Last spring, a friend of mine, whom I first met over 25 years ago, traded in her Seattle life to move east to her dream town of Wenatchee, WA. Over there, summer is a sure thing and the vistas are a painterly wonder of orchards. Having left Seattle five years prior to settle into my own smaller (though wetter and woodier) town, she asked me recently: Do you ever miss living in the city?
No, I answered. Not on a day-to-day basis. But I do take at least one staycation a year to ensure I don’t become entirely feral.
My friend and I were both both born in the city1 well before meeting, but while her family stayed, my parents moved to a suburb just east of Lake Washington a few months after I entered the world. I loved growing up in Kirkland, especially the Kirkland that existed back then, but I always wanted to move to Seattle proper when I was old enough to live on my own. Which I did.
If you’re the stack-ranking type, you could say that Seattle is (even when fully functioning) a second-tier city. My friend’s wife would always refer to it as “a fishing village.” It’s true. We never figured out how to finish building the monorail. Our burgeoning light rail system is a little pathetic—one line with less than 20 stops. We had an opportunity to transform our failing elevated Highway 99 into an urban park similar to what Manhattan created with The High Line. And we chose not to.
But let’s be clear: Seattle isn’t trying to be as exciting as New York or as artful as San Francisco; our fair, mid-sized city on the Sound will never fill Chicago’s shoes or light up a room like Los Angeles. But that is beside the point, because those of us who love Seattle—whether we live within its designated lines or not—don’t desire any of that sparkle and pizzazz. We are content to forgo an abundance of late-night dining choices and conversations with people who actually look you in the eye because what matters to to us more than all that is the opportunity to glimpse a majestic mountain range or a ferry crossing Puget Sound while we’re walking from block to block.
Seattle is a city for the kind of person who prefers living in close proximity to not one or two - but five active volcanoes2. Whether or not you hike, ski, snowboard or rock-climb doesn’t really matter. If you’re here, your heart is stirred by the awesomeness of rugged peaks, fries from Dick’s Drive-In, rare orca sightings and gloriously long summer days. These things fulfill you to such a degree that you will subject yourself to the grimness that is January and February in the PNW. Oh, and there is good food. And amazing coffee, just not from Starbucks.
A few weekends ago, finding myself a bachelorette for the weekend, I unearthed some heels from my closet, packed a pair of pants that have never been worn on the trail, and headed to the Jet City with The Dog and a ticket to the symphony. For me, going to the symphony is an experience similar to watching footage of polar bears in the Arctic: I am mesmerized and in awe of the miracle of how this all came to be while simultaneously thinking—how sad for us all if we can’t keep this alive.
I believe strongly that music education should be mandatory—not just because we need the artform to survive—but because learning music changes your brain in a multitude of ways that benefit you for the rest of your life. Learning music at a young age also makes a person much more likely to continue to appreciate it as an adult. The last few years I have gone to the symphony, I was one of the younger people there by a couple of decades, and I am well past 30 myself. Even the majority of orchestra members seemed to be nearing a pensionable age. What happens to our cities, countries and civilizations when we can’t staff an orchestra because not enough people know how to play the violin?
More Women Conductors & Composers, Please
What a revelation to go to the Seattle Symphony performance on November 16th! Led by the Finnish conductor, Dalia Stasevksa, the orchestra’s headline was a bold but thoughtful performance of the powerful Symphony No. 5 by Jean Sibelius. I never get through that piece without melting into a mess of tears, and this time was no exception. Thank you to the lovely gentleman sitting next to me, who politely allowed me to weep, and seemed not at all bothered by it.
In addition, the Finnish musician Lauri Porra performed his concerto, Entropia, a composition for electric bass and orchestra. Although it wasn’t my favorite piece that night, some of the passages were thrilling, and I support anyone who is trying to bridge the gap between classical and rock music. Great music transcends genre.
The real treat, though, was the first piece, Nautilus, by Anna Meredith, a British composer born in 1978. Nautilus was first written in 2011 but adapted for orchestra in 2021. With a total running time of less than five minutes, this piece had my heart racing and my eyes widened from the moment it started. Contemporary classical music has finally moved on from the dissonant acts of formulaic rebellion that had us all asking for polka music instead just a few decades ago. This was a powerful, resonant and yes: beautiful piece that took my breath away. I actually said “Wow!” out loud when it was over.
Yes to more women conductors. Yes to more women composers. Yes to the symphony repertoire evolving. (Oh, and did I mention how many young people were in the audience? It was probably for the electric bass concerto, but that does not matter. They were there.)
Beethoven Can’t Hear This (Thank God)
The next day, walking the dog who sniffed and marked his way through town, I wandered into—let’s call it a “sleeping” part of town. Not abandoned, but not active either. No shops open; all windows boarded up, mostly unpainted, some with glossy advertisements. A few people hanging around. No one approached me for money (or worse), but clearly, no one hanging around there had anywhere to go or anything to do. And from a distant, invisible speaker, Beethoven blared. All day.
I’ve heard that classical music is a deterrent for errant and violent behavior, and is often used to prevent young people from loitering outside buildings. Poor Beethoven. Imagine if he had been told that his genius, his incredible gift to humanity would be used like bug spray to keep away mosquitoes.
Good-bye, Jeff and Thanks for the Balls
And finally, the good news outlets have informed me that Mr. Jeff Bezos and his new companion are leaving Seattle for business reasons, and to be closer to his aging parents. I’m sure those reasons are true, but I would venture to guess that the primary reason is that Ms. Sanchez would rather live in Miami than Seattle. I am only guessing, of course.
His well-appointed spheres, however, are staying. They are impressive for sure. And while I’m all for plant education, those balls represent a lot of what people dislike about the Amazon effect: the benefit of its existence is mostly for Amazon employees alone and its presence, by itself, does very little to invest in obtaining a more natural balance between the infrastructure of the city and its surrounding environment. I can only hope that our future Bot Overlords develop a better plan for how to bring some of the natural ecology back into our urban spaces. All our great cities of the world deserve nothing less.
Fun fact: I was born in what was then called “Doctor’s Hospital” located at 909 University St. The hospital closed in 1980 when it merged with Swedish Medical Center. When cleaning out my mother’s house I found an ashtray with the Doctor’s Hospital logo on it. I keep it in my nightstand drawer as a reminder of how quickly customs evolve; and also in case I am in bed when the big earthquake hits and I decide to take up smoking while Whidbey Island shakes itself into an earthy goo.
I had to look this up because I wasn’t sure how many there are. The five active volcanoes are: Glacier Peak, Mount Adams, Mount Baker, Mount Rainier and Mount St. Helens.