Port Angeles, Washington: & the Pontification Gene
One of my cousins, slightly younger, a lot more Gemini, quite talented, too, had the best quote I heard, when he was addressing a particular family issue that had to do with regional boundaries, “We’re hopelessly white.”
Which, oddly enough, in deference to his occupation as a singer/songwriter [and quite good at that> leaves a little something to be desired. I just point out, that in the grand scheme, that one cousin got \\all the rhythm, all the talent\\ that would normally be associated with a whole generation.
Lucky guy. He makes his home in the Santa Fe area these days. Either the Northern NM environs welcome you in with open arms, or they slam their doors shut in your face. Me? Except for last week, I just figured Northern NM didn’t want too much to do with me. Doesn’t mean I can’t visit, but I don’t think I can hang my hat there.
Port Angeles, though, is a different story. That’s about 4 cousins I’ve got in the area, or from the area, and I like the place just fine. Don’t know that I could really hang my hat there, but for a place that’s got good proximity to Seattle, as a major national/international hub, and the Olympic National Park in the backyard – literally – it’s an easy choice. Great for the summers. Too cold for my tastes when the cold season gets here, but great for a summer vacation – not that anyone’s going to ask me too soon.
Which then got us all around to the pontification gene, its roots, its uses, and how it shows up in each generation. Me? We’re all \\sure\\ I don’t have it. Some of my cousins obviously have it. Better yet, when cornered, one uncle explained, “Yes, you see, it’s probably genetic, although, it can be learned behavior and trait as well, there’s an inherent knowledge we [family> have, and it’s our duty to help those who choose to listen to us, after all, this is for their benefit. We’re not preaching….”
Odd points to consider, both uncles have lead Sunday school classes. Sort of undoes the “preaching” quote. I guess the dry delivery and the feminist cousin, that sort of took away from the seriousness of the moment.
Or maybe not. She’d seen my five-pointed star before, and she was wearing some Celtic Knot looking jewelry. I made a comment about her pagan tokens, she looked back at me, “Oh you mean my swastika?”
I always knew she was Feminist Nazi.
It’s all family, what’re you going to do? In the real world, that one cousin has served more to enlighten my chauvinist ways, probably, that anyone else. Although, I’ll bet most the girls in Texas probably shoot better.