Yakima, Washington sits just outside the Yakama (Native American) Reservation. I grew up in Yakima.
I began smoking cigarettes in Yakima. One of the great buys could be had just a couple of miles from my home on Ahtanum Road, conveniently on my way to work at Miner’s Drive In.
The Smoke Shack was a little bigger than today’s coffee huts, and every bit as convenient. Drive up. Order your smokes. Pick up a lighter. Drive away.
The price? Well, back then I think I paid about 35¢ to 50¢ a pack. A $5.00 carton. Eeegads! Can you imagine???
As a child I marveled on day excursions to the Yakima Valley. Wapato. Toppenish. Sunnyside. There were Pow-Wows where the tribe would dress, sing, share. Jewelry and beadwork drew my eye, but the presence of soft leather and woven baskets were my favorite. Conjuring the drums, soft dance, beautiful skin and facial features so different from my own brings me to childhood. I can still taste the fried bread slathered with butter and fruit jam.
I no longer buy cigarettes or eat fried bread slathered with butter and jam. The Yakamas? Well, they are firmly rooted in my heart.
Daily Prompt: Reservation
Photo Ahtanum Ridge from 5414 by Pat Strosahl
“An intriguing or singular tone, effect, or appeal ,” offers Merriam-Webster.
You enter. The atmosphere is palpable.
Skin, eyes, ears, and nose calculate and dictate adaptation.
Tiniest of hairs quicken. Snap decisions are made.
Animal citizens, we swell and shrink in response to atmospheric pressure.
photo: Seat by Lucas Vartoni
daily prompt: Atmospheric
The probe is a delicate dance. You cannot probe forcefully – it becomes an assault. To coax a response that transcends defenses, you must tread carefully. Gingerly. Respectfully. Lead without alarm.
The art of proceeding gingerly is overshadowed by splashier and nosier displays, temporarily shoving subtlety into the back seat.
A subtle questioning, however, will build a narrative. The line of breadcrumbs is almost visible. There is satisfaction in a clever dialogue of questions and answers. We crave that insight.
We love well-written dialogue on screen and in written word. The secrets revealed through subtle probing are the payoff. The gentle dance that underscores the greater commotion is key to pulling the story together.
A fine thread.
via Daily Prompt: Gingerly
photo “Conversation” by tzejen
Miss Almira Gulch terrified this child when she came screaming down the Kansas landscape on her bicycle, little Toto trapped in her basket. The Wizard of Oz delivered us a wonderful villain.Actress Margaret Hamilton barged onto the flat, sepia farm with such ferocity that she seemed to suck the very air out of the place.
While Auntie Em would take the brunt of Gulch’s vitriol, it was Uncle Henry who punctuated her visit when he shut the gate, hitting Gulch on the backside as she went through.
If there was an Oscar for best performance by a gate…surely Henry and Em’s gate would have taken the prize that year!
A search re Hamilton this morning revealed she had been a kindergarten teacher. Imagine what lively books she brought to life for her little students!
Wikipedia quotes Hamilton speaking about her personal appearances before children:
“Almost always they want me to laugh like the Witch. And sometimes when I go to schools, if we’re in an auditorium, I’ll do it. And there’s always a funny reaction, like ‘Ye gods, they wish they hadn’t asked.’ They’re scared. They’re really scared for a second. Even adolescents. I guess for a minute they get the feeling they got when they watched the picture. They like to hear it but they ‘don’t’ like to hear it. And then they go, ‘Ohhhhhhhhhh…!’ The picture made a terrible impression of some kind on them, sometimes a ghastly impression, but most of them got over it, I guess…because when I talk like the Witch, and when I laugh, there is a hesitation and then they clap. They’re clapping at hearing the sound again.”
Photo posted by Insomnia Cured Here on Flikr.
Via Daily Prompt: gate
Tetherball was a lifesaver in my childhood. It filled lonely spots on the playground with a zen-like calmness when played alone.
Sometimes boys made it a ‘cage-fight-to-the death’ during recesses at Hoover Elementary.
I was one of the tougher girl players, but not the best. The physics of tetherball were right up my alley. I didn’t need to be a fast runner, but strength and timing were still key.
Funny how a thin pole, a string and a dangling object can keep a cat endlessly entertained.
How much more so an independent little girl!
Via Daily Prompt: Tether
Photo 9/365 by Alexis Nyal