POKE AND THE BEACH

          Today, Thursday, I did something I haven’t done in a long while, actually more likely years. First, my walking partner, Kathy, and I ordered food from Ono Poke. This restaurant is owned by a former Hawaiian who opened the restaurant because he couldn’t find good poke here…it’s absolutely delicious. After we picked it up, we went to the Edmonds beach, sat at a picknick table and ate our lunches. It wasn’t sunny, but it wasn’t cold and the breeze wasn’t too bad.

          Once we’d eaten our lunches, we decided that rather than walking the path, we’d go down to the beach and walk that instead. This is the part I hadn’t done in a very long time.  We may not have walked the thousands of steps we usually do, but we spent way more time walking. And of course, we did not have the proper footwear for an extremely low tide. Still, we persevered and walked a long way south down the beach. It was probably one of those tides where we could have walked from Edmonds to Richmond Beach. We didn’t do that.

          Kathy had spent a lot of time on the beach as her children went through elementary school. She’d learned a lot. My only time on a beach with elementary aged children was when my son was in fifth grade or thereabouts. My son’s teacher’s parents had a place on Hood Canal. Every spring, she took her class to the canal.  I was one of the chaperones and drivers. For some reason, when I did that sort of thing, perhaps because I had male children, I was given the more troublesome kids.

          There are only two things I remember from that trip aside from my group being a bit more challenging. One is finding a perfect moon snail shell which I still have. The other is illustrating to my kids how not to hold a crab. Somehow, I managed to pick up the crab in such a way that it grabbed one of my fingers with one of its claws. As I was trying to educate my group, the crab‘s other claw managed to grab another finger.  All I wanted to do at this point was to shake my hand and utter obscenities at the top of my lungs…it was so painful. Somehow, I managed to not do that and was able to rescue my fingers from the crab claws. “And, children, that is how you DO NOT WANT to pick up a crab.” My fingers were extremely sore and ended up quite bruised for almost a week.

          Yesterday, Kathy was much more knowledgeable about what we were seeing than I. If I had her knowledge at some point, I’ve since lost it. I did find another moon snail yesterday and it was alive. Kathy carefully took it and placed it into a more wet environment. When we were on our return walk, we found it again. It had a pile of sand around what would have been its foot or face(?), so it had burrowed into the sand. Since we’d seen a seagull feasting on another moon snail, I carefully covered this one up with seaweed. Hopefully, since the tide was now coming in, it survived.

          Kathy also pointed out a number of sea anemones. I wouldn’t have spotted them otherwise. I loved touching them and watching as they pulled themselves closed.  Kathy even touched one that sent up a spout of liquid…I told her it was trying to pee on her.  We also picked up a number of interesting rocks, some of which went into our pockets and some of which we left on the beach.  I even brought home a piece of what I think is redwood. It’s very colorful and has some holes in it. I’m wondering if there’s anything living in those holes. For now, it’s on my deck. Once it dries out completely, I’d like to include it in the mobile for which I’ve been saving driftwood for years.

          A few days ago, the Shoreline Journal had an article about a very low tide. I was sorry I hadn’t known about it. When I got home yesterday, I looked up the tide charts for the next month.  It appears there will be low tides the next few days with a few more the middle of June. I sent the information to Kathy in an email.  Hopefully, we will return to the beach on one of those days, clad in the appropriate footwear and wearing a backpack so we can carry home far more treasures than we did today.

          Maybe we can even order more poke…it was delicious!!!

MY OPINION/EXPERIENCES

       Earlier this week I tried writing a post about the deaths of the three black people, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor and the protests that are occurring across the country. I came to the conclusion that I don’t really know very much about any of that. Overnight, I decided the only thing I could post about was my own experiences.

          My mother was born in Tennessee and the only story I ever heard that involved black people was about a beating she received because she had gone off to a black church because she liked the music. When I was growing up, my mother worked downtown at Kress’ dime store. Some of her coworkers were black. She always treated them with respect and expected the same from me when I was introduced.

          The only example of racism I can remember in my family came from my father. A bunch of my friends had come home from school with me. We were all playing outside, probably tag or some game that involved touching each other. One of my friends was Pilipino and later, my father told me I was never ever to let that black kid touch me. I was shocked and amazed by his order because I didn’t see the skin color, I just saw a friend.

          In high school there were only Caucasian kids until my senior year. Then, two black girls and one black boy came to the school. They weren’t in any of my classes and appeared to pretty much stick together. I didn’t give it much thought at the time and now wish I had made more of an effort to be welcoming.

          It wasn’t until I was 26 years old that I had my first black friend. He was employed by the adjoining department at the University of Washington, but some of his professor’s research happened in the lab on my floor. My friend had to walk by my office entering and leaving the lab. We got to talking and it became a habit for him to stop, sit down and we’d talk. From there, we began having coffee in the cafeteria whenever it was convenient for us both. I also gave him a ride home now and then.

          I had never really given it much thought, but in our conversations it became very apparent to me that he and his family were just like me and my family. They had the same dreams, desires, and kind of lives that my family and all the other white families I knew did. It was a revelation to me.

          At one point, my friend stopped coming around. I had told him to let me know if I ever said or did anything that was offensive because I’d never had a black friend. I asked one of his friends what was going on. He didn’t know, or said he didn’t know. I asked him to tell our friend I missed him and wished he’d resume our friendship. So, my friend came back and it wasn’t anything I said or did that made him stop having coffee or visiting with me. His professor and some of his white co-workers had made very offensive (to him) remarks about me and our friendship.

This was a time where white-black friendships were rare and white males took exception to interracial couples. Now, my friend and I were not a couple, but apparently it appeared that way just because we spent time together. I told my friend his boss and coworkers could think and say whatever they liked about me. For that matter, people who came into the cafeteria and saw us together could also think what they liked. I told him, “You are my friend. I value our friendship and want it to continue. If it makes you uncomfortable, I certainly understand.”

My friend and I went back to the way things were, but my opinion of his professor and coworkers took a huge hit. I’d never seen them as bigoted racists before, but I certainly did from that point on. When I left my position at the UW, I lost track of my friend, but found him again decades later on Facebook. We don’t chat much, but I’m always pleased when I see his name on my computer screen.

Later on, I went to work for the Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation. I met many more black people there and always treated them with respect and consideration. There were some I genuinely liked and got to know fairly well. In one case, a woman with whom I worked was diagnosed with cancer. I deeply mourned her passing.

There was one young woman in the department who did make me very angry. I can’t remember if it was during the Watts riots or what had happened. She would go on for an entire coffee break about how awful everything was. If I’d made all the same comments she did, replacing the word “white” with the word “black,” she most likely would have reported me to human resources or physically attacked me. I knew she was very angry and kept my mouth shut. This was the first time I became personally aware of black anger and the need for some kind of change.

A couple of decades ago, a mixed-race couple moved into the house next door. Over the years I’ve gotten to know them. The husband may be black and the wife white, but they are just like any other married couple I know. I’ve welcomed their two children and watched the father interact with them through my front window. He is, without any doubt on my part, the best father I’ve ever witnessed.

We’ve never discussed race or whether or not they’ve had to talk to their children about how to act if they are stopped by the police. I’ve never asked if they’ve had any difficulties in our community. I believe I’ve never brought any of this up in our discussions because I don’t see the color…I see a set of wonderful parents who are also great neighbors.

Finally, I have family in Tennessee. I’ve only made three, maybe four, visits there, but not once have I encountered any racist comments or seen any family members act in such a way as to be offensive to anyone because of skin color. I very much like and appreciate that.

Instances of black people, or people of any color, being treated and killed as the three in my opening paragraph were saddens me. The fact the peaceful protests are highjacked by human beings and turned into events that are the exact opposite of the overall goal also saddens me. I feel as though there’s nothing I can actually do to make any improvements aside from what I’ve always done. Treat every single person that enters or is part of my life with respect and consideration for each individual rather than that person’s color.

          I’m not exactly happy with this post. It‘s such an important topic and while I feel a need to write something, I don’t feel it’s particularly helpful. I just wish each and every single person in the entire world would take a step back and remember the “Golden Rule.” I’m sure if everyone treated everyone else exactly how they’d like to be treated, there wouldn’t be any George Floyds, Ahmaud Arberys and Breonna Taylors. It doesn’t seem like too terribly much to desire.

MOSTLY PHOTOS

           Yesterday, I began writing another zoo post, but was unable to finish because of other commitments…amazing, yes. One of those commitments was my dentist. Finally after gluing the temporary crown back on seven (7) times, I got to go in and have the permanent crown cemented into place. They even had to numb my mouth slightly because that tooth hadn’t had a root canal and had become more sensitive with each regluing process. I’m so grateful to have it done. Now, maybe I can actually begin chewing on the right side again…it’s only been nine (9) weeks I’ve been chewing on the left side. I wonder if the muscles on the left are a lot larger now. I’m going to have to stare into the mirror and evaluate. 
         So, rather than write more today about my adventures at the zoo, I thought I'd just add a few of my favorite photos. I did try to insert them in chronological order, but Blogger has its own idea ow how they should be presented and I don't have time to fight with it. Hope you enjoy.

When the real dinosaurs came to visit.

Right after I took his photo, he jumped at the bars and roared loudly. 

Scared me so bad I fell on my butt.

Brandi Carlile...one of her concerts...absolutely great

         

Baby Tiger 2003

Feeding the lemurs 2008

Chai & Hansa...3 months old maybe...possibly my favorite photo.

ZOO YEARS 1962; 1991-97

         When I went looking for the photo of me and Haley at elephants, I discovered the three-ring binder I’d put together after I retired. It contains a variety of things, all of which are refreshing my memory of my years at Woodland Park Zoo. I should have multiple happy posts in the days to come.

          To begin, I’m not sure just how many of you are aware of my link to the zoo. I grew up in the Fremont neighborhood and the zoo was not encircled by a fence at that time. The only things that cost money were food from the concession stand and the rides in the lower east corner of the zoo. Back then, if you had a quarter, you were rich enough for a couple of rides, or just a snack. Boy, how things have changed since then.

          In addition, back then there were no helicopter parents, nor were we driven every single place we wanted to go. We had two good feet and perhaps a bicycle. In my neighborhood, the kids often walked up Fremont Avenue to the zoo, through the zoo to West Green Lake beach. If we were feeling really ambitious, sometimes we’d hike to the East Green Lake beach. Even more fun was wading out to Duck Island. Why didn’t all that muck and slime bother me back then? Now, I’d require a wet suit over my entire body to venture toward Duck Island.

          I have many happy memories of those jaunts to the lake, swimming the day away and the jaunt back home…at least going home it was all downhill. It was such a relaxed time and summer seemed to last forever.

          In 1961, I turned 16. I was excited to get a job that wasn’t babysitting. My very first job was at the zoo selling hotdogs in the concession stand. I don’t know of there was a public health department then that looked after places like that. I don’t believe so. Whatever chili or hotdogs were left at the end of the day were placed in the fridge and pulled out the following morning to reheat. When the stock became low, you simply added more chili or hotdogs to the pans. You didn’t wash them up first. It was at this point I decided I would never ever buy a hotdog or chilidog that I had not either personally prepared or watched being prepared.

Bear Exhibit 1960

          I only worked the summer of 1962 because I graduated high school the spring of 1963 with my Secretarial Certificate, so that meant I could go out in the world and get a real 8-5 job for, as it turned out, two different insurance companies, one after the other. I didn’t give the zoo another thought and didn’t keep up with the various developments and changes, i.e., fence, admission charge, etc.

          In 1984, I took a permanent part-time job with the City of Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation. It was only at that point I realized the zoo belonged to the city. My job was to provided administrative assistance to the Parks Department Planning, Projects and Development department. My first big typing job was for what was to become the Asian Elephant Exhibit at the zoo, funded by the 1985 county-wide Zoo Bond. When I turned the finished copy into the planner, I said, “This sounds wonderful, let’s get it built.”

          From that position, I moved to the Word Processing Department. I loved working there and it was then I met the Director of the zoo, Dave Towne. He came in one day in a bit of a tizzy. He had a meeting with some honchos downtown and the legislation he had was incorrect. Did any of us in word processing know how to fix it. Well, I had prepared lots of legislation for that first departments Capital Improvement Program guy. I indicated I could take care of it.

          Now, you have to understand this gentleman, and he was/is one, was also a bit of a naughty guy. It was also a bit before everyone got so up tight about sexual innuendo and all that stuff. Mr. Towne asked what I’d charge and I told him I wanted peacock feathers. I had no idea what his job entailed and just assumed he could go out and about before the zoo opened and pick up stray peacock feathers. I fixed his legislation so it was correct, and every time I saw him after that, we’d joke about the peacock feathers and why I wanted them. He finally brought me one shortly before I actually ended up working at the zoo for his second in command.

Typical Cages, 1960

          You have no idea how unhappy I was when my boss told me in September that come the end of 1991, I wouldn’t have a job. As head of her department, she had moved the money that funded my position to another location. It was so another person could have the assistant he’d needed for a long time. It was approved by the Parks Finance Department, but when it got to the City’s Office of Management and Budget (OMB), they said, nope, haven’t funded that position before and we’re not funding it now. My boss tried to get the money back into the position I held, but OMB told her she must not need it since she’d given it up. That position was gone as would I be come the end of the year.

          The one nice thing working for a bureaucracy is some of the rules they have in place. Since I’d been written out of the budget, the City had to find me another comparable job. There was only one…at Woodland Park Zoo. It was also permanent part-time in support of the Citizen’s Advisory Committee for the 1985 Bond Issue. Fortunately for me, the man (Mike Waller) who interviewed and hired me did like me. It didn’t matter that working at the zoo shortened my commute by 15-20 minutes, that I had free parking and wouldn’t have to rush about moving my car before the meter person returned to give me a ticket, I DID NOT want to go there.

          Zoo staff were welcoming, the citizens on the Advisory Committee extremely nice and the work was rewarding and interesting. I soon became comfortable with working at the zoo and eventually extremely grateful I was given the opportunity and took it. Four days a week, I worked in one of the trailers at what was affectionately called Camp David. The fifth day, I spent at the exact opposite end of the zoo working for the Supervisor of Maintenance and Horticulture.

I still laugh about what staff in that location must have thought the first time I turned up down there. I was clad in winter white…slacks and sweater and wearing cute little flats. At that point in time, those departments hadn’t been renovated and everything was muddy and filthy. The people in this department were out on grounds eight hours a day making the zoo look great. Mud, dirt, Zoodoo, they tracked it all in and about. And, it didn’t matter if it was sunny and warm or raining and miserable, they were out there every single day. I didn’t make the mistake of looking so out-of-place again and managed to bring a certain amount of order to the place before I went to work for Mr. Towne full-time in 1997.

When the 1985 Zoo Bond Issue, the first county-wide bond issue ever approved by the voters, included was a Master Plan that included a number of bioclimatic zones. There was Tropical Asia, Tropical Rain Forest, African Savanna, Northern Trail, Temperate Forest with exciting changes included in the different zones, i.e., the Rain Forest Café, Family Farm. It was up to the Citizen’s Advisory Committee to look at and approve any changes to the Master Plan. In some cases, a particular exhibit would require more money and changes would be proposed, discussed and sent back for more work or approved. Some of these necessitated removing or changing parts of the Master Plan. The Desert and Steppe Exhibits never came to fruition.

The Zoo Bond Issue was pretty much completed by 1997. The voter-approved bond issue provided $32 million. The Zoo Society had to raise $10 million. In the end, donations, interest earned and funds raised beyond that totaled more than $20 million for a final budget of close to $55 million, if my memory serves. I was the primary planner for the county-wide celebration at its completion. I thought I had kept a copy of the brochure that was prepared citing all the accomplishments and changes, but apparently, I did not. So, again, if memory serves, we held the event in September 1998, immediately after the national zoo convention in Tulsa Oklahoma.

I’m really pleased I had the opportunity to work on the huge changes made possible by the Zoo Bond issue at a more than 100-year-old institution. I’m especially proud of the fact that at the time, it was the first bond issue to be completed on time and under budget. In fact, it took a couple of additional years to completely exhaust the funds in Zoo Bond Issue budget.

Hopefully, you are enjoying my trip down memory lane. And, hopefully, I’m not getting too many facts wrong. Stay tuned, there’s more to come.

PAUL NEWMAN

          I ended yesterday’s post with, “Paul Newman.” Yes, working at Woodland Park Zoo, I had the privilege of meeting this man, great actor and environmentalist. Here’s the story.

          Stewart Stern was a Keeper Aid in the gorilla exhibit. He was a screenwriter who had retired or maybe actually lived in Seattle, Mr. Stern won an Emmy for “Sybil” and an Oscar for “Rebel Without a Cause.” He was quite famous in his own right. I remember watching “Sybil” on television in 1976 and being fascinated by the story and Sally Field who played the part of Sybil. It was the true account of a young woman who developed alternate personalities because of her mother’s abuse. Paul Newman’s wife, Joanne Woodward played the part of Sybil’s psychiatrist.

          Mr. Stern had talked to me several times about having a special friend visit and hoped that my boss would be amendable to providing a tour. As it happened, Mr. Stern made arrangements through me and with the gorilla staff to bring Mr. Newman, his daughter, son-in-law and two grandsons for a “secret” visit to the zoo. I was so excited when I made the arrangements with my boss and jokingly said I simply had to go with her. I then laughed and said,  “I know, that wouldn’t really be appropriate.”

          The day came and it was time for my boss to head for the gorilla exhibit. I reminded her and she came out of her office.

          “Grab your pad and a pen. You can walk down with me. This is the only time I’ll have today for us to talk.”

          Well, I didn’t let any qualms hold me back. I grabbed my stuff and my keys and followed her out the door. As we walked to gorillas, she gave me a number of instructions about items that I’d need to take care of that afternoon. Suddenly, we were there as were Messrs. Stern and Newman and the family. I sort of hung back. Mr. Stern introduced my boss, and bless her heart, she introduced me. 

          Somehow, I managed to not wet my panties, fall at Mr. Newman’s feet, throw my arms around him or ask for an autograph or anything else that would have embarrassed me, my boss, Mr. Stern or Mr. Newman and his family. When Mr. Newman took my hand to shake, he said,

          “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

          I responded, “No, sir, it’s my pleasure.” And, it most certainly was.

          At that point I was going to return to the office, but my boss told me I could stay if I liked. So, I stayed and watched the Newman family interact with the zoo’s gorillas. I also watched Mr. Newman sign the wall at gorillas, so the zoo did get an autograph.

          When we left gorillas, I started to turn back toward the office. Before I took more than two steps, Mr. Newman turned back from the group, shook my hand a second time and said goodbye.

          At that time, Mr. Newman was 80 years old. He wasn’t much taller than me and had that frail appearance that some older people attain with age. He may have looked frail, but I just know what was left was pure steel. And, yes, Mr. Newman’s eyes were really that blue and his two grandsons inherited them.

          By the time I got back to my office, Mr. Newman’s group had made it over to the orangutan exhibit. From there my boss called and asked if I could drive one of the zoo carts over. Mr. Newman’s back was acting up. Well, I’d never learned to drive one of the electric carts…dang it anyway…and this wasn’t the time for me to learn. I walked over to the Events trailer and asked who there could drive an electric cart. Of course, they all responded in the affirmative, but not enthusiastically. Then I said,

          “Paul Newman and his family are at the orangutan exhibit and they need a cart.”

          Well, everyone jumped on that, but the young woman who responded first got the job. It was a great experience for her and a much-needed lift for a day that had begun with some bad family news. We kinda compared notes after and Mr. Newman and his party were just as nice and friendly as she drove them around the zoo as they seemed to be when I met them.

          I’m sure, in fact I know, we’ve had other very important and famous people visit the zoo, but this was my one experience with one of them. I’m sure I’ll remember it for as long as I live.

ELEPHANTS

         Yesterday’s post was about John and the wild bear and AJ feeding Denali and Keema back in 1998. It made me think of all the special times I was extremely fortunate to have at Woodland Park Zoo. Because of my position, I very rarely asked for favors from the keepers. I knew how hard they worked and how little time they had to make room for donors and important people who wanted an experience in exchange for their dollars. The bear experience with AJ was my first and I’d been at the zoo for about seven years. I wouldn’t have asked for that except I’d done something for Carl (cannot remember what now) and he told me to call if I ever wanted to feed the boys.

          The next auspicious event was the birth of Hansa, the elephant. The entire zoo staff had been waiting and waiting for this big event. All zoo staff were told to stay away from the elephant barn when the baby was born. Chai would be a new mother and the elephant keepers wanted to make sure mom and baby bonded without any kind of activity that might upset either of them.

          When I went home the night of November 2, 2000, I knew the baby was on its way. My boss called and left me a voice mail at about 4:00 am, saying, “We have a baby girl.” I was so excited and couldn’t wait to get to work even though I wouldn’t be able to go see her right away.

          As it turned out, the Exhibits Crew had to quickly build a platform so the baby could nurse from Chai. They did so and Chai and her little one was so calm, word went throughout the zoo that we could go to the elephant barn…quietly and calmly. I immediately went down, the first of three times that day and each time I cried…tears of wonder and happiness.

          Hansa (she didn’t have a name then) was so unbelievably cute. One of her Aunties was able to stick her trunk through the narrow opening in the door. Hansa was absolutely determined to investigate this. It was pretty funny watching a couple of keepers whose combined weight probably didn’t match that of Hansa trying to turn her back toward her mother.

          A few months later, another zoo staffer and I snuck down to the elephant barn for an unapproved visit to Hansa, her mom and aunties. The keepers were glad to have us, but those in charge wouldn’t have liked us visiting. Hansa was growing, but she didn’t yet have any teeth. She stuck out her little trunk, grabbed my hand, stuffed it into her mouth and began sucking. It was and felt amazing. I went back down a few months later and was just about to give Hansa my hand again when the keeper yelled, “Stop, don’t do that…she has teeth now.”

          John did get to experience the elephants. In 2001, we went on a zoo safari to Kenya and the couple leading the trip were both zoo employees. One of them worked in the elephant barn and invited us come visit after we got home. It was either before or after Halloween because we carried pumpkins filled with fruit from the parking lot to the elephant barn. We got to watch Chai, Hansa and the aunties enjoy our largess and John got to hand feed the elephants as well.

My granddaughter was born almost a year later. When she was big enough, she and her mom would come to the zoo. If I could, I’d wander around with them. One day in 2005 we went to the elephant barn and Chai was being trained to do something. The keepers said hi, but went on with their training. I didn’t think anything of it, but the head keeper caught me almost a week later and apologized for not being able to make time for my granddaughter. He said to let him know when I’d like to bring her back.

          So, I planned a visit with my son and his family. At that point in time Haley couldn’t say elephant properly. It was cute the way she said it, but in the time I spent with her the weekend before the visit, I taught her to say it properly…and was a little sorry because I missed her old way.

          The big day came and AJ, Angie and Haley arrived at the zoo. Haley was excited, but the closer we got to the barn, the slower she walked. When we got to the barn door and knocked, she said, “We go home now, daddy.” We ignored her request and went on into the barn. Haley didn’t want any part of those huge animals. The keepers talked about the difference in the elephants and baby Hansa. AJ and Angie both fed the elephants carrots and Angie took a lot of pictures. Haley wouldn’t go near them, not even for her daddy and she’d do almost anything for him. As you can see by the photo, even Nana tried to get her to give Chai a carrot. Nope, and if you look at her toes, you can see she’s a real primate…she’s holding on to me with those too. I was disappointed she didn’t have a better visit.

          That evening, AJ’s family and Angie’s family got together to celebrate Angie’s birthday. Angie had the photos she’d taken that morning developed. Haley went from person to person with the photos, explaining who was who and what was what. She may not have appeared to be paying any attention, but I don’t think any of us had to correct anything she had to say about the photos and the visit.

          Two years later, June 8, 2007, Hansa was dead from a previously undiscovered herpes virus. Her keeper found her when he came in. He called the Assistant Director and told him and he, in turn told me. I was the third person to know Hansa had died. My immediate response was, “You’re kidding.” Then, I had to call my boss, the President and CEO, and her response was, “You’re kidding.” We just didn’t want to believe little Hansa was gone.

          I cannot begin to tell you how sad the entire zoo was that day. Memories were shared, tears were shed, everyone felt terrible. The sadness of that day wasn’t to end for me when I went home, however. Haley’s dog, Sadie, had reached the end of her days. She was an American Bloodhound and she had been a member of my son’s family for years and Haley’s life since her birth.

          John and I went out to tell Sadie goodbye. I offered Sadie a cookie and she took it to be polite, but she just didn’t want it and let it fall out of her mouth. She looked at me so apologetically. My tears returned only where during the day, they had been for Hansa, now they were for Sadie who would make her final trip to the vet the next morning.  

          The day Hansa was born was my very best day ever at Woodland Park Zoo. It even surpassed those from when I was a child and the zoo was practically my playground. The worst day at the zoo for me was the day Hansa died. Still, I have many stories from my time at the zoo and I hope to share them with you in future posts…baby snow leopards, jaguars, Jungle Parties, Paul Newman.

JOHN THE BEAR WHISPERER

         This is post #151, and I sincerely hope I’m not repeating myself. Today, Friday, I finally got that Kidd Valley bacon-cheeseburger and deep-fried mushrooms I was Jonesing for a couple of weeks ago. I picked up the orders on my way to Claudia’s deck. Maryanne was with me and we both wore our masks like good girls. As we were leaving, having eaten our lunches and had a nice visit, I don’t remember what Claudia’s husband said, but it reminded me of the year John fed the bear.

          It was June 1970, and we had borrowed his mother’s boyfriend’s truck and camper for our vacation. I was pregnant with AJ. We drove all over the place in that thing even though it got like 3-5 miles per gallon…gas was really cheap back then. At one point, John decided we would go over White Pass. It had just opened for the summer. At the top, there were people standing by the side of the road looking down into the little valley below. I believe the white stuff in the photos is snow.

          John stopped and we got out to see what was interesting enough to make other people stop. There was a black bear down in the little ravine. It had to have just come out of hibernation. People were throwing cookies and other food over the edge and the bear was slowly eating its way up toward the side of the road. Everyone seemed to be throwing things that brought the bear just a bit closer to the top. It was interesting.

          Fang the Wonder Dog, didn't think much of the bear as you can see in the photo. The next thing I knew, John was in the camper covering two thick pieces of bread with a half jar of my homemade raspberry jam. I asked him what he was doing. 

          He said, “That poor bear is hungry. I’m going to give it some food.”           

I told him he was crazy. Fang had already decided this was nuts and retreated beneath the truck. So, Fang and I climbed back into the truck and watched from afar as John went across the highway. 

          By the time John got back to the side of the road, the bear had traversed the entire hill and was on the side of the road. John had a slice of bread covered with jam in each hand. He held his hands out, or at least that’s what it looked like from where Fang and I were located. I'm sure I had a photo of John's back and the bear, but it must be in AJ's baby book. At one point, this bear reared up and kind of waved its paws. It was taller than John.  I patted my burgeoning tummy and said, “Sorry honey, I think that’s it for your daddy.”

          I was wrong. John turned around and was totally unscathed. He began to walk back to the truck. The bear began to follow him. John turned back and firmly told that bear to “STAY.” The bear did.

          John got back into the truck. It was at about that point when another kid who had tossed the bear a couple of wieners, was chased back across the road. That teenager had to leap into the bed of his truck to avoid becoming a bear snack.

          I told John Fang and I thought he was an idiot. He proceeded to tell me,

          “If I had been afraid, the bear would have known that. I wasn’t afraid at all. It ate the bread and jam out of my hands and that was it.”

          When I worked at the zoo, I made arrangements for AJ to feed the bears, probably in 1998. He’d gotten married and spent his honeymoon in Glacier National Park and was terribly disappointed he hadn’t seen any grizzly bears. Personally, I was extremely thankful he was unable to follow in his father’s footsteps.

          When I made those arrangements, I didn’t tell AJ what was up, just told him to be at the zoo at 9:00 am. I walked him down to the grizzly bear exhibit and introduced him to the keeper, Carl. AJ was given a bottle of honey and told to go out into the exhibit and spread the honey around anywhere he wanted to. He did while I watched.

          Then, Carl brought out a bunch of fruit for us to feed the Denali and Keema And, yes, I got to feed them too…a first for me even though I had worked there for years. You cannot feed one and not the other. The grizzly bears stood up and put their paws on the steel mesh. The size of their nails was amazing. AJ and I, under Carl’s tutelage carefully fed the bears.

          Carl left and came back with a bowl of grapes. He told us we could feed the grapes to the bears one at a time. I was watching AJ. His eyes went immediately to Carl’s hands and I could almost hear him counting, 1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, and thinking, okay, I can do this. And, we did.

          By the time we finished, I had bear spit up to my elbow, but all my fingers, and AJ’s were intact. I never took the opportunity to take John to the zoo and so he could feed Denali and Keema, but thinking back, I now wish I had.