I know that I am not the only person to share a name with a famous person. I have a friend named Micheal Jackson, and there is a Paul Newman in my community circle. But the majority of you folks haven't had the experience of pausing every time you state your name, preparing for a joke, a giggle, or the question, "THEEE Sharon Stone?" This happens when making appointments over the phone, when introducing myself to strangers, and even once at the US/Canadian border crossing. Approaching the booth housing the border agent, I reached out my car window to flash my NEXXUS card at the electronic reader - then the American border agent sauntered out with a goofy grin and said, "Well, if it isn't SHARON STONE!!" with an exaggerated, humor-laden tone. Like I'd never heard that before...
Sunday, March 9, 2025
Not THAT Sharon Stone
Monday, February 24, 2025
Reading the Waves
Our creaky 100 year old house with one shower for 8 people was located smack in the middle of Caledonia Cove - a rocky, barnacled beach around the corner from the Port of Tacoma. Summers were the best. We spent so much time on the beach and in the water - floaty toys, wet suits, rubber rafts and a rowboat - all central to my childhood memories.
Often we would watch the shipping traffic, keeping an eye out for a good wake on which to play. A big ship loaded high with shipping containers coming into port might create a row of waves that, when we floated on the surface of the water on an inflatable toy, make our stomach jump into our throats over and over and over again - bobbing out of control until the ripples petered out and the water was smooth again. On one occasion I remember losing sight of my sister as we both dropped into the valleys between two waves and I could only see the wall of water around me…until we both rode to the top of our respective wave and squealed to one another. Not all wakes were the same. Some tugboats pulling a log-boom were too slow to carve a path deep enough and by the time the waves reached the shore they were little more than disappointing ripples on the surface of the water. But others with a faster pace and deeper load could carve huge, high swells that would eventually roll into our bulkhead with thunderous crashes and sprays of white foam. Those were the waves we watched and waited for.
Today, many decades after those childhood memories were carved into my brain, I returned to the cove to send the last remnants of some loved ones back to that place we loved so much. My mother passed 3 years ago, my dad 6 years, and we lost my big brother to meningitis 19 years ago. As a family, we had ceremoniously scattered some of their ashes together, but we also divvied them up for each of us to deal with in our own, personal way. I had felt the need to hold onto my portion, although I’m still trying to figure out why - maybe the dread of letting go? I do know that now I have come to realize that it’s the memories that matter and not the things, the physical things that increasingly feel like they are weighing me down.
There was a light fog and the water was so glassy and still. We navigated the rounded, wave-
smoothed rocks and pebbles down to the shore, stopping to pick up the perfect skipping rocks, rounded and flat, to see how many splashes we could get with one skilled toss. As we walked I noticed a fast moving tug, with no load, heading around the lighthouse into the port. We found a spot and pulled out the ashes, mixing my mom and dad and brother together, right at the lip of the lapping water. But I was worried that as the tide went out, they would be left there in a soggy heap, instead of washing out to sea.
I said that we should wait until that wake comes to wash them away. Mark asked me, “What wake?” I pointed out the line of churning water-ribbon far out in the shipping lane that appeared to be following the long-gone tug boat. Then he saw it. We paused and just a couple of minutes after I said how fun it would be to see a sea lion or otter, a huge dark sea lion, not more than 15 meters from us, appeared seemingly out of nowhere from the water with a big exhale, and then took a deep breath as he gracefully disappeared under the surface. Thank you, sea lion, for that gift.
We waited a few minutes until the waves came - little bumps in the water at first, then growing - crashing on the rocks of the lighthouse first as they worked their way down the beach to the ashes. The perfect waves. After ten or fifteen rolling crashes, the dust of my family members disappeared and completely integrated back into the nature we all loved so much. It turned out to be the perfectly perfect day - not dreadful or sad - just peaceful and reflective - much like the calm, silvery surface of the Salish Sea.
Wednesday, January 15, 2025
Going Backward
Every day my pups and I head out for an hour or so to release the poops and the Ya-Yas before I head to work and they laze about at home. Depending on the time of year, we may revel in the sunrise or enjoy the chorus of birds looking for love, or like today - view the path through a cylinder of foggy light shining from my headlamp.
Friday, January 3, 2025
Happy New Year from the Stone-Kerrs
Ella turned 24 on February 24th 2024, which makes it not only her golden birthday, but she was born in the auspicious Year of the Golden Dragon in 2000, which only happens once every 60 years. But the Dragon year comes every 12 trips around the sun, so this makes it her own personal Golden Dragon year, making it, like, a double-goldenamazing year! That must have worked, because she landed a job she loves, starting as the Assistant Manager at Claire's (we called her the A** Man for short) and then quickly promoted to Store Manager (now we call her Boss B*tch for short...and for fun). She is just as sweet and sparkly as ever and spreads joy to many little girls!