Taking A Stand...

Week 15

1. Write about a child witnessing a major historical event.

Eleanor had grown up camping, but now at 15, she was sick to death of it. That was the ONLY kind of vacation her parents would take; camping! Never a plane/train/boat...nothing out of this realm of a tent or trailer, and generally to property they owned, so you can’t even say it was a way to see the world. No, they were stubborn in this matter, and frankly Eleanor was finding it time to be stubborn herself. The last trip was rain soaked, and for some reason, Eleanor's bags never made it into their hippie van, so she had no clean clothes on this trip in Washington state in 1980. Her parents, on this occasion, did not go to one of their properties, but chose something commercial closer to home in Vancouver; the only thing Eleanor could do was go for a walk in the rain, and read the headlines of the newspaper in the machine. They said something about a ‘bulge’ at the top of the crown, and steam coming out! That was in May, 1980, and Eleanor knew enough to get that it was a recipe for disaster to go near it again! She begged her parents that she could stay home, and work on her French recipes instead. After all, she was a good student, never in any trouble, and the idea of being wet with no place to plug in a hairdryer was more than she could bear. So, she stayed home that weekend in late May, while her parents and little brother seemed peaked by morbid curiosity to head to Mount Saint Helens rather than stay away from it. That was a weekend that would change a lot of things for their region, and become marked in history for the world to come to know…

That prior weekend, having only had her bright yellow ski jacket and pants, the jeans and sweater she had embroidered underneath, and the bright orange stocking cap to keep warm, had started a shift in Evelyn. She vowed that as an adult, she wouldn’t subjugate herself and her children to ‘only’ camping. Sure, it had its merits, and she was sure when she had children she would take them to some of her favourite haunts when she grew up [and she did], but she wanted to see more of the world beyond just the Pacific NW. One time, as a family discussion, they asked where she wanted to go, and she said an island, someplace warm. Her mother lied her way about it being anything ‘different’. When Eleanor asked if it was a place with a beach, she said yes. Figuring the camping places had beaches, she asked if she it was the kind of place one could wear a bikini [not bundles of layers], and she said yes. Not convinced, she asked, does it have a resort or posh restaurants, and her mother said yes. Was it far away and some place she had not been before, and her mother said yes. Hoping it was Hawaii and packing her bags, they went...camping on Whidbey Island, a mere ferry ride from their property at Port Townsend, and camped. Not different at all...quite the same!

The news that week, although Eleanor wasn’t interested in the news much, was all about seismic action on Mount St Helens. Apparently, there had been a shift and some earthquakes since March, but activity had died down a bit; which is not a good thing when it comes to volcanoes. In fact, Eleanor made that the theme or her paper she wrote in an honors class, adding cartoons suggesting the onlookers wanting to see such a car crash. She was good at writing; not so good at talking, but she could express an opinion via the written word. There were news pictures of puffs of what looked like steam escaping the mountain, and a lot of other scientific stuff she didn’t care about. Rather than taking the heed by the warning to stay away from the mountain, her parents decided to go back to it. What is the saying; the sign of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and expect different results? Eleanor didn’t know that phrase yet, but it would be one that she would learn in her lifetime and refer to when she was banging her head against the wall on life's highway. Right now, after being deceived about the ‘dream vacation’ and the clear and present danger as shown in the news [plus teenage vanity], Eleanor opted out, and vowed she would do things different when she grew up. It was a sudden shift, imperceptible by others, She did swear she felt her backbone tingle with a newfound strength; something that would serve her well later in life…

On that weekend in May, Eleanor treated herself by not having the news on. She turned on her parents old, giant wooden stereo, and out on some classical records for inspiration. They always soothed her in ballet class, she thought maybe they might make her a more sophisticated cook. She slept in past the roughly 8:30 mark of the actual explosion, so was oblivious to anything going on. She decided to make brunch, and work on her crepe recipe...for that, she had an album called Gaite' Parisienne to get her inspired for making fancy sauces. The kitchen faced the backyard, and when Eleanor absentmindedly licked a spoon to put in the sink late that morning, she saw something out of the corner of her eye in the window. Smoke? Her neighbors might be having a burning day; she used to play next door when she was little and knew where all the dads on her street kept their burn barrels. But this seemed different. It was a clear, sunny day, not unlike the rainy camping fiascos, and briefly she congratulated herself on her choice to play grown-up for the weekend...no wild parties, just peace and quiet. The sliding glass doors led off the dining room as the pets were entrusted to her this weekend and seemed to want to go out and see the commotion as well, so she slid open the door to step out into the large back garden. Slightly built and wearing one of the dresses she designed to feel more mature, she walked out into the middle of the yard, and looked to her left. Giant smoke was billowing from the mountain! The blue sky seemed to be changed in the distance, and moving closer. Indeed, for ages to come, she wouldn’t have known then that all colour would drain from her world; even the roses that bloomed so lovely in June, were to be ashen gray. It was Sunday, her parents were due back so her dad could go to work and her brother to elementary school on Monday. She couldn’t remember the name of the town or campsite they were going to, as it didn’t interest her, and this was long before the days of Google. She just stood there; a child, for all her trying to be mature ways, transfixed at something she could not quite wrap her brain around, but she knew it was major and important. 

Calmly, she went back in after what seemed an eternity of staring and finished making her brunch, just assuming her parents would be back by dinner time. Nothing ever interrupted dinner time in their house! It was their only religion. Sitting down, tensely, with her brother being a picky eater and sucking the air out of the room, and her parents invariably arguing about something, mealtime was ornate but not pleasant. They would be home soon, or so she thought. This was long before the days of cell phones, and as she didn’t know the name of the place they were at or if they were on the road, she couldn’t call them on the landline. She did know who her guardians were, as she insisted her parents Will be changed when her uncle was far too fresh with Eleanor when she was younger; something that would haunt her the rest of her life. But she knew if anything happened to her, the friends of the family were lovely people. She often stayed there, so she could study ballet at a professional school in Portland. She played nanny to their kids, and greatly admired the mother, who was well-traveled, beautiful artist and wore the latest fashions. The husband had a calm demeanor, and as a psychologist, had insight. No, she would be safe and fine if anything happened; it kept her eerily calm as dinnertime came and went, and no call or sign of her family….