One summer we were four states away at the base of Tower Falls in Yellowstone National Park, breathing in the mist and taking in the scenery of a switchback trail, and there we spotted a guy in an Alfy’s Pizza T-shirt.
We had to laugh at how instantly we associated the restaurant chain with home.
Another time, we nearly bumped into several joggers dashing through Disneyland wearing Snohomish High School shirts. That same spring break trip found us chatting with former Everett AquaSox co-owner Margaret Bavasi at Los Angeles International Airport.
By now, it shouldn’t surprise me that no matter where we go, Snohomish County seems to be there.
It happened twice last week, when my sons and I drove to Portland, Ore., for spring vacation. When we arrived in the Rose City, we checked into a hotel on the Willamette River, walked from one end of downtown to the other, and found dinner we could agree on at a better-than-good Chinese restaurant.
Stopping in the hotel gift shop for a newspaper, I noticed a picture as familiar as an Alfy’s Pizza logo. It was the view from my normal walking route, an arresting image of sunset at the Everett marina. I recognized it before reading “Snohomish County Holiday” on the cover of the March/April issue of Northwest Travel.
Inside the Oregon-based magazine, the article by Linda Hagen Miller was headlined “From Mild to Wild: Washington’s Snohomish County is more than just a pretty place to shop.” Sightseeing suggestions range from antique shops in Snohomish and the Boeing Tour Center in Everett to whale watching via the Mosquito Fleet and picnicking on the beach in Edmonds.
It all sounds great. Too bad I just used a week’s vacation. What took us to Oregon was a visit for my 17-year-old at the University of Portland.
We were having lunch in the campus commons when another family looking at the school approached us. The man asked: “Are you out of Everett? The Herald?”
Busted. I should know better than to think I can get away with much, even out-of-state. If I were to visit Egypt’s pyramids, there’d be a friendly face from Snohomish County riding the camel next to mine.
It’s my home, after all, and has been for longer than I’ve lived anywhere else. That only dawned on me as I stood in a hotel gift shop and stared at the sunlit picture of Everett. It’s where I’m from.
If you’ve read this column for long, you might not expect me to say of Everett, “It’s where I’m from.”
I was born and raised in Spokane, a third-generation member of an Eastern Washington wheat-farming family. I spent 18 years there. Then it was off to Seattle for college (the five-year plan), followed by work in Pendleton, Ore., for three years before moving here.
Since 1981, Everett has been home. Now it’s where I’m from.
At the University of Portland last week, visiting parents and high school students attended classes to get a notion of what they’re like. In a communications class, the professor asked us to break into groups. We introduced ourselves by first names and hometowns.
“We’re from the Seattle area,” I said to a circle of several parents, then added, “Everett, actually.” A woman from Sequim replied, “Oh, I know Everett, it’s pretty.”
It is pretty – and it shouldn’t surprise us when that is the first impression visitors have. It’s pretty, it’s where I’m from, and it seems to follow wherever I go.
Columnist Julie Muhlstein: 425-339-3460 or muhlsteinjulie@heraldnet.com.
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