Whenever I think I’ve missed what I’m looking for it’s usually just up ahead.
My plan for Seattle started in 1995. Enduring private school education in Memphis is pretty much a guaranteed ticket out of the city. Nearly everyone that can go to college elsewhere does. It’s not just because the University of Memphis is fondly called Tiger High, anyone with ambition usually seeks their future outside of the mid-south. Whether fame or fortune, there are more glamorous places to dream than Midtown. A freshman in high school, I set my sight on Seattle for two reasons – the music and the climate.
Weather is usually on the cons list for Washington state. It’s cold and dreary with sporadic outbursts of flooding rains. The sun only comes out when he feels like it and then not for long. Seattle might be where they coined the term Seasonal Depressive Disorder. Combine that with the legendary Seattle Chill and the destination doesn’t exactly scream cozy. Fortunately, I’m odd. The idea of quiet, cloud-covered days sounds good to me. I firmly believe sunny days are more beautiful when they’re rare.
Music rallies a few supporters to my camp. Thanks to the early 90’s, Seattle’s music scene is lauded. It’ll take me a minute to find it. The good local music of any town is hard to pinpoint at first. I’ll just start at the beginning and pay my $5 until I find a good place. Based on the music coming from every part of the west coast, it’s hard to believe I won’t find something. The scene in Memphis gives me a good template to work from. With patience, I’ll find a whole nest of eclectic musicians willing to share their sound.
The other main quality of Seattle is distance. Putting over 2000 miles between me and Memphis will be a completely new sensation. I need the perspective if I’m gonna tell my story. It’s not that I have anything bad to say. For the most part, my story is a happy one. But there are things that need to be said that I can’t seem to get out here. All these trees are blocking my view of the forest.