Why do people move to a small island that doesn’t have any bridges to the mainland?  I suppose people live here for many reasons.  We have some peculiarities about our population.  We have many artists and some world recognized scientists.  We have Summies, aka summer people, who visit their beach houses in the summer.  We have tourists.  Some people move here thinking living here would be like a permanent vacation.  They stay about six months then leave because they can’t cope with the ferries.  Other people adapt to the ferry schedule and live here for decades.  We’ve been here about thirty-five years, so we obviously adapted to the ferries. 
 
Actually we adapted quite well.  When our youngest daughter came home from her first year of college, she couldn’t find a summer job right away.  Hubby suggested she brew up some coffee and see if she could sell it to people waiting in line for the morning ferry.  “Just until you find something permanent.”  Her company Quayside Coffee became a fixture at the south end ferry dock for nine years.
 
She brewed the coffee at home at about four in the morning, emptied it into pump pots and took the coffee with cream, cocoa, tea, cups and lids down to the ferry dock at about five-thirty in the morning.  She had a red Radio Flyer wagon that she hauled in the back seat of the car to carry all her supplies up the hill from the dock to the end of the line of cars waiting for the next boat.
 
When my daughter went back to college in the fall, I took over the business because it proved way too lucrative to just drop, and I had two daughters in college.  We’d determined that being outdoors in all weather in the Pacific Northwest required special clothing.  We had wool pants, heavy shoes, a wool sweater and, in particularly foul weather, a raincoat under a reflective vest. Since we were the same size, we only needed one set of the coffee-lady clothes.  Customers recognized the clothes and wagon in the dark and some may never have known that more than one person ran the business. 
 
Walking in the dark, under the stars up the hill and waiting for the next customer to arrive in their car at the end of the line felt extremely peaceful.  Doing the job in the rain was just miserable. We persevered.  Sometimes to keep ourselves from falling asleep waiting for the next batch of customers we’d play fairy queen on a quest, imagining ourselves accompanying Frodo on his way to Mordor.  After all that’s what people do under the stars.
 
My favorite and most memorable pastime was making up songs to tell the story of our business.  My daughter a musician and sometime actress had dance steps for some of her songs. Thus, she and I became the very first opera company on Vashon Island.
 
Two boats alternated serving our ferry dock at that time.  Usually, we had a smallish boat named the Hiyu.  My favorite song of those I wrote was about the Hiyu and must be sung with a French accent. 
 
La Bateau Hiyu
 
I remember the days of the Hiyu
When the boat, Ahhh, she overload
And I have my own little café
Le café a cote de la road.
 
The people they are stranded on the island
They have no place they can go
I serve them the coffee and laughter
From le café a cote de la rue
 
I love my own little café
Where I serve the coffee I brew
So I sing about selling la chocolate
From the café a cote de la rue
 
May God bless la bateau la Hiyu
She leave so many behind
But how can the people be angry
When they love ma petite café
 
When we all love ma petite cafe
La café a cote de la rue.
 
I think I fit in well with Vashon Weird. 
 
Of course, life is never all singing and dancing.  The business had a darker side, other than the fact that the sun was never up.  I frequently killed the coffee lady.  At the time, I was doing some advisory work and advocacy in the state capital.  On mornings when I needed to be in Olympia, I’d pack the wagon and supplies back in the car and follow my customers onto the boat.  As the coffee lady, I’d carry my garment bag up to the upper deck and into the ladies restroom.  There I would transform into the social psychologist and pack the coffee lady away into the garment bag emerging in a business suit, stockings, heels, make-up and neatly coifed hair.  For reasons I don’t understand the social psychologist always struggled to avoid throwing the bundle of clothing representing the coffee lady overboard. 
 
The transformation between my two personas shocked my system somehow.  The beloved coffee lady was respected and greeted warmly.  Let’s face it, government officials were not happy when the social psychologist showed up to tell them what is what and that any other options were morally bankrupt.  So, why did I always feel like I’d killed the coffee lady and should dispose of her remains overboard?  Perhaps the social psychologist was a bit jealous of the coffee lady’s wealth and popularity.
 
For more Island Life humor, visit The Write Room.  My story, Island Life: Mountain Lion is posted there.  http://www.thewriteroomblog.com/
 
 

Recently I received two books on the mind, body, health relationship, Preventing Heart Disease and Cancer by T. Skarshaug and Energy Medicine for Women by Donna Eden.  When two unconnected people give me the same sort of thing, I listen. Both books mention energy inside the body and how the body’s cells communicate with each other.  Both mention the importance of a positive attitude.  Both call this positive attitude love and hope. They stress the importance of loving one’s self and loving others. 
 
I think both of these books contain an important piece of wisdom for our society.  Right now, I see way too much media influence focused on the hate-of-the-week or the fear-of-the-month.  What damage is this focus doing to our bodies as individuals and to the fabric of our society?
 
I don’t want to get into a political discussion on this, but wish rather to point out the nastiness of this current political campaign is a symptom of something more pervasive and serious than an electoral campaign. I want us to look at the burden of fear and hate individuals are carrying with them every day as they go about the tasks of parenting, interacting with neighbors, and fulfilling the duties of their careers.  This burden of hate and fear has got to be eating up their bodies.  The fear and hate eat up relationships. 
 
When we talk about total health vs the absence of disease, the doctors who authored the books I’ve mentioned agree that hate and fear are the emotions that interfere with our bodies’ natural defense mechanisms allowing disease to grow.  Hate and fear drink up our energy for living life to it’s fullest. 
 
Do you want to choose illness over health?  As a cancer survivor, I can tell you that you really don’t want cancer.  Is choosing to hang on to fear and hate really worth getting cancer?  I admit I have a problem with fear.  I believe that my chronic insecurity used up valuable energy that my body needed to combat the toxic dose of radiation I received.  I know the fear I’ve carried within me has drained me of energy and stifled my creativity.  I’m well acquainted with fear and its effect on the human body.  My advice is to choose to believe that life will be okay.
 
So, what can we do to choose love and wholeness over fear and hate? The first step is easy.  Turn off the TV and stop the newspaper.  I know we are supposed to be well informed to be responsible citizens.  Read books or listen to books on tape.  A book gives you more information than a thirty-second sound bite.  A whole book can give you an alternate perspective on your perceptions of reality.  Once you start reading books read all of Mark Twain and some of Rudyard Kipling.  You will be well informed, and have gained wisdom and perspective for defeating the manufactured fear-of-the-month. 
 
Choosing to love may be easier and more beneficial to your health than banishing fear, wave to your neighbors when you see them on the street or in their yards.  Practice helping others instead of judging them. 
 
If your kid hasn’t done their homework, sit with them and see if you can help them.  You will probably figure out they haven’t done their homework because they don’t know how.  Love involves placing yourself in someone else’s position to understand how they feel and what they need.  You can choose to love when faced with something that frightens you.  You can choose to love when faced with something or someone who looks different than you.  You do have the power to direct your actions and feelings instead of being manipulated by the media to serve those powers that will destroy your community, your energy and your health.
 
My favorite method for reminding myself to choose love and hope over hate and fear involves what I call Mantras for Living.  As a method for changing how the mind perceives it’s environment, professionals call this method repetition.  We’ve all heard that if we hear something repeated often enough we come to believe it is true.  I’ve helped my clients construct positive statements they can use to learn to combat their fears and lack of self-love.  Mantras to combat fear include statements such as; Today is going to be a great day.  I am in a safe place to be. I’m gonna ace this job. Today is a great day. I can handle anything that comes at me.  After using this method for years with clients, I finally took a page from my own book and started using it myself, and I have seen my health improve.  My arthritis is less troublesome.  I have more energy and my fibromyalgia symptoms have disappeared.  I’ve been cancer free for five years.
 
Mantra’s for loving include, I am lovable, I love my self, I love people, I love my spouse, and I love who I am. 
 
With both sets of mantra’s I’ve included two statements that are almost identical because they most reinforce the root emotion I want to develop.  I like to use groups of five statements so each statement can be counted off on the fingers.  Mantras are most effective if repeated throughout the day when driving, using the rest room, when exercising, or taking a break from routine tasks.
 
These are the tools to changing your life. Use them well.  You are going to have many great days and be filled with love for yourself and those around you.

This weeks blog is an excerpt from my upcoming novel Summer Chaos.

                                                  ****
 The Olympic College library where Mandy worked closed the first week in August since classes were out, and the building needed a thorough cleaning.  She took the opportunity to visit Fay in Victoria, leaving me home alone.  She should have updated me on what was happening in Victoria.  Her silence on the wedding head-count fueled my obsession with numbers and made me more anxious. The wedding anxieties kept me awake until midnight.
 
Finally, my wedding day arrived. The sewer project was in full swing and the road in front of my house had been dug up with a deep trench filled with sewage. The stench filled my nostrils, upset my stomach, and reminded me a killer lurked in our community.

Mom came early to help me into my wedding dress.  Trevor cheerfully ferried her from the county park to my dock in his kayak then went out to the front lawn to build a drawbridge over the trench. 

“Mom, the seat of your dress is wet.”

“I’ll just dry it in the dryer while we get you into your gown.”  Mom true to her word popped her dress, the same one she wore to my first wedding, in the dryer emerging in a lacy slip.  “It’s fortunate that I chose something wash and wear for your weddings.”  She helped me into the muslin dress Patty made for a pattern saying, “The muslin is so pretty, you don’t really need the satin dress, and Ralph would prefer you naked anyway.”

“Mom, I don’t think I’m really supposed to wear this.  I’m sure Patty will bring my real wedding dress. Look the seams are on the outside.”

“They look like ruffles, very pretty.  You better put this on in case Patty decides to go skiing or visit friends instead of bringing your dress.  She’s an adult now and can’t be running over here every weekend.”  Mom zipped the muslin dress up the back. 

I tried not to get upset over the zipper when I’d wanted a row of buttons on my wedding dress.

Once dressed, I emerged on my back lawn to find guests and neighbors setting up chairs and tables.  Shirley, the chair of my Care Committee had cut the wedding cake saying, “Life’s short, eat cake first.”

Mom in her slip bustled about helping guests to cake and handing out napkins. 

I wandered to the front lawn where Trevor had constructed a massive medieval drawbridge complete with chains and huge wooden wheels and pulleys.  “It’s all computer controlled.”  Trevor gleefully explained as he lowered the bridge allowing guests waiting in the road to drive across. 

A man in a yellow hardhat yelled at Trevor.  “You can’t do that.  We don’t want anybody coming or going during construction.”

Everybody ignored the man in the yellow hat. 

Patty hadn’t arrived with my dress yet, which was okay because Ralph hadn’t arrived yet either.
 
Loud music drew me back to my back lawn.  A rock band had run a spider web of extension chords across the patio.  They’d taped them down with clear tape.  Rich explained, “We couldn’t find silver tape and thought the clear looks better.”

“Where is your father?”

“I don’t know. I think he planned on coming.  He said something about coming to hear my new band play.”

“I didn’t know you were in a band.”

“I just learned to play this week, but I’ve listened to Jimi Hendrix for years, so don’t worry, we’ll be great.

At this moment a large eye on a pole emerged from the lake.  Cary pointed and yelled, “Look it’s a Plesiosaurus Rex.”

The large eye ascended with a rush of water as a nuclear submarine rose out of the lake sending a large wave of water up the lawn knocking down my trustee committee who were setting up a champagne fountain. 

Sailors climbed out of a hatch on the submarine and threw ropes to Trevor on the dock. Trevor rafted the submarine to his kayak as sailors began to scramble out asking for food. 

Finally, I saw Ralph’s baldhead emerge from the hatch.  I ran down the lawn trying not to slip on lake weeds that had washed up on the lawn bringing the stench of failed septic tanks to my back lawn.

Ralph pulled me into a hug.  All of a sudden, I didn’t care about the sewer or the cake or my dress.  Ralph held me.  I looked up at him.  “Why a submarine.”

“I knew the road was torn up, and I wanted to be certain I could get here, so I called in a few favors at the state department, and they loaned me the submarine.  Of course, we we’ll have to feed the crew.”

As Ralph and I floated up the lawn arm in arm, I heard one of the sailors talking to Cary about underground rivers and how the submarine could go anywhere in the underground rivers.
​
Everything would be okay.  Ralph had arrived.
 
My bladder woke me up.  As I shuffled off the to bathroom, I wondered why it still seemed possible that a submarine could get into Oak Lake.  I shook my head and drank water until the dream receded and I could sleep without further anxieties.  On my way back to bed, I told John Wesley, “You know, I think I trust Ralph to do as he says.”