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Jetty
Island might literally be only a stone's throw from Everett but I
don't
know for sure because I didn't think to try at the time. It was 11 a.m.
and a crowd was gathered on the grass at 10th Street Boat Launch
waiting to board
the 80-person rub-a-dub-dub toy boat of a ferry to cross the narrow
mouth of Snohomish River to the dock plainly visible on just the
other side. I think our short walk through the parking field had
covered
a
greater distance. If it's not the shortest scheduled ferry route
in the world, please let me know. They gave us big purple laminated
boarding passes for the 1 p.m. crossing. I eyed the locals putting in
their motorboats at the floating docks far below on the very low tide
and decided against begging a ride. I suggested we get a rubber raft
and paddle across but forgot that plan as we bided our time at the
local Goodwill
where Jesse, Will, and I bought sunhats and Simon opted
for a black visor emblazoned with gold big cat. I also bought a
footish-long toy swamp boat which reminded me of the beach play of my
youth. As we boarded, I spotted a woman in line who I thought could be
a Michael Jackson lookalike. Jesse thought it was a reach but then on
the boat they played Bad and Billie Jean so who knows--maybe Michael is
alive and sharing an apartment in Everett with Jim Morrison. The beach
on Jetty Island is a long thin dune and wide tide flat. The shallows
make it one of the rare warm spots on Puget Sound and the heavy steady
breeze brought out kiteboarders in droves.
The number grew the four hours we were there, topping out and
holding steady at 32 as we left. The wind was also good for sailing so
we put a plastic bag to new use.
Simon kept calling the boat "Macy's"
as a result, but I preferred to think of it as The Western Flyer from
John Steinbeck's The Log
from the Sea of Cortez, which I happened to have with me. With sun,
sand, and fun to distract me I didn't get much reading done, but
what little I did sure stuck out: There is a strange duality in the
human which makes for an ethical
paradox. We have definitions of good qualities and of bad; not changing
things, but generally considered good and bad throughout the ages and
throughout the species. Of the good, we think always of wisdom,
tolerance, kindliness, generosity, humility; and the qualities of
cruelty, greed, self-interest, graspingness, and rapacity are
universally considered undesirable. And yet in our structure of
society, the so-called and considered good qualities are invariable
concomitants of failure, while the bad ones are cornerstones of
success. Driving home we sought pho and played free jazz
on a street
corner
piano while a young classical pianist leaned against a wall
patiently awaiting his turn and then launched into Chopin as we
departed. Just another minor summer miracle.
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