Backstories

The poets and punks of Grunge Alley: pinkumbrellas2024.blogspot.com

The blog is still there and growing. Today, the collection is in five Pacific Northwest bookstores: Queen Anne Book Company, Third Place Books Ravenna, Seward Park, Lake Forest Park, and Saltwater Bookshop.

The Pink Umbrellas editing project began with this Facebook contact. I asked Charles if he had time to read a chapter and possibly edit it. I pitched it as part fiction, part memoir, 100% Rocket.

Charles sent many pages of tutorial-like editor’s corrections in February of 2024. These are a few of his (sometimes funny) comments. He was kind and busy with his own projects, and exceptionally professional. I didn’t know him well during the ‘90s, but he had the final word on my copy. I’d forgotten much of what I’d learned from freelancing. It was a masterclass in spare writing and Seattle history.

He edited much of the first draft during 2024. This is a sample slideshow of the corrections.

The Rocket magazine in Seattle. Charles’ corner office was above the Palace sign.

The Humphrey Apartments on Second Avenue, as seen from another landmark location in Seattle, the Army Navy Surplus store. My Dad outfitted my Summer Camp expedition here. I was the only girl at Camp Orkila with an Army green surplus sleeping bag, duffle bag and military mess kit. I also had a great flashlight, compass, a pocket knife (which was not a toy or shown to anyone) and a first aid kit. Today, I look back at how butch this might seem to others in 1972, but it was normal for us to be practical rather than stylish.

My dad was a former WWII POW and officer on a B-17G.

Grandma Anna and Jack in San Francisco in 1938. She was happy that he was graduating high school. My grandfather was taking the photo.

Jack took care of Anna all of his adult life. It can be said that they were good friends. This is Anna in 1989, shortly before my dad passed. My brother and I took care of her until 1994. I would visit in the morning and fix breakfast, and Jay would take dinner to her. She was hearing and sight impaired, but had lived in the same place for thirty years. It was home. It was also across the street from Harborview Hospital. Yes, some of the residents (Anna and her bestie) would get lunch at the cafeteria and sit in the Emergency waiting room for “reality TV” when the lobby of Jefferson Terrace was slow.