Journeys lead a body to places new and different, or familiar with degrees of variation. Like migratory creators our old dears returned to the Pacific Northwest when the final straw made living on the island, in a car impossible. Pele goddess of fire and maker-of-new-land has big plans for re-building Earth, and stopping her volcanic activity is not part of the picture. VOG has become a regular presence on the islands since the new vents on Hawai`i Island turn rock into corridors of liquid fire. Sulphuric acid is the main ingredient in the volcanic off-gassing, a tough love sort of off-gassing that defies escape especially for a multiple chemical human living in a car. Jay John Sam Tall’s old friend had a place in Seattle where they could land. It was an offer, a small yet real one and Sam and Sal have learned to recognize small miracles.
They live mostly in a tiny room other people might use as a place to set up a table surrounded with a few chairs where tasty meals could be cooked up on the stove a few steps around the partial wall. The opening between the dining room and living room is hung tightly with a mint-green flannel sheet tacked like an animal hide in a yurt. The flannel wall and plumber’s foil backing keep the smell of old, moldy, smoke-trapped carpeting out of their safe abode. A sturdy steel-constructed air purifier runs day and night to keep the room as clear as possible. The large sliding glass door brings the Outdoors in yet seals the smell of smoke, jet exhaust and the remnants of airborne residue from the industry that is the reality of the environment. That rice kernel of strength within, a promise to live is polished daily, and our friends make camp.
The small and efficient kitchen built thirty years ago serves Sam and Sally in a fashion understandable by those who live with chemical sensitivities. They use the sink, though don’t drink the water. Seattle’s water system is purposely tainted with fluoride. Our gal Sal is seriously sensitive to the chemical that some say is one of the best kept secrets for crowd control. Others shout fluoride’s ability to keep teeth cavity free. So much information, still we must make our decisions based on what rings true. Rather than drink the tap water Sam has rigged a water filtration system up outside their home space. The reverse osmosis systems filters the fluoride and most ever thing else out of the water. Glass jugs emptied of their favorite Northwest cider fills with the chemical-free water. None of the cabinets are safe. The old particle board construction is in the long and short run filled with hazardous fumes. Three decades later the smell of deteriorating wood and glue is a whiff of danger. Silvery plumber’s foil covers all the cupboards and cabinets in the kitchen. The refrigerator and stove remain unused; instead a long-used plastic cooler with water jugs frozen solid in the upstairs freezer keeps food chilled. Rather than risk filling their tiny safe place with smoke from the stove, a large covered walkway outside serves as kitchen with a hot plate for boiling a kettle for tea, cooking a soup and a slow-cooking crock pot for stews.
There are in-door luxuries our two dears do enjoy: a shower with hot water, a private toilet and an electric washer and dryer free of past smelly detergents or dryer sheets. To get at the luxuries Sam and Sally must go out to get in. The two large rooms between their dining room safe-place and the bathroom are carpeted and unlivable, so a snaking path out, in, and through three interior doors opens to the bathroom-laundry. “You’re only using one room,” J.J. their friend and the owner of the home was thrown for a loop when he saw how his friends had reconfigured the apartment. Sally corrected their friend, “Two rooms. Remember we’ve lived in a car, showered at the beach, washed our clothes in a cooler and shared a toilet with the throngs. Now we have a room to sleep in, electricity to heat us, a sink inside and a bathroom with a laundry. We’d like to rent this place and use it just as you see it.” Who’s to know for sure what J.J. thought? Sam’s longtime friend offered the migratory pair a place to re-write the rules about what’s normal. Over pancakes and biscuits at the local diner the three friends agreed to a rent and work-trade arrangement that satisfied the trio. Family and friends don’t get how differently Sam and Sally live with the world, until they see them live it a day at a time. Creative survival and the steep learning curve served up as multiple chemical sensitivities have taught Sam Tall and Sally Round that living in a house can be as safe as setting up camp in a mine field. So, for now the yurt-like life suits our man Sam and his dear wife Sally.
They live mostly in a tiny room other people might use as a place to set up a table surrounded with a few chairs where tasty meals could be cooked up on the stove a few steps around the partial wall. The opening between the dining room and living room is hung tightly with a mint-green flannel sheet tacked like an animal hide in a yurt. The flannel wall and plumber’s foil backing keep the smell of old, moldy, smoke-trapped carpeting out of their safe abode. A sturdy steel-constructed air purifier runs day and night to keep the room as clear as possible. The large sliding glass door brings the Outdoors in yet seals the smell of smoke, jet exhaust and the remnants of airborne residue from the industry that is the reality of the environment. That rice kernel of strength within, a promise to live is polished daily, and our friends make camp.
The small and efficient kitchen built thirty years ago serves Sam and Sally in a fashion understandable by those who live with chemical sensitivities. They use the sink, though don’t drink the water. Seattle’s water system is purposely tainted with fluoride. Our gal Sal is seriously sensitive to the chemical that some say is one of the best kept secrets for crowd control. Others shout fluoride’s ability to keep teeth cavity free. So much information, still we must make our decisions based on what rings true. Rather than drink the tap water Sam has rigged a water filtration system up outside their home space. The reverse osmosis systems filters the fluoride and most ever thing else out of the water. Glass jugs emptied of their favorite Northwest cider fills with the chemical-free water. None of the cabinets are safe. The old particle board construction is in the long and short run filled with hazardous fumes. Three decades later the smell of deteriorating wood and glue is a whiff of danger. Silvery plumber’s foil covers all the cupboards and cabinets in the kitchen. The refrigerator and stove remain unused; instead a long-used plastic cooler with water jugs frozen solid in the upstairs freezer keeps food chilled. Rather than risk filling their tiny safe place with smoke from the stove, a large covered walkway outside serves as kitchen with a hot plate for boiling a kettle for tea, cooking a soup and a slow-cooking crock pot for stews.
There are in-door luxuries our two dears do enjoy: a shower with hot water, a private toilet and an electric washer and dryer free of past smelly detergents or dryer sheets. To get at the luxuries Sam and Sally must go out to get in. The two large rooms between their dining room safe-place and the bathroom are carpeted and unlivable, so a snaking path out, in, and through three interior doors opens to the bathroom-laundry. “You’re only using one room,” J.J. their friend and the owner of the home was thrown for a loop when he saw how his friends had reconfigured the apartment. Sally corrected their friend, “Two rooms. Remember we’ve lived in a car, showered at the beach, washed our clothes in a cooler and shared a toilet with the throngs. Now we have a room to sleep in, electricity to heat us, a sink inside and a bathroom with a laundry. We’d like to rent this place and use it just as you see it.” Who’s to know for sure what J.J. thought? Sam’s longtime friend offered the migratory pair a place to re-write the rules about what’s normal. Over pancakes and biscuits at the local diner the three friends agreed to a rent and work-trade arrangement that satisfied the trio. Family and friends don’t get how differently Sam and Sally live with the world, until they see them live it a day at a time. Creative survival and the steep learning curve served up as multiple chemical sensitivities have taught Sam Tall and Sally Round that living in a house can be as safe as setting up camp in a mine field. So, for now the yurt-like life suits our man Sam and his dear wife Sally.
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