March 24th

Notes from Pull-And-Be Damned -- Jim Smith

A couple of decades ago, when La Conner Drug Store moved from its long-held site on First Street, right downtown, to the “Early American Strip Mall” at the entrance to town, it introduced us to a new style of life.

At the time, I thought the world was coming to an end. The location of the old drug store midway between where I lived on Morris Street and the La Conner Tavern was an important stabilizing influence in my life. Many others in town felt the same way.

In my mind, to have to walk or drive to the edge of town to shop for medication, notions, lotions, souvenirs, or school supplies was – how do I say it – strip-mallish sickening.

We were an old-fashioned community, struggling to keep the town from becoming like every other town in the rapidly modernizing Puget Sound. Save the Farmland and Don’t Californicate La Conner, we argued. Our life here centered around familiar inefficiency and we wanted to preserve it.

The relocation of La Conner Drug, I feared, would not only be disruptive, but it would open the door to endless updating, streamlining, and complete dismantling of the authentic, if somewhat funky, La Conner style.

I feared this could happen because old-time fishermen – like Ralph Meeks and Archie Billy – informed me of the dire consequences that resulted from another La Conner modernizing project.

It happened back in the 1930s, after the stone jetty was constructed across the mouth of the Skagit River. When the salmon swam up the Channel, as usual, and arrived at the new man-made “fish hole” that led into the river, they stopped there, schooled and went no further. As a result, the great Swinomish Channel salmon run (that I was 30 years too late to witness) came to an abrupt and terrible end.

A similar scenario could happen to me and other loyal La Conner Drug patrons, I thought, if owner and druggist Fred Martin moved off First Street, leaving us small town fish confused, refusing to swim to the upscale facility that was as foreign to us as the fish hole in the new jetty was to the salmon.

After the new drug store opened, however, I was surprised to find that it was comforting to walk in and see Pharmacist Martin still there in his white coat, calmly dispensing drugs behind the gleaming new prescription counter and greeting me by name.

The new drug store was still a little too Pharma-Save-ish for my taste, but my fears had been exaggerated, and in a short time I adapted (more or less) to the look and feel of modern times.

But that was then; this is now!

When I stepped up to the pharmacy counter last week, I was assaulted by a large, thin-screened TV hung over the prescription counter, showing pseudo-pharma-patients talking to pharma-fans about pharma-health issues.

After I speechlessly handed the pharmacist my prescription, I backed up and fell into a seat to wait my turn and was forced to watch commercials on the new “Pharmacy Health Network.”

This time, I thought, the drug store has gone too far and “I’m madder than hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Right then and there, I whipped out my ball point pen and wrote a serious Note of Complaint to the modern times management.

Okay. Well, I’ll give them one more chance. If they can put that screen to good use, I’ll be fine. By good use, I mean good movies. Old ones, preferably, for the comfort and distraction of old folks like me who sit in the prescription waiting area.

Let’s face it, people who sit there are not feeling all that good. They need entertainment, not NutraJoint sales pitches. And it wouldn’t hurt to have the occasional truly useful health infomercial – like directions on how to use an enema bag when you’ve got the modern time “stucks.” Or the healing properties of the occasional hot toddy for stressed-out seniors, etc.

Otherwise, I’d say the world is coming to an end.

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Nuggets from Norway: The Tantes… -- Mickey Bambrick

Within a few weeks of being settled in our home in Norway, we invited my husband’s three “Tantes” (aunts) over for dinner. I was pleased they were our first dinner guests since they are all such fine old ladies.

They couldn’t have been more impressed with our place, and how “koselig” (cozy) it was.

They wondered how I knew what to ship over since I didn’t know what furniture I’d end up with and it seemed to them everything matched perfectly. They thought our living situation was more than a miracle (it was – we lived rent-free). So they were just shy of genuine shock over the whole situation because nothing is free in Norway.

They squealed for a very long time over every decorative detail, and again at dinner over all the things they tasted (I made American food).

Tante Kari had never eaten yams in her entire life (she’s 81) and she wondered if I added food coloring to them to get them that orange. I was glad they were so pleased with the food since it was a genuine challenge to make that dinner.

I had shipped over my beloved Cuisinart food processor so I could make some of my favorite things like Potato-Cheese soup, which needs to be pureed. I discovered too late that it was a waste to bring that machine.

The electrical converters I brought to deal with the voltage differences between America and Europe only go up to 85 watts and that food processor sucks at least 110, so it blew a few fuses before I gave up trying to use it.

I served the worst looking soup in my entire life as I tried to puree it with a hand mixer but the carrots just wouldn’t mush up like the potatoes. I apologized for its appearance, but it still tasted good so I was off the hook for presentation.

Then I made a Lemon-Blueberry bread for dessert that is to die for; but I wasn’t used to the difference in Celsius vs. Fahrenheit ovens and I cooked it too hot so that the top burned and the innards were raw.

I was quite frustrated with the whole mess but I served it anyway because I had no other options since all the stores are closed on Sundays.

Fortunately, I had some Vanilla Sauce.

The Tantes all smothered their bread with the sauce and then raved about how good the dessert was. Like I said, they are fine old ladies.