Alone

Firsts. Alone

Flying to Spokane, Washington on my way to Eastern Washington University I had several things parading through my alleged mind. First and foremost I didn’t know a soul and I’d never been up this far north. My parents had gone to a thing called Marriage Encounter at EWU and liked the area, so they strongly suggested I make my way up there, and of course I did.

The one thought swirling through my mind was freedom, no one knew me, I could be anyone I wanted. Back in December of 1979 that intrigued me, I was a free agent, and could play any role I chose. I arrived early evening in Spokane dressed in light dress pants, a long sleeve button down shirt and a light sweater, fucking brrr.

I got into a cab and the old man had made reservations at a local hotel, eighth floor and the first thing I did was dig through my suitcase searching for something warm to wear. I gazed out the window and all I could see was flat land and snow and the thought crossed my mind “what the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

There weren’t cell phones back then or computers to check weather so I’d gone from a warm California day to a frosty Washington night. After staring out the window for at least an eternity or two, I ordered room service and looked at my schedule. I was due on campus the next morning at 9:00AM and had a cab arriving an hour earlier to take me there. I have to admit I was a bit anxious , I had no one to lean on but me.

When I arrived on campus my dorm wasn’t ready so I got to spend night number one at EWU on a cot in the gym with hundreds of other new arrivals. I also had to go on campus and check registration and I indeed got the classes I wanted. We were fed in the cafeteria and it was packed, not knowing anyone I filled my tray and looked for a place to park my butt and eat. I ended up sitting at a table filled with black athletes, I was the only white guy at the table. We hit it off great since I knew sports and I was twenty two and they were all a bit younger.

I hung out with a fellow named Chuck Bannion who was a star sprinter and we slept in cots next to each other that night. He was a San Diego kid and we bullshitted late into the night. I would have roomed with Chuck all year if I had the choice, but he was whisked away to the track house and I was on the fifth floor at Dressler Hall, a round nine story dorm with guys and girls on every other floor, Nirvana I figured.

I was introduced to my roommate R. Cole Chetney from Claremont, California, so we both came a long way to end up being roommates. Cole was a big blonde doofus but after I quickly established who was the Alpha male, he took his Beta spot and never argued. The fifth floor was full of characters, Clark Garnett from Calgary, Canada, who married his college sweetheart and now lives on Vancouver Island, Tim Tonani who still resides in Spokane and is a Real Estate Broker, and David Allen Morris, or as we knew him, Mojo, who lives forty five minutes north of me in Sandpoint, Idaho. Mojo, T Martin, Matt his wife Raeona and I all shared a two bedroom apartment on tenth street in Newport back in 1980, so yea I met some guys.

I got a gig as a DJ on the college radio station and introduced music to my backward redneck friends and had a great Friday night time slot. Sometimes, I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’d be a bit bubbly on air due to alcohol consumption, and that may have bit me in the butt on ‘Win a Date with a DJ” night, as only Mojo called in to razz me. It certainly was a hoot though.

Mojo and I also became boxing trainers as we talked a Tonani into boxing in an on campus event, and although he stood toe to toe with another warrior, he came in a close second, and Mojo and I gave up our careers as trainers.

My year was however cut short when four or five of us were on campus watching the movie “Life of Brian” and came out to what we thought was more snow, nope Mt. St. Helens had erupted and ash fell for days. They closed down every class, the cafeteria and even in the dorms we were required to wear masks, those fucking things haunt me.

Four of us decided this was enough, loaded up some backpacks and headed north. There was very little traffic on the road but a truck picked us up and within an hour we were at the U.S.-Canadian border, and there was no ash, just sunshine and blue skies. We spent a week thumbing a toss the state, partying at the University of Washington with Mojo’s sorority friends and spent the last two days in the Tacoma area with my moms family.

I crashed a prom with my guys on a three hour tour of Lake Coeur D’Alene and moved up almost forty years later. Last summer Matt came up, and he, T Martin, Mojo and I recreated our tenth street misadventures at a Jackson Brown concert in Sandpoint.

The picture above was taken by T Martin two weeks ago on the St. Joe River.

I’m still waiting for a president to be named and life to move forward, I don’t understand all this nonsense but I’m fucking over it. Stay well my friends. By the way, this was Part One, the next one us a bit seedier.

Washington State had its advantages as well, for back then one could drink and drive, just not be drunk driving, a fine line indeed. And Mojo and I generally walked everywhere so that wasn’t our biggest worry, usually school work came right after having fun and chasing skirt, but things get a lot more interesting in Part Two