Every town tells stories about itself. Some are true. Some should be true. Some survive because people need them to.
The official stories usually appear on plaques and welcome signs. The interesting stories are told over coffee, at city council meetings, in dive bars, on Reddit and by the guy who insists his grandfather knew Billy Frank, Jr.
Before we can change a place, we have to make sense of the stories that hold it together. Making sense of a place is its own quiet form of activism.
Olympia does not fully reveal itself through facts alone. Making sense isn't the same thing as being certain. It's a process. Sometimes facts get you there. Sometimes metaphor gets you there faster.
I can't imagine writing about this place without occasionally bending language until it reveals something the plain version wouldn't.
As for humor, it's very important to me that no one laugh — least of all me. That's why I never read my own column. If you've ever laughed while reading it, please accept my apologies.
All kidding aside, humor has an odd reputation. It is routinely treated as the opposite of seriousness, when in fact it's often the shortest route to it. If what you're looking for is a straightforward chronology of names and dates, there are people who do that beautifully. My interest lies somewhere else.
My column is not a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are not products of my imagination. Resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely intentional.
Olympia may never fully make sense to any of us. Sense-making is a process — a journey, not a destination. That journey requires a wide range of styles. That's what I offer.
Throughout my column, I often use the word "Olympia." This refers not only to the official city limits, but to the larger cultural orbit around the capital city — including Lacey, Tumwater, and parts of unincorporated Thurston County. The boundaries are imprecise because Olympia itself is imprecise.
Over the next few months, I'll be taking even more creative risks. Some readers will love them. Some won't. That's fine. I wasn't trying to settle any arguments.
My goal has always been to make Olympia stranger, clearer, and somehow more recognizable at the same time.
When things suddenly get weird, don't assume I've lost control. I know what I'm doing. Familiar language has a way of making familiar places invisible. Every so often, language has to wander off the pavement just to remind your eyes they're still awake.
So, slow down. Walk around. Read the plaque, then ignore it. Talk to the old-timer at the coffee shop. Wonder why the roads go where they do. Listen to the glacial gravel crunching under your feet. It has waited twelve thousand years for someone to hear it.
If my column succeeds, it won't be because you agree with every sentence.
It'll be because the next time you leave your house, you'll see something you hadn't noticed before.
David Scherer Water writes his column on a yellow 1973 IBM electric II. He then reads his first draft out loud into a smartphone, sends it as an email to himself where it goes through a final polish before reaching you. As the world moves deeper into words churned out by robots, David remains committed to an off-line brain, a stack of paper, and the friction of ink. Please support his work by becoming a free or paid subscriber to his Substack.
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OvercastDays
Love the addendum about your writing process, David!
Friday, July 17 Report this
AliceV
The suspense is killing me.
Monday, July 20 Report this