Des Moines, IA (1970, 1983-1988, 1991-Present)
I've lived here half my life (9 years of my own volition), so I guess I must like it. Having lived in bigger cities, some of the recreational and cultural limitations get to me at times. If not for Borders and a few decent radio stations, I'd have run off years ago. And I don't care what people say, Midwesterners may be nice, but there's a standoffishness here you don't get on the West coast; you really have to be welcomed into the fold for the most part. Still, there are things here that I can't take for granted: my wonderful friends, a reasonable cost of living, traffic problems that consist of little more than lights being red when you get to them. It's a simple kind of life, really, and that's not always a bad thing. (Maybe not, but what else ya got?)

Chicago, IL (1972)
I have two memories of Chicago. One is of getting sick after eating chili at the Montessori preschool. The other is of burning my hand on an iron, then going to the hospital. I always thought we went to the hospital to tend to my injury, but it turns out my parents just worked there. Ah well, can't get all the memories right. (Not blown away by the Windy City? How 'bout something else?)

Portland, OR (1973-1977, 1980-1982)
Portland was one of those places we liked so much, we lived there twice. On the second go, it was just Mom and me and we ended up living in the apartment right next door to the first one (crazy, but true). The first time was good, I was still young (3-6) and carefree back then. The second time...ugh. That's a story I'll have to share another time. Since we spent more time here than anyplace else in the Northwest, Portland feels more like my "hometown" than most. (In truth, the entire Pacific Northwest feels like my "hometown".) Portland is a beautiful place, a little less urban than Seattle but with a similar vibe. As a child, driving into Portland from across the Washington border always made my heart swell with joyful anticipation. (Not unlike the joyful anticipation of seeing the rest of the list...)

Olympia, WA (1977-1978)
This was one of those places I could have taken or left. It was pretty innocuous. We lived in a modern duplex surrounded by gravel. I was enchanted by the sprayer in our kitchen sink (it's the little things) and the lunch milk that came in plastic bags at the elementary school (bizarre...you'd have to have seen it to appreciate it). At school, our teacher was gone most of the year and the substitute taught us all about spiders. It took me years to get over my paralyzing fear of the little eight-legged monsters after that. So I guess Olympia wasn't so innocuous after all. (The list is innocuous. The list is your friend.)

Tacoma, WA (1978-1980)
This was one of the better periods of my childhood. We moved to a different neighborhood after the first year, but my parents kept me in the same school for both years so my life could have some sort of consistency (2 years counted as consistency for us back then, believe me). I finally got to settle down and get into a groove here. I was the golden child, happy and successful and well-liked and totally ignorant of how all of that would inspire spite in the years that followed. There was this boy in my class, Dean Buckingham, who was like my male counterpart, everyone loved him, he had this adorable bashful smile and wore overalls (which is just a fact, not why he was loved). I always thought if things had been different and we'd stayed in Tacoma, I'd have grown up to marry Dean and breed annoyingly adorable children and we'd all be one big happy successful well-liked family. Thank god that didn't happen, where would I be without the bitter little void that since invaded my heart? There was also another little boy there named Louis. When I was moving away, he gave me this darling little goodbye note and asked me to meet him behind the baseball dugout after class one day. All my friends told me he was planning to kiss me. At the moment of reckoning, he lost his nerve, but I still remember the sweetness of him and I pine for those days when a boy could show he liked you with such gentle sincerity and directness and relationships were as uncomplicated as a lazy summer day. (As uncomplicated as the rest of the list? I doubt it!)

Ilwaco, WA (1982-1983)
Ilwaco is a little seaside town on the Willipa Bay Peninsula in southwest Washington. I don't think we even lived in Ilwaco, that's just where our post office was. You can drive down the main drag of the Peninsula and go through 5 towns in as many minutes. It's a tourist trap and everyone is related to each other. Despite these shortcomings, I LOVED this place. We moved here after the 2nd Portland gig and my city ways made me a hit with the locals, the proverbial big fish in the small pond. It was an unaffectedly-quaint, easygoing kind of place, which for some insane reason we decided to leave after a year to go settle in Iowa. I'm still kicking myself for that, and for only visiting the beach on alternate weekends with my dad. I mean, the damn ocean was RIGHT THERE! Talk about taking things for granted. (But I'll never take the list for granted!)

Seattle, WA (1988-1989)
Years of Des Moines complacency have weakened my courage. Otherwise I'd be back in Seattle faster than you can say "Microsoft". I've grown too accustomed to hassle-free morning commutes and an exaggerated sense of personal safety, and the thought of enduring endless months of gray days again leaves me bereft. 3 years ago I visited Seattle after an extended absense and I felt like my very soul had come home. I lived here for merely a year between high school (Des Moines) and college (Bellingham), but it was just enough time to find true love. Now I've got friends here in Des Moines that I'd hate to leave behind, but oh, if I could just find the brave spot in my heart to go. Perhaps, though, Seattle for me is like a lover you thrill to see once a year but could never fashion a life with. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway. (You can tell yourself this is just a bad dream, but the list suggests otherwise.)

Bellingham, WA (1989-1991)
In theory, I should have loved Bellingham. It's cozied between Seattle and Victoria, B.C., two of my favorite places in the world. My beloved ocean is comfortingly close. When I lived there, I had my first sweet taste of freedom from my parents, and wonderful adventures with my friend Cristy. Nonetheless, it just never endeared itself to me. Maybe it was because I was there for college, an endeavor I was wholly unenthused about. Maybe it was the dreadful months I spent toiling in the Accounts Payable department at Georgia-Pacific (me + math = bad). It always felt like like a one-horse town to me, and after years of being away from it, the endless gray of Pacific Northwest seasons was disheartening. After Bellingham, I concluded that small-town life just wasn't for me, Ilwaco being a notable exception, although I probably would've grown resentful of that place, as well. My favorite place in Bellingham (besides the drugstores, where I bought all that hair color) was the luncheonette at Woolworth's. Cristy and I used to sit at the counter noshing on creamy milkshakes and grilled cheese sandwiches while making up elaborate stories just to confound the other patrons. Sadly, they closed the place down. Seems like all of our creative meccas are now defunct, like the TCBY in Des Moines (and it seems like they're all centered around frozen chocolate confections). It's rather depressing. (Perhaps seeing the list again will cheer you up...)

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