The third morning of 1998 laid down a two-inch cotton blanket of fresh snow.
That morning I went for a run. It was about a seven-mile loop touching bases at Garland, Riverfront Park, Gonzaga University, Mission Park and Gonzaga Prep.
On that morning I didn’t have a hangover.
I didn’t spend hours slogging through NorthTown Mall with herds of other panicked shoppers. I didn’t stand in a toy store trying to remember if my nephew already had Battleship.
I didn’t eat a single piece of fruitcake or drink a sip of 20-grams-of-fat-per-cup eggnog. I didn’t write any Christmas cards or receive any yearly Christmas letters that remind me of what I haven’t accomplished in the past year.
I didn’t watch any corporate-sponsored bowl games featuring two 7-4 football teams. I didn’t attend a party and feign interest in some guy talking about his new computer as though he was the first person to own one.
I didn’t drive over Snoqualmie Pass, wait in a holiday ferry line or drive in circles looking for a place to park my car. And I did not watch Randy Shaw and Debra Wilde “live from Pasadena.”
In fact, I didn’t do any of the things I’d spent the past week doing. Instead, I went for a run in the snow. The city was quiet, as if it had stopped to catch its breath. I saw few people - probably one person for every three blocks I ran. The lack of noise and activity was palpable, and energizing.
I saw Spokane River geese, lazily read the newspaper from headline to tire ads and said “hi” to the mailman. It felt like a celebration.
MEMO: Your Turn is a feature of the Wednesday and Saturday Opinion pages. To submit a Your Turn column for consideration, contact Rebecca Nappi at 459-5496 or Doug Floyd at 459-5466 or write Your Turn, The Spokesman-Review, P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210-1615.