Stefanie Pettit

Have you ever noticed that when you’re late for an appointment, you catch every red light, freight train at a railroad crossing and nearly all emergency vehicles out that day between your point of departure and intended destination? Not to mention every granny driver, every stopped bus along the route, every crosswalk filled with pedestrians and every road repair detour in town. This might be a bit of an exaggeration, but only a slight one, as there are no road work projects to speak of in the winter – hence the old saying about the two driving seasons around here: winter and construction.

Liberty Park United Methodist Church – located a block east of the South Perry Street commercial district – has been serving its community continuously since it was built in 1912, but the Liberty Park congregation actually began meeting among the trees at the site in 1905, making it one of the earlier suburban churches in Spokane. The Rev. William S. Turner was instrumental in founding the church at 1526 E. 11th Ave. and was one of its 13 charter members. He spent much of his life savings – $725 – to purchase the land. The church’s final cost was $11,700, with $3,400 raised at the dedication and the $4,000 balance owned by the church extension society.

Karen Buck’s son David Gendron died on St. Patrick’s Day in 1999. He was a bright-eyed young man who entered a room full of strangers and came away with 20 new friends. He carried in his pocket small yellow balls with happy faces on them to give to people who were having a bad day. He loved music and cars, worked two jobs and had taken out a life insurance policy on himself and, concerned at how hard his mother was working, named her as his beneficiary.

The unassuming two-story building at 518 W. Riverside Ave. in downtown Spokane has quite the history. Now the home of Smith Co., a full-service advertising agency (the former WhiteRunkle Associates), it has deep roots in Spokane’s past, though today it has the feel of a New York City ad agency inside. The interior was, in fact, used in a film production in which a funky big-city ad agency was depicted. It became what it is today thanks to business partners Jack White and Bob Runkle, who purchased the building in 2000.

There’s been too much dying lately. Recently – within a few days of each other, actually – two friends of mine have lost adult children, which has given me new perspective on life and relationships. The past few years have been filled with what seems like an inordinate number of deaths of people I care deeply about. The hardest losses were of young children of family and friends, but I have also had to say goodbye to some elderly friends and relatives and also a number of peers, including friends my own age I’ve known since early childhood.

Today is World Rat Day. No really. Oh sure, we know about Earth Day and Arbor Day this month, not to mention the just concluded April Fool’s Day. Those are among the biggies in April, but there are a host of other days and periods of celebration that are not nearly so well known.

Homes are listed on the Spokane Register of Historic Places for two reasons mainly – the significance of the structure or the significance of the person associated with the dwelling. The house at 612 E. 19th Ave., modified from its original Craftsman design, may not be a classic example of remarkable architecture, but its principal occupant certainly puts it on the map of significant places. For more than 60 years, it was the home of Dorothy Darby Smith, the grand dame of theater in Spokane, co-founder of Spokane Civic Theatre – and a woman who knew how to make an entrance and command a room. She lived at the house from 1943 until her death at age 97 in 2007.

By the time you reach a certain age, you either laugh or cry about your foibles and infirmities. Laughing is better. I laugh a lot lately.

The granite and marble Strahorn mausoleum sits just over a little hill in Riverside Memorial Park, not especially striking at first glance. But up close its two beautiful stained glass windows, each containing images of a torch bearing an eternal flame, are clearly works of art and lovely to behold. From the road, they are obscured by the window bars that protect them. Even more remarkable are the three people laid to rest within, one of whom wrote an extensive and definitive tome chronicling pioneer life and traveling in the West, as well as the wonders to be discovered in these new territories. They are Robert Edmund Strahorn (1852-1944); his first wife, Carrie Adell Green Strahorn (1854-1925); and his second wife, Ruby Shannon Garland Strahorn (1883-1936).

The granite and marble Strahorn mausoleum sits just over a little hill in Riverside Memorial Park, not especially striking at first glance. But up close its two beautiful stained glass windows, each containing images of a torch bearing an eternal flame, are clearly works of art and lovely to behold. From the road, they are obscured by the window bars that protect them. Even more remarkable are the three people laid to rest within, one of whom wrote an extensive and definitive tome chronicling pioneer life and traveling in the West, as well as the wonders to be discovered in these new territories. They are Robert Edmund Strahorn (1852-1944); his first wife, Carrie Adell Green Strahorn (1854-1925); and his second wife, Ruby Shannon Garland Strahorn (1883-1936).

This is about good nurses and poultry. Let me explain. I had surgery recently and was hospitalized for a few days. I found in this most recent experience, and in any hospital adventure I’ve ever had, that a timely and healthy recovery is largely about the nursing staff.

At the end of each year a list of words comes forth, words that have come into prominence or have been over-used during the year. At the end of 2012, the phrase that topped most of those lists was fiscal cliff. Although I’m late to the list party, I now submit my own list of words and phrases from the past year that I respectfully request we retire – or, if not that, at least use correctly. First is “basically.”

The Latah Creek Bridge – that grand span over Latah Creek on Sunset Boulevard, connecting Spokane’s downtown area via Browne’s Addition to the West Plains and beyond – celebrates its 100th anniversary this year. The bridge, on the National Register of Historic Places, was completed in July 1913 and joins the Monroe Street Bridge (originally constructed in 1911) as one of the state’s early examples of long-span, fixed-end, open-spandrel concrete arch structures. Its most outstanding architectural feature is its seven Roman arches – two being 150 feet, two at 135 feet, one at 128 feet and two being 54-abutment or approach arches. The arches each contain four arch ribs carrying the surface roadway slab on spandrel columns and arches.

And now it’s time – probably past time – to speak of winter driving. I live just off a steep hill, and every winter we observe fearless folks all invincible and secure in their SUVs come zipping over the top of the hill only to encounter reality on the icy incline before them. What they do is hit the brakes, usually hard, which then leads them to spin and slide and wind up in the ditch, the ditch just in view from my house.

One of just a handful of beer parlors that have remained in continuous operation since the end of Prohibition in 1933, Jack and Dan’s at 1226 N. Hamilton St., may be the most well known in Spokane. It’s known for many reasons, particularly for the notables associated with it, but what its owners take pride in is that this landmark, now on the Spokane Register of Historic Places, truly is a neighborhood bar where everyone knows your name.

Well, it’s finally gotten to the point I’ve got to say something about it. I shouldn’t really because in so doing, I clearly identify myself as the hopeless fuddy duddy I wish I weren’t. But I am what I am, and I can’t stand this thing any longer, so I must waggle a bony finger at that vocal inflection I have until now identified as the annoying little-girl frog voice. Like everyone, I have my druthers and thoughts on the proper order and behavior of things in life.

Winter report from the hen house: All is quiet among the chickens this winter, although we’ll see how our feathered friends fare during these cold months under the care of … gasp … a man! They are, after all, used to gentle female care and an occasional kiss on the beak from their mama Joan.

In the middle of September 1935 a Newport, Wash., marshal was making his nightly rounds. He was mortally wounded by gunfire when he happened upon a burglary at the Newport Creamery He died the next day in a Spokane hospital. His murder, which had been called the nation’s oldest active murder case, was finally solved 54 years later when in 1989 three-term sheriff of Pend Oreille County and former Spokane police Officer Tony Bamonte began a dogged pursuit of the truth.

I am writing these words during the height of the holidays, when families all across America are rejoicing and happy and filled with glad tidings. That may be a bit of an oversentimentalization of this time between Christmas and New Year’s, as there is always sorrow and discomfort and pain somewhere, no matter what the season. But mostly, it’s a happy time. However, this year there is grief so palpable, so raw and so excruciating emanating from Newtown, Conn., that it’s hard to see through to the joy this time of year normally holds.

Standing tall this season over the many people in busy pursuit of those last few gifts for Christmas is one of Spokane’s largest Christmas trees – the several-stories high tree that occupies much of the atrium area of River Park Square in downtown Spokane. People take pictures by it. Children have a visit with Santa in front of it. And the public gazes across and then down upon it as they ride the escalators up to see movies at the AMC theaters in the mall. They’ve been admiring the tree since it was first put in place in 2002.

Oh, lordy, it’s nearly halfway into December already. It feels like I’ve barely digested my Thanksgiving dinner. I know there’s still Halloween candy in one of the cupboards. I have pine needles in the yard needing to be raked. We’re just getting around to taking down the screen door and replacing it with the winter storm door. And hauling out the snow shovel. Aaarrgghh! Winter is moving in too fast.

It was once called “the star attraction of 1914,” but today Spokane’s first public bathhouse stands boarded up and primarily used for storage of Spokane Parks Department lawn mowers and other equipment. The two-story Italian Renaissance-style structure was built in 1914 in what was then known as the Sinto Triangle Park, part of East Mission Park, on land bordered by East Mission Avenue, the Spokane River, the Northern Pacific rail tracks and the larger park to the west. It came about as part of the decision two years earlier by the Spokane Park Board, which proposed a park and playground for the working class area in the Logan-Gonzaga University neighborhood in northeast Spokane.

It still surprises me that so many people in Spokane don’t know how Bing Crosby and Spokane are intertwined. I mean, everybody knows Bing, if for no other reason than for his instantly recognizable voice, especially this time of year when his iconic song, “White Christmas,” is heard everywhere. But we in Spokane should know him better than anyone else because he’s from here – he’s our guy.

It was brought home to me once again how important it is to stay in touch with an older relative – not just because it’s a nice thing to do, but because there is still so much to learn from them. My Aunt Mary is 87. Although she has a bit of a heart condition, she lives on her own, drives wherever she needs to go and reads a lot of books on her e-reader while pedaling five miles a day on her stationary bike. She lives in New York City, and I called her several days after Hurricane Sandy swiped its way across the state.