Love of the craft brings them together
It’s a nondescript room, approximately 30 feet by 50 feet with two doors opening into it from the main basement area, and one opening from another classroom. Coming in from outdoors and going through the folding door into this room, one would not have an inclination to be impressed with it, or even be pleased to think of spending time there.
No windows let in light. The floor slopes at a slowly increasing angle toward the north end, and is covered with a carpet that saw better days long ago. Flickering old-fashioned fluorescent ceiling lights reveal a piano shoved into one corner with a couch beside it. The other furnishings are a cluttered assortment of tables, chairs, chalkboard and makeshift cupboards. There is one corner of the room that we call the Bermuda Triangle because the microphones put out only static in that area.
A newcomer might think, “What a dreary place this is.” But come 9 a.m. on a Tuesday, the room in the basement of the Spokane Valley Senior Center on East Mission Avenue begins to come alive. Jane and Joy arrive and set up long tables into a rectangle, placing chairs around them for us to sit on. The men in the pool room just outside have filled the giant coffee pot and the aroma of coffee perking tantalizes us as we drift in.
Early arrivals to class get settled and chat while waiting for the others to arrive. Like a herd of cows, we each seem to have a particular spot that is “ours” and we rarely stray far from it. When Virginia White, our moderator, arrives there is a feeling of anticipation as we wonder what new ideas she will have for us this week. And also what assignment she has chosen to tickle our brains and memories.
Each of the 20-plus members of this seniors writing workshop is a unique individual, and we come from all levels of income and varied backgrounds. What draws us together into this tightly knit little group is our shared love of writing and books. During the past couple of years we’ve extended our time together by going for lunch after class at different restaurants, with everyone invited to come along whenever convenient. In this way, we’ve gotten to know more about one another and have had some good discussions.
The rules of the group are few: Stay away from politics and religion, unless they are pertinent to the story; no foul language; and no bodice-ripping romances. Perhaps most important is the unspoken agreement that what is said and what goes on in this room remains in this room. Everyone is free to divulge his or her innermost thoughts without fear that they will be broadcast.
We’ve shared our sad, funny and uplifting memories, as well as events that are happening in our lives as we go along. Newly widowed or divorced persons have joined and have been welcomed and comforted along their way toward finding a new purpose in life. Illnesses strike and we help one another overcome or learn to deal with them. Classmates have died and we’ve mourned them as we face our own mortality. Many of us have lost pets that were cherished members of our families and we’ve shared stories of them and tears over their loss. Past members of the class who are no longer able to attend, for whatever reasons, are not forgotten … but are checked on now and then by friends who care about them and remember times shared.
This room will never make the pages of Architectural Designs or the 10 best classrooms in the state of Washington, but on Tuesday mornings it feels like my second home, and it is brimming with warmth and ambiance. I like this old place that threatens to collapse into the landfill underneath it, and I’m not looking forward to moving to a sterile new building. Still, I’m confident we will fill the new room with the electricity of new ideas and old memories brought to life. After all, it is the people who make the place.