Washington Voices

Usually when you come across a geologic or historic marker along a highway, there’s something actually to see there – a field where a battle took place, a mountain peak in the distance, a structure of historic note. But where Trent Avenue becomes Washington Highway 290 and moves 100 yards or so over the border, becoming Idaho Highway 53, there is a marker erected by the Idaho Transportation Department, right behind which is a little gully paralleling some railroad tracks. Logic would indicate the sign had something to do with trains or railroading.

Skip Partridge didn’t say much. He couldn’t. A series of strokes had left him with aphasia, and finding the right words became an agonizing process, fraught with frustration. However, he didn’t let his disability silence him. Instead, with the help of his two Golden Retrievers, he found a new way to communicate. His canine friends, Dagwood and Darby, were certified service animals, and every month Partridge and his dogs made their rounds. They visited children at Shriners Hospital, patients at Cancer Care Northwest and hospice patients and their families.

When 16-year-old Tasha Kelly-Schafnitz heard her friend’s mom had breast cancer, she felt bad. When she heard that a car wash benefit to help with medical expenses raised less than $10, she felt worse. Then she decided to do something. Kelly-Schafnitz, a student in the Veterinary Assisting program at the Spokane Vocational Skills Center, enjoys both animals and woodworking. She’s combined her two passions by crafting 3-D puzzles in animal shapes out of alder, maple, pine and oak. Now, she’s selling her intricate puzzles and donating the proceeds to help her friend’s mom.

About a year ago, a couple of teenagers were listening to music. They began jotting down words they heard. “Shrieks” was a good word, so was “impaled” and Shrieks of the Impaled was born. True to its name, the death metal band is loud, fast and brutal, definitely not mainstream, and often misunderstood. The band members are all students at University High School where they are all enrolled in music theory. They practice in drummer Ben Hall’s basement in Spokane Valley. “Our message is creativity. There shouldn’t be boundaries,” Hall, 16, explained, “Our songs are about brutal stuff, the stuff found in movies and on the news where they show the blood and gore but bleep out profanities. We never cuss in our songs.”

The Pioneer Victory House, 925 W. Broadway Ave., opened its doors a year ago to homeless veterans. Residents held a lunch recently to celebrate, honoring the volunteers and residents who have moved into their own homes. John Livermore was an Air Force sergeant, a carpenter for 25 years and a truck driver for 12 years before he was laid off. He went through his savings, had to sell his car and his motor home. On Oct. 1, 2008, he entered the Union Gospel Mission with $50 in his pocket and a suitcase.

About a year ago, a couple of teenagers were listening to music. They began jotting down words they heard. “Shrieks” was a good word, so was “impaled” and Shrieks of the Impaled was born. True to its name, the death metal band is loud, fast, and brutal, definitely not mainstream, and often misunderstood. The band members are all students at University High School where they are all enrolled in music theory. They practice in drummer Ben Hall’s basement in Spokane Valley. “Our message is creativity. There shouldn’t be boundaries,” Hall, 16, explained, “Our songs are about brutal stuff, the stuff found in movies and on the news where they show the blood and gore but bleep out profanities. We never cuss in our songs.”