The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Like Dylan’s songs says — and the South End believes — when you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.  So naturally we figured we were totally immune to the ravages of the Great Recession.  No jobs, no layoffs….  No hopes, no disappointment….  No woman, no cry…..    Hellfire, we’re practically an ascetic Zen monastery down here, one hand clapping.

And then the Unthinkable happened.  Tyee Store is about to close its doors.  I’ve lived here since 1977 and except for a Christmas or two, Tyee Store was OPEN, rain, shine, hell or high water.  From the Snowdens, who built the original store back in the Dark Ages,  to the Bartletts who made it the economic juggernaut of the South End, to Helen and Don who retired the E-coli dog rotisserie in favor of homemade Texas BBQ sandwiches, the store has been a Permanent Fixture, an icon of the South End Way, a testament that money can still be made the old fashioned way.  No, not hard work.  By selling cigarettes and alcohol and lotto.  Tyee was the prototype for every 7-11, Quicki Mart, Stop N Shop, Kwik Stop convenience store in America.  Their motto —  Fast is Worth More – spread faster than the Bird Flu Pandemic of 2008.

Somewhere in the Heartland, the original Golden Arches still stands, a living monument to American genius in slick advertisement, assembly line cuisine and tasty non-nutritious fare served on a white bread bun in a white Styrofoam take-out container that is easily tossed from another American icon, the very large gas guzzling automobile.

Tyee Store, soon to be shuttered, OPEN neon dark, outhouse next door locked, will stand as mute testament to that era of the South End when we didn’t need no stinking permits, we didn’t need fresh vegetables, we smoked what we wanted when we wanted, we considered Lotto our only necessary 401-K and we all knew, every man woman and child of us, where to go to get it.  If they didn’t have it, we didn’t need it.  Sure it cost a little more.  That was the Tyee Store.

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[podcast]https://www.skeeterdaddle.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/audio-petal-power.mp3[/podcast]audio — petal power

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I remember about 30 years ago first coming up to Skagit Valley and seeing the tulip fields.  Pretty amazing.  Ten years later I drove down Best Road thinking I might catch a view of the fields and maybe lunch in La Conner.  It must’ve been two days later when I finally managed to get off Fir Island.  For some reason I’ve never liked tulips ever since. Sure got to thank the Chamber of Commerce for that.  I’m sure the farmers thank em too.

But I been thinking — how can we turn this public relations machine to our advantage — and I hit on something I think the Skagit Valley Economic Council can sink their sharp little teeth into.  Tulip Fuel.  Bio-diesel with Hi Octane Petal Power. You drive in the Tulip Station and you can choose from candy apple red to lemon drop yellow.  Earth Friendly, Home Grown Flower Power Fuel.  The Valley’s sort of where the 60’s hit the Sound, never really ended.  So Flower Power won’t be real hard to sell.  The Co-op’s next big Expansion will include 10,000 gallon underground tanks and those colorful pumps.  High pollen octane for the BMW crowd.  Bulb mulch for the Volkswagens.

Oh, I suppose the backups will be sort of long, but spread out longer than 2 weeks, nothing like the Tulip Festival.  Plus knowing you’re doing something great for the planet should help.  Something that should’ve been done long ago.  You know, putting a halt to that Tulip Gridlock.

Petal Power   —- think about it!

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[podcast]https://www.skeeterdaddle.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/audio-tulip-co-op.mp3[/podcast]audio –tulip co-op

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Some of you aging hippies out there probably remember the old Skagit Valley Co-op when it used to sit down on the other end of town.  Close to the jail so the sheriff could keep an eye on who came and went, all us young longhairs would come out of the jungle once a year to get provisioned up.  Fill in what we couldn’t grow …. And catch up on the current events here in Mt. Vernon and Gomorrah.

I tell you what, that was a historic place, that old Co-op.  Sure didn’t have room for a fancy Deli or a free range meat section or specialty cheeses from around the world.  Don’t remember much of a Beauty and Cosmetic section.  Mighta been a magazine rack with Mother Earth News, but that’s all we needed really.  Fine Homebuilding Magazine, Naw…. Our shacks were beyond Martha Stewarting…..

Over the past 25 years the Co-op’s grown up along with us.  Its belt kept expanding one notch at a time until finally they just bought the whole damn block.  Sort of downtown Mt. Vernon’s answer to Wal-Mart.

You think back to those humble beginnings, the cramped bins of grain and the teeny-weeny check-out stand, the loyal customers and the always great staff, you can appreciate how far they’ve come.  And maybe us too.  I know I’ve baked about one million loaves of bread ground from their grains.  And even tho my homebrewing has diminished a bit since they got the giant beer and wine section, a lot of fond memories were from those moonshining Co-op days — even if those memories are starting to slip.

Mt. Vernon, I don’t need to tell you, took a different route than its neighbor to the north.  Kept its history.  Kept its soul.  For those of us who still make the hard trek in from the hinterlands, we want to say thanks.  And if there’s any sheriff deputies reading this, I was just kidding about that moonshining……

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[podcast]https://www.skeeterdaddle.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/publess-in-paradise1.mp3[/podcast]publess in paradise

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The South End’s never had a tavern … at least not a legal one.  Never had a bar.  Surely never had a cocktail lounge.  The Diner doesn’t have a liquor license although the Marina and Bait Shop can sell beer or wine To Go, but they don’t allow drinking on the dock.

Well, okay, they allow discreet drinking on the dock.  Meaning, pour your beverage into a coffee mug or drink like the bums do from a bottle in a paper bag.  Legalities are fluid down here, needless to say.  It’s more than a bit ironic that the South End, notoriously bibulous, is today – and always has been – legally dry.  This was, after all, one of the destinations of Prohibition rumrunners bringing in Canadian booze to us thirsty statesiders trying mightily to avoid the DT’s and wicked withdrawal.  Back then we South Enders had our own speakeasy in the form of a bevy of burlesque dancers and their impresario who partied into the dusk of the Great Depression.  Our old shack once boasted the marquis poster of Miss Ruby, our own in-house stripper, one of those party girls who now graces our bedroom with her still risqué outfit.  She lived in our shack with her mom Pearl and then built the house next door that still stands too, although, like ours, not without a lot of help.

So I guess the tradition of private parties, ad hoc speakeasies, impromptu makeshift livingroom lounges still flourishes.  Some might suggest this makes us a refuge of scofflaws, an accusation we accept as no small approbation and certainly nothing new down here.  If we want to drink in legally sanctioned-by-the-state houses of intoxication, we obviously are forced to drive long distances.  Since drinking and driving are rightly frowned upon in modern society, we South Enders have decided our best and obvious recourse is to do em one at a time.

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[podcast]https://www.skeeterdaddle.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/audio-TyeeCo.mp3[/podcast]audio —TyeeCo

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