ALL ABOARD: A mid-week summary of weekend observations

One of the many joys of living on Whidbey is being able to work on Whidbey.

I read once that life was made for the living, and that making a life is more important than making a living.

Read that last sentence real fast three times to see if it makes any sense.

Maybe making sense of life is the sense of living.

Like I was saying, before interrupting myself, working on Whidbey is the best.

My commutes sometimes go as far as Coupeville for fun, such as the Penn Cove Water Festival in May or the WAIF Spring Auction at the Crockett Barn.

Occasionally, I’ll get down to Clinton to the Clinton Progressive Hall to DJ a wedding.

Last weekend I was really pushing, driving daily round trips of as much as eight miles from Freeland to the Greenbank Farm and back.

Who cares what time your commute takes or what gas costs when you drive 38 miles a week to go to work?

My morning commute to my studio is barely three miles.

That’s one left turn and two rights.

One traffic signal.

No stop signs.

Even if I miss a turn, which is possible while trying to adjust my cruise control, I’m there in less than eight minutes.

Sometimes I have to slow down for deer, but mostly I slow down for the people walking in the middle of the road.

Most of the middle-of-the-road people are smiling.

They wave.

They nod.

Some have dogs.

Some ride bikes or do power walks in groups.

In all these years of commuting, I have never seen anyone litter or spit.

By the time I get to work, I feel so at peace after my commute that I turn on one of the Seattle radio traffic reports so I can feel not so guilty about not feeling frenetic.

Frenetic is my nature.

Frenetic is my gene pool.

Frenetic is the action of my soul.

So last Sunday’s unexpected moisture-filled downpour at the Loganberry Festival was perfect to feed my frenzy.

Who needs curly fries and mini donuts?

Volunteers love frenzy. Entertainers love frenzy. Dogs love frenzy.

Seeing the mist of the rain land on the keys of Danny Ward’s piano guy was my cue to alert teamster/stage hand Paul Bob and volunteer volunteers like Freeland Post Office’s Mary and Trinity Lutheran sax legend Charlie and Greenbank Farm Management Group’s Queen of Recycyling Kathy Habel, who collectively improvised expeditiously to protect the amplified instruments by creating plastic barricades for the side walls of the stage.

I’ve not seen that many smiles on wet faces since super volunteer Sally Berry unplugged rain drains on the midway of the fair while six guys stood around eating wet corn dogs.

For sure, you betcha, working on Whidbey as a living is more than a life.

It’s a giant fishbowl of fun frenzy, with more incredible folks swimming around together having a good time than life should allow.

Thank God life does.