East the Mountains

Today I'm in Yakima for our VFW State Convention.

When I was growing up I would sometimes hear the older folks talking about, "Going east the mountains," or, "When I was east the mountains." The "of" was left out, probably from repeated usage and mutual understanding, and, yes, verbal laziness.

To the consternation of English teachers everywhere, speakers (more than writers) of any language make changes, invent new words, delete unnecessary words and change meanings as they see fit. I don't notice it so much with English except when I hear young people conversing (That's English?). If you live with a language the changes seem to occur naturally and are little noticed, except by those pesky English teachers. Well, I guess that's the definition of a "living" language.

But, as an old friend would say, "I digress." Back to Yakima and being east the mountains where life is slower, fruits are fresher and people are friendlier than in the big city.

Yesterday on the drive over the pass (Snoqualmie) on I-90 the scenery changes dramatically. On the west side trees and low vegetation grow in profusion wherever there's space. On this side of the mountains things are different. Our westside fir forest with heavy underbrush gives way to pine forest with trees spaced out according to the water supply. Then comes the grasslands, then the sagebrush and other arid country bushes and sparse grass. Although this time of year the hills are shaded in greens thanks to the springtime rains.

As I turned off I-90 and drove up I-82 over Manastash Pass on the way to Yakima I noted that even the rocks are different. On the west side highway cuts show mostly sedimentary rocks with their distinct layers whereas on this side the cuts reveal igneous rock from the volcanic activity that has shaped the countryside over the eons.

Last night I walked to the center of the old town. Temperature was in the mid-seventies so it was pleasant with a little breeze. Looking for someplace inviting for dinner I circled a couple blocks and ended up in the Second Street Grill. I've eaten there before so knew it to have good food. Last night I had steamed clams and a mini Greek pizza. A glass of local pinot gris went with the clams and a nice zin complimented the pizza.

Since I didn't have a dinner companion I contemplated the wonders of modern capitalism. Once upon a time I would have been leery of eating clams in Yakima but now clams make the trip from Hood Canal to Yakima, or even to the center of our country in a day or two using refrigerated transport. Those clams were probably just as fresh as any you would find in Seattle.

The Greek pizza had olive oil from Italy or Spain, sun-dried tomatoes from Mexico, kalamata olives from Greece, artichoke hearts from California, cheeses from who knows where, etc. All those things delivered to my table at a very reasonable price because of the wonders of supply and demand and modern transportation. Amazing, when you think of all the ways my order (and thousands of others) triggered the restaurant to order the goods, the wholesalers to deliver them, the shippers to bring them in and even the farmers to grow them. The "invisible hand" as Adam Smith described it.

When I travel I miss my little dog, Kuro, who keeps me company and gives me good counsel when I'm home. Hmmm, I wonder if I can communicate with him telepathically?