Going back to Mark’s mom’s house in Olympia, Washington is just about the closest thing to going back home as we can get. Certainly for Mark, as he lived at that house during his high school years, but in some small way for me as well. When we drive to my parents’ house on the weekends, it’s not to the house or neighborhood I grew up in. There are no childhood relics or memories there, so I suppose in one sense going back to this house with the red door, a place that I have also lived in briefly on 2 separate occasions, is the oldest “home” to go back to.
Oh Olympia, you are a sleepy little town, but you have an impressive Farmer’s Market, a nice waterfront, and our favorite coffee roasters. It’s funny how huge the scene felt back then in the early 90s – the birthplace of Riot Grrrls, the indie record labels, the music and the aftermath of Nirvana. I guess you could say that about many of the indie college towns back then. Of course we didn’t really know it at the time, but is stuff like this still happening in college towns? Or am I that out of touch and talking like an old person?