My first impression of Ellensburg was that, as a place, it amounts to little more than a truck stop between destinations. Never in my wildest dreams would I have considered it a destination in and of itself. And yet, as the mysterious forces of the universe would have it, I find myself living in this truck stop town trying to discover what lessons this form of existence has to teach me. Before moving to Ellensburg I had lived in Roslyn for about three months, and had found the experience rather pleasing. Roslyn is a much smaller town that Ellensburg, and yet, I did not feel confined by it. Perhaps because it was so small, the people there took great interest in me as a newcomer, and most were overtly friendly. Sitting on barstools, my stories were devoured by people who were not afraid to show their enthusiasm and ask lots of questions. The most common was why I had come to Roslyn.
To be honest, I was never certain I knew the true answer to that question, so I rattled off some vague nonsense about escaping the high pace and traffic of the city to embrace a quieter existence. I am not saying that there is no truth to that, just that it is not the whole truth. The reason for my departure from Seattle would depend upon the mood I was in when asked about it. There were too many reasons to individually list, and at the same time, there was really no reason at all. The question continued to puzzle me until I moved to Ellensburg and it changed shape. I stopped asking myself why I had moved to Roslyn, and started asking why I had left the city I had called home for the last ten years.
I repeated the question so often in my head, re-living the last months of my life in Seattle that I made myself sick. I needed relief from my isolation. I needed to find a few little places in Ellensburg where I could feel comfortable. The public library quickly became the first place where I felt some level of comfort. The librarians were friendly and warm. They exuded an air of openness and passion for quenching the intellectual thirsts of Ellensburg's public. Receiving my library card was to me, the first step toward grasping at new citizenship in a place I still couldn't comprehend living in. Even worse to me than the idea of living in Ellensburg was that at that time I was still commuting to Cle Elum each day, driving thirty miles each way to work the same taco job I'd had in Seattle nearly ten years ago.
As I slapped refried beans onto tortillas, and later tried to peal the same crusted beans from metal pans, I couldn't help wondering how all my education and experience had led me to this miserable existence. Perhaps I should not have trusted that whim to throw myself into the wind…. just look where that wind blew me! I would try to think of the dishwashing as an opportunity to meditate, and see the experience as a lesson in humility. Most of the time I was able to put it all into perspective, but then my nineteen year old boss would yell "when you finish the dishes take out the trash" and return to a sit at a table with her friends to gossip and eat. I took deep breaths and reminded myself that it was only temporary.
After work I would come "home" to a town I was still terribly unfamiliar with. Due to poverty, there was little I could do to try and enjoy my new home, so instead I put my mind to finding a job. Ellensburg may be too large to have the overt friendliness of Roslyn, but at least it had more opportunities for work. I knew that at the very least I would not be forced to work in food service again and I wouldn't have to commute. On my first day off since the move, I put on the cleanest clothes I could dig out of the mess of our closet and set out to look for work. I stopped at the courthouse to see if there were any job postings there, then walked across the street to the bank. The clerk at the bank told me that I could apply online, but I knew I didn't have any money to sit in a wi-fi café and use the Internet. I would simply press on and look for places where I only needed to fill out an application. At that moment I looked up and saw a sign that said, "work source." I walked in, filled out a form, and was allowed to use their computer to print my resume. I pulled it up threw an email and printed copies on resume paper. One of those resumes ultimately succeeded in landing me a job, though I think at least some of the credit belongs to the experiences listed, and not just the fancy paper.
The woman at Work Source seemed very interested in helping me, and wanted to know the details of my situation so she could be of more assistance. I told her that I had this was my first day in Ellensburg. At some point in the conversation I mentioned I was hungry. The truth was, that it was the end of the month and I'd used up all my food stamps. She could see by the desperation I must have been exuding that I was not exaggerating. She called the local food bank and told them she was sending me over. I walked over to the Methodist church across from the library and was given a box of food consisting mainly of canned food and industrial generic bulk items. The box was incredibly heavy, and I had to carry it fifteen blocks to get it home.
My injured back agonized for the first ten blocks. I staggered down the street setting the heavy burden down every twenty feet to momentarily relieve the burning ache. As I approached the corner of University and Water, a woman in an SUV noticed me struggling and offered me a ride home. I was truly grateful for her kindness. She pulled up to our house just as Roy was getting home from work. He gave me a strange look that I knew meant he was upset that I had "hitch-hiked" again. I brought my bounty inside to show him and we began to concoct that night's dinner from its contents. It would be the first food I'd had in almost two days.
Catty-corner from the food bank I had seen a sign for a radio station in the doorway of business complex. I thought it would be strange to walk in with a box of food and ask for a job, so I decided I'd come back with one of the fancy resumes I'd just printed on my next day off. When I did, found the owner (Jack) there alone spray painting file cabinets inside. He was impressed with my experience, but I will not deny for a moment that part of his interest also seemed to be in the physical package that experience came in. It didn't bother me. His flirty nature instantly revealed his humanity to me, and I felt very comfortable in his presence.
After hours of conversation he asked me if I really wanted to work there, and I replied by saying "no, I just came in here to huff paint." He smiled and asked me to come back in two days to meet with him and the stations two employees to pitch my ideas. I was working there the following week. The pay was little more than I had made slinging burritos, and I was working less than 20 hours per week. I had been so excited for this job, that I became very depressed when I realized it would not improve my financial situation at all. I'd decided to take a second job one day a week at the local cable station in Roslyn. I'd have enough to get by, but nothing left over to pay off bills.
Before we had made our move from Roslyn, I had sent my resume to the general manger of the college radio station KCWU. When I visited the station an employee told me that most positions were volunteer and were reserved for students. I would not be a student till fall, so I didn't expect anything to come of it. Shortly after beginning my work with KQBE, the manager of KCWU (Chris) called me for an interview. We had spoken briefly before, and he had mentioned that he was taking a leave of absence to do relief work in New Orleans. I came in and was interviewed with intensity. When it was over, they asked if I could give them ten minutes and come back. I thought it must be a good sign. When I came back, they offered me the job of Interim Station Manager. I was ecstatic.
The next day I went in to KQBE at 8am to co-host the tail end of the morning show with Tom. During a long set of music, Jack came into the studio and looked at me strangely. "Are you awake?" He said. I asked him if he'd be around for a while because I needed to talk to him. "You're not leaving already are you?" I told him about the job offer I had received the previous day, and how I couldn't refuse because it was more money than I had ever made, and would look great on my resume. He understood, but being a catholic was obliged to give me a guilt trip. "Jillian, you are bringing up all my abandonment issues." The next day he told me that he'd love to have me back full time when Chris returned from his adventure. Before I left KQBE, I managed to network with two local high schools to create a partnership with the station giving kids in the area an opportunity to create public service announcements and youth events calendars to share with the whole community.
That Sunday, Roy treated me to breakfast at a dennyesque restaurant called Perkins. I ordered strawberry waffles with loads of whipped cream and a side of eggs sunny side up. The waffles were fantastic, but I couldn't eat the eggs because the whites were not cooked and had the consistency of mucus. During the course of our meal, I decided that I wanted to go to the truck stop next door and study the cultural objects I found within it. I readied my notebook, while Roy winced at the idea of being seen with me while I walked around the mart taking notes. He worried that somebody might arrest me, but nobody seemed to notice. Perhaps the employees thought I was a secret shopper.
The short list of what I found inside the truck stop goes something like this:
o Self extinguishing ashtrays
o Maps and bulbs
o Hot dogs
o Tire thumpers (resembling small baseball bats)
o Pin ball machines
o DVD's, CD's, and audio book rentals
o Diesel Treat fuel conditioner
o Portable 12 volt everything
o Glass figurines of unicorns, kittens, and American flag clad electric guitars
o Velvet coloring folders (to keep the kids busy on road-trips)
o Bendable novelty animals with hearts (for Valentines day)
o US Army postcards
o Travel sized everything
o And best of all…the "Howdy From Nowhere" Ellensburg souvenir snow globe.
