Front Porch: Park visits make a path to fond memories

Spending too much time journeying along memory lane can steal time from living a good life in the here and now, but a short visit down that road can feel like a warm hug. I recently had that experience.

It came over the Memorial Day weekend, when our son and son-in-law came to Spokane for a visit with the old folks. One day was spent largely at Riverfront Park and the other at the Bowl and Pitcher area of Riverside State Park.

Our son Sam did all there was to do at the region’s parks when he was growing up, so when he and Ryan rode the gondolas as grown men and walked through Riverfront Park, Sam could share so many memories with him, and at dinner at Anthony’s that evening, we all rather bombarded Ryan with park memories as we overlooked the Pavilion and Spokane River.

So many other memories of Sam’s childhood rolled out, and fun stories that Ryan clearly was enjoying, especially the embarrassing ones that it’s a parent’s duty to tell the newer members of the family.

Since Sam was yet to be born when Expo ’74 took place, we could tell Ryan about how a slummy area of downtown Spokane was transformed into the site of a world’s fair, now celebrating its 50th anniversary. Sam learned a lot about it, too, and Bruce and I got to remember how we were back then, and our own fond memories of enjoying the park with our sons in the years that followed the fair.

The four of us went to Riverside State Park the next day. At first, the two guys were going to go by themselves because, while I walk reasonably well now, I’m not good on uneven ground, as I’m still improving from knee replacement surgery.

But I was full of mommy memories from our conversation at the restaurant the night before, and feeling pretty sturdy, so we decided to make it a foursome. After all, I hadn’t been to Riverside State Park in decades, and help was available if I needed it.

I did have a worry about parking and how long a hike it might be and how we were going to get a Discover Pass for parking on a holiday.

When we pulled up to the entry booth by the Bowl and Pitcher, the attendant noticed my temporary handicap placard on my car’s rearview mirror and said parking was free for us. I had no idea! He told us where the handicap parking spaces were located and that perhaps one was open. Sure enough, right by the path down to the suspension bridge, there was our spot.

I used two walking poles, just to be extra safe, and off we went – down the path, across the bridge and up what seemed like a million steps on the other side. We took some pictures and reversed course. I found a bench, because my legs were pretty much done for the moment. The guys went off on their own for a bit of hiking, and I enjoyed the view of the river, the families and the family dogs who were having a good time all around me.

We were able to tell Ryan a lot about the park and fun times had there. One story was about Sam’s older brother, who once went into a calm eddy below the bridge with our family dog, who definitely did not like swimming. The dog was trying to paddle over to where Carl was, in a fashion of a thrashing dying animal. An eagle (although it may have been a hawk) swooped down and made an effort to snag our dog.

We’re not quite sure if the bird aborted its mission because it realized the “prey” was too large (Seltice was a Viszla Lab mix) or because Carl jumped up and down waving his arms.

It was so much fun to take our Texas-born-and-raised son-in-law to these places of Sam’s growing up years and experiencing them through his eyes.

From his home in Seattle, Sam told me later how meaningful it was for them – the places we went, to be sure, but even more so, the conversation about what those places meant in his childhood and the stories that arose from being there once again. It kind of made it all new to us again.

It was a lovely journey into the past and a reminder of the great stuff we have to see and do in this neck of the woods, things that don’t have to remain in the past. While I can’t go out with the zip of my youth, I can go more than I have been.

A trip down memory road has provided a much-welcome warm hug, as such journeys are meant to do, but it’s also been a kick in the butt – reminding me that the road is still open, and new memories are still there to be made.