Mon, 11 December 2006
My town's name is
Battersea, roughly 39 miles south of Seattle, and, strangely, with a
population the size of Tacoma's my neighbor 2 miles to the south.
Oddly, we show up on no maps, even though we are the sixth largest
seaport in the contiguous U.S. We are an hermetically sealed,
sometimes racist, always hard working, hardscrabble community,
pretending, occasionally to be hip, always failing at that, with nary
much in the way of culture. We were poised to be the largest city in
the Northwest, until the Great Northern Railway blasted its way through
Stevens Pass, in the Cascade Mountains north of Seattle, back in the
late 19th century. Put us almost out of business, and definitely out
of the way. Not irrelevant. Just hardworking and sleepy at the same
time.
Category:Battersea Confidential
-- posted at: 11:00am PDT
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Mon, 11 December 2006
Every week I, Gerard Armbruster, ask you to take a wrong turn with me off life's interstate, and discover the straight story about the bend in the road, where nestle the small towns with big characters, to tug on the common thread that unravels the hand-me-down sweater of our national zeitgeist, and extrudes the truth of our lives.
Category:Armbruster's Musings
-- posted at: 10:57am PDT
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Sun, 10 December 2006
To contact Gerard Armbruster or Stetson Tudd, or for behind-the-scenes information: ExtrudingAmerica@gmail.com
Category:Contact Info
-- posted at: 4:19pm PDT
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