Time flies when you’re distracted by shiny objects…which is why I consider the raven to be my totem animal and spirit helper. I’m not sure how the raven feels about this, but its guidance has served me well so far, so I’m assuming he’s down with it.

In this context, “so far” refers to the number of Tales of the Magic Skagit stories we’ve published through Meyer Sign’s “Behind the Sign” online platform (www.meyersign/articles). It’s hard to believe, but January 1, 2023 will mark the beginning of our third year of the TMS series. God willin’ and the crick don’t rise, we can look forward to at least as many more — I feel like I’m just warming up. As it is, by the time we get around to once again singing auld lang syne, the number of tales we will have told over the last two years will most likely have surpassed eighty. But who’s counting?

As schmaltzy as it may sound, writing the Tales of the Magic Skagit has been an honor, especially for one so new to the area (my wife and I moved to Mount Vernon nine years ago to be closer to our grandsons, and we got a beautiful place to live as a bonus prize). On the other hand, as we all know from the recorded impressions of previous immigrants, newcomers bring new perspectives that hopefully find a way to harmoniously coexist with those of the folks who came before. In my case, I’m pleased to report that there have been a great many people who have been more than willing to indulge my interest in the past, present, and future of the place I lovingly refer to as the Magic Skagit — or more precisely, as home.

While the audience for our stories has grown over the past two years, the most gratifying part of writing Tales of the Magic Skagit has not been the size of its readership, but the level of our readership’s engagement. Many of our stories have been a catalyst for the sharing of personal connections with their subject matter, adding considerably to their depth and context. In this sense, Tales of the Magic Skagit has served as an exercise in crowd-sourced local history (how do you like us now, Wikipedia?). That level of engagement can only be earned, not bought, and I am humbled by it.

In recognition of the gifts of memory that our readers have bestowed since we began the TMS series, I want to cite some specific examples based on a couple of recent stories, one of which started out as a trivia question on Facebook, and the other one based on a curious little story about the Magic Skagit town of Edison.

Union High School

On October 11, I posted a black & white photo I had recently taken of one of Mount Vernon’s most iconic architectural achievements. Although we know it today as Mount Vernon High School, my question had to do with its previous identity (revealed, as it turns out, by its own facade). The photo and question resulted in more than a dozen comments, among them being this one from follower John Kamb, in response to some good natured urging from another follower, James Malcolm.

John wrote, “The high school was called Union High school in that a number of feeder school districts, rural and urban, joined together to build the school. I’m attaching a page from the 1921 Skagina that somewhat explains the history behind it, including a drawing of the new school as envisioned as well as a photo from the 1922 Skagina of the brand new school as built.”

Follower Amanda Collins further noted that the recently renovated facade pictured in our photo was, “MV/Union High School’s first building, ‘Old Main.’ It is based upon the report the Superintendent issued to the Department of Interior after what is now Mount Vernon High School opened in January of 1922.”

Now, just in case you’re wondering about the “report” that Amanda was referring to in her comment, follower Jim Cameron was good enough to provide a YouTube link to the video, “MV/Union High School: Then Until Now – The Beginning of Old Main.” If you want to really geek out on some Magic Skagit history, you have to click this link. You’ll soon discover that Mount Vernon High School has a proud tradition of being on the cutting edge, as well as a timeless facade.

Welcome to the Peoples’ Republic of Edison, Comrade!

Back on September 21, I indulged in a bit of historical whimsy about a 19th century experiment in socialism just outside the town of Edison. The resulting story reached nearly 5,500 people and generated more than 2,500 post engagements. A surprising number of our TMS followers responded by sharing their familial connections with the place called Equality Colony.

Follower Catherine Ferguson commented, “…my mother-in-law was born in this area of Skagit County. Her in-laws were homesteaders in the Sedro area in 1880, so I’m very interested. Thank you for sharing.”

You’re welcome, Catherine.

Follower Hope Starr appreciated our recognition of the town that continues to hold a special place in her heart. “We lived in Edison from 1995-2007. A great little town, population was 124.????”

Follower Kathy Reim and I had the following exchange, which took us a little more into the political realm than I would typically go as the congenial host of a series that prefers not to stray into culture war territory (if you seek divisive dialogue, you’ll have to doom scroll other social media platforms — we ain’t got nothing to offer you on the Meyer Sign Facebook page). But I trust our followers to appreciate the perspectives shared, regardless of their own points of view. To date, I’ve never had to kick anyone out of the audience for abusive behavior, and I credit the civility of our followers for that. You’re a classy bunch.

Kathy: “My grandparents in Texas were supporters of Eugene Debs. They shared this quietly with me in the early 1950s because I was so interested in politics, but admitted people have chosen not to know the difference with communism and socialism. They believed it was essential that farms remain in the hands of the people — that when corporations controlled farming, our democracy would be at risk. Almost 70 years later, In addition to the weakening of labor unions and a working class power balance, the concerns of that era remain. I respect the efforts and insights of these folks. It dissipated then because people united to right inequities. We might want to pay attention?”

Me: “Kathy Reim, right on. I don’t use this platform for political advocacy, and I wouldn’t inflict my opinions on the gracious audience we’ve developed — but I do think that the hardest part of these discussions is the fact that we tend to ignore the meaning and origins of the concepts we dispute, when quite often our aims and intentions are harmonious. Such is the human condition, eh?”

Kathy: “Yes. I appreciate your helping us know what shoulders we stand upon in the Magic Skagit. Edward R. Murrow had a whole section devoted to his career at the Newseum in D.C. I have always hoped a school would be named for him. Thanks for all the history you provide here.”

Follower Deb Smuda Hoard responded to a reference in our story to a similarly inspired community on Whidbey Island known as Freeland. “We live in Freeland & have been told that our property is part of the old Free Land orchard. We still have apple, plum, pear & crabapples from that time in our yard. Some are barely hanging on, but most still produce fruit. So far I can’t find anyone interested in the apples or other fruit. I took one apple from a very old tree to a cider festival. The apple expert had no idea what kind it was. All I know is it’s pale yellow & tasty. We have what I think are John Downey crabapples, they look like French radishes growing on a tree. Not round. Two huge King apple trees. There are others but may have been planted 20 yrs or so ago.”

In reply to Deb’s comment, follower Teshan Laucirica suggested, “You should really contact the Lost Apple Project on their Facebook page. It would be great to get these apples documented and seeds saved.” It should be noted that Deb has since followed up on the advice. Moments like this make you want to join hands and sing Kumbaya, right?

Another Whidbey Island resident and TMS reader, Tina Gabellein, gave the following shout out to her Freeland peeps: “We live in Freeland. Mutiny bay. This area has a rich history, and an interesting past. Native Americans, pirates jumping ship, settlers. Who lived and died here. My husband’s uncle had a large working farm. His big red barn still stands. Robinson’s Resort was the fishing capital of the Puget Sound, and a hot spot for many years. Biggest salmon ever! And people came from everywhere to fish Mutiny Bay waters. Somewhere out here on the flats of the Mutiny Blues blueberry farm there is said to be a cemetery the early settlers had. We live next door. Probably in our backyard and don’t know it. Lol! Freeland and Mutiny Bay were hopping places back in the day for sure.”

Thanks, Tina. Who knew?

Follower Richard Civille added some fascinating historical detail to the story of Equality Colony “The Washington State Grange had a historical moment in Edison during WWI if memory serves; some details I can’t recall maybe others can? The State Grange Master at the time was an anti-war pacifist and IWW – Industrial Workers of the World (“wobbly”) sympathizer. He gave a rather incendiary speech in Edison against the war effort and I guess got hauled off on sedition charges. The Grange was instrumental in drafting the WA State Constitution in 1879 and successfully advanced a range of public power/utility and farm coop laws.”

As a history junkie, I appreciated the following book recommendation from follower Louise Maughan James: “Several years ago I came across a book called Utopias on Puget Sound, 1885-1915 about Equality, Freeland and other utopian communities in Washington state (https://www.amazon.com/Utopias-1885-1915-Charles-Pierce-LeWarne/dp/0295974443).”

These sorts of comments from our TMS followers are greatly appreciated, and they add so much more dimension to the stories we publish. But I have to admit that one response in particular stands out as a high compliment. Follower Madeleine Pohl simply commented, “I really need to go explore this area!” To which I say, “Mission accomplished,” and add, in the immortal and bittersweet words of Bob Hope to his audiences, “Thanks for the memories.”