Behind the Sign

“Ebey’s Landing National Historical Reserve (EBLA) consists of 17,400 acres of prairies, forest, and seashore on Whidbey Island. The Reserve sits at a geographical nexus […]

This is a Mothers’ Day story. More specifically, it’s the story of two Skagit Valley mothers, both of whom are no longer with us, but each of whom left amazing legacies in the wake of their very different lives. Both were born and raised in the Magic Skagit, and each were trailblazers in their respective spheres of influence. This is the story of Susan Schuh and Imogene Bowen, and of all the many thousands of moms in the Skagit Valley that one might choose to commemorate on Mothers’ Day, their stories struck me as particularly emblematic of our community — and in my efforts to pay tribute to them, I celebrate the loving and creative power of womanhood that is at the core of what I think all of us most love, respect, and remember about our mothers.

Every time I gaze upon a tulip, not to mention entire fields of them stretching to a horizon framed by the purple mountains majesty of the Cascades, it kind of takes my breath away. Having confessed this, you can appreciate why I look forward to the prospect of continuing to view tulips even as we approach Mother’s Day, 2023 — hopefully, with less tulip traffic, but at least with warmer temperatures than when the annual Tulip Festival began in what turned out to be the fourth month of winter in the Magic Skagit. To celebrate the floral event that makes the Skagit Valley an international destination venue each spring, I thought I’d go back to some tulip themed “Tales of the Magic Skagit” episodes from the past — a literary tip-toe through the tulips, if you will.

Sedro-Woolley and its residents have known their fair share of calamities, both natural and manmade. But May 15, 1922 will be remembered as the day that Tusko the elephant went on a rampage that not even 16 bullets from a 38 special could end.

As winter slowly wanes, I thought a brief retrospective on the stories we did during the previous year (and there were a lot of them) was in order — particularly as I look ahead to the stories we’d like to bring you in the year before us. Consider this, therefore, your “Tales of the Magic Skagit Highlight Reel” for 2022 as I comb the Meyer Sign vault for the episodes that our esteemed TMS audience most enjoyed. But as I do, I want to share not only what those stories were, but also their significance to the teller (yours truly) in terms of my evolving relationship with this place I lovingly refer to as the “Magic Skagit.”

Publishing a new glossy print periodical is something of a leap of faith in the best of times, but most especially so when the printed page so often yields to "digital devices." Which is why seeing a new Skagit Valley print publication fills me with pleasure -- especially when the inaugural issue cover story is about the gentleman I like to think of as "Mr. Skagit Valley." I am speaking of course, of Mr. Don Wick.

Published in 1906, the History of Skagit and Snohomish Counties, Washington is a leather bound time capsule that yields profiles of life in the Skagit Valley at the turn of the 20th century -- a time when many of the people whose lives are featured were still alive. Bruce McCormick, the book's owner and grandson of one of its pioneer subject, shares his family heirloom with our Tales of the Magic Skagit readers, in the expectation of more stories to come.

As we head into the third year of our Tales of the Magic Skagit series, we want to pause and express our appreciation for all that our readers have brought to the table through their own recollections and knowledge. A couple of recent stories are a great example of just what "crowd sourced history" can bring to our understanding of who we are as Skagitonians.

This is the final installment of our four-part series, Swedebs Park Tells the Swinomish Journey. As the descendent of European immigrants who first ventured west of the Rockies in the mid-twentieth century, I have approached this series not so much with trepidation as with a deep respect for the people whose story has always been theirs to share, and who have been gracious enough to do so through venues such as Swedebs Park and the Hibulb Cultural Center. Blessed are the bridge builders.

It was the fundamental relationship with the land more than trade goods and missionaries that defined the growing cultural divide between the First People and the New People over the ensuing decades following first contact. As one of the Swedebs Park displays states, with considerable restraint, “Our way was to live with the land and care for it, but not to ‘work it’ the way traders, missionaries, and the white government thought we should. With the coming of white men, our ancient relationship to land and water changed abruptly. The newcomers curtailed our traditional pursuits — our fishing, hunting, and gathering.”

How the Swimomish came to be among the First People of the Skagit Valley is a story that goes back long before recorded history — but it is one that has been handed down through its telling to generation after generation. It is a story that begins with what those of us New People might recognize as a Noah figure — which, of course, means that a flood is also involved.

Travel across the Rainbow Bridge to the western banks of the Swinomish Slough and look toward Komo Kulshan (aka, Mount Baker). Now, close your eyes and stretch your imagination back more than two centuries ago. The year is 1790, and you are in the village of Txiwúc.