The Apostrophe Blog
Been on a bit of a road trip involving ferries, Electrify America charging stations, and quirky museums of local interest and then some. Navigating the two-lanes through the Olympic Peninsula rain forests, the Whidbey Island estuaries and driftwood bird sanctuaries, and now, tonight, the fog-bound Washington coast where Grays Harbor meets the Pacific Ocean and flocks of pelicans are careening overhead. The cars downtown in this coastal marina outpost have to have their headlights on now—at just after 6 p.m.—in order to see and be seen. Ditto the boats coming in from a day of deep-ocean fishing.
It is always interesting to spend time on an edge of a world. Where the tsunami warnings and siren towers remind you that, in truth, potential disaster is always at hand. Where the mightiness of the ocean and the many challenges and hardships that can accompany a life lived here in its presence are nothing to disrespect. Which is why, earlier today, when we stumbled on the (allegedly) New Urbanist planned community of Seabrook, Washington as we headed south from Moclips where we spent last night, well, everything felt shaken and weirdly thrown off guard. What is this sprouting of faux-old-timey houses with an allegedly walkable downtown doing on a steep cliff above the Pacific Ocean complete with an indoor arcade and a pickleball court? What are these Disney meets dystopia meets Stepford meets Hollywood movie set dwellings doing on a bluff just miles from the very, very funky town of Moclips? Are these real people walking these manicured, tidy streets or are they extras on a film set? Aliens set down from another planet? AI-generated bots and droids? And how, possibly, can the quirky Museum of the North Beach survive its temporary relocation to this faux town which seems, in essence, to be mostly vacation rentals once you peel away the marketing B.S. and the faux-historical veneer? In my opinion, this is a place where there was no there there, in spite of its advertised seaside yoga classes, wine tastings, wellness classes, mid-winter and spring-break festivals, holiday celebrations, and outdoor concert series in the summer along with ongoing concierge services, airport shuttles from Sea-Tac, and maintenance safety—whatever the hell that is!
I took the above photo when we were cruising through the streets of Seabrook earlier today—every street had a universally banal and clichéd name. It is of a razor-clam strainer on the front porch of the historic Dorothy Anderson cabin that seems, quite frankly, to be the only authentic object within the unincorporated town confines of the weirdness that is Seabrook, a community supposedly inspired by Seaside, Florida. (Although its Wikipedia page compares it to Celebration, Florida?) The museum that is currently inside those tiny cabin walls was closed today so we did not get to visit. Instead we made a few loops through the phony town (with its perfect streets with its vacation homes all with cutesy names) and marveled at the strangeness, wondering who in their right mind would want to holiday let alone buy a house here?
Seabrook, Washington. You can look it up. I am not even going to dignify its weirdness with a hyperlink. That said, I truly do wonder what kind of people are drawn to spend any time there at all…
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
- Fog and Pelicans and the Central Coast of the Olympic Peninsula of Washington State… - September 5, 2025
- Acceptance News: American Writers Review - September 3, 2025
- Abyssinian gladiolus in late summer bloom… - September 2, 2025
