C’EST LA VIE

I’d like to begin by saying: I love what I do. I am so grateful to be an author and speaker, appreciative of the programmers who invite me, excited to share my work with willing listeners. Ten women in a book club or hundreds in a conference room, it doesn’t matter.

However.

ere are times when if I was also the person assigned to hold the door open for the audience members as they le , I’d want to trip a couple of them.

I o en use the line, “c’est la vie,” by which I mean “such is life,” all the while wishing it wasn’t.

A few events — and there are always a few — just back re for one reason or another, so that I have to pray for the stamina to hang in there when all I am feeling is so pissed o that, at any minute, I fear it will show.

As I write this, I’m thinking that Seattle is not the same city as it was before the pandemic, but I expect this because I’m not the same woman. A lot has happened, even more has followed, and it feels like way too much and not nearly enough.

Either way, my ties to Seattle have only intensi ed.

No matter what draws me downtown, I always take a moment to stop and take in the view of Elliott Bay and give thanks for all Seattle was, is struggling to be again, and for the beautiful nature that surrounds it either way. Here is the city I know so well. Two decades ago, it cast a spell on me that helped build a wonderful — for a writer at least — career. I came looking for footing in a promising new city, never really coming around to the weather, but never happier.

So, I’ve been wondering what it is, exactly, about our present city — our present world — that has brought about in too many of us a neglect of courtesy. Is it the nearly three years of staying at home? e constant, repetitive, low-frequency fear of the 24-hour news cycle?

I don’t know. What I know is that rudeness has become a given lately, no matter where I nd myself. Add to this an increasingly lessthan-patient attitude toward each other as witnessed by a writer who doesn’t look down at her phone when she’s out and about but pays close attention. To everything.

Still, one would think (hope!) that some would be better at decorum, especially those who have had every opportunity to practice it. Take one prestigious downtown club (here’s a clue: Fourth and Marion). A er my last author event there, I thought of someone I haven’t thought of in years. She and I were bartenders together, and we could count on the construction workers and cops to tip well. But the white-collar guys? Not so much. Causing her to whisper in my ear, “ ose with the most give the least.”

Here’s what happened: Twenty members of said Prestigious Club registered for my talk. Five showed up. e programmer was disappointed. I was disappointed. But that’s not the worst of it. Out of the ve, four were eating tacos, three were noticeably intoxicated, two were on time, one bought a book, but only a er I embarrassed her into it. And you know a hometown audience is the hardest, so I didn’t sleep well the night before. (It’s been suggested I give up red wine in the evening, and I will … think about it.)

But the yin yang, dark and light, of being a speaker, of being alive, is that the opposite experience is right around the corner.

Sure enough, later in the week, I was a keynote speaker for an international organization in a convention center in Pennsylvania. Yes, I had to travel by air to get there and not just hump up Madison pulling a carton of books behind me. But, no, those hundreds of listeners were not eating tacos and slurping

Merlot through my talk. ey were … generous, there is no other word for it. Will I try to emulate the generosity I admired in them? De nitely.

And then.

A few days later, my new column came out. And while I’ve never received so many positive emails from readers, a few others didn’t like it one bit. It was one of those columns that literally wrote me, eager to free itself since the reversal of Roe V. Wade. To recap: I call out the evangelists for spending so much money to ensure women cannot have nal say over their reproductive healthcare options.

One comment from a reader really got to me: “I marched the streets for CHOICE in the 1960s, a er going through a hell experience in my early 20’s when access to abortion meant you had to beg a panel of doctors that you would commit suicide if you remained pregnant. My mother always said, ‘Abortions would be a nickel on every street corner if men could get pregnant.’ ”

Others? ey’d like to put an end to me and told me so. e oddest thing, though, is one begins his hateful emails with “Dear Mary Lou” and signs o with his real name. I didn’t want to go to the police. But my husband copied his emails and marched on down to the department. When I wrote for the Northwest Life section of e Seattle Times, I had to get a restraining order. When I began at this paper, I had to get a restraining order. I don’t feel like getting another, but I will if I have to. For now, a er his second email, I had a second glass of wine despite earlier advice not to have a second glass of wine. And I let his words go.

Well, I am trying to let them go.

C’est la vie.

Mary Lou Sanelli is the author of Every Little ing, a collection of essays that was nominated for a Washington State Book Award. Her previous titles include poetry, ction, non- ction and a children’s title, Bella Likes To Try. For more information about her work, visit www.marylousanelli.com.

SURVEY from Page 4 is to identify and remove barriers preventing people from participating in the many wonderful resources that the Arboretum has to o er.” e study is being funded by the Washington State legislature, and the results will be made public. Data collection is expected to be completed by September 2023, and the nal report will be published in November. “ is is a truly unique opportunity to in uence the future of the Arboretum and the programs we provide there. We want to hear from all voices in our community,” University of Washington Botanic Gardens Director Christina Owen said. e Arboretum Foundation, in partnership with UW Botanic Gardens, has contracted with Seva Workshop and Biederman Redevelopment Ventures to conduct the study.

To complete the survey, visit surveymonkey. com/r/arboretum2023. It takes fewer than 10 minutes.

More details about the survey arboretumfoundation.org/ community-survey.

The 230-acre Arboretum is cooperatively managed by Seattle Parks and Recreation and the University of Washington Botanic Gardens, with major support from the Arboretum Foundation. The city owns the land and maintains the roads, trails, lawns, and utilities, while the University owns and curates the plant collections. The Foundation raises important funds to support Arboretum operations and special projects.