Our Story (Part 1)

August 1995

New York was eating me alive. Living fast and playing hard was breaking me down emotionally, physically and spiritually. New York, the city that never sleeps. Where the best of the best come to give it a go. Most of us ended up waiting tables. After three years of attempting a professional acting career in the Big Apple I hit the wall.

My sister was living on an island in Washington State and was going to get married. I didn't have the money to get out there. Mom was convinced I was gonna die in NY NY. She was probably right. She told me she was flying me out for the wedding. I could stay at the resort she and Ish owned.(Ish and mom had been together sense I was 17) Now when I say resort I mean in the very rustic, earthy, hippy style.

I don't remember how I got the ticket for the plane. I don't remember how I got to the airport. I don't remember my last look at Manhatten Island. All I know is that I got to Washington. That the ferry ride from the main land to the island was long. And that those island were the greenest place I had seen in a long time. (Outside of Central Park which is locked in the middle of the concrete jungle) Those islands were beautiful.I felt myself relax as I soaked in the peace of not being in the big city.

No worries or responsibilitys.There were only three things I wanted. To see my new nephew who had been born in May. To forget about all of the junk I'd been dealing with in NY, and to find some people who liked to smoke out. This looked like the right place. Rainbow and rustic. Everything I needed.

Even the resort cafe was perfect. Wooden structure over looking the blue water bay. Wood burning stove for heat. Tables covered with butcher paper and crayons for drawing. Plus good hearty food. That's right where I was, sitting having dinner, looking really slick in my white button down shirt and khaki pant when she walked in...