Category: Allen Point

Allen Point: Shooting to Kill

It wasn’t a pretty death. But it seldom is. Kenton lived just up the road from where we moved to Moorelands. We faced Hale’s Passage, and Kenton lived on Horsehead Bay. It was a...

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Allen Point: Tree Topper

Allen Point: Tree Topper

Moving to Allen Point was, for a five year-old boy, like moving into Christopher Robin’s Hundred Acre Wood or onto the island of the Swiss Family Robinson. “The Point,” as we called it, was...

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Family Sacrifice: Shamu

Back in the day, pods of up to twenty orcas followed the fish runs deep into Puget Sound every year and made their way up Henderson Bay to Minter Creek. We used to watch...

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Allen Point: Counting Down the Sun

Mrs. Yates was a formidable woman. Agnes May Allen Yates, our landlord,  cane in one hand, and a continuously lit cigarette in the other, ruled over the middle section of her father’s domain. She...

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Allen Point: Casting the Last Stone

Tom’s special delight was to throw stones at you so that you couldn’t come near the bus stop. And, as I said, he could throw a very long way. Sometimes you had to stand all the way back where the drive came up. When the bus came, you had to wait until Tom got on the bus and then race out of hiding to try and catch it before it took off. Tom would look out the back window and laugh at you running to get on, or just sit down with a smirk and wait for you. It was ironic, having to run to get picked on again. He got a big kick out of it.

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