Author: Wesley Withrow

Track 235

I dig and am continually fascinated by rainbows.  The real ones. I know you can sometimes create the effect with a spray bottle and the right light or a prism tool, but those are momentary and coerced.   I’m talking about the ones only the perfect sky and rain and sun placement provide us.

I’ve become sort of an expert on finding them and knowing when they are coming.  I’m a rainbow hunter armed with eyeballs and wonder. When I see the sunstreaks and angled skywater mixed I get excited. Demanding them even sometimes when I see the conditions are right and cursing the sky if they don’t show up.  We live in a good spot for rainbows.

Each one, or two if lucky are still novel to me.  I haven’t outgrown them. I’ve tried but can never get to the end of one.  Every time I arrive where I’m sure it’s landing it just appears farther off arching down to a new place.  And it’s risky to chase and try touching the rainbow because I might lose it altogether and wish I’d just stayed in the first spot to admire.

Track 234   BOOM-RANG BATTLE RAP

It’s been a long time since Boom-Rang made an appearance. But he’s been lurking.

__________________

you’re a little flea,

flea is tiny already but you’re more little

spital and brittle I toss on that griddle,

no riddle you fiddle/widdle away your time.

No rhyme. 

Everybody in town knows you don’t have much worthwhile to say.   And by town I mean earth. you talk a lot but about a little.

Said I’d griddle you.

Speaking of cooking I cook.

I pack lunches in bunches.

If we were on Iron Chef I’d get bow after bow and you’d get booted off before the first commercial.   Judges are like “wow we’ve never had to do that” but no one feels bad.  Even your neighbors at the potluck wouldn’t eat your trash if it was the last Tupperware left.

I’m always over you

never under you,

you’re in the mud on your back

’cause my lines give that smack

you lack,

somebody get a sack

and sweep you up.

you’re dust.

A miniscule puny insignificant piece of dust.

So dust they used that sick lemon spray to wipe you up and even the spray was like ” daaamn what’d we do to deserve this?” And the counter cheers “yeaaah we don’t have to touch you anymore!”

Always find me winning that dot,

hard fought,

except for the fingers like Ronnie Lott

on spot watching you rot,

a barrel hitch knot

gets you bound and caught,

word onslaught

blast through all you got,

I know it’s a lot.

I’m good luck chuck. You just suck. Suck so bad lollipops at the check out aisle hiding so you don’t buy ’em.

See sticks and stones, linebackers and drones will break bones but words will never hurt me. But they will you.

you’re that board game no one wants to play because the directions are too long and you’re wrapped in plastic.  I’m Scrabble fool.

Learn up  I’m 100% authentic Boom-Rang,

you just fake Vera Wang

CK- CLANG- CLANG   pitiful.

Erased you out my face/space.

Boom-Rang.  Time.

Track 232

Hard to say it all –> say it right –> with the closing of Boundary Bay–> way more than a Brewery and Bistro. Way more than I can articulate.

Boundary’s opening coincided with our move to Bellingham. So for this one person it has always been here. Hard to imagine downtown without it. They’ve been so much to so many and so generous and so attentive and so professional and so classic and so family. And I am saying I’m just one person here outside the city line. Multiply me by a huge number of your choice and then square that and you still won’t have enough to explain the mark left by this one of a kind establishment.

They won awards of course, but my one person story starts and has forever vibed with their unmatched giving in  service/time/money/platform to so many amazing organizations and causes in our community. That’s a long sentence I know but Boundary is long. In particular to me and my family, real-true-generosity to the WDRC and also pretty much every place I’ve ever worked in Whatcom. Story goes on to remember the early years and the music. Jazz Nights and La Push. The music which grew up to be a major part of the scene for those who dig and do live music. Boundary at our wedding and at the funeral, fundraisers and functions. For the funeral they heard of the loss and just gave us the beer charging us only in exchanged hugs/tears. The Jamboree. The paintings on the wall. It’s cribbage tournaments and Mother’s Day brunches. Time I waxed that hustler in backgammon was special. It’s album releases/parades/outside movies/yam enchiladas/Bells/Ski to Sea/bike events and custom pint glasses. It’s Bellingham’s Back Yard and I got to watch my kids play there. Heck, I’ve even slung/served for them at a Bocce Tournament or two and now that I think about it checked IDs at a rodeo with Uncle.

Yes the People. I do mean the People.

There’s so much I’m not articulating quite right and again I’m just one. So let me put it this way–> you know how in Hall of Fame arguments they always ask “could you tell the story of baseball without Player X?” And if the answer is yes then Player X probably doesn’t deserve to get in. Sorry Player X, but for BB the answer is a full NO. You could not tell the story of Bellingham, or me for that matter without saying Boundary Bay Brewery and Bistro. Thank you Place. Thank you People.