Month: April 2026

EARTH DAY: Is That My Bus Pulling Away?

On By Mary KochIn Uncategorized1 Comment

On Earth Day — of all days — public transportation, more specifically busses, had me bamboozled. This after two-and-a-half years of preaching about the wonderfulness of Seattle’s mass transit! How I’ve crowed about reducing my personal carbon footprint by not owning/driving a car.

My plan for the day was simple: pick up a couple sandwiches from a neighborhood deli for lunch with my sister, who lives a mere forty miles away. From the deli, I’d walk downhill seven blocks to catch the Sound Transit 594 Express, hop off in downtown Tacoma and board the Pierce Transit No. 45, which drives right past my sister’s house in Parkland.

You know the old Hebrew saying. “We plan; God laughs.” 

Undeterred by a steady rainfall, my umbrella and I arrived at the deli. The sandwiches I’d ordered online the day before weren’t ready. After a twenty-minute wait, I knew I’d missed the No. 594. I didn’t mind. It runs every thirty minutes, giving me an extra ten minutes to walk more carefully down the steep, rain-slicked sidewalk. By chance a neighbor was also waiting at the bus stop, though headed in a different direction. We agreed that we were fortunate not to be driving through rain and heavy traffic.

The 594 was a minute late, and I was a bit concerned. The wait time between the No. 594 and No. 45 to Parkland is tight. Still, the bus cruised along the express lane as I peered down at drivers — alone in their cars — making tedious if any progress.  We arrived in Tacoma right on time. I hopped off the 594 but somehow got turned around, heading in the wrong direction for the 45. By the time I realized my error, the Parkland bus was long gone. 

No matter. Our sandwiches could wait. This gave me a half-hour to explore  a bit of downtown Tacoma. What impressive changes since the 1960s when I was a student there! Buildings refreshed and repurposed. A tiered fountain takes advantage of downtown’s steep hill, spilling cascades of clear water between Commerce and Pacific streets. Even on a rainy day, it was refreshing. What used to be just plain old 9th and Broadway is now the heart of the “Theater District.” Oh, my.

Next comes the insulting part. I got back to the bus stop in plenty of time and noted that the No. 42 was parked along the curb. I figured the 45 would pull up behind it. As time for the 45 arrived, the “No. 42” started its engine and began to pull away. I turned to watch the departing bus and realized it had morphed. The electric route sign had changed from “42” to “45.”

“Hey!” I yelled pointlessly while waving my umbrella. The bus headed up the hill without me. Exasperated, not to mention hungry, I pulled out my phone and punched the Lyft app. Dominic arrived in two minutes and got me directly to my sister’s house sooner than the No. 45 would’ve.

“How much did that cost?” my sister asked. I’d been pondering the same question. The Lyft fare was a pittance when I considered the monthly cost of maintaining, insuring, parking and fueling my own car.

After our lunch and visit, I left in plenty of time to catch the No. 45 at three o’clock. So early, in fact, I barely missed the bus that departed at 2:45. Oh, well. I hunkered down. The shelter protected me from rain but not wind. Sure enough a bus pulled in at 3 p.m. As I tried to board, the driver told me we wouldn’t be leaving until 3:15. I’d misread the schedule. Upon his return from the restroom, the driver kindly allowed me to wait inside the bus and announced, “Your trip is free ’cuz it’s Earth Day.” 

I smiled, said thanks, and didn’t bother to tell him that ALL my bus rides are free. My retirement community, Horizon House, pays for my senior citizen Orca card, which covers all public transit in the region, including ferries and light rail. Every day is Earth Day.

The No. 45 got me back to catch the No. 594 with two minutes to spare. The return to Seattle was smooth sailing, but I was too exhausted to walk back up First Hill. I decided to take the G Line. It — of course — was pulling away as a red light kept me from crossing the street and boarding. Then, a miracle. Metro No. 2 pulled up. It would get me two blocks closer to home than the G Line. 

Finally home, I pondered the day. I realized each missed bus gave me an opportunity: to walk more slowly, safely downhill; to chat with a neighbor I don’t see often enough; to explore a renovated downtown Tacoma; to admire the stuffed animals in Dominic’s Lyft car and learn he’ll be a first-time father “very soon.” 

The 3:15 bus coincided with the end of the school day. What a scene! Teens tumbled onboard with adolescent bravado masking their self-awareness and uncertainty.  A few blocks further, the driver lowered the ramp for a homeless man whose pull cart was piled high, presumably with all that he owned. His large dog made friends with a chihuahua riding in a kennel on wheels. A cyclist taking a shortcut efficiently loaded his bike on the rack in front of the bus and hopped on.

Public transit is people being with other people — different people — going and getting somewhere together. If I still had a car, I would’ve driven alone to my sister’s and back. Where’s the story in that?

HOME: What’s it worth to you?

On By Mary KochIn Uncategorized1 Comment

The “starter” home that I bought in 1974 for $10,000 recently sold for $840,000. No, not my financial coup. I’d sold it for $30,000 five years after I bought it. I’d considered that outrageous good fortune.

Originally built as a summer cottage, it clings to a side hill on the very northern tip of Vashon Island, across from Seattle. It has one bedroom, a cramped kitchen and a panoramic view of Puget Sound’s marine life with snow-capped Mount Baker far in the north, the Olympic Peninsula to the west and city skyline to the east. Considering the million dollar view, you could argue the new owners got a bargain.

“You should’ve kept it,” murmured the friend who told me about the sale. I sighed. Many times through the years I thought about that dear first home. Sitting now at my keyboard I drift off … I’m standing at that big front window, mug of coffee in hand, drinking in all the beauty that stretches out before me. Too wonderful to be mine. 

I shake myself back to reality, to practicality. I sold the house because I was marrying my beloved, moving to the other side of the state, and would have neither time nor energy to maintain an island haven. We already had a second home: our newspaper office, where we shared the work we were both devoted to.

If I did have that $840,000 (minus fees, commissions and taxes), what difference would it make in my life now? None. Nearing age 82, I’m content with my lifestyle. Throughout the past decade of downsizing I discovered I have everything I need and too much of it. My financial advisor says I have enough money to last my lifetime, with some left over. Well, we’ll see. 

I could increase my charitable giving, although it always takes more than money to solve our real problems. With inflation, that $10,000 I invested in 1974 has the purchasing power of about $66,000 today. Good luck finding a starter for that amount. A one-bedroom in King County now goes for $350,000 to $550,000, says Zillow. Even for those of us who no longer need a starter, the Seattle Times reports that Washington is the seventh most expensive state for older adults. 

It’s all about numbers, unbelievable numbers. 

“More than 90 percent of all money — more than $50 trillion appearing in our accounts — exists only on computer servers,” writes Yuval Noah Harari in his book, “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind.” He notes that “most business transactions are executed by moving electronic data from one computer file to another, without any exchange of physical cash.” On the book cover, above the title, above Harari’s name, is a blurb praising the book by someone who knows something about computers and money— Bill Gates.

Harari defines money as an “inter-subjective reality that exists solely in people’s shared imagination.” In simpler terms, he says, money is “a system of mutual trust, and not just any system of mutual trust: money is the most universal and most efficient system of mutual trust ever devised. (Italics his.)

For example, he suggests: “Christians and Muslims who could not agree on religious beliefs could nevertheless agree on a monetary belief, because whereas religion asks us to believe in something, money asks us to believe that other people believe in something.” (He really likes italics.)

Money has never been my motivator. It’s been a concern, a consideration, but never an end goal. Years back, my late husband John was figuring our net worth while applying for a business loan to purchase new equipment for the newspaper. With an astonished voice he declared, “Mary, we’re millionaires!” That was back in the day when a million bucks meant something.

For him, it wasn’t a measure of greed, wealth, or the supposed easy life that a million dollars could bring. It was an objective measure. Starting with nothing but talent and grit, he’d turned a small town newspaper into a million dollar business without, mind you, sacrificing his journalistic integrity. I enjoyed the richness of sharing in that achievement. 

Ultimately, our million dollars and more got sucked up by the medical industry following John’s brainstem stroke and paralysis. Over the remaining years of his life, he went from millionaire to Medicaid. The most common cause of bankruptcy in our nation is medical bills. We escaped that and the ignominy of a Medicaid divorce, thanks to a capable lawyer.

The last time I visited Vashon Island, after John’s death several years ago, I was amazed that my little house was still standing. I suspect now its days are numbered — the numbers being $840,000. The new owners likely will tear it down and spend at least that to build something more appropriate for the view I’d reveled in. 

I gave it up for something worth much more than any amount of money. Nostalgia but no regrets.