sandpoint of view
LEAVE, AND YOU REALIZE IT’S BETTER HERE THAN ANYWHERE ELSE by Gary Lirette
GARY LIRETTE HAS DONE A LITTLE BIT OF EVERYTHING IN HIS 20 YEARS IN SANDPOINT, FROM RADIO WORK TO DONUT SHOP OWNER (WALKER’S DONUTS) TO WINE SELLER TO BUSINESS EQUIPMENT REPAIR. IT CAN BE DIFFICULT TO MAKE A LIVING HERE BUT, HE SAYS, IT’S MORE DIFFICULT TO LEAVE.
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There’s No Place Like
sandpoint
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eaving Sandpoint for sophisticated Portland was an adventure, and yes, Portland is an amazing city. What I didn’t know was what I might be missing. Like my Ya Ya Sisters, and my neighbors who became friends, and my friends who became family. Surprisingly, I missed the snow, the seasons, the beauty of the lakes and mountains, but most of all, I missed the people. I missed hour-long stories from Ed Ostrom and Trish Gannon. I missed Marianne Love’s writings and the musings of Ben Stein. I grieved for Charlie Packard and lost youth the likes of Kaiti Brosh and Patrick Orton. Missing those lost loved ones reminded me of the incredible generosity of Bonner folk; every cause getting help and dollars, often from people who can ill afford it, and those same friends and neighbors appearing and offering to get rid of that big snow load on my roof … for free. I missed being able to walk a hundred yards any direction practically any day of the year and listen to live music. I felt lost without the events and happenings that pepper every month and place: the Follies, Lost in the ‘50s, Winter Carnival and the Festival at Sandpoint. I reminisced about Academy Award-winners meeting daily at Monarch Mountain Coffee, weaving tales and regaling at the world. I missed sharing recipes about pies with Heather from The Pie Hut, wondering where in the world would people be so humble as to have a master pie maker accept the musings of an amateur. I missed driving down country roads not seeing another soul, sometimes for hours, and along that road people wave, though you’ve clearly never met. Traffic was a vexing part of city living; many times, while inching forward in a two-hour commute, I would think of the Sandpoint versions of traffic malaise. When stuck for an extra 20 minutes on the Long Bridge, the view, at least, brought solace. Or being at a four-way stop where people would say, “You go.” “No, you go.” “No, that’s okay, I don’t have to be anywhere right now.” I yearned for the spectacular sunrises and sunsets of bonny Bonner, those vistas that Kirk Miller has taught us via Facebook are the best in the world. I would search, driving to the coast or distant mountains, but they just didn’t compare. The vistas we wake up with every day are amazing and in our own back yards. I missed the views and the spectacular scenery: Mickinnick and the Scotchman Trail 65, Gold Hill, and the view of the Roman Nose lakes from the summit. In any direction there is incredible natural beauty: the Beehive, the Pack River Flats, the Pend Oreille, dozens of waterfalls, and the Seven Sisters, and up there is the aurora borealis and millions of stars you just can’t see in the city. I had taken for granted being able to drive just 20 minutes to one of the world’s most beautiful ski resorts. Just how many places have that view of our majestic lake and lifts with no lines? Every day I was gone I missed all of this and so much more. Returning home was like being the prodigal son. Everyone gave warm greetings. They welcomed me home. Everyone knew where I had been, they knew my story. And guess what? I missed that, too. There’s no place on earth like Sandpoint. It’s good to be home.
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