A confluence of events caused me one day last month to be walking soaking wet past Sylvester Middle School while contemplating Burien's future.

Reaching a landmark birthday leads some to choose a challenge that marks the occasion, such as parachuting from a plane or climbing Mount Rainier.

After hitting 60, I just wanted to see if I could recreate one of my adolescent three and a half mile strolls from Sylvester through downtown Burien to my boyhood home at South 146th Street and Fifth Avenue South (now conveniently called Mathison Park) without the need for oxygen. Some people set modest goals.

I also wanted to write something about October being National Walk to School Month.

And an excellent series in the Times/News on the challenges to small merchants from the First Avenue South reconstruction along with anguished responses to the articles made me think about the past, present and future of Burien.

So attempting to accomplish all three goals, I set off from Sylvester one morning. Immediately it started raining. It was not like the threat of a light mist that used to bring my mother scurrying to pick up my little sister after school.

No, it was the kind of torrential monsoon that would pry Mom out of the house to retrieve her son.

Bruno's Shoe Repair on the south side of Southwest 152nd Street was my first stop. It's one of the few businesses on my tour that still bears the same name. In the front, I would get my hair cut, and in the back Italian immigrant Bruno and son Tony would repair shoes. Shoes are still being fixed but by different immigrants.

I walked up past Fourth Avenue Southwest to Dr. Morrison's office, now Windermere Realty. Dr. Morrison would make house calls when we were sick. When I was a little kid, his office was the start of downtown.

In the same block was the office of our family dentist, Odd Valle, which is now a tattoo parlor.

I think bi-partisan party place Mick Kelley's Irish Pub is the site of the old Dad and Lad. It sold clothes for dads (men) and lads (boys).

Next up was the Town Square sales office.

I didn't fully grasp the planned future for Burien until preview night when I rounded the corner and entered the condominium model. I was instantly transported to Belltown as I came upon stylish young yuppies sipping white wine at a granite-topped kitchen island.

In real estate timing is everything, and this sales effort began at a bad time. The preliminary roster of juice bars, etc., signed to occupy the square was supposed to be announced this summer but no glowing press releases have been forthcoming.

On the next block were located the old Highline Pharmacy, Highline Times and Burien Books (hey, it's still there!). As an aspiring junior high writer, I would wonder as I wandered by the Times' office what it would be like to work there or for that colorful publisher up in White Center, Jerry Robinson.

I used to turn around at Ambaum but Olde Burien is now the new Burien. So I continued past the trendy bars and restaurants, lotions and notions boutiques and a terrific toy store.

Gaining steam, I raced down the north side of Burien's Main Street, passing the former five-and-dime; old, old Safeway; former Bells of Burien/Lamonts/Gottschalks; and ex-Pay-n-Save.

I asked for bottled water at Taco Time instead of the creamy chocolate shake I used to order when it was Lou's Drive-in.

The sun burst out, as I turned east for the final accent up Mount 146th to the summit at Mathison Park.

My trek brought back powerful memories of when Burien was a bedroom community for practical Boeing workers whose neighbors served them in the local mom-and-pop stores.

I feel the agony of those who worry about where we are going.

But we must also understand that our community has been stagnating with the shopping focus shifted to Southcenter and the long fight over airport expansion.

In the past few months, I have seen Burien characterized as the new Ballard for its coming condos, the new Brooklyn for its budding artist colony and the new White Center for its ethnic delicacies.

New times promise a revival. With the new, let's also hang on to some of that old down-to-earthiness and community spirit.

Eric Mathison can be reached at hteditor@robinsonnews.com or 206-388-1855.