Nothing like a getaway, even if by train to Portland. A far cry from adventures around the world but nevertheless a peaceful sense of floating on the updated Amtrak passenger car, suspended on each corner so that you simply float along as you round every turn through beautiful Puget Sound. There was time to visit with other passengers, even one whose name I could send in to the WWII Rosie archives.

From the train, my friend and I were whisked to the dock where a beautiful lunch cruise ship, the Portland Princess, was waiting for our bus full of vacationers to board. We were greeted by singing waiters followed by a jazz pianist with a glass container nearby on the grand piano revealing the $5 bill that had been placed there to sweeten the pot as a tip.

Not being a wilting violet, after the pianist went for a break I walked to the piano, trying not to limp in my recently sprained Ace bandaged ankle with my walker close by, and started playing my Liberace style music. After walking back to my table I mumbled, “I didn’t get a tip.” As soon as I finished my chocolate mousse with Bailey’s Irish crème, I was revitalized and went back up to the piano stage. I was revving up with a Gershwin tune when I looked up to catch a woman dropping a $5 bill onto the piano in front of me. “Now you have a tip,” she remarked, smiled, and before I could protest, she was gone.
My friend and I could not stop talking about my first ever tip for playing jazz piano as we continued with the tour group to the rose garden with the first blooms of the season in wonderful shades of red, pink, orange and multicolored splendor.

We didn’t have to rush back to the bus as my walker guaranteed me a seat right up front with an unobstructed view of the great scenery through the park. Our next day was a special viewing of a parade of floats in the arena. Horses decorated in bouncing rose bouquets were mounted by horsewomen who encouraged their steeds to high step it along. Another perk was the wheel chair assistance to and from the arena. Not so bad riding in a wheel chair when one knows that it is only a temporary convenience.

But we weren’t through with our weekend getaway yet. On the way back we stopped in to enjoy a gala to celebrate the first flight of the B-17, bringing home a tote bag full of goodies, mine including a commemorative bottle of wine especially labeled B-17 Honoree. For a teetotaler like me this will become a remembrance to put in a cool place for someone to find after I am gone. It could be toasted at my memorial service if I ever intended to die.

Lazing about in my ace bandage to recover from the weekend I was jolted by a call ordering me in for an x-ray resulting in my being confined to a protective boot for three weeks. I fantasize burning it in effigy when I finally have proof that I am healed. Is life reminding me to slow down? Not if Erma Bombeck’s advice is still valid. She would remind me to go for it and never pass up a chance to live life to its fullest.

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer who can be reached at gnkunkel@comcast.net or 206-935-8663. Please call me if you worked in war industry during WWII qualifying you as a Rosie the Riveter.