Bike To Work Day Eve

Yesterday was Bike To Work Day. I had to be at work by 5:30 a.m. to set up our Commute Station. There were plenty of things to give away and plenty of volunteers, so all I had to do was stand on Jackson Street and yell at bicyclists.

The day before, Bike To Work Day Eve, those employees that could rode their bikes to SODO Station for the annual photo shoot of staff participating in Bike Month.

Because the gods wanted us to take good photos, the clouds produced no rain, the temperature was downright balmy, and the coworkers were well-behaved.

Here's a video about the shoot.

Immigration rights march in downtown Seattle

I managed to leave work on Wednesday with time to catch up with the annual immigration rights march, which always goes past the building I work in. Until Wednesday, I'd only watched parts of it from a window at work.

Growing up, I heard stories about my great-grandfather, Adolph Munter, who immigrated to the U.S. from Prussia and was considered German. He was publicly and privately attacked during World War I because of his anti-war and "pro-German" activities, and was investigated by the OSS, the precursor to the FBI.

Adolph Munter - Spokane, Washington

He was viewed as foreign and thus suspicious. Today, we wouldn't think twice about a German Jew immigrating to our country. He was suspect because of the war that the US was then engaged in. History repeats itself.


The march on Wednesday for immigration rights was peaceful and organized. I was impressed with the wide range in ages, and the primarily Latina and Latino makeup of the march. I think my community has been enriched with these new neighbors and I am hopeful for their efforts and the efforts at the national level to reform immigrants' rights.

Bike Month video made by coworkers

Here's a video made by some coworkers that celebrates their Commute Challenge team, the Utes of East Link. They call themselves the Utes because they're all utility engineers. I thought maybe they were Native Americans from Utah. Nope.

An early basket cam

The grandmother of helmet cams.

Helmet cam dead

My helmet cam died. I bought it in May and it died. Fortunately, the manufacturer has offices in Seattle so I was able to swap the dead for the undead. The manufacturer, Contour, has a decent web site, though no sign of a phone number anywhere. I had to do all the correspondence via email. I recognize it's a new era in communications, but as far as I'm concerned, good customer service means a phone number and a live human at the other end.

I felt a little naked without the camera while I pedaled to and from work the past few days. I witnessed some stupid moves by automobile drivers and bicyclists, and was aware that I wasn't capturing it on video.

Last weekend, two friends and I pedaled the Chief Sealth Trail, a short and hilly trail though south Seattle, mostly along the path of power lines. When Link light rail was being constructed, the contractor moved the removed soils to this power line area to build the trail. 

No helmet cam; had to take a still shot. Brutal!

Carol Milne and Joline El-Hai are excellent bicycling companions. We move at about the same speed. This photo was taken in the middle of the P-Patch just north of the Rainier Beach Station.

We're now talking about doing a longer, multi-day bike ride next spring, someplace out of the area.

It's dark out...

I leave the house around 5:30 in the morning. My husband walks me out, and watches my early morning ablutions:

1. Pull my cell phone out
2. Turn on CycleTracks and begin a trip
3. Put my cell phone in my pocket
4. Attach the camera to the top of the helmet and turn it on
5. Turn on the back light
6. Turn on the BikeGlow
7. Turn on the head light
8. Put on gloves
9. Kiss the spouse
10. Take off

It's now dark out for most of my ride in, which isn't a bad thing. I like riding through city streets while most other people are still snug in their beds. They're snug in their beds, so they're not out driving and keeping me on hyper-vigilance.

Familial reminders in downtown Seattle

There are lots of places in downtown Seattle that remind me of my family, as I pedal around. My grandfather, an architect, worked on a number of buildings downtown prior to his death during the Great Depression. My mother worked at the original Kress grocery store in the 1930s. My parents met at General Electric in downtown.

But one thing I think about almost every day is the story of my cousin Ernie Schlesinger and the Frye Hotel. When he was 14 in 1940, Ernie and his parents were able to leave Nazi Germany through the one route that remained open for Jews, across Europe, Russia, Asia and finally to Japan, from where they sailed to Seattle. 

Ernie's mother, Kate Munter Schlesinger, had contacted my great aunt, Hulda Munter in Spokane, Washington, and asked for assistance in getting out of the country. Hulda sponsored the Schlesingers, and so when they landed in Seattle, they were met by family.

Seattle Times - August 4, 1940

The Schlesingers spent their first night in the United States at the Frye Hotel. Every day on my bicycle ride into work, I remember this because I pass the Frye, right before I drop down into the International District.