Grassy Median
Near Riverside and Madison
by Orion Moon


The Riverside Historic District runs along this winding avenue from Monroe to Cedar Streets. The strips of grass in the middle were part of a landscaping plan crafted in 1907 by the Olmstead Brothers firm, which was also responsible for the designs of Manito Park and many of Seattle's beautiful parks and public spaces. The trees on the median strips are all century-old Lindens, and the buildings, in addition to being some of the best preserved structures of the old city center from the decades after fire, still house the headquarters of several of the most powerful and prestigious old-money fraternal, business, and religious organizations in this city.

A Disclaimer:

This is not a place where something extraordinary happened to me. Something extraordinary did indeed happen here, and I just happened to be here for a few moments while something was happening. My story is not about the homeless camping ordinance protests in July 2004 that saw these median strips filled with a three-block tent city. Those stories belong to other people, and are theirs to tell. My story is about this metal plate.

This remarkable object holds great fascination for me personally, much more so than the century's worth of ornate and beautiful architecture surrounding it. The first time I stood here six years ago, there was food sitting on this plate (it was in a pot, mind you). The people who made the food and brought it here were sitting on the grass nearby. I made brief, awkward conversation with the people and politely tried some of their food, which I found very strange and didn't eat much of. The friend who I'd reluctantly been dragged along by exchanged contact information with them in the interest of them possibly writing something for us, and us in turn possibly helping them make some more food. I took several pictures, which was what I was supposed to be doing that day. When we left I didn't think we'd ever really see or hear from them again.

Over the course of the following months and years, the two people I met here have become two of the central pillars of my life. There is little I have done in the intervening time since that first meeting that cannot be directly or indirectly linked to these remarkable people, and the chains of events these relationships have set in motion. I see this place, and this unremarkable object identifying it, as the point of origin for a whole system of radiating branches (or propagating fractures). I came here once to find a story, and I left with thousands tucked away inside of it.


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