During the last few months, I have been explaining (which is hard to do when your tongue’s firmly planted in your cheek) that VASHON is not a name but an acronym — which is to say, a gathering of letters which hint at a hidden message one can understand only by parsing each letter.
The “V,” you will recall, stands for Vigorous, which is what so many of our fellow Islanders seem compelled to be. The “A” is for Alternative, as it has been for as long as Islanders can remember (and which for some of us isn’t that long anyway). Vashonites seem to prefer a way of life that is alternative to anything commonly accepted or believed elsewhere, like, say, Bainbridge. The “S” stands for that one natural disaster which appears to strike terror into the hearts of many Islanders: no, not catastrophic seismic events, but a dusting of Snow. The “H” stands for Helpful, which Islanders here are in spades … unlike, say, some off-Island local art gallery owners. The “O” represents the utterly fictitious but charming local belief in whales that dress funny. They travel around the Island, invisibly as near as I can tell, in “pods” which — I don’t know about you — sounds way too “Sci-Fi” to me.
We come now to the final letter in the acronym, the final clue in the mystery: the meaning of that final consonant, the “N.” And let me tell you, this was no easy mystery to unravel. For clues, I referred to my well-worn copy of Webster’s Unabridged which offered many possibilities. For example, the “N” in VASHON could stand for “Natural” — you know: natural food, natural fabrics, natural coffee, natural shoes, natural toothpaste. Kind of a religion here. The N might have stood for “Negotiation,” but the Vashon-Maury Island Community Council couldn’t agree on this and tabled the motion. Then there’s “Nettle,” which as near as I can tell is the only deer-proof wild plant that thrives in our miserable early spring climate and is useful for almost nothing, other than hurting you. Then we roll on to “New Age,” but is there really any point in commenting on that? Uh-uh. Ditto, for that matter, “New Left.” They’re sort of givens in this island.
There’s “Nice,” which so many people here are, and which is so very creepy to anyone from elsewhere; it’s like Vashonites have been hit by a space ray of niceness. It’s just plain …well … unnatural. There’s “Nitrate” in the water, too, of course, giving you at least a choice in water quality worries beyond just arsenic.
“Nonconformity” is another good N-word but, like New Age, is just way too obvious. There is also “Nonsense,” but I like to claim that one as my own.
On and on the N-words scroll. “Nutcase,” would certainly define my friend “Bad Michael” at the Burton Coffee Stand but could hardly represent the population as a whole. Right? Not in print, anyway.
No, I think when push comes to shove — which, of course, it never would on this maddeningly polite Island, the “N” in Vashon can only stand for “Neighborliness.” OK, OK, I know that sounds sappy, but how do you get around it? I can’t speak for the whole Island (much to everyone’s relief), but I can say that the little hamlet where I live, Burton, is about the most neighborly place in America. To be honest, this isn’t saying much in a country where most people don’t know the names of the folks who live in the next house along the lane in their gated “community.”
But Burton’s different. Forget your cash and the comely barista at the coffee stand will say, “Bring it by when you have a chance,” as will the proprietress of the Harbor Mercantile (depending on her mood). Leave your key in the lock of your box at our pocket post office, and the clerk will put a friendly post-it note on the door: “You forgot your key again, imbecile!” See what I mean? Neighborly. See an antique rug at “Lost and Found” but don’t know if the colors will work? No problem: it’s, “Take it home, try it out, bring it back when you have a moment.” I don’t think the guy at the Burton Shell (which doesn’t sell Shell or any other kind of gasoline) will do the same with, say, a new set of tires, but you can be sure of a neighborly smile when he says, “Listen, pal, my mother didn’t bring up no idiots.”
Thing is, see, in Burton, we look out for each other. Fall ill? Somebody’s gonna show up at the door with soup and probably some natural remedy as well, not to mention take up a collection for you. Need a pickup for a trip to the transfer station? Easily arranged, along with help loading. Worried your bus is late? Stick a thumb out and one of us will give you a lift all the way to the ferry, if that’s what you need. No charge. That’s just how it is here.
So there you have it: Vashon is a Vigorously-living, Alternative-loving, Snow-fearing, Help-giving, Orca-believing, Neighborly sort of place. Sappy? You bet. Now, if only the rest of the world worked this way.
— Will North is a Vashon novelist who is being tolerated by the patient residents of Burton — so far.
