I’d like to think I could be the head of Seattle tourism.
It’s my second stint here. I left New York City in April 2007, and immediately cancelled my New York Magazine and New Yorker subscriptions.
Months later, I still dressed like a New Yorker. In fact, I was headed to a client meeting and a co-worker said, “Dave, I didn’t realize you went to church on Thursdays.” I laughed and untucked my shirt. Then promptly went out and bought a pair of Red Wings, some flannel shirts and stopped shaving.
To me, Seattle just feels right. The gray doesn’t get to me. I can find beauty in the dramatic skies on the bleakest of days. Something colorful is always in bloom. And looking at the water never gets old.
If it gets too chilly, there’s another layer of Patagonia and the world’s best coffee. If it gets too hot, well, let’s not kid ourselves.
Speaking of chill, or freeze, I don’t believe there is one. I’ve lived in enough places to know that meeting friends, and finding the folks who do the things you love to do, takes a bit of work. And it’s always worth the effort.
When my wife and I were renovating our home a few years ago, we found a Seattle Times Sunday Magazine from 1969. In it, there was a rare color spread. It had an aerial photo of the city. The caption wondered if all the growth would ruin the city. Forty-nine years later, I’d argue it’s only making it more attractive to me.