bremelog11Years ago, before Vanilla Ice, Frosty’s and redevelopment, before fountain parks and condos, before Starbuck’s and craft beer, there was a village on Puget Sound that the Greatest Generation called Bremerton.

There was a time that our old lady was received at cocktail parties like Aspen at a ski slope. There was a time when kids were kids and boys were the men of the street. When people lived, died, worked and prayed on a sliver of land that’s become home to what’s left of the Bremer Trust. A trust that’s been broken, friends. Not by the Bremers, but by whom? This is a question. A question with an answer that will take years and millions of tax dollars to answer.

And while you stare into the parking lot of your future, remember this: you are the trust, the broken pillar of commerce that has been left to rot and drown like a ferry without a hull, a sub without its crew, and a city without an identity. But, our great lady has an identity, a new, unremarkable Facebook of shame.

No? Do I go too far? Have I unnecessarily scraped the scab on the knee of the proud city of Puget Sound? Yes! Scrape we will. We’ll scrape and pick, and curse, and tear until the sacks are filled, the dam is built, and the children are riding their souped-up cars in the streets once again without shame. For we are a city of pride, parking lots, and unusual paradise, and we will not go quietly.

Yes, this is a time a mystery. A time of struggle. A time of greed. But, these are also the good times, people. A time that will tell if we are bound for greatness or a seat at the barstool of our skanky past. I, for one, would rather fester in the compost heap of history than live another day beneath the humiliation of knock, knock jokes and lavatory humor.

For it is time to lift our glasses and goblets forward to say, This is the time for all who have good will, reading glasses and proper footwear, to march down the path of righteousness and bring home to our sliver of land and our porch of optimism.

For no man, woman, or logger can take from us what is truly our own. And that, friends, is what we’ve come here to find.

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