Discover Walla Walla

Every time I drive through downtown Walla Walla I'm scared I'll get into an accident.  That may not sound like a pleasant introduction to this wonderful little city, but let me explain.

Walla Walla is one of the most beautiful little towns I've ever experienced and every time I drive through its charming downtown (especially Main Street) I'm struck by its simple elegance and preserved history.

Then there are the people.

While stopped at one of many stoplights, I note two gentlemen on the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to allow them to proceed.  They're as different as can be.  One is older, perhaps 60, experienced in life and ready to relax and enjoy a slower pace.  His walking shoes are worn and his simple garb includes a black windbreaker and a plain black baseball cap.  He didn't bother to shave this morning.

The other is closer to my age, probably not yet 30, clean-shaven, gelled hair, brand new tie flapping in the breeze.  His hands are stuffed into his suit coat pockets (probably to ward off the chill of the winter wind), and his shiny businessman shoes are stylish and classy.

The light turns green.  I press on the gas pedal, the two men start across the road, one significantly more hurried than the other.

At the next corner, I'm again at a red light (did I hit ALL of them today?).  A woman crosses the road in front of me, walking slowly with a limp, pulling her quilted purple coat tightly around her.  As the light turns yellow, two teenage girls make a run for it to avoid a wait. Neither one of them is dressed for the season - that wouldn't be cool.  They giggle as they hurry past the waiting cars and dash into a nearby café. 

Finally, I make it through the heart of downtown.  The vindictive stoplights that inexplicably have it out for me today are in the past.  I cruise past the Catholic hospital, watching for ambulances and over-confident pedestrians.  A 40-something woman is walking briskly down the sidewalk, either headed somewhere or with some goal in mind, sunglasses on her nose, sneakers tightly tied and the leash of her brown dachshund clasped loosely in her hand.

Through another intersection...I glance down the cross-street and note a small dark-skinned boy, probably less than 10 years old, slowly making his way home from school alone.  He has no smile on his face, and, unlike most young people today, isn't punching buttons on a handheld game console or tapping on a cell phone.  No wires dangle from his ears, either.  A nearly empty backpack bounces on his back as he kicks at a few pebbles in his path.  Clearly in no hurry, I imagine he's reveling in these lonely moments, away from teachers, parents, older siblings...no one to tell him what to do.  I know I would.

Eyes back on the road, I slow to make a turn and continue on my way.