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TO THE EDITOR Off the track
I was astonished by the gratuitous and demonstrably false criticism leveled against Paul Dorpat and myself by Billy King in a letter published in the Oct. 3, edition of Pacific Northwest magazine that accuses us of "marginalizing" local railroad history. I honestly have no idea what he is talking about and neither does he. For the record, I have written two books that address local and regional railway history in depth (including a history of Union Station, which Mr. King mentioned) and I am currently writing a third, not to mention several articles published by The Seattle Times. Similarly, Paul Dorpat's books and articles have included countless details on local railroad history. I suggest that Mr. King do a little research before he jumps the tracks to more spurious conclusions or attempts again to derail the reputations of local historians.
Walt Crowley
Father-daughter memories
Despite the Jabberwocky-esque wordplay lacing Jonathan Raban's "Travels With Julia," (Sept. 26) I was amazed and thrilled that another father-daughter duo had discovered this azure jewel called Puerto Santo Tomas. It was 20 years ago that my father took his little girl (me) along the crazy road where we camped under the stars, and by day, hiked along the sea cliffs combing for shells and rocks. Thanks for bringing back to life the magic of this still-untapped corner of Baja. I promise you it will mean the world to Julia for the rest of her life.
Heidi Witherspoon
In the Japanese Garden
Like scarlet stars
I thought you might appreciate a small poem in response to the "Best of Fall Show" (Plant Life, Oct. 24) a way of expressing my thanks for your many wonderful articles about the garden. Greenpeace,
Christie Hammond
Column's full of pith Every Sunday, the first article I look for in Pacific Northwest is Steve Johnston's Sunday Punch. I do this because I look forward to "the Truly Unpleasant Mrs. Johnston's" pithy remarks. I really enjoy the articles.
Betty Robinson
Food for thought Had Ms. Leson dug a little harder, she would have found a more precise meaning of the word "bistro" ("Good Neighbors," Nov. 14). At the risk of sounding like the linguistic police such as James Kilpatrick and William Safire, words do have distinct meanings that deserve respect. Although there is some dispute, the most commonly accepted origin of "bistro" is a Slavic word of similar pronunciation that means "quick." During the Napoleonic Wars, Russian soldiers who had invaded parts of France would burst into local taverns demanding food and drink while shouting "Bistry! Bistry!" as they were understandably in a bit of a rush between battles. The term stuck for modest places offering mostly drink but also a limited selection of well-prepared dishes delivered in short order. Leson's citation of Oxford is essentially correct, "an establishment where one can have something to eat, as well as drinks." But notice the emphasis is on drink. Often, bistros place their bar in a central, prominent location, with no separation between it and the tables. My own Webster's echoes this by defining bistro as "a small bar or nightclub." In a real bistro of which there are hundreds throughout France one can sit for hours with only a glass of wine and a plate of chevre and a baguette. I doubt that many of the places cited by Ms. Leson would look favorably on such behavior by their customers. But perhaps the principal limitation on our ability to experience a true bistro is our state's liquor laws, which tend to categorize places with bistro-like characteristics as taverns. While one can certainly drink in a tavern, the food is rarely worth writing about.
Mark Hinshaw
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