One day last month I took in a summer bazaar at the Chisholm Senior Center. There were many small, diverse cookbooks by Tim Murphy, printed for fishermen, if I recall correctly, under the title of the “Flannel John” series. The recipes looked inviting, but with more ingredients than I like. There were also homemade beauty products, herbal stuff and much I didn’t see, since I didn’t stay long. This has been a busy summer for events.

When I see the ad for Jessie’s business across the Columbia, it reminds me of how she began. Jessie belongs to us. She started out as Jessie McPherson, one of five or six children. She was always a hard worker. Employed at Dunning’s Clam Shop on Broadway, she eventually married the proprietor. When he died, she inherited the business and kept it thriving. After a while, Jessie married Pierre Marchand, had several children and moved to Washington. In Oregon, we more or less kept track of her success. Heratio Alger stories are always an encouragement and in any case, fun to read about.

I’ve always felt that if somebody or some place gets into a crossword puzzle, he or it has arrived, so to speak. On Monday, Aug. 4, “Astoria” made it to its own puzzle as an Oregon port city. How exciting! John Jacob Astor’s family put it on the map, but this is more personal.

There may be only two or three of us left who remember William Galvani, the mayor of Seaside during the 1930s, and of course, we saw him on the street and spoke to him. There was an article about him in the museum’s latest newsletter. That was so nice to be reminded of him.

The picture doesn’t look as we recall our mayor, though. His hair was white, shoulder length and much bushier. He usually wore a black hat. Very distinguished looking and yes, foreign. He wore a black coat and black flowing tie as well.

His home on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Edgewood Street on the west side of the Necanicum River is no longer there. It was on a hill surrounded by flowers, and a fence now encloses the yard, but I can still see the house in my mind’s eye. He gave our town a little class – sort of like Mayor Baker did for Portland.

Then there was Vic Cook at the bank who didn’t think anyone was around who remembered doctors Ward, Rawls and Bretherton, not to mention Kerr, O’Donovan and Parcher. Hey, I worked with most of them.

While visiting in Gearhart Aug. 16, we came upon a wedding party making their way possibly from the park or beach down Pacific Way to perhaps the horse barn area. A tall piper led the party while squeezing out a tune on his bagpipes. The bride was beautiful in a long white dress, and her groom and a large crowd of guests accompanied her.

On Saturday, Emogene Sellars and I enjoyed a lasagna dinner with ice cream dessert at the beautiful home of Jim and Angela Waddell. They live in the wilds of Warrenton, within shooting distance of Fort Stevens, I think, or is it Camp Rilea? Anyway, across the water. The Waddells own two parrots — an entertaining orange creature named Bobby and a green Quaker parrot, Jade, who seems to me mellower. Angela is Emmy’s daughter and James, as you may recall, is one of “my” babies from the nursery at St. Mary’s Hospital. How time flies.

They also have three or four cats of various colors and characteristics. A large gray animal occasionally looks hopefully at the parrots (who fly freely in the sun room) while his whiskers are wont to jiggle. You’re imagining he’s about to tie a napkin under his chin but the Waddells assured us, they get along. Hey, felines and birds? Get outa here! Later in the evening, they were visited by Jim’s sister, Donna, and her husband, Toby, from Grants Pass. New friends are always welcome.

Q: Have I told you what one earthquake said to the other?

A: “That’s your fault!”