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Posts Tagged ‘Videoville’

Ayanna Jeter

Ayanna Jeter (John Fisken photos)

Mckenzie Meyer

Mckenzie Meyer

Tony Maggio

Tony Maggio

Tomorrow, somewhere in Coupeville, birthday cake will be eaten.

With three prominent Wolves — Tony Maggio, Ayanna Jeter and Mckenzie Meyer — sharing July 19 as the day they entered the world, that’s a given.

While the trio all hail from different sports, they share some common traits — friendliness, serenity of spirit and undying commitment to perfecting their craft.

Maggio ran the CHS football program for three years, increasing the school’s win total each year and beating South Whidbey twice.

And while he’s stepped aside now, to spend more time with family and focus on his job at Sherwin-Williams, the ol’ ball coach will still have an impact on the Wolves for years to come.

He helped stars like Josh Bayne, Nick Streubel and Jake Tumblin to reach their full potential, while also not forgetting the last guy on his roster.

One of those coaches who always seemed to genuinely care for all of his players, taking a personal interest in their lives off the field as well, he attended more games than any other coach at CHS.

If there was a volleyball match, or a baseball game, he was there, to root for every kid who wore the red and black.

And, while he won’t be mashing his ball cap into the gridiron on any more Friday nights after a ref tries to screw his team, I expect we’ll still see a lot of him out and about. As always, he’ll be a welcome presence.

Jeter, like a lot of cheerleaders, is an irresistible force of nature.

Quiet and composed off the field, but loud ‘n proud on the sidelines, Ayanna won Rookie of the Year honors during her freshman season last year, and it’s easy to see why.

A flier, she would go airborne with a smile splashed across her face that could light up the entire prairie.

A genuinely sweet young woman, Miss Jeter radiates intelligence, warmth and spirit in everything she does, and if you want to put a face to Wolf spirit, you couldn’t make a better choice than Ayanna.

And then we come to the final member of our trio, and the one I’ve actually seen grow up before my eyes.

Long before Mckenzie Meyer became a tennis hot shot, a soccer sensation, and, if recent photos of are to be believed, a cheerleader, she was the little girl who hung out sometimes at Videoville and Miriam’s Espresso.

The granddaughter of Miriam, the woman who paid me to goof off for 12+ years, Mckenzie went from stalking the gumball machine at the store I called a second home, to being the brilliant ball o’ fire she is today.

Smart as all get out, prodigiously talented (both as an athlete and on the stage), fiercely loyal and protective of her brothers Caleb and Kyle, the little girl has grown into a remarkable young woman.

Her aunts and uncles, who I worked with, have all grown up to be strong adults, and I can see some of all of them in Mckenzie.

She has Mike’s strength, Jenn’s pluck, Kathryn’s feistiness and Megan’s compassion and Mckenzie makes it all work, boppin’ through life and leaving a trail of happiness behind her.

Our birthday trio are united by many things — a school, a fighting spirit, a desire to make life happier for those around them — and we are lucky to claim all three.

They’ll celebrate birthdays Sunday, but the real winner every day? Us.

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Kate Harbour, doin' whatever the heck she wants.

Kate Harbour, doin’ whatever the heck she wants.

The Wonder Twins, Hayley Waterman (left) and Kate Harbour, back in the video store days.

   The Wonder Twins, Hayley Waterman (left) and Kate Harbour, back in the video store days.

This has nothing to do with sports, nothing.

But it’s my blog and I’ll do whatever I want.

So, on the birthday of one Kate Harbour, national treasure, I offer this excerpt from my book, “Memoirs of an Idiot” (you can order it from Amazon — there’s a link on the top right side of this page … yes, seriously).

Happy birthday, Kate, Katey, KAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTEEEEEE!

 

Many employees came and went during my 12+ years at Videoville, but I hold a special place in my memories for the “Wonder Twins.”

Kate and Hayley were many things — scary-smart, incredibly knowledgeable about films, sarcastic, slightly devious, hard-working, warmhearted yet capable of delivering soul-crushing verbal barbs — and they operated on the sort of secret wavelength that twins do.

They may have had different parents, but only their brains could operate on whatever fantastic frequency they were tuned into during those days.

Kate was a ninja, silent and deadly as she flashed by, yanking the DVD out of the player and replacing it with one of her own without even pausing to hit the eject button.

She detested country music, and I would try to have Waylon Jennings or Johnny Cash concerts playing when I knew she was due in for her shift.

One second, “Ring of Fire,” then the next moment “Shortbus” was scandalizing everyone in the store, and Kate had rappelled up between the storage shelves, ready to drop on the heads of unsuspecting baristas when they walked by.

As she would remind me with a long sigh, large amounts of eye-rolling and a drawn-out “Daaaaa-viiiiddd” whenever I forgot, she had been the first to be hired, but things weren’t in their proper proportion until Hayley joined her behind the counter.

The only person I’ve ever met who could do literally everything in the world at once, and do them all quite well, Hayley was the giggly one of the pair, prone to hiding in the rolling cart that went under the night drop box and grabbing people’s hands when they went to drop off a film.

She was a perfect counterpoint to Kate’s drier, precision-hit style of humor.

There are many tales to tell of the pair, only some of which involve a young boy in a Santa hat licking an ice cream cone while looking for movies, but I’ll leave you with one you can share in mixed company.

We had gotten a new film called “The Brown Bunny,” a self-indulgent piece of tripe about a man driving cross country while thinking about his lost love.

90 eyeball-glazing minutes with the camera looking out through a bug-streaked windshield, and then, out of nowhere, a fully XXX scene of Chloe Sevigny delivering some uncomfortable oral lovin’.

When the store owner discovered this, we were told not to rent the film, which then disappeared into the hands of the Wonder Twins, never to be seen again.

Until one morning when a customer walked up and asked me if this new movie “The Brown Bunny” was any good. Seeing as how we had close to 50 copies, we must of liked it, right?

Thinking the customer had lost it (which frequently happened in our store), I went around the corner of a video standee with them, my eyes coming up to see a full display of “The Brown Bunny,” row after row of boxes with the movie’s bright yellow cover looking back at me.

And, at the top, a nicely-lettered little sign saying “David’s Pick of the Week!!”

As I opened a few empty cases, which all held a photocopy of the real DVD’s artwork, I heard giggling coming from deep within the store, then the stealthy patter of feet making an escape.

Suddenly Merle Haggard’s voice vanished in mid-song, a barista on her way to get more milk screamed as something dropped on her from above, and tires squealed out of the parking lot outside.

We all worked in a video store, but we lived in the Wonder Twins’ world.

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A small (very small) smidgen of my vast DVD empire. (David Svien photo)

A small (very small) smidgen of my vast DVD empire. (David Svien photo)

Passions change.

For a great deal of my life, movies were my obsession.

I worked 15+ years in video stores, watched 10,000+ films (and then stopped counting) and spent much of my time trying to convince the world to see “Bottle Rocket,” then dodging the stuff thrown at me after people disagreed with my recommendation.

Dear people: I was right. You were wrong. Praise be to Owen Wilson’s crushed-in nose!

Since leaving the video store biz in 2009, I have watched a ton more movies, but didn’t actually own a single DVD until a couple months back.

Out of the blue, a friend cleaning out her house gifted me with a chunk of films and TV shows, and then, on a lark, I started to rebuild a collection from other people’s gifts and me running amuck and buying chunks of DVDs.

No movies, and then you look up one morning and the entire duplex is DVDs as far as the eye can see.

2,700 of them.

About that same time, I left my “real” job at Christopher’s on Whidbey after three years, unable to deal with the daily pain the dish pit inflicts on anyone foolhardy enough to enter its tropical climes.

It wasn’t the restaurant that drove me away, but the type of job.

Andreas, the chef/owner, bent over backwards to accommodate me and allow me time to cover games and make Coupeville Sports the vibrant, hyperventilating, low-paying thing it is.

But I couldn’t take the near-constant buzz in my fingers and the aching pain in my right shoulder any more (I don’t think I whined as much when I was washing dishes at 17 … OK, I probably did) and, sure enough, three weeks out, almost all of that is gone.

Of course, even as my pain recedes, so does the already-limited amount of money in my wallet.

My bills are fairly slim ‘n trim (no cell phone, no booze, cigs or Netflix, embracing a cruddy car — all that helps), but I do have one or two that have to be paid.

My landlord, for one, may appreciate I feed his cats, but that only carries so far.

So it was, last week, when something in my personal life hit me like an unexpected semi truck to the forehead and made me stop and reconsider things.

I’m not going in to what that was, but no, I am not sick if that’s what you’re thinking (just the opposite).

The particulars don’t really matter (it’s personal and will stay that way) but I have emerged with a new clarity and a new refusal to sink back into a dark hole as I have done in the past and thought about, for a long moment, doing again.

I don’t want to go back and get a “real” job. I want to do the one thing I do really, really well, and that is to write.

Will Coupeville Sports pay my limited bills? We’ll see.

I greatly appreciate those who have donated to me in the past, and those who have praised my efforts or offered words of encouragement.

If you feel like doing so, there’s a DONATE button on the top right of this page.

Whether it’s $1 or whether you decide to swoop in and fully fund me (I’ll try not to hold my breath…), every bit keeps us careening towards the three-year anniversary (Aug. 15) and our 4,000th article (not that far away actually).

But if you don’t feel like it, don’t, just go on reading for free.

Either way, I’m going forward, fully committed to Coupeville Sports and streamlining my life.

And that means all my DVDs go.

It was nice to have them back for a bit, to live in a video store again (seriously, my duplex is currently all bookcases, with DVDs lined up from “Abandon” to “Zu Warriors.”)

But, it’s not necessary. And I don’t need the constant temptation to buy more.

I lived that life for a long time, and I enjoyed it, greatly.

But times, and priorities, change.

Writing is my calling, always has been, with being a (Penn Cove) beach bum coming up closely behind.

Selling my movies, as I have already started to do (I’m having an epic $1 blow-out sale Saturday) makes sense (and, hopefully, a few dollars and cents).

It is time to live very simply, almost (but not quite) off the grid, doing what makes me happy, even if it barely covers the bills.

And I’m OK with that.

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Birthday

Birthdays for everyone. Everyone, I said!

The birthdays, they are raining down today.

CHS assistant baseball coach Chris Chan (bottom, with son Drew and wife Bev in the photo above), Wolf seniors Marisa and Lucas Etzell (top, left and right) and the superstar of superstars — Ashley (Ellsworth-Bagby) Heilig (she gets two photos).

All have made a positive impact on Cow Town and the sports world therein, whether playing or coaching or doing some of both.

Coach Chan is one of the true class acts, both in the dugout and on the school board.

The Etzells, while different in nature (Lucas is a born politician, glad-handing and smooth-talking everyone in sight while Marisa has a softer, quieter, but no less out-going personality) are smart, talented and full of drive.

And then there is Ash, the Queen of everything.

Her athletic accomplishments on the volleyball court, the basketball court and softball diamond are legendary.

She is among the best the red and black has ever seen, or will ever see.

But it’s the pig-tail rockin’ girl who used to work the counter at Videoville with me who was even more impressive. And has never stopped getting more impressive with each passing year.

As she sits (possibly mere hours away) on the edge of becoming a mom herself, I hope Ashley knows how truly amazing and wonderful, such a vibrant lil’ firecracker, we all think she is.

Her son or daughter will be blessed to have a mom whose mere presence makes the world infinitely better.

Pretty good way to start their journey.

To all four, may your joint birthday be an awesome one. And, if Ashley’s first-born wants to join the party today, so much the better.

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This is our cultural heritage. Especially "Croczilla." Do not let them go quietly into that good night.

   This is our cultural heritage. Especially “Croczilla.” Do not let them go quietly into that good night.

There is a time in all of our lives that has a special glow in our memories.

For me, it is the 12+ years (Oct. 4, 1994-Dec. 31, 2006) I spent as manager at Videoville, the Coupeville video store that held its own against Blockbuster as countless other Whidbey movie outlets fell under less-than-friendly fire.

Top of the Hill Video (1 and 2). Quality In-House Video. Crazy Mike’s Video. Sunset Home Video. Coupeville Video.

At some point, I had a rental card for you all (and so many more).

But, like a good independent video store champion, I can state that not once did I ever rent a movie from Blockbuster. NEVER. EVER.

Videoville survived and thrived for longer than most for many reasons.

Being connected to Miriam’s Espresso helped.

Having a strong employee base and an owner (Miriam Meyer) who basically let us run wild as long as we didn’t burn the joint down or kill too many customers was huge, as well.

We couldn’t match Blockbuster’s new release wall in sheer numbers, but we beat them in selection.

Our foreign and documentary sections — my children — were the best on the Island. There is no doubt about that.

Blockbuster moved product.

We cared about movies and we made people watch Bottle Rocket and The Young Poisoner’s Handbook and The Limey and Box of Moonlight and Ichi the Killer (whether they wanted to or not).

Now, of course, video stores are all but dead, and it is a tragedy, one of the greatest of our lives.

You can argue that people have more choices than ever before, more access to films than at any point in the history of the motion picture, and that is true.

But it is impersonal, it is cold and removed and, frankly, Netflix and its computers do a terrible job of recommending movies for people to see.

It is super easy for them to say “Hey, Guardians of the Galaxy is fun!,” (it is — I saw it six times in the theater) but the next time their algorithm points you to Margaret’s Musuem or Rover Dangerfield or Samurai Fiction will be … never gonna happen.

In the years since Videoville, I have bounced through a number of jobs, all of which pay the bills but do little to stoke the inner fire.

It’s not their fault. They’re … jobs.

Videoville was a once-in-a-lifetime experience where I was paid to goof off for 12 mostly-transcendent years. It is, and probably will always be, my gold standard (especially since I am a lifelong movie fanatic).

Back in real life, I went a number of years without owning any DVDs, until, recently, a friend cleaning out her house suddenly gifted me with 150+ of them.

Since that point, realizing more and more people are throwing their movies away (I recently pulled 67 out of a dumpster at my aunt’s apartment complex) as they fully commit to a digital world, I have put the call out.

I want to retain a piece of my past. I want to build a secret, underground Videoville (I still have the original store sign in the weeds behind my duplex), a solid testament to what once was.

It’ll never be a store again, but it will endure. In some fashion.

Currently the collection sits at 667 DVDs and is growing.

Which is where you, the ones who are still reading at this point (even if you are rolling your eyes), come in.

Do you want to reclaim space in your house again? Have you been enslaved by Netflix and downloads?

Send your movies (rom coms to ’80s slashers, I want ’em all) my way (no VHS, sorry, my duplex is, after all, a duplex and not a 30-room mansion) and I will give them a retirement home with a view of Penn Cove.

Help me honor the past and keep the memory of it alive into the future.

Entrust me with the task of keeping a golden age alive. It is my one true destiny.

DVDs can be dropped any day of the week at Christopher’s on Whidbey (103 NW Coveland in Coupeville, next to the Post Office). Help keep the dream alive!!

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