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Editors' Note: This story contains descriptions of suicide. If you or someone you know might be suicidal, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or call 800.273.8255 (800.273.TALK).  Support groups and grief counseling for survivors can be found throughout the Puget Sound region.Portland writer Kim Stafford has struggled to make sense out of the suicide of his brother Bret for 25 years. Though Bret was just 14 months older, Kim always looked to his brother as a leader and teacher. When he shot himself at age 40 in 1988, nobody in Bret’s family knew how much he was struggling.Members of the Stafford family, even their father and famous poet William Stafford, couldn’t bring themselves to speak or write about Bret's loss. It was largely up to Kim Stafford to break the family silence.  Kim’s new memoir, “100 Tricks Every Boy Can Do:  How My Brother Disappeared,” is the story of his brother’s life and death and its devastating and transformational effect on Kim and his family.Growing up, Kim and Bret Stafford were like twins. They did everything together. They were the rare siblings who never fought. Through high school they shared a room and had a nighttime ritual of blessing one another before going to sleep: “One of us would say, ‘Good night, God bless you, have sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.’ And then the other one would repeat that. That meant the day was over,” recalls Kim.Bret Stafford grew up to became a land-use planner. It was a stressful job with hot-button issues and angry constituents. Bret became increasingly isolated and depressed as he approached age 40. He moved his family from Oregon to a remote region of British Columbia. “Out of sight from the rest of the family, he began to disintegrate there. He went into a depression and stopped sleeping," Kim says. "He tried to take his life there but we didn’t know." Bret wanted to come back to Oregon and was looking for a job. At those job interviews, he was shut down and catatonic.It was in this period of job searching that Bret took his own life at his sister’s house. The Stafford family coped with grief and deep confusion, as they didn’t recognize the intensity of his suffering. According to Kim, Bret's suicide caught the family by surprise.Members of the Stafford family were inconsolable after Bret's death. Even William Stafford, Kim and Bret’s father and an acclaimed poet and man of words, could not speak of his son’s death. “When my brother died, our father went into his study, closed the door and read Wordsworth. When he came out of that room he wouldn’t talk about my brother," Kim recalls. "When people came to console us, he would change the subject and act jolly. He was helpless. He was slain by the event."Against the wishes of some of his family, Kim Stafford decided to break the silence. He missed his brother and he needed to extract some sense of meaning and peace out of the tragedy. The process of writing about and revisiting details and memories of his brother’s life has changed the way that Kim goes forward: “A part of growing up through a violent event like this is that the veil is pulled away and you are suddenly able to see the suffering in the eyes of other people."Bret Stafford, even in death, is still his younger brother Kim’s friend, guide and mentor. Bret even shows up even when Kim Stafford is teaching writing: "If I struggle and am hiding something in my writing, I sometimes write a letter addressed to my brother and then I answer in his voice. He’s like a completely honest dimension of myself. We’re still pals. I still reach out to him.”

Editors' Note: This story contains descriptions of suicide. If you or someone you know might be suicidal, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or call 800.273.8255 (800.273.TALK).  Support groups and grief counseling for survivors can be found throughout the Puget Sound region.Portland writer Kim Stafford has struggled to make sense out of the suicide of his brother Bret for 25 years. Though Bret was just 14 months older, Kim always looked to his brother as a leader and teacher. When he shot himself at age 40 in 1988, nobody in Bret’s family knew how much he was struggling.Members of the Stafford family, even their father and famous poet William Stafford, couldn’t bring themselves to speak or write about Bret's loss. It was largely up to Kim Stafford to break the family silence.  Kim’s new memoir, “100 Tricks Every Boy Can Do:  How My Brother Disappeared,” is the story of his brother’s life and death and its devastating and transformational effect on Kim and his family.Growing up, Kim and Bret Stafford were like twins. They did everything together. They were the rare siblings who never fought. Through high school they shared a room and had a nighttime ritual of blessing one another before going to sleep: “One of us would say, ‘Good night, God bless you, have sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.’ And then the other one would repeat that. That meant the day was over,” recalls Kim.Bret Stafford grew up to became a land-use planner. It was a stressful job with hot-button issues and angry constituents. Bret became increasingly isolated and depressed as he approached age 40. He moved his family from Oregon to a remote region of British Columbia. “Out of sight from the rest of the family, he began to disintegrate there. He went into a depression and stopped sleeping," Kim says. "He tried to take his life there but we didn’t know." Bret wanted to come back to Oregon and was looking for a job. At those job interviews, he was shut down and catatonic.It was in this period of job searching that Bret took his own life at his sister’s house. The Stafford family coped with grief and deep confusion, as they didn’t recognize the intensity of his suffering. According to Kim, Bret's suicide caught the family by surprise.Members of the Stafford family were inconsolable after Bret's death. Even William Stafford, Kim and Bret’s father and an acclaimed poet and man of words, could not speak of his son’s death. “When my brother died, our father went into his study, closed the door and read Wordsworth. When he came out of that room he wouldn’t talk about my brother," Kim recalls. "When people came to console us, he would change the subject and act jolly. He was helpless. He was slain by the event."Against the wishes of some of his family, Kim Stafford decided to break the silence. He missed his brother and he needed to extract some sense of meaning and peace out of the tragedy. The process of writing about and revisiting details and memories of his brother’s life has changed the way that Kim goes forward: “A part of growing up through a violent event like this is that the veil is pulled away and you are suddenly able to see the suffering in the eyes of other people."Bret Stafford, even in death, is still his younger brother Kim’s friend, guide and mentor. Bret even shows up even when Kim Stafford is teaching writing: "If I struggle and am hiding something in my writing, I sometimes write a letter addressed to my brother and then I answer in his voice. He’s like a completely honest dimension of myself. We’re still pals. I still reach out to him.”

Editors' Note: This story contains descriptions of suicide. If you or someone you know might be suicidal, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or call 800.273.8255 (800.273.TALK).  Support groups and grief counseling for survivors can be found throughout the Puget Sound region.Portland writer Kim Stafford has struggled to make sense out of the suicide of his brother Bret for 25 years. Though Bret was just 14 months older, Kim always looked to his brother as a leader and teacher. When he shot himself at age 40 in 1988, nobody in Bret’s family knew how much he was struggling.Members of the Stafford family, even their father and famous poet William Stafford, couldn’t bring themselves to speak or write about Bret's loss. It was largely up to Kim Stafford to break the family silence.  Kim’s new memoir, “100 Tricks Every Boy Can Do:  How My Brother Disappeared,” is the story of his brother’s life and death and its devastating and transformational effect on Kim and his family.Growing up, Kim and Bret Stafford were like twins. They did everything together. They were the rare siblings who never fought. Through high school they shared a room and had a nighttime ritual of blessing one another before going to sleep: “One of us would say, ‘Good night, God bless you, have sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.’ And then the other one would repeat that. That meant the day was over,” recalls Kim.Bret Stafford grew up to became a land-use planner. It was a stressful job with hot-button issues and angry constituents. Bret became increasingly isolated and depressed as he approached age 40. He moved his family from Oregon to a remote region of British Columbia. “Out of sight from the rest of the family, he began to disintegrate there. He went into a depression and stopped sleeping," Kim says. "He tried to take his life there but we didn’t know." Bret wanted to come back to Oregon and was looking for a job. At those job interviews, he was shut down and catatonic.It was in this period of job searching that Bret took his own life at his sister’s house. The Stafford family coped with grief and deep confusion, as they didn’t recognize the intensity of his suffering. According to Kim, Bret's suicide caught the family by surprise.Members of the Stafford family were inconsolable after Bret's death. Even William Stafford, Kim and Bret’s father and an acclaimed poet and man of words, could not speak of his son’s death. “When my brother died, our father went into his study, closed the door and read Wordsworth. When he came out of that room he wouldn’t talk about my brother," Kim recalls. "When people came to console us, he would change the subject and act jolly. He was helpless. He was slain by the event."Against the wishes of some of his family, Kim Stafford decided to break the silence. He missed his brother and he needed to extract some sense of meaning and peace out of the tragedy. The process of writing about and revisiting details and memories of his brother’s life has changed the way that Kim goes forward: “A part of growing up through a violent event like this is that the veil is pulled away and you are suddenly able to see the suffering in the eyes of other people."Bret Stafford, even in death, is still his younger brother Kim’s friend, guide and mentor. Bret even shows up even when Kim Stafford is teaching writing: "If I struggle and am hiding something in my writing, I sometimes write a letter addressed to my brother and then I answer in his voice. He’s like a completely honest dimension of myself. We’re still pals. I still reach out to him.”

Editors' Note: This story contains descriptions of suicide. If you or someone you know might be suicidal, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or call 800.273.8255 (800.273.TALK).  Support groups and grief counseling for survivors can be found throughout the Puget Sound region.Portland writer Kim Stafford has struggled to make sense out of the suicide of his brother Bret for 25 years. Though Bret was just 14 months older, Kim always looked to his brother as a leader and teacher. When he shot himself at age 40 in 1988, nobody in Bret’s family knew how much he was struggling.Members of the Stafford family, even their father and famous poet William Stafford, couldn’t bring themselves to speak or write about Bret's loss. It was largely up to Kim Stafford to break the family silence.  Kim’s new memoir, “100 Tricks Every Boy Can Do:  How My Brother Disappeared,” is the story of his brother’s life and death and its devastating and transformational effect on Kim and his family.Growing up, Kim and Bret Stafford were like twins. They did everything together. They were the rare siblings who never fought. Through high school they shared a room and had a nighttime ritual of blessing one another before going to sleep: “One of us would say, ‘Good night, God bless you, have sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.’ And then the other one would repeat that. That meant the day was over,” recalls Kim.Bret Stafford grew up to became a land-use planner. It was a stressful job with hot-button issues and angry constituents. Bret became increasingly isolated and depressed as he approached age 40. He moved his family from Oregon to a remote region of British Columbia. “Out of sight from the rest of the family, he began to disintegrate there. He went into a depression and stopped sleeping," Kim says. "He tried to take his life there but we didn’t know." Bret wanted to come back to Oregon and was looking for a job. At those job interviews, he was shut down and catatonic.It was in this period of job searching that Bret took his own life at his sister’s house. The Stafford family coped with grief and deep confusion, as they didn’t recognize the intensity of his suffering. According to Kim, Bret's suicide caught the family by surprise.Members of the Stafford family were inconsolable after Bret's death. Even William Stafford, Kim and Bret’s father and an acclaimed poet and man of words, could not speak of his son’s death. “When my brother died, our father went into his study, closed the door and read Wordsworth. When he came out of that room he wouldn’t talk about my brother," Kim recalls. "When people came to console us, he would change the subject and act jolly. He was helpless. He was slain by the event."Against the wishes of some of his family, Kim Stafford decided to break the silence. He missed his brother and he needed to extract some sense of meaning and peace out of the tragedy. The process of writing about and revisiting details and memories of his brother’s life has changed the way that Kim goes forward: “A part of growing up through a violent event like this is that the veil is pulled away and you are suddenly able to see the suffering in the eyes of other people."Bret Stafford, even in death, is still his younger brother Kim’s friend, guide and mentor. Bret even shows up even when Kim Stafford is teaching writing: "If I struggle and am hiding something in my writing, I sometimes write a letter addressed to my brother and then I answer in his voice. He’s like a completely honest dimension of myself. We’re still pals. I still reach out to him.”

Editors' Note: This story contains descriptions of suicide. If you or someone you know might be suicidal, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or call 800.273.8255 (800.273.TALK).  Support groups and grief counseling for survivors can be found throughout the Puget Sound region.Portland writer Kim Stafford has struggled to make sense out of the suicide of his brother Bret for 25 years. Though Bret was just 14 months older, Kim always looked to his brother as a leader and teacher. When he shot himself at age 40 in 1988, nobody in Bret’s family knew how much he was struggling.Members of the Stafford family, even their father and famous poet William Stafford, couldn’t bring themselves to speak or write about Bret's loss. It was largely up to Kim Stafford to break the family silence.  Kim’s new memoir, “100 Tricks Every Boy Can Do:  How My Brother Disappeared,” is the story of his brother’s life and death and its devastating and transformational effect on Kim and his family.Growing up, Kim and Bret Stafford were like twins. They did everything together. They were the rare siblings who never fought. Through high school they shared a room and had a nighttime ritual of blessing one another before going to sleep: “One of us would say, ‘Good night, God bless you, have sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.’ And then the other one would repeat that. That meant the day was over,” recalls Kim.Bret Stafford grew up to became a land-use planner. It was a stressful job with hot-button issues and angry constituents. Bret became increasingly isolated and depressed as he approached age 40. He moved his family from Oregon to a remote region of British Columbia. “Out of sight from the rest of the family, he began to disintegrate there. He went into a depression and stopped sleeping," Kim says. "He tried to take his life there but we didn’t know." Bret wanted to come back to Oregon and was looking for a job. At those job interviews, he was shut down and catatonic.It was in this period of job searching that Bret took his own life at his sister’s house. The Stafford family coped with grief and deep confusion, as they didn’t recognize the intensity of his suffering. According to Kim, Bret's suicide caught the family by surprise.Members of the Stafford family were inconsolable after Bret's death. Even William Stafford, Kim and Bret’s father and an acclaimed poet and man of words, could not speak of his son’s death. “When my brother died, our father went into his study, closed the door and read Wordsworth. When he came out of that room he wouldn’t talk about my brother," Kim recalls. "When people came to console us, he would change the subject and act jolly. He was helpless. He was slain by the event."Against the wishes of some of his family, Kim Stafford decided to break the silence. He missed his brother and he needed to extract some sense of meaning and peace out of the tragedy. The process of writing about and revisiting details and memories of his brother’s life has changed the way that Kim goes forward: “A part of growing up through a violent event like this is that the veil is pulled away and you are suddenly able to see the suffering in the eyes of other people."Bret Stafford, even in death, is still his younger brother Kim’s friend, guide and mentor. Bret even shows up even when Kim Stafford is teaching writing: "If I struggle and am hiding something in my writing, I sometimes write a letter addressed to my brother and then I answer in his voice. He’s like a completely honest dimension of myself. We’re still pals. I still reach out to him.”

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

In childhood, our allegiances, our loves, are often black and white, simplistic. One of the difficult parts of becoming an adult is reconciling ourselves to the failings and flaws in what we have loved and admired. Sometimes the task involves recognizing our own complicity in those failings.Washington State Poet Laureate Kathleen Flenniken's most recent collection, “Plume” (University of Washington Press, 2012) reckons with her own childhood allegiances. She grew up in Richland, Wash., a town next to the Hanford nuclear site. Both she and her father worked at Hanford. She writes from an insider’s perspective, and uses all the poetic means at her disposal to express the complexity of her adult perspective in “Museum of a Lost America” and “Deposition.”From “Museum of a Lost America,” by Kathleen Flenniken:Country of short memory,glass surfaces,and fingerprints easily wiped off.Flenniken’s first book, "Famous" (University of Nebraska, 2006), won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry and was named a Notable Book by the American Library Association and a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. She has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and Artist Trust, a Pushcart Prize, and grants from Artist Trust and the Seattle Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs. Flenniken is one of Seattle Magazine's 2012 Spotlight Award winners.Her reading was recorded in the KUOW Studios on March 23, 2012.As the Washington poet laureate, she promotes the work of the state’s poets on her blog, The Far Field.Hear Flenniken reading poems about the effects of Hanford on the Columbia River, and on families including her own.

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Most people who boarded the luxury ocean liner didn’t survive the trip. For some, the only thing separating survival and drowning was a split-second decision.Now, 100 years after the tragedy, a Seattle woman wonders what she would do if she had been in her relative's shoes on the night of the sinking.A DiscoveryKathleen Kemly grew up in the '60s. Every year in school all the kids had to learn about the Titanic. It was part history unit, part morality lesson. “I think they wanted to impress upon us the hubris of saying this is an unsinkable ship and how nothing is really impossible to destroy,” Kathleen says.Kathleen came home from school and told her mother they were studying the Titanic. That’s when her mom revealed a surprising family connection to the infamous sinking. “I found out I had a great aunt who was actually on the Titanic,” Kathleen says. “Kind of gave me a whole new cred in the classroom.”Kathleen tried to get her Great Aunt Winnie to talk to her class. Winnie had been eight years old when the Titanic sank — the same age as most of Kathleen’s classmates. “But, then we found out Aunt Winnie was quite shy and retiring and didn’t like to talk about it,” Kathleen says.The TapeBut, years later, Kathleen got a tape in the mail. It was a recording of Aunt Winnie telling her story. She popped it into a tape player and a crackly voice filled the room: “My father came to America from England about a year and a half before us. He sent for us, and we booked passage on the supposedly unsinkable Titanic.”“It was really exciting to hear her voice and to think about all those years ago, how it must still be so vivid in her head,” Kathleen remembers. Listening to that tape inspired Kathleen to begin researching and digging beyond the few familiar details of Aunt Winnie’s story that she had heard growing up.Ill LuckIn her research, Kathleen discovered that Winnie’s family wasn’t even supposed to be on the Titanic. Her mother had booked tickets on another ship. But that trip was canceled during a coal strike and Winnie’s mom was issued replacement tickets on the Titanic.“She really wasn’t happy about that,” Kathleen says. “So she went down to the shipping office and said, ‘I want to be on a boat that was tried and tested and true.’ And they said. ‘No, no, no. Don’t worry. This will be great. This is a brand new ship. It’ll be wonderful. You’ll be fine.’”The TragedyThe night of April 14, 1912, Winnie’s mother and two-year-old sister went to bed early. They left the door ajar because the fumes from the fresh paint made Winnie feel seasick. The family was sound asleep in their second-class cabin when, at 11:40 p.m., the Titanic shaved an iceberg in the north Atlantic.Winnie and her slumbering family felt nothing.A bit after midnight, a woman popped her head inside their room. She told Winnie’s mom that there had been an accident and that everyone should get up on deck. But Winnie’s mother wasn’t alarmed. She stayed in bed and didn’t wake her girls. She had no idea that the front of the boat had already filled with 25 feet of water. Or that the band was already playing as lifeboats were being lowered into the freezing Atlantic.A Slow Start“After a while, she decided to get up and just kind of took her time, fussin’ around,” Kathleen says. “She put on a skirt. But she still had her nightgown on and wasn’t really moving.”Then, there was a loud knock on the door. It was the steward of the ship. He popped his head inside the door and was appalled to see Winnie’s mom still in her night clothes with both children fast asleep."For God's sake!" he cried. "Get up! Don't stop to dress. Just get your life belts on. The ship has struck an iceberg. It's sinking!"Just A Few Life Boats LeftSo, Winnie’s mother woke up her girls and bundled them up quickly. They hurried up five flights of stairs to reach the first open-air deck. Winnie’s mom pushed her way to the edge of the railing and looked out over the water.“What she sees is so frightening because the portholes that line the boat are slanting sickeningly into the water,” Kathleen says. "And the water is so dark and so cold, and the night is so cold. That’s when she realizes this is serious and she has to get her family into a lifeboat as quickly as she can.”But there was a problem. There were about 1,800 people still stranded on the Titanic. Many of the life boats had already left. The ones that remained were filling quickly. A crew member had already fired warning shots to keep several men from trying to climb into the boats.Winnie’s Mom pushed her way to the closest life boat: number 11. It was almost full. As they approached, the sailor loading the boat stopped them. “We have room for the children only,” he said.The DecisionWinnie’s mom was forced to make a critical decision in that moment. She pulled her daughters close and, according to Kathleen, said, “No. We all go, or we don’t go at all.” She was risking the life of her children for the sake of the whole family.“It was kind of gutsy and, on the surface, maybe a little self-serving for her to say ‘I’m going, too,’” Kathleen says. “What’s brave in those circumstances? Is it being completely selfless and saying, ‘Yes, just take my kids. Get them off of here. I’ll wait’? Or is it to make sure you’re with them. I’m not sure what the right answer is.”But in those dark hours of night, almost everyone on the Titanic was forced to make huge decisions with no clear right answers. Decisions that would be life-changing. Life-ending. The sailors hadn’t woken up that morning thinking they would have to split families apart — decide who would live and who would drown.“They weren’t going anywhere,” says Kathleen. “For them, it was just this terrible, urgent moment to have to tell people, ‘You can live and you can’t.’ That must have been terrible.”We All Go, Or We Don’t Go At AllThe sailor who was loading life boat 11 now had his own decision to make. Would he let Winnie’s mother into a life boat that was already filled beyond its tested capacity, or would he direct the whole family stay together on the Titanic?He tossed in Winnie. He threw in her two-and-a-half-year-old sister. And then, finally, he let their mother on.Kathleen reports, “As soon as she was on, the crew member said, ‘That’s it. No more can get on this boat. Launch it.'” Life Boat AwayThe crackly voice on Aunt Winnie’s tape continues, “After we were lowered, they told us to row fast, away from the suction of the ship. Later we heard explosions and saw the lights of the ship going out and the cries of the people.”Winnie saw the stern of the Titanic rise up vertically into the night sky. And then, it was gone. Over 1,500 people, including mothers, fathers and babies — whole families were left dying in the freezing water. Winnie and her family were horrified. But alive. “I think my mother was very brave in keeping us together on that ship,” Winnie says.What Would You Do?Now, 100 years later, Kathleen still wonders whether it was right for Winnie’s mom to make that choice, to risk surviving or sinking together as a family. “It’s scary to think that you might have to make a decision like that someday,” she says. “I always wonder how I’d do. You never know. It’s never black and white. You never know what really the right answer is, and I think you can only go with what your gut instinct tells you to do at the time and hope that it’s right.”Aunt Winnie lived to be 95 years old and was among the last five living Titanic survivors. Kathleen Kemly is a Seattle children’s book illustrator and is currently working on a picture book about Aunt Winnie.Thanks to George Behe and the Titanic Historical Society for assistance with this story.http://youtu.be/fGXOMg4efB4Related Links: Article about Winnifred Quick Van Tongerloo by George Behe Video about Winnifred and the Titanic

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Most people who boarded the luxury ocean liner didn’t survive the trip. For some, the only thing separating survival and drowning was a split-second decision.Now, 100 years after the tragedy, a Seattle woman wonders what she would do if she had been in her relative's shoes on the night of the sinking.A DiscoveryKathleen Kemly grew up in the '60s. Every year in school all the kids had to learn about the Titanic. It was part history unit, part morality lesson. “I think they wanted to impress upon us the hubris of saying this is an unsinkable ship and how nothing is really impossible to destroy,” Kathleen says.Kathleen came home from school and told her mother they were studying the Titanic. That’s when her mom revealed a surprising family connection to the infamous sinking. “I found out I had a great aunt who was actually on the Titanic,” Kathleen says. “Kind of gave me a whole new cred in the classroom.”Kathleen tried to get her Great Aunt Winnie to talk to her class. Winnie had been eight years old when the Titanic sank — the same age as most of Kathleen’s classmates. “But, then we found out Aunt Winnie was quite shy and retiring and didn’t like to talk about it,” Kathleen says.The TapeBut, years later, Kathleen got a tape in the mail. It was a recording of Aunt Winnie telling her story. She popped it into a tape player and a crackly voice filled the room: “My father came to America from England about a year and a half before us. He sent for us, and we booked passage on the supposedly unsinkable Titanic.”“It was really exciting to hear her voice and to think about all those years ago, how it must still be so vivid in her head,” Kathleen remembers. Listening to that tape inspired Kathleen to begin researching and digging beyond the few familiar details of Aunt Winnie’s story that she had heard growing up.Ill LuckIn her research, Kathleen discovered that Winnie’s family wasn’t even supposed to be on the Titanic. Her mother had booked tickets on another ship. But that trip was canceled during a coal strike and Winnie’s mom was issued replacement tickets on the Titanic.“She really wasn’t happy about that,” Kathleen says. “So she went down to the shipping office and said, ‘I want to be on a boat that was tried and tested and true.’ And they said. ‘No, no, no. Don’t worry. This will be great. This is a brand new ship. It’ll be wonderful. You’ll be fine.’”The TragedyThe night of April 14, 1912, Winnie’s mother and two-year-old sister went to bed early. They left the door ajar because the fumes from the fresh paint made Winnie feel seasick. The family was sound asleep in their second-class cabin when, at 11:40 p.m., the Titanic shaved an iceberg in the north Atlantic.Winnie and her slumbering family felt nothing.A bit after midnight, a woman popped her head inside their room. She told Winnie’s mom that there had been an accident and that everyone should get up on deck. But Winnie’s mother wasn’t alarmed. She stayed in bed and didn’t wake her girls. She had no idea that the front of the boat had already filled with 25 feet of water. Or that the band was already playing as lifeboats were being lowered into the freezing Atlantic.A Slow Start“After a while, she decided to get up and just kind of took her time, fussin’ around,” Kathleen says. “She put on a skirt. But she still had her nightgown on and wasn’t really moving.”Then, there was a loud knock on the door. It was the steward of the ship. He popped his head inside the door and was appalled to see Winnie’s mom still in her night clothes with both children fast asleep."For God's sake!" he cried. "Get up! Don't stop to dress. Just get your life belts on. The ship has struck an iceberg. It's sinking!"Just A Few Life Boats LeftSo, Winnie’s mother woke up her girls and bundled them up quickly. They hurried up five flights of stairs to reach the first open-air deck. Winnie’s mom pushed her way to the edge of the railing and looked out over the water.“What she sees is so frightening because the portholes that line the boat are slanting sickeningly into the water,” Kathleen says. "And the water is so dark and so cold, and the night is so cold. That’s when she realizes this is serious and she has to get her family into a lifeboat as quickly as she can.”But there was a problem. There were about 1,800 people still stranded on the Titanic. Many of the life boats had already left. The ones that remained were filling quickly. A crew member had already fired warning shots to keep several men from trying to climb into the boats.Winnie’s Mom pushed her way to the closest life boat: number 11. It was almost full. As they approached, the sailor loading the boat stopped them. “We have room for the children only,” he said.The DecisionWinnie’s mom was forced to make a critical decision in that moment. She pulled her daughters close and, according to Kathleen, said, “No. We all go, or we don’t go at all.” She was risking the life of her children for the sake of the whole family.“It was kind of gutsy and, on the surface, maybe a little self-serving for her to say ‘I’m going, too,’” Kathleen says. “What’s brave in those circumstances? Is it being completely selfless and saying, ‘Yes, just take my kids. Get them off of here. I’ll wait’? Or is it to make sure you’re with them. I’m not sure what the right answer is.”But in those dark hours of night, almost everyone on the Titanic was forced to make huge decisions with no clear right answers. Decisions that would be life-changing. Life-ending. The sailors hadn’t woken up that morning thinking they would have to split families apart — decide who would live and who would drown.“They weren’t going anywhere,” says Kathleen. “For them, it was just this terrible, urgent moment to have to tell people, ‘You can live and you can’t.’ That must have been terrible.”We All Go, Or We Don’t Go At AllThe sailor who was loading life boat 11 now had his own decision to make. Would he let Winnie’s mother into a life boat that was already filled beyond its tested capacity, or would he direct the whole family stay together on the Titanic?He tossed in Winnie. He threw in her two-and-a-half-year-old sister. And then, finally, he let their mother on.Kathleen reports, “As soon as she was on, the crew member said, ‘That’s it. No more can get on this boat. Launch it.'” Life Boat AwayThe crackly voice on Aunt Winnie’s tape continues, “After we were lowered, they told us to row fast, away from the suction of the ship. Later we heard explosions and saw the lights of the ship going out and the cries of the people.”Winnie saw the stern of the Titanic rise up vertically into the night sky. And then, it was gone. Over 1,500 people, including mothers, fathers and babies — whole families were left dying in the freezing water. Winnie and her family were horrified. But alive. “I think my mother was very brave in keeping us together on that ship,” Winnie says.What Would You Do?Now, 100 years later, Kathleen still wonders whether it was right for Winnie’s mom to make that choice, to risk surviving or sinking together as a family. “It’s scary to think that you might have to make a decision like that someday,” she says. “I always wonder how I’d do. You never know. It’s never black and white. You never know what really the right answer is, and I think you can only go with what your gut instinct tells you to do at the time and hope that it’s right.”Aunt Winnie lived to be 95 years old and was among the last five living Titanic survivors. Kathleen Kemly is a Seattle children’s book illustrator and is currently working on a picture book about Aunt Winnie.Thanks to George Behe and the Titanic Historical Society for assistance with this story.http://youtu.be/fGXOMg4efB4Related Links: Article about Winnifred Quick Van Tongerloo by George Behe Video about Winnifred and the Titanic