The Madrona Restaurant’s Display Counter Painting

The following was contributed by Jerry Wennstrom.

I began volunteering at Chinook’s Madrona Restaurant in about 1989. The restaurant had a built-in counter that held the cash register. The counter had the overall shape of a display case, with an unfinished plywood facer boar. In the beginning, I imagined what the plywood would look like painted as if it were full of bakery items. Finally, I decided to actually paint it that way.

I came to Whidbey Island with all the worldly possessions in a small backpack and didn’t include art supplies to do it so I decided to go to the local thrift store to see what house paint I might find. I secured enough paint and brushes to begin the painting and once it I had begun, friends supplied me with the rest of what I needed.

Warm Winds bookstore (run by Doug Potter) was next door to the restaurant and I would often go in and look to old children’s books for inspiration for the painting. Christine Tasseff helped paint on occasion and several other friends who helped run the restaurant became models for some of the characters in the painting. Working in the storage room of the restaurant at quiet times or after the restaurant had closed; the painting was completed in 2 or 3 weeks.

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Here too is an excerpt from my book The Inspired Heart that describes the Madrona Restaurant.

The Chinook Learning Center housed a small restaurant called the Madrona, situated in the little ferry dock town of Clinton, Washington. The Madrona was a non-profit organization created to benefit our local Waldorf school. It was in Chinook’s Dodge Building (now the Clinton Union) and it was staffed by volunteers.

The first time I visited the restaurant, someone asked me if I would like to help in the kitchen. The restaurant had a nice feel, and I loved Jo Shelver, who ran the place then, so I said, “Yes.” I spent that day helping out, meeting people, and working hard, doing endless piles of dirty dishes. As I was leaving, one of the people who worked there asked whether I could fill in on Tuesdays on a regular basis. I fumbled for an answer. A regular schedule had been alien to me for so many years that I did not think I could make that kind of commitment. I lived in the moment, maintaining the ability to leave the ground at any time. That is what my life seemed to ask of me, and I was ever ready for that possibility. Although I wanted to help out, I was not sure at that point that I would even stay on Whidbey Island, so how could I possibly tell anyone I would be somewhere on a regular basis? I said, “ Well, I am here now; if I am here then, I will be.” I showed up that Tuesday, and returned on a regular basis for at least a couple of years. For the most part, I loved the grounding of doing something on a schedule. It was nice to be a component of a world in place, serving hot soup. However, I was uncomfortable at first. I felt so routinely apparent and public. This was more external an expression than I was accustomed to. I once asked a very down-to-earth, pregnant friend if it was hard to be pregnant. She said, “Well, being pregnant makes you very apparent, and everyone knows what you’ve been doing.” That’s a little how I felt working in the restaurant.

The days turned to weeks, and eventually I managed the restaurant. I opened and closed, and recruited volunteers. It became something of a community club. Friends jokingly called the restaurant Jerry’s Baghdad Café, a name taken from a poignant, whimsical film that was out at the time. The Chinook offices were upstairs from the Madrona, and over time I got to know many new people who frequented the restaurant. The restaurant was a place of human interaction, prayer, tears, laughter, and incidentally, good food. I had the freedom to stop what I was doing at any moment and be with someone who needed to talk or go for a walk. I felt that the restaurant was there to serve those human connections. The restaurant needed only to meet its expenses, which it didn’t always do. I gave many a free meal or cup of coffee away, or a special ice cream sundae to children. I loved being able to give! There were no salaries involved; people gave of themselves freely, just because they wanted to be there. Everyone worked hard and created a wonderful community life in an atmosphere of deep, and often ridiculously playful, sharing. Many remarkable people from the extended community helped out at the Madrona, cooking, baking, or doing the books. I served food, washed dishes, and talked to people. For me, as well as for many others, the Madrona was the gateway to the golden city of the larger community of Whidbey Island. To this day, people approach me on the street—often people I don’t remember—to tell me that their first encounter with life on Whidbey Island was at the Madrona Restaurant and that it was such an important connection for them.

Thanks and Blessings, Jerry Wennstrom
http://www.handsofalchemy.com/