The Great Bread Exchange

When I first moved to Seattle in 1996, I had no idea how daunting it would be to move to an enormous city, 3000 miles from home, and not know a soul. I found a wonderful little one-bedroom bungalow with a spectacular view of the Mt. Rainier and all the Cascade Mountains. This stunning view of nature was truly solace for my soul; however, I longed to have some friendships as well.
So.... I started baking bread: zucchini bread, banana bread, French baguettes, you name it.
I could not wait for the neighbors to welcome me, which might not ever happen in a large anonymous city like Seattle. Instead, every few days, I knocked on a new door and made a new acquaintance. I made my first real friend in Seattle this way, a single mom who lived across the street from me.
I also got to know two of the most interesting women I would ever meet. Two of my neighbors were elderly African American women who lived side by side. One of them, it turns out, was an original Rosie the Riveter. She came all the way to Seattle from the South during World War II to become a welder for the war effort, and never left. Later, she raised her family there.
I visited with these two women regularly and hearing their stories about leaving their homes so far away and making a new life in Seattle made me feel more confident about my own choices. I also got to taste and enjoy some of their bread recipes.
Now, I am not saying it was easy to go door to door with my meager offering of homemade bread. On the contrary, before each outing, I had to ready myself with lots of deep bracing and a little pep talk. But, in the end we all benefited from the great bread exchange: I got to meet my neighbors and make friends, they got to share their stories from their past, and we all got to eat some yummy bread!