It started out much like any other preview feature story:  a local venue, an event of interest to members of the community.  But it started to get a little weird.  And more than a little interesting.

I was previewing the Friday, Jan. 25 set of receptions and book signings in North Tacoma’s Proctor District featuring the two Tacoma-based authors of Arcadia Publishing’s new book, “Tacoma’s Proctor District,” for the Weekly Volcano. And I was interviewing one of those authors, Bill Evans, a former local government office holder and owner of The Pacific Northwest Shop, a Proctor District landmark on the corner of North 27th and Proctor.

There are a lot of memories collected in that book â€" memories of the people, the homes, the businesses, and the spirit of Tacoma’s beloved Proctor District.  It so happens that I was once a member of that community; I spent the first six years of my life living a few block away from 26th and Proctor, and much of my later life finding reasons to return there.

It happened while I was chatting with co-author Bill Evans in the back office of  The Pacific Northwest Shop.  He had been telling me stories of how, since the book had started selling, people had been coming into the shop to buy copies â€" and to talk about their own memories and experiences.  Our interview was interrupted when Evans had to go out into the store to sign a copy of the book that had just been bought by a shopper visiting from Seattle. 

Later, while we were talking about that most recent visitor/customer, his description began ringing bells.  This customer had grown up in the neighborhood, and now lives in Fremont.  Wait a minute â€" she grew up off Proctor and now she lives in Fremont?  Evans then confirmed what I already knew.  One of my closest, lifelong friends and I had returned to the Proctor District at the same moment â€" and she’d been no more than 20 feet away.

But it didn’t end there.  Evans pulled out a photograph as an example of the images he and his co-author had borrowed while researching their Proctor District book.  I studied the photo.  And then it happened again.  1942.  Mason Junior High (a block north of The Pacific Northwest Shop along Proctor).  It was a photo of the graduating class from that year.  I studied the picture.  You see, my mother graduated from Mason Junior High in 1942.  This was her graduating class.  And she was in the picture Evans was showing me.

But I had one more stop on my journey through this North Tacoma land of both shadow and substance.  I had noticed that the Proctor District book didn’t discuss one of the businesses that my 5-year-old self considered the best shopping destination on the planet â€" the Ten Cent Store,” a throwback general store that was later replaced by a (still there) bicycle shop. 

No, Evans admitted, they hadn’t found any photos of the building when it was known by that name, although he knew the building’s history.

“Do you remember the candy counter at the Ten Cent Store?” he asked me suddenly. 

Of course I remembered it.  I had faced it making countless delectable selections.  I had probably drooled on it in anticipation.

“I remember it well,” I answered, now basking in cherished long-ago memories.

“Well it’s here,” Evans said.  “I bought it.  And now I sell candy out of it.”

It was true.  The candy counter from my favorite childhood confectionery/toy/pet supply store of all time is again serving customers in Tacoma’s Proctor District.  I touched it â€" just to renew our acquaintance.  I think it remembered me. â€" Bill Timnick