Easter

Camellia blossom

Judy's tulips in the rain

     The crescendo of birdsong fades just as the light is coming up.  The lawn across the cul-de-sac looks like it is frosted, but the rime is just heavy dew on thick, thick grass.   The sun shines on  the andromeda and through the top of the Sequoia.  The camellia outside our window is in full bloom, and grape hyacinths invade the yard in a riot of purple.  The earth smells wonderful.

Me in a choir robe?

     At Easter I joined the church choir to add my voice to the Hallelujah Chorus. We sat facing the congregation.  They were stony-faced during the long sermon about transformation, but when the Hallelujahs  began, they smiled  and sang along. I saw a few tears.

Rob and Hattie

       After church we went to Janet's sister Nancy's for lunch.  Nancy and Rob live in the country, 15 minutes from here.  In addition to teaching and driving truck, they raise a few cattle for freezer beef, and tend a small orchard.  Janet and Robert were there, and their daughter and son-in-law, Kelli and Randy. Janet and Nancy's parents came, and Robert brought his mother in from her memory care unit.  Family friend Beverly and her brother, both in their 90s, entertained us with stories of growing up in North Dakota.  Carol, a former colleague of Nancy's, talked abut her volunteer work and her home maintenance adventures.  Rob's daughter Abby came in  towards the end. The true guests of honor were Nancy's granddaughters, Annie and Hattie, along with their parents.  It is a rare treat for Nancy and Rob to see the girls, and they savored every minute.

Waunita's Easter cake

     I grew up with large family dinners at holidays, always with  singletons and family friends folded in.  Here in Oregon, where Judy and I have no blood relations, I am  grateful to the clans who include us as family in their gatherings.

Orchid from Janet

     On our kitchen windowsill, cuttings of daphne odora from Nancy's front yard are rooting.  The fabulous scent fills the house.  The morning light shines through the orchid on our dining room table, now in its second year of bloom.  Some days it doesn't rain.  It's finally spring.

Manzanita vacation

  

Sunset at Manzanita

     Judy and I went to the Oregon Coast last week with Rose and John, their daughter Jessamy, her husband Rob, their three children Josh, Megan, and Jamie, and the lovely dog Bree.  We stayed in a house with glorious views. Out the front windows we saw the sand and the ocean and the sky, and out the side windows we looked up at Neahkahnie Mountain.  In the early morning light and at sunset we could see the spouts of the gray whales migrating up the coast.

Rob and Bree

     We watched Josh ride his skim board at low tide, and Megan and Jamie jump puddles.  John and Rob took long bike ride in Nehalem Bay State Park, where John saw seals in the water.  Bree and Rob took long walks exploring the beach.

     We played  games.  The math whizzes among us played a "simple" game where you make the numbers on four dice equal the number on two others, using any combination of functions:  addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, factors or factorials.  Got that?  I didn't either.  

Josh and Megan play pinball

Megan and Judy play Look! Look!

Jess and Jamie play speed Scrabble

Rob and Bree

    There was lots of reading going on, and we finished some puzzles.  Jess, Rose, and Judy made fantastic food.  Megan taught me to fold paper to make a fortune teller like the ones we made in grade school.

Jamie and John 

Megan

      

We had a leisurely  discussion about a name for David and Courtney's new baby girl, due in May.  Megan and Jamie have read a series of books called Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and that led them to suggest Greek names.  Artemis?  Thalia?  John suggested Zorba.  Jamie, who is just beginning to read, had a good idea.  She found her fairy book, and said, "There are lots of names in here."  She went though the book and picked out the proper names. We tried each one out.  Fawn? Fern? Daisy?

Judy and Bree

   My friend Sheila Sullivan came down for the day on Friday.  Rose and Sheila and I walked through the fine shops  on Manzanita's one commercial street.  As we looked at the expensive baby clothes made of soft cotton and bamboo, I hesitated to buy. "Maybe I'll come back tomorrow, " I hemmed and hawed. "Why?" Sheila nudged.    Three Sullivan sisters browsing; how I wished there were more!

Jess

   We took plenty of time for just gazing out the windows and being lost in thought.

Jamie

 Mostly we enjoyed the beauty and delighted in each other's company.

Josh and Jamie

Local history

Sara partying

       I have been interested in local history since I worked as a librarian/archivist  for Sara Collins at the Arlington Public Library.   Sara's keen intellect and avid search for materials formed our  local history library.  Her spirit and commitment  helped to create and support a community of productive scholars.  Sara got me hooked on finding out as much as I can about the place where I live.  Now that I live in Oregon, I am enjoying lots of fine presentations about the lives of our Portland forbears. One of the best events is the History Pub at the McMenamin's Kennedy School.

Kennedy School

Kennedy school ca. 1920

     The McMenamin brothers buy old buildings, renovate them, and re-purpose them as brewpubs, music venues, historic hotels, restaurants, and theatre pubs.   They have a historian  on staff who researches the past of the buildings.  The whimsical art  that decorates the newly renovated buildings is an expression of the place's history. The McMenamins turned  the Kennedy School, an elementary school built in 1915, into a hotel, movie theater, and premier gathering place.
     McMenamins venues are home to very popular science, history, and classical music pubs.   The free monthly History Pub at the Kennedy School  features speakers and panels about aspects of Oregon's history that are somewhat outside of mainstream history.  I have heard panels of survivors of the Vanport flood, an overview of  Oregon's outlaws, elders remembering neighborhoods razed for urban renewal, feminist  legislators from  the 1970s, a survey of African-American murals in Portland, etc.

Central Library, Portland

Spindrift

     On Monday old friends and coworkers met at the History Pub  to hear about a great Oregon librarian, Mary Frances Isom.  In what had been the  school's auditorium, we settled into comfortable couches with our good pub food  and prepared to be edified.  We knew about Mary Frances, of course.  She came to the Library Association of Portland in 1901.  Before her death in 1920 she had built the Central library, along with 16 branch libraries and a complex service network involving 146 schools and 65 other agencies.   She left money to start a pension fund for her staff.  And she built Spindrift, the cottage at the Oregon coast, which was bequeathed to the library staff.  A hundred years later, the staff still owns and enjoys the cottage.

Mary Frances Isom

      Mary Frances was a wealthy woman, who had a dressmaker come to her house once a week. She  relied on her Swedish housekeeper to maintain a large house and help her entertain.  (Isn't that what we all want, a wife?)  She was  able to take vacations for months at a time  She was one of a small group of progressive civic and artistic leaders who transformed Portland.
     In other words,  Mary Frances was not like us.  But the speaker teared up when she quoted Mary Frances about the value of public libraries in the life of a community.  So did many of the  librarians in the audience.  We are not all movers and shakers, but we have all been part of a noble endeavor.
    

Life and taxes

Snow on plum blossoms

     Its spring, it's snowing, and I'm doing the taxes.  Our taxes are conventional; regular, W-2 sources of income, mortgage, medical and charitable deductions.  It is simple, but not easy, because I have to run the same forms again and again, as if.
     For the feds, Judy and I must file separately.  Following the Defense of Marriage Act, our finances and lives cannot be considered joined for any federally-governed  program including Social Security, Medicare supplemental insurance and, of course income taxes.  So how do we  handle the deductions? Split them down the middle?  One of us  take all and the other take the standard deduction?  Which one should take the standard deduction? And be sure to keep those medical deductions absolutely separate. I calculate three variations of the same Schedule A.  Then it really gets good.

Voting NO means yes, build the library

     We send to the State of Oregon  the federal returns we really sent in to the IRS, plus another, pretend  federal return which we  actually have to mark AS IF.  As if we could file as married filing jointly or married filing separately.  So I run  the same small numbers twice more, and choose one AS IF federal form  on which to base our joint Oregon return.

Voting Yes means  no, don't build the library

     In Clackamas County we voted a few years ago to raise our property taxes permanently in order to fund public libraries.  Part of the deal included plans for a big modern  library to be built in Gladstone, a mile and half from our house. I served on one of the many committees to plan the services and design for the new library.  The site has been selected, the plans drawn and approved, but now there is a tax revolt in the City of Gladstone.  The Save Gladstone ( from a library?) Committee has succeeded in  getting a charter amendment measure onto the May ballot that would stop the new library from being built.

Brendan dancing

Magnificat

    
     What can you do but laugh?  Dancing and singing also help.   Our friend Nicole's son is a fine Irish dancer, who will compete internationally in Belfast at Easter.  Brendan and his Comerford Schol of Irish Dance entertained  us on St. Patrick's day.
      The Francis Street Singers performed Perti's Magnificat on Tuesday. We sang,  "Magnificat anima mea Dominum," meaning, "My soul magnifies  the Lord." Doesn't everybody's?
  
    

A visit from Cousin Peter

Peter and Judy at the Blue Kangaroo

     Last week we had four bright, dry, clear days, perfect for  showing my cousin Peter some of the sights of our fair state.  Peter arrived by train from Maryland, full of stories from his three days of coach travel with the general public. After a hearty lunch  I took him on a short drive around the rolling countryside of Clackamas County.  Whenever Peter's head swiveled and he exclaimed "Oh!" I knew he had spotted another 40- or 50- year old car. The next day he explored  antique and junk shops of Sellwood, and we introduced him to Northwest coffee house culture.

Library cottage

Yuppie cowboy

At Ecola State Park

    On Thursday we drove to the coast. Peter the movie buff thought that the view of Haystack Rock was so perfect that it was time to cue the whales.  At Mo's, he asked if it was OK to lick the bowl after he finished his clam chowder.  "Of, course"we said. "This is Oregon."  (He  didn't.) 

      We showed him the Library Cottage,  built a hundred years ago by one of our first head librarians, and willed to her beloved staff "for their rest and recreation."  Later we watched a cowboy ride up and down the main streets of Cannon Beach. 

Prettier than the Grand Canyon

Wahkeena Falls

From the sublime to the ridiculous

      On Friday we drove up the Columbia Gorge, and feasted our eyes on vistas and waterfalls.  We ate lunch at  the Charburger in Cascade Locks.  As we sat overlooking the Columbia River  I hoped to show Peter some barges, but we didn't see one vessel  on the water.  Then back to Milwaukie, where Peter asked about something I don't even take note of any more: the Bomber Restaurant.  After dinner on Friday night Peter  tried mightily and gracefully not to outclass me completely at Scrabble. 

Treasure hunting at Powell's

      On Saturday the weather returned to our typical March gray and rain, perfect for poking around Powell's bookstore.  Peter found the perfect souvenirs: two  books about model railroading written by his father in the 1950s.  Then it was time to say goodbye and put him on the northbound train.
     You too, family and friends, can bring sunshine to our gray days.  Come visit. 

   

    

     

Friends old and new

  

Roxy with quick and dirty

Roxy

        For her birthday my friend  Roxie invited  us  to a piece-a palooza, stash-busting soiree. We made quilts for Medical Teams International, which sends doctors and nurses to disaster areas.  Roxie has provided them with what she calls "quick-and-dirty" quilts for years.

        Judy and Donna played their autoharps for background music, and we munched on birthday cake and fudge.  Roxie declared that we had to eat fudge while piecing these quilts, because you always need a fudge factor.

Ripping the strips

Pinning front to back

     Three women brought their fabric stashes, and Galadriel sorted the material into piles by colors.  Barb and Pat carefully measured six-inch notches in the fabric, and then Hallie, Jessie and Pilar ripped the fabric into long pieces.  We laid the strips out onto  old blankets for stuffing and old sheets for backing.  "Don't get all artistic on me," Roxie would call out.  "This is quick and dirty."

     Rose, Lynne, Galadriel, and Roxie kept the sewing machines whirring as they sewed the strips together side by side.  Sometimes we would hear Lynn or Roxie in their rich contraltos singing along with the autoharp music.   Roxie and the teens pinned the tops to the filling and backing, and the sewing machine hummed again fastening the parts of the quilts together.   At the end of the day we had three fine quilts ready to be tied.

Lynne stitching

Barb tying

      Roxie has a gift for gracious living in Milwaukie.  While we ate pizza and fudge and laid out quilts on the floor, we also had a bonnet-shaped birthday cake made from the strawberry jam from her favorite breakfast place.  We drank our tea from elaborate china cups which Roxie then sent home with us as party favors.

Tea at Roxy's

       Roxie also has a gift for friendship.  She  attracts  good, strong, interesting people and nurtures the relationships over years.  Every month we gather at her beautifully spread table for a knitters' tea.    I meet women from her college crowd,  those she worked with at Pendleton when she was a weaver of prototype designs, fellow writers, former church workers, and new yarn buddies she connects with through her blog.  The conversation is rich and funny passionate, the closest thing I know to breakfast with my old heart friends back East.

 

Barbarian at the gate

  

Happy Birthday, Maxine

       I shamelessly invited myself to Texas to celebrate Maxine's  birthday.  My plane to College Station got in a little late on Thursday, enough time for Maxine to tell everybody in the small waiting area that "I'm going to be 4!  Grandma Maggie is coming and I'm going to be 4!"

Family birthday

Beautiful Barbie hair

      On Friday night after dinner we celebrated Maxine's family birthday with cupcakes and bubble agua  in wine glasses while we waited for David to arrive home from Cincinnati.  Then Maxine opened some presents, including hair braids that my friend Sheila just had to send.  Maxine got a Barbie doll from her teacher, and started to call the hair braids, "My beautiful Barbie hair."

Scribe

       Maxine has discovered letters, which now appear  everywhere in her world.  When we walked past a house with fake half-timbers on the upper eaves she was excited. "Look, there's an N on that house!"  She worked hard copying out the words Happy Birthday onto  card stock.  We made cards to give  Mommy and Nathan and Jacob when their birthdays happen.
      Saturday morning was busy with preparations for her party, to be held that afternoon at the local Children's Museum.  Lost of bustle, and then a short nap.  Maxine, dragged out of sleep, did NOT like the dress her Mom had picked out for her, or any other dress in her closet.  Getting her to the party required not one but two stories.
       I told  about one Christmas when I was little girl getting dressed for church, and my dress was scratchy.  I started crying, and then Rosie started crying, and then Eileen, and then Vonnie, and then baby Donnie. Our dad said, "Now I've got them all crying."
      I also told her about how real princesses never get to pick out their own clothes. Princess Esmeralda not only couldn't choose her own clothes, but the Queen would not let anybody wear pink.  Esmeralda had quite an adventure the day that she was wearing her pink underpants with monster trucks on them and the horse got frightened by lightning.  The horse bolted.  Esmeralda and the Queen were in the carriage that was dragged though a huge, stinky, muddy pond.  Oh, dear, how could Esmeralda change out of her muddy, stinky, cold clothes without the Queen's seeing her pink underpants?

     By the time we got to the Children's Museum, the birthday girl was ready to celebrate. Her cake had both a Princess and a Buzz Lightyear theme.

Maggie and Donnie with baby doll

Now, you stand there

     On Sunday  my  brother Don and sister -in-law Mary drove up from the Woodlands.  Maxine coached her father and great uncle in backyard soccer, and discussed doll baby care with Mary.  Don and Mary are deep into college selection and financing for their four teenagers.

Reading Fancy Nancy

     Monday was a quiet day at home for Maxine and me.  She did not want to go out, only to play at home. She wanted to run and run around the yard, and to sit on the swing on the neighbor's front porch and ring their doorbell so I could meet them.  There was plenty of time for hiding slippers, doing crafts, and reading stories.
     Claire Dederer, in her book Poser: My Life in Twenty-three Yoga Poses, describes a party where her mother and father and her husband's Bruce's parents and cousins and relatives all flowed in and out, celebrating Halloween with Claire's new baby.  There was some discussion about the house for sale directly behind them. Dederer says, "My mom might buy the house.  You never knew.  My mom and Bruce's mom, all the moms, were like barbarians at the gates.  Their need for the baby's proximity was huge; it was the most important thing in my mother's life."

Aunt Sister

     On the plane home, I got to thinking about my Aunt Sister and my Uncle Flurry, the only two left of my parents' generation.  Aunt Sister will be ninety in May, and Uncle Flurry will be eighty.   They are the last two people who have known me since my birth, and who still treat me like I am the best thing since sliced bread.  Maybe it is not such a bad thing to be a barbarian at the gate.