Visiting

    We arrived  at Vonnie's house in Maryland a few days before we needed to go to the beach at Rehoboth.  Judy, who had done well without supplemental oxygen on the cross-country flight, still needed to use those days for recovery.   I used them for visiting.

Mary and new barn

Jeremy's woodshop with Shep

        John Bridge programmed his GPS to help me get to Mary and Jeremys' farm in southern Pennsylvania.  As I drove though the rolling  hills in Vonnie and Ernie's luxurious Toyota Avalon, I felt confident that I wouldn't miss my turn, thanks to that GPS.   I was eager to see what changes my friends had made to their place in the last few years.

         Their new barn is a work of art.  Jeremy has his woodshop on the first floor, and space for beekeeping  classes on the second.  He was putting the finishing touches on a beehive-shaped sandbox for grandson Owen's second birthday.  Mary planned to paint chickens on it.    Jeremy showed me the  fairy playhouse that he had cut  throughout a weeping cherry tree for granddaughter Norah.

Mary and Carol

Happy

      We ate lunch in their gazebo, looking out at  the flowers and fishpond.  Hummingbird moths were working the blossoms, and  a breeze was blowing the corn in a neighboring field. Old friends Rita and Carol  joined us.  Mary served  white beets, cucumbers in yoghurt and cabbage salad, all from her garden, along with chicken salad and berries.  I soaked up the beauty of the place and laughed with the friends of my heart.
     The next day I took the Amtrak train to Newark, and from there a taxi to my Aunt Sister's house in Rutherford.  Aunt Sister, at 90, still changes her slipcovers, curtains, and bedspreads every spring and fall.  I climbed onto her step ladder while she stood on a hassock to put the living room valance in place above her picture window.
       My Uncle Flurry and his wife Marie came over to drive us to a nearby diner.  The smart, sassy waitress swore she remembered me from last year, and flirted mightily with Uncle Flurry.  We ate omelets and BLTs and drank diner coffee.  Uncle Flurry, who at age 80 has been losing weight, struggled to finish his grilled cheese sandwich.  He is a genial, sociable man, an Irish tenor who  sings and tells funny stories at wedding receptions.  At lunch he seemed to be  turned inward, to  be cracking jokes by effort of will.  He said  summing-up pronouncements to me, like, "You've raised two fine boys;  they are both good men."

Aunt Sister and Uncle Flurry

     To get back to Aunt Sister's house Uncle Flurry drove warily while Aunt Sister and Marie shouted back and forth and guessed at what each other was saying.  Aunt Sis asked that we stop at her church. She has been telling me by phone about the renovations to the church, how the entrance is now around the corner, how beautiful the new wing is.  Uncle Flurry elected to stay in the car, but said to me as I got out to see the building, "Don't forget to make a wish. You're supposed to make a wish  every time you go into a new church."
     The new church has a large anteroom, plenty of space for gathering and chatting .   Aunt Sis pointed to a statue on our right, with  tall votive candles burning in front of it.  "I have Donal and Mary and Helen and Eileen over there," she said.
    Then, gesturing  to the statue and candles on our left, "I have Flurry and Marie over there, because they have been so sick.  That's St. Jude, you know."
       In the sanctuary she pointed out the stained glass windows that were brought over  from the old church, and the stations of the cross.  "Helen and I decorated one of the stations, I forget which one."
       Aunt Sister does not often mix up words, and I was confused.  "How did you decorate it?"  I asked.
     "I mean donate,"  she said.
      I made my wish:  I hoped that I could find some way to express my gratitude.

    

Rehoboth

The fleet

      It's 7:30 in the morning in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and I've just had the Washington Post delivered by happy relatives riding on  a flotilla  of bicycles.  Bother-in-law John Bridge leads, with Jamie on a tagalong.  Josh, Megan, and Jack all ride their own bikes. Paul has Charlie on a tagalong, and Tina has little Sammy in a child's seat.  This crew stops at  Lingo's Market to buy 7 newspapers and a bag of muffins.  Then they begin deliveries to some of the houses that my family rents for its annual beach week.  Jack is careful to place the papers on the back porch or the side porch or wherever his  aunts would like them.
     First they stop at the little house that Judy and I have.  Then around the corner to my cousin Andy's.  Down the street to sister Siobhan's, back toward the ocean  to sister Florrie's, then to Paul and Tina's.  They deliver the New York Times to cousin  Deke's,  and end up at  sister Rose's to eat the muffins.

Cole bartending

Judy and Rob

     My family has been gathering at Rehoboth for more than 35 years.  At first we were contained in two houses, side by side, that my mother and her sister  Auntie Ellen rented.  In our house were my mother and father, my sons David and Paul, and I,  Rose and John and their children Jessamy and Jacob, Eileen, Florrie, Vonnie, and my little brother Donnie.  My father's sisters, Aunt Sister and Aunt Helen, would drive down from New Jersey with my young cousin Danny.
     Next door at Auntie Ellen's house, Uncle John would be whistling and working on his model train layouts.  Deke, Peter, Andy, and Mary Ellen were there, along with Mary Ellen's dog.
     Got that?  Now multiply for spouses and add children and grandchildren.

1939 sophistication

Vonnie

     Last night Vonnie and Ernie started what will surely be a new beach tradition:  a fancy cocktail and dance party.  Rose's son Jacob,  Vonnie's son Cole, and Paul's wife Tina were the bartenders.  Jacob brought with him the book of drinks recipes, copyright 1939, that had lived for 40 years on my father's bar in our basement rec room.  Jacob and Cole agreed that Grandpa probably never made most of the drinks in the book; it was always a  Manhattan  for Aunt Helen, gin for Auntie Ellen, highballs for the men.  The drinks at our cocktail party were much fancier.

Dancing

     Ernie chose the music, which  led off with Seventy -six Trombones and progressed to disco and Motown.  Coles' wife Bianca led the dancing.  She was  followed soon by Deke's wife Shirley,  and then the little kids.  Three-year old Sammy led me onto the dance floor.  Vonnie and Ernie did the jitterbug.  Soon people were snaking around the room.   Jack, age 8, and Megan, 11, joined in the line dancing.  Judy and Jessamy's husband Rob were happy to observe from the couch. At first Lucy and Jamie watched from their grandmother's lap, and then they gave it a whirl.
    There were 44 of us at the cocktail and dance party.  I know, because Florrie gave Jack and Charlie $5 to count us.  It took them a while to get preliminary estimates, and then longer to agree on a number.  The challenge occupied them for about an hour, and then they began to dance.

Jamie, Rose, Lucy

    

Independence

Front yard fireworks

       Summer finally began here on the fourth of July.  It has been so cool and rainy that we joke that autumn will begin on July fifth.  But for Independence Day, the weather was clear and temperatures climbed into the high seventies. Our short barbecue season began.
     At Karin and Leslie's first party of the season, we  pored over the Danish version of People magazine  to see photos of Karin's sister marrying a Danish count.   There were our friends, dressed up and beaming on the lawn of a big old house, surrounded by royalty.  The middle-aged bride and groom looked happy and hopeful. Karin's mother was not able to make the trip to Copenhagen for the wedding.  At the barbecue she was hugging the album of photos  taken by her old neighbor Bernie, who did fly to Denmark to witness the happy event.
    We then drove to Lois and Chuck's for a picnic and hootenanny.  We sat in the shade of a huge tree, surrounded by hydrangeas in bloom, and made music.  There were four guitars, a banjo, a harmonica, Judy on her autoharp and Lois on her accordion, and lots of voices.  We had a little slowness between songs as we tried to come together on chords, until a little girl in Oshkosh overalls joined us. She knew the words to "This Land is Your Land", and asked for "the rainbow song."  So we all sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow,"and then Chuck did "Rainbow Connection" in the voice of Kermit the frog.  We taught the little girl "Zip-A-Dee-Doo -Dah" and "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?" She could sing along by the last chorus of each song.  All too soon evening came, and we headed back home for the best part of the day.

Robert reads Declaration of Independence

Kelli and her grandmother light sparklers

     As we got closer to Milwaukie, the patches of smoke from neighborhood fireworks got thicker and more frequent.  Our driveway was packed with neighbors' cars, and the Janet and Robert were setting up their yard and driveway for  pyrothecnics.  As the sun went down, Robert read the Declaration of Independence.  We huddled with sweatshirts and blankets to listen to Sousa marches while Robert and his co-conspirators lit off fireworks.  "Only legal fireworks,"  Janet insisted, and held the line against her brother-in-law's pleading to set off just a few that flew.   We all missed Bart, our neighbor who has Down syndrome, and who usually joins us for the show.  Bart was sick this year.  Robert turned the ladder that held the  explosives so that Bart could see the grand finale out his window.  As we gathered up our lawn chairs and crossed the lawn to home, Bart's mother flicked her porch lights in thanks.
     The rockets' red glare went on for hours all around us. Huge umbrellas of colored light exploded high in the sky.   Aerial fireworks were set off from the block behind us,  from just beyond the greenway to our south,  from the schoolyard six blocks to our north and all along the river to our west. Totally illegal and great fun.
  

Seventy

Pterodactyl decade**

    

Judy with black elderberry

   

Agatha Christie room

     My lady Judy turned seventy last week.   To celebrate we went to Newport, on the Oregon Coast.  Judy lived in Newport in the 1990s, and has fond memories of her time there.
      We stayed at the Sylvia Beach Hotel, a  Newport institution.  Twenty- five year ago, a bookish woman from Portland  bought and renovated an old, rundown single- room- occupancy hotel on the Nye Beach shore.  She asked her friends to help her decorate each room in the style of favorite authors.  Today, there is the Mark Twain room, the Colette room, the Dr. Seuss room, the Alice Walker room, etc.  The Poe room has a pendulum suspended over the bed.  The Ken Kesey room is spare and insititutional, with 4 cots covered in khaki blankets, and hospital charts on clipboards at the foot of each bed.

Relaxing with a modern book (Nook)

    Our room was the Agatha Christie room, full of chintz and hunting prints.  A  succession of clues hidden in the room and the bath led us to unravel the mystery of the missing Agatha.  The prize was a photo of Agatha, # 6 in the line of hotel cats, all named Agatha.  The bookshelves held the complete works of Agatha Christie, donated by Murder by the Book, a specialty bookstore in Portland.
     Dinner at the hotel restaurant, the Table of Contents, is seated and served family style.  We ate with six strangers who soon became delightful acquaintances as we played the traditional round of "Two Truths and a Lie."  When you are  "it" in this game, you tell the group three things about yourself.  Two are true and one is a lie.  Each member of the group then gets to ask you three questions to help her guess which statements are true and which is a lie.  You have to answer questions about the truths truthfully, but you can lie all you want to about the lie.  Each player then tries to identify your lie.  If you fool the entire table, you get a standing ovation.  Judy got a standing ovation for her three statements:  that she was a sharpshooter in the military, that she is a retired physician who worked with the homeless, and that she once swam with sting rays.

Fishing boats at Newport

     Newport is a working harbor, with seiners and gill netters and crabbing boats going in and out.  The murals on the wide walls of the fish processing plants depict the dangers and the terrors of life on the water.  Big orange helicopters from the Coast Guard Station are a common sight.  Judy and I lingered with our coffee overlooking the marina, and she reminisced about the boat she once had berthed there.

Heron

      When Judy had had her fill of boats,  we drove slowly around Yaquina Bay and up the river to Toledo. Judy's eagle eye spotted wildlife.  Three deer sauntered and then leapt across the road.   We saw cormorants  and kingfishers and many herons sitting in the tide flats.  It was idyllic.
     Then we drove round a bend into Toledo.  We saw and smelled   the Georgia-Paper Mill where Judy once worked as a medical and safety officer.  When I first encountered the plant in 1996, it made me think of Dante's Inferno. 

Backroads Oregon

      After leaving Toledo, we drove on back roads to Salem and then home to Portland,  enjoying the green of our Oregon summer.

We two

Hope

     On Tuesday Judy's pulmonologist  told us that her new CT scan showed that she has a subtype of pulmonary fibrosis that has a better outlook than the Usual Interstitial Pneumonia.  While the disease still has no cure,  people with Judy's type (Non-Specific Interstitial Pneumonitis) tend to live longer.  Instead of going downhill on a steady slope like people with UIP do, those with NSIP have long plateaus, with steep declines leading to the next (we hope long) plateau.  They go down in stair steps.  This is an improved prognosis inside a grim diagnosis.  Meanwhile, life is to savor.

** You might be a dinosaur, but you can still fly.

Celebrations

Lisa's garden

      My friend Lisa throws a garden party every year to celebrate the summer solstice.  We sit in her lush gardens and enjoy the deep green and clear light.  I think of "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day." Lisa's husband Bob is a mechanic who restores classic cars.  The table heavy with our potluck dishes is set up in his open-sided garage, sharing the space with a half- rebuilt Chevy.  As the sun goes down, the air gets chilly, and Lisa lights a fire.  It was at Lisa's party a few years ago that I first had the thought,  "I can retire now; there are so many good people in my life."

Ann

     College graduation is always something to celebrate, but for my friend Ann it had an extra tinge of triumph.  Picking up formal education again in your forties is not easy.  Ann wove classes and papers and reading into her busy life.  She worked  full time at the Sellwood library and maintained a rich family life with her partner and two teenagers.  She graduated last week with a degree BA in non-profit management and a certificate in conflict management and mediation. Her family flew in from Colorado and Illinois, friends and neighbors gathered, and her colleagues closed the library and walked over for the party.   We rejoiced with  Ann in her long-awaited achievement.

Sisters and brother with me on screen

     My Aunt Sister turned 90 on May 20.  Uncle Flurry, her 80-year old brother, planned a birthday party for her in New Jersey.  Nieces and nephews and cousins came  from Texas and Washington and Chicago and Boston and Florida. They came together  to celebrate the dear woman who was there for our baptisms and first communions and confirmations and graduations and showers and weddings, and who  never forgets our birthdays or anniversaries.  I was unable to go, because I was on call to fly to Texas as soon as the new baby Simone was born.   Thanks to Skype, I could celebrate with   my sisters and brother and other dear ones at the party after the party in their hotel room.

Celebrating Carol

     I was in Texas, but how I wish I could also have been in Boston to hear my friend Carol's talk when she received an honorary degree.  Carol  taught philosophy for thirty years at Simmons College before moving back to New York.  There she taught rabbis in training at Hebrew Union College until she retired.  Last month Carol was honored by Simmons  with an honorary degree in religion.   In Carol's talk,  she summarized the important questions that her life and teaching have been about.  
         When my friend Helen's partner Donna died, seven of Helen's eight brothers and sisters came to the funeral, along with their children and grandchildren.  Donna's children and grandchildren, friends and community members all gathered  to remember Donna and to comfort  each other.  As I sat in the packed country church looking at the slide show of photos on the large TV screen, I remembered something from my own life.
      When my then-husband  and I told his father, Albert, that we were separating, Albert's reply was, "Don't do that.  Come back here and we'll have a big party for you."  Even in my surprise I understood that, though a party can't save a bad marriage, a gathered family and community can celebrate the good and soothe the losses.
  
  

Big Sister

A short nap

Big sister

      Maxine is learning to be a big sister.   When I first arrived in Texas, Simone was only a few days old and was not making much sound.  Maxine sat next to her mother, held her doll Laura close to her chest in imitation of breastfeeding, and said, "This baby  just came out of my tummy yesterday."  As Simone got more active and vocal, Maxine began sing to Simone while Simone was protesting  diaper changes, and to tell her, "It's all right, sweetheart."   Courtney often reads to Maxine while the baby is nursing.  Maxine know how to be quiet while Courtney and the baby sleep.

Dance performance

With John Jacob

    Dancing and parties are a big part of Maxine's life. She met me at the airport in her pink tutu, and said, "I couldn't wait for you to get here!"  Almost every day, she had a new dance routine to show us.  She enlisted her friend Silas in a long and energetic performance.  One day, Maxine planned a tea party.  She took a change of clothes to preschool; a dress, high heels, and Silly Bandz bracelets shaped like princesses.  She changed in the big kids' bathroom, brushed her hair, and put on lip gloss.  Fancy Nancy has nothing on Maxine.  When we arrived home, she set up a table for a tea party, and she and Courtney baked blueberry muffins to serve. Decorations are important, but Maxine is flexible enough so that she doesn't get upset when her creations don't turn out exactly as she had envisioned. She made paper flowers for the party, and created a hanger installation on the wall.

Swim lessons

Playing with Mommy

       Maxine's daily life continued as before.  I drove her to preschool and picked her up.  She cuddled with her stuffed animals.  She went to birthday parties and swim lessons and clowned around with Daddy.  Every night I told her stories about the Princess Lovely Dancing Maxine and her Seven  Brothers.  (The stories are mostly about the brothers and the silly sounds they make during their adventures) Courtney's friend Gretchen ran through the sprinkler with her.  Mostly we all hung around and enjoyed each other.

Waffles

      When my brother Donnie and his family visited, Maxine helped David make waffles for breakfast. She was so happy playing with her four Texas cousins that she  jumped up and down from joy.

Simone

      Meanwhile, Simone squirmed and kicked and grew.  I heard Maxine say to Courtney, "This baby is bringing me a lot of love."
    
    

Texas Manners

  

Bad tire

     Yesterday, when I was driving back to Dave and Courtney's  after I dropped Maxine off at her preschool, I noticed that the Toyota Scion was driving funny.  I pulled into the parking lot for the main post office in Bryan and inspected the tires.  Sure enough, the right front tire was flat and looked damaged.  What to do?  Courtney was home with the baby.  David was in New Jersey.  There's no Les Schwab in Texas.
      First I tried to use the little inflator machine that plugs in the cigarette lighter.  No effect.  I dug deeper into the trunk and found the spare tire.  I noticed that, at 9:30 on a Monday morning, everybody who drove into the post office parking lot seemed to be over 60.  Finally I spied a young man sitting in the passenger seat of a big white truck.  He looked about 14, but he was my only prospect.  I asked if he would help me put the spare tire on.  "Yes, Ma'am!"  He practically leapt from the truck, and got down on the pavement to wrestle the tire off.
    We lacked a  long rod for the jack, made especially for these rims, so the young man jury-rigged a tool using a screw driver and muscle.  He said, "I've been unemployed for a year and a half; done a lot of odd jobs. I like putting  tires on."  He is 18.
  His mother came out of the post office and bought over a tire iron form her truck. "My ex-husband took all the tools, but he left me this tire iron."
     It was taking a long time for the boy to get the tire raised off the ground with his makeshift jack. Meanwhile, I was standing around useless, trying not to be too obvious about seeking shade while his mother brought pieces of tools and offered advice. I worried that I was keeping them from their day.
     "Only thing we got to do is find him a job.  Dairy Queen, McDonald's, whatever.  He' s been living in Houston with my mother and is just today moving here to Bryan with me."
      I was in touch with Courtney, who was calling the USAA road service.   USAA recommended towing.   The young man assured me, "I'm getting it." We held off on the tow truck.

Good tire

   A man in his early thirties drove up and parked his pickup next to us.  The young man asked him if he had a specific tool (foreign language to me.)   Pickup guy brought out several tools, and together they got the old tire off and the spare tire mounted.  The young man grinned and gave me a thumbs up.  The whole process had taken about an hour.
     I gave the young man money (which he accepted), but pickup guy offered him something better.  As they were working and talking, the man with the tools asked, "You  looking for work?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "My brother has the pet shop over in Millican.  You like animals?"
     "Yes, sir."
     "I'm not sure what they need, but you could go and talk to him.  Tell him I sent you.  My name's Justin."
      "Yes, sir!"  Another grin.
The young man's name is Trey McAllister.  I hope he gets  a job.