April in Manzanita

     We made two trips to Manzanita in April.  We joined John and Rose at a small place called the Red Door that doesn't take dogs.  This was the first time we have left Miss Mutt Leigh.  She stayed next door.  Neighbor Janet was certain that 13-pound Mutt Leigh and 85- pound Arnold would get
along just fine.  They did, after Miss M. nipped Arnold in the ankle to show him who is boss.

Josh fuels up

Sailor jacks

   It was busy long weekend.  John and Rose's grandchildren were there for spring break.  They continued the sand design work they had begun in February.  Josh says he can't wait until my grandsons get to Manzanita in August. "They will be good labor," he says.  We all marveled at the thousands of blue Vellella vellela that had washed up on the sand.  Some people call them Japanese men-o-war; Judy calls them sailor jacks.
    I cleaned the library cottage, and visited with old library friends while I washed windows.  When Judy picked me up after an afternoon's cleaning, she was too weak to come in from the car.  So our old friends clamored out to the driveway and hung around the car visiting with her.

Janet with Carter

   Rose and I checked out 3 of the houses that family members have rented for our West Coast reunion in August.  Judy and I had planned to stay Sunday night in the house of my friend Linda, who had kindly offered to let us stay there in August.  Linda's house has spectacular views, and meets all the restrictions and requirements that we have: flat, easy access to the house and a bedroom on the first floor; great views for Judy to enjoy while she rests; welcoming to Mutt Leigh, and close to the houses the rest of the family has rented.  After several weeks of searching I couldn't find a rental that met our needs. Linda's offer was a godsend.  Unfortunately, her husband smokes a pipe constantly.  The purpose of our staying at Linda's on a Sunday night in April was to test whether Judy would be bothered by the residual smell of pipe smoke.  We lasted only fifteen minutes in Linda's house before the smoke began to bother all of us. So we hightailed  it back to the Red Door, schlepped our belongings back in, and settled in for another night at the beach.

Robert with Carter

What  note is that?

     Back home in Milwaukie, we celebrate Easter with our good neighbors and their new grandson Carter.  Carter was born on Epiphany, making him the third King in his family.  He is the apple of the eye of a whole village; not only his skilled and loving parents Kelli and Randy, but also grandparents Janet and Robert, Great-grandparents Harry, Wauneta, Louise, and Sybil, along with Randy's parents, four sisters, and extended family. And, of course, Judy and me.  Janet and Robert are keeping Carter during the day while Kelli and Randy return to their teaching jobs.  We now get to see a lot of the little red-headed charmer.
    Now we are back at the Library cottage in Manzanita, and unplanned bonus trip.  There was a cancellation, and our names were drawn in the lottery to fill the vacancy.  Fuey joined us.  She and Judy filled the house with music from autoharp and ukulele, and I sang along. Mutt Leigh claimed the end of the chaise as her guard tower, where she  can protect us from all the dogs on the beach.

Fuey

    Judy sometimes gets discouraged when she has only enough oomph to lie on the couch all day.  I tell her that means she will not miss a minute of the view of the ocean.
 

Mutt Leigh at the cottage

Sequim babies

 

Holding Ivan

  I was eager to see the twin boys Charles and Ivan, who were born in mid-February to Joe and Lisa in Sequim.  So I loaded the car up with the mixed-tape CDs that my brothers-in-law have made me over the years, and took off for the four-hour drive.  It was a beautiful drive beside Hood Canal.  I sang along all the way.

Lisa with one baby

Joe with two babies

  Charles and Ivan are healthy, contented babies, who are held almost constantly.  Lisa keeps one  strapped to her while she works coordinating the farmers' market in Sequim.  Joe is adept at holding both boys at once. Grandmother Kris is there for hours most days. John and Rose take their turns at the 9 to 1 shift while Joe works nights at his nursing job.  Lisa's  brother Peter, who lives in the other half of the house, is on call all night. It takes a village, and those babies have one.
     Big sister Olive loves them from near and far, mostly from her many  perches. Olive likes to be high up. She has a climbing wall on one side of the living room, and a ladder  hanging from the ceiling. Even her playhouse has an upper story. Lisa's mother Charlie is on hand most days to play and do tap-dances with Olive. Many days, Olive plays at Kris' house with her cousin Greta.

Olive

     Meanwhile in the back yard, Chas and Joe are building a large annex, which will be a recreation room with Olive's trapeze-artist equipment

Construcion.  Joe, Peter ,Chas

now and bedrooms later.) John and Peter often lend a hand.
   John and Rose, Chas and Kris and I went to dinner at a restaurant overlooking  a golf course, with a fine view of the Olympic mountains. The  complex is run by the Jamestown S'Clallam tribe. As I walked out past the Northwest Coast art, down the slight slope to the parking lot, Kris and I walked arm-in-arm.  I smiled as realized that John and Chas and Kris and I have been friends for 50 years.  Kris and I were young women together, and here we are holding on to each other for balance.
   
   

Kris

Finally, a choice

   

 We did it!  I am almost a free woman!
     The ministerial search  committee has chosen a candidate to present to the congregation.  We have made the hard, hard decision, and I am happy with our choice. Our work is not completely over, but the most intense part is done.
    We follow the rules of the Unitarian Universalist Association, so we will not be able to make an offer until April 2.  If our first choice refuses, our second choice is perfectly acceptable.  Then, the candidate will come to our church to preach on April 19.  The candidate will spend the following week meeting and greeting. Of course the committee members will be introducing and schmoozing and subtly lobbying the church members. The candidate will preach again on April 26.  Immediately following that service, the congregation will vote to accept or reject our choice.
    Betsy asked a while ago, "Isn't that #%*! search over yet?" It has been a long haul, this work.  It began in January a year ago, when I agreed to be on the committee.  I thought then that my major qualification was that I have a good religious malarkey detector. I worried about my ability to make my wisdom, age, and grace heard in a group of nine. (One of us dropped out early on, leaving eight.)  If we could have conducted our business by writing,  I would have been confident, but in meetings?  I don't do committees. I used to say that small groups must form the basic social organization of hell.
     All summer and fall I worked with Jerry and Gerry to create a long document that would be a true and vivid picture of our church. This document, and a web site drawing on it, were our ""Help Wanted" ad for ministers looking for a job.  I dug out 30 years of attendance and contribution data and condensed the history of the 170-year old congregation into four pages. We answered such lovely questions as, "What is the dominant theology of the congregation?" and  "What issues will probably not be resolved in 5 years? 10 years? never?"  I felt heard by these two bright men.  We worked well together, and I gained confidence in my ability to produce something in a group.
    On January 2 we got 20 letters of interest, and narrowed that number down by January 6 to those we wanted more information from.  Then we selected further those we would interview by Skype.  Those interviews took all of a Friday evening and all day Saturday.  From those we chose a few to come for a weekend.  For most weekends in February and March we picked up the candidate and spouse from the airport on Friday, and took them to dinner Friday evening.  On Saturday we interviewed the minister all day at Ruth's comfortable house.  On Sunday  morning we traipsed an hour or two away to hear the candidate preach at a neighboring Unitarian church.  We were like secret shoppers, trying to be inconspicuous. Then we took the minister to lunch for more conversation.  On the Monday evening our committee would meet to discuss the candidate as a potential minister of our church.  Rinse and repeat.
    By the last Monday evening meeting, I was confident that I could state my my opinions in a clear, persuasive manner.  Maybe I can work with committees.  Maybe it's only purgatory.
     The day after we made our choice, I asked Nurse Judy,  "How does adrenaline leave the body?  How long does it take? "  I slept until 10 AM one day last week.  Judy and I took a long drive in the blooming country.

Clackamas County nursery

Spring inside and out

 Josh with John's design

 

Early spring

  Judy has recovered from the flu without developing pneumonia, thanks in large part to her determination.  She forced herself to sit in her recliner for a short time on the third day of her illness, then for longer on the fourth day, etc.  The doctors are still monitoring her, but she has declared herself out of the woods.  Not only that, but she believes that she has not slid any further down the pulmonary fibrosis progression than where she had been before she got the flu. It feels like spring in our house, to go along with the  blooming daffodils and primroses in the yard.

Judy at the dunes

   Our friends and neighbors took good care of us.  Betsy and Les made an emergency delivery of brisket and kugel, carefully leaving it outside our self-imposed quarantine house  Sheila came with walk-around tacos for us to eat while watching the Superbowl.  Janet is still sharing meals with us; last night it was spaghetti Alfredo.
   Judy had almost gotten strong enough for us to join John and Rose in Manzanita in the second week of February. It was not a good idea for her to pack her clothes and ride for two hours in the car all in the same day.  Even though, at the rest stop, I drove up onto the sidewalk to place her as close as
possible to the women's room, by the time we got to the vacation house Judy was desperately worn out. I have felt, during Judy's long struggle with the flu, that I was always arranging things in a way that would have been appropriate the week before or after. The next few days were a tonic for her, though, with great company and a window seat overlooking the dunes.

John sets off to work

     John was plotting large geometric designs, which he drew on the sand with
special tools that his brother Chas made for the task.  John would bend over his graph paper and compass at night, saying something incomprehensibly numeric to Rose who would reply, "So then pi would be 3."  In the morning he'd set off over the dunes with his tools on his shoulder to  work on the fabulous designs.

Search committee

    When we returned from the coast, I slid right back into total immersion in the work of the ministerial search committee.  We got twenty applications at the beginning of January, and have been narrowing the field and doing interviews.  When I come wide awake and alert at 3 in the morning, I fret about the search.  However, my respect for and confidence in the committee just grows and grows, and I take reassurance in that.  Even though we are at the point in the search when we will probably begin to disagree, I feel less worried when I am with them and we are working together.
   The other morning I woke up remembering being around 10 years old, and how it felt to turn cartwheels on the front lawn with my sisters.

Influenza

Les and Betsy's chicken soup

 Judy ached all over, and her prolonged coughing fits made her feel like she was drowning.  I could see the fear in her eyes. She even asked timidly if I would drive her to the doctor's. (I always go with her to the pulmonologist's, but never to her primary care doc's.  Sara and Judy worked together at the Old Town Clinic, and I don't hover over those appointments. ) A swab test confirmed that Judy had the flu. Sara made her lie still for quite a while in a darkened room until her heart rate slowed.  Then she considered whether to send Judy to the hospital.  "There's a 50- 50 chance you will end up there"  Sara said, but she ultimately decided that Judy was experienced enough to spot danger signals early.  She talked to me about ambulances and which hospital to head for.  She sent Judy out to the car in a wheelchair, and questioned me carefully about how far it would be from the car to the bed once we got home.
    Sara prescribed Tamiflu, an antiviral, for both of us. She described the cough medicine she prescribed as "the real deal," containing something to calm Judy and subdue the hacking.  It worked well; Judy spent the next two days sleeping. On the third day she sat for a few hours in her recliner, and then spent a little more time upright each day. She can't speak much without coughing, and doesn't have the attention span to watch movies. Short animal videos on Facebook make her smile. She mostly reads and pets Mutt Leigh. Today, the twelfth day since she came down with the flu, is the first time she has ventured out of the house.  Her ukulele/lunch buddies were thrilled to see her this morning.  Judy is a long way from her pre-flu strength, and we have to be on guard against pneumonia, but she is coming back. She has just today begun to give me some lip about the liquids I push.

Sally's portrait of Mutt Leigh

     Family and friends have been wonderful.   Frequent phone calls sustained me and reassured me.  I had a milder false of the flu, and I worried that if it got worse I wouldn't be able to take care of Judy.  Two minutes after I sent out an e-mail red alert to family, Tina called and offered to come from Chicago to help.  Betsy and Les made chicken soup with matzo balls and special powers, and drove out from the city to leave it on our doorstep.  Sally delivered a portrait of Mutt Leigh that captures her quirkiness and makes us laugh.  Midori called from Arizona to play a song for Judy on the flute.
    Thanks to all of you who have been holding us up in this hard time.

Hallelujah, Part 2

Happy

    Maxine and Simone and their parents came to stay with us after Christmas.  I was happily busy for weeks getting ready: shopping for toys and crafts and clothes from the resale store, making up princess beds, and collecting  lots of picture books.  On Sunday morning I waited eagerly for the sound of their voices in the driveway.  Courtney arrived with the girls after a week with her family in Los Angeles.  David came in later that day from Austin.

Courtney meets Mutt Leigh

Three nappers

     We had only a short time with Courtney; she left that evening for her flight back to Texas.  She and Judy caught up, we opened presents, and her friend Christopher came for dinner.     Meanwhile, Simone discovered the basket full of rhythm shakers and Maxine organized a rehearsal for the first of many shows.  "After I say bop bop you say bop bop,"  she directed.  Simone reminded me "Where's your instrument?"  Simone kept the beat and contributed her bop bops while Maxine sang and danced all over the kitchen.

At the playground

Quiet times

      Simone loves to sing.  She will do it for an audience, singing ABCD or Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.  She also sings to herself,  fa la la la la, or away in a manger . When she sees someone noticing her, she checks out the observers' face to see  whether she should perform or continue unselfconsciously. When Judy was a playing a video of her friend Holly singing, Simone scurried to put on her "pretty dress" (a ballerina outfit) so that she could dance and hum along with the music.
     On Monday we went to the local aquarium, where we were able to touch  sharks and manta rays.  Simone, age 2 and half, was impressed with the octopus: "Octopus turned into a rock," she reported to David's friend Mary Szybist, who presented us with broadsides of her poem about an octopus, The Lushness of It.

Texans in an Oregon cold snap

    We had saved the big box that our new washing machine came in, and that  become the girls' house.  We put a light and a mirror in it, and they stuffed the box with the two large shopping bags of  of  Christmas loot they'd brought from California. They played there for hours. Like true Americans, they had to make  auxiliary storage units for their stuff so that Maxine could sleep in the box one night.

Simone rings the dinner bell

Can I really touch a shark?

With Grandma Judy

      It was too cold to spend much time outdoors, but we did manage a short stint at a playground and a trip to the sock store.  Maxine chose purple  socks with guitars on them, and Simone chose red ones with sock monkeys.  I was surprised at David's choices of colorful striped socks.  He showed me the orange printed ones he was wearing.  Who could have guessed  that loud socks were the fashion among the avant-garde?
     Maxine planned a New Year's Eve party. She made a paper chain for the fireplace wall and turned plain brown lunch bags into elegant gift bags.  Our gift bags contained chocolate and Christmas crackers.  Daddy got a Christmas tie.  At our midnight (9 pm) we broke the crackers, put on our crowns, and banged pots and pans on the deck.  Simone was mesmerized by the music of Norwegian soprano Sissel singing Auld Lang Syne.
    At 3 AM the next morning David woke the girls.  Ever so gently and patiently he moved  them into the car and off to the airport.  I was filled with the lushness of it, but wish I had eight arms to draw them all back.

Another Silent Hallelujah, Part 1

Mary

Couldn't even hum along

   What is it about Handel's Messiah that renders me speechless?  A year and a half ago I was rehearsing for the church's Hallelujah Chorus when I came down with a case of  laryngitis that lasted for 6 weeks.  This fall, when the North Clackamas Community Chorus prepared to present a sing-your-own Messiah,  I got laryngitis again.  I sat silent in the audience, watching my friends Lois and Mary Jean working through  the alto part, and thrilling to the father and son standing behind me who sang every note.  I was not able to speak, much less sing.
     When our friend Mary had a holiday supper and sing-along, I could barely converse, much less join in the carols.  When Janet and Robert came over with Christmas cookies and the latest pre-natal grandchild report,  I couldn't ask all the obstetrical questions I wanted to.

Robert

     Judy by then had had a 4-week respite from conversation with me.  "Don't talk! Don't whisper!" she'd say, "You could damage your vocal chords." I have to be careful, in any case, when I talk to Judy. It takes her a few minutes now to regain her breath after walking from the car to her easy chair or walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. I wait to speak to her until she has enough breath to reply.
      Judy has new medicine to help suppress the cough that takes her breath away and makes her oxygen- saturation levels plummet. When I tell people that she has an (awful) new normal, she reminds me, "Always add that I hate it."

Merry Brucemas

      Lois and Chuck appeared with brunch on Christmas day.  They brought along their banjo and accordion and the words to Lois's Brucemas Carols, lyrics of traditional carols changed in honor of Lois's  first cat. ("We wish you a merry Brucemas" etc.)  Could I sing along?  Oh, no. But by Christmas  I could talk.

Chuck and Lois cook

     Lois, who is Jewish, pointed out that her people don't usually sing the Messiah.  "Neither do yours," she said. "It's a Protestant thing."  She's right. I used to think that only those who belonged to churches with handbell choirs and adult Sunday schools could master those notes.  Those people who, like the character in Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping," conceived of life as a road down which one traveled, an easy enough road through a broad country, and that one's destination was there from the very beginning, a measured distance away, standing in the ordinary light like some plain house where one went in and was greeted by respectable people and was shown to a room where everything one had ever lost or put aside was gathered together, waiting.” A far cry from Gregorian chant.
      When I wanted to sing the Messiah choruses from my easy enough road, I could not. But I was happy in this season, silently preparing for our granddaughters' visit.