Judy – Page 111 – Dear Liza

My Father’s Wisdom

Dear Liza,

I will write properly about my dad, your great-grandpa Lowell, later this week. For now I will just tell how he helped me through a bad time this weekend.

After our wonderful trip to the Coast, staying home all day seemed to get even more tedious and confining. I lost interest in my story, felt stupid when I tried to paint, and was just sad and cranky. The petty inconveniences of the shut down, combined with the very real trouble our country is in right now, were really getting to me.

Saturday, I asked Granda Nelson and Auntie Bridgett to do the weekly shopping so I could stay home and give the house a much needed cleaning. It felt GOOD to be doing something useful and hard, and both the house and I were better for it.

Sunday, the blues crept up again. For most of the day I sat in different places in the house, feeling useless and sad. In the afternoon, I thought of my Dad and some of his advice. He said that when you felt sad, you should find someone worse off, and help them. These past weeks, this advice has led to me making cards for elderly folks and cookies for marchers.

But when you feel really useless, you don’t feel like you CAN help anyone. You are sure your cookies will be awful and your cards will be laughable. What then?

Ice cream, dad’s voice said. Get out of the house and go get some ice cream. So I did what we do now, in Portland, when we want to “go out” for ice cream. I got on the Fifty Licks website.

I rounded up my people and we walked the half mile through our own dear neighborhood, admiring the flowers and fruits as they burst out in yards, driveways and parking spaces.

We got to Fifty Licks, up on Burnside, and realized there were a lot of people doing ice cream therapy. Our online order was ready right on time, but where to eat it?

Indoor dining is NOT an option in Portland yet, so we walked up the block to the Catholic Pastoral Center and borrowed the curb of their parking lot, with a view of tall trees and the Burnside traffic. Informal, al fresco, and yummy. Dad would have approved.

By the time we got home, full of beauty and yummy cream, I felt better. We had also walked a mile, which always helps. We can get through difficult times, with good people and good ice cream.

Thanks, Dad!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Cannon Beach Welcomes You

Dear Liza,

When we needed inside space and lunch after an hour in the wind and sand, we fetched the car and drove to the main part of town. Many shops and restaurants were open, but with restrictions like here in Portland: Shorter hours and take out only. Our first choice, Bill’s Tavern Brewhouse, was one such place and would have to wait for another time.

But just across the street, The Driftwood Restaurant and Lounge, was open, welcoming, and had expanded into the parking lot in order to give enough space between tables. We wanted to get out of the chill, though, and there was just one table left inside. Hooray!

It felt odd, after these long weeks, to sit at a table in a public place, and order food. Odd, but wonderful.

Susan, bringer of beer, crab rolls, and smiles

Our waitress, Susan, was masked and pleasant, and brought us beer (beer!) and food I hadn’t cooked. We ate and basked in the new normality as we watched the morning clouds blow away to flood our window with sunshine.

Once we were warm and sated, we headed off to explore. The shops that were open had these adorable reminders to stay safe.

We looked at art through gallery windows and stopped at the candy shop for Grandpa Nelson’s beloved salt water taffy. The public art was delightful! I love this newly-installed fountain and sculpture of ravens, but foolishly neglected to note its title or artist.

On our way back to the car, we stopped on the top of a bluff to have another long look at the beach and nearly got hit by a kite! A very young fellow was below us, trying to reel in his kite, and it was doing that bob-and-weave thing kites do when they don’t want to land. We had a chat and I thanked him for making our day at the beach extra special.

We said goodbye to the sand, wind, and rocks before climbing into the car and realizing how tired we all were! Thank goodness for Auntie Bridgett’s stamina in getting us home.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Fog, Rocks, and Puffins

Dear Liza,

Once we got to the windy shore at Cannon Beach, I was in heaven. The wide sweep of the sand and the fog veiled cliffs set the mood for silence and contemplation, and we walked along, thinking our own thoughts. Auntie Bridgett found a reasonably comfy wall and sketched while Grandpa Nelson and I headed down the beach.

Haystack Rock, which is the landmark and symbol of the town, stands 235 feet above the sand. It is surrounded by starfish and anemone-filled tide pools and, further up, houses thousands of birds. Seagulls and cormorants are the largest and noisiest, but I paid special attention to the Tufted Puffins. They have a cute, wind-up-toy sort of flap and are easy to spot, but hard to photograph.

A Tufted Puffin….Photo credit, Save the Puffins

These are one of three types of Puffins, and are larger than both the Atlantic and Horned species. The colony on Haystack Rock had 600 birds years ago, but has dwindled to about 100, mostly because the fish they depend on have been either over-fished or are dying out due to pollution and climate change.

I have a soft spot in my teacher’s heart for Puffins because of a story called “Nights of the Pufflings”, by Bruce McMillan. It was included in a third grade anthology and told the true story of how children in Iceland would stay awake all night in the spring to collect baby Atlantic Puffins, called “Pufflings”, who got lost on their flight from the cliffs to the sea.

The children would collect the birds at night, saving them from traffic and dogs, and release them the next day at the beach. The children’s activism and care of their small charges warmed all the fuzzy feels of my heart.

Statue of a Puffin guarding the parking lot

Cannon Beach has this sort of love for their own Puffins, erecting statues around town and selling sweatshirts to raise money for their protection.

Once we had soaked up all the sea and wind that we could, it was time to get warm and fed. Tomorrow I will tell you about the pretty town of Cannon Beach.

Love,

Grandma Judy

West to Cannon Beach

Dear Liza,

Wednesday morning we got up early and were on highway 26 to Cannon Beach by nine o’clock. The weather was chilly, grey, and almost rainy.

As usual, the trip west really started once we went through the Vista Ridge tunnel. This is a tunnel that actually goes under a neighborhood in the west hills, and whenever we go through it, I wonder how the folks in that lovely and very expensive neighborhood feel about living above a major freeway.

Can you imagine living above the Vista Ridge Tunnel?

The city of Portland ends pretty abruptly once we passed the hills, because of the urban growth boundary. Other, smaller towns, like Beaverton, have grownup, but Portland doesn’t spread out. I like that. Having watched Southern California become one giant suburb, I am happy to see a bit of country green between cities.

Once we had passed the open fields and headed up into the Coastal Range of mountains, we pulled over at a rest stop, and I got my first history lesson

This historical marker tells of The Tillamook Burn, which was actually four fires between 1933 and 1939. They were all caused by logging accidents and, in the midst of the Great Depression, cost Oregon over 13 billion board feet of lumber. The lumber industry, like so many others, had been left to “police itself”, and it had not gone well.

The Tillamook Burn led to regulations on how trees are taken and what sort of equipment can be used, which has made logging safer.

Just behind the sign was a delightfully gurgling stream, a branch of Wolf Creek. It was mysterious and shady, and on a warmer day I would have been tempted to stick my feet in and hang out with the woods for a while. But the chill and damp discouraged such shenanigans, and we continued west.

We passed Camp 18 and the Elderberry Cafe, where we have stopped for lunch on other trips, but we were anxious to get to the beach. We found parking and grabbed coats, hats and towels, getting in sight of the ocean just as quickly as we could.

We all inhaled, filling ourselves up with salty air. It felt like home. I will tell you more about our adventure tomorrow!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Weather or Not, We’re Going!!

Dear Liza,

Every year, for my birthday, I go to the beach. In Southern California, where I grew up, it was always, always sunny. When we lived in Salinas, the beach at Monterey was often cloudy or even rainy and cold in March. I didn’t care. I went and walked in the wind and rain, loving the ocean. I’m sure it loved me right back, too.

This year we were shut down for my birthday, and Grandpa Nelson’s, too. We were both missing the ocean a lot, but all the Oregon coastal beaches have been closed to keep people from congregating and risk spreading the virus. Even when the beach towns like Cannon Beach opened, they asked people from Portland NOT to come, because Portland still had too many cases.

But now, our county and city are opening up! Restaurants are washing windows and setting up tables. And since our city is healthy, we don’t feel as though we are endangering the places we visit the lovely Oregon Coast.

The only problem is that we are now in the middle of our “second winter”. We had bright skies and warm sunshine weeks ago, custom made for long walks and taking pictures. Now, we have had three days of rain and cooler temperatures.

I don’t care! Tomorrow, we pack up Miles, our midnight blue Volkswagen Golf, with coats, umbrellas and boots, and head off for the beach!

Hooray!!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Time Team

Dear Liza,

We haven’t been able to go out to a play, concert, or movie since mid-March, so we’ve been watching more television. We are not fans of police dramas or car chases, scary movies or even sit-coms.

Nope. We like documentaries, history, and cooking shows.

Alton Brown is always fun and educational in his approach to cooking, and the Great British Baking Show is delightfully dotty. I have gotten more adventurous in my baking because of Mary Berry’s demonstration lessons.

But the hidden gem is a British series called Time Team. This show ran from 1994 to 2014 on BBC 4 and is all about actual archeological digs in England. It is hosted by Tony Robinson, who I first knew as “Baldrick” on the old Black Adder series, and is unapologetically British.

Dr. Carenza Lewis, Tony Robinson, and Phil Harding

Tony presents the digs, which happen all over the UK, but the actual archeology is done by Dr. Mick Aston, Dr. Carenza Lewis, and Phil Harding. Each of these very real and very educated people has their role to play, because each dig is seen as a story in and of itself. It has exposition, character development, conflict, mystery, and resolution.

Since they are all called by their first names, I will, too. Mick is the academic, fascinated by Anglo-Saxon history and dubious of anything too obvious. Carenza is enthusiastic but cautious, making sure the diggers don’t damage history while exploring it.

And then there’s Phil Harding, who has the best voice on tv. He comes from Wiltshire, southwest of London, and has a West Country accent like Rubeus Hagrid. He is enthusiastic about every aspect of his work, happiest on his knees with a trowel, looking for bits and bobs of history. His main answer to every conflict is, “Ya gotta dig.”

There are other folks, of course. Geophysics, the folks who see into the ground with radar and magnetometers, archivists who find the old records, and the artist who makes everything come to life. They all add to the mix for a perfectly satisfying dive into British history.

I have learned about Iron Age foundries in the Midlands, Roman villas near London, Anglo Saxon churches in Cornwall, and even a World War II Spitfire crash in Brittany, on a rare foray to the Continent. Time Team is like a class with five of the coolest professors ever.

I know you like learning new things. Maybe you could find Time Team on YouTube, like we did, and enjoy!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Me and Harry

Dear Liza,

Harry Potter and his author, J.K. Rowling, have been famous for a long time now. The first book about Harry and the Sorcerer’s Stone was published in 1998 and has been both loved and hated all over the world ever since.

Wonderful display at McMenamin’s Kennedy School

I was first introduced to Harry through your Auntie Katie, who was in high school and working at a bookshop in Monterey at the time. Part of her job was to dress up in her black, star-printed cape and read the first chapter of each newly released book at the Midnight Release Party. She loved the books, so I gave them a try. I loved them, too.

Their magical world is complex and well described, and the story of a boy and his friends trying to conquer puberty, final exams, and world-dominating evil all at once is emotional, funny, and compelling. The story they tell of the importance of love and friendship makes us understand our humanity better.

Auntie Bridgett as a studious young wizard

We have gone a little nuts with the Harry goodies, I admit. We have all the books in English, and most of them in French, too. We also have background books like ““Quidditch Through the Ages” and “Harry Potter’s Bookshelf”. Auntie Christy even made us magic wands in her wood shop, and Cousin Kyle got us figurines, scarves and tee shirts! Yes, we like us some Harry.

Meeting a fellow Hufflepuff at Laurelhurst!

We have also enjoyed events in town that are all about Harry and our love of his wizarding world. We dressed up to attend trivia night at the Nerd Out and Harry’s birthday celebration at the Kennedy School, joining with lots of other Harry fans to eat, drink, play games, and have a good time in an imaginary world where we are all wizards.

I am currently re-reading The Goblet of Fire in French, enjoying the story and understanding more as I go along. Last week, when I read about Neville making a mistake in Transformation class and accidentally attaching his own ears to a cactus, I laughed out loud! At French! Hooray!

Love,

Grandma Judy

A Clipped Wing

Dear Liza,

Yesterday morning, I woke up with a swollen right wrist, sore elbow and tingly fingers. It wasn’t horrible, but I knew it would get horrible if I didn’t figure out a way to make it better and STOP doing whatever had caused it.

Usually, these sorts of things are caused by a repeated movement that irritate the nerves in the wrist… so how could I be less irritating? (To my wrist, silly!)

I decided that my habit of typing my blog, emails and Duolingo lessons on my tablet, while scrunched up on the couch, was probably putting my wrist at a bad angle. All the drawing and painting I’d been doing lately may have contributed, too.

Auntie Bridgett gave me some ginger tea and aspirin, and put the ace bandage on my wrist, both to support it and to remind me not to use it. I gave my right hand the day off, which slowed everything down. I don’t want to be mean, but my left hand is pretty stupid.

Brushing my teeth was an exercise in splatter. Unloading the dishwasher took forever. I sat in on the art group and enjoyed the company while watching my buddies paint koi in a pond. Making dinner… well, let’s just say there were quite a few potatoes dropped on the floor, picked up, and dropped again.

By bedtime it felt better. I took off the ace bandage and slept well. Today I’ll wear it but do a little more with my hand, while remembering to only type while sitting up like a grown-up. This may be one of those “senior” moments, where I realize that the way I used to do things just doesn’t work anymore. So I will find new ways.

Living is learning, as Momma would say.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Disconnected Silliness

Dear Liza,

Most days, I like to have a story to tell you, a connected set of images that move from beginning to end and make some sort of sense. But not all the pictures I take fit into the stories.

So today, you get the random bits that didn’t connect with anything else.

This tiny shelf has been attached to the telephone pole for months, but has just recently been “closed”. I love our silly neighborhood.

These messages of friendship written all over the sidewalks let us know our friends are thinking of us.

And, of course, flowers blooming and blooming!

The combination of old houses and new blossoms just knocks me out….

And Laurelhurst is still one of the prettiest places in town.

That’s all for now. Maybe I’ll have a story for you tomorrow.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Sunny Walk, New Things

Dear Liza,

We had some errands to do yesterday, so Auntie Bridgett and I went for a nice long walk. And since all the places we needed to go were down on Hawthorne, we saw how that street is changing during the lockdown.

One of our gnomes, lurking in the ferns….

We saw that Chez Machin, a lovely French bistro type place, has changed its name to Frog and Snail. I am hoping it is just a name change and the owners are the same. They are nice folks, and too many people are losing their livelihoods because of the shutdown. We will have a taste of their frogs and snails when the city opens up more.

We still found a lot of businesses closed, but the art and messaging is beautiful and hopeful. I took pictures as a way of holding tight onto goodness and love.

I have been so dismayed these last few days at the level of anger and violence that has swept over Portland and the rest of the country that I sometimes just want to curl up and sleep until all the hatred has passed.

But love, beauty and just plain human goodness are making themselves heard, too. And that gives me comfort.

After dropping off dry cleaning and mailing packages, we stopped at Hawthorne Liquor. Auntie Bridgett is on a mission to find a certain kind of yummy cognac that we had on an Air France flight, years ago. We have yet to find it anywhere in the city. But I did have time to wonder at this improbable bottle of pear brandy!

On the way home we stopped at Whole Bowl for lunch, which we ate while sitting on the chairs outside the temporarily closed Common Grounds coffee shop. We stopped at Chase bank to return someone’s lost credit card, and enjoyed some more street art.

By the time we got home, we had walked nearly three miles! I felt pretty accomplished, after these long months of too much sofa-sitting. Maybe we can put ourselves out of this hole, after all.

Love,

Grandma Judy