Judy – Page 118 – Dear Liza

Sunny Sunset at Lone Fir

Dear Liza,

We had so many sunny days last week! And after the time change, it was light enough after dinner to go for walks. Auntie Bridgett and I visited the dead people at Lone Fir Cemetery.

This is my favorite cemetery in town. It has been used since the 1840s and has fewer rules about what sort of marker people can put up. It has the best of old, new, immortal, fleeting, tragic and silly.

On this walk we found a new marker. Burton Stein passed away a year ago this January, and his headstone has just been installed. Folks had already come around and placed stones on it. This is a Jewish gesture of respect. Flowers are fleeting, we believe. Stones live forever. I’m not sure what the dented candle stick is for, but I applaud the gesture.

We walked around and enjoyed watching the sun disappear over the west hills. The boxy looking object in the photo is the very top of the tallest building in Portland, the Wells Fargo Building.

When my Momma, your Great Grandma Billie, was getting ready to die, one of the last things she said was, “I’m gonna put my boat on the porch, and head west.” And the next day, she did. Heading into the sunset isn’t such a bad way to go.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Flying Cat Coffee And Corona virus

Dear Liza,

Our weather is still chilly but clear here in Portland. Coats have been put away, but a sweater and a little something around your neck is still a good idea. It is good walking weather, and yesterday Grandpa Nelson and I walked the mile south to Division Street’s Flying Cat Coffee.

This is just a block west of Salt and Straw Ice Cream and the St. Honore Boulangerie. It feels ‘old’ Portland, where the others feel very ‘new’. The building is small, and the seating is a mixture of all the living rooms of my childhood… avocado green sofas and orange striped overstuffed rocking chairs.

But it is pleasant. Their coffee is strong and good, and they have a nice selection of teas and some pastries.

But we were there the day the coronovirus became very real in Portland, so we literally had the place to ourselves. And it was probably our last sit down in a coffee shop for a while.

The mayor has declared a state of emergency (city of emergency?) and said all K-12 schools will close starting Monday. Governor Kate Brown has declared that any group bigger than 250 people is illegal. So concerts, plays, movie theaters, indoor malls, our zoo, museums, comic conventions, all the places we want to go when the spring comes, are all closed. Poop.

Auntie Katie is working with her staff to find ways to keep Books with Pictures open while keeping everyone safe. Auntie Bridgett is doing the same at SideStreet Arts Gallery. It isn’t easy being a public place these days.

Here is where I heave a big sigh and find the silver lining. We are all well. The sunlight is pretty and the Park is not contagious. Kittens are good company. I am continuing to improve my story.

And I get to see you in less than a month!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Spring Colors

Dear Liza,

It has been sunny for days and days, and we have even seen bees out and about in the warm afternoons, which means spring is definitely here.

The blue skies have also meant cold, clear nights. I pruned Great Grandma’s geraniums, which have been getting pale and lanky in the foyer to keep them safe from frost. I have even put them out in the patio to get some sun. But I cover them every night with an old sheet… just in case.

I am so pleased to see sunshine! Portlanders get a little drunk on it, this time of year.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Buckman School Art Show

Dear Liza,

Well, you can tell it’s spring when the festivals start! With our damp, chilly weather, Portlanders sort of go hermit-y from New Year’s Day until mid-March. It just makes since. If it’s cold and nasty outside, and warm and cozy inside, I’m inside, thank you very much!

So, since it’s March, this past weekend was the Buckman School Art Show. This is a wonderful old-style school built in the 1920s, like so many schools here on the Eastside of Portland. It has an imposing brick facade, interior hallways, and a gymnasium high and wide enough to hold the whole school!

This art show featured work by both professional artists and students, and I enjoyed both. These hardware-store mosaics by Gretchen Wright were so much fun to look at! She used things that are normally stored in chaotic little drawers, like tacks, game pieces, and electronics bits, and made them fun to look at.

Ceramicist Erica Gibson’s work also caught my eye. Her peaceful but oddly disconnected faces seem to say, “Yes, my body has gone, but I’m cool with that…” They were very relaxed in a room full of parents and kids, a full-on Marimba performance, and the occasional pet dog.

I found our friend Nicole Curcio, selling her lovely ceramics.

Then there was Flip Frisch, whose business name Flip and Scout. She takes photos of her daughter and uses them in collages. They were interesting, like an action comic hero’s family photos.

The student work for sale was fun to see, too. There were comic books by Ozwald Star, called “Captain Underpants and Donald Trump”, were the most controversially-minded. There were jewelry, coasters, and friendship bracelets, but what caught my eye was Charlie’s Origami.

These throwing stars and other pieces were done with such precision and color that they reminded me of Ethan Magauey, a third grader I taught years ago. He has grown into a fine young man. I hope Charlie has the same good fortune.

The art show was fun, but after my many years of school-oriented pandemonium, I could only be inside for a little while…. I don’t know if other retired teachers get “triggered” by rooms crowded with loud children, but I sure do! This is weird, because while I was teaching, my classroom could get quite loud and it didn’t bother me.

Maybe my nervous system finally said, “Enough, already!”

Love,

Grandma Judy

Karen Thurman’s Critters

Dear Liza

This past Friday was the opening of a new show at SideStreet Arts Gallery. It features the work of a delightfully talented, sweetly quirky woman named Karen Thurman.

We saw her work last year at the Guardino Gallery, up in Alberta neighborhood, and just couldn’t stop looking at it. How does she make these odd, alien-but-adorable creatures? She makes them out of felt!

Yep, she uses needles and wool fibers and patiently creates these shrimp, spiders, and various floating and growing shapes. She used to make flat items, like scarves and table runners, but once she learned how to do 3-D, she says, “There was no turning back!”

Of course, it wouldn’t be a First Friday without treats and other artists, as well. I made a new kind of polka dot cookie to echo the dots in Karen’s work, and they turned out pretty and tasty.

There were also new works by Alicia Justice and Julia Janeway, and some fragile, lovely encaustic bowls by Frederick Swan.

There was a good turnout, even with the public health concerns of the Novel Coronavirus, and my cookies got eaten up!

It was a good evening for sales, too, with folks taking home jewelry, cards, and some small prints.

Hooray for art!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Fire Department History

Dear Liza,

Well, it looks like I am now working on two stories. I have Clara’s story, about a traumatized little girl learning to find her voice, which I have been working on for about two years. Clara lives on the west side of Portland in 1903.

The second story, which takes place at the same time, is about Henry, a working class boy who wants to go to college against his father’s wishes. Henry started out as part of the Clara story, but he is a really strong character and I want to give him his due.

One of the difficulties Henry has to overcome is the memory of his older brother, a juvenile delinquent who left town under a cloud of suspicion. I am hunting up ways for Henry to clear his and his family’s name, so I am looking into the Police and Fire protection procedures of the time. Last week I visited the Police History Museum and told you about it.

Yesterday I visited the historic Belmont Firehouse. I learned that in 1903, there were Fire Boxes about every four blocks here in the Eastside of Portland. If someone saw a fire, they could simply break the glass, pull the lever, and an electrical, Morse Code like message would be sent to every fire station. Each station knew which alarm had been pulled and which stations were closest, and the hook and ladder wagons would be on their way.

You can contrast this “Everyone report fires!” approach for fires to the locked Police boxes, which could only be unlocked and used by a Police officer. Obviously, early Portlanders, living in a crowded wooden city heated by wood stoves and powered by wood-fired steam engines, were much more worried about the whole place burning down than about an outbreak of lawlessness.

While I was at the station, I read more about David Campbell, a hero of a Fire Chief. He got the city to invest in internal combustion fire trucks, to replace the slower horse-drawn wagons. He led the department to its greatest, safest period ever, from 1897 to 1911.

And he died doing his duty, pulling the last injured firefighter out of a burning depot at the Union Oil pier at East Salmon before the building exploded.

All this history gives my Henry a lot of opportunities to redeem himself and I look forward to making it all work out for him.

Love,

Grandma Judy

More Portland Police History

Dear Liza,

Police Chief Hunt and his Officers in 1903

The city of Portland started in 1851, but didn’t have a Police Department until 1870. I guess before then, it was a pretty wide-open Western town, and folks were sort of on their own as far as dealing with crime.

The first Police Chief was James Lappeus, and he designed the uniforms based on English Policemen’s uniforms. The hats resemble English “Bobby” helmets. Their uniform, a key to the Police call box, and a whistle were the officer’s entire weaponry. It was a tough job.

In this photo of the Police force in 1903, Police Chief Charles Hunt stands with his department of 56 men. At the time, the population of Portland was 90,000, so there was about one police officer for every 1,500 people.

I know I missed a lot of Information, because I was focused on the year my story takes place, 1903. There were photographs of Trick motorcycle riding In the 1950s and even a Glockenspiel Quartet. I’m sure I will go back and learn some more!

To misquote John Steinbeck, “There’s always something to do in Portland”.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Portland Police History Museum

Dear Liza,

Pretty, old-fashioned streetlights near downtown

Well, the one story I was working on has split into two, and I am doing some more research, so Grandpa Nelson and I walked downtown yesterday. We headed down Yamhill to the Morrison Bridge though the neighborhoods, enjoying the bright blue sky and the occasional “I’m gonna get you!” cloud.

After we crossed the bridge, we stopped for lunch at the “food district” under Pioneer Plaza, and had some yummy sandwiches, fries, a milk shake, and even a yummy cookie from Bridge City Cafe. We were pooped, having walked nearly three miles, and wanted to get our strength up for….

The Portland Police History Museum! It’s in the Police Station on 2nd Street, just off the glittery marble lobby. When you see this fellow, you know you are there.

I was there to learn about police procedures that would have been in place in 1903, and to answer some questions.

How did you call for help or report a crime? You would need to find a policeman walking his beat, that’s how. The Police Call boxes, these wonderful cast iron inventions were installed every few blocks, but they were locked! Only police officers had keys.

Couldn’t you call on the phone? Nope. Even though many businesses and even homes had telephones as early as the 1890s, the Portland Police station didn’t have a switchboard until 1905.
How did Police Officers get their prisoners to jail? There were no Police Cars yet and the Police Department didn’t send officers out with wagons. So, once an arrest was made, the Policeman walked his prisoner to the nearest station.

The answers to these questions should help me tell an interesting, historically accurate story.

The Museum had other interesting exhibits, as well. I’ll tell you about them tomorrow!

P.S. Yes, I know the numbers are wrong. I can’t get them to line up properly.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Pink…. It’s Complicated

Dear Liza,

When I was growing up, I never liked the color pink. As the only girl in a male-oriented household, pink was “for girls”, which was always said in a way that implied it was weak, sissified, and not up-to-snuff. I saw it as a mark of different-ness and steered clear of it.

This disappointed my mother, I am sure. Your Great grandma Billie had waited all of her thirty-six years for a girl, putting up with Great Grandpa’s brothers hanging around and raising two boys of her own. Then she got me.

From the get-go, I favored dungarees and shirts to dresses. I climbed trees and got skinned knees. I had more boy friends than girls because I didn’t much care for Barbies or make up.

I tried to wear my hair long and wear dresses in High School, as a way of looking less freakish than I felt. Even as a young Mom, I wore skirts and even those wooden kindergarten-teacher necklaces, as a way of saying, “See? Nothing weird here!”

I was 40 when I finally stopped waiting to “grow out of” my boyish phase and embraced it. I cut my hair super short, bought my clothes at the men’s department at Sears, and started to make myself in my own image. I felt stronger and more confident, and less like I was failing at playing dress up.

Now that I am older and retired and I can wear what I want every day, it is still shirts and jeans, except when the weather gets really hot.

Last summer I bought a few long dresses because they are just looser and more comfortable. They make me look so elegant that I want to stop people and say, “This isn’t me, really, I’m just wearing it,” to make sure people don’t get the wrong impression.

I still steer clear of pink. Old prejudices die hard.

And Portland, my new hometown, is up to its Spring eyeballs in pink. Cherry blossoms, hyacinths, and Bergenias pop up all over town. Portland looks better in pink than I do, and I enjoy it every day.

Love,

Grandma Judy

The Sun Before the Storm

Dear Liza,

Spring is coming to Portland! The hyacinths are standing proud, cherry blossoms are drifting down like snow, and we are getting sun!

Last week only played at being sunny. Teasing us, being bright and sunny and luring us outside, but still really cold. But yesterday, POOF! It was sunny AND warm. It was so pretty, Grandpa Nelson and I went for a walk.

Well, technically, I was going to make dinner. But Grandpa Nelson mentioned “Salt and Straw” Ice Cream, and dinner got put back in the fridge to wait for a while.

Division Street used to feel like a long walk, but it’s only a mile south through lovely older neighborhoods of Victorians and Craftsman style homes. The oak trees are tall and fat, the steps properly mossy, the garden a bit shaggy. Politics is blooming. It was wonderful.

Once we got to “Salt and Straw”, there was a line inside and happy people sitting in the sun licking ice cream cones outside. It felt like summer, with people in shorts and sunglasses, chatting and taking selfies in the sun.

We stepped into the St. Honore Boulangerie next door to pick up a nice pain au chocolat for Auntie Bridgett, who was home with a cold, and headed back through the neighborhood.

And we saw these inky clouds over the bright pink trees, and knew that our sunshine would be short lived, that this coming week was going to be wet and cold.

Spring is tricky that way.

Love,

Grandma Judy