Judy – Page 118 – Dear Liza

Remembering Momma

Dear Liza,

Hazel, a friend, and Willie Vee, taking a break from picking cotton

As I have written in several other posts, your Great Grandma Billie was a very special lady. She was born and given the name Willie Vee Deal in Canute, Oklahoma, in 1921. She died 7 years ago today at the age of 92.

She was a typical woman of her generation, I suppose. She grew up on a small farm in Southwestern Oklahoma, picking cotton with her sisters and learning to drive a tractor at twelve.

She and her sister Hazel once daringly skipped Sunday School to watch a Nelson Eddie and Janet McDonald movie, but nearly died of fright when she caught sight of an uncle, and feared he would tell on them. “Silly,” Hazel said. “How would he explain that HE wasn’t in church?”

The two left Canute in 1943 so Hazel could be close to her fiancé, Raymond, who was stationed in San Diego. They built airplanes for Douglass Aircraft and lived the life of newly-independent young women.

Douglass was where her named changed from Willie Vee to Billie. “We’ve already got three Oakies on the floor named Willie”, said her foreman. “You’re Bill.” So she became Billie. She and Hazel joined the bowling league, used their ration books to buy sugar, and always went on double dates because so few fellows had cars.

Willie Vee (Billie) and Hazel, being like Rosie the Riveter

Momma met Dad because they worked in the same factory, but they didn’t meet at work. Momma wrote the company newsletter which was sent to ‘the boys’ who had been drafted or enlisted, to keep them up on who was dating whom and what the latest jokes were. Dad was one of the recipients of this monthly newsletter.

When he came to California on leave, he went home to Delano and found that his wife (who is now known as his first wife) had been using his paychecks to set up housekeeping with another fellow. He was heartbroken, his future down the drain. He did what any American boy would do, he said. He got drunk.

He somehow got on the bus and back to Manhattan Beach, the only other address he knew in California… Momma’s return address from the newsletter. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Momma took a chance on this divorced, card playing man, against her Methodist family’s wishes, and it worked out fine. They were giddily, happily married for 50 years.

Momma was a farm girl, a riveter, a mother, a librarian, a Little League baseball hot dog maker, a camper, a seamstress, and a role model for joy and loving-kindness. She is with me everyday, making sure I do my best for those around me.

I hope you and your family are taking care of each other during this odd time of Sheltering in Place.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Snowmen in Laurelhurst Park

Dear Liza,

I don’t think these even need words! Saturday, March 14, 2020, this is what was happening in Laurelhurst Park.

Not quite Olaf, but a pretty happy snowman, anyway

It was a wonderful day. Folks are self-isolating because of the state of emergency declared for the Coronavirus. Being at the park is public, but not too close. The snowmen were all at least a meter away from each other.

Love,

Grandma Judy

And then, Snow!

Dear Liza,

Saturday morning, we woke up to snow. It was just a dusting, and we went back to sleep. A few hours later, it was STILL snowing, and Grandpa Nelson decided it was time for a proper snow adventure, so we bundled up and headed off.

First, we saw our walkway, decorated with snow. The gnomes were wondering who put out the lights, apparently.

Then we noticed some tulips that had not seen the snow coming. I hope they can spring back!

Laurelhurst Park itself is lovely in any weather, but is a Narnia sort of beautiful in the snow. The Ravine always looks like Mr. Tumnis is going to show up any moment.

As we walked around, we saw dozens of families enjoying the snow. There were snowmen, snowball fights, dogs dashing around. It was a winter wonderland… in March. I will show you the snowmen tomorrow.

The lake was very pretty through the trees, as the snow came down and sat on the surface for just a minute before melting.

After our walk, we came in and hung our wet clothes up in front of the fire, and spent the rest of the day alternately watching TV and snow!

Love,

Grandma Judy

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