Judy – Page 127 – Dear Liza

Thinking about Turkey

Dear Liza,

Momma Billie Evans, in her Lompoc kitchen, circa 2009

It is now just a week before I get to start fixing things for Thanksgiving. The day before the holiday will also be Cousin Jasper’s 10th birthday, so there will be party preparations, as well.

It is odd that when I look back on past Thanksgivings I remember the family and games, but when I look forward to the upcoming one, I think of the food that needs making. Particularly, the turkey.

Salinas Thanksgiving set-up and eight year old Kyle

For whatever reason, I have never had any success with roasting the enormous birds. They are never done right, either too pink or stone dry, and investing that much money and energy into something that I have no confidence in was, and is, exhausting.

Back when I was a kid, Thanksgiving was a dizzying blur of family and food. An assortment of my dad’s large family would show up early in the day, and we would climb trees and ride bikes until tons of food magically appeared, weighing down Momma’s old table. We ate, watched football, and played cards and Scrabble until the day just faded away.

Even when my kids came and I was THE MOM, we still went to my parents’ house for the holiday. I helped, of course, but the dinner-making magic was still my mother’s magic.

Grandpa Nelson, me, Auntie Christy and Uncle Jim, in Lompoc

The year my sister-in-law Christy suggested my then-85-year-old Momma order the dinner from the local Von’s Market was a revelation. Food and family without wearing out the Mom! Thanks, Christy!

After Momma passed we would go to visit Auntie Bridgett’s family for the holiday. There were three turkeys, three cooks, and literally a twenty-foot-long table. Again, I was off the hook for the BIG stuff.

We are staying home this year. There will be fewer folks around Momma’s same old table. And, at the urging of Grandpa Nelson and Auntie Bridgett and thanks to Christy, we are ordering our turkey already roasted from the local market. I can now look forward to family and games.

Thanks, guys!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Books with Pictures Update

Dear Liza,

I have told you about Auntie Katie’s store, Books with Pictures, down on Division Street here in Portland. After thriving in a rented space at 12th and Division for three years, her new shop opened this past July 6th, after a huge building renovation and a community assisted, bike-centric moving day. It was a lot of work!

Katie was able to buy the 1927 building with the help of investors, and paid for the move and repairs with a Kickstarter campaign. As with all Kickstarters, she posted it on Facebook.

Auntie Katie stepping up and learning new skills

She offered different rewards for different levels of pledges, and raised more than she asked for! And yesterday, the pledge rewards arrived. The shop is full of them! Art prints, t-shirts, tote bags and other goodies are in boxes, waiting for Katie’s supporters. Many local fans will come by and pick the goodies up. Those destined for folks out of town will be mailed.

I am so proud of Auntie Katie. She has taken her wild dream of owning and running an inclusive, community supporting bookshop, and made it happen. When lack of money got in the way, she figured out how to get it. When too much work was the obstacle, she worked harder. She learned about plumbing, electricity, and woodworking. She hired skilled friends and worked with them.

And all this while raising Cousins Jasper and Kestrel to be kind, confident, and well-read kids.

Word has spread that Books with Pictures is THE place to go for comics, graphic novels, and illustrated books. When I am out and about in town and I mention Books with Pictures, people know it and love it. “Katie’s your daughter?” They say. “She’s wonderful!”

I agree.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Across the Banfield

Dear Liza,

I wanted to go for a walk the other day., and Grandpa Nelson decided to come with me. It looked like it could rain, so of course we left the umbrella at home.

Walking through the Laurelhurst neighborhood, we kept a sharp lookout for early Christmas decorations. We had read about a family that got scolded by their neighborhood association for putting up trees and such “too early”. But we didn’t see any!

What we did see was evidence of Thanksgiving and football loyalties. This turkey looks bit puzzled, as though he suspects his owners are not committed to his long term good health. His family also supports the Washington State Cougars.

Down the block we found this house with an inflated Bernie Beaver out front, so there is a lot of college football love around here.

Going north, Grandpa Nelson showed me this nifty pedestrian bridge over the Banfield Freeway. It is very noisy, going over ten lanes of traffic, but gets you safely across, anyway.

What is odd that the little bridge transports you from the tree-heavy, arts and crafts neighborhood of Laurelhurst smack dab into the middle of the bustling Hollywood District.

By now I realized Grandpa Nelson’s hidden agenda: Fleur de Lis Bakery! Of course, I was a willing participant. The croissants were lovely.

By the time we walked back home, we had covered about 5 miles and were well worn out. But what a nice adventure into the fall colors!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Winter Comes Dripping In

Dear Liza,

I know winter doesn’t really start until December 21st, but it feels like it has already landed here in Portland.

The leaves have fallen from most of the maples. The ginkgoes are still blazing yellow, as if trying to hold off winter’s arrival. But it is cold. It is dark. And it is wet.

Inside where it is warm and dry, we are planning for Thanksgiving. The turkey will be bought pre-cooked from New Seasons Markets but the rest will be homemade…two potatoes, two breads, and maybe three pies, as Auntie Katie has offered two!! And cookies, of course.

Evenings are long now that it gets dark at five o’clock. I have gotten fabric out for another ‘Circles’ pillow. I’ve gotten some books from the library to read to help me with my Teacher Voice problem.

Scrabble games are a regular thing. Last night’s went wrong in a spectacular way….we managed to play ourselves into a corner and almost couldn’t finish!

And, although it seems a bit premature, Christmas movies are being listed, researched and pulled from their boxes. The Bishop’s Wife and Charlie Brown, We’re No Angels and way too many of the Christmas Carols. We have our priorities, after all.

We are ready for winter!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Teacher Voice

Dear Liza,

THIS is the sort of reader interest I’m after…

I was a teacher for thirty years. It was my job, my passion, my hobby. It became who I was.

Teachers talk about their “Teacher voice”. This is loud (but not yelling) way that teachers get thirty kids to listen to them. It can be stern, or disapproving. It is usually just matter-of- fact. But it is never FUN. It is never meant to make folks feel at ease or get them to laugh. It is an information delivery system.

Mine was good, too. I speak fluent Teacher.

Writers also talk about their Voice. It is their point of view, their style, their way of choosing words to make readers feel a certain way. It needs to be easy to read, entertaining, quirky. FUN.

Unfortunately for me, my Teacher voice seems to be getting in the way of my Writer voice. After months of studious revision, I still write with a very strong Teacher accent.

On the way to the Japanese Garden yesterday, Jasper asked me to remind him about Sacajawea, whose statue we passed. “But don’t say it like a teacher,” he said.

First, I determined not to be offended. This is a perfect “out of the mouths of babes” moment. I needed to learn from it.

Then I saw that if I couldn’t use my Teacher voice, I needed to use another voice, any other voice. You can’t speak without a Voice! So I borrowed a New York/ New Jersey gangster voice, jiggling my shoulders like James Cagney to help it along.

“Okay, see, there’s this President, see, Thomas Jefferson. Nice guy, writes well, even doh he owns slaves. He sends these two guys, Lewis and Clark, haulin’ clear across the country. Go! He says. These poor slobs had No Idea where they were going!” I went on to tell a shortened version of the story, just enough to make Jasper laugh and let him remember what he knew about Sacajawea.

Ironically, the main character of my story is a little girl who has become mute due to trauma. She has literally lost her voice.

How can I find my own voice to tell this story? How could I possibly write my story, in someone else’s voice?

Love,

Grandma Judy

Japanese Garden with Cousins

Dear Liza,

I love visiting the Japanese Garden here in Portland. It is a wonderful collection of smaller gardens situated on a hilly section of Washington Park. There is always something new and delightful to see.

Yesterday, Cousins Jasper and Kestrel went with me! We usually visit the Lan Su Chinese Garden downtown, but Jasper suggested going up the hill and Kestrel agreed.

After we caught the number 2 bus and got downtown, we had fifteen blocks to walk and about half an hour to catch the 63 bus that would take us up the hill. We strolled through the city streets, playing with public art and making up stories about the statues.

There was a long line at the entrance to the garden, and the kids worried about not being able to enjoy it because of the crowd. We decided to risk it.

It turns out, crowds in a garden are like freight trains in a neighborhood. They are noisy and annoying, but if you wait a minute, they blow through, leaving peace behind.

There is an art exhibit at the Pavilion Gallery called “Re-Fashioning Beauty”. The brochure says it is about “embracing past icons of Japanese beauty while looking forward.” There were several articles, never meant to be worn, showing the natural but ridiculous evolution of the platform shoe.

They make my toes hurt just looking at them!

There were also three foot tall Geisha-style hairpins, but they weren’t as interesting as these swords and other pieces of sculpture set into perfectly clear blocks of resin. We all became fascinated with the refraction of light though the blocks and spent a long time just moving, squinting, and looking.

Because of the way the art was displayed, I would never have noticed the refraction on my own: The kids found it because they were at exactly the right height. Playing with light became the new game.

We told stories, climbed steps, crossed bridges, and had a high old time.

Our trip home became a cascade of bumps on the road. We got hungry and checked out the Umami Cafe, but found food not acceptable to picky eaters. I remembered our friendly vendor at the Rose Garden. We headed down for kid friendly snacks, but he had packed up for other locations for the winter.

We made do with a candy bar from the gift shop and went to catch the bus back to town. But (another snag!) that bus wouldn’t arrive for almost an hour! I made an executive decision. We would walk down the hill.

This was not a popular idea, as it turned out, but one I was willing to stick with. We actually had a nice surprise, running into our old friend, Rabbi Bruce Kadden, on the way! But energy and patience were running out, so a quick hug and how do you do, and off we went.

The cousins and I chatted and rolled balls down the path until we got to Burnside, where we caught a bus to another bus and eventually ended up at Auntie Katie’s store. Minutes later, Auntie Bridgett picked me up.

It was time for a quick dinner and restful evening. Being a Grandma is fun, but hard work!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Wanderin’ Around

Dear Liza,

I am thinking about starting a new story. The one I have been working on, about Clara getting ready to be in the 1903 parade, is being edited and, therefore, out of my hands for now.

But they say that you get better at writing by writing…. so I will keep writing on a different story, using a side character from the first story as the main character. Her name is Abigail Lott and, at the time I am writing about, she is 21 years old.

I think better when I walk, and always love talking my ideas over with Grandpa Nelson. He asks good questions and makes me think. Of course he does! The same things that make him a good ‘idea guy’ are the reasons I have loved him for so long.

So we walked… about five miles in all, down to the river, across the Willamette River on the Morrison Bridge, and north about three blocks to the Pine Street Market, a big old building now being used as offices above and a luncheon/ mall below. There are sausage sandwiches, stuffed pork buns, pizza, ramen, and ice cream. We’ve eaten there before, and we both love Bless Your Heart Burger best.

Portland Saturday Market by the Skidmore Fountain

Our walk was mostly grey. Fall has moved past the warm and sunny part into the drizzly, rain-ish part. All the colors come from the leaves that are still changing color and drifting like bright snow.

By the Portland Saturday Market near the river, we saw this art installation, a tribute to the city’s firefighters, called “Ascension”. I must have walked right past it many times, but never noticed it! Silly Grandma Judy.

As we crossed back over the river, we got a panorama of the city, and it looked like a Dutch painting , as though it were painted by the Master of Browns (this was the nickname Vincent Van Gogh gave his uncle, a professional artist).

One our way back, we saw this message spelled out with Post it Notes in a shop window.

It is a quote from a young New Zealand woman making a speech in their hall of government. In just two words, she managed to say, “Look, I know you older folks had good intentions. I know you are used to being the center of the Universe, but you’ve kind of screwed the world up and if you could just step aside, we’ll have a go at it now, okay?” And I’m okay with that!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Art Pop-Up

Dear Liza,

This weekend we got to meet some more Portland artists!

Auntie Bridgett and I walked through a light rain to Dona White’s house and met her, Kass Battin and Bobby Mathews, and had a wonderful chat while enjoying their art. The art looked especially fine hanging against the bright wallpapers.

Dona White paints in many styles; abstracts, figures, and a wild, fun Impressionism.

Bobby Mathews paints people, animals and country scenes with a light, humorous style. Some are taken from old family photos and others from visits to farms that surround the Portland are.

Kass Battin is a woman after my own heart, a quilter. She and I chatted for quite a while about sewing machines (she has a fine Bernina) and fabric shops ( we share our love of Cool Cottons). I loved her use of bright colors contrasted with black and white prints.

We enjoyed our visit very much, and headed out into the nearly clearing skies and made it home in time for lunch.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Jury Duty

Dear Liza,

Well, I guess I’m really a Portlander now…I’ve done Jury Duty! Actually, I never got on a jury, but I spent Wednesday and Thursday mornings sitting in Room 130 of the old Multnomah County Courthouse waiting for my name to be called. So, that’s something.

Of course, the fun part was being inside the courthouse. This beautiful old place was built in 1911, and by this time next year will be replaced by a NEW courthouse, a few blocks south. The current building can’t be torn down, but will be re-purposed as apartments or something, because it is an historic building.

The architecture is solid and sturdy, as you would hope from a courthouse. There are travertine floors, carved finials, and heavy wooden doors. Since I didn’t get into a court room, I can’t describe that to you.

The jury room is big enough to hold 200 people, mostly sitting in comfy chairs. There is an oddly exuberant painting on the wall of a Jester driving a circus wagon. I looked for a title but didn’t find one, and never caught Maia Ming, our delightful Jury Duty Clerk, away from her desk to ask her about it.

Ms Ming kept us entertained through the long mornings with asking trivia questions whenever she was about to call jurors to a courtroom. “What Christmas song, when listened to by goats, encourages the most milk production?” She asked. Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You”, of course! But you can’t question trivia science.

Along one wall there is a small room marked “Storage”, which has been turned into a small library with books donated by the Multnomah County Library system. I found a very good read, “Jonathan Unleashed” by Meg Rosoff, which I finished in two days. There is a sticker that says the book doesn’t need to be returned, so I will put it in a tiny library next time I am out.

Once I was released, I enjoyed the rest of my time downtown by enjoying lunch at Fogo de Chao, a Brazilian Steakhouse that I have had my eyes on for a while.

The menu is organized into odd parts…. you can have free rein at their upscale salad bar, called The Market Table, for fifteen dollars. This includes fresh, marinated and roasted veggies as well as olives, mushrooms, and all sorts of Brazilian sausages and meats.

My plate… cheese, lots of veggies, and a few slices of sausage

For a little more, you can have the “Vaqueros” come by and cut you chunks of pork, steak, or whatever. But I know my limits. Besides, there was a dessert tray.

After enjoying a plate of mostly veggies with s few slices of sausage, I asked for the waiter’s favorite and got Coconut Cream dessert topped with ice cream. Very sweet, and almost too much, but I soldiered through.

I needed a nice walk to make sure everything stayed put, so I wandered through the fall colors downtown. So pretty!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Accident

Dear Liza,

Today while I was out walking, a lady named Susan got hit by a truck while crossing Belmont Street at 35th Avenue. I was the second person to stop at the scene.

A gentleman driving a brand new Toyota Tacoma truck had slowed down for a cyclist crossing Belmont going north, and started up again, not seeing Susan over the very high hood of his truck. He stopped again immediately, but she was already hurt and sitting on the pavement just in front of his truck, bleeding from her right temple.

The first witness was already calling 911, so I sat down next to Susan there in the street. I asked her name, if she lived nearby, letting her know that help was on the way and that she was in good hands.

I noticed that Susan was holding a ‘poop bag’ and asked if she had been walking her dog. Yes, she nodded. The first witness told me she had gotten the dog out of the intersection and tied him to a sign nearby. I stuck around, sitting by the dog, letting the EMTs know the pup belonged to their patient. Another passerby stopped and petted the dog for a while.

A doctor pulled over and she took control, talking to Susan and taking her vital signs. Within 5 minutes the Fire Department, Police and EMTs arrived, working their magic to close the intersection, collect information, and care for Susan.

Susan gets gurneyed onto the ambulance

Before I left, Susan’s daughter came and took possession of the dog, who willingly went with the welcome, familiar face.

As Susan had a neck brace applied and was loaded into the ambulance, I stood, catching my breath from this vicariously scary adventure. I said thanks to everyone who had made this less awful for Susan. I was grateful to see that good people stop and care for strangers, even in a big city.

Love,

Grandma Judy