It was First Friday this past week, and there is a new show at the SideStreet Arts Gallery. I got to make a different kind of cookie for it.
Between having more time and patience, more confidence from watching the Great British Baking Show, and better equipment, I have been getting more creative in my baking. A few months ago I made some sugar cookies that echoed the colors and shapes in the art being shown at the SideStreet Arts Gallery.
This month, for Eugene Artist Christopher St. John, I did something fun, too. Mr. St. John’s ceramics and watercolors reflect an awareness that we humans need to consider our actions carefully so we conserve our natural world and its treasures.
Looking at works like “Shine Moth” inspired me to make cookies that could show the delicacy of insects. On Martha Stewart’s website, I found a recipe for “Fossil Cookies” and, with Auntie Bridgett’s artistic help, gave them an artsy spin.
The dough is very easy to make and handle, and the toy bugs we picked up at Kids at Heart Toys on Hawthorne made lovely fossil-looking dents. The cookies are then frozen and baked at a low temperature so they bake into a shortbread-like, delicious cookie. With a fossil. A pretty, food color painted fossil.
They are also delicious just patted out and cut with cookie cutters.
I have been reading a lot about Theodore Roosevelt lately. He was President during the time of my story, and my character, Clara, comes to identify with him. So I wanted to know more about him.
Theodore Roosevelt was the 26th president of the United States, serving from 1901 to 1909. I have always admired him for his work against corruption in business and government, and his drive to preserve the natural beauty of our forests and wild lands. He created five National Parks, including Wind Cave in South Dakota and Crater Lake here in Oregon. He hiked with John Muir in Yosemite.
I also admired his philosophy of personal responsibility. He was a great believer in taking charge of your own life and making it the best you could. “It is hard to fail, but harder still to never have tried,” he said. This idea that you make your life , one act at a time, echoed my own father’s belief, which I was brought up with.
But Mr. Roosevelt had some other ideas I don’t agree with. He was a ‘big game hunter’, which meant he traveled all over the world, killing animals and having them stuffed as trophies. I hate this about him. It turns this man I admire into a macho dude I can’t respect.
I knew that he invited African American educator Booker T. Washington to dinner at the White House in 1901. This led me to believe he was ahead of his time in his racial thinking, and that he saw other races as equal to his own.
But reading more of his own writings and policies, I realize that in his dealings with Native Americans, Filipino people, Hawaiians, Japanese and African Americans, he fully believed that white people were the superior ‘race’.
He wrote that “The world would have halted, had it not been for the Teutonic conquests in alien lands.”
In other words, he believed that white people taking over North America, the South Pacific, India, and other places, made those places better. This belief is called “American Imperialism”.
So Teddy Roosevelt did not grant to different-looking people the respect he claimed as his own. He believed that you were the master of your fate, but only if you were a white, male American. Not exactly what I was hoping for.
So now, I have some decisions to make. Do I continue to have my character admire and relate to Teddy, with all his faults? Do I even mention his short comings? Or do I find a way to include my own ambivalence about him?
Being a teacher, I want to get the information right. Being aware of human failings, I know that any ‘hero’ I set up, upon the closest of looks, will be found to have faults. And I had not expected the story to have to deal with any of this.
I guess it’s back to the drawing board, as they say. I’ll keep you posted.
Last night we went out to a new place to hear some old music. First, we took the magic 15 downtown to Killer Burger for dinner, enjoying the warmth and lights and people watching.
We walked down a block to The Rialto Bar, which is also a pool hall. It had a surprising amount of space for downtown, where square footage is pricey. We got Guinness, Two Towns Cider and vanilla vodka, and headed downstairs to the Jack London Bar for the music.
The music venue had a lovely basement-y feel, low ceilinged, dark walled, and warmly lit. A bar ran on one side, small copper topped tables faced the low stage, and everything had an old-time jazzy feeling. This was completely appropriate, since we had come to hear some vintage music, ala Count Basie, Cole Porter, and Glenn Miller. And this eleven piece group of trombones, trumpets, saxophones, a stand up bass, piano and drummer, delivered.
At the break I got to talk with Marco Pissarro, who plays alto saxophone. He gave me a little background on the band.
Carrol Raaum was a semi- retired clinical psychologist when he came to believe that music had healing properties for those afflicted with Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and other diseases that effect the brain. He put the band together to play at retirement homes and memory facilities as well as parties and celebrations of all kinds. Mr. Raaum passed away in 2008, but the band continues his good work.
Ellen Vanderslice and Morgan Dickerson both play trombone and also do vocals. The band played classics like “ Take the A Train”, but also a new arrangement of Cole Porter’s “Love for Sale”. Some of the harmonies were hit and miss, but the overall effect was delightful.
Their ‘frontman’, the spokesman for the band, is Eric Olsen. He plays trombone and looks a little like Danny De Vito. After the show when I congratulated him on his ability to keep all those jazz musicians working together, he shook my hand and said, “Hell, I taught fourth grade for forty years. This is easy!” I can relate.
When it was nearly ten, the band was done for the evening, and so were we. We called a Lyft car and got home, glad to be out of the 32 degree night air and into our warm pajamas.
We like to have lots of art around at our house. Auntie Bridgett is an artist, so some of our walls are covered with her work. It is cheerful and sometimes silly, and it always cheers me up.
This past Christmas, Auntie Bridgett gave Grandpa Nelson and me a new piece of art! It is called “Let it Be” and was painted by Mark Dunst, whose studio we visited last fall. We like his work so much that Auntie Bridgett invited him to show his work at the SideStreet Arts Gallery, as well.
Anyway, Bridgett took some time Sunday and hung “Let it Be” in the hallway by the dining room. It nestles nicely next to Johnny Apaodaca’s painting of a Umbrian Lake. It is wonderful.
We have other Portland art on our walls, as well. Sharon Jonquil’s encaustics greet us coming up the stairs.
But we actually got our very first piece of art by a Portland area resident in 1981, before we ever moved here! We were living in Eugene, Oregon, and a neighbor had decided he didn’t want his paintings anymore. He gave us our choice, and we chose this wonderful bicycle painting. He is now living in Troutdale, just east of town. Thanks, David Gettman!
I wasn’t raised with art. My parent’s house had a Robert Wood seascape print over the stereo and my mother’s paint by number landscapes by the TV. I feel blessed to have real art, and real artists, in my life.
Yes, it is still grey and wet here, but new life is popping up out of the mud. Every walk shows me new things.
Some daffodils are blooming, but those up the street are still biding their time. They will explode into yellow in a few weeks.
Other bulbs are coming up, too. These tiny iris live just down the block and are making the most of any sun we get.
Laurelhurst Park’s ravine area is a flooded, muddy mess, with an occasional happy Labrador splashing through. But near the top of the hill, the camellias are blooming.
The first crocuses are up, having a week of delicate glory before getting pummeled by the rain.
And, as always, the moss makes everything soft, wet and green. This old portion of a sidewalk from 1911 has been rescued, moss and all, and been installed in a yard. I love that someone appreciated it enough to do that. I sigh in quiet joy.
After a brief flirtation with the sun, our faithful wet weather has returned. Saturday morning, we all ventured out for some coffee and pastry. Three sets of boots and three umbrellas went trudging down the hill to The Frog.
This funky old Craftsman style house at SE Belmont and 25th was called the Portland Coffee House for years, then became The Rocking Frog. The Portland Coffee House must have had a literary bent, too, because some of the books at The Rocking Frog still bear the stamp!
We love it for the freshly made doughnuts and coffee, but mostly for the cozy ambiance. The walls are lined with bookshelves which invite reading, thinking, and literary loitering. The small copper topped tables are filled with small groups of soft voice chatters or silent readers.
And on a wet chilly day, the warmth and conversation is irresistible. We looked at books randomly pulled from shelves. I found “ The White Cliffs”, a novel in the form of short poems. It was written by feminist author Alice Duer Miller, whose writing encouraged America’s entry into World War II.
Next, I pulled up “Ultimate Topiaries”, whose pictures of sunny, and even snowy, gardens, raised my February spirits. Reading always leads to conversations and we had, and overheard, quite a few.
When it was time to leave, a young lady at the next table noticed my Hufflepuff scarf and we had a delightful conversation about how the world needs helpers, not just heroes. Griffendores get all the attention for their battles, but we Puffs clean up afterwards and make dinner.
We had more errands to run during the day, but we were fueled and warmed by our hour in The Frog. We could do anything.
Yesterday, we got a break in the weather. It was actually sunny for five hours! Grandpa Nelson wanted a long walk, and I went along.
We headed north over the Banfield Freeway and up to Helen Bernhardt Bakery for doughnuts and cinnamon rolls, then crossed the street into Broadway Books. This is a new bookstore for me. Last year it hosted Michelle Obama for a reading and signing of her book, “Becoming”. It must have been crowded!
The shop was bright and featured local authors, including this posters for the movie “Wild”, signed by author Cheryl Strayed. There were also books out that parody President Trump.
Continuing down Broadway and planning to cross the Steel bridge, we came upon Kitchen Kaboodle, a fancy kitchen shop. “Would they have your things?” Grandpa Nelson asked. I have been looking for new baking pans to fit the new silpats I got for Christmas.
They did, and we bought them! Of course, they were heavy, so we redirected. Instead of crossing the bridge and bussing home, we took a different path and walked home.
We went through Lloyd Center, which was built in 1960 and has an ice skating rink that has been used by thousands of kids and grownups, including local Olympic contender Tonya Harding.
Grandpa Nelson got some delicious Carmelcorn from Joe Brown’s, the oldest shop in the mall. It was here when the mall opened! The current owner is Joe’s daughter.
We passed Benson Polytechnic Institute, a high school built in 1916 with funds donated by local lumberman and philanthropist Simon Benson. He is the fellow who gave all those water bubblers to the city. There is even in in front of the school!
We stopped at the food carts on the way home to have a sit down and get something to drink, then Grandpa Nelson headed home (carrying the heavy baking sheets) and I went to get my hair cut at Yen’s.
By the time I got home, I had walked six miles! Not bad for an old Grandma.