Uncategorized – Page 154

Swinging Symphony

Dear Liza,

One of the many things I love about Portland is that theater and music are everywhere! Last night we took the number 15 to The Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall downtown and enjoyed “Swing is the Thing”.

But first, dinner! The Artbar, a pretty restaurant in the same theater complex, fed us not-too-fancy quiches, fries, and nice local wines. As we entered the lobby of the theater, we heard applause coming from the balcony and went to investigate. Two pairs of dancers were jitterbugging to lively swing music, egged on by the well-dressed crowd. We could tell we were in for a good time.

“The Schnitz”, as it is sometimes called, was built in 1928 and has been restored to its historic voluptuousness. Ceiling decoration, lighting, and painted iron railings all let you know you are in a special place. The performance included the entire Oregon Symphony, directed by Jeff Tyzik and, at certain points, the theater took on the feeling of a opulent lecture hall, with Mr. Tyzik explaining the finer points of jazz and swing and how they morphed into early rock and roll.

Mr. Tyzik and the Symphony were assisted by Julie Jo Hughes, a wonderful vocalist, and Dave Bennett, who plays clarinet and does vocals as well as a wicked Jerry Lee Lewis turn on the piano. Dancers Stephen Sayer, Chandrae Roettig, Hunter Krikac and Karine Hermes came on stage every now and then to stun us with gravity-defying moves and light footwork.

**Dancers put on a show before the show!**

The first half of the program was dedicated to swing music, starting with “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”, “Pennsylvania 6-5000” and “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore”. There was also an original piece called “Harlem Street Scene”, written by director Tyzik. It had a swingy, jazzy dissonance that was easy on the ears but definitely not boring.

The second half was rock and roll, and not nearly as good as the swing portion. If it were not for Dave Bennett’s crazy acrobatics on the piano, the music selections would have felt disappointingly like a mother-daughter dance.

No, I take that back. A song that was not even listed on the program, Julie Jo Hughes singing Peggy Lee’s “Fever”and taking a turn dancing with Mr. Tyzik as he was conducting, was knock down gorgeous.

When the show was over, we crossed the street to catch the bus back home, along with some other music lovers and a violinist. Another lovely night in Portland!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Searching for Dinner

Dear Liza,

First, the exciting news: We finally got to see one of Portland’s drawbridges, the Morrison, actually UP! Of course, we were trying to cross it at the time, so this meant that we waited in traffic for an extra 20 minutes, but it felt very Portland-ish.

This happened the other day while we were heading to the traffic nightmare that is Portland’s South Waterfront. This part of the city is full of new construction, looming overhead freeways, labyrinthine detours, and part of the OHSU Medical Center. After 30 minutes finding a parking space and getting up to the tenth floor, we were rewarded with wonderful views of the Willamette River and the Ross Island, Tilikum, Marquam, and Hawthorne Bridges.

**View of four bridges from the tenth floor**

We admired the view, had a short chat with the doctor, scheduled another appointment, and headed down to find our way out of the maze before the Minotaur found us.

**“Schoolhouses are the Republican Line of Fortifications” said Horace Mann**

By then it was dinner time and we were brain dead and hungry. We headed for Revolution Hall on SE 12th, formerly Washington High School, now repurposed as offices. There is a restaurant called “Martha’s” on the first floor and a bar on the roof. This beautifully designed and preserved school from 1924 is the Alma Mater of Linus Pauling, a famous and controversial scientist, and there are several portraits of him in the foyer.

**Portrait of Linus Pauling at Revolution Hall**

Again, we hunted for parking and when we finally got in, “Martha’s” didn’t have what we wanted and the other place (which I have never been to but Grandpa Nelson and Auntie Bridgett love) was closed for redecorating.

Heavy sigh. Back to the car, around a newly arrived and hastily parked ambulance, and off again, hungrier than ever.

Auntie Bridgett remembered The Belmont Station on SE Stark. We entered through the cider and beer shop, through the bar, and out the back door to Monk’s Deli, a food truck that sells sandwiches and French fries. By combining everything, we were able to assemble a delicious meal and recharge in the lovely open patio, petting dogs and catching our breath.

Watching the light change from blazing afternoon white to mellow evening rose, we arrived home, happy to be out of traffic, fed, and together.

Love,

Grandma Judy

More Fall Beauty

Dear Liza,

The sunshine has returned! I thought it was gone until Spring, but this week has been as bright and dry as August in Salinas.

I have pictures but no words, so I will borrow some from the English poet John Keats, who wrote it in the fall of 1819.

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfullness

Close-bosomed friend of the maturing sun

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel-shells

With sweet kernal; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells…

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too.

North to Dixon Street

Dear Liza,

I am still researching about Portland history, and I’m learning so much! Besides the history, I am learning about how to get around Portland without driving. Yesterday I needed to get to 501 North Dixon, a part of town I had never been in. That’s where the Portland Public Schools keep their archives.

Googlemaps told me there was no transit solution, and I should walk. Almost 4 miles, one way? Carrying research on my back? Um, nope. Thanks anyway, Google.

I chatted with Steven Hanks, the fellow at the District who was pulling files for me. He suggested the number 17 bus, which passes within a few blocks of the office. Grandpa Nelson suggested the Portland Streetcar. There were so many options, and the only way to see which was best was to do them. I chose the bus method first, taking the number 15 downtown, walking a few blocks, and catching the 17.

Downtown Portland always show me something new. This time it was that a 13 block stretch of SW Stark Street was renamed Harvey Milk Street in June of this year. I am proud of my city for recognizing this important gay activist. Well, first I was confused, because I was looking for a bus stop on Stark. But then I was proud.

Catching the 17 took me through the Pearl District and old Chinatown, past the fabulously old Union Station, where people have been catching trains since 1896. Then over the Broadway Bridge and into Northeast Portland. Down in the second sub-basement was Steven, who had found all sorts of wonderful history for me.

As I learn more about schools of 1903, my story keeps adapting. I have been a teacher too long to play fast and loose with facts. So the walking field trip in my story had to get written out, because there were no ‘field trips’ in American elementary schools in the early 1900s. “Kids in school should stay in school”, was the thought. I had included a scene in the school cafeteria, but schools of that time didn’t have them. Kids ate lunches brought from home at their classroom desks. As it is often said, good stories are not written. They are re-written, and re-written…

Heading home, I decided to try Grandpa Nelson’s suggestion, because the Portland Streetcar was as close as the bus. The A Loop runs clockwise, the B Loop, counterclockwise, in a large oval from the Eastside to the Westside of the city. The A Loop would take me within a block of the number 15 for my trip home, so I waited in the Fall sunshine by a delightfully ‘retro’ shelter.

On the streetcar I chatted with folks visiting from Massachusetts and a potter who works at the Radius Community Art Studio, just under the Morrison Bridge. Another new place to explore!

Walking from the Streetcar to the bus stop, I realized I was fading fast and needed a snack. A perfect opportunity to try the NEW place that smells so good: Pufflewaffle! This pretty shop just opened last month. They sell Pufflewaffles, which are unique, cake-like made-to-order waffles which look like tiny round pillows sewn together. They are sweet and light, and rolled around ice cream. After that, I was ready to make my way home, where I rested and thought about how lucky I am to live here.

Love,

Grandma Judy

An Evening with Colonel Roosevelt

Dear Liza,

Yesterday was a good day. I got another draft of my story done, Auntie Bridgett made some very nifty art, and we got to take the bus downtown to spend time with Theodore Roosevelt.

Well, sort of. We went to the First Congregational Church to watch Joe Wiegand do his amazingly funny, historic and touching portrayal of our 26th president. We saw the show last October and enjoyed it very much. It was presented by the Oregon Historical Society and sponsored by Wells Fargo Bank, and admission was free! Just like last year, the church was full.

**The Organ at First Congregational Church**

Even before the show began, Mr. Wiegand was circulating in the crowd, shaking hands and chatting with friends old and new. I summoned my nerve and went over to ask for a photo, and we had a lovely conversation about wrestling with brothers and expanding one’s horizons. Mr. Wiegand, in his Teddy persona, has a way of making everyone feel like the most interesting person he has ever met.

In his introduction, Carey Timchik of The Oregon Historical Society let us know that this was Mr. Wiegand’s fifth performance of the day. He has been touring schools, libraries, and historical societies all over the state, sharing his love of Teddy and our history with kids. Mr. Timchik also told us the Wells Fargo Bank was the first bank to do business with Chinese Americans here in Portland, back in the early 20th century, when all the other banks shut them out.

Mr.Wiegand shared familiar stories of Teddy’s life; of being a sickly boy who had to build his body up by boxing and exercise, of raising his rowdy bunch of children in the White House, of losing his son Quentin in World War I.

He told us that last year, he (Mr. Wiegand) traveled to France with a young man who was portraying Theodore’s son Quentin. They visited Chamery, the small town where the real Quentin’s plane was shot down and Quentin died in 1918. That small town has re-named their elementary school from Ecole Premiere to Ecole Quentin Roosevelt, to remember the young American who died fighting for French freedom. This was so touching, we all choked up a bit.

But my favorite story of the evening came in response to a question. “What did you and John Muir talk about in your three day tour of The Yosemite in 1903?”

“If you must know, there around the campfire, John Muir scolded me about my love of hunting,” admitted Teddy. “Mr. President, he said, when will you get over this childish need to shoot everything?” The two men, though both conservationists, had very different ideas about what wilderness was for. Mr. Roosevelt wanted it used for the greatest good for the most people, and Mr. Muir wanted it protected from any touch of man. This is a debate that we are still having.

When Mr. Wiegand had finished his talk, Mr. Timchik came out and raffled off an enormous Teddy Bear, earning a $500 donation to the Society. There was laughter, applause, smiles all around, and off we went. The evening was still warm enough to be comfortable in just light jackets while we waited for the bus home.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Gail Owen, Print Artist

Dear Liza,

One of the artists that is showing at SideStreet Arts along with Auntie Bridgett is Gail Owen. Gail had her home studio open Saturday as part of Portland Open Studio Tour, and we went by to visit. I always love to see how artists make their magic, and print making, with its steps which must happen in reverse, has always fascinated me.

Gail came to print making after a career in aerospace, working for the Boeing Corporation. We talked about the different aircraft plants in California. My dad worked for Douglas Aircraft for many years and she had almost worked at ‘his’ Long Beach plant. Finding commonality with new people is always a treat. Her experience with parts and engineering gave her a leg-up on printmaking, she said. It made sense to her.

A self-taught printer, Gail began with small format prints with just a few colors, and worked her way up to much larger pieces, some of which are two by three feet. These larger pieces are made up of sections, each one designed and printed on its own and then sewn together, matted, and framed. The accuracy needed at every stage is amazing and intimidating.

Gail walked us through her process, which starts with taking black and white photos of flowers in her neighborhood. Then she chooses her color palette, working with up to eight colors on one print. She cuts into linoleum sheets to make her pattern, cutting away each section as she gets it the way she likes it. Once she is finished, that piece of linoleum is a mess, with sections gouged away, and can never be used again.

When Gail only wants to use a few colors, or make many more prints, she uses a process where she has different stamps for each color. Each stamp has only the part of the picture that will be in that color. This process makes more sense to me, but is still incredibly precise.

Gail also uses her printing to decorate wooden toys worked with strings, such as her Flying Hearts and Climbing Bears. There is a simplicity and whimsy in all her work which is very endearing.

I am grateful that Gail took the time to show us her art and her process, and happy that I get to see her work at SideStreet Arts!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Spooky Jazz

Dear Liza,

Portland is getting ready for Halloween! Houses are getting decorated, shops are selling costumes, and entertainment is taking on a decidedly eerie feel.

Last Friday, we all went down to the Clinton Street Theater, a movie house built in 1915 at SE Clinton and 26th, for a “Ghostly Gala” put on by the Ne Plus Ultra Jass Orchestra.

Before we even got into the show, we knew it was going to be fun. We had dressed up, and others had, as well. The poster was old-timey spooky and looked like someone with a sense of humor had designed it.

The Ne Plus Ultra Jass Orchestra is a band of ten, plus a visiting violinist. There was a drummer, pianist, banjo, three reed players, a coronet, trumpet, and trombone. This group, with band leader Samuel Murray Hawkins, brought the creepy popular music from the early twentieth century to life. Hawkins was dressed as Gomez Addams, and brought that sense of style and irony to the whole show.

Some of the tunes were very old, such as “At the Devil’s Ball”, an early Irving Berlin tune from 1913, and “Spooky Spooks” from 1916. But a common musical motif in the tunes was even older. Chopin’s “Funeral March”, written in 1839, has that ominous phrase that all cartoons play when Death enters the picture.

**Band Leader Samuel Murray Hawkins, with the Phantom of the Opera on piano**

The show also featured dancers of the Washington Dance Collective, two young people who moved to the bouncy music while dressed as Pugsley and Wednesday Addams. During the evening there was a costume contest, where Grandpa Nelson, as Napoleon, stood between a flapper and Ra, the God of Egypt. Ra won, maybe because he was a tiny cute boy, and maybe because no one wants to irritate an ancient God.

The last song of the evening was one of Auntie Bridgett’s favorites, “Mysterious Mose”, so we left on a high note, caught a Lyft car home, and fell into bed. I wonder if I have energy for two and a half more weeks of pre-Halloween activities!

Love,

Grandma Judy

New Bookstores!!

Dear Liza,

**The Front of Backstory Books and Yarn**

You know how much I love books. The hardest things we gave away when we were moving were all those old friends between covers. But now I can see all my old friends and even make new ones: There are two new bookshops in the neighborhood!

I’ve mentioned Backstory Books and Yarn, on Hawthorne. This is a bookshop which has recently changed hands and re-opened. The former owner is in her 80s and has retired, selling the shop to Amanda, the new owner. The former owner still lives in the house in back of the shop, though. It must be rewarding to see the business she built with her late husband continue to grow and thrive.

I hope she can make it happen, since she is just a few blocks away from Powell’s Books on Hawthorne, which is a branch of the bigger Powell’s store downtown and very strong competition.

Closer to our house is Belmont Books, on Belmont Street, which is so new it doesn’t even have a sign yet. We visited the other day and met Joe, the proprietor, and Mitch, his friend and fellow book-scout. Belmont Books is smaller than Backstory, but the stock is very well-chosen. We chatted with Joe about his process of collecting books, and he mentioned the Belmont library “Friends of the Library” book sale, which sounds like something I will need to look for.

**Still waiting for a proper sign on Belmont**

Both these bookshops are independent, which means they aren’t part of any bigger company. They are run BY people who love books, FOR people who love books. You know, people like me!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Wondrous Finds

Dear Liza,

The other day, I was walking home from Auntie Katie’s house. It had just stopped raining and the sun had come out. I was walking up Belmont Street, keeping my eye on the ground since the fallen leaves can make the sidewalk slippery.

And I saw something shiny. I probably wouldn’t have noticed it unless I was looking straight down, because it isn’t very big, only about seven inches by twelve, and set flat into the sidewalk. It is a printing plate, a flat metal plate with raised letters. All the writing is backwards, as it would need to be to print properly.

I took a photo so I could remember it and looked it up when I got home. The poem is by an American writer named Joe Bruchac, who was born in 1942. He has written over 120 books of poetry, stories and history that reflect his Abenaki Indian ancestry. He has won awards, taught in prisons, and volunteered in Africa.

Here is his poem, Birdfoot’s Grampa, quoted from the printing plate on Southeast Belmont.

The old man

must have stopped our car

two dozen times to climb out

and gather into his hands

the small toads blinded

by our lights and leaping,

live drops of rain.

The rain was falling,

a mist about his white hair

and I kept saying

you can’t save them all

accept it, get back in

we’ve got places to go.

But, leather hands full

of wet brown life

knee deep in the summer

roadside grass

he just smiled and said

they have places to go too.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Lovely Damp

Dear Liza,

We are now getting into the part of Fall that is damp and grey. If it is isn’t raining at any given moment, it has recently stopped or will begin again soon. When we were thinking of moving to Portland, this is one thing I worried about….as a former Southern California beach girl and Salinas resident, how would I do in a fairly constant situation of damp?

So far, it suits me right down to the (rather soggy) ground. Granted, I am not working, so I don’t have damp students or muddy shoes to deal with, and we have a cozy warm house that keeps the chill away.

But even outside, there is so much life and beauty that it’s hard to be too fussy about it. At Laurelhurst Park there are mushrooms that spring like fairy lamp posts from the mud, and leaves that sparkle on the dark paths.

We have even found a sweet chestnut tree! We have named it Leila, after my aunt who had eleven children, because she is so prolific. Yesterday evening, when it was nearly dark, we foraged about eight pounds of chestnuts.The squirrels called us bad names, I think.

Walking through Ladd’s Addition, where Auntie Katie lives, is a joy, as well. The old trees and shady yards feel like a forest, with moss, ferns and earth that smells alive and happy. When the clouds part for a minute, the sunshine is so glorious that people stop and smile.

**Foresty front yard in Ladd’s Addition**

Meanwhile, inside, there is quilting and reading, split pea soup with bacon and movies.

Love,

Grandma Judy