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Lone Fir Cemetery Part 2

Dear Liza,

Yesterday morning, Auntie Bridgett and I went on a tour of the Lone Fir Cemetery, just down the street from us at Stark and 26th. This cemetery has been used since 1846, when the farmer who owned the land, James Stephens, buried his elderly father. He later sold the land to a steamship owner named Colburn Barrell, who used it within a year to bury people who died when his steamship The Gazelle exploded.

**Mr. and Mrs. Stephens, original owner of the cemetery**

The first thing we saw when we got to the cemetery was a lady coming out, followed by a whole flock of crows. She visits the cemetery every morning and feeds them dry cat food she carries in a plastic bag. She likes the attention, she says. I’m sure the crows enjoy the breakfast!

We met Joel, our guide, and the other people on our tour. Joel is a volunteer for The Friends of the Lone Fir Cemetery, a group of people who got together after mean people broke into the cemetery on Halloween many years ago and broke a bunch of headstones and monuments. The “Friends” started repairing and guarding the cemetery, and asked the city of Portland to help. They do a good job.

We learned that the graves aren’t really organized, but people are mostly buried chronologically, in time order, from the northwest corner towards the southeast. Of course, there are exceptions , and very recent graves can be right next to pioneer headstones. Many of the old ones are impossible to read because moss grows on the stones. Eternal rest is assured. Eternal identification, not so much.

There are many beautiful black headstones with Russian writing and engraved portraits on them. When Mr. Reagan was President, he offered political asylum to any Russian or Ukrainian citizens who were Christians to come live in America, and many came to the Portland area. There are now thousands of these folks living here, and when they die, they are buried with these very distinctive headstones made by two men, who are the only ones in town who know how to make them. They have information on the front and poetry on the back. Your mommy has been translating them for me.

Another interesting grave has an urn sitting on it rather than a headstone. James Hansen Frush was chief bartender at the Front Street Saloon, always generous with his friends and very well-loved. While he was alive, he had this big metal urn that he used to offer eggnog during the holiday season. When he died, his friends decided to place the urn over his grave to remember his generosity. But the next Christmas, they missed him, so they came across the river, fetched the urn back to the bar, and enjoyed eggnog in his memory, returning the urn to the grave after the New Year. This back and forth went on for a few years. The urn that is still here is a concrete cast of that urn. There is even a hole there the eggnog would come out.

Bartender’s Memorial Photo Credit: Bridgett Spicer

There are many others, but the last one I will tell you about today is the grave of Eric Ladd. When Eric Ladd was born in Portland, his name was Leslie Carter Hansen. He became an actor, changed his name to Eric Ladd, moved to New York, then Hollywood, and retired back to Portland, very successful. He used the money he had made to help preserve some of the beautiful old buildings in town that were gong to be torn down.

When Eric got sick at 78 or so, a friend was traveling in Romania and found a beautiful iron cross. The friend bought it to use for when Eric died. Then his friends bought some iron fencing from Mark Twain’s house in Missouri (Eric loved Mark Twain’s writings and had made shows of his stories) and put the fencing around the grave to protect the cross. It is ornate, historic, and perfect.

My visit to the Lone Fir ended, as it always does, by me feeling lucky to be alive and happy to learn about all these people who lived here before me. But this time, I have fun information, as well!

Love,

Grandma Judy

The Rimsky-Korsakoffee House

Dear Liza,

The other night we took a long walk after dinner. Auntie Bridgett had read about a restaurant called The Rimsky-Korsakoffee House that is about a mile from our house, at 12th Avenue and Alder. It was quirky, she said, and possibly haunted, and we should go there.

So we did. We walked due west, right into the setting sun, and by the time we got to the restaurant, we were sun-blind and exhausted. From where we stood on the sidewalk, there was no sign that the building was a restaurant, or even occupied. The faded rose Victorian exterior looked like one of the hundreds of great houses in Portland that have gotten tired over the years. The lawn was weedy and the willow tree a bit overgrown. At 6:57, it was as if no one had been up the stairs in years. At 7:00, a small “Open” sign came on and people began walking up the street towards it.

We entered the cluttered, underlit foyer, our eyes and glasses still adjusting from the bright afternoon outside. “Take a menu” a sign said, so we did, and wandered into the living room. Small tables and chairs filled the space, where a piano sat in the corner and all sorts of knick-knacks perched on shelves.

The number 36 dangled from the ceiling and was spelled out in roman numerals made from yard sticks. Auntie Bridgett remembered that the restaurant had been started in 1980, so was 36 last year. It is as old as your daddy. The whole place was lit with fairy lights.

We sat and listened to the Romantic piano music of Rimsky-Korsakoff lilting through the small rooms, reading the hand-written signs. “Warning to customers: This is the OUT door” said a sign on the door to the kitchen. “This table for 2 people only” was the sign on our table. We were three, but no one seemed to mind. Quirky, indeed.

Our waitress took our order and we shared the most delicious ginger cake I have ever had. The cinnamon coffee was rich and sweet, and Grandpa Nelson’s ice cream sundae was wonderfully cold and fluffy. Having enjoyed our dessert and coffee and recovered completely from our walk, we paid our bill and got up to leave.

We saw what we hadn’t before, the stairs up to the restroom, over which hung a swing of sorts. On the bottom (the side towards us) was another hand written sign: “Everyone Enjoy Engaging in Eating, Entertainment, Escape, Enlightenment, Euphony, Elsewise, Exit!” We had seen no signs of haunting, but it was early yet. Maybe the spirits wake up later.

We had a conversation with the baker before we left, complimenting him on his ginger cake and getting the recipe, which he rattled off from memory. “But don’t quote me,” he said. “I make a lot of cakes.” I don’t remember it, but I will have fun trying to duplicate it, once the weather cools off enough to bake.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Mosaics in Portland

Dear Liza,

This will be a short post today. I have a story idea in my head that won’t let me think about much else. But I wanted to share something I have noticed about Portland ….mosaics.

You know I love mosaics. I make mosaics. I teach my students to make mosaics.

There is a lot of public art in Portland, statues, murals, and fountains for playing in. I have posted pictures of your cousins and Auntie Bridgett with statues of deer and lots of other public art. Even some of the buildings are like art. These are all public art, as in, paid for by public money. I respect this, and love it. I like that my tax money goes to make art that I enjoy.

The other kind of art that everyone can see is privately funded art that is in public. The Buckman School, in our neighborhood, decorated their retaining wall with mosaics made with donated tiles and dishes. The Calico Room restaurant in East Portland advertises with a wonderfully modern cat mosaic.

These are interesting, pretty pieces of art that we walk by all the time and get to enjoy. They help me see things differently. They inspire me to make my own art. I am grateful for the creative people who share their art with all of us.

“Tell them, dear, if eyes were made for seeing, then beauty is its own excuse for being.” Emerson

Love,

Grandma Judy

History Pub

Dear Liza,

Yesterday was another really hot day. By 4:30, it was 101 degrees! Auntie Bridgett and I spent the hottest part of the afternoon in the nice cool Main Branch of the library, downtown. I found more books on Portland’s history and Auntie Bridgett found art books!

In the evening, we had a new adventure. Grandpa Nelson had read about an event called “History Pub”, held at the Kennedy School. There would be dinner and music. We love history, pubs, food, schools, and music, so we went!

The Kennedy School is an elementary school about three miles north of us, built in 1917. That was four years before my Momma was born! The school was named for the man who sold the land to the city of Portland, John D. Kennedy… not the president, as I had thought. The school had been abandoned in the 1990’s because there weren’t enough kids in the neighborhood anymore, and a restaurant company called McMenamin’s bought it.

McMenamin’s saw how this old building could be beautiful and useful again. They fixed the plumbing, heating, and electricity. They re-modeled the classrooms into hotel rooms (each with its own chalkboard!) and turned the cafeteria into a quirky restaurant. There is a small bar called Detention just down the hall from the Principal’s office.

There is also beautiful artwork everywhere. The halls have murals of children learning and helping each other. Mosaics made from old dishes and things pay tribute to teachers at the school. Fairies even follow you into the restroom….it is magical.

GetAttachmentThumbnail-7 — **Teacher Mosaic**

We had dinner, walked around the school a bit, then went into the auditorium. This has been re-fitted with cozy, velvet covered chairs and couches, with more artwork and murals on the walls. We learned about Obo Addy, a Ghanan drummer, from Susan Addy, Obo’s widow. Obo Addy came to Portland in 1978 with his four brothers, bringing real African music to this area for the first time. The group toured schools and gave concerts, teaching thousands of people about African drumming, singing and dancing.

GetAttachmentThumbnail-18 — **Poster for Obo Addy**

Then came the best part of the already wonderful evening….music! Five musicians, a group called Okropong, came out in beautiful African costumes with bells and danced up and down the aisle. They set up different drums in the front and played, sang and danced. The energy was amazing, and the audience began dancing and clapping, too. The musicians went into the audience and took people’s hands, bringing them into the aisle to dance with them. People were having so much fun!

Every now and then, the leader would explain about the music. One piece was from Liberia, a country next to Ghana…he said, “Ghana went to Liberia, fell in love, and brought this one back.”

GetAttachmentThumbnail copy — **The Ghanan drummers of Okropong**

After almost an hour of exhausting performance, our musician friends did one final song and danced off stage. We gathered our things and headed for the parking lot, through the halls of the coolest school I have ever seen. We slept like rocks to be ready for the next adventure, whatever that might be.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Hawthorne Street Fair

Dear Liza,

As if our weekend wasn’t full enough with our new car, Sunday was the Hawthorne Street Fair. They close the street for 10 blocks and all sorts of folks set up tents to share their ideas and talents, and sell their things.

Auntie Bridgett spent the morning at a drawing “meet up” at the Portland Museum of Art, where artists look at art, draw about it, and talk about it. So Grandpa Nelson and I did the first part of the Fair by ourselves. First, we stopped at the Bazi Bierbrasserie because Grandpa Nelson had heard about their french fries and wanted to try them out. They and my “velgi” burger were very good, and the cider and beer were light and cold, just what was needed on a hot day. Outside the brasserie was a “Human Foosball” game, where four guys….well, you get the idea. Have a look at the picture.

Out on the street, there were food booths selling Cajun, Hawaiian, Lebanese, Mexican, Filipino, and American food. Pork, beef, chicken, tofu, if it could be fried, spiced and wrapped in something, it was for sale. It all smelled so yummy! There were also Gelato carts, shave ice trucks, and tents just giving away free cold water to anyone who needed it. These were all very popular.

There were political action booths, asking people to sign petitions, buy t-shirts, or volunteer to save the planet, the country, the forests and just about anything else you can think of. These were interesting but a little dangerous, because if you asked the folks about their cause they were so passionate, it was hard to walk away!

**Auntie Bridgett playing a cigar box guitar**

Auntie Bridgett joined us as the day was getting really warm. There were booths selling music! Old vinyl records by the box load called to us, but since we gave away our old turntable when we moved, we didn’t stop. A fellow named Sonny was selling guitars and ukeleles that he built from beautiful cigar boxes, and Auntie Bridgett gave them a try.

Musicians of every age were sitting, standing, or dancing, and playing music with their boxes set out for donations. The youngest were about 13, two girls playing ukeleles behind a sign that said “Tip the musicians (but don’t knock them over)”.

Auntie Bridgett hadn’t had lunch and we were all ready to fall over from the heat (we are not used to 98 degrees!) so we stopped in at the lovely and air conditioned Chez Machin. This french style creperie is friendly, small, and serves both savory and sweet crepes and drinks. The sit-down, cool air, and food were exactly what was needed.

After looking at hats from Ray’s Classic Collection shop and some vintage clothing, we decided it was time to head home. We all had some downtime, read, or napped. In the evening was the final performance of the summer “Music in the Parks” program, so we walked to Laurelhurst Park with our dinner and listened to the Providence band play jazz, big band music, and even some disco. People danced, kids played, and the sun went down. It was lovely.

On the way home, we saw that the flamingos had changed again! They were apparently home from their camping trip and were ready to go back to school! This running story played out on a lawn just cracks me up, and it is so ….Portland.

Silly, artistic, not fancy, but fun.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Something Else has Changed

Dear Liza,

Yesterday we bought a new car! Our dear old VW Golf, Junie B., was 16 years old and had hauled us back and forth across the country and now back to Oregon. It was time to donate her to a good cause and move forward.

We drove out to Dick Hannah, a Volkswagen dealership in east Portland, and met Allyn Jordan. He helped us get the the car we wanted. Turns out, he had just what we wanted, but it was across the river in Vancouver, Washington. He went there to fetch it while we waited and Auntie Bridgett and I had some lunch. I always forget how long it takes to buy a car….paperwork, waiting, fetching, cleaning, explaining…about 5 hours in all.

Once our new car was with us, Allyn showed us all the gadgets. It has a blind spot warning, so we can change lanes more safely, and a rear view camera, to help us park without running into things. These are all good.

But there are also toys! A great music system with speakers in the back, air-conditioning (we are having more hot weather) and a phone built into the car are going to make driving more interesting.

After we had signed the final papers, shaken Allyn’s hand one last time, and fed poor, hungry Grandpa Nelson, we went for a drive to celebrate. Grandpa Nelson drove out of town toward the east and went up the Columbia River Gorge. The Columbia is an even bigger river than our Willamette here in town, and must be a mile or more across. It is forested all along the banks and very wild and beautiful. There are huge rock formations and waterfalls. We drove to Multonomah Falls, but it was so crowded the parking area was closed. We will try again some other time. Turning around, Auntie Bridgett drove west until we were able to get out at a vista point to gawk at the huge river and take pictures.

By this time, we were pretty tired. Back in town we rested, ate, and enjoyed looking at, learning about, and thinking about our new car. We still haven’t decide what to name it, and a car isn’t really yours until you name it….so we will let you know.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Visitors and Ramona’s Neighborhood

**George and Mimi Photo Credit: Bridgett Spicer**

Dear Liza,

Yesterday our dear friends George and Mimi Niesen were in town delivering one of her paintings and they stopped by for brunch! We decided to walk, since there are so many wonderful places close by.

Their first choice, called Fried Egg I’m in Love, on Hawthorne at 34th, turned out to be a food truck. I’m sure their food was good, but their eating area right by the busy street was too noisy for conversation. We walked a few blocks east to Bread and Ink, a restaurant that has been here for 32 years!

We had a very tasty brunch of waffles and berries, black bean cakes with mango chutney, potatoes and sausage, and eggs Benedict. Good coffee, good service, and interesting art on the walls made for a very pleasant morning.

We walked back through the neighborhood more slowly, stuffed with breakfast. We walked along Hawthorne seeing all the fun shops and met Ray, the man who owns Classic Collection, where we found Grandpa Nelson’s new summer hat the other day. Ray has a bigger store downtown, but he calls this one “my baby”.

We saw the Tov Bus, a coffee place made in a re-purposed double-decker London Bus. Turning into the quiet neighborhood, there was a sign in a garden explaining that there were important pollinators called mining bees living in their yard, so it didn’t get gardened much.

We passed the ‘cow house’, which has, well, a large plastic cow on the roof. It just sort of sits there, being a cow. Very entertaining!

GetAttachmentThumbnail-75 — **You know, it’s a cow…on a house**

We imagine it saying things…”Yeah, I’m a cow, what’s it to you?”….”Who took that ladder?”

After George and Mimi went on their way and we worked and had dinner, Auntie Bridgett, Grandpa Nelson and I went for a long walk up to the Grant Park neighborhood. This is where the author of the Ramona books, Beverly Cleary, grew up.

In Grant Park (named for President Grant, who was president from 1868-1877) there are three statues in a fun, splashy fountain. The statues are of Ramona Quimy, Henry Huggins, and Henry’s dog Ribsy. Ramona and Ribsy are actually part of the fountain because their statues help spray the water. Henry is watching from the side. The sculptor, Lee Hunt, captured the fun of playing in the water perfectly.

We walked a long way through the Grant Park neighborhood, seeing the big high school and Beverly Cleary Elementary School, lots of nice houses for sale, and friendly cats.

We were getting tired and thirsty, so we stopped at the Migration Brewery for cider, beer, and pretzels, then finished our walk and collapsed happily at home.

Auntie Bridgett’s mileage meter on her watch said she and I walked six and a half miles in all. No wonder our feet were tired! Another lovely, interesting, exhausting day.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Visitors for the Eclipse

Dear Liza,

Yesterday, Auntie Bridgett’s Aunt Chris and Uncle Ken came to visit us while they were in Oregon to see the eclipse. We had fun showing them some of our favorite places. They were only here for the evening, so this list had to be short.

First, we walked north on 30th Avenue to Flanders Street, a restaurant called Stammtisch. Their motto is “Sit here, always”. We have been there before, but only for dessert, which was very good. It is all German food, and the menu gives the German name first, then describes what is in the food in English. This can be scary, because you don’t want to sound silly saying the food wrong. But the waiters are very friendly and don’t mind.

The menu has small plates (kleine) medium sized (mitter) and large (grosse). This lets you order just enough and not have tons left over. I like this because regular restaurant portions are always way too much for me!

I ordered the Bier Geschmort Hasen, which is a beer braised rabbit. Auntie Bridgett got a forelle (trout), Uncle Ken got a wienerschnitzel and latkes (fried pork loin and potato pancakes). Aunt Chris got hausgemachte wurst (home made sausage). Grandpa Nelson, of course, ordered frites (french fries). And everything was delicious!

We were there early enough that the place wasn’t crowded, we had a nice long conversation and everyone tried a little of everyone else’s food. Then we needed dessert. We walked just a block, and there was Fifty Licks, the ice cream place closest to our house. Blood orange creamsicle, blackberry sorbet and carmelized honey cones were ordered and shared. Again, we were ahead of the crowd and saw a line forming as we left.

We couldn’t let them leave without seeing Laurelhurst Park, so we walked over there. The trees, lake, and beauty helped all of us digest our food better. We sat on the bench by the lake and saw the ducks out for their evening swim and a few turtles climbing up on logs to sleep. We walked home and saw dogs chasing balls and being incredibly happy….both the dogs and us!

We had worn ourselves and our company out, but had a lovely time.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Eclipse At Laurelhurst Park

Dear Liza,

Today is the solar eclipse that has had all of Portland in a tizzy for weeks. Some people have planned trips out of town to see the eclipse while others have canceled travel because they are worried about traffic from other people’s travel. Hotel rooms and rental cars are booked, food trucks plan to close for the hour of the eclipse and then do extra business afterwards.

Grandpa Nelson, Auntie Bridgett and I are going to Laurelhurst Park, sit in the small forest there, and listen to what the animals do. Will the hawks go hunting? Will the squirrels freak out? Will we finally get to see the owl?

I wrote that part before the eclipse.

It is now after. Here is what happened.

When we got to the park, there were already some people sitting in the big grassy area. They were reading, talking, or playing with their kids, but as we have often seen here, not being obnoxiously loud. Each group respected the other group’s space and quiet.

As the eclipse began and increased, the light changed. The white sunlight got yellower, then almost grey, and it made things look flatter. The temperature dropped a bit and a small breeze came up.

At almost 99% totality, (as much as we got here in Portland) we saw things called shadow snakes …shadows of the leaves overhead, but looking curvy. These happen because the light of the sun is bent as it comes around the moon and so makes curvy shadows. Weird and wonderful.

We also saw cloudy shadows moving across the pavement. They were so faint I couldn’t get a picture of them. I found out later they are called Schlieren lines.

After just a half minute of not-darkness, the light began to increase again. The eclipse was ending and we would soon be back to regular light.

It never got dark enough for the animals to think it was night, so the owls stayed asleep and the hawks stayed quiet. The squirrels did their usual squirrel things. It started getting warm again. Grandpa Nelson said it felt like a second dawn.

He walked with us to the corner of Belmont and Cesar Chavez Blvd, where he turned right to go find breakfast and we turned left to go to the Belmont library for more books on Portland history.

I am learning so much here. Looking forward to your visit!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Navigating by Serendipity

Dear Liza,

Yesterday we decided it was time to visit Mt. Tabor. This is a 636 feet high extinct cinder cone volcano right here in Portland. It is covered with a forest and has hiking trails. We wanted a nice walk up the hill.

As so often happens, we got much more than we bargained for! We wandered into a fabulous event called the Adult Soapbox Derby. This is an annual event that happens the third Saturday of August here in Portland. Teams create vehicles with no engine, that are started by a big push and stopped by their own brakes, that roll down the road of Mt. Tabor three at a time. The vehicles are funny, beautiful, and whimsical.

Dozens of people raced, pushed and helped direct people and traffic. Hundreds more watched from the sidelines with picnics, kids, and dogs. There were food trucks, Frisbee games, and even dancing along the way. We sat in several different places, watching the racers come down, some really zipping along, others just barely moving, but all being met with cheers and applause.

Auntie Bridgett’s favorite was the Kraken, a colorful sea creature that squirted water at the crowd. There were cartoon characters like the Catvan from Totoro and Johnny Cab from Total Recall. And, there were ponies! A My Little Pony car was decorated with pink and purple fluff and driven by two ladies in pony costumes.

We were glad we had taken a picnic, because we ended up walking four miles, up and down and around the mountain. By the time the drum corps marched down the road announcing the end of the race, we were ready to find our own car and drive into the Montavilla neighborhood to look around and get some refreshment.

We found The Bipartisan Cafe, a politically decorated place for cakes, pies, coffee, and interesting old political posters. Ice Cold Ice Cream provided Grandpa Nelson with a delicious root beer float, and we were ready to head for home.

So far we still don’t know which car won. But we enjoyed being steered by serendipity!

Love,

Grandma Judy