Dear Liza

Jazz on the Porch

Dear Liza,

It has been a long, long time since we heard live music. Before the pandemic, it was one of the great joys of living in Portland: somewhere close, almost every evening, folks were playing music.

But before the summer outdoor music season even got started, the whole country shut down. Movies, concerts, even outdoor venues, were all closed for the duration. Poop.

While out picking up litter the other day, we saw this sign and confirmed what we had heard talked about: Jazz in the neighborhood!

Just a block from our house is a lovely front porch where a group gathers to play gentle jazz, for whatever people want to put in the tip jar. Lead by Gordon Leem, the ensemble includes a keyboard, stand up bass, trombone, drums, and some fine scat singing.

It was wonderful. “Blue Skies”, their opening number, celebrated the return to our clear skies after nine days of toxic smoke. Folks slowly wandered in, carrying camp chairs, wine, and snacks. The sidewalks and even Alder Street itself became seating, and no one seemed to mind. The sun started to go down and we all just reveled in being there.

Being out in the world, watching people with their kids and dogs, was as important as the music itself. It wasn’t perfect, of course. A group close by us were so happy to be out of the house they chatted a bit too loudly. But I realized that was part of it. We have missed the luxury of being irritated by strangers.

The tip jar got regular donations, and Gordon reminded us that a part of that money will go to the Red Cross, who is helping lots of people in Oregon who have lost everything. After an hour and a half, it was time to head home. We waved at neighbors ( hard to recognize after months inside and with everyone masked!) , packed our chairs and headed off to dinner.

It almost felt like normal life.

Love,

Grandma Judy

RIP Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Dear Liza,

A very special woman passed away this past weekend. Her name was Ruth Bader Ginsburg. As a lawyer, a judge, and then a Justice on the Supreme Court, she fought for women to have the same rights as men. She fought and argued and wrote so the phrase, “…because you are a woman” would not have any place in banking, real estate, business, or courts of law.

The Notorious RBG, from the ACLU website

Without Justice Ginsburg’s work, Auntie Katie would not have been able to buy her bookshop. I could not get a credit card in my own name. Millions of women would not be able to buy property or even sign a lease in their own name. Unmarried women would still be controlled by their fathers, married women, by their husbands.

One of the many strong women she enabled….

There have been hundreds of thousands of words written about Justice Ginsburg, and though I have nothing new to add, I felt the need to appreciate her here.

As we all worry about what the next few months will bring for our country, I hope we can live up to her example of standing up for what is right, going out on a limb, and making a difference.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Neighborhood Updates

Dear Liza,

The fires are still burning in Oregon and California, and many thousands of folks have lost their homes. Locally, the winds have shifted, so we here in Portland are not suffering. The only damage we have so far is that my bonsai, The Hundred Acre Wood, was left outside for a few days of smoke, and its leaves have shriveled.

I’m not sure if it is totally dead or if the smoke has just caused it to go into a sort of premature hibernation, but for now it is getting regular care out on the balcony. We will see what happens come Spring.

We walk around our neighborhood a lot, and when we do, we notice things. New paint jobs, blooming cherry trees, sunflowers taller than our heads. And sometimes, trash. Sometimes, a lot of trash.

This morning Auntie Bridgett and I gathered up our trash buckets and bags, our new grabbers, our new VOTE masks, and headed out.

Our day working with SolveOregon.org last month made us feel empowered to help. We don’t have to just step over the trash and disapprove of it. We can DO something about it. It is what my dad would want us to do.

We picked up lots of paper and cigarette butts, beer cans, old nasty socks and even masks. Following the SolveOregon guidelines, though, there are some things we won’t touch. These jugs, for example, contain materials that are likely to be toxic, and have been sitting on this curb for months and months.

I have researched which city department is in charge of removing such things (Environmental Quality) and called to make them aware of the situation, and gave the address.

I like that we can take charge of a part of our world. Little changes can help. Litter pick up. Donations to local charities. Buying from local shops. Voting, voting, and…. voting.

Acting locally, making a difference.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Art In the Darkness

Dear Liza,

It has been a really difficult week. Heavy smoke from the Oregon fires has kept us inside and is making everyone feel sick. The virus that President Trump ignored is still killing a thousand people a day, and our government seems determined to punish anyone who disagrees with it. It has been very hard to find any happy.

Yesterday I wrote a letter to my brother Tim (yes, I type my letters) and illustrated it with forests and smoke. It was a sad picture, but it made me feel better to put something in paper.

I gathered up my watercolors and played with some of the skills Ruth Inman has taught me in our online art group.

First, I taped the paper down, and really soaked it. While it was wet, I gave a wash of bright yellow and orange, making sure it was nice and random.

While the paper was still damp, I used a toilet paper roll to make big circles and a rolled up strip of regular paper to make small ones…. just a few. Then I let everything dry.

This next process takes the longest because you have to let things dry between layers. If you try and paint everything at once, it all runs together. Over the course of the afternoon I put in the petals and centers of the flowers.

When that layer seemed “done”, I let it all dry. Then I got out the Elegant Writer pen Ruth had sent me and put in the details of the flowers. It was fun to see the orange and yellow pop against the black lines.

And I felt better. Something about the bright colors, the creative process and the control of this little piece of paper allowed me to feel joy for the first time in days. I recommend this ‘art therapy’ to anyone feeling sad.

We will get through this and find light in the other side, I know. And art will help.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Treasure Island Evolution

Dear Liza,

I wanted to update you about a project I have been working on for a month now. It is my painted and embroidered version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island.

RLS’s Treasure Island, my watercolor interpretation

It started out more like RLS’s desert island, but since I knew I was going to spend a lot of mental time there, I wanted it to be greener and prettier. Billy Bones went mad for a reason, you know, and I don’t need more crazy-making. I need less. So I added rivers, some real mountains, and a nice lush rain forest.

Having painted it “as a first layer”, I needed to figure out the next layer. Lay in the outlines, then stitch some mountains, then… maybe some rapids? Yes, this was coming along.

There were mistakes, of course. I put in what I thought was very cool texture that Bridgett said looked like obstacles the Germans put on the Normandy beaches on D Day, so they had to go. This led me to more organic lines, which I really like. More texture, more naturalistic colors, a weird marriage of map and landscape.

This project is giving me so much pleasure. Something to do with my hands, to work off the fidgety Evans energy during these shut-in days. A place to create and visit that is green and lush, far away from political and environmental ugliness. And the freedom to make a piece of my world, just as I like it.

Art may save me yet.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Showing Up

Dear Liza,

It is now less than fifty days until the national election, where 331 million Americans will choose to keep Donald Trump as our President or get a new start with Joe Biden.

I have been so angered and saddened by how our country has been run for the last three and a half years, I wanted to do something to make my voice heard. But Covid has made all meetings dangerous, and here in Portland, attending a protest can land you in the hospital.

So what to do? Sending donations to candidates is good, but our finances are tiny compared to Mr. Trump’s giant boat-owning followers. Some of my friends in Salinas have been writing postcards through a group called Postcards to Voters, run by a fellow who goes by the nickname Tony the Democrat, to encourage people in other states (who they don’t even know) to vote. Just vote.

Postcards to Voters, last year in Salinas

Vote. Show up. Get heard. And if our country is as good hearted as we all hope it is, the right candidate will win. Migrant children will be released from cages. Breaking the law, even if you are rich and white, will have consequences. Scientists and doctors will be listened to on medical issues. And maybe, slowly, America will begin to be respected around the world again.

I have started writing letters with a group called Vote Forward. They have lists of folks who usually don’t vote, and I write a note to them, encouraging them to do so. My first group of twenty are all in Texas, which has become an important ‘Swing state’. I am hoping to have a say in helping our country on the road to recovery.

And then I can know that I showed up. I got my voice heard. As my father would say, I gave a damn.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Thinking about Evacuation

Dear Liza,

Let me start by reassuring you. We DID NOT have to evacuate. The nearest low level evacuation zone was ten miles south of us. But we have been breathing smoke for days, and seeing the fires advance, so … it was on our minds.

We saw news photos of families living rough, using their car hoods for dinner tables in soot-covered parking lots. They had taken food and water, and were grateful to be getting by. But evacuation is more than just, “What do I need for a few days on the road?”

Evacuation is also, “If my house were completely destroyed, what do I want to save? What is worthy of space in my vehicle? What possession is AS IMPORTANT to me as food or water?” Ah, now you see. It’s about trade-offs.

Each other, of course, and dear Mouse the kitten. Important papers, insurance, passports, the things that prove you exist, have rights, and own stuff. Food, water, sanitation things, especially in a Covid flavored time, are vital. Clothes, of course. But then what?

Computers? Probably, as much of our information and family memories are stored in them. Family heirlooms? Yes, but which ones? Photo albums? Stuffed dog Sammy, or the WWI German helmet? The three volume Shakespeare collection or the twenty pound Picasso book?

For us, one thing that we knew would be in the car was a painting by our neighbor, David Gettman, more than forty years ago. This oil painting of a bicyclist has been a centerpiece of our houses ever since, and a new place never feels like home without it. We all agreed it was worthy of space. It is art and friends, history and beauty, all at once.

Looking forward, we are expecting rain. The fires are becoming controlled and our air more breathable. But the climate, even in mossy Oregon, is changing for the drier, and we may well be in this situation again.

We can’t carry the fear of evacuation in our hearts every day. But maybe we will be more prepared, mentally, for next time.

Love,

Grandma Judy

A Smokey Birthday

Dear Liza,

All our birthdays this year have been affected by the corona virus shutdown. But Auntie Bridgett’s had the added Barbecue flavor of the horrendous fires that are raging in California, Oregon, and Washington.

Because of the smoke, Portland is experiencing Hazardous air. Yep. Lately, it hasn’t been safe to go into a restaurant, or store, without a mask. Now, it’s not safe to go out, period. Our regular masks won’t help.

So Auntie Bridgett’s birthday was a stay-inside affair. Presents were opened, including a giant book of everything from the Picasso museum in Paris, a fabulous bag, and a new doo-hickey to help her film her how-to videos.

French Cooking radio played as we had a two woman painting party, inspired by “Ball Players on the Beach” by Picasso. We have such different styles, but we sure had fun!

A quiet afternoon gave way to dinner plans. Since Paris was on our minds, we put it on the menu by ordering delivery from La Moule, a French place down on Clinton. A giant bowl of mussels in white wine, crusty baguettes, pate, and a nice red wine made for a filling, French-feeling meal.

A game of Scrabble, a Giants loss, and a Baking show, and it was time to say goodnight to this weirdest (so far) birthday.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Downtown and a Surprise Visit!

Dear Liza,

Wednesday was a very busy day! First there was the planned busy, then the surprise busy. Both were wonderful and exhausting.

I wanted to walk downtown to pick up the litter grabbers we had ordered through SolveOregon.org so we can help clean up our neighborhood. The weather was predicted to be hot by the afternoon, but at least the winds had shifted and the smoke from the fires to the East wasn’t hanging around. I left the house before 9 so I could get there and back before the heat set in.

Smoke from the fires south and East of the city

This time I crossed west on the Hawthorne Bridge, enjoying the long, slightly smoky views of the river and some murals.

The Solve office is three miles from home, so I was pretty pooped by the time I had met John at the door and picked the grabbers up. I found a spot in the shade and ate a cookie and my apple, thinking how nice it was to be out in the daylight, free to walk where I pleased.

I walked back East across the Morrison Bridge, which has better pedestrian walkways but drops you into a scary area below the freeways. I scooted up the hill, sitting in the shade when I needed to. Once I got home, I had walked six miles, and felt pretty good about it…. once I had cooled down and drunk two pints of water.

During this long walk I had been getting texts from Auntie Katie. Our dear friend Darcy and her daughter and grandson would be in town this afternoon! Could we meet them Auntie Katie’s shop? Well, yeah!

Auntie Bridgett is totally booked with work for her show, so Grandpa Nelson and I walked (I felt fine by then) the two miles to Books with Pictures, where we had ice cream and conversation. Auntie Katie brought out a huge umbrella for the table and we ate and exchanged stories. It was amazing and wonderful, feeling almost like old times.

Auntie Katie and the cousins, always up for ice cream

Cousins Jasper and Kestrel came over for ice cream and hugs, photos and smiles, and then headed back to their dad’s house.

By then, we all started feeling the wind changing, and the sky was getting that weird apocalyptic orange of forest smoke. We could see the grayish orange sky moving up the river, and knew we wanted to get home. Darcy and family returned to their friends’ house, Auntie Katie went back to a very busy day doing inventory, and we walked the two miles back up the hill.

The wind shifts, the smoke returns, and it’s time to head back home…

Needless to say, ten miles in one day is more than I’m used to, and (maybe) more than was a good idea. But it was a marvelous day and I wouldn’t trade it for anything!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Distant Fires, Local Winds

Dear Liza,

Most of the West has been very dry and hot, and Oregon is no exception. Our Labor Day weekend saw hot weather, high winds coming down the Columbia Gorge, and forest fires. These all combined for a Monday afternoon and evening closed up in the house, watching orange skies and whipping trees, wondering what would happen next.

We were supposed to meet Auntie Katie and the Cousins at Laurelhurst Park for a picnic, but the winds were so strong we were afraid of being hit by falling branches, and the air tasted like the windy side of a campfire. We had to put it off until a better time.

Laurelhurst paths strewn with bits and twigs

Tuesday morning, I got out early to see what the night had brought. In our neighborhood, all the trees were still standing. There were lots of chestnuts (we call them cookers because they can conk you on the head!) down that weren’t there the day before. It must have been awful noisy when they were hitting the cars and trash cans.

In the park, the paths were strewn with leaves, needles and twigs shaken from the trees. A few branches were down, but the biggest was just a few inches in diameter and about six feet long. It was light enough for me to drag off the path so no one would trip over it.

The air had cleared up, as well. The winds had died down and the smoke had shifted.

But the fires are still burning places we know and love. Silverton, where we went to the Homer Davenport Festival, is being evacuated. The Santiam Highway by Sisters, where hundreds of artists make beautiful things, is ablaze. Medford, where dear friends’ families live, are going up in smoke, their livelihoods gone. Thousands of acres of ancient, beautiful forest are being destroyed by wind and fire and the humans dedicated to saving it seem powerless.

All this makes me very sad. The trees will grow back as they were, but not in my lifetime, or even yours. I will miss them.

Love,

Grandma Judy