Dear Liza

Dear Liza,

While we were in the Pearl District, we wandered around, got some coffee, and shopped a little. I was delighted with what we found!

Just off the North Park Blocks we found Barista Coffee, housed in one of the dozens of old brick warehouses that were built in the 1890s. Since Portland was (and still is) a PORT city, there needed to be places to house the lumber, dried fish, tanned cowhides And other things on their way out, and fabrics, machine parts and other “fancy” goods on their way in.

I love seeing the layers of old paint on the bricks, the hints of old signs and logos, like seeing into a building’s past.

We saw this truck parked across the street. From the strikingly awful condition of the paint and the business name “Snider Bros. Body and Paint”, assumed it was a prop, a display for the sake of historic flair. But then two fellows came out, started it up, and drove away!

We found “Oblation”, a shop that seemed to feature high end stationary and paper goods, which of course, Auntie Bridgett had to step into. I am so glad we did!

Besides pens, papers, maps, and other such treasures, we found …typewriters!!! Old, mechanical, click-clacky typewriters! They worked, they typed, they smelled just like high school, and I spent way too much time enjoying them. At one time, we owned three of these lovely beauties, but we let them go when we were lightening our load to move. I miss my old Smith- Corona.

Just behind the typewriters was a real, old fashioned print shop, with half a dozen platen printing presses. They weren’t running when we were there, but I can imagine it would be mighty impressive when they are.

We finally got tired and head home, catching the streetcar to the Magic 15 bus. Another lovely day on the books.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

The Pearl is a part of downtown Portland that has seen a lot of ups and downs. In the 1890s it was an important business district, with posh offices and beautifully built brick warehouses. Henry Weinhard’s Brewery operated here for over fifty years. But things changed.

When we visited here in the 1980s, The Pearl was the scary part of town…. you just didn’t go there. Abandoned buildings became home to illegal activities and legitimate businesses fled the neighborhood.

Folks determined to change that, though, and gave the area the nickname The Pearl to help sell it to investors. Tall shining condos have replaced many of the burned out buildings, and even a few parks have been established to give some light and airflow to the place. New businesses, restaurants, and art galleries inhabit the old warehouses and are bringing people and cash into this corner of town.

On Sunday, we went to the 22nd annual Art in the Pearl festival in The North Park Blocks. Dozens of art and crafts booths lined one part of the park, and dozens of food booths lined the other. There was a river of people looking, eating, chatting, and enjoying the shady venue.

As always seems to happen, we got hungry as soon as we arrived! The food booths were very crowded, so Grandpa Nelson found us Fuller’s Coffee Shop, which has been on the corner of NW Davis and 9th since 1947, and looks like it hasn’t changed much in decor since opening day. However, the burger, grilled cheese sandwich and French fries were delicious and very affordable. Sixteen dollars for a three person lunch is a bargain in town!

Once we were fed, the Art-ing began. We walked past most of the booths, but were occasionally drawn in. We chatted with Marjolyn van der Hart, from Toronto, about her painterly collages.

Dona Reed, from Anacortes, Washington, does wonderfully evocative linoleum prints of ravens and loons, with just a touch of red. Her booth was very crowded and she was beaming! This one reminded me of our three person household. Grandpa Nelson is in back, saying “Look what I found!” Auntie Bridgett says, “I like this one!” and I am saying “Oops! I dropped mine…”

As we continued, I found a booth that reminded me of your Great Grandpa Lowell. Anthony Hansen uses old metal, from cars, factories and license plates to make metal ‘quilts’. They are welded and grommeted together in interesting ways while keeping the original colors.

At another booth featuring metal, Auntie Bridgett recognized the work of an artist that shows at SideStreetArts, but whom she had never met. Amy Ruedinger is a metalworker and they had a nice getting-to-know-each- other conversation.

We stopped by Kim Murton’s booth because of the whimsical ceramics but stayed for the fabric prints and conversation. Kim has been part of the Art Fairs in Portland for about six years, she said, and is finally getting her booth the way she likes it. She was very modest, not mentioning that she had designed the tee shirts being sold this year by the Fair. We got the very last one in our size from the Information booth!

The last artist we visited with was Josh, of Pacific Northwest Sculptors. He works in my own favorite medium, paper mache! He uses flour and paper for the outside and all sorts of things for the armature, even creating a unicorn strong enough for children to sit on! He made this for his daughter, because, he says, “I am not a monster. If I make a unicorn, my daughter should be able to sit on it!” We saw him working on a series of tentacles that just cracks me up.

We found more in the Pearl, but that’s all for now!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

Another busy weekend has flown by! As the summer winds down, activities become more tightly packed and we try to keep up.

Saturday we drove a few miles south to Reed College, a beautiful college built in 1912. The original buildings were designed by A. E. Doyle, who designed some of my favorite old buildings downtown. They are a brick Gothic design, with tell narrow windows, peaked arches and doorways, and lots of Hogwarts-style detail.

The campus is built on land donated by William Ladd, who had done very well in business and owned huge chunks of land on the east side of the Willamette. It was funded and named for Mr. Simeon Gannet Reed, who had made his money in transportation and left it to be used for a “college of lectures”, that is, liberal arts and humanities.

At the north end of the campus is Reed Lake, a stretch of water surrounded by tall pines and maples. A beautiful arching bridge goes over a narrow section, allowing long views of ducks and apparent wilderness. I like this part of the campus because it feels woodsy, like UC Santa Cruz.

Coming out of the woods we found Eliot Hall, the main administration building. It had the elegant brickwork and glazed Terra Cotta details that Mr. Doyle used in so many of his buildings.

Further along we found the Old Dorm Block, a long building that tickled our Harry Potter funny bones. There were goofy carvings, a rabid beaver on the roof, and a Sallyport. This is a feature borrowed from old castles, a passageway through a building that, in medieval days, was a place to run in case of attack.

The Student Union had a wonderful dining hall that looked like the King and Queen should host the knights for dinner. Intricate wooden trusses and a huge brick fireplace gave it a feeling of history. This was appropriate, since the hall is now over a hundred years old.

I will tell you more about what we found at Reed tomorrow!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

Being stuck inside because of the heat outside, I have had more time to do my two Inside projects.

The long term one is my history story. I’ve been working on it for about two and a half years, doing historical research, walking neighborhoods, creating characters and learning how to write a novel.

It is all about Clara and her new life in Portland in 1903. Here is the first few paragraphs.

—–January 20, 1903 

Somewhere between Brownsville and Portland, Clara realized she could not speak. A silence like death had lodged in her throat and would not budge.

Chapter 1 

Tuesday, March 17, 1903  

“Well, here it is, at last,” Clara’s Aunt Elizabeth was reading The Oregonian at the breakfast table. She took a second to calm herself before continuing, but didn’t wait for a response from her niece. “The date of President Theodore Roosevelt’s visit to Portland has been set. He will arrive on May 21^st and dedicate a monument to Lewis and Clark in City Park.” Clara looked up and raised her eyebrows politely. “Is that all you have to say about it?” Aunt Elizabeth chided. Aunt Elizabeth frowned, her own eyebrows rising in disapproval.

Clara hadn’t said one word in the three months she had been in Portland, and Aunt Elizabeth found it increasingly hard to put up with. Clara felt her aunt’s irritation, but mostly noticed how the light in the breakfast room was different this morning.—–

It’s a work in progress, and is the longest I’ve ever worked on any writing project.

My other project is a pillow. I finished one last year, using fabric I had bought for a “Backpacks for Stuffties” collection that never got off the ground. I like the way it turned out, so started on the coordinating fabric and working in a variation on concentric circles.

I am just using back stitch, blanket stitch, and a nice V shape called bird stitch in some books. There is still a lot of stitching needed, but I like the direction it is headed. I’ll stop when I think it’s done, ’cause that’s how art is.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

I haven’t been out much this week because it has been so hot! We have had 96 degrees temperatures a few days, and that is just too darn hot for a Grandma Judy.

I have been staying in and making good progress on my story. It is getting sadder, happier, and more interesting, but more about that later.

Last night, just as the sun was going down, clouds started to gather. First it looked like a potluck of some sort, with just a few clouds casually blowing by. By the time it was dark, there was a full-on cloud convention going on.

It stayed hot, though. When we turned in at 10:00, it was about 80 degrees. With fans blowing full blast, we managed to fall asleep.

I woke up with a bang. The 3 a.m. lightning showed right through my black-out blinds and my eyelids, and the thunder sounded like empty wine barrels rolling down the hills of San Francisco. It was wonderful!

Of course, after all that excitement, it was a challenge to fall back asleep. I guess the heat was the price we had to pay for some air clearing, root feeding, tree washing rain. It was worth it.

This morning it is still cool and drizzly, and feels more like Portland.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

Portland summers are packed with activity! Because our winters are wet and cold, we tend to mostly stay inside from November to about March. But once summer comes, look out!

This past weekend, for example. It is the last weekend of the Oregon State Fair, which draws thousands of folks to Salem, and there were still thousands more in town for the Timbers Game.

On Saturday morning, Grandpa Nelson and Auntie Bridgett rode in the Portland Parkways neighborhood bike ride. This is the one that I did last year, over the bridges and into downtown, then back up the hill and home. Eight miles, with the last two being uphill! I stayed home to work on my story.

They were sure pooped when they got back!

But they rallied. After some water, food and rest, they were ready to head to the Hawthorne Street Fair. This is the second to last fair of the season, and is always full of interesting booths and people.

We saw some old friends, like the group for Voluntary Human Extinction, and some new folks, like The Juicery, who opened a new shop on Hawthorne and had a booth right out front to sample their juice goodness.

Auntie Bridgett found a new, water resistant bag from Portland Gear to use when the weather gets wet again, and Grandpa Nelson enjoyed some shave ice and Karmelcorn.

It was very warm and sunny, and we were always on the lookout for shade. But some folks seemed to seek out the sun, like young violinists and the talented musicians from Gaeasoul.

Walking home, we passed the HiLo Gallery, where we met sculptor Jim Gion a few years ago. Jim has passed away, and his family are selling some of his works. He loved to sculpt dog portraits! We enjoy his pride of lions at the zoo, and he puts the same love and detail into his dogs. It was nice to see them, as well as a few lucky humans.

We got home and made a quick dinner so we could catch the Providence Volunteer Jazz band at Laurelhurst Park… doctors with horns! Very nice.

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

There are lots of flags in Portland! A flag, being made of just fabric, is an inexpensive way of showing what you think about something. I have been thinking a lot about flags lately, and this morning it sort of all came together.

Visiting different neighborhoods around town, you can see the official view on things by the murals. Murals take permits, cooperation, and are viewed as permanent…that is, once it is up, you can’t cover or remove it without the permission of the artist. So murals tend to be less controversial.

But a flag… it is more temporary, so it can be personal, whimsical, or controversial.

Harry Potter or Star Trek flags show a certain geek camaraderie, which I like very much. These represent make believe worlds with heroes and values I respect.

The United States or Marine Corps flags are more complicated. I love my country, but don’t like how it is being run or what we have come to represent. I respect individual Marines but not the culture of the Corps.

The rainbow flag, showing acceptance and pride in the Gay community (and which I was told not to show in my classroom just ten years ago), is now everywhere, hanging from City Hall and yarn bombed on telephone poles.

Then, this morning, there was a story in the Portland Oregonian about the fans at Portland Timbers (our men’s soccer team) not being allowed to wave their anti-fascist flags at games. This is what it looks like : three arrows in a circle. The image was originally used in 1932 Germany to demonstrate resistance to the Nazi Party. It has become popular in Portland and other places as a sign of opposition to the way President Trump and his allies are running the country.

So, if people are being forbidden by the Government to wave their flag which protests fascism, is the government itself Fascist? The government will tell you NO, but it seems to me that there is no middle ground on this one. Either you are against Fascism (your daddy can tell you about World War II when you are older) or you are for it.

I know I am probably over-simplifying but I am okay with that. Flags are a way to simplify issues, to support a cause you believe in with a piece of fabric. Flags are a powerful tool, like speech and art and writing, for good or evil. Fly your own flag, girl!

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

You know I love visiting cemeteries. Last week I got to visit a new one! While I was on my way to help my friend Misha move, I stopped by Rose City Cemetery and said hello.

Rose City is on Fremont Street in the Northeast part of the city. It was opened on May 27, 1906 and contains 37,263 graves. It is flat, and most of the trees are very young. I was there at noon on a sunny day and there was not much shade. The graves, all marked and in straight rows, face the paved roads. It felt …. suburban. Open, flat, well-swept.

This is very different from Lone Fir Cemetery, in our neighborhood. Lone Fir opened in 1855 and most of its trees are over a hundred years old. It is hilly and shady, and the roads were laid in years after the burials began, so that as many as 10,000 of the estimated 25,000 graves have been lost to time, paving and vandalism.

There were years when it wasn’t maintained at all, and a lot of lovely monuments were damaged or simply collapsed.

The graves are not in rows and often face each other, rather than a path or road. It feels dusty and cluttered, a proper place to be dead.

I have done some research on Rose City Cemetery, trying to learn more about who founded it, interesting people buried there, and why it was built where it was. There isn’t much to learn, so far.

After it was opened in 1906, at the eastern edge of the new Rose City neighborhood, the Nikkei Jin Kai, or Japanese Ancestral Organization, bought a part of it. After World War II and the horrible internment camps where Japanese American citizens were locked up, the Nikkei Jin Kai bought most of the cemetery, and now maintains and owns it all.

Of course, since it is newer and has been consistently taken care of, Rose City’s tombs are straight and strong and its trees and hedges are trimmed. I will learn more, and tell you about it when I do. But I think I still like Lone Fire better. As Linus would say, it is a sincere cemetery. “Not a sign of hypocrisy as far as the eye can see.”

Love,

Grandma Judy

Dear Liza,

Portland is a big city. There are almost two million people living here! This makes it very different from Salinas, in ways both good and bad. But mostly, really interesting.

There is a big, fat, magazine, printed on paper with a luxurious matte finish, just about things to do in the city. It is called Portland Monthly, and is usually full of places we never heard of, but it is, like the city itself, always fun to look at and explore.

This past April’s edition had a cover article called “75 things every Portlander must do”. I didn’t even open that issue.

This magazine, I said, is not the boss of me. I am no servant to COOL.

Then something awful happened. I opened it, and found out I was accidentally cool. Yes, I confess. I did cool stuff.

For example, Candace Molatore, one of the young hipsters interviewed for the article, recommends Palomar, the Cuban restaurant I took your Daddy David to on his last visit. She also likes Tender Loving Empire, where Auntie Bridgett gets presents for her family, like onesies with tiny baby Sasquatches on them.

Laura Foster, who is billed as an “Urban Trekker”, recommends walking tours in the city, and many of them are places that Grandpa Nelson and I have been! Walking from the Tilikum Crossing Bridge, down the West Bank, and back over the Sellwood Bridge… we did that just a few weeks ago!

And finally, Anthony Hudson, a drag performer also known as Carla Rossi, is interviewed as an icon and trend setter. He is also a friend of Auntie Katie, and has helped her on presentations for her bookshop.

All this comes by way of a confession, sweet Liza. I’m afraid that, despite my best efforts to remain a crazy old lady, I have accidentally become trendy.

Forgive me.

Love,

Grandma Judy