In the Moment

February 6th, 2012

Ready! Set! Bloom!

     Even though I’ve lived almost half my life here in the Northwest – more than, counting childhood visits – there are certain things I can’t seem to get used to.  One is the unwritten rule “Sun Out; Shorts On” no matter if the thermometer says it’s below freezing.  Where I came from, we wore shorts when it was hot, as in 80° Fahrenheit or more.  Period.
     Not that it’s a problem – more of a curiosity.  My shorts-wearing days are pretty much over, anyway.  But, another weather-connected phenomenon up here above the 45th Parallel North is how folks do things ‘in the moment.’  It the sun shines, it’s drop everything and go on a picnic or work in the garden or paint the barn.  No planning ahead required.
     Conversely, if it has been necessary to plan something – like a school field trip, say – it’s go anyway, weather be damned.  And it goes without saying that fishermen, oystermen, farmers,  loggers, and all the other workers who must spend most of their days outdoors, pull on their raingear with little regard for that ‘liquid sunshine’ pelting down on them.
     I thought about these peculiarities of Northwest living yesterday when I took a break from my writing and went for a short walk.  There was my neighbor Bradley – he of the beautiful garden – on hands and knees in the dirt cleaning up his flower beds.
     “You should be out in your garden, too,” he told me cheerfully.
     I didn’t even feel guilty or remorseful.  Well, maybe a tad remorseful.  I’ve been on a roll, writing-wise, for several weeks – nose-to-keyboard you might say – and I’ve taken very little notice of the world beyond my office door.  Until yesterday, I hadn’t realized that the daffodils in front of Oysterville’s picket fences are already showing color.  Nor had I seen that the rhodies in our south garden are festooned with fat pink buds on the verge of bursting forth.
     While I’ve been tap-tapping away the hours, the sun has been shining out there and Mother Nature has been trying on her spring hat.  I’m just a teensy bit sorry that I missed most of it but, on examining my priorities, I think my choice was the right one.  When it’s either roll up my shirtsleeves to forge ahead with a writing project or change into shorts to goosebump in the sunshine and ocean breezes… no contest.  I guess I won’t ever acclimate to life in the Northwest…

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The Amazing LaRee!

February 5th, 2012

LaRee Johnson

     I was delighted to read in my recent Pacific County Historical Society newsletter that our friend LaRee Johnson will be the presenter at the PCHS Annual Meeting on February 12th.  I wouldn’t miss it for the world.  LaRee is one of those admirable and amazing women who is not only beautiful and talented, but is an expert in her field – women’s vintage accessories and clothing.
     I first saw her do one of her programs years (maybe two decades?) ago at The Ark.  In those days I was an active member of the Daughters of the Pioneers and LaRee was the guest speaker at one of our luncheon events.  “Speaker” is a misnomer to-the-max, however.  She was a fashion show, a history lesson, and an entertainer wrapped in one gorgeous costume after another!
     Subsequently, I saw other presentations.  One I especially remember was at the Golden Sands Assisted Living Center and it involved hats.  My mother was a resident there at that time and somehow LaRue knew about her hat collection.  At LaRee’s suggestion, Mom and her friends all wore hats to the show and then were allowed to try on some of the vintage hats as well.  How the ladies (and the men!) all enjoyed it.
     Still later, when we owned the Bookvendor in Long Beach, we asked LaRee in to do an author’s signing for her book, Ladies’ Vintage Accessories (now in its 4th printing).   And when I was writing my own book, Dear Medora, I appealed to LaRee more than once for clarification on terms such as ‘pongee’ and ‘challis’ and ‘grimps.’  She was a storehouse of information and, if she didn’t know off the top of her head, she knew where to find out.
     I’m pleased to say that over the years we have become friends.  For that reason, if no other, I would attend her presentation next Sunday.  But there are so many other reasons… The program, “Fashion before Freedom,” will highlight fashions before women had the right to vote and will include a little history of the suffrage movement in Washington and Oregon.
     Two years ago Washington celebrated women’s 100th year of suffrage this year marks the centennial for the women’s vote in Oregon, as well. I’m looking forward to hearing LaRee’s insights on how those events affected women’s fashions.  Judging from ‘before and after getting-the-vote’ pictures of my grandmother and other female relatives, the changes were fast and furious.
     The event takes place at 1:30 next Sunday afternoon at the Naselle School and is open to the public.  It will be well worth the journey up river to see what LaRee has up her sleeve – or in her reticule – on this occasion!

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Coming to Oysterville: The Willapa Hills

February 4th, 2012

     The Willapa Hills – the band, not the geologic formation – will be in Oysterville two weeks from tomorrow and I can hardly wait.  I’m not sure at what point you can call something “an annual event” but I’m pretty sure their house concerts in our living room qualify.
     They were first here in 2005 – same six talented musicians, different group name – and they’ve been here most years since.  For those who don’t know, they are Andrew Emlen, Jessica and Sunrise Fletcher, Kerrie McNally, Fern Fey, and Jennifer Hanigan.  They are folk musicians “known for their vocal harmonies and varied instrumentations” says their publicity.
     And that would be more than enough for me, but their appeal and importance goes far beyond that.  For the past three years they have been developing a body of folk music about our very area – Pacific and Wahkiakum counties.  They have been interviewing old-timers, reading personal histories and accounts, and transforming those stories into a musical lexicon specific to us.
     Their songs are about fishermen and loggers, oysterwomen (yes! women!) and boat captains, shipwrecks and salmon and, in some cases about people we know.  They speak about our relationship to the land and the river and the bay.  Fittingly, their recent album is called “Portrait of Place” and sample songs can be heard or CDs purchased at www.cdbaby.com/cd/willapahills .  They have a Facebook presence as well.
     For this year’s concert, Andrew says:  We have decided to prepare new songs on the same theme – the people of the Columbia-Pacific region. There will be at least six original songs ready by show time. Sunrise, Kerrie and I each have contributed a couple songs.
     One of mine is an instrumental. The other is called “What the Women Left Behind”, based on a lecture of the same title by historian Irene Martin. The title has a few different meanings. When you travel the unroaded sections of the Columbia, one way to find the former river town sites is to go in February or March and look for the daffodils. Though the buildings have long rotted away, the daffodils continue to bloom. Once you are there, you notice the other durable traces, mostly broken dishes … in short, what the women left behind – their gardens and housewares that made these places home. Their story isn’t as visible as that of the men of the same era, but they helped run fishing boats and managed home and business affairs. A second meaning of the title is what they left behind to come here – often famine in Europe.
     One of Kerrie’s songs I’m going to leave as a surprise for you; the other is “Silent Paddles”, her tribute to the Cathlamet.
     Sunrise said that we needed a dairy song to represent Skamokawa; later that evening he took out his ukulele and expressed his desire to play it on at least one song in the show. I suggested that the dairy song should be on the ukulele. He wrote one the next day.
     Also, as we did in Portrait of Place, we are making our own arrangements of local songs by other songwriters, including “Astoria’s Bar” by Mary Garvey and Kate Wolf’s “The Wind Blows Wild”, and we have learned songs representative of immigrant groups – Jennifer will be singing one in Danish! We will throw in a couple tunes from Portrait of Place as well, and are willing to do a couple more if we get a request.
     Did I mention that besides Sunrise’s ukulele, instruments played by various members of the group include cello, fiddle, Jew’s harp, piano, rainstick, autoharp, banjo, guitar and probably others I’ve forgotten?  And did I mention that I can hardly wait?

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Off To See The Wizards or… you’re not in Oysterville anymore, Sydney!

February 3rd, 2012

User-friendly? Not!

     It’s curious to me how February has transformed itself from the exciting birthday month of my childhood into days and days of doctoring.  Somehow, every medical/dental appointment of the year has landed on my February calendar – the annual check-ups, the semi-annual check-ups, the referrals to new specialists, the follow-ups, the consultations.  All in this twenty-eight or twenty-nine day period.
     Yesterday it was a trip into Portland for my once-a-year visit to Oregon Health Sciences University.  Not only does that highly respected institution have the least memorable name in the world (OHSU?  OSHU?  What???) but it is the least user-friendly of any medical facility ever.  So many buildings.  So many corridors.  Elevators that only go to some of the floors.  Doctors that are in this pavilion today, that pavilion tomorrow.
     And god forbid you should need to call them ahead of time or between visits!  I was standing at the nurse’s station in our own friendly little Ocean Beach Hospital a few years back, and a doctor was standing there with a telephone to his ear, obviously on hold.  Minutes went by and he remarked to one of the nurses, “At least when you are waiting for someone at OHSU, there’s good classical music to listen to.”  Yep.  Been there!
     Predictably, we got lost and, also predictably there was no one at the Information Desk.  Minutes ticked by and we finally forged ahead anyway and asked the first person with a big OHSU Personnel Nametag for directions.  She was very accommodating, but five walking minutes later, we were more lost than ever.  And so it went.
      By the time I found my doctor, I felt like I had been following the yellow brick road forever.  And, like the Wizard of Oz, she really didn’t have any definitive answers for me.  “Our best guess is…”   Where were my ruby slippers?  Where was Glinda the Good Witch?  Where the hell was the exit?
     I have five more pesky appointments this month in various places – Ilwaco, Astoria, Longview and Vancouver.  Thank goodness none in Oz.  Once a year is more than plenty!

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Thoughts on a Spring Hat Day

February 2nd, 2012

Backlit in My Spring Hat

     Yesterday morning, a blintz and coffee at the Full Circle Cafe with my writer friend Ruth.  At noon, a burger at the Shelburne Pub with Steve and Denise of the Pacific County Historical Society. We talked about writing projects and the vagaries of history — my idea of the perfect way to while away the time.  The sun was shining.  I wore my new spring hat and life was good.
     At the bottom of the pub menu, I noticed that it says The Shelburne Inn is the oldest operating hotel and inn in Washington State… and I pointed that out to the table-at-large.  We thought about it…
     “What about Dayton?  Or LaConner?  Don’t they have old hotels?”
     “Or what about the Tokeland Hotel?  It’s pretty old.”
     “Maybe,” I said, “it’s one of those ‘oldest continuously operating’ deals.  Like the Oysterville Post Office is the oldest continuously operating post office under the same name in the State.  Those qualifiers make all the difference.”
     “But I think it was closed in the fifties,” someone said.
     My curiosity was peaked.  The possibility of recidivist history is always challenging.   So later in the day I looked up the Shelburne’s website and found that the hotel has operated continuously since 1896.   There it was!  That word ‘continuously!’
     On the other hand, the Tokeland Hotel’s website says In 1889 the Kindreds expanded their farmhouse and opened the Kindred Inn.  Okay.  Earlier date.  But no ‘continuously’ and the name was different in the beginning.
     So… what’s the truth?  And, at the end of the day, it probably doesn’t much matter to anyone but me.  As long as the food is good and beds comfortable, feeling that they are staying at the “oldest” may give some satisfaction to visitors.  Now if only they could say Washington slept here…  Or maybe Lewis and Clark…

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The Best Month!

February 1st, 2012

     February!  The best month of the year!  At least that’s what I thought during my schoolgirl days.  That was before ‘they’ ruined it by consolidating presidents’ birthday celebrations and cheating us out of a holiday.  Fortunately, all that only-on-a-Monday business came along after I was grown.
     I remember waking up on February first in those long-ago days with the tingle of anticipation.  It was the shortest month of the year and at its very end (except for Leap Years) was my birthday!  In the meantime, there would be two holidays – Lincoln’s birthday on the 12th and Washington’s on the 22nd.  And in-between, Valentine’s Day!  To my way of thinking, February was even better than the year’s other biggee, December.
     Some years I made my valentines ‘from scratch.’  For days the dining room table would be littered with pieces of red construction paper, pink and white tissue paper, bits of paper lace and… stickers!  How I loved those stickers!  But I had to be very careful which stickers went where.  Heaven forbid I give someone – especially a boy! — the wrong message!  And, of course, I made the most special one for the teacher.
     Inevitably, I ran out of time getting all those greetings together, but there was always a reprieve two days before the Valentine’s Party.  It was, in my mind, purposely arranged to have a school holiday on Lincoln’s birthday just so we could finish up our valentine preparations.
     The other thing great about celebrating those presidents’ birthdays was that we spent several school days before each of them doing “president things.”  Every year we heard how Lincoln grew up poor and how he walked a zillion miles to return a book he had borrowed – Honest Abe.  And we heard the story of George Washington and the cherry tree – another honesty story which, in all honesty (ahem!), I thought was pretty lame.
     But the best part was cutting out those black silhouettes of each president’s face and pasting them on big red hearts.  I liked that so much that years later I taught that lesson to my primary classes, even though by then we had to lump both holidays together.  And the new observance didn’t even come on a real birthday – just on the Monday closest to Washington’s.  Totally bogus.
     Well, such were my thoughts this morning on the first day of February.  I wonder if there are still kids who feel all tingly when they think about the month ahead.  I hope so.

 

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A Bright-Blue-Sky-Night in Oysterville

January 31st, 2012

Food for Thought

     Last night was a Reading Night at Hal and Diane’s – the first in many months.  It was good to see familiar faces and to welcome Gregg (or Craig?), a newly arrived resident who spoke with the soft drawl of Georgia.
     As usual, the selections people had brought to read ran the gamut – from Coleridge’s “Xanadu” to the poetry of Mary Oliver and Wallace Stegner’s Mormon Country.  It was Clay who read the Stegner selection, prefacing it with admiration for “lyrical writers” like our own neighbor Sue.  “I’m just a technical writer,” he said.  But I wondered if he realizes how lyrically he speaks.
     My own offering was more mundane.  It was a chapter called “The Horse” from Daniel Pool’s delightful descriptions and explanations of nineteenth century England, What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew.  A change of pace from the poetic and lyrical, but well received just the same.
     Also, as usual, the discussion was lively and I wished afterwards that I had taken notes on the books and authors that were mentioned.   There were familiar and well-loved names but oh so many that I had not heard of.  There were enough words of glowing recommendation to carry me through several winters of reading.
     Afterwards, while we were enjoyed Diane’s delicious pie (her signature dish!) – I should have called it Reading and Pie Night – someone asked our newcomer how he happened to settle here.  “I came looking for blue sky,” he said.  He had been living in Texas in places that once had nothing but blue sky, but emissions from coal factories have provided a seemingly endless layer of smudge.
     “I think I’ve come about as far as I can,” he said laughingly, but then lamented the huge ships that may soon be transporting coal down the Columbia and over to Japan “so it can be carried back to us on the air currents and blot out our blue skies.”  Which, of course, led to thoughts of the on-going LNG controversies and other environmental issues.
     Other local topics came up, too, like the probability that “Shoalwater Shenanigans” will be reprised this summer and the fact that the Ocean Park Methodist Church will be celebrating its centennial year in 2014.  For a Monday night in mid-winter, it was a wonderfully thought-provoking and enjoyable few hours.  When I walked out the door, I fully expected the night sky to have turned bright blue…

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Augmenting Oysterville

January 30th, 2012
Wachsmuth Cottages circa 1940

     The Oysterville Design Review Board met this weekend to consider the conceptual plan for an addition to the one remaining Wachsmuth Cottage in Oysterville.  We were out of town but owners Carol and Tucker wrote to say that the meeting went well and they are on to the next step.  Hooray!
     We are especially pleased for the purely selfish reason that we like them a lot and by enlarging their tiny cabin, Carol and Tucker will be able to make the transition from part-time to full-time status. That means we will have ‘new’ neighbors – neighbors who have a long history with Oysterville, in Tucker’s case going back to the 1860s.  And there’s something about having neighbors with deep roots in the village that is reassuring, at least to me.
     When I stop to think about it, a large percentage of our residents have family history here.  At least half our homeowners are second generation Oystervillians.  Some are third, fourth or fifth generation.  I think that gives a stability that a more recently-arrived population can’t provide.   Not that we are – or want to be – stuck in the past, but our history provides a context in which to decide upon present and future developments in the village.  It balances the new ideas and energy brought by residents who are just beginning to build a history here.
     Since our neighbors at the ‘Y’ began their addition to the Charles Nelson house a year or so ago, I believe the Wachsmuth Cottage has had the distinction of being the smallest house in Oysterville – great for weekends or for a few weeks at a time, but too small for full-time occupancy. It is the only remaining cottage of the three built in 1939 by Harry and Louise Wachsmuth with the original intention of housing family members during vacations.  Watching its transformation from cottage to house will make for an exciting summer in Oysterville. We hope construction moves forward smoothly and quickly so the moving in can begin!    

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Discomblogulated in Seattle!

January 29th, 2012

Two Feet, No Hands

     Today is Blog Entry Day 670 but, unlike my habitual get-it-posted-by-7:00-a.m. – 7:30-at-the-latest – I am about ten hours late.  Technical Difficulties.
     Today’s discom-blog-ulation began several months ago, aptly enough, with a message from my Cousin Abby saying, “Sydney, you are SO busted!  I read your blog every day and I see that you were in Seattle AGAIN and you didn’t call us…”  Guilty as charged!
     Abby is one of my Oysterville Red House Cousins.  She and her husband and their two pre-schoolers live in Seattle as do her two sisters with their families and now the girls’ parents, as well.  First to move there were Abby and Dan and everyone else has followed.  I think of them as the Pied Pipers of the Emerald City.
     We love it when any or all of them come visiting us, but we honestly never think of going to see them at their end.  They all work and have crazed schedules complicated by weekends full of skiing and running marathons and other activities that wear us out to think about.
     But we felt chagrinned and made arrangements…  Last evening we went for dinner.  Fabulous!  We loved their house, were entertained by the children, caught up with the family gossip, and ate and drank more than our share.  Our friend Linda was with us and, as she said afterwards, “Sydney, you have the best cousins!”  Yep!
     So, this morning I was prepared to blog all about the good time we had and then found that Linda’s internet connection is temporarily screwy.  We considered taking the laptop to Starbucks but it just seemed wrong wrong wrong to leave Linda’s snug condo and brave the pelting rain.  Better to wait for our trusty Oysterville connection…
     And besides, this morning I wouldn’t have been able to add that we stopped at South Center on the way home and I bought a spring hat and a new pair of shoes!  Thanks, Abby!  It never would have happened without you!

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A Primrose from Ruth

January 28th, 2012

January Sunshine

     Some people simply gladden my heart and make me smile.  I wonder why that is.  They don’t have to do anything or say anything.  They simply have to come within my field of vision or pop into my thoughts.  My friend Ruth is one of those people.
     Yesterday she appeared at my door with a little pot of bright yellow primroses and a big smile.  “Here is your primrose!” she announced, just as though it had burst into bloom with my name written all over it!  What a delightful way to brighten my day!
     I love primroses and so, apparently, do deer and maybe slugs.  I don’t have much luck putting them in the garden unless I remember to guard diligently against attack.  At this time of year, that probably won’t happen – too dark, too cold, too wet out there!  I intend to keep these sunshiny blossoms nearby until my wimpy gardening habits can assure it good nurture below our library window.  Or maybe just east of the big stump where I can better keep my eye on it.
     Accordingly, I did a little primrose research.  I wasn’t surprised to find that its name was once “prime rose” (or the Latin “prima rosa”) because, in much of Europe, it is the one of the first flowers of spring.
     I was surprised to find that, under appropriate’ conditions, primroses can cover the ground in open woods and shaded hedgerows.  And, in many countries picking primroses or removing primrose plants from the wild is illegal.  That law is presumably meant for human foragers, not for deer.
     How I wish my garden offered the ‘appropriate’ conditions!  Apparently, primroses were once a common sight in Victorian cottage gardens. (They were Mr. Disraeli’s favorite flower.)  It would be grand if we could revive that look for Oysterville!
     I was also interested to learn that primrose flowers and leaves are edible.  I guess the habits of the deer people should have been a clue.  The leaves are said to vary in taste between a mild lettuce flavor and more bitter salad greens.  I’m not really tempted to go that route – I’d rather feast my eyes on their lovely blossoms.
     So, once again Ruth has caused me to smile and smile some more.  And, no doubt, I’ll be smiling at every glimpse of primrose from now on.  Thanks, Ruth!

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