Hair!

 My grandmothers were such a wonderful, profound part of my life.  They always loved me, and they taught me a lot.  But some of our time together was very special.  I remember one summer when I was about three years old my Mom was busy with something, and hadn't the money or space to hire a full-time nanny.  So I spent half the the summer with each of my grandmothers.

My Dad's Mother was in Wisconsin Dells.  Most of my cousins were living in this summer resort.  I was in the middle of the cousins age-wise.  Grandma Kimball, my Dad's Mom, would pick berries and I ate as many as I could.  In later years I would pick along side her.  She picked at least twice as fast as I was, even when I was in college.

I remember that my Mom called her Mom "Ma" but my Mom wouldn't allow me to call her Ma!  Gramma Long lived in a very small village, and there was an outhouse.  It was a novelty, but not my favorite thing to use.  She cooked over a wood-fired iron cook-stove. And I can remember her skill.  She made donuts, which I had never had before that time.  There was a dog, and lots of cats.

My most vivid memory of that summer is about my hair.  I have lots of very thick, curly hair, even today.  Now, of course, it is short.  But until late in grade school it was mostly long.  My Mother would put it into ringlets after the weekly hair washing (I hated it!).  And each morning she brushed and tamed my hair into shape.  But the Grandmothers hadn't the practice that Mom had.  I don't remember how well, or not, they were at taming my mane.  But I am sure it was a challenge!

I had gone to camp the summer I was two.  My parents were teaching, and I was with a group of children of various ages. The counselors were very strict about keeping the children together, and not allowing them to sit with parents. We had meetings in a large tent, and I could see my Mom and Dad.  I escaped and went to sit with them, but someone came and got me.  I don't think I dared cry.

So . . . that week my hair went unbrushed.  My Dad tells me that he saw me with the group, my hair wild and tangled.  I don't remember what it took for Mom to get it back to shining orderly curls.

I also had an "Auntie."   Auntie Anna Esau wasn't really an aunt.  Though she was almost old enough to be a granny, she never married.  We had a wonderful friendship.  Anna adored me and I adored her.  Often people would stop and comment on how beautiful my hair was.  At the time I was less than five years old. I didn't know better when I went up to passersby and said, "Isn't my hair pretty?"  And, of course, they said yes, probably with a chuckle.  My Mom was mortified, but Anna just laughed and said, "She's just telling the truth!"

These days, I have a wonderful friend who has hair a lot like mine.  He has a hair salon, and tames the curls, now short, and makes them beautiful.  Thank you Ward Wicklund!

The Music of Ireland

Today I listened to the "Irish Priests", one of my Christmas favorites, even though it isn't really Christmas music.  Dad heard the music and asked for the CD to listen to, and we got into a discussion about Ireland.  I think my Irish blood is about 4 or 5 generations back.  My Irish ancestors were part of the Long clan.  My Grandfather on my Mother's side was Vern Long.

My Dad has been to Ireland and I haven't - yet.  He learned quite a bit about Ireland however, when he went there.  He told me about a book:  How the Irish Saved Civilization, by Thomas Cahill.  Cahill argues a case for the Irish people's critical role in preserving Western Civilization from utter destruction by the Huns and the Germanic tribes.  The Wikipedia entry is skeptical.  I would guess that there were many factors in European civilization, including the Irish monks toiling away at copying books. 

 We do know that Ireland has a long history of avoiding death as a penalty in any case.  We also know that St. Patrick brought Christianity, or to be precise, Catholicism, to Ireland.  Whether he got rid of the snakes is a very different question!  We also know that the Irish have music in their blood.  My Grandpa loved to sing, and it was one of the few ways of entertainment on the farm when my Mother was growing up.  Not so long before my Grandpa Long went to the nursing home, I went to where he lived, along with my Mother and her husband.  We all sang, even Grandpa.  It was quite wonderful.

No one can dispute the music and dancing of Ireland.  Both music and dance have been important for me as far back as I can remember.  I can't dance anymore in my arthritic body, but I can sing, and I do!  I love to hear beautiful music, especially if it is meaningful and/or fun.  And someday soon, I will visit Ireland in person.

Protest in the Sixties

It has been quite a while since I was in college in the University of Iowa.  It was in the second half of the sixties, and into the beginning of the seventies. Viet Nam was a constant nagging in the background, and at times burst into the open.  Dick Gregory talked to a huge auditorium full of students.  At the time he was on a hunger strike. There were peaceful protests on the grounds of the University, and at one point a temporary building was burned. 

I was in my junior year when Kent State burst into riots.  The University decided that anyone who chose could take their grade as it stood, and go home. I took the option, but I didn't have to go home because I lived off campus.

I was living in a community supported by the Lutheran Church.  We were a fairly large group, and we had adult mentors.  We discussed what we wanted to achieve: to tell adults why we were against the Viet Nam War.  As we had a church supporting us, we went to as many churches as we could, talking about what mattered to us. We simply did not believe war was the way to peace.

The University brought in the National Guards.  I remember taking a walk and passing a place where there were Guardsmen with rifles in hand. I didn't really believe the Guardsman would shoot me just walking by, but it was definitely scary.  Spooky!  The issues are not exactly the same, yet there are similarities.  The young people today are no longer in a lottery, and don't have to go to war against their will.  But there is so much damage to those who choose to go into the military - not just physical.  In fact, the mental and emotional damage can be even more difficult. 

My prayer is that we all will come to terms and stop killing people.  May we learn that we are all part of the whole, and we must learn to respect every being on the planet.

Upside Down Cake

"Let them eat cake!" This phrase is usually attributed to Marie Antoinette, even though there is no evidence for her having said this.  Yet whoever first said this . . . the attitude has survived much too long.  We are seeing it once again in the United States.  The big corporations once had legal boundaries, and once upon a time we had currency backed up with gold. The world we live in is cake turned upside down and messy.

There was a time when employers had a kind of unwritten contract with employees even if there was no written contract.  Employees often spent their entire working life in one corporation or company.  Now I don't necessarily advocate having the same job forever.  Yet, there is a very different expectation in much of corporate America these days.  Too often profits are the only goal.

Now the corporations are legally allowed to use their monetary clout in candidate elections. Two years ago, the Supreme Court overruled two important precedents about the First Amendment rights of corporations. A bitterly divided Supreme Court ruled that the government may not ban political spending by corporations in candidate elections.We haven't had a presidential election since then, but we will see what happens in the months to come.

I remember reading a speech by Adlai Stevenson, which suggested that if we had free trade around the entire globe, we would have no more war.  He was wrong, as we now know.  We arguably have more war on this planet than either Stevenson or Eisenhower could have imagined.  Sadly, we do not know how to end it. Much of it is about religion, but not all.  Some is about greed, and some is just about having enough to survive.

In the United States these days, too many people are hungry.  If you go to the the social services nearest you, I would bet that the room is full and people are waiting to see if they can get food, medical care and so on. The United States is on the same path that Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette took in the 18th century. We no longer use the guillotine, but I wonder what will happen when the peasants get really hungry?

Beauty All Around

This past weekend I had the opportunity to go up into the Frasier River Valley in Canada.  It was spectacular!  The mountains impressed me the most.  At times the tops of the mountains were shrouded in mist, and they seemed to be floating high above everything.  Then the mists dissolved in the sunlight, and the mountains showed their greenery.  It felt a bit like heaven. The foliage was equal to the setting, with trees painted gold and bronze in the midst of green Pine trees and bright red Sumac.  And of course the Frasier River was a constant companion.

We stopped for lunch and it was very tasty!

As we wound our way up the valley to our friends' house, we were high above the river.  We had been warned about the big slide, and it was a BIG slide.  We had one lane for about 1/4 mile, and it was winding road so we couldn't see the end..  Another car came through from the other side, which was a bit scary.  But we managed to squeeze past each other. I must say our driver was VERY good.

Once we got to our friends' house, we had a wonderful reunion and party, with excellent food.  Some of the guests I hadn't seen for some years.  That was a blessing.  Our hosts' home is just up the hill from the river, and it was lovely and peaceful.  The dog was happy to have so much attention.  She is quite sweet.

On the way home, I took lots of pictures.  It appeared to me to be even more beautiful than when we were going up the valley.  It was the release of tension that I needed.  Someday , I hope to go back up the Valley.

I Live in Beauty

I live in Whatcom County, Washington state.  That doesn't tell you why I love it so much.  My earliest memories are of Chicago - not the suburbs but the grit and dirt of the city itself.  At the time, I thought it was fine.  I hadn't known anything else.

When I was 12 we moved to Iowa, and I had a new perspective on Chicago.  Iowa at that time was full of cornfields and beef cows.  I also remember going to an experimental farm for raising buffalo.  And then I went to college in Iowa City.  I loved it there: it was peaceful, until just after the chaos of Kent State.  Then there were armed National Guards everywhere.

Then I went to Madison Wisconsin for grad school.  It was lovely too.  Then on to St. Louis Missouri for law school at Washington University.  That was beautiful - there was a large park nearby, and lots of green where my then husband and I lived and worked.

And then on to Seattle.  That was a big change.  Seattle in those days was not nearly as sophisticated as it is now.  But it was quite beautiful for a city.  I loved it there for a long time.  Then after about 14 years, I moved north to a 13 acre plot with lots of trees, chickens and horses.  That filled my heart for a long time.

Next I got a job in Olympia, the state capitol.  I lived just up a hill from the beach, next to a creek and was surrounded by trees.  That lasted four years.

I have a perspective from living in a variety of places.  When I tell you this is the most beautiful place I have ever lived, you know it is not hyperbole.

Whatcom County is truly beautiful.  There are lots of trees, hills, the Nooksack River, and Bellingham Bay.  I drive through the county often.  I live near the center of the county and my dad and I live about 20 miles from the biggest city: Bellingham.  It is green all the way into town.  Even in the "city" there are deer and other wildlife.  One of my friends lives on a plot that backs up to a green belt.  I have often seen does with their fawns in the spring, and once I saw a majestic six-point stag!  In the late summer the eagles gather on the Nooksack River to gorge on salmon.  My dad and were delighted when we saw hundreds of eagles.

We I live on an plot just shy of a half acre in a small town.  There are fruit trees and a pond.  The frog chorus is spectacular.  Mostly the people who live here are families with children.  It is a safe place.  I am looking forward to Halloween because the children are so fun to watch.  The little ones come early with a parent, and the older kids come a bit later.  It has been a long time since I've heard trick or treat from a small child.  It's fun!

One of my favorite sights is Mount Baker, majestic and clad in snow year round. There are legends about the mountain.  The natives in the area call the mountain Komo Kulshan. You can find the fascinating legend of Komo Kulshan here: http://home.online.no/~arnfin/native/lore/leg268.htm   The name means "White Steep Mountain."  From our home it is about a 1/2 drive to the National Forest, where one can see Komo Kulshan in the south and Mount Shukshan in the north.  The National Forest is in the middle, with spectacular views everywhere at any time of the year.

Truly, I believe this is heaven on earth.

The Blessing of "Aunties"

I was born in Alaska, and a native grandmother held me in church.  No one else could keep me quiet and content. She chewed the skins and made her last pair of mukluks for me.  I don't even know her name.  But I do know that she loved me.  And I know that we had a past life, in which I was her mother.  She checks in with me occasionally, and often smokes pipe with me.

 When I was two, my parents and I moved to Chicago, where I met Anna Esau.  I would crawl out of bed and totter downstairs to see Anna.  What I loved was that she adored me.  She didn't let me get away with anything, and at the same time she clearly loved me unconditionally.  I remember lots of laughter and cookies. 

One vivid memory is about my hair: it has always been very curly, and at the time, it was strawberry blond curls down to my lower back. People had so often told me my hair was pretty that I repeated it to others.  My mother was appalled and told me I shouldn't say such a thing.  But Anna Esau laughed and told Mom that I was just telling the truth.  I suspect the passersby were amused by it. 

When I was three, I had my tonsils out. I remember it clearly.  First, Mom and I went to the doctor, who took a blood sample.  Then we went to the hospital, and Anna was there.  She was an OR nurse.  I had to have a shot for pre-op. Now, when I was a year old, in Alaska, I had a serious infection and had to have shots.  I didn't like having the shots and wasn't going to let anyone do that to me again!  But . . . Anna was stronger than I, in will power even more than in physical strength.  She gave me the shot.  

She also took me into the OR and was there the whole time.  She helped me through the anesthesia process.  When I woke up I was in my hospital room with Anna right in my line of sight.

Anna had a friend, Freida, and Freida's father living in the apartment with her.  The elderly gentleman was an alcoholic.  Anna's response to that was to give him measured amounts of alcohol to drink - not enough to make him drunk but enough to keep him from painful withdrawal.  This man liked me, and he was also a carpenter.  He made me a toy chest.  It was quite beautiful.

Even when we  moved to a new apartment, Anna Esau was a part of my life.  She took Mom and me to an Estate Sale.  I spotted a beautiful little antique table, and I wanted it.  Anna had seen it too and had intended to buy it and take it home.  Instead, she bought it for me.  It was a long time before I recognized its value.  I was about forty years old when a friend who had worked at Sotheby's told me how valuable it was in money, though I already knew its value in love.

The last contact I had with Anna was a phone call.  It was surreal, partly because I had been asleep.  I had not heard from her in quite a while.  She asked about my parents, whether they were okay.  I told her they were.  Later, I found out they really weren't.  She knew.  My Dad told me that her mission was to keep families healthy - in many ways.  My parents were together for a while after that phone call, but finally they did divorce.  Both remarried.

I will never forget Miss Anna Esau: nurse extraordinaire; truth teller; lover of life; comforter of the little girl I once was.