Learning *Again* About Forgiving

There are certain things that we learn throughout our lives that don't seem to stick and we have to relearn them again and again. 

• Eating pizza near bedtime can bring on strange dreams.
• Walking barefooted on a hot street will quickly become painful. 
• There is a difference between lust and love.
• Listen to your "gut." 

Yeah these aren't really deep in your brain in the moment. *I mean, that pizza looks and tastes really good! *I just have to run out to the car; it won't take me long enough to burn. *But this is such a magic moment! *I know I shouldn't but can't resist...

So we have to relearn these things almost every time. It is especially humbling when we think of ourselves as "grown ups" that, you know, actually know stuff. 

 

And then there is the concept of forgiveness. There have been times I have carried a resentment toward someone who has hurt me or taken advantage of my good will, someone who has used me and tossed me aside. It can fester and get all painful. And I'm hurting. Then maybe I remember about forgiveness. And I can forgive them and move on. Most the time they don't even know they have hurt me nor that I have forgiven them. And yet I am the one set free. 

Breaking up is hard to do. When we love someone and they drop us, it takes some time to recover. And after we have sat in the corner and sucked our thumbs for a while, we get up and get back to living. But forgiving them for hurting you isn't easy. So many time we hear people dissing their former lover, friend, parent, disrespecting them by doing things to "get back at them," or spreading hurtful information. Truth. Lies. Doesn't matter. I never quite understood that and tried to never bad-mouth my children's father, especially to them. But yet it took me a long time to forgive him. Harder to forgive him for hurts he has caused his sons.

I had a friend, my best friend, who just stopped talking to me. It wasn't out of the blue; she was slowing down returning my calls. And then she just left me alone. I never knew why. I never understood what I had done to cause her to just drop me out of her world. And many years later I reconnected with her. I think I had believed she would eventually tell me what I did that caused to to cut me out of her life, but she didn't. I would hear about her doing things with other friends, friends who had come into her life while I was gone from it, and feel resentment. They were living what should have been my life with her! And it hurt. I thought about simply walking away in order to protect my feelings.

And then I remembered--again--this thing called forgiveness. I needed to research it a bit--again--to remember why I needed to be forgiving. It was not about her, but about me. Again. And as I forgave her, a huge 30-year lump came out of my heart. And I can now enjoy what I have without resentment, without pain. With happiness.

Forget? Naw it's not about forgetting. It's about forgiving, even if they have no idea that you are forgiving, that you needed to forgive them. It is being empowered. Today forgiving is one of my superpowers...until I need to remember, relearn. 

Again.

And so it goes
peace~~~

 

Weird Portland Wednesday: What's in a Carpet?

 

Carpet is simply, you know, carpet. We walk on it, sit on it, vacuum it, and play games on it. It's just there, under our feet. How often do we really pay attention to the carpet? Well, we in Portland pay great attention! We have the world famous Portland International Airport carpet.

The carpet featured geometric shapes on a teal background, representing the intersection of the north and south runways seen by air traffic controllers from the airport's tower at night. It was designed in 1987. Over time, the carpet gained a cult following. Multiple social media accounts were dedicated to it and more than 20,000 pictures were posted to its official Instagram hashtag, #pdxcarpet. Airport visitors often took pictures of their feet on the carpet.

Portland Monthly said about the carpet, "A tealy turquoise number with pops of red and lavender and a loose runway inspiration, the old carpet had the ’80s flavor of a Patrick Nagel painting or a disposable mouthwash cup. But to many, it meant home."

And we love our carpet so much, that we wear it. Socks, shoes, hats, leggings, ties, shirts, all have our carpet design. Coasters, playing cards, and t-shirts all sport the design.

When the Port of Portland decided to remove it in 2013 for something new, we were up in arms. The change finally started in 2015. That May, a roll of carpet with googly eyes served as the grand marshal for the Rose Festival’s Starlight Parade. 

As the carpet was removed, four local businesses took it off their hands and sold it to Portlanders in many different forms. Milwaukie’s Carpet Mill Outlet made 2'x3' floor mats to sell. Nagl Floor Covering made such items as luggage tags, coasters, alphabet letters, and die-cut state-of-Oregon shapes. Two Dogs in a Boat designed doormats, magazine racks, and sling-back chairs. City Liquidators created a $249 carpet-covered ottoman as well as one-foot “selfie squares." 

Interestingly, there is still some of the old carpet in Terminal A, but the new carpet is everywhere else in the 13 acre airport. The new carpet, still an unusual color and design for an airport, doesn't have the same feel for Portlanders yet. But it may still grow on us. 

PDX carpet. One more way we keep Portland Weird.
peace~~~

What is a Lady?

According to Wikipedia (the source I would always tell my students not to cite...but now I'm retired and I can do as I please :)), the word "lady" is a term of respect for a girl or woman, the equivalent of "gentleman." Once used to describe only women of a high social class or status, the female equivalent of lord, now it may refer to any adult woman. Informal use of this word is sometimes euphemistic or, in American slang, condescending.

The Cambridge dictionary defines "lady" as a noun, and says, "a woman who is polite and behaves well toward other people: Try to act like a lady.  It also says, "a woman who behaves in a way that is traditionally considered to be suitable for a woman." 

These definitions are the crux of my problem. What is suitable behavior for a woman and how does one therefore act? No one says how, only to do.

When my sister and I were at that clumsy awkward age of...well we've pretty much always been at that age...early teens, our mother enrolled us into the Sears Charm School. Yes, Sears had a charm school. We learned how to set a formal table, how to sit properly, how to walk. We learned how to take the stairs--book on our heads, eyes straight ahead never looking where our feet go, gracefully. We learned the model stance and how to walk down an aisle. It was such a good class, mom signed us up twice.  Yeah, we obviously must have failed the first time.... My sister was much better at all this than was I. I wrote that down as being younger :) It was just later that I realized I was simply a klutz and learned to embrace it.

My definition of a lady is a woman who sits with her knees together, skirt down over her knees, legs over to the side or crossed. She is sitting straight, no slouching allowed. A lady is graceful and holds her tea cup tastefully. A lady doesn't laugh at her date's underwear on the first date. 

It seems to me that being a lady is exhausting. It was tough being a lady, remembering all the things that needed to be done to remain "suitable" for a woman. Having held her body so tense with holding herself together she needs to take a nap afterwards. Exhausting.

Lady

Me

Lady

Me

Given all this, I long ago decided that I didn't want to be a lady, but a full-grown woman.  I'm polite. I'm a nice person. I can play coy but I am not coy. I speak my mind. I can be sweet, but I am not sweet. I like to think of myself as a bit spicy. I like myself and who I have become. I'm comfortable in my skin. I'm a bit clumsy but happy. I have bruises that I have no idea where I got them. I tend to walk into a door before I open it because in my head I am already through it. I make myself laugh :)

I love ladies! Watching Catherine (Kate), Duchess of Cambridge, is a true pleasure as was watching Princess Diana. But I have to admit, I enjoyed Sarah (Fergie), Duchess of York so much more. She was feisty :)

So what is a lady? I still am not sure but it ain't me, Babe.
And so it goes
peace~~~

Kilroy Was Here

  

We've all seen it, that cute little bald guy with a big nose hanging over a fence or a wall, with the words, "Kilroy was here" beside him. Most of us have even written it on a wall or two somewhere.

It's a statement of our presence in the world, a fun mark of existence. But from where did it start?

The phrase "Kilroy was here" is known throughout the world. It went viral long before there was social media. It started in America during World War II. Kilroy was found everywhere American soldiers went, even the beachheads they stormed. It seemed to be a unique American graffiti. There was a story that one of his most daring appearances may have been at the Potsdam Conference in 1945. During the summit, Harry Truman, Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin had exclusive use of a VIP bathroom. One day, Stalin reportedly used the facilities, and came out demanding to know from one of his aides who Kilroy was, having found the drawing on one of the walls. 

For many years no one knew the origin of this little fella. A few years earlier in 1938 there was a similar character in England, Mr. Chad.

Instead of announcing his presence, Mr. Chad made a comment on shortages and rations during the war. His doodles said things like WOT? No tea? Or WOT? No sugar? And it is certain that our Kilroy came from this little character, Mr. Chad. But who was Kilroy?

In 1946, the American Transit Association
held a radio contest to establish the origin of the phrase. A number of men claimed to be the artist. One of them was James J. Kilroy, who worked as at the Bethlehem Steel shipyard in Quincy, Massachusetts during the war inspecting the work done by others on the tanks and hulls of warships.

As Kilroy explained:

I started my new job with enthusiasm, carefully surveying every inner bottom and tank before issuing a contract. I was thoroughly upset to find that practically every test leader [the head of a work crew] I met wanted me to go down and look over his job with him, and, when I explained to him that I had already checked the job and could not spare the time to crawl through one of those tanks again, he would accuse me of not having looked the job over.

I was getting sick of of being accused of not looking the jobs over and one day as I came through the manhole of a tank I had just surveyed, I angrily marked with yellow crayon on the tank top, where the tester could see it, 'Kilroy was here.'

The following day, a test gang leader approached me with a grin on his face and said, ‘I see you looked my job over.' I nodded in agreement.

Kilroy provided corroborating statements from men he worked with at the shipyard. He assumed that men who had worked there, when they joined the service, took the phrase with them overseas. 

The Transit Association provided James Kilroy the grand prize: a full-size trolley street car! And just before Christmas 1946, a 12-ton trolley car was delivered to Kilroy's home. He loved it! He attached it to his house and six of his nine children used it as their living space.

The next time you see this little doodle, the next time you have the urge to write it on a wall or a chalkboard or on a sidewalk, remember the rich history of this little fella. He is known throughout the world and is still announcing his presence to this day. This is outside Osama Bin Laden's house....

 

And so it goes
peace~~~

What a Dumb Question

 

 

It is said that there is no such thing as a dumb question, but that's just not true. There are plenty of stupid questions out there. Maybe as a teacher in my classes and as a mother and grandmother, I believe there is no such thing as a dumb question, but all non-judgement is tossed out the window when it comes to the online world.

From The 30 Dumbest Questions Ever Asked Online, here are a few examples:

• Should I tell my parents I’m adopted?
• Does it take 18 months for twins to be born? Or 9?
• Why are the holes in cats fur always in the right places for their eyes?
• Is it possible for tattoos to get passed on genetically from parent to child?
• Where do lost socks go when they go missing? (I thought everyone knew that they they go feral, running the street with other lost socks)

So yeah, there are dumb questions out there. And I don't have a problem with those type, you know, dumb people kind of thing. Like people who wear weird things when shopping at Walmart. Those are just every day things :)  It is the current badgering ones, instigating opposition ones that put me in a quandary.

Question: Don't all lives matter?

Answer: Of course all lives matter. What a dumb question. I find it a dumb question because anyone/everyone who asks this question already knows that the BLM movement is all about.  They already know that it is focusing on (to borrow the words of a colleague) equal justice, safety, quality education, healthcare, decent paying jobs, etc. Some groups need attention because this hasn't been happening like it has been for the whites.  

Also said by another friend in explanation: "I, as a mother, grandmother, and a great grandmother of three, have to teach them about kindness. I have to teach them their history because it's not taught in schools...which means no one gets the information needed to become informed on issues plaguing the country. And, in addition, I, and their parents have to explain procedures for hopefully not being killed when pulled over for driving, walking, running, sitting, sleeping while Black, and explaining what the "n" word means and why kids make monkey noises at them, why the little girl they played with in the lower grades is no longer allowed to hang out anymore, why it's best not to wear a hat while driving, why they have to walk in twos through some neighborhoods...but maybe not in threes or fours. Ad infinitum... It's complicated and exhausting. Especially for those of us who have to live it." 

The reality is that all lives can't matter if black lives don't matter. 

The thing that bothers me, the crux of my, perhaps for lack of another better word, disgust with the question "Don't all lives matter?" or "Does one life matter more than others?" is that these questions are not asked to clarify anything. The person asking doesn't want to know anything more or deeper nor to engage in a conversation. It is asked to generate frustration and provoke dissension.

I'm no longer going to explain to those same people who continue to ask the same "don't all lives matter" type of question. After they have repeatedly been explained to regarding the question, the issue, the answer, they are simply itching for a fight. I don't need to engage. Instead I'm going to show them the love that Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Representative John Lewis have said is an important element in any protest. 

There will still be dumb questions, like "why should I apologize? I did nothing wrong! My family never owned slaves!" and "What are you talking about? I didn't grow up with any privileges! I had it just as hard." Questions that beg to be answered but knowing the question is rhetorical rather than a desire to understand how systemic racism works. But we can deal with those at another time.

And so it goes
peace~~~

What's on My Design Board Today?

No one can call this pandemic  horror a good thing. No one can say it's "not bad." But there are some side effects of staying-in-place that are unexpected. I'm enjoying having my fella home all day, working upstairs. And one of the outcomes of the pandemic is that I have tons of time to sew. Well, truth is as a retired person, I always had plenty of time to sew, but this staying-in-place gives me even more. No lunches out. No wild adventures. Simply staying at home and filling my time between sewing projects.

I have many projects going. I think I am jumping from one  project to another so I won't get bored. I finished the above quilt for donation this week. I'm calling it Green Starz. I'm sure someone can use it. What else do I have going on?

This quilt will be a Quilt of Valor.  The mission of Quilts of Valor Foundation is to cover service members and veterans touched by war with comforting and healing quilt. QOVs must be presented rather than simply sent to the veteran. I am making this quilt for my brother-in-law, Andy.  He served in Vietnam. COVID-19 and distance make this presentation difficult, so my niece will gather her family together in Houston, Texas and present it to her father. Hopefully we will be able to come along with ZOOM.

I also finished this week 30 new masks for a friend.  Her father owns a nursery and they wanted masks for the people who work the fields and sales. Each of us--my friend, her granny and I--are to make 30 masks each. Once I finished those, I have continued to make new masks.  Some are simple while others have a metal nose piece to stop that steamy glasses event.

Earlier this summer I started a new king-sized quilt for our bed.  I like changing the quilt with the changing seasons and we had only three big ones. While we Oregonians joke we have two seasons: FallWinterSpring and Summer I need, you know, four :) So I have been putting these blocks together all the month of July and now it's time to bring it around to finishing. I have three of seven columns together at this point

Also doing a bit each day is the project I am working on for a woman in Lebanon, Oregon.  She wanted to make a blanket using quilted squares that are crocheted

together. I'm making her squares and she is doing the crocheting. Since it will be a queen-sized blanket, I need to make 200 blocks/squares.  I'm down to 80 more. 

I also completed a job I started many years ago as a Christmas gift for my daughter-in-law. She had a red accessories kitchen, so I thought why not make her some pretty

scrappy red hot pads! Somehow I had them all finished except the borders and it never happened.  Found them this past week and finished them. Easy peasy job.

And last but not least, I am working on a new quilt top for my younger niece. She and her son recently were able to move out of my sister's house into their own space. I realized I never made her a quilt. Oh I made one for her baby boy when he was born and

one for his grandparents, but none for her. Therefore, I am working on a nice couch quilt to celebrate her new place! Only 250 Half Square Triangles (HSTs).  They are all ironed and ready to be trimmed. And do you see that Quilt of Valor back behind. It is waiting it's turn to have borders attached :) That happened yesterday. Now it's waiting in the queue to be quilted.

That's pretty much what I have hanging around. Waiting to get started is a major repair for a quilt that a friend's pup decided to eat and another friend wants some hot pads and masks. They are in line for next week...or the one after!

And so it goes
peace~~~

Throwback Thursday: The Sprague River Adventures of 1982

There comes a time when it's time to make a change in your life. I graduated from college with my Bachelor's degree in Spring of 1982 and had no job prospects beyond continuing to work part-time at Candy's Kwik Shop. Don't get me wrong. I loved working at Candy's Kwik Shop, but I wanted to start working in a full-time capacity doing something else I loved.

I flooded the market with resumes and cover letters. I created different resumes for different positions, depending on what I wanted to focus. I had a few interviews, based on those cover letters, but somehow I just didn't fit the need. During the recession of '82 when the nationwide unemployment rate was 10.8%, the old joke was,

How many Oregonians does it take to change a light bulb? Only one but 500 applied for the job.

With no job in sight, I was offered to tend to a house on the reservation in Sprague River, Oregon. The owner was relative of my neighbors, Bobby and Nellie Barney. I knew I could make a living as a free-lance writer with free rent, so I decided we needed to go visit our possible new home.

Nellie decided to drive.  Her truck had a camper shell, so we put the mattresses and blankets in the back, tossed in our four kids: Chris, Missy, David and Robbie. Nellie was driver and beside her was me and her brother, Dan.  Off we went!

The truck trouble started around Salem.  Salem is about 45 miles south of Portland. We stopped at a station to find out what was going on. Ahhh...the radiator was overheating. Nellie and I looked at one another and decided, "Heck, we've gone this far. Let's keep going! It's only another 235 miles." We found an empty plastic gallon jug and filled it with water, tossed the kids back in the camper and headed back down the highway.

The real adventures didn't begin until we turned off I-5 onto OR-58 (the Willamette Highway) at Goshen. Now we are driving on a two-lane highway that goes directly through the Willamette National Forest.  Dan preferred sitting shotgun, so Nellie and I were cummily together. Now I loved Dan--such a rascal--but he had troubles with the law. If we would see a car coming toward us on the highway, he would duck down in case it was the cops.  Yeah, like they would 1) know he had cop troubles, and 2) could recognize him as we drove past. But it helped his police paranoia and we just laughed. Sometimes he would do it, knowing it wasn't a cop, just to make them think Nellie and I were sitting closely side-by-side, holding hands and laughing.

And then there was the truck. We had used up the spare water long ago and now when we started overheating, we had to figure out some way to find water. There is very little along OR-58 but trees and more trees. But it was fall and the mountains had snow! So, we'd pull over to the shoulder and everyone would hop out. Along the way we had found other containers like cottage cheese containers and a plastic cup. So, we would scoop up the snow and use it in the radiator, jump back into the truck and ride away. Such gorgeous scenery along the highway, passing rivers and lakes, driving through mountain paths. Stopping often to enjoy the scenery as we cooled down and refilled the radiator.

When we arrived in Klamath Falls it was quite late. You know, all those stops :) This is where Nellie's folks lived and we were dropping off Dan. So the next day we took the truck to the garage and had it fixed. Not a big deal; mostly just a hose. We then headed back up to Sprague River. 

Such gorgeous scenery. I have always loved the area around Klamoth Falls and was excited to see the house. My sons, well not so much. We tootled around the reservation, looking at the beautiful mountain views. From the backyard of the house was a building-free view along the valley to the mountains. And the river. So close and delightful, even in fall's nongreenery. 

There were no adventures as we headed home.  Just a drive with few stops. Nellie and I didn't continue to sit cummily in the cab, but still laughed the whole way home. The kids were stuck in the back, so we couldn't hear them complaining or fighting. Life was good :)

When we got home, my sons announced they did not want to move. I understood but I could also (probably romantically) imagine us living rent free, tending to a house, me writing as a free-lance journalist, living in such a historical place. The end result was my children's father sued me for custody, my children were miserable with the courts, and I decided to stay in Portland for their sakes. And the rest is another chapter in our history.

And so it goes
peace~~~

Weird Portland Wednesday: The Wonder Dog

Oh those beautiful pets. They are part of our family, our lives. Beloved cats and dogs, pigs and chickens, birds. Interacting with them can lower our blood pressure, reduce our anxiety, and decrease depression. Scientists believe our animals can increase our levels of the hormone oxytocin. Oxytocin has a number of important effects on the body. It slows our heart rate and breathing, reduces blood pressure, and inhibits the production of stress hormones. All of these changes help create a sense of calm and comfort. And we love our pets. We think of them as "wonderful," "wonders of our lives." And, as much as it's true to us, they can't compete with Oregon's Bobbie the Wonder Dog.

Bobbie, a two-year old Scottish collie, lived with Frank and Elizabeth Brazier and their two daughters, Leona and Nova. Bobbie and the Braziers lived in Silverton, Oregon--about 40 miles south of Portland. In the summer of 1923, the family decided to take a road trip to visit relatives in Wolcott, Indiana.

Everyone hopped into the car and Bobbie jumped onto the luggage in the back of the car.  

Mid-August the family was ready to head home, so Frank, with Bobbie at his side, drove the car to gas up and get ready for the trip. Frank left Bobbie in the car while he went to pay. When he returned to the car, Bobbie was gone. Frank turned his head in time to see Bobbie running like the wind with three snarling dogs chasing him. Now Bobbie would often take off on his own, so Frank thought nothing of it; Bobbie would come back when he was ready.

But sadly he didn't return. The family and relatives searched the town for days, trying to find Bobbie. No deal. Finally, Frank and Elizabeth decided to head home.  Bobbie was gone. The family was heartbroken as they headed back to Oregon.

And then the incredible happened: On February 15, 1924--exactly six months after he’d run off from the Indiana gas station--daughter Nova spotted Bobbie while she was walking along a street in Silverton. Somehow Bobbie had managed to escape from the dog pack and spent the next six months tracking his family, covering the 2500 plus miles back to Oregon. He battled the elements, including crossing the unforgiving Continental Divide during the heart of winter and swimming across countless rivers in his single-minded quest. 

From Frank:

For three days he did little but eat and sleep. He would roll over on his back and hold up his pads, fixing us with his eyes to tell us how sore his feet were. His toe-nails were down to the quick, his eyes inflamed, his coat uneven and matted, and his whole bearing that of an animal which has been through a grilling experience. When he first came back he would eat little but raw meat, showing that he had depended for sustenance chiefly on his own catches of rabbits or prairie fowl. (https://www.inspiremore.com/bobbie-the-wonder-dog/)

Bobbie lived the remainder of his life as a celebrity. He starred in his own movie, Call of the Wild. He made guest appearances to fairs and shows. He was known worldwide. He even sired a litter of pups--16 pups! (He really was a wonder, eh?). And Disney eventually made a movie based on our Bobbie: Lassie Come Home.

Bobbie died three years after his incredible journey and was buried at the Oregon Humane Society Pet Cemetery in Portland (you knew there had to be a connection to Portland, right?).  The great Rin Tin Tin laid a wreath at Bobbie's grave site. Bobbie had been given a beautiful dog house, which was moved to Portland with his remains. A castle fitting a Wonder Dog.

Most Portlanders don't know that this wonderful dog is buried in our town, but Bobbie is not forgotten in his home town of Silverton. A 70-foot-mural dedicated to this devoted and steadfast dog depicts his life and incredible return to Silverton. And each year Silverton has a Pet Parade down Main Street honoring Bobbie. People walk the parade with their pets--dogs and cats and chickens and pigs and turtles, calves and goats. It is a lovely gesture honoring a wonder dog.

And having Bobbie here in Portland is just one more way we keep Portland Weird.
peace~~~