a little red hen

Beautiful Yetta, a Jewish Chicken to love...

The city where we live, Portland, a northwest bubble, in the larger bubble, Oregon, is sunny and crisp today.  Summer seems to have taken time off; we wear light jackets.  We're sorry to have left high heat to our New York family.  We have also moved into an ethnically-challenged environment where all the women are white and the men are not bad looking and white also--to badly paraphrase Garrison Keillor.

Why a bubble?  Another glorious Saturday Farmers Market can distract from events that seem far away.  Issues with much traction  here revolve around the land and the environment--important, but what about threats to democracy?  

Terrible trouble is being brewed on the other coast by uneducated people blindly following a crazy fool whose cause is stoked by a woman who perverts feminism with every breath she takes.  I choose not to speak their names on this site.  Two blogs I read regularly for their insights Darlene's Hodgepodge from Arizona and  Citizen K from the state of Washingon enlighten readers on the dangers seeping from this execrable duo.  I thank them for doing the work. 

To celebrate the possibilities of diversity which might expand my own new city's bubble, I offer a children's book I'm about to mail to granddaughter Roxie in New York.  Each of my grandkids has been indoctrinated into my love of hens.  When they are older, I'll try to explain the reason behind this obsession.  I believe my maternal great grandmother in Poland must have raised chickens; this is an invention since no one was kind enough to share any of my ancestor story.

Ron, however, brings chickens closer to me via his paternal grandfather, the one who was brought to America from Bialystok, Poland by his sons who'd come before World War One.  The Blooms love to tell how this ultraorthodox Jewish gentleman, a ritual slaughterer (mostly chickens I assume) and scholar, arrived on the boat at Ellis Island with an explanation.  Wind had blown his professional certificate out of his hands and into the sea.  Now he could devote himself to religious study and be supported by his three American sons.

[Aside:  My sister-in-law, M.M., who reads my blog, is older than spouse Ron, will--I hope-- correct inaccuracies  in this story.]

Yetta, Jewish Chicken, entered my life through NPR.  Scott Simon of Weekend Edition Saturday has a long-running friendship with the writer, Daniel Pinkwater.  They entertain themselves and listeners by reading children's books together laughing as they go.   With four grandchildren (and on my own for suggestions),  I decided it was time to track down Pinkwater's books of which there are many.  Yetta is the most recent, a treasure even if you are not a chicken aficionado--lovable illustrations by Jill Pinkwater.  The text mostly in kids' book English plus much Yiddish, and a little Spanish too! 

Beautiful Yetta The Yiddish Chicken seems a timely addition to Roxie's (laundry helper on her June visit) poultry collection in New York; her family is about to move from the only home she has known for her first four years.  Tucked into its quirky, child oriented text about a lost chicken who lands in an unknown place is a message.  The book's flap, explains:

"Moving from city to country...appearing different from others, or adjusting to change...Jewish tradition teaches how we are to treat newcomers....From the Torah, 'The strangers who sojourn with you shall be to you as the natives among you and you shall love them as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.' "

Yetta, Roxie, and I want you to join us in hope that rises above and beyond what happens today.  I close my eyes and remember a conference in 1964.  Martin Luther King speaks of his dream to New York City teachers.  We rise to our feet; we are true believers.

Too Far North for Our Attention?

On June 27, Hattie's Web posted a powerful You Tube clip.  I do not usually sit  through an eight minute online video.  But three days later, when Roxie and her family had just returned to New York, I  slowed down enough to watch/listen to Naomi Klein in an interview on  Amy Goodman's  Democracy Now program.

Klein illuminated the background on the police reaction to demonstrators at the recent  G20 summit in Toronto.  Canada, our always low-key neighbor with liberal politics, now has  a very conservative prime minister.  Like here, seismic changes are happening to the north.   Were you puzzled about the police shift from their initial no-reaction to over-reaction?  She explains the convoluted situation.

Next, in response to a question from Goodman, Klein connects the Gulf oil crisis with G20 inaction. I hope you will watch.  It would be transformative, as in the universe shifting, if more people could watch/listen to more thoughtful political commentators.  Women speaking instead of the ubiquitous men in dark suits.

FEMINISM...Hers & Mine

Elena Kagan, old enough to be my granddaughter, sat before this daunting crowd of Senators and media and held her own.  Personable, engaging.  Yes, that's what I have wanted. 

Would she self-describe as a feminist?  Don't care:  I know, she knows, and that's what counts.

Many women like me, political ones, the women who angst about the future of the planet, really  needed an American event that we could  feel good about this July, just before the fourth. 

Now I have had an excellent month.  Personally, it's been my actual granddaughter Roxie's visit; politically, the possibility of a  third woman on the Supreme Court. 

Roxie, the NYC girl, does Portland

It's her second trip here.  The last time Roxie and her parents (our son and daughter-in-law) were in Rose City their visit coincided with the birth of cousin Elianna.  Literally, the new baby arrived before her mom Rachel could get to the hospital.  Quite a scene.

Roxie's parents have made an effort to keep her memory of her now-moved grandparents up front, so she made a smooth transition to familiar old faces and furniture as soon as she arrived.

In her first week, she's been around the city-- painting in our apartment, eating in the Pearl Bakery (mounted police surprised us, provided a view out the windows).  Much playing with cousins.many thrilling rides on Portland's free trolley, another at a waterfront amusement park with Grandpa.

Today the cousins all go to the famous Rose Parade.  The SUN is shining, the sky is very blue after Roxie's introduction to the famous daily rains of the past week.

Thursday Ron and I had our own two-hour adventure--a hands-on breadmaking class, scheduled long before we knew when the New York group would arrive.  Held at Bob's Red Mill, [1500 grain-related recipes @ this link] a real mill, with an  excellent instructor, David Kobos, longtime coffee roaster.  David's avocation is baking bread, tweaking recipes he finds in out-of-print books.

   He also raises chickens --check out these gorgeous ones from his flock of 50.  A very popular class, we'd signed up early, thought it was a good way to celebrate Ron's  75th birthday.  Watching David is another old guy in the class...a trend? 

Talking afterwards we discovered  that David, besides all else, shares a background with us in teaching in 1960s public schools in New York City.  The time went by very quickly; all the chairs were filled but my picture was taken during a seven-minute break!  We had an enjoyable, energetic time, and learned new approaches to making bread.  We're going to try his Sourdough Rye recipe at home.

Good to be with someone around our age sharing his enthusiasms.  The student across the way from me had this one tatoo (she told me so) and agreed to have its picture taken.  Now that I have spiky haircut, could a tiny tatoo be in my future....I might move more toward "Portlandness" with, like her,  just one.

It's very special  to have all our family in the same place. We're grateful to Nick and Leanne for making the trip and taking three weeks out of busy NYC lives.  Last night Rachel put together Ron's strawberry historical (another story) shortcake idea, everyone sang Happy Birthday in an informal, kitchen celebration of his 75th. Tomorrow is Zach's 8th birthday.  We're  very lucky old people!

Roxie's Hippo and Healthcare Reform

What did you do yesterday while Congress dragged it out?  Stretching a metaphor, I  have been malingering like them by not finishing this knit toy for Roxie, our NYC granddaughter. 

By late December (which issue was the Senate on then?), all the separate pieces of the hippo had been completed.  Another  Susan B.  Anderson pattern in her itty-bitty toys book (something new after making two of her chickens).   Worked well with yarn from my over-large stash.  Tricky to knit the body as it narrowed down with few stitches left on the needles.  (This was November '09...had we lost CHOICE in the House?)

For the second time I used a rubber ball to weight the body.  Hippo is very solid as a result.  This is a substitute for poly pellets when making a toy for young children.

Carried it to North Carolina at Christmas when we last saw Roxie, sure I'd finish it then.  No...  not enough light, too cold--the very sort of lame excuses our congressional reps have been using to waste the taxes we pay them with this endless slog. 

Sunday, March 21, 2010, was so possibly auspicious, that I made my move.   In the morning and early afternoon I watched the proceedings (inside and outside, some more inspirational than others) on television and did embroidery on the hippo's face.  Not great but okay.  Ear attachment went better.

Dinner was at Rachel's, our daughter, where Judy, the other grandma, is visiting from Idaho.  Rachel kept us up with progress in D.C. on her Blackberry (no television here).

Back home to finish the hippo and hope that Congress  and I would both end before midnight.  That actually happened thanks to the determination of many, especially women, thank you.  Several are pictured here.

Nancy Pelosi deserves much more admiration that we have given her lately.  We also are reminded that the  sensible Democrats are the true picture of this country--every geographic direction, all colors and shapes, even a couple of southerners!

Checking email before bed, there was a request to support two women running races against blue dog Dems.  Five dollars each:  I could do that...you can do that!

Super Bawl* Sunday: Ads a Feminist Could Support

Much chatter* about this year's TV ads accompanying today's football event, the yearly display of testosterone with accompanying rise in spouse abuse.  Women's Media Center has coordinated shout-outs to  CBS to dump the ad.  And been ignored.  Everything more you'd want to know appears in the blog,  The Reclusive Leftist.  She rightly nails patriarchy as the true source of the problem.

For image, I offer one  saved on my desktop for a couple of years--a poster on bus kiosk around New York City.   I'd support variations on it year round.  Living closer to the ground, so to speak, these days in Portland, Oregon,  I now start the day with the  local Oregonian delivered to my door in contrast to the national NY Times (read later when picked up at the front desk of my retirement community).

Locally Portland would seem to harbour more women abusers than back east (I doubt this) because the "small" incidents here are reported by the media.   In NYC only prominent men receive notice by journalists.  Coast to coast, however, they are always lightly punished. 

Writing to promote the "Geezers' Crusade" , David Brooks on the Op-Ed page of the Times, wants us to do more on behalf of younger people.  Would he support a movement by older people that demands  more visible signs of respect for women in every American city--bold ones like this poster? 

Could it happen in  your city?

Roxie at the beach in winter

This was the second winter that we thought we'd go some place warmer than where we lived.  Last year it was traveling from NYC  to Portland for December and January.  We were treated to 19 inches of snow.  But had a good time and found Terwilliger Plaza, the retirement community where we've relocated.

This December, Leanne, our daughter-in-law in New York, had an idea for us to meet up in her home state, North Carolina.  Her uncle gave us the keys to a beautiful house he owns at Wrightsville Beach.  Surely that would be milder than our new home in Portland.  Not exactly. It was wonderfully sunny the week we were there but  very cold and windy.

Roxie, our granddaughter was unfazed by the climate while I'm wrapped up in just about every piece of clothing in my suitcase.

We enjoyed connecting with Leanne's extended family who put together a great birthday party for Roxie's third.  had some great oysters, celebrated Roxie's birthday #3--including a castle-cake baked by Leanne's sister.

Our presents for her were a sweater set from wool spun by Ron.  He knitted the hat; the two of us made the cardigan.

Doing this was a test of our marriage since our knitting styles are very different. Ron surprised me by announcing when we were finished that we ought to do it again!  That's a possibility--maybe a sweater for Elianna in Portland, our youngest grandchild.

We ate some great seafood, a broiled flounder was my favorite, along with the view from Oceana, a  restaurant nearby at the end of Wrightsville Beach.  (Roxie with her Princess cellphone appears to be deciding on her entree.)  Our son Nick and Ron got lost in fresh oysters a couple of times.

Seeing Roxie again was a treat; she has grown since we saw her last summer before we left New York for Portland.  Distance grandparenting will always be a challenge.

And now I have knit chickens...

A few weeks ago, I went back to Close Knit, a favorite yarn shop here.  Last winter I bought Noro yarn and pattern there to make this vest;  finished when we returned to New York.  One of my more successful yarn projects.  It  helped that there was an already-knit version I could try on  to check out the fit. 

Knitting chickens, representations of them not the actual bird, has moved  along my plan to knit kids' toys.   First,  a yellow Polka-Dot Chicken from Susan B. Anderson's "Itty-Bitty Nursery."  I was going to give this to Zoe but decided to keep it.

I rationalized that her baby sister might tear it  and get into this bag of  beads used to weight the bottom.  Zoe shares my fondness for chickens,  chases  uncaged ones resident in the nearby schoolyard. Hope  they  make it through the winter.

Because she's partial to dots, I added them to another  Susan B. Anderson pattern for a striped chicken.  And produced this larger hen for her to take home.  On visits with us, she plays with the smaller one. Clara is the name she gave to  both.  Sounds  old-fashioned from a modern little girl.

 
Sent off this sweater for Roxie's Purple Bear that I made in August, just before we left NYC. I've started another animal for her,  a Hippo from Susan B. Anderson's new book, itty-bitty toys.  Did Susan and I meet at Knitty City?  I have a signed copy of the other Itty-Bitty. She is a very inventive designer who blogs here.

Feeling quite righteous because I'm only using yarn from my stash for these projects.   Found more funky chick patterns at Ravelry--that comes after the Hippo and another vest for myself, this time with Ron's yarn.

Recalling my hen obsession while she was in Paris, Maxine Levinson at Knitty City sent me a photo she snapped of a poulet store.  I lost it and effort to retrieve it via Google led to a blog called Paris Breakfasts.  Discovered many sides of  chicken enthusiasm among the French.  Something little red hens everywhere are trying to tell us?

Starting to use her as my avatar.  Please note the beaded necklace.

Posting less than I'd like because we continue to have a busy time in Portland, O, with taking classes, finding intriguing lectures.  This week the Humanist Chaplain at Harvard came through to promote his book, "Good without God: what a billion nonreligious people do believe."    Saw Philip Glass' new opera,"Orphee" and liked the music.   A group  sat in the lobby doing live blogging.

More  boxes await attention.   Though I feel frustrated about my ability to influence national politics, there are local issues to work on.  Oregon, like California, has votes often on initiatives outside regular elections.

The outcome of Initiatives 66 and 67  will have profound effect on funding for schools and social services.  "YES" is the word for the  January 28 election. 

"Small Is Beautiful" in my everyday life

Last night we picked up our daughter and went to a downtown movie.  Last show, we were the only ones at Lloyd Center Mall to see "The Informant."  Curious film--glad for lack of violence or gratuitous sex--maybe I missed the point?  Afterwards,  realized I'd dropped my Ron-knit-hat and new gloves.

[Aside:  Minor challenge is adjusting to current Portland weather.  Thought cold times had arrived--wrong.]

Called the Mall this morning, got number for movie office.  "Wait a minute," the woman said, "let me look."  She returned, described my lost articles.  Later today I'll pick them up at the box office.  Meanwhile we had a brief and pleasant exchange about the oddness of being alone at the movies.

Oh, I am liking so much the scale of life here.  Take Sunday morning just passed.   Along with 17 others,

[Aside: Every now and then some of that much-advertised rain appears]

I scribbled away for two hours at a Community Writing Workshop at HOT LIPS Pizza on Hawthorne.  Write Around Portland puts these on to give new and not-so writers the "experience of the transformative power of writing in community."  Very intergenerational--17 on up, one other grandmother, other recent transplants.

[Aside:  Hot Lips' pizza has been a favorite since our family settled nearby...delicious Pear Soda, a new addition...and the jams.  Website text on how they came to add these by accident rather than corporate plan is my notion of  modern Portland-style, as contrasted with old-fashioned.  Again, more later.]

Why the workshop, I hope you ask.  Need a jump start on writing in general plus a push to working more on  my plays about life among the not-so-old  as we get more so. Preferring "old" lately as adjective and noun.

[Aside:  The WAP session was a push.  More came from unpacking another book box (endless), finding books of ten-minute plays.  More later.]

In synch with E.F. Schumacher and the beauty of "small,"  decided to get rid of many more books.  Reading Fran Johns' postings on the True/Slant blog, listening to children of the old talking about the burden of parents' wish for them to receive their "stuff," resonated.  Okay, they really, really live in the here-and-now--a thing or two from Mom and Dad's pile and that's it.

  [Aside:  Our son-in-law cherishes his grandfather's college football helmet, our daughter dresses her children in sweaters I knit for her--and saved.  My daughter-in-law in New York took on this blue baby dress of mine.]

Keeping the flame of  Schumacher alive is a society with a number of programs,  and a blog.  Good ideas do not go out of style.

 

The Sad Part of Leaving New York

It's all about the people we love and leave--till we come together again in the City or Portland.  Our "distance grandparenting" shifts coasts with our move.  We've had many good times with Roxie and her parents in our last days in New York.

This photo is a favorite of mine from a delightful  Sunday we enjoyed last winter in Dumbo, under the Brooklyn Bridge.