a little red hen

She Perseverates: Elderblogger and Knitter

I really, really wanted to do this.  Get this black survey badge onto the lefthand column. 

Oh, I spent a lot of time at it.  Had tried this sort of thing  with my award for blogging and the important red one.  Even with step-by-step instructions from Ronni Bennett, who developed the survey, I could not make it happen.  And I think important data will emerge from it.  The results, a window into who we are and how we relate to this technology, will appear at her site, Time Goes By.    

Creative, be creative, my nudging voice said.  My solutions as a late-bloomer in blogland, are two choices for viewers of a little red hen.  Readers of elderblogs as well as elderbloggers themselves are urged to click on this link ELDERBLOG SURVEY: May One deadline. If you put it off till closer to the deadline--though I'd appreciate if you did it now--scroll to the "Websites" section in the left hand column and click on the same words to get to the survey.   Please tell Ronni that I sent you.

Perseveration [continuation of something... usually to an exceptional degree or beyond a desired point] I know well.  Following knitting patterns also offers me endless opportunities. 

Because the instructions for this adorable sweater were not, the chicken is off to the side rather than in the middle.  I began a creative solution by knitting small yellow eggs that I planned to sew under the hen's rump-- right where Roxie holds the bagel.

"Never mind," my son said, "We'll take it as is."  So, Marianne, at Busha Full of Grace (younger Elderblogger who I hope will do the survey) here's what I finished before the left hand break.  I'm onto another garment, slowed down by repetitve stress in right hand. 

And yet,  I perseverate--with blogging and knitting--to the distress of the hand therapist who is not a devotee of either one.    

Roxie Discovers Hats and Mirrors

"Would it fit Roxie?"     My daughter-in-law's question. I was talking about the small collection of my own baby clothes--one dress, two overalls, a slip, a hat--that I'd recently washed.   Should I photograph them, transform them into an artful statement?

Her question was unexpected, more personal.  Roxie was now too grown for the blue lawn dress.  After 70 years, it's too worn for my vibrant granddaugher.  I would try my baby hat.

In January, she'd allow the hat to entertain her on her grandfather's head, on a doll.  It was a few weeks past her first birthday. Roxie's primary focus was steps between closely placed pieces of furniture.

By this month, she has moved ahead to walking, even running.

As a lark, I put on  this  little black hat as Ron held her.  She did not take it off!  Where would this lead?  A game perhaps.  I offered her Grandma's hat.

Here was an idea that literally had legs; she hurried to the full length mirror in the next room to observe herself.  Roxie had moved to the next level of consciousness:  fashion by hat,  a delightful game for the three of us.

Latest sweater made for her, hen of course.  Charming pattern from Amy Bahrt's book, "Creature Comforts", could have been easier to follow.  Classic Elite's "Bazic" wool, very nice to work with on #7 needles.  Yes, highly impractical to make a white sweater for a one-year-old.  I get carried away (link to lyrics from 1944 musical, "On the Town").

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Hat tip to Eduardo Porter who writing in today's New York Times about the huge sums that will be needed to arrest global warming :

"People often sacrifice the future to the present.  We may love our children and grandchildren.  But since they can't vote, we stiff them in the public sphere...The best case for bold action now is that it provides insurance against the chance of an unfathomably grim future...Averting that...is worth quite a lot of investment today."

Read it all in, "Are the Grandkids Worth the Money?"

My Own "Third Place," a NYC Yarn Store, #1

VALENTINE'S DAY is almost upon us. Consider a different kind of gift.

At Knitty City, Manhattan's least-advertised, yet very popular yarn store, a curious recycled object adorns a mannequin in the window.

Once inside, a visitor sees "Knit a Condom Amulet," a new exhibit of my three-year old project at my LYS (local yarn store).  Imagine, a knitting store that promotes Safe Sex for V-Day. [click blue condom at left-- Free patterns for 7 amulets.]

Not your usual knit store,   "community center with beautiful wares" is more accurate.

My "third place" is how I see it.  Usually that means the space between the first space, home and the second, work.  From the 1920s to 60s, married women who did not work outside their homes often found community in local knit stores.   "Beauty shops" also functioned as important gathering places for talk among women; some still do.

Libraries?  They fit the idea of being "free and open to the public," the strictest definition of third places but discourage verbal exchange.  In some boroughs of New York, libraries have community rooms for organized groups to meet.  It is not a concept valued at higher administrative level and depends on a yarn-crazed librarian in a local branch.

Starbucks?  Promoted themselves as a third place in the beginning.  It was in a nearby one that the original UWS (upper west side) knit circle began in 2002--and continues in another Starbucks at 87th and Columbus.  The difference is that Knitty City is open six days a week and is entirety about craft.

At the front of the shop I've photographed two women (left) who are designers.  Listening to them opens my world to the working world of freelance design.    Phyllis barely notices Lennie,  the dog, on her lap.  Once you sit in that big, comfortable  chair, you get a lap dog; not a problem for this customer's son checking his cell.          

Periodically other dogs are walked in, but Lennie is a regular.  He belongs to Gail, seen here labeling new yarn stock, one of several staff who answer ANY how-to yarn question-- within reason.  We worked together in 2006 to put up my last show here, This Dirt Museum Redux, to raise awareness about kitchen composting through knit red wiggler worms.

Between knitting instruction with customers, Maxine Levinson (in gray sweater) provided ongoing advise and consent to the Safe Sex exhibit. She created several inspired names for amulets and edited the wall text.  Her own Condom Amulet added a new style in her highly functional, "Beltway," which is color-coordinated with New York City's famous 2007 condom design.

As we were finishing, Bert Rachel Freed, who teaches weave and bead crochet classes, came by with "A Night on the Town," a sparkly and elegant addition.

Would you add one?  We're glad to put it up on the wall with its title and your name. 

      

Super Tuesday: 21st Century Possibilities

Enormous changes in my lifetime.

What better reflection of that than this four-language sign near my polling place?

As others await to see who "won" between Clinton and Obama, I celebrate where this idealistic and flawed country has moved.   From celebrating white women's "progress" in the 1940s--which brought us to Hillary Clinton running for president.

And these courageous African-American women in Georgia, politicking before the 19th amendment was passed, are among the major players who have brought Barack Obama to try for the same prize.

This is the triumph of affirmative action.  It's what Ron and I grew up with in immigrant families.  These values were absorbed by our children whom we admire as they are passed on to grandchildren.

Dark voices will make every effort to get our attention in the coming year, to speak to our fears of difference and change.  They will try to divide us.  For those of us who worked toward the goal of true democracy, it's time to step aside and listen.

Elders can support the move forward by those younger.  Let's bring along the best from the 20th and join hands in the 21st century.  [click on images to enlarge] 

60 On Up, Lillian Rubin's Straight Talk on LATER Aging

The only picture in this book is on the cover.  See?  Down at the lower left is the author--Lillian Rubin herself.  An 80-plus sociologist and psychotherapist, her subtitle is "the truth about aging."  The "truth" is mostly geared to those who are white, middle-class, and educated   Not everyone.

That's fine with me.  Are you surprised?  It would be very presumptious for Rubin to be take on the entire population over 60.  We need more voices to tell us what it's like to be a black man--middle-level, never-married who retired at 64 from a government job, for example.  His life and mine are miles apart.

Perhaps her book will inspire others, to write about aging after 60 from varyious perspectives-- race/class/gender identity.  Some experiences will be similar.  All of us past experiencing these years move uncertainly in a swiftly changing world with few guidelines. 

While she includes problems currently discussed frequently in the media--aging children caring for their parents-- her own anger when her difficult, 85 year old mother on the opposite coast resisted the move to an assisted-living facility.   Rubin was in her late sixties.   She notes:

By the time the leading edge of the baby boomers reaches their seventies and eighties, they'll have 100-year-old parents to deal with...

Though the book is filled with the reality we know--the consequences of often roleless and longer life spans, the loss of social networks--I enjoyed reading it. It was as if a conversation was going on between us.

A sociologist and psychotherapist, Rubin speaks of "age grading" where people separate themselves by age.  My own efforts to point this out among peers is always met with resistance.  Many have commented on the discomfort felt by pre-retirement individuals toward colleagues who have left the work force.  In an ageist culture the next division is the old vis a vis the older.  Personally I feel it in my seventies from women in their sixties.  I sense its their fear about the future.  Very understandable with so much media emphasis on bad news about the elderly.

Rubin is an insightful writer whose articles on race, class, gun control (to name a few) continue to appear in Dissent magazine.  Missing for me in 60 on Up were ideas for how--or if--those over 60 might bring about change for themselves.  Personally she did it by starting to paint after 70.  Would she like my workshop idea, "Blogs and Zines for Geezers" as a way toward both agency and creativity?

Pleased her photo was on the cover--only wish it had been larger.  [Thanks to bloggers Ronni Bennett and Cowtown Pattie for the link to an hour-long interview with Lillian Rubin where she mentioned that her publisher would not put "80" in the title because "...people would not buy it."  More provocative issues like sex and unconditional love are addressed.  Some of her ideas on living a long life surprised me--a good thing!]

Grandson Packs His Bag & A Little Yarn

Before our recent trip to Portland, Zach, our 5 year-old grandson, had talked about staying overnight with us.  Would it happen?  Here he is, bag packed by himself, shopping bag filled with crayons.

The first visit was on a weekend; the second, a school day.  We delivered him to kindergarten--with the 30 other kids.  Sunnyside, such a 1930s name, is a block away from his home, newly reformulated as an environmental school. 

Afterschool we met up with his mother and sister Zoe (note the green rain boots)  at the "Sunnyside Indoor Play Space and Swap Shop" in a nearby Methodist church.

This comfortable setting-- rooms for all ages of children, arts and crafts, and a stage-- meets a need especially acute in rainy Portland.  It was developed over the past summer by 90 families and is open to families outside the neighborhood.  A co-op, it has a small monthly fee, and every family member takes on a job to keep the space running well.

Once I sat down to knit, this young woman came over to for advice on her purl stitch. A member-mom has been teaching beginning knitting; there's donated yarn and needles in one of the rooms.  My daughter surprised me by picking it up again!

Even without the wetness issue, I cannot imagine a community that would not enjoy something similar.  It would have been wonderful when our children were young.  These kinds of community-developed were going on in Baltimore in the 1970s though only among at-home moms.

There's a mix of working mothers plus mothers and fathers who work at home--many in the tech industry--even nannies.  All enjoy the generous hours-- Monday through Saturday 8 a.m. to 8 p.m.  Here's the darling website, with more details, to share with someone you know in Portland.

Rain in Spain No Match for Portland

Every day a new storm off the Pacific.  Visitors like us can be heard throughout the city, "Look, a blue sky.  Oh, it's gone!"  No matter.  Great times with our 5 year old grandson--two sleepovers with us--many stories. 

Knitting FOs include two kinds of cats...Condom Amulet entered in local one-skein competition.  Images and more after January 13.

Tooling Around Queens

Yes, we are very Manhattan centric, parochial big city dwellers who travel mostly within the Big Apple's borders  This year though,   the borough of Queens has become a regular destination with Roxie's arrival last January.  (Picture from a couple of months ago when I squatted to photograph on her level and fell over!  But isn't it a cute photo?)

As we strolled Roxie past the Kew Gardens movie house (first-run features, no less), we bumped into one of Ron's weaving classmates.  We responded to her invitation to stop by later and were treated to a glass of wine in her large apartment with its glamorous 1920s lobby.

Proof of how provincial I am, my first thought was that this grand and elegant lobby resembled ones I'd seen on the upper west side's Riverside Drive and West End Avenue.  But Queens, who knew?

When it was time to move on to dinner, we drove along Steninway Street in Astoria.  I was hoping to see an Egyptian restaurant that I'd read about in the book, Crossing the Boulevard.  Nothing looked quite right, the name escaped me.  We reached the end of Steinway with an Italian restaurant on the corner.

You need to know that my least favorite place to eat anywhere is an unknown Italian restaurant.  But it was late, we'd try this tiny place.  Valverde with six tables had terrific food!  Ron felt kind of smug since he is alway ready to go into an Italian place; I have a low tolerance around most tomato sauces.    Great service, good al dente pasta, ricotta cheesecake to die for.  Grownup restaurant.  Read the reviews in CHOWHOUND, a foodie blog.  Be prepared for full range of comments--thoughtful to beyond cranky--very New York.

Reading Blogging in Paris has made me more conscious about meanings behind common expressions.  Not that I often use "tooling around" to describe poking about here and there.  At Google, of course, I discovered "Take Our Word for It."  Etymological questions are dealt with beneath the sign of a moving typewriter (indicating that curiosity about language may be going the way of the...but let's not go there).  Travel in a vehicle in the early 19th century by driving a team of horses is their connection for the verb "tool."  Guess that's what we were doing. 

Usually we drive to Queens but every now and then it seems a good idea "to train."  Here's an accurate representation of evening rush hour on the LIRR, according to Wikipedia, "busiest commuter railroad in North America."  Lucky us, we got seats with two daily travelers.

When Ron told them we had retired to New York, the man next to me became apoplectic.  He first refused to believe it, then allowed that it might be possible for New York to be preferable to our former location--Baltimore.   We'd found the true provincial New Yorker who grudgingly traveled to "the City" (how Manhattan is referred to by longtime residents of the outer boroughs) for his job, believed he had deprived his now-grown child by raising him in Queens.  I imagine him at work the next day, "Listen, I met this insane old couple on the train..."

An Unexpected Family Day

We were concerned that Roxie and her parents would get caught in long delays as they travelled  out of New York on Christmas Eve.  So it was quite a surprise to get a call this morning from Leanne that their flight had been cancelled by bad weather in the midwest.   

Making the best of it, they decided to take advantage of a clear, bright day by coming in to see the sights.

We met up for lunch at Ollie's Sichauan on West 42nd Street at Ninth Avenue.  On the trip downtown, I saw for the first time several walls of mosaic murals in the 8th Avenue subway at 42nd.  In writing this post, I learned its perfect title--Losing My Marbles.  Artist Lisa Dinhofer created it in 2003.  The link has a full length photo of this wall, one of three.  The online site, "SubwayArtGuide," is an illustrated catalog of 210 art works--mostly underground. Roxie would love the colors, clap her hands and probably try to eat them as she's doing here with the bamboo steam basket from our shrimp dumplings. 

It was a treat to be with her another time; it will be mid-January till we are all back in New York.  And then she will be one year old. 

Turkey This Year with Roxie

Previous Thanksgivings were often   in Portland, Oregon, with our daughter's family.  In this 2002 picture Nick, our son, has come from New Orleans where he lived at the time.  Zach is six months old, held by Scott, his father.  We were in the Portland kitchen, now dry unlike the previous year when the ceiling sprung a leak as we put the turkey in the oven.

Roxie, now 10 months, our local grandchild, is about to have her first taste of the bird.  Ron made the turkey in our kitchen in Manhattan.  My contribution, loaf of cornbread  baked in a long narrow pan.  A recipe that puts together cornmeal, wheat germ, sesame  seeds.  The picture is of the mini-loaf that we left at home.

Took our food and wine into the car for the drive to Queens.  Leanne, Roxie's mom, surprised us with a home-baked pie.  Very delicious with ingredients from their neighborhood health food store--organic crust and pumpkin  filling.  Tastier than ones we've had before. 

To save on dishwashing in their tiny kitchen, I brought along themed paper plates and napkins.  Enough in the package to use in Portland when we visit the two grandchildren and family out there for the month of January-- and duplicate the meal. 

We learned that it works better to take our food to them so that Roxie can roam around her usual environment.  Resisted at first, then we were pleased with how well it worked.  She did enjoy the turkey and cornbread-- new foods for her.

Snapped the threesome as we were about to leave--Roxie ready for another nap. Almost forgot...Nick made green beans and cranberry sauce, his part of the Thanksgiving co-op dinner.