Moody tides...

Fun to put together this little piece of art for Photo Art Friday
this week.  We are asked to write a 7 word sentence that describes our life experience in 
relation to our art or craft..how we became who we are.  And then we must create photo art to illustrate that sentence.  I knew right away what I wanted to do; of course 
it had to include the ocean.  



Without going into a lot of detail, I feel life has coddled me, 
tested me, changed me, molded my talents to the point where they are reaching their 
peak in my (eek) senior years.  True for all of us...as the sand and waves beat the seashore over time,  rocks, shells, sand dollars are smoothed to reveal their true beauty, diamonds their shine.  When discovered 
by human hands, they are treasures with 
ridges and buffed sides, not perfect, but fresh, original, unique.   

If one has natural abilities, all the better, as they will get 
 ahead in life using those skills.  For a lot of us it's about re-discovering creative outlets where 
before there were too many restrictions or other obstacles.  So, like my mother who tried all kinds of vetures later in life after raising four children, I am an
 amateur.  Some of the soaps she created looked like rocks, the Wise Men she made for Christmas
 out of burlap, plaster of paris, pieces of felt and sequins were hilarious  ;-)

 She painted birch trees almost like Grandma Moses and made 
a needlepoint tapestry of animals in a forest, the bunny much larger than the bear and the
 scale of the scene was, well, interesting.  She was a great Girl Scout leader, so we  made all kinds of crafts that she taught us...unusual ones.  She was an avid reader, with a few artists on her side of the family tree. She tried her hand at writing poetry and probably would have been a great photographer had she the technology of today.

So, here I am, like her, finding pleasure in dabbling in 
small projects that might be appreciated by another, or not.  A talent I once wanted to pursue involved a desire to be a doctor + interpreter and work with Albert Schweitzer, but I won't go on....
Have a great weekend!

Ice cream in the park with Ned...

Back in the 1950's, when we visited my grandparents in Portland, we always took a trip to the zoo. I remember it being very gloomy then - high, dark concrete caves,  roaring echoes from the cages of lions and screaming monkeys and the noisy aviary..sounds that haunted me as a child.  The main attraction was the baby elephant. More pleasantly, 

we loved watching the traditional Rose Parade in June.  Grandpa arrived ahead of us very early and saved seats for us by placing old blankets on the curb in front of the library.  He had a thermos of hot coffee and waited for us.  Another fond memory we have is of riding the old elevators in the vintage Meir & Frank department store, with its bars and cords and attendants in uniform clicking a bell for each floor reached.  Our first visits with Santa were there, as were wonderful moving Christmas displays  in the windows during the holidays.  

But my favorite memory is of our walks to the Portland Park Blocks to feed the pigeons.  We passed the nunnery where young ladies ran with their black sails flying behind them on their way to class.  I remember grandpa buying us triple-decker licorice ice cream cones that eventually melted down the wrist if eaten too slowly.  We strolled down the main walkway, through the land marked trees, many park benches and ornamental rows of roses.  Although there were over 20 blocks created by the original founders, there are now 12 remaining.  We encountered elderly persons hunched on a bench (were they homeless?),  high statues of Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt to admire.  


Hundreds of pigeons awaited us, for we carried  loaves of stale bread to feed them.  Rain or shine, we loved to listen to his stories on those walks with our grandfather. We loved to drink from the bubbly old water fountain. He talked about working hard for a living, was friendly to all and always had a joke to tell.  He worked in a pharmaceutical company since before the Great Depression, had been to China once in his youth, belonged to the army in WW I.  He wrote pithy comments to the local newspaper columnists which generated humorous responses...about the local baseball team, politics, or run of the mill events.  He sent his jokes to Readers' Digest and I believe a few were accepted.  My mother and aunt's grade school and Lincoln High School were adjacent to the park blocks.  The park is surrounded by beautiful old Italian style mansions and old churches.

Now the Southwest part of Portland is full of new high tech  and entrepreneurial businesses as well as new restaurants and shops.  Students from Portland State College spend time in the park blocks on warmer days...still the home of the pigeons and squirrels.  However, where my grandparents house once stood, as well as local grocery and other small merchants, now exists a freeway that took a lot of the old neighborhood away for good.  But the park blocks are still there.  The next time I visit downtown Portland I will again walk those blocks and be taken back to those times we spent with our grandfather.  But I doubt anyplace there serves licorice ice creams cones anymore.  I will let you know.  Kathy