WHAT IS AMERICA TO ME

These pictures highlight some of the wonderful human beings with whom I spent time at the WorldWide Marriage Convention and other human beings who have touched my life deeply

Abraham Lincoln, whose Gettysburg Address I memorized when I was in grade school and whose writing style I imitated for years; and Sojourner Truth, whose commitment to family, country, and God move me to get up and try again to be a real human being every day




















My friends in Taooma who have chosen to be close to me for years and have seen me through the ups and downs of my life in Grit City












New friends in California with whom I hope to share many, many hours learning together, crying together, helping each other, reaching out to others with compassion and joy.









New friends in Kenya, who shared a lot of laughter and wisdom with me at the Convention and with whom I hope to spend some time in the next two years in Kenya...
as I said to them, "I am the child of one of the LOST ONES who was stolen from our mother country many, many years ago."






And the wonderful artist, Paul Robeson, who in 1969, in Berkeley, California, first led me, as I listened to a Berkeley Public Library copy of him singing, "All Through The Night," moved me to tears and my long, hard journey along the road to self-knowledge and self-love took a most important step in the right direction.
Thank God for all artists and I humbly bow my head to the novelists and poets and actors and dancers and painters who have courageously revealed their African American souls to all who choose to let their eyes and ears and hearts be opened.



Enjoy Paul Robeson's wonderful rendition of "What is America To Me?"



If my mother were alive today, we would, once again, be shaking our heads as, looking back over the years of segregation in Texas, misunderstandings and tensions in the Northwest, heartbreak and surprise in this country, and saying, "No, no, we never thought we would see this day... only in America could this have happened."

Dear sisters and brothers, WHAT IS AMERICA TO YOU

Dancing Getting Grittier

I embarked on my second adult basic ballet lesson at the Jo Emery Ballet School last night. Right before the evening class, I was dealing with the frustration of my older child’s repeated meltdowns and the guilt of my younger flexible child who was not getting enough attention from me. To and from swimming lessons and errands, my allergies raging and face itching, the day ended with me hoisting in our crab pot out of Commencement Bay. We raced home to deal with the crab, settle the kids, eat dinner, and get me to ballet. In all the crab excitement, I forgot to eat dinner. So, with hubby and son steaming the crab, I grabbed my daughter and out the door we fly down South 56th to the studio on South Washington Street.

Despite my rushed pace, I did manage to scavenger together more of a dance “look.” I had on layered tanks and cropped leggings. I was horrified to realize that my clothes had prominent grease stains on them, but didn't have time to change. My hair was literally tied in a knot behind my head. I was also sporting a large, lumpy, green-yellow bruise/contusion on my left shin, courtesy of an earlier week fall at Pt. Defiance’s Owen’s beach on a METAL staircase in a dress. I slipped and slammed my left shin so hard that I cried and thought I was going to vomit. Never mind that my underwear was exposed to the other beach goers and the contusion swelled to the size of a softball.

Obviously, I need ballet class. A little “grace” is necessary for my health!

To my pleasant surprise, there were more folks there for their health and well being at class: A couple of attractive twenty-somethings, some of the ballroom students, and a gymnast/dancer/biologist. They were nice and extraordinary dancers in confident dance clothes. I looked (and smelled) like a fishmonger. Oh well.

But I LOVED the barre warm-ups. In fact, I wish we could do that the whole time. I like the slow pace and the movements.

Then we moved to the floor. I vowed this time to watch carefully and copy the other dancers. My feet, beat, left/right, and rhythm was off most times. So, Jo shouted this out to the class: “Move with the music. Feel the music!” Something clicked! I need to stop “looking” and start “listening” and “feeling.” When I let myself go, I actually would get a few steps right! Jo played The Dave Brubeck Quartet’s “Take Five” one of my favorite jazz numbers. So, I did the imperfect and odd Take Five jig, but I was having fun. It also helped to have my daughter give me a thumb’s up for the effort! I told Erin I was so mesmerized by the other more experienced dancers. Erin said, “But Mom, you’re a dancer, too; you just need more practice!”

Who would have thought I’d learn all these valuable life lessons from a ballet session in the heart of Grit City?

So, after class, I went home to an explosion of pots and pans in my kitchen, a cold beer, fresh crab meat, a sense of fun, and a little dose of dancing magic.

Here’s “Take Five” for your listening enjoyment.

Mad Jack's dream vaporized

Gone as swiftly and surely as a vanishing, vaporous cloud of liquid nitrogen fog...

Mad Jack's Ice Cream Concoctions has vanished, vaporized into thin air.

If you never visited Mad Jack's Ice Cream Concoctions until now, it's too late.

Mad Jack (whose real name is George) had a vision and a dream. He also has a wife and four or five kids to support. He poured his heart and soul into the custom ice cream business and his family supported him 100% in the effort through thick and thin, but almost certainly through a lot more thin than thick.

Mad Jack's premise revolved around a scientific atmosphere complete with a periodic table of the elements on the wall, some test tubes, science magazines and books. The centerpiece was the bizarre contraption that actually created each ice cream order on-site, on-demand. Eventually two of the machines were in operation to meet the demand.

It's tough to make it as a small business. Part of the dream was to have a place where local kids could even come and hang out and be safe and off the streets even after the movie theatres nearby closed.

The ice cream was the purest form of yumminess: pure cream, sugar, and whatever flavorings or "elements" you chose to go in your custom concoction. In addition to the actual scientific periodic chart of all of the known elements, Jack's had a chalkboard mounted high up on the wall with an almost endless list of possible combinations of 'elements' (flavors/flavorings) that could be combined to customize each order.

The uniqueness of Mad Jack's was that every dish or cone of ice cream was made from scratch, yes, the ice cream itself was made from scratch, on the spot, when you ordered it. So it took several minutes to turn out each order using massive commercial mixtures custom fitted with hoses that injected liquid nitrogen into the blends freezing them solid almost instantly. It was quite a showy affair to watch. Mad Jack was great with people and loved to put on a show and engage in real entertainment -- all for the price of a (well, yes it was pricey) cone or sundae.

Even though the location in Sunrise Center on Mildred Street near Tacoma Community College would seem like a good one for traffic, the unique draw of seeing the mad scientist in a lab coat turning liquid cream into ice cream in seconds in a great flourish and cloud of vapor probably did not bode well for long-term or repeat customers.

• It was the best ice cream around
• It was also the priciest ice cream around (understandably)

Sadly, across the street McDonald's offered a reliable old standby sundae for $1. So it was surely tough to compete for repeat business. If Mad Jack's could have been located near an amusement park or a theme park where there would be lots of tourists and one-time visitors, the business would have had more of a chance. But it is not that Mad Jack did not give it his all.

Nothing but happy memories and best wishes for George and his entire family. So long, to Mad Jack's Ice Cream Concoctions...

**4th of July Lunch at the Greenwater Community Center**

Come to the Greenwater Community Center for a Great 4th of July Lunch.

Starting at noon, we’ll have hand formed hamburgers, hot dogs, home made salads, and more for only $10 for adults, $4 for kids. We’ll also have several other treats.

Enjoy a fun afternoon trip into the woods, stop by the Interpretive Center at Federation Forest State Park, take a hike along one of our spectacular forest or river trails. Flowers are exploding in color and the scents of summer. Go for a bike ride along the side roads, or head up to Mt. Rainier National Park. Check out the shops in Greenwater and help the Greenwater Community Center by having lunch with us. The Community Center has a large fenced play area for kids.

All proceeds go to help support the all volunteer Greenwater Community Center

WORLD WIDE MARRIAGE ENCOUNTER--1.. COUPLE POWER

Convention 2008, Ontario, California...
My reason for joining the Encounter Movement was re-enforced and expanded:when husbands and wives choose to put their love for each other daily and visibly as first priority, their families, friends, and associates benefit immeasureably. We see that loving another person unconditionally is the greatest gift life has to offer.



An eighty-two year old friend of mine, now a widow, often tells me that she loved her husband very, very much. At the same time they went through some very hard times... he was a loyal, quiet man, who provided well for her and their children. At the same time he kept so much of himself... his feelings and hopes inside of himself.
I tease her often, saying wouldn't it be great to have some one you really cared about to while away the cold, evening nights. "Once was enough," she often responds, "I'm enjoying my independence now.

There were tough times they moved through in their relationship... hurt feelings, disappointments... when they distanced themselves from each other-- often masking their pain in either cutting remarks or silence.



I celebrate the determination and loyalty that led them to choose to stay together... cutting remarks and silence have frequently led me to turn away from people whom I had chosen as friends. (And I have turned a number of folks off because my loose lips have led to the end of a number of wonderful relationships.

Marriage Encounter offers ways that couples can work through their hurts and fears and get to know and love each other even more. I have listened to many stories and seen wonderful moments:



A mature couple publicly sharing their closeness---




Couples delighting in dancing together--











Let me end with this video of the couples dancing, during one of the breaks, at the convention: LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL, ISN'T IT?

Ooh-la...Cherries!

I was in Heaven, our first summer in the Aerie. If I wasn't on the back deck watching bald eagle antics, you could find me under the cherry tree popping dark and sweet fuit into my open mouth like an impatient baby bird. I loved the light filtering through the leaves and the feel of its bark under my hand.

Last summer after the cool, wet spring the cherries didn't make it. Well, let me amend that...any cherries that did make it were snarfled by our nesting ravens before I could get there. I soothed my hurt feelings by paying the extra for the mouth-watering Mt. Rainier cherries. I was leery of their look, so pale and all, until the first time my taste buds made merry over them.

Cherries (the way Mama Gaia gives them) are such a favourite, though EVERYTHING either cherry-flavoured or EVERYTHING folks do to cherries do not "amuse bouche" at all...yuck. I'm sorry, the only thing that tastes like an enjoyable cherry to me...is a cherry!

So, this year worried me. That little flash of heat and then the Mama turned time backwards and our skies lowered with the temperatures. Oh no, not another year sans cherries after getting totally hooked...*whimper.*

Oh joy of joys! It's a little later than usual (well, so is the arrival of this year's fawns) but...WE HAVE CHERRIES! *Lorraine does happy dance we call the Edith Bunker Shuffle.* Oh yes, oh yes!

Now...we wait...we watch...we listen for the hard-edged whispers of ravens in the fir trees. I ready myself for this year's Olympic race for the cherries. Excuse me while I go do a little weight-training for my picking arm, keeping my eyes hungrily on the prize!

The Heart of the Home

This morning I went to the Seaview beach approach to walk on the beach with the dog. It’s the nearest to our house and the nearest to my grandparents’ summer home and where I played as a child. I was looking for some flotsam and jetsam to send to a dear person whom I’d very much just like to bundle up and bring to the sea, but who can’t be spared from home just now.

It’s misty this morning so let’s go inside instead of sitting on the porch. The front door to my house by the sea leads straight from the porch into the kitchen. It’s an unusual set up, but since the kitchen has always been the heart of every home I’ve made I guess it’s good to skip the formality of a sit in the front room and get straight to command central. Has it not always been thus since man figured out fire for cooking and heat, folks gathered around the fire for sustenance of one kind and another?

Our kitchen here is not only where the cooking is done, it is where puzzles are put together, games are played, and stories are told. It definitely is the nerve center of the house. To keep the little ones amused we have a little table and chairs for with two cupboards of doll tea things, crayons and coloring books. Something’s always cooking in our kitchen.

One time, when we’d lost track of my husband who was out kayaking on Willapa Bay, we sat around the kitchen table discussing which to call first, the Pacific County Sheriff or the Coast Guard in Astoria? We paced around the table and out onto the porch where my uncle stood watching in the direction from which he hoped to see Dave come while my father sat smoking at the kitchen table—the only time I ever let him smoke in my house.

Having a front door into the kitchen means keeping the place picked up and the dishes done. The first time we looked at this house with interest in buying, the kitchen was a monumental disaster. A plywood island was covered in dirty dishes, paper plates and left-overs. The sink was so full of dishes I understood why the family was using paper plates. A cardboard box filled with beach sand served as a cat box for their cats, but they had thoughtfully opened the front and back doors allowing a breeze to keep the worst of the stench down.

A front door into the kitchen means that the table is a magnet for things being brought into the house. When I am here alone I manage to keep it relatively clear. When the children come things fly through the air and land on the table. When friends come it groans over the weight of too much good food. The Thanksgivings and celebrations this kitchen has seen! And the door frame bears the pencil marks of my own growing youngest’ height and those of the grandchildren.

Where is the heart of your home? Does everyone gather in the family room around the boob-tube or do you gather at the table breaking bread and, as a dear friend likes to say, “Swapping lies.” We are not devoid of entertainment here.

While there is no regular television in our house we have a set for playing videos and DVDs and there are radios everywhere tuned to one of the excellent community radio stations coming from across the river. Books abound and I have lots of old time radio shows to listen to, but our kitchen is not just a place of sustenance for the body, but for the soul as well. Whether it is just my mother and myself or a whole crowd as there was last weekend, we are there in good times and in bad.

Well, I need to pack up my beach prizes and make a trip to the Post Office over on Lake Street. Thanks for stopping by.