Late Summer Pictorial

Seems like ages since I had fun putting some pictures on the blog, so come and walk with me on these warm late summer days.  We can watch the sun dance upon an incoming teal tide.

Most of the honeysuckle flowers have given way to bright red berries, but a few remain knotted with purple clematis on the side gate.

Blackberries are everywhere, in every stage from hard green knuckles to soft, sweet, dark pearls.  Huckleberries are just beginning to turn blue, making me think of my friend Trish's Huckleberry Buckle...mmmmmmm, yeah!  Apples are large and green, ripening for some autumn applesauce.  These are the glorious days, when friends drop by with squash and lettuce spilling from their arms, oh happy harvest!

I love to spend quiet mornings in the side "Buddha Garden," welcoming each day.  I chose flowers that were the colours of the Dalai Lama's robes, to honour the Buddha of Compassion.

Glorious evenings to enjoy, especially at the house of good friends on the west side, overlooking Case Inlet and the Olympic Mountains.  Enjoy these days in paradise!

A Birthday Gift

Friday, September 9, is my birthday. I had the privilege of leading my religious community in prayer today, the eight. Fifty years ago, on September 7, I first joined the Society of Jesus. Since I entered, Malcolm X, John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy have been cruelly killed.
In one of my classes I had the opportunity to meet Huey Newton. While I worked at Seattle University I attended a lecture given by Elridge Cleaver. I have visited the grave of Frederick Douglass. I have spoken to FBI men following an arson fire in Tacoma, Washington. I was targeted in Tacoma by a local hate group.
I have attended the funerals of my grandmother, uncle, stepfather, mother, and three of my closest women friends.
I have begun to consider my own dying. And this evening I had an opportunity,at the Mass, to talk about my wonderful grandmother. She wanted to be a nun, was sold to an African American minister who married her. She got away from him, married again, was abandoned by her husband. She and my mother took care of me and made sure I got to attend a very good high school and college.
I highlighted my grandmother's courage, prayerfulness, commitment to service, and love for God and all people.
She and my mother taught me how to love deeply and persistently. What a great gift they are to me.

A Most Precious Sunday Afternoon

The one thirty pm worship gathering at St. Leo's in Tacoma, hosted by Native Americans, is becoming one of my happiest moments. I enjoy feeling welcomed and accepted there. I value the sincerity, honesty, and affection. of the members of that Catholic group.
Many of them have seen very hard times and they continue to keep working to encourage other Native Americans and other human beings to live honestly and compassionately.
Father Pat Touhy, a member of the Society of Jesus, was the leader of worship. He is a creative, open, and loving human being. He is the beautiful man on the right in the picture.
The little child in the picture kep the Mass going, moving, talking... what a joy to be around such a beautiful person. His mom and dad are thoughtful and warm human beings.

I left the Mass that Sunday feeling refreshed. I am so very grateful.

Come to the Table

On Sunday, August 28^th the Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial in Washington D.C. was supposed to have been dedicated.  Though Hurricane Irene has delayed the event until sometime in September, this commercial’s invitation to, “Come to the table of brotherhood,” had been taken literally by my daughter Anna.  She requested our family come to the table together and that our conversation take on this ceremony and celebration.  So we gathered on that Sunday for a delicious dinner of pizza, fruit-salad, and peach crumble, all made by my son, on this late summer evening.

We enjoyed a wonderful conversation between two generations who had lived in New York, tasting the full flavour of a delicious American melting pot.  I raised my children, now adults, not to, “…judge by the colour of anyone’s skin, but by the content of their character,” after I was raised in a home of prejudice and assumed righteous order.  But it is never a matter of simple choice made, no further work necessary.

Silence is the biggest perpetrator of prejudice, so we must vow to keep this conversation going, with our selves and each other.  After my last post (the Japanese-American Exclusion Memorial Wall on Bainbridge) someone opined that the wartime incarceration of Japanese-Americans was for their protection.  Anna and I knew better and, because of conversations we were fortunate enough to be a part of, we could carry the conversation forward. 

When I asked someone to refrain from prejudicial jokes, I was informed it was certainly NOT prejudice…as long as that ethnicity was NOT in the room at the time.  Yeah…I’d laugh at the backwards logic (and assumption of anyone’s purely Caucasian family tree) but it’s chilling in its implication of NOT being invited to the table, and it’s sad to see the conversation broken down to righteous, chilled…silence.  Women of every ethnicity understand the slap of dismissal. 

All relationships require ongoing awareness, for growth, and we must realize prejudice is so subliminally stuck, for lack of conversations.  We separate by unnecessary ethnic description, by complicit silence at slurs and jokes.  We separate by not respectfully asking about each other’s lives, cultures and beliefs, by not listening to each other’s stories for the common thread of humanity.  We separate by not believing that everyone’s different story is what makes this country.

Dr. King, we’ve made some marvelous strides, with a lot of work, since you were taken from us.  There’s many a mile in this journey yet, but if we all gather at the table, Sir, we will give each other the nourishment to see your dream become America.

 

The Debt... A Study In Human Interaction

I enjoyed going to the Narrows Theatre and seeing "The Debt" Saturday afternoon.

I've decided (thank the good Lord, to get out more and see and feel and
enjoy life. For me, it's time to clown!!!

(If anyone knows where I can go and catch some live jazz in Tacoma, without a large cover charge, please let me know... I'm missing the music and the jazz loving folks a lot.)

The star in the film, Helen Mirren took me on a very important journey in this family. This was no either/or film... bad girls and good girls. No she choose to lead a violent life because she and her companions believed that, in the name of justice, they had to kidnap a medical doctor who had killed thousands of people in a prison camp during World War II...kidnap and conver up what they had done for years.

The questions I came home with is could I choose to live a life based on lies for a month, a year, many years and would I be willing to live with the consequences of telling the truth about my fears and failures.

The Debt is a beautifully put together film that, I am sure, will get you thinking. Anybody who has seen Debt, what do you think?

“Nidoto Nai Yoni” Let It Not Happen Again

Saturday, Aug. 6^th, it was my privilege to attend the dedication ceremony for Bainbridge Island’s Japanese-American Exclusion Memorial Wall. This tribute, a satellite of Minidoka Internment National Monument in Jerome Idaho, has been built on the site where 276 Americans of Japanese descent were forced to leave their homes and island lives on Bainbridge during WWII. Boarding a ferry, March 30^th 1942, escorted by soldiers with bayonets attached to their rifles, ultimately, these Nikkei were bound for internment camps within their own country. Executive Order #9066, signed by their own president, put law-abiding Americans into prison camps behind barbed-wire fences for duration of the war to end all wars.

It was fellow IYN blogger, Mizu Sugimura, who began my real education on this unsteady chapter in American history, with her passion for truth to be heard and wounds healed, so that America can move forward. Mizu’s personal essays, right here in our TNT cyber-neighbourhood, touched me to the core and made me want to learn how to, “Nidoto nai yoni.” Key Pen neighbour and friend, Jan Buday, shared more stories, increasing my understanding. Both strong women are open with their families’ history; both vibrant artists are invested in healing their country.

Jan told me last year about the Memorial Wall being built. Her husband, John Buday, a designer specializing in Timber-Framing, became Project Manager. He designed the gates and pavilion on the grounds of the memorial, as well as timber frame design of the interpretive center, meeting room and wooden upper-half of the wall. I believe it was a labour of love, love for his family, for his craft and for healing in his country.

The air was festive Saturday, with many old friends reuniting for the completed wall’s dedication. In front of a small stage by the entrance, were rows of reserved seats for attending survivors of the 276. Brightly coloured Origami cranes hung down each metal post, either side of the stage, more of them available on strings of three, for people to hang them next to names on the wall. Jan herself folded over a thousand cranes…close, it was estimated, to the number of people who were in attendance.

Standing at the side of the stage, I was delighted to be joined by Lucy Ota. I recognized her beautiful crane pin, made only for the exclusion survivors. She whispered, in the middle of the last speech, that she didn’t think she could have made it through such a crowd, to her reserved seat. Meaningful memories of heartfelt speeches, standing with Lucy, joining several hundred people in singing America The Beautiful; how did I get so lucky, to be present at the healing, honouring end of a near-seventy-year local wound in this country’s history? I felt quite overwhelmed by emotion.

Those of us covering Saturday’s dedication were allowed to make our way down to the wall first, splaying ourselves just beyond entry to photograph the survivors as they came through. Everyone applauded the procession as they made their way down the gravel path to the memorial. Red, white and blue ribbons tied across the archway waited to be cut by one hundred year-old, Fumiko Hayashida who, dressed in stylish forties garb, was subject of an iconic photograph from the exclusion, carrying her baby girl. Daughter Kayo held the ribbons up for her mother.

Silver-haired Elders laughed, sharing their stories and lives, “As kids we always had fun with our friends,” said Sally, who was nine years old when taken, “Lucy and I would fight like cats and dogs,” she said, giggling and poking at Lucy’s arm. Another woman approached, excited to show us all her gift of wood and granite, pieces from the wall’s construction made into a tactile memory to take home.

I must compliment those who had the vision of this wall’s design…for it worked as perfectly as you dreamed it! When the ribbons fell back, Bainbridge Island American survivors of exclusion and families began pouring through the archway, spilling gently like water down their wall towards the harbour. I sat on a big stone at top of the hill, watching a healing flow, feeling the complicated journey of America. Smiles spread across faces and laughter began bubbling its way back up the curved waves of this graceful wood and granite memorial. Hands touched names, plaques and pictures along the wall’s course, like a living river reaches to touch its guiding banks in passing, a story in every bend, a healing in every story heard.

For more on the Bainbridge Island Japanese-American Exclusion Memorial Wall, click on these link below.

http://www.bijac.org/index.php?p=MEMORIALIntroduction

http://www.bijac.org/index.php?p=MEMORIALDesignElements

Beyond the Borders: August 6th., Longbranch

Ah, those lazy, hazy, crazy days of Summer…yes folks they have come, albeit limping, into our neighbourhoods, up and down the Sound. At the beginning of August, the world begins to bring its balance back towards the Equinox. Of course this means it’s time, on the Key Peninsula, to groove with the world in music, peace and love…with two great local organizations. That’s right friends, this Saturday, August 6^th. comes another “Beyond the Borders” music and art festival, brought to you by the Longbranch Improvement Club and Two Waters Arts Alliance.

This festival is the jewel of Summer on the Key, and this year promises to sparkle. There will be Steel Drums to take you to the Islands, Latin Jazz to get your hips moving, and so much more (you can check the Key Peninsula News, online, for exact line-up and schedule) in this noon-to-six music program. It would not be Longbranch without a great Drum Circle, wonderful food, and a relaxed beer and wine garden. TWAA will have a show of works to satiate your eyes and everywhere you stroll, whether it be inside our beautiful hall or outside on the grounds, you will feel a committed community that welcomes a world-journey, and keeps young by celebrating the Arts!

Beyond the Borders was created by Longbranch neighbour, Mark Runions, so I asked him to tell me its story. Turning it over to Mark….

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In answer to your questions about the germination of Beyond the Borders: it was as much a slip of the tongue as anything else. A few Two Waters folks and I were sitting around after participating at a re-creation of Pioneer Days at the Civic Center about 6 years ago. Two Waters had funded live music for the event, and I wasn’t too thrilled with the music – one rock band after another – and I think I threw out the idea of bringing in some more interesting live music to the Key Peninsula. I remember suggesting zydeco and klezmer. People seemed to like the idea. On the spot, I said we could put on a sort of festival, maybe combined with an art show, and food, maybe with an international flavor, maybe call it “Beyond the Borders” or something. Bingo!

At that time, I was the only person involved in both TWAA and the LIC, so I approached the LIC about helping put on such an event, and donating the use of their grounds. Again, I received a positive response. It fit well with their “mission statement.” Carolyn Wiley in particular supported the idea, and really helped rally the LIC troops. TWAA committed to fund the music component and to organize an art show.

I became the coordinator in part because I had opened my big mouth.

There’s more to the story of course. But all along I have wanted Beyond the Borders to be a welcoming, open and friendly, and somewhat low-key event, with the hope that the local folks could enjoy a special event in their own back yard while experiencing the sights and sounds and tastes of other cultures. I did not want to see corporate banners flying and did not want to re-create the atmosphere of a county fair, with vendors and hawkers competing for your attention and dollars.

So, after 5 years, it’s still a pretty seat-of-the-pants operation to get Beyond the Borders off the ground. I think it has strengthened the ties of communication and friendship between the LIC and TWAA specifically, and the South KP with the rest of the Key in general. It takes a lot of time and energy to organize, and especially now, to keep costs down. And it takes the help of many volunteers to make it happen, and that’s good because we’ve seen that it’s actually sort of fun to work together towards a common goal, especially in the mad rush of Saturday morning when people join in to create a festival site in 3 hours flat!

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Thank you Mark!

So neighbours, bring your worldly appetites and those dancing feet…or hearts, jump on westbound hwy.16 to the Purdy Exit, hang a left at the first lights you see and head down the Key Peninsula Highway to Longbranch…World Central on the first Saturday of August.