Dreams of Peace

This collage was done by my artist friend Mizu Sugimura of Federal Way. Until I began writing on the Tacoma News Tribune blog I’d never met Mizu and yet although we were separated by only a few degrees. How I am connected to this soft spoken gentle soul, so unlike me and yet so connected, has been much on my mind lately as I have begun to climb the mountain of memoirs my father left. Mizu’s Japanese American family was imprisoned during WWII. My father was at Kaneohe Naval Air Station on the island of Oahu on December 7th, 1941. It is this chapter of his life that I have been working on to try to catch the eye of a publisher. That day changed the lives of Mizu’s and my father’s forever.

Recently I heard that an Atomic Museum has opened in Los Alamos, New Mexico featuring replicas of the Enola Gay and “Fat Man” and Little Boy,” the bombs that were dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. This year for the first time the United States sent representatives to Hiroshima for Japan’s Peace Day remembrance of what happened sixty-five years ago. I am happy that we can now acknowledge the destruction we wrought and fascinated and revolted all at the same time with the museum. Following WWII my father participated in Operations Redwing and Hardtack testing the atomic bomb on Eniwetok in the South Pacific. I am revolted that there’s a cathedral to an event that caused in the neighborhood of 240,000 deaths immediately and an estimated 350,000 by 1978.

I know the conventional thinking is that American lives were saved when an invasion of Japan wasn’t needed to end the War in the Pacific, but I cannot help but wonder if the same effect would not have been achieved had a bomb been dropped over the ocean as a demonstration of its destructive power. I am also fascinated to learn that Japan may have been in negotiation with the Soviet Union at that time to surrender to them because the government thought they would get a better deal with the USSR. I will be interested to find out more about that since I cannot imagine that any sort of occupation by the Soviet Union would have been superior to that by the US.

Pearl Harbor and the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki happened before Mizu and I were born and yet they shaped our lives by creating the atomic age we grew up in. Both of our father’s went on to work for Boeing and both of us attended the University of Washington School of Communications, although we did not meet until some four years ago. Getting to know Mizu has put a face on the other side of a conflict and period of time that was pivotal in my father’s life. As I work at finding a publisher for my father’s memoirs and as we recognize what happened sixty-five years ago I wonder if we will ever universally understand how close we are as human beings. By the time he wrote his memoirs in the late 1980s my father expressed his hope that we were seeing the dawn of universal peace for all time. He self published his writing for the family and went on to live to see September 11th and our invasion of Afghanistan and his hope end. Do we still dare to dream of peace?

Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Grammy Summer Camp

I refer to days when my granddaughter comes to hang out with all of us as Grammy Camp days. Linda and her cousin Gabriel, who with his parents live with us, are finally old enough that they don’t squabble as much as they used to. They are within two months of being the same age and have adored each other since Gabriel’s mom took care of Linda as an infant. Cooperative play hasn’t always come easily so I was delighted last week when Linda came for a night and everything went so well I didn’t hesitate to say yes to another night. On several occasions we have taken the grandchildren individually to our summer home on the Long Beach Peninsula. Taking both was out of the question, especially before Dave retired, but they are getting to an age where taking the two of them will be plausible.

When I was the age of my two oldest grandchildren my cousin Janice and I began going to our grandparent’s house in the country outside of Vancouver, Washington. Janice and I were almost as close in age as Gabriel and Linda and the only girls in the family. She lived on a farm on Whidbey Island which was fun to spend time at, but it was also fun to go to our grandparents because as everyone knows grandparents are not your parents and will cut you more slack than parents would.

It being the 1950s there wasn’t much on television that a child cared about so our days were filled with playing outside in Grandpa’s little corn field or feeding the chickens and looking at the rabbits. An owl decided to take up residence in their yard which was also very entertaining as he seemed to not mind people in the least. One year our grandparents took us to the dime store and told us we could pick out a toy. We chose identical small baby dolls that came with little plastic bath tubs and baby bottles. As I remember Janice’s baby had a blue tub and romper and mine had a pink. There was one television show that we were allowed to stay up and watch. Our grandmother liked staying up to watch Johnny Carson and the Tonight Show. We were even allowed to eat Cheerios off of TV trays before the television. That was our secret. I NEVER stayed up that late at home.

I treasure my memories of visiting my grandparents. Out of the total of my life they are precious few days, but make up such sweet memories they might have been months or years. I hope that I am making memories for Linda and Gabriel. They will be small for such a short time and soon will not want to own knowing who their grandparents are, much less hang out with us.

Yesterday their Uncle Nadir, who is here visiting from California where he is going to school, decided to do some ice cream science with the children. He went out and purchased dry ice, whipping cream, and vanilla. This wasn’t just a cooking lesson. Uncle Nadir explained how dry ice is made and what makes it different from the ice our refrigerator makes. They were not to touch it. They combined the whipping cream, vanilla and sugar in a large plastic bowl and took turns running the mixer while Uncle Nadir shoveled in the dry ice. Soon the mixture began to thicken and spoons came out for a taste test. More mixing and more ice ensued. When Uncle Nadir declared it done a little extra ice was thrown on top and the bowl went into the freezer. While their science experiment hardened their uncle let the children stir pots of “witch’s brew” with dry ice creating the bubbling, steaming effect. As a single young uncle is want to do, their let them have a dish of ice cream before dinner. His mother will remind him of this when he has children.

On the way to meet my son at Linda’s swimming class, she begged another night and it is very hard to say no to her so her clothing is washed and hanging out to dry and the children spent part of the afternoon decorating the front patio with sidewalk chalk to welcome our family friends Jo & Jon—or JoJon as they call them. We are celebrating Jon’s birthday. Jo and Jon have no grandchildren yet, but we let them borrow ours.

Bridal Showers

It’s official. I’m old. I’ve started saying, “Back in my day….” Our current onslaught of family weddings is overwhelming mentally and financially. Currently I am having a problem with the notion of a wedding shower.

Back in my day the purpose of the shower was to assist a bride in setting up housekeeping in her own home. She was going from her parents’ house to that of a new home with her husband who presumably didn’t have a lot in the way of linens and kitchen furnishings. Showers had themes usually linen, kitchen or lingerie. Increasingly it appears that showers are a second bid at a wedding gift since the shower hostess will include the name of the store or stores where the bride and groom are registered. “I’m just getting something from their list,” my daughter-in-law said sanguinely regarding my niece’s shower. Not me. If I shop off that list it will be for a wedding gift. Shower gifts are supposed to be inexpensive and the party more about celebrating the bride. Nowadays many brides and grooms have had homes alone and together for a number of years before they decide to marry and there is no longer an actual need for a "shower."

I like old fashioned embroidered tea towels. My husband had no clue what a tea towel was when we married and I still have to constantly remind him that these towels are not for dirty hands. I don’t have the time to embroider them myself anymore although I did back in my day, but I shop enough antique and second hand stores to find them. So rather than purchasing something off of my niece’s Macy’s list I hit a couple of my favorite antique malls and got three beautiful tea towels, staying away from some that were really rather racist—napping Mexicans and pickaninnies. I admit to also purchasing some sweet measuring spoons, too.

There is a real possibility that I will not be buying off the Macy’s list for the wedding either. In the last few years I’ve begun giving family brides and grooms pictures of their grandparents. Family is important to me and so I will be scouting out a nice double frame for copies of the sweet pictures I have of my in-laws when they were young.

On the other hand, a baby shower, especially for a first baby is quite another thing altogether. Fortunately, we haven't any of those looming on the horrizon. Three engaged nieces and one engaged brother are quite enough, thank you.

Is the Red Delicious or Eye Candy?

I’m on a broom. I work in a high school and there are a lot of vending machines. The machines make money for the student body for dances and assemblies and I have a problem with them best left to another rant. When I was a teenager the only vending machine we had was one which vended cold, crisp, juicy Red Delicious apples. It was nice at the end of the day to stop at the vending machine and get an apple for a dime to munch on the way home. I always liked Red Delicious apples and the fact that they were grown in Washington was handy.

Twenty years or more ago I noticed that Red Delicious weren’t so delicious anymore. They looked pretty, but they had no taste. Our household has long since switched its loyalty to Fuji and the occasional Gala apples. This morning I read a letter to the editor of Grit Magazine that explains why. According to former orchard owner Carol Coddington of Alexandria, Pennsylvania, the reason Red Delicious apples don’t taste as good as they used to is American public demand? Did we ask growers to great tasteless apples? No, but we did demand redder, more picture perfect apples. Apparently with apples you can’t entirely judge a book by its cover so those beauties that make for great pictures are more eye candy than taste treat. Now, says Coddington, growers are beginning to mess with Gala Apples. If they start messing with Fujis I’m going to be really mad! This is one more reason to eat locally. If you can find someone with an apple tree in their yard, bang on the door and ask if they will share or go to a local farmer’s market and buy direct from a small farmer. That’s the view from my broom.

Oregon Lavender Festival 2010 Day Two

We did not get as early a start today as we usually do during the festival. It being Sunday, Gail had some obligations at church that could not be escaped. Had it merely required attending a church service I would have gladly gone along with her since I was raised in the Episcopalian Church and can discern little difference in her Evangelical Lutheran, which despite its name, is pretty mainstream. No, she had to go and rehearse music with the organist and singing is not one of my talents—I would have been sent out the door to the curb promptly I opened my mouth—and it involved a meeting following the service which would have become boring for someone not enmeshed in the doctrine and goings on there so I stay at her house and amused myself by reading an article by Harper Lee’s biographer, it being the 50th anniversary of the publication of that wonderful novel To Kill a Mockingbird. Uninterrupted time can be as much of a blessing as any church service.

So following a hastily eaten lunch at Gail’s home in Mt. Angel, we set out, but unfortunately had to back track to Yamhill to exchange some lavender festival t-shirts she’d purchased. The expense of time was soothed by more lavender snickerdoodles and some may even make it home to my grandson. Hopefully at least one. We visited Lavender Thyme, but they seemed depleted on items and vendors and it was hot. As has happened before our best farm of the day was the last one which we barely made it to before closing. Parrot Creek Herb Farm in Oregon City has a beautiful setting and because all the other festival followers had headed home the owners had time to chat. This happened two years ago at a farm no longer even on the tour. The end of a hot day, when it begins to cool a bit can be magical and we enjoyed our chat before turning the Civic towards Mt. Angel. The best part of the day may have been the rum cake we had at a German restaurant there.

Another Oregon Lavender Festival has been appreciated and will be thought of and talked about next year when we go again. It was not as hot as two years ago, but not as comfortable as last. We did not go to any farms that were unpleasant and this is the year I got to see my friend Marlys. Undoubtedly the cold lavender milkshakes at the end of a hot day will be mentally appreciated for years to come, too!

Oregon Lavender Festival 2010

My yearly trips to Oregon for the Lavender Festival are about more than lavender. They are a chance for me to go to a pretty part of the world, relax and recharge with a friend I’ve known and loved since I was six. That is more years than I care to own. I love my big household and doing homey things, but it is divine to come to a place where you can set a thing down with a reasonable expectation of it being in that spot minutes or hours later. A household of six and a small dog cannot be as peaceful as a household of one and a cat. It is nice to occasionally visit a different world.

This year arriving in Mt. Angel, OR was an even larger blessing because of the traffic on freeways between there and my home in Gig Harbor, WA. I have long had anxiety regarding freeways which HBP medication has helped to a certain extent, but does not entirely ameliorate. Although I left Gig Harbor at 11:30 AM, a reasonable time, a trip which I have made in 3.5 hours in the past took five in 90 plus degree heat and with an air conditioner that, like a couple of things on my car, decided to take a little break! So I was grateful when the air conditioning kicked back on and I was able to get off of I-5 and onto the back roads of Oregon. I am seriously considering taking the train next year!

A salmon dinner and a shower soon made me feel better although Oregon’s heat wave prevented me from sleeping as well as I might. Undaunted, Gail and I set out Saturday morning on our quest of all things lavender. Our journey began with a short ride on the Wheatland Ferry across the Willamette River. The ferry is quaint and adds to the ambiance of a beautiful rural area.

It would be impossible to say which our favorite lavender farm is although we have hit some duds in three years of perusing. Our first stop this year was Red Ridge which quite possibly has the most beautiful prospect. As its name implies it sits on a hill top with fields of lavender sloping away from the house and gift shop. From there you can see the surrounding bucolic countryside and our visit there is always pleasant.

Willakenzie is another favorite. It, too, has a beautiful setting, an extensive gift shop that includes hand-knit items from the wool of the alpacas the farm raises along with lavender. We always find treasurers there and this year was no exception. After we’d done some retail therapy we enjoyed lavender sorbet on the porch of the shop and took away lavender lemonade and lavender ice tea for the road to Yam Hill.

After a brief stop at the Carlton General Store where I purchased sunscreen (having left my own bottle in my car in Mt. Angel) we got to Yamhill and the festival in the park there. Booths with crafts and art line the edges of the park under ancient trees while a band played on the bandstand in the center. We particularly enjoyed an extensive display of local paintings of the many lavender fields that surround the countryside of Yamhill. At a picnic table we unpacked our picnic lunch which we might have enjoyed were it not for a couple of people who seemed to think that the area we were in was the smoking area. Although our chicken salad sandwiches were good (if I do say so myself) they might have been better appreciated somewhere else. Before we left the festival grounds we purchased two lavender snickerdoodles to enjoy on the road.


Helvetia Lavender Farm was eagerly anticipated by me. It is always the busiest stop on our lavender journey with lots of booths, music and food, but this year it held the special attraction of another childhood friend, Marlys Violet Spencer, seamstress extraordinaire who lives and creates “wearable art” in Hillsboro, OR. Marlys a year ahead of me at Sammamish High School in Bellevue, WA and unquestionably the most entertaining of my acquaintances. She has done work for large and small theater groups as a costumer around the Pacific Northwest and in Hawaii. She returned to her childhood home of Hillsboro to care for a dying father and create yet a new chapter in a very interesting life. She sews wedding dresses, kitschy shirts that truly are art, and beautiful scarves all made from repurposed fabric she finds at garage sales and Goodwill. When we first stopped at the booth where I quickly spotted her wares, Marlys was nowhere to be seen, but the farm and festival is extensive so we wandered the many booths and before we left found her returned. Big hugs and introductions ensued along with a lengthy chat to catch up. When a customer needed Marlys’ attention we moved toward the car and I was dismayed to realize that I’d not gotten her picture. Before we left she told me to choose a scarf since she reckoned she owed me 40 years worth of birthday presents. I was already determined to buy a scarf for myself and one for my daughter-in-law who loves pretty things so I eagerly chose a purple and gold one for myself and one featuring shades of orange for Ana.

We ended our lavendering at Mountainside Farm where we had a barbecue chicken dinner that featured lavender potato salad. It was quite possibly the best potato salad I ever ate and since I have culinary lavender at home I am determined to add it to the next potato salad I serve. Please note that I did not say “make.” Costco sells a very good potato salad which I doctor up to suit myself saving time and effort. Potato salad is not important enough to me to labor over.

Our day was not done. We stopped at a large berry stand that included an ice cream parlor where we ordered lavender milkshakes which we enjoyed in their outdoor eating area. A cool breeze had come up and it was the perfect end to a lovely day. Gail said that the milkshakes were even better than the lavender sorbet we had at Willakenzie. That’s a tough call and I’m glad we had a day that included both.

Looking for Organic Beets

Today Dave and I went looking for organic beets. Sometimes I feel like I’m the “hunter/gatherer” in my quest to find healthful food for our family.

We are committed to eating as organically as possible and to that end try to buy from local farmers and organic stores and even have organic produce and dairy delivered to our home in Gig Harbor. We seldom/never shop at Whole Foods because of the attitude of CEO John Mackey who came out against health care reform. Yes, eating healthful food can help you stay healthy, but people get sick even if they exercise and eat right. My sister-in-law died young of pancreatic cancer despite years of eating organic and exercising. A coworker has been organic forever and a day and within weeks of retirement was diagnosed with breast cancer, so it happens. Mackey thinks were stupid if he thinks shopping at Whole Foods is better than health care reform.

On the Long Beach Peninsula, where our “someday retirement” home is, finding organic food is more problematic than at home in Pierce County. Still, it is possible. Today we set out and started with Green Angel Organic Farm on the back road. They sell to the little organic market in Long Beach, but I like to cut out the middle man if I can. We wanted beets, but got skunked and settled for summer squash instead. Next stop was the Organic Market where we found potatoes and hotdog buns.

Seeing how the mist seemed to have settled in hard enough to discourage yard work we decided to sneak over the bridge to Astoria and see the new digs for the Astoria Co-op Community Store. I liked their funky old store located in one of Astoria’s aged downtown buildings. Their new place is nice, slightly bigger and they have an eating area they didn’t have before. They don’t have a deli like Marlene’s in Tacoma, but they do have some packaged salads that can be purchased and consumed on site. During the 1970s my first husband and I joined a co-op that grew out of a play group our children participated in. We didn't have a store front, but took turns going to Seattle to the industrial area to pick up large quanities of food stuffs the members wanted, then took it back to Kirkland where we lived to be divided into orders for members. Getting healthful food without breaking the pocketbook has always been a problem. The agribusiness likes it that way. Thank goodness that there are getting to be more and more organic store fronts and that mainstream markets are carrying more and more organic products!

Because I have a guest coming early Wednesday morning for tea while her husband is down the road at physical therapy, I wanted scones to serve with the tea and so we stopped by The Blue Scorcher Organic Bakery where I bought hamburger buns, but no scones. I finally resorted to buying a scone mix and will brave my screwy oven that seems to run hotter all the time. Fingers crossed that I don’t scorch the scones!