Eternal Rest

I layed awake in the middle of the night last night, while remem- bering Gabriel De Roo's funeral on Wednesday. It was such a powerful, inspirational memorial service. Gabe was killed in Iraq on August 20th, and has received several memorial services - one by the military at Fort Lewis, one at his church, Discovery Baptist Church in Gig Harbor, and another for the public. That is the one that I attended.

My son Ruhullah and I went together. When it was over we chatted over coffee in my backyard for over an hour. His wife Annie and Hanah DeRoo are best friends, and Annie has been with Hannah most days, all day, while arrangements were being made. Annie is still providing comfort to Hannah.

Rue and Annie attend Discovery Baptist Church, in Gig Harbor, where Hannah's father, Mark Suko, is pastor. Pastor Mark gave the eulogy at the service for his son-in-law, and has helped carry his congregation forward. I'm so impressed with the selflessness of this man. I told Rue that what most impressed me is his composure and balance. He has always been this way, in the handful of times that I've had the privilege of attending his worship services or Christmas programs. He has a gentle manner, and fosters a remarkable community spirit in his congregation.

His wife, Nancy, also has this same effusive spirit, generous and warm. When I attended Bible study classes at the church with my daughter Ruhiyyih, I was always impressed with Nancy's encouragement and gentle presence. The ladies present, like Cheryl, Lucy, Sally and Clara, are pillars of support in many of the community events, and I saw them at the funeral. They came up to me with warm greetings, and said how much they all missed seeing my daughter, who is living now in the Washington D.C. area.

I told Rue that I was glad he is part of such a loving Christian community. I've been proud of Annie's support for Hannah at this time, too, being a good friend and confident. It is through the tough times that we see who our real friends are, who care and support us.

I also was impressed with the military presence at Gabe's funeral. There must have been twenty five soldiers, in full military dress, supporting the families and assisting with details. Normally, when we think of the military and war, we see quite different images. Yesterday, I saw such remarkable comeraderie and humility, and personal discipline. Those soldiers were there to support Gabe and his family, a strong quiet presence. I'll never forget the respect they showed. Annie's dad took a few photographs, and I'd like to post them here. It really shows the dignity and grace that I saw yesterday.

Going To China To Teach

This is Chris, with his wife Shadi at his side, and our Baha'i friend Rose, who helped celebrate a going away party for two of our friends who are leaving to teach in China.

Margie is leaving in a week to teach permanently, if all goes well. She's taught in China before, and this will be her third trip there. Margie loves the people in China, and most especially the children, who are very eager to learn English.

Tina will be working in the same city as Margie. She has worked here as a social worker, working with the homeless. As part of our evening gathering, there was a presentation on teaching in China by Amy, who lives and teaches there.

Amy was very touched by the spirit in the people of China, to have a good education, and especially to learn English. Many of the youth wish to learn English so they can do advanced coursework abroad when they get their degrees.

These ladies have been captivated by China's incredible history and its enduring culture. They look forward to participating in everyday life in China as well as contributing to the education of its people. Amy spoke about China's diverse climate and astounding natural beauty. She has made China her home, teaching in the same city for many years, getting to know the local people. She said she often visits the families, who invite her into their homes made of cinderblocks. Most of these are heated by a long hearth, called a 'Kang'. It is a long stone slab with a cooking hearth underneath. As the meal is being cooked, the hearth slab warms, and everyone sits on it to stay warm. It is also used for sleeping, when nights get quite cold. Amy said she once recalled temperatures of 40 degrees below zero, and this hearth, stoked with wood and cornhusks, was the only fuel.

There are particular challenges learning to live and work within this culture, where the history, culture, tradition and social system are different from ours. Considerable care must be taken to not promote religion, or to appear to be organizing into groups. When visiting with families and friends, Amy is careful to never have more than two people visiting at a time. As long as she consciously blended into the ways of the culture, she was able to acquire greater understanding of China and its people. She finds her work there so meaningful and has formed an inseparable relationship with China and the Chinese people. We hope Margie and Tina will enjoy their teaching experiences with the same kind of spirit.

Our daughter, Ruhiyyih, has gone to China twice to teach English, once for a year, and later as a course instructor, teaching the teachers how to teach. In fact, I started this blog just as she was leaving for China, with the hope it could help keep her in touch with us here at home....such was not the case, as most internet sites were off limits, with even phone calls and mail being monitored.

In the photo above, I showed Chris and Shadi, who were the first Baha'is we met when we first moved to Tacoma about 18 years ago. They made us feel so welcome, introducing us to their friends, and making our holidays special with so many gifts for our children. It truly does take special bonds of care and friendship to make someone feel at home in a new place. Rose, seated next to them, in that top photo, is from Iran, and is in the catering business. She provided much of the food for our celebration, and also chanted a prayer in Farsi, a most lovely and poignant contribution to our evening.

The Good Women of China

I did this drawing three years ago, inspired by Xinran's description of 'the Kang', in the book "The Good Women of China". I'll post a few excerpts from her section on "The Women of Shouting Hill":

"...Heaven and earth seem to have merged. The sun had not yet risen, but its light already spilled from a great distance across this immense canvas, touching the stones on the hills, and guilding the yellow-grey earth gold. I had never seen such a beautiful dawn..."

"...Further into the journey, people and traces of human activity grew scarce. The unbroken yellow earth plateau was scoured by swirling dust storms...to this day, I have never witnessed poverty to compare with what I saw on that trip...cave dwellings had been cut into the side of a hill."

"...I could not make out much of the cave in the candlelight; a quilt smelled pleasantly sun-bleached." "...the kang, a long stone platform over a firepit where cooking occurs, then family members sleep on top of it at night, their mats soaking up warmth. Some people sleep sitting on the Kang, to conserve body heat. Domestic tools consist of a few stone slabs, grass mats, and crude clay bowls. The kang takes up one-half of the space of the one room cave dwelling."

"...dried cow dung used for fuel gave off a pungent odor and choking fumes. The fire was lit between a few large stones. Flatbread was toasted, and a warm thin millet gruel was served. Mo, the bread, was so hard and dry that it kept for a year."

Shouting Hill lies in the belt of land where the desert encroaches on the plateau. All through the year the wind blows tirelessly, as it has for thousands of years. Villagers labouring on the hill have to shout to communicate. They have loud, resonant voices.

When cogon grass is in bloom, the women climb the hills to dig the roots for cooking fuel. The root system is extensive.

Women spin thread, weave cloth, make clothes and shoes and hats for the family. They have to feed livestock, sweep the yard, and maintain household tools.

"When I tried to experience a very small part of these women's lives through joining in their daily household tasks for a short while, I found my faith in the value of life severely shaken." ~ Xinran

The women of Shouting Hill had no concept of modern society. Their happiness lay in their ignorance, their customs, and the satisfaction of believing that all women in the world lived as they did...of the hundreds of women that Xinran interviewed over 10 years of radio programs on women, the women of Shouting Hill were the only ones to say they were happy.

Port Townsend - A Tourist Haven

Just a final few images here from our traveling around on the weekend. When we discovered that we couldn't canoe Lake Anderson, we spent a good part of the day exploring, checking out canoeing sites for future trips. We also spent a little time checking out Port Townsend, a historic Victorian seaport and gateway to the Olympic Peninsula. It also is a departure point for excursions into the San Juan Islands for whale watching. Nowdays, it has a reputation as a center for artists and craftsmen, and many of the little shops offer handmade jewelry, woven fabrics, and ceramics.

It is a tourist haven...filled with all kinds of trinkets, nic-nacks, and enticements.

The city has people dressed in period clothing, some offering buggy rides, and others giving guided tours along the streets. This gentleman was encouraging people to ride in his buggy.

Children listening to the stories from their elders.

The architecture requires a much closer look, we couldn't take everything in, in just an hour. So we agreed we'd have to come back, probably in the winter when the crowds have diminished.

Be Sure To Read The Signs

This was the sign that greeted us at Lake Anderson on Saturday, where we had hoped to do some canoeing. Officer Boice was there to greet us, and to explain that "Blue-green Algae Bloom" has caused the lake to be off limits to anyone - boaters and swimmers. The whole area is roped off due to this algae, which, when ingested by dogs, can kill them. Two dogs died from drinking the lake water earlier this summer.

Officer Boice indicated that blue-green algae, or Cyanobacteria, typically occurs in lakes rich with nutrients like phosphate. The algae can multiply rapidly to form extensive "blooms" that accumulate near shore as a thin bright green surface scum. When a bloom dies, the water surface may become colored with a mixture of bright blue and white material, often mistaken for a paint spill. She said "While not all blooms turn toxic, many of them have the ability to do so and it can happen very quickly."

As we explored possible coves and bays along Puget Sound, we found that the Washington State Department of Health had closed quite a few beaches due to Paralytic Shellfish Toxin, or Red Tide. When we found Oak Bay, I noticed that a warning sign was posted that prohibited gathering clams, oysters, mussels, and scallops.

These signs are printed in a variety of languages, so clam-diggers have the necessary infor- mation to protect themselves. Eating shellfish contaminated with this biotoxin is harmful to humans. If a person consumes enough poison, muscles of the chest and abdomen become paralyzed and death can result in as little as two hours, as muscles used for breathing become paralyzed. The toxin is not destroyed by heating or freezing, and the toxin can remain in shellfish long after the algae bloom is over. Shellfish containing toxic levels of Paralytic Shellfish Poisoning don't look or taste any different from non-toxic shellfish. Tests are routinely done on beaches in Puget Sound by the Health Department, and all suppliers of shellfish to restaurants have routine tests. For serious shellfish harvesters, the Washington State Department of Health provides a marine biotoxin bulletin that indicates where harvests can occur.

Since this toxin is harmful only if shellfish are eaten, the beaches were open for canoeing, and for walking pets. We spent about an hour paddling out to sandstone outcroppings and gliding through seaweed that packed the shoreline. Then the tide started to roll in, with massive swells lifting the canoe up and down. I packed a lite meal of cheese and crackers, and we glided back to our put-in place just as the sun was starting to set. It was a very quiet day on Puget Sound.

The Charm of Port Hadlock

When I first noticed Eileen, pictured here on the left, she was visiting with a lady friend outside of her bungalow in Port Hadlock. She was dressed in a lovely yellow sarong tied at her waist, with a black camisole and beaded necklace and earrings. While Eileen chatted with her friend, I wanderd along the main street of Port Hadlock and took some pictures, while waiting for a chance to visit with her. She had a big pair of pruning shears and was trimming the vines in front of her bungalow when I walked up and greeted her.

I was delighted to learn that she is a resident of Port Hadlock, and lives in this adorable little cabin, the first of several "Skunk Island Cottages" that are available for rent. All of these cabins can be rented by the day, week or month during the busy season, but come September, all of the cabins will offer 8-month leases, to encourage winter tenancy. I can't think of a more beautiful and idylic place to stay on Puget Sound in winter. For many years when I was working, George and I used to have a monthly 'get-away', pack up the canoe, and try to find little places like this in Oregon and southwest Washington. Off season rates were so reasonable, and we delighted in little coastal towns along the ocean. We'd stay the one night, do our canoeing, and head back home so refreshed. I told Eileen that our son is getting married in the middle of September, and I will tell him about this little cluster of cabins for a possible summertime get-away.

Eileen is also the proprietor of the Ajax Cafe, situated next to her residence. The cafe is in the old Galster House, built in the late 1800's. This quaint building was once the home of Samuel Hadlock, the founder of the community. I gave a glance at the menu, and noticed "Tom's Fisherman's Stew" - Mussels, clams, prawns, calamari, & fresh fish in a classic bouillabaisse served with crostini. I would be happy to start with that!

Although we didn't stay for lunch, because we were on our way to Oak Bay for a canoe paddle, I took a peek in the window, and noticed that tables were set for lunch. Check out the Ajax Cafe website, and note that they've got a blog entry that says, "Fellow foodies, rejoice! The food is stellar. The staff is outstanding. The atmosphere is funky/eclectic. No pretense, no nonsense; an unexpected level of cuisine. This Chef blends the freshest ingredients with remarkable skill. This is a "destination" restaurant for me now. It's worth the 85 mile drive up from Tacoma. (What's the recipe for their Sauce Bolognese? It's perfection! So simple, but oh, soooo good!) ~ "bubbabeernut" ~Tacoma.

A courtyard is out back for dining and social- izing.I noticed that they've got live music too. Deadwood Revival plays the upbeat and groovy songs on the guitar & does vocals ....The Reflections are a jazz trio that play standards from the 20's, 30's, & 40's ....and Ezekial Kelly performed last weekend on the flamenco & classical finger-style guitar.

Across the street from the Ajax Cafe and the bungalows is the Northwest Wooden Boat School. They offer classes in boatbuilding with hands-on-experience. They are the only traditional wooden boatbuilding school in the world to use and teach the distinctive methods developed in the early 1900's by Puget Sound shipwrights and master boatbuilders.

Four boats are currently under constr- uction, and a layer of dust covered everything. Even the windows had a thin layer of dust. I notice that they've got a "Gaff sloop - Nordstrom Knockabout" at the Hudson Marina, and it's for sale, about $17,000....a very pretty little vessel.

Out back, an old boat, possibly a cata- maran, sat in a weedy lot, its workdays over. It's got two hulls joined by a frame, and was a sailing vessel.

I walked down the remainder of Water Street, which is just a small open area. I was delighted to see the charm of little entrances, graced by flowers and little picket fences. I do not recall in all my years of traveling through Montana, Idaho, Oregon or Wash- ington during our canoeing trips of ever finding such a sweet little community, so lovingly cared for. It did not have the excessive touristy look that can be the bane of serious sightseers.

As we drove away, I looked at some of the boats being repaired, boats being launched at an old harbor nearby, and thought that this is one of those rare places I've always dreamed about, where everything is the ultimate in sweetness and charm.

A Season Of Stones

I've just finished another book, "A Season of Stones - Living in a Palestinian Village " by Helen Winternitz. When I read the front inside cover, it sounded so charming: "From Bethlehem, a narrow road leads down a long and sinuous valley to Nahalin, a Palestinian village that for centuries remained untouched by the grand events of history. It was a village of hand-hewn stone houses, where peasant farmers tended vineyards, groves of olives, and orchards of almonds and figs, and where the events of the day were customarily gauged by the passage of the sun rising from behind a long ridge and setting over the ancient shoulders of the Judean mountains."

Published in 1991, it was Winternitz's doccumentation of life on the West Bank at that time. She spent more than a year with villagers, learning the rhythms of day-to-day life, cooking, embroidering, gathering olives, watching the shepherds driving their flocks into the mountains. Then, the area exploded into violence, with bloody confrontations, detentions, and complete disruption of the villager's way of life. Schools were closed, shopkeepers went on strike, and the gentle way of life came to an abrupt end.

The man who most befriended Helen, who gave her shelter, became a political prisoner. He had supervised the care of handicapped children in his village, and now he was gone. His income provided the sustanance for 15 people, most of them relatives who could not get jobs. He was one of the most educated in the village, with a little farm of Romanian sheep and a thousand chickens. He was the one who innoculated the animals, and clipped the beaks of the chickens so they would not harm each other. The question now for the family was, "Who would make the thoughtful decisions to provide and care for the farm and the family?"

The women would wait at the gate of the prison, a barricaded fort, where they waited in supplication for information about their sons. Fences hemmed the prisoners tents into isolating sections. The whole compound out on the desert was paved, and the cots inside the tents were crowded together with armed guards spaced throughout. In the wasteland of the desert, the winter was bitterly cold, and in the summer the tents held the heat concentrated by the asphalt. Giant desert flies lined the stagnant latrine trenches. There was nothing to do but wait, the women worried about their sons, the young men caught up in hatred and violence.

The book is titled, "A Season of Stones", because stones were the only weapons these peasants had. When the schools were shut down, because of the fear of uprising, kids practiced throwing stones. They said, "If we can't study, what else is there to do?" An old aging villager laments the violence. He said, "The problem of Palestine will not be solved with stones. It will be with thinking, with give and take between the two sides. It will be solved with understanding. This is what I teach my sons."

I do hope that will happen. This is a sad week for my son Ruhu'llah, and daughter-in-law Annie, and for my young sons Rahmat'ullah (23) and Taraz'ullah (25). Their friend Gabriel was killed by insurgent fire in Iraq, and his memorial service will be this week. My sons attended youth activities in Gabe's church, played foosball with him, and Ruhiyyih was in a 'Living Nativity' as part of a Christmas program with Gabe, who played an angel. Everyone has very become so saddened, as Gabe was such a brilliant light, a devout Christian, and a strong devoted family man. He leaves behind a wife, Hannah, and an 8 month old son.

Yikes, What a Messy Office

He is always too busy to organize it, he says, but, when the gig is over today, he's gunna hafta do some organization. I'll have to admit, his new paint job is refreshing.

He's putting on the music today for a 80th birthday party for a friend....and I've got to clean this house. Ruhi class today.

Night Fishing At Ruston Way

Ruston Way is at the far North End of Tacoma, on Puget Sound. There is a long thoroughfare, for light traffic, and just about everyone who comes to the pier comes there to fish - for salmon, dogfish (a small shark), flounder, squid, and even sting-ray.

While George was doing his run on the hills of Ruston, Daisy and I got acquainted with the boisterous crowd lined up along the fishing pier.This is a long stretch of boardwalk, with 'gutting' huts for preparing bait. About sundown, you'll find men, women and children casting lines out onto the water and showing their catch.

This is some serious fishing, and when something is caught, it is everyone's business. They gather together to determine the lure and the bait, they check the fish and tell stories. Everyone was eager to share the time that "I caught one bigger than that", and "you shoudda' seen the fight in that bastard!"

Guys with fancy reels rammed them into the slots on the railing to check out the small sharks caught with....shark meat.

The 'gutting house' has stone slabs where fish are prepped and cleaned. There's a pump with running water, and pails for innards. The guys laughed over a few beers while getting bait ready. I noticed packages of squid, shrimp, and perch, all packaged specifically by a Korean market for fishing.

The place was sounding like a party, as one of the fishing clubs of Tacoma set up and cast out. This gear was inside the gutting house.

And nearby, the tools of the trade.

This couple caught an eel, a small one for Puget Sound. They had the darnedest time trying to wench that hook out of the eels mouth, but once done, it wiggled down to the bottom of the water. (And don't mind that sloping shoreline - I'll do anything to nose into a good photo!)

This guy told stories as he puffed on his cigarette. He said that several weeks ago someone caught a 10 foot shark off this dock. He fishes every night with his buddies until 2:00 in the morning, setting up lights over the water and jigging for shrimp. He's part of the fishing club. There are about 12 members, who 'party every night' here all year long. And, it did sound like a party, with lots of laughter, and cussing, with dads and moms watching out while the little ones cast their lines.

This little guy has been fishing for about a year. Those sunglasses are to protect his eyes, in case he throws that line in the wrong direction.

His sister cheers him on. She said, "Take a pit-chur of ME too."

Daisy and I spent about an hour listening to the stories, watching the catches, and then we left these guys, who said they'd be happy to have their picture taken. They gave a big grin and bear hugged each other. "But mind you" one of them admonished, "if yer picture don't turn out, you can just find us on the wall at the post office.

Up Close, An Eel

They threw him back into the water. Not good eating.

Zucchini Harvest

Summer Vegetables

This was taken about three weeks ago, when my garden was at it's peak, with zuchinni, tomatoes, potatoes, onion, carrots, peas, lettuce, cilantro, zinnias and snap-dragons.

Late Summer Garden

This was taken just a few days ago, before I cut back the squash and gourds due to mildew. I've pulled the gourds out, but the zuchinni has grown new leaves and fruit. I've also cut back the foliage on the tomatoes, to allow more growth in the fruit. The sticks in the background are holding the plum tree limbs up - they are heavy with plums now.

Cee Cee And Jim

It was just about dinner-time when my grand-daughter Daisy asked if she could walk down the street. She said she'd be gone for only a few minutes. She noticed a few children playing, and she wanted to meet them. They were Cee-Cee and Jim, and they live in a small brown rental house on the corner.

Daisy checks in every fifteen minutes, so when she came back from playing with Cee-Cee and Jim, she said she wanted to go back because she was the judge of their drawing contest. The children were inside the house with paper and pencils, drawing, and waiting for her return.

Now Cee Cee was an ambitious little sport, drawing a house, many flowers, a tree, and the sun. For all her four years she had figured that her drawing would surely win, and she held it timidly in front of Daisy.

But, there was this matter of an older brother, who had two additional years of practice. When she looked over at his drawing, her face saddened. She looked down at her work, and pressed it against her chest. It didn't seem so great anymore. She felt disappointed. She thought Jim's drawing was so much better.

She looked up at Jim while Daisy was judging his drawing. He was beaming, so proud of his work. I asked him if I could take a picture of the artists and their drawings, and he instantly held his drawing high, very high, so that it almost filled up the image in my camera!

When Daisy asked Cee Cee to hold up her drawing, Cee Cee hesitated. She saw how great Jim's drawing was, and now her flowers did not seem so bold. The house needed repairs. The tree looked lopsided, and that sun should have been much, much, bigger and brighter. Daisy told Cee Cee not to feel discouraged. "Just look how pretty your flowers are!" Cee Cee wasn't yielding to flattery, and Daisy was getting impatient.

Being the judge, Daisy took both drawings, held them up, and and said, "Grandma, take a picture!" Jim was quite proud, but little Cee Cee could not find merit in her work. She twisted her hands in doubt, regardless of our enthusiasm. Her little face showed all her anguish. Cee Cee's mother came out with a new baby in her arms, and gave a quick smile. She enjoyed seeing the photos I took of the children, and then motioned to them to come into the house for dinner. Jim galloped up the stairs, and Cee Cee stood there on the sidewalk and watched Daisy and I walk home. She held her drawing to her chest, looked at it one last time, and waved goodbye.

Now, if those children had used markers, so the images were more clear, you would see that Jim's drawing was mostly scribble, done hurridly, and without much thought. His lines were vibrant and fluid, spontaneous, and without accurate shape. Cee Cee's drawing was more deliberate, more carefully rendered, showing considerable skill for a four year old.

I hope these children get abundant encouragement, and feel free to explore and create. I'd like to see a smile on Cee Cee, a wide happy joy. We never realize how our creative work is a celebration. One cannot put judgments on it. It has a life beyond our singular intentions and our puny assessments. It is using us as an instrument. Who knows where the music goes, or who listens. Somewhere, someone is paying attention.

No Time For Small Talk

ListenUpPal: "His name's Bradshaw. He says he understands I came from a single parent den with indadequate role models. He senses that my dysfunctional behavior is shame based and codependent and he urges me to let my inner cub heal.........I say we EAT him!"

Seabeck on the Hood Canal

We packed a few things and headed out to Seabeck for a day of canoeing on Sunday. The weather was great, and the paddle started out with still water - perfect paddling conditions. Since we had Daisy along, the challenge was to have a short drive, and then find a location that was interesting to a ten year old child.

The beaches along Seabeck are oyster beaches, with clams in the sand, thousands of mussel shells, and plenty of detritus along the beach. I loved the exquisite colors in this mussel shell.

The skeleton of this crab had interesting muted colors. We noticed red rock crab scuttling the intertidal area to forage for food. Purple shore crabs, porcelain crabs and hairy cancer crabs frequently hide under the rocks along the shoreline. When I showed this skeleton to Daisy, she would not go near it. She has gone on over 50 canoe paddles with us over the past 4 years, and has yet to touch seaweed! (She says it looks slimy.)

We canoed down to Ricketts Beach, where there is a boathouse and community center (private) . The boats lined up along the shoreline were nested in the grass, and looked like they were not in use this season.

As we glided along, I pointed out schools of tiny salmon, swirling in the water under the canoe. They would dart away as we approached. There were also starfish, some, like these red ones were exposed in shallow tide pools as the tide receeded. The colors are varied; reds, oranges, and blue-greens. These little critters are very tough-skinned, and cannot be pried off the rocks. Sometimes, we see varieties with as many as 18 legs.

We skimmed along into a shallow inlet, where a family was picnicing. They, too had a canoe, and were drifting with the current and exploring the rock and mud bottom where northern clingfish, penpoint gunnels, high cockscomb, and sculpins scurry into to the mud.

The muddy tide-flats required pole-pushing much like one does with a raft. Daisy pushed in the middle, and George and I pushed from both ends. We went as far as we could, before getting stuck.

This old fishing boat, the Orca, had seen better days. The waves had completely broken it, and the innards were rusted and full of cobwebs. Nobody except me seemed interested in exploring this old boat.

So Daisy and George sat in the sun while I checked out the innards. I would have loved to fish from this old boat.

The tide was starting to change, with swells coming in, and George motioned me back to the canoe. We had some hard paddling, with a head wind, for the hour paddle back. People were out enjoying the water, and we enjoyed greeting families swimming and boating in the water. The temperature changed suddenly from warm and sunny to a brisk breeze. I put on my sweatshirt to keep warm.

When Daisy got hungry, George teased her by saying, "Oh, just wait. There's a catered lunch just around the bend!" Not falling for that line, I asked to stop at this little espresso place in Seabeck for coffee and chocolate chip cookies once we'd loaded up the canoe. Daisy had a Kiddie Grande, chocolate milk and I enjoyed my usual, an espresso with hot milk and sugar.

Rick, from Silverdale, comes here on weekends to play his guitar. He says he's lived in the area all his life. He loves to visit with the tourists and play his music.

He said that every year state and tribal shellfish biologists perform clam and oyster surveys on the beaches. They record data about water temperatures, food availability, harvest, disease, flooding and other environmental disturbances wich then determines the annual clam and oyster quotas. Half of the quota on every public beach is available to sport harvesters (the state share) and the other half goes to treaty tribes (the tribal share).
We saw this little miniature submarine on a hill along the highway. It has been festooned with Christmas lights.

The Big Beef Creek Field Station near Seabeck is part of the field studies of oceans and fisheries. It conducts studies on oysters, clams, and mussels to providing information and assistance to the shellfish industry. I walked along a field at the research station, where old farm machinery was displayed. I like the old colors and the com- plexity. It's all a mystery to me, what everything does, what it is for.

These were wheels to an old tiller. I like the grass poking through the spokes.

And, wouldn't you know it, for all our vigorous paddling to get back to our 'put-in place', we still got stuck in traffic near the Narrows Bridge. It came to a slow crawl, and we were stranded for awhile. George started tapping his fingers, worried, because our Ruhi Class starts at 4:30. I told him that if we are late, people will go to the patio out back and start the class without us. Fortu- nately, Kay was there, brushing up on details. She is the fascilitator. And, Barry dropped by for the Ruhi Class, eager to show us his new oil painting. It is an image of the pulp mill where one of his friends works. We gingerly passed it around as the paint was still slightly wet. I put it on top of the washing machine during our class, where the cats were not likely to step on it.

Just Girls, Together

When my oldest daughter, Laurel, would play house as a small child, and I would join her, she'd say, "Mom, we are just girls, together"....she was referring to the two of us, facing the world together. It was a phrase that I'd always associate with her. She's almost 40 now, and lives not too far away from us.

Meantime, she's grown up and gotten married, and we now are older ladies, together. With the arrival of Daisy, my grand-daughter, ten years ago, I had another chance to enter that playtime, of 'just girls, together'. It is a delightful gift, like payback time. I get to do all the things Moms enjoyed doing, and more. I get to play like a child, but converse like an adult.

Daisy has been with us here a week, while her Mom is in California, and we have certainly enjoyed the time together. We've gone canoeing, done some hiking, enjoyed daily walks, shopped for clothes, and built up some muscles riding our bikes. We've had glorious weather for reading out in the patio in the afternoons, puttering in the yard, and today we took a picnic lunch along on a bike ride. While we sat on a bench at the University of Puget Sound we talked about the role of women in society, and especially the role of mothers. I told Daisy that as daughters, we hope to live in a manner that will bring comfort to the hearts of our mothers, so they will not worry over us. We talked about courtesy and personal discipline, two traits that make a child esteemed in the eyes of adults.

When we finished our picnic and pedaled home, I washed Daisy's hands, and filed her nails. Then I added polish, a clear polish. Like a typical grandmother I showed her my labor-worn hands, those of a gardner, pot-scrubber, and caregiver. I said hands are meant to provide service, and one is quite fortunate if they can be pretty while doing so. I talked about the beauty of my mother's hands. Even on the last day of her life, as I held them, they were so warm and clean, with the nails filed with rounded points. I remember that being one of the things that always stayed the same about her.

Daisy will be starting the 5th grade soon, and I imagine her hands holding a pencil, erasing a mistake, and starting over again on a lesson. That too is good for hands.

This is what happens when you break too fast.

(thanks to Oldeupher for the image)

A Dog's Philosophy

Don't accept your dog's admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful. - Ann Landers

If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went. - Will Rogers
A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself. - Josh Billings

The average dog is a nicer person than the average person. - Andy Rooney

We give dogs time we can spare, space we can spare and love we can spare. And in return, dogs give us their all. It's the best deal man has ever made. - M. Acklam

Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate. - Sigmund Freud

I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult. - Rita Rudner

A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn around three times before lying down. - Robert Benchley

Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog. - Franklin P. Jones

If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons. - James Thurber

My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3.00 a can. That's almost $21.00 in dog money. - Joe Weinstein

Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea. - Robert A. Heinlein

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man. - Mark Twain

You can say any foolish thing to a dog, and the dog will give you a look that says, "wow, you're right! I never would've thought of that!"- Dave Barry

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole. - Roger Caras

If you think dogs can't count, try putting three dog biscuits in your pocket and then give him only two of them. - Phil Pastoret

My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am.

Asian American Water Festival - Bon Om Tuk

This is one of the Dragon Boat teams on the Thea Foss Waterway at the Asian American Water Festival. Bon Om Tuk is an event sponsored by the Cambodian American Support Network to promote understanding, diversity, and the sharing of resources.

Daisy, George and I attended the Festival on Saturday. While Daisy and I visited the food booths, watched the races, and enjoyed the music and crowds, George visited with friends at the Baha'i booth throughout the day. Although the Dragon Boat races occurring throughout the afternoon were certainly the most thrilling part of the celebration, Daisy and I enjoyed watching the introduction of rowing teams, with their banners and colorful t-shirts.

In Cambodia, this celebration also includes "Awk Ambok" (eating sticky rice with coconut juice and banana), "Sampeah Preah Khae" (worshiping the moon), and the "Bandaet Pratip Ceremony" (floating the lights). During this ceremony, Cambodians honor the Mekong river, which promotes fertile soil for crops. Similar ceremonies are held annually at the Chaktomuk River in front of the Royal Palace in Phnom Pehn.

Bon Om Tuk has a long inter- woven history and connection with religious legends and Cambodian navy practices as part of military preparedness. Here, young men sit, watching the preparations.

Cambodian Dance Groups took the stage, singing songs and dancing. The predominant theme of the day was "Oneness".

People layed out mats, brought their families, and played their musical instruments which included gongs, drums and free-reed mouth organs. The Chinese introduced 2-string fiddles and hammered dulcimers, and were influential in initiating the theatrical style of presentation. Some of these instruments and the music were banned during the war years, and is slowly being reintroduced. There is a distinction between 'music in Cambodia', and Cambodian music. The former embraces all ethnic groups within the national boundaries, and the latter is limited to the majority, Cambodians.

Buddhism was influential in the shaping of Asian festivals and music. The great temple city of Angkor, a place of pilgrimage, features murals with celestial dancers with harps, circular frame gongs, small cymbals, and suspended barrel drums. These elements evolved into the Pinn Peat Ensemble used for religious ceremonies, court dances, and theatrical plays.

Since George had to 'set up' early, Daisy and I drove down to the waterfront later in the day, and I had to park my car several city blocks from the event due to the crowds. I parked up on a hill in the middle of the historic part of Tacoma, the Stadium District. While we walked down the city streets, I thought what a different environment Tacoma is from the lovely lush fields and waterways of Cambodia. It takes a bit of stamina to adapt to cities. It is a whole different lifestyle.

This is the bracketed clock tower at Old City Hall, built in 1893. It features pressed brickwork, terra-cotta ornamentation, and a copper tiled roof.

The brick walls at the base of the structure are eight feet thick and were made with bricks brought as ballast on ships. The clock tower is freestanding and its walls tilt inward as they rise, to increase the sense of height.

Nearby, another richly decorated facade.

And, lastly, this is the facade of the old Elks Lodge, the BPOE. (Best People On Earth?) Someone had plastered a little 6 inch photo collage on the side of the building. There it was, looking like a tiny smudge on a corner. I walked over, bent down, and marveled that someone would take the time to create a statement about a dragon's appetite...."I'll turn you into oil."

Well, that was the surprise ending to our day at the Dragon Boat Festival.

Evening Twilight - Point Defiance Park

Point Defiance Park

This is the pond at Point Defiance Park. The Park is vast, with many hiking trails as well as a large open arena for relaxing in the sunshine. People come here to jog, picnic, or do group calisthenics on mats they lay on the ground. There is a rose garden, a Japanese garden, and a community center for weddings and other festivities.

We go to Point Defiance to walk in the forest. Last week we hiked for about an hour and a half, at sunset, and since a good portion of it was uphill, my legs were quite tender the next day. So, last night we decided on a shorter hike, mostly level. I was in the lead, and came to a fork in the road. I headed downhill, eventually descending right down a bluff onto Puget Sound. We stayed there, watching the sunset play on the water and fishermen in boats were drifting along the water.

Since we had Daisy along for the hike, I brought some bread along, and we pinched up tiny morsels of it into little balls and fed the ducks in the pond. I never tire of hearing their little murmurs to one another, and they've gotten so tame they will take a morsel out of my hand. But, I have to let go quick, or I'll get nibbled too.

George had no interest in being surrounded by ducks nibbling at his socks, so he deliberately threw his bread balls far out into the pond, with the hope that the ducks would scramble after it. No such luck. Daisy was right there, handing out generous portions, squealing and encouraging them. There were so many, and little babies too.....that was a delight for Daisy.

Too Sweet For Words

A six-year-old boy told his father he wanted to marry the little girl across the street. The father, being modern and well-schooled in handling children, hid his smile behind his hand."That's a serious step," he said. "Have you thought it out completely?"
"Yes," his young son answered. "We can spend one week in my room and the next in hers. It's right across the street, so I can run home if I get scared of the dark."
"How about transportation?" the father asked.
"I have my wagon, and we both have our tricycles," the little boy answered.
The boy had an answer to every question the father raised. Finally, his dad asked, "What about babies? When you'remarried, you're liable to have babies, you know."
"We've thought about that, too," the little boy replied. "We're not going to have babies. Every time she lays an egg, I'm going to step on it!"

Heroines For The New Millennium

We've had some good temperatures finally, in the upper 70's, so my grand-daughter and I spent the afternoon reading out on the patio. There was a slight breeze, the sprinklers were spraying the dahlias, and life seemed quite peaceful. .

I was reading Queen Noor's "Leap of Faith", and Daisy was re-reading "Not One Damsel in Distress" by Jane Yolen.

Queen Noor writes about the challenges of life in Jordan. To better the living standards of poor Bedouin women she set up weaving projects among Bedouin households. At first the women were suspicious, and rather than receive the $180.00 'setting up' fee to start a collective project, the women continued to walk the fields collecting goat dung to sell at the market, to support their families.

It took some convincing to get the simple project going, but when the women started receiving substantial income from their carpets and clothing, they developed a very successful handicraft business. They spent the income on medical care, schooling for their children, and even earned money to buy homes.

The momentum of the successful Bani Hamida weaving projects spread through other Bedouin communities, who likewise began similar projects. These women started assuming a new role in their communities. Queen Noor says it reminded her of an old Chinese saying, "Women hold up half the sky." She said it was immensely gratifying for her to see these women reflecting the "universality of women's essential contributions in building society."

Daisy's book, "Not One Damsel In Distress - World Folktales for Strong Girls", says that we "need to remind ourselves that girl heroes have always been around, hidden away - as you say - in the back storeroom of folklore." She says "these stories need a shaking out every so often, like some old camp blanket that's been packed away all year."

Everyone knows the tale of Hercules, but in this book we get acquainted with fierce and feisty females like Atalanta from Greece, goddess of the hunt, patron of young women warriors. And there is Erna, who proves in "Fitcher's Bird", that the power of brains is mightier than brawn.

Daisy has read these tales often when she comes to Grandma's house. I gave it to her for Christmas several years ago, and it stays here, so I've always got a favorite book for her.

(Additional links here, here, and here.) Photo credit: The Jordan River Foundation

If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning. ~ Anonymous (Oh dear)

Random Thoughts

If you told someone that they were one in a million, you'd be saying there were > 1,800 of them in China.

In downtown Lima, Peru, there is a large brass statue dedicated to Winnie-the-Pooh.

In space you cannot cry because there is no gravity to make the tears flow.

Q is the only letter in the alphabet that does not appear in the name of any of the United States.

The Eisenhower interstate system requires that one mile in every five must be straight. These straight sections are useable as airstrips in times of war or other emergencies.

The number of births in India each year is greater than the entire population of Australia.

There is a city called Rome in every continent.

A jogger's heel strikes the ground 1,500 times per mile.

A man named Charles Osborne had the hiccups for 69 years.

A red-haired man is more likely to go bald than anyone else.

Hand Over The Burgers Or Else!

....or else Mom will have to cook dinner tonite.

I sure wasn't in the mood for that yesterday, so Taraz, Daisy and I walked a couple of blocks down to the Goofy Goose Hamburger Joint where we got chocolate shakes to go with burgers and fries.

This is just a little mom and pop 'hole in the wall' place that serves teriyaki, Yakisoba noodles and fried rice, fish and chips, jo jo's, slopy jo's, and other take out items. After Taraz placed the order, we waited inside, where there are just a few tables and chairs.

Daisy got a few quarters from her uncle, and they worked the machines. Or I should say, she settled for stickers, and she watched him play.

I'm savoring these outings with my son. His marriage is in a month, and he's found ways to share the specialness of these days with me. I addressed all of their wedding invitations and I also did some shopping with Taraz. We found a beautiful shirt for his honeymoon.

At dinner he said, "Mom, do you have any last minute suggestions?" I wasn't sure if he was talking about dessert or marriage, so I picked the latter, and said, "Be very careful what you say or do when you are angry." I know for a fact that we always regret what we say when our feelings and observations are skewed in a moment of anger.

On a lighter note, when George came home, he went to the garden and picked out his dinner. It is here, like a bridal bouquet, in front of him. Collard greens, and he did the cooking.....

How Your Computer Works

(thanks to Oldeupher for image)

Summertime Play

My grand-daughter, Daisy, is with us until the end of the month when her mom, Annie, returns from vacation down in California. My son Rue works a 3:00 p.m. to 'after midnight' shift, and cannot care for Daisy at night....so, guess who has a little house guest.

She is quite easy to please, and knows just how to occupy her time. When I last checked, she'd drawn a computer, with her own chat-room. Chat-room friends were "Golden Retrever" (Nicole), "Belle's Friend" (Lindsay), "Sweetie Bug" (Mckenzi), and the Master of Ceremonies, "Candied Mint" (Daisy). She's written all of the commentary, quite appropriate for soon to be 5th graders....rejoicing in summer days without homework.

Daisy spends a lot of time combing her hair, making styles, and looking pretty in the mirror. She can do this by the hour. I thought she was primping when I hadn't heard her for awhile, but actually she'd gone outside to draw, and I found this little message on her hands:

This.........

Is...........

Jane.

Jane can run. Jane can hop.

Yeah for Jane.

Oops...I squished Jane!

Oh....No!

Exploring Kittitas County

This was our destination - Cooper Lake in Kittitas County, in the central part of Washington State. We've camped here before, with our kids. The campground is on the right.

Cooper Lake is an excellent canoeing lake, with enchant- ing little hideaways lined with wild violets, white daisy, purple aster, and huckleberry bushes. The snow-capped Cascade peaks are in the distance. We canoed to the very end of this lake, where there are passages into wetlands, with reeds lining the shallow water. Other canoers were here, basking on sandbanks, enjoying the sunshine and blue sky.

This is strictly a canoeing/kayaking lake. There is no boat access, and the campsites are set off from the road so unloading camping gear is tedius and time-consuming. The work involved is quite strenuous, and families had every member, including children, huffing and puffing to get the gear down to the campsite.

We secured the very last campsite, mid-morning on Saturday - I was glad we loaded up our van the night before, and headed out early, as quite a number of people came looking for a campsite mid-day and found none available. George and I had our afternoon coffee here, just a few steps away from our tent. We were camped next to a Seattle family with 2 sweet young children. The father had the most charming melodious voice, and as I sat in my chair by the lake, I listened to him coo to his children with the utmost endearment. He sounded like a Jew at the Wailing Wall, with his deep, reverant voice and strong accent. Later on, while we chatted over coffee, I found out that my imagination was correct. His parents now live in Israel, and are Russian Jews. He said he has tried hard to remove his accent, so he sounds more American. Surely, what a disappointment that would be, and I told him so.

The most enchanting paddle we had was at dusk, Saturday evening, when the lake was completely still. (I didn't bring any of my cameras, as I wanted to enjoy the peace and tranquility.) As the sun set, it highlighted patches of reeds on the far shore, making them golden and enchanting. The happy sounds of campers could be heard across the lake, and campfires glowed along the shoreline. For the most part, it was quiet during the day, with just an occasional set of calls by resident ravens and the sound of chipmunks scurrying from one picnic table to another foraging for food. I left part of a peanut-butter sandwich on the table, and some little critter had found it, unwrapped it, and struggled to carry it away.

When we packed for this trip, I included my winter coat, mittens and a scarf. I knew mid-day temps were only in the high 70's, and nights were in the 40's. (Alpine altitudes.) We used our down comforter for warmth, and come morning, I could see my breath as I cooked breakfast!

We made steaming cups of hot coffee, followed by a breakfast of bacon and eggs on a fried English muffin. Within hours the coat, sweater, and long sleeved shirt was off, and it was T-shirt weather.

We took our time striking the camp, hiking all the gear uphill. A type of commeraderie occurs among all the campers, as they visit along the trail. I noticed that most of them were 'enthusiasts', with very muscular legs and arms, with impressive kayaks and gear. We saw a number of them stopped at a swimming hole along the Cle Elum River, lounging on big rocks here. We climbed some big boulders to watch the little rafts float down the current. I walked along the river, too, going from rock to rock. The current was very strong, and the water very clear.

On our way to Cooper Lake and also on the way home we stopped in the rustic little towns of Ronald and Roslyn up in the mountains. Ronald had just a few buildings one could call town, and we stopped to shop for some supplies at the country store. This old building had just about everything one needed for an emergency, for fishing, camping, skiing, backpacking and hiking.

George wanted to buy his meat here, at Carek's Meat Market in Roslyn, an establish- ment that has been around since 1913, and still serves up smoked ribs, bacon, jerky, cheeses, and smoked summer saussage. The lady here said that she could slice up a rib eye steak, slice up a roast, or grind some hamburger for us.

She showed me the specialty jerkey - black pepper, honey garlic, Teriyaki, and the cajun, all for about $15.00 a pound, and looking like they went through a forest fire.

An old scale was the only adorn- ment, and it had to be hung from the ceiling as the shop was so tiny.

Roslyn is a little mountain community that began around 1889, with the discovery of coal. The mines were worked to provide coal for the railroad. Nowadays, it has that image of being held together by memories, hard work, and ..... fame! It was the location for the fictional town of Cicely, Alaska, in the hit TV series "Northern Exposure". All of the fuss is gone now, with just a few shiny cars basking in the noon-day heat in front of buildings over 100 years old.

There are many delightful tourist images for Roslyn, but we decided just to drive down old alleyways, where I could find what I enjoy most, that image of 'make do', that characterizes small western towns. No fancy buildings here, tract houses, and the like. Just one small building which served for awhile, then was added on, and on, with all types of stovepipes and chimneys to help keep the establishment warm in the winter. I love this makeshift, tumble-down image of building still being used.

Across the street was a saloon, with a mural on the back. There were quite a few murals in Roslyn, but the light was so glaring that day, I was reluctant to photograph them. I hope to come back here on a daytrip sometime, and really explore this little town. It has a ton of history. Unfortunately, we just breezed through on our way over to Lake Easton on our way home, for our last paddle of the weekend.

There, we paddled under the freeway, up a river with the most exquisite tiny pebbled riverbottom, and had to negotiate our paddle very carefully while gliding under a bridge. Lots of people were there, ready to jump with a powerful splash into the water below. We had to make sure they didn't land in our canoe.

A toast: To ancient evenings,
and distant music...

We're going away for a few days,
to explore eastern Washington,
and to lay under the stars...

Farmer's Market - Downtown Tacoma

"Hmmmmmm", Taraz says, as he picks a special bouquet for his beloved, Megan. He looks at me and says, "We've got to make these next few weeks before the wedding special. I want to get her some flowers and some scented oil....." And with that, we went shopping, got a bit of lunch, listened to music in the common square, and watched the youth dance at the Farmer's Market.

We toured all the vegggie stands, the flower stalls, and the food booths where crowds were lined up for lunch. Apricots, nectarines, and cherries were hot selling items. Bings and Rainiers here.

I'm partial to the raspberries, blueberries and black raspberries.

The Market lasts only from 10:00 until 2:00, Thursdays from spring through fall.

The Market is as much about people as it is food and flowers.

You'll see office personel walking during their lunch hour, and students from the campus, Tacoma branch, U of W.
Oh, we must not forget the balloon man with that special hat, a favorite with the children.

When Taraz and I were finished, we loaded his bike into the trunk of my car, and drove it to the repair shop. He had a flat tire. He rode it home, then looked through an old photo album. He wanted to see what his dad looked like when he got married. He sat out on the patio and laughed, "Dad's hair was huge!" This son of mine has the same type of hair, kinky curly. (Megan made the hat for him.)

Driving Can Be Dangerous, Too

Testing, just

TESTING

....lets see....

E F G 9 4

or was that F P O D...?

I - POD?

(Note: One should never try to read the computer screen after an eye exam.) Wait, for the pupils to resume normalcy.

The Earth As Art - A NASA Gallery

This is a NASA image of the Dasht-e Kevir, or 'valley of desert', in Iran. It is an uninhabited wasteland, composed of mud and salt marshes covered with crusts of salt that provide these patterns.

GSFC Laboratory for Terrestrial Physics presents Earth as Art, a gallery of images using satellite images to convey the beauty of our earth's terrain.

This satellite image is of the Von Karman Vortices, airflow paths spiraling over the Pacific Ocean near the Aleutian Islands in Alaska.
Images courtesy of USGS National Center for EROS and NASA Landsat Project Science Office

This Too Shall Pass

A mom was concerned about her kindergarten son, Timmy, walking to school. He didn't want his mother to walk with him. She wanted to give him the feeling that he had some independence but yet know that he was safe. So she had an idea of how to handle it.

She asked a neighbor, Mrs. Goodnest, if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he probably wouldn't notice her. Mrs. Goodnest said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.

The next school day, Mrs. Goodnest and her little girl, Marcy, set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbor boy he knew. She did this for the whole week. As the boys walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs, Timmy's little friend noticed the same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week. Finally he said to Timmy, "Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?"
Timmy nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, I know who she is."
The friend said, "Well, who is she?"
"That's just Mrs. Shirley Goodnest," Timmy replied, "and her daughter Marcy. "
"Shirley Goodnest? Who the heck is she and why is she following us?"

"Well," Timmy explained: "Every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd Psalm with my prayers, 'cuz she worries about me so much. And in the Psalm, it says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life', so I guess I'll just have to get used to it."

Make Mine Red

Words of Wisdom

"If you aren't part of the solution, there is good money to be made prolonging the problem."

"The best things happen just before the thread snaps."

Exploring Our Common Humanity

Most of the time on Flitzy, you're going to get the lighter side of me. After all, when you visit someone, and they put the tea on the table, the conversation always leads through polite conversation. When leaving, there is a feeling of refreshment. But today I'll show you a more serious, contemplative side.

Seems like I'm always in the process of shaping my thoughts, and then shaping them some more. Acquiring sound impressions requires some application, reading, discourse, and even one's own personal experience which shape our judgments. I feel like I'm always learning.

We are living through considerable upheavel right now, with the war in Lebannon and Israel. I do watch the news and read several blogs that illustrate various views of the war. I pay attention to the issues, listen to the dialogue, size up the pressure points. I think the interconnections of history with people's lives provoke some poignant reading and cinema.

And, with that in mind, I'll tell you what I'm reading and watching....first, an Arab who becomes a Christian who seeks to combat anti-Semitism; then an Arab woman who confronts the horror of terrorism; also, the story of a Budapest Jew confronting his past; and, lastly, a Christian woman who becomes Moslem, and marries a king....

Walid Shoebat and Zak Anani were interviewed on TV, and additional interviews are also on the Internet. Shoebat was a former PLO terrorist, writing the book, "Why I Left Jihad", which describes how young men are recruited and trained for Jihad. Shoebat, who converted from Islam to Christianity, came to public attention by becoming an ardent critic of Islam and supporter of Israel. He is the founder of the Walid Shoebat Foundation, an organization that seeks to combat anti-Semitism and promote peace in the Middle East.

Wanting more first-hand knowledge of the role of women caught up in these parts of the world, I got the book "I, Nadia, Wife of a Terrorist"by Baya Gacemi, from our library. This book was made possible by a grant from the National Endowment of the Arts, and is published with the support from the Cultural Service of the French Embassy in the United States.

I wanted to know what it was like to live in war-torn Algeria and to be caught up in the guerrilla movement. This story exposes a nightmarish patriarchal struggle that confronts countless rural Algerian women. The book also features the seduction that permeates the thinking of young, uneducated men attracted to violence and militant agendas.

The story takes place in Hai Bounab, Algeria, around 1992. The young wife of an Islamist hit man is forced to conform to the strictest Islamist codes while trying to build her marriage and family life. She enjoys the status of being called 'the Mother of the Believers', but becomes rebellious when she sees the brutality of her husband's actions. Graphic scenes of violence surround her village near her parents, and eight brothers and sisters. Because she is married to a terrorist, she becomes an outcast in her own village. No one feels safe around her. She becomes destitute, not even her family giving her shelter. When her husband is killed, she is rescued by a women's group, and interviewed. Her story reveals the frenzy of terrorism and the impact of the brutal struggle of women caught up in it.

I finished the book, then rented the movie "Fateless", a 2005 film by Lajos Koltai based on the 2002 Nobel prize-winning novel by Imre Kertesz. "Fateless" is a poignant story about a Hungarian Jewish boy and his quest for the meaning of his past. The film is outstanding in its humanity and in its visual power. Its ultimate theme ~ "there's nothing too unimaginable to endure". One sees similarities between this film and "Schindler's List", this film being much more subtle, treated with wonderment, awe, and transformation.

I'm finishing out my week with a copy of Queen Noor's book "Leap of Faith, Memoirs of an Unexpected Life". It is the story of her life with King Hussein of Jordan. With eloquence and candor, she speaks of the obstacles she faced as a naive young bride wishing to work in the role of an activist and humanitarian within a royal court that put limitations on the role of women. It also provides a compelling portrait of the King, trying to bring peace to his war-torn region, securing peace treaties with Israel, and suffering the setback of the Gulf War. Queen Noor gives a concise history of Jordan and of the Arab and Israeli tensions that consume their lives.

Queen Noor writes, "Life and death - both are stages in the journey of the spirit, both are entirely in God's hands. Hussein often said that we are mere custodians of a timeless legacy that transcends any single person, country or culture." She says, at the time of his death, that she was imbued with a sense of gratitude for her husband's extraordinary example - his faith, his patience, his calm in the face of conflict and hostility, and the integrity of his vision, the quest for peace.

She continues, "Politicians and leaders will seek solutions, peaceful and otherwise, to mankind's ills, but for change to be positive and lasting we must all acknowledge our common humanity and live by the shared values of our faiths..."

Boop-Oop-A-Doop! BETTY BOOP

First, Betty Boop's Rise to Fame - Betty with her creator. Note how she rides on his paintbrush. Her famous Boop-Oop-A-Doop is here, just delightful.

Then, Betty Boop Dreams - this is a contemporary spin on Betty Boop. The music and graphics are so upbeat and fun. I just love it.

Animation's first leading lady, Betty Boop, debuted over 70 years ago, on August 9th, 1930, as a cabaret singer in Max Fleisher's short film "Dizzy Dishes". Her wide-eyed innocence won hearts all over the world.

Will That Be A Tall, Grande or a Venti?

When coffee first came to Constan- tanople in 1615 Viennese priests warned "it was the drink of infidels". But, recently it has been found to be a beneficial drink, in a variety of ways. Lawrence Solomon writes, in "A Coffee A Day": "Overall, the research shows that coffee is far more healthful than it is harmful," says Tomas DePaulis, Vanderbilt University's Institute For Coffee Studies. "For most people, very little bad comes from drinking it, but a lot of good."

(I could have saved them some research dollars if they'd just see me, 'before coffee' and 'after coffee', first thing in the morning.)

INeedCoffee is a website offering Monthly Caffenation Information, that is, uh, deep.....like Monkey Chewed Coffee Beans, and Coffee Confessions...."I knew I had a problem. I just couldn't admit it. Sure, I’ve done your marijuana, your crack cocaine, your LSD, your Nyquil shots, your heroine laced with Mr. Plumber, your airplane glue (both gel and liquid form) and your standard list of multi-colored pills chased down with a fifth of Jack Daniels, but this thing is different. This addiction is unlike all those others. This is actually dangerous.Yeah, you guessed it. I’m talking about drinking coffee."

As I recal a month ago brother Dick asked me where the local Starbucks was, and I said it was just two blocks down and around the corner, on 6th Avenue. In my confusion, (probably needing a jumpstart myself), I forgot that it wasn't a Starbucks, but just a plain ole' espresso place, 'Firehouse Coffee', a funky (but new) coffeehouse gussied up with little tables, chairs and a comfy sofa in front of a fireplace. It specializes in 'fair trade coffees'. (Fair Trade means coffee beans cost a bit more to importers like Firehouse Coffee so that growers can sustain the development of their plantations, pay plantation workers a livable wage and provide better living conditions.)

I couldn't understand all the fuss with 'Starbucks'. Dick asked where the nearest one was, and he walked another mile, down 6th. He said he liked Starbucks because they have wireless Internet....and here I thought he loved the ambience, the lines snaking through the store past the Mellita Filters, the coffee makers, the biscotti, and past the colorful coffee mugs.

Sebastian Little writes, in "Why We Hate Starbucks", that Starbucks is a" catalyst for industrial revolution". The coffee industry has been revolutionized in no small part due to the standards set and held by Starbucks. There are over 11,000 stores, with over 6.4 billion dollars in revenue. Their power of market domination allows them to simply buy out their competition when they wish as they did with Torrefazione and Seattle’s Best in 2003. Little says, "Starbucks is hell bent on world domination. When a new Starbucks springs up in your neighborhood the old coffee shop may not survive."

I'll be watching the Firehouse Coffee, our ole' espresso place. It may not have the internet access, but the college kids like to go there, pull up a chair by a sunny window, and do their homework. It has bikes parked out in front, and I don't see any marketing executives doing a survey. It may last yet.

But, I have a confession to make.....yesterday, when I was shopping at the Mall with my son Taraz, we stopped at a Starbucks. He ordered a Mocca Frappe-a-something with whip cream, and I ordered just a plain Americano, with a dash of hot milk and 4 sugars.

And, when I got home I photo- graphed my new purchase - two little ceramic coffee cups, pictured above. They are just waiting for a tea-party. I've got some fresh-made zuchinni bread to go with it.

Silver Lake Resort

This is one of the little cabins at the Silver Lake Resort, one of our state's oldest resort communities.

Silver Lake is about a two hour drive south toward Chehalis and east of Castle Rock, through bucolic farmlands and forested hill country. (One must be clear about directions such as these, as there are 12 lakes named Silver Lake in Washington State.)

Silver Lake Park encompasses the resort, an early-day homestead and an old logging site. Much activity centers around the lake itself, with quiet bays, open stretches of water and sandy beaches. Mount St. Helens is visable from most locations on the lake.


While George was unloading the canoe, I explored the resort and parts of the camp- ground. I went down to the old dock, where rental boats were available, for rowing. Tents and small motor homes circled the campground, and families were sitting in the shade enjoying the 80 degree temperatures. Children swam in a corded-off section of the lake subdued by a 'breakwater' of old cut timbers chained together. It was delightful listening to their boisterous conversations, and I thought how wonderful childhood is in the summertime on a lake.

This is an old gas station at the resort, that still sells gas, but from plastic containers. I peeked inside the door, and the garage was full of old tools and engines that were being repaired.

Along one side of the old shop were 'tools of the trade', an old pump and gasoline containers that are used today.

This pump, with a long handle, could have pumped gas at one time. I enjoy the patina of rust and old paint, grease, and the mystery of old gadgets.

Green and white picnic chairs lined the balcony for guests, and a small store offered tackle, bait, soft drinks and snacks. People were mulling around, discussing the fishing, sorting their gear, and an old dog sat panting in the heat at the front door.

Silver Lake attracts serious fisherman, looking for large- mouth bass and trout, as well as perch, crappie, and bluegill. We've paddled all the sections of this lake over the past 7 years. Families fish year-round.

I've only filmed 2 of our paddles on this lake, last Saturday's, and one other paddle in the wintertime, when everything was gray and rainy. On Saturday I filmed very little because the light was extremely poor at mid-day. (The only thing visually interesting about our winter paddles were the fishermen in their raingear, hunkered down in their boats, lines out, and silent.)

Our paddle on Saturday was about 4 1/2 hours, from 11:00 to 3:30, and we covered about 6 - 7 miles. The shoreline is consistently the same, with dried out lily pads curling upwards in the sun, so a bit of tedium can occur unless one is just out to soak up sunshine and enjoy the fresh air while exploring the shoreline.

We found this entrance into a marshy pool at the end of the lake. A trail has been chopped through the vegetation, maintaining it for fishermen.

Someone got these old boats up here into the shallows. This is quite an accomp- lishment, since the lake is only 10 feet deep throughout. We suspect these boats haven't been used in a long time.

We finished our paddle just in time to have afternoon espresso while driving back home, and then it was dinner at the Sizzler, my Dad's favorite. While we loaded up on salad bar and enjoyed steak and shrimp, we decided we'd conquered Silver Lake, possibly for the last time. We're thinking about heading over to eastern Washington now, to check out some sites for camping in September.

Pretty Cool, Huh!

Anyone wishing a break from the heat can stay here....

Want to know the weather anywhere in the world? From what I'm seeing on the Weather Channel, everyone is cookin'. Construction workers in New York are having to work shorter shifts. People are riding the bus to get the air-conditioning.

"Thumbs Up!" - Movies For The Weekend

This week I watched three especially wonderful movies, from our public library. They are all foreign films, my favorite, with subtitles. They all have especially endearing people - Chinese, French Canadian, and Mongolian. And, the cinematography is beautifully done.

"The King of Masks" was a very touching story set in the streets and waterways of Sichuan, China. It is a tale of hope and transformation in the face of poverty and lonliness. The old man in the tale is a rare master of an ancient street art, which must be passed on to boys only. He has no heirs, so adopts a grandson....who turns out to be a girl. You can imagine the horror, when he discovers the deception, and also the drama, when the little girl wins over his heart. The poverty of the streets, and also the selling of children on the black market is quite disturbing. But, the imagery, music, and flow of the movie is perfect for a quiet afternoon.

"Seducing Dr. Lewis" is a French film that is simply charming, and very funny. All of the characters in this little impoverished island community are so endearing. They use their special charm, and ingenuity to convince a big-city, cosmopolitan doctor that their isolated village is the ideal place to live. When the mayor of the village determines he lacks the motivation to paint his home to give it a more spiffy appearance, he saves face by declaring his home a 'National Historic Site'. No need for paint or repairs. This is the kind of thinking that just gets better as it gets more complicated.

"The Weeping Camel" is the story of a family of nomads living on the Mongolian desert. This movie was my favorite, because it was so visually beautiful, and almost seems like a documentary. The story unfolds as the family assists in the birth of a camel, which becomes an especially difficult birth. The mother rejects the baby, and the family feeds the little bum, coaxing the mother to care for it. Ultimately, the sons travel to a far-off village to fetch a musician capable of performing a magical ceremony. It is quite lyrical, very moving and tender. And, of course, all is well in the end. (This is a movie that would be suitable for children, but it does have graphic scenes of the birth of a camel.)

Fire Rainbows and Mother of Pearls

Oldeupher sent me this image of a Fire Rainbow that was seen near the Idaho-Montana border. This is one of the rarest of naturally occuring atmospheric phenomena.
This is a website for understanding and making rainbows...... the writer says, "

"After you have made your own rainbows you will come to realize we are always surrounded by them. All you need to make them visible is the magic dust of a spray of water when the sun is out."

CNN also had an interesting article on Mother-of-pearl clouds over Antarctica. (Thanks to Ruhiyyih for the link.)

Ned Kahn has a portfolio that is fascinating - experiments with fog, water, fire, light, wind and sand.

Secret Worlds - The Universe Within

Would you like to view the Milky Way at 10 million light years from the Earth?

Would you like to move through space toward the Earth in successive orders of magnitude, until you reached an oak tree in the forest near the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory, in Tallahassee, Florida?

Well, that is not all. The NHMFL will also show magnifications occurring on the tree, on the leaf, inside the leaf, inside the molecular structure of cells, and through the cell nucleus. It goes from there through the chromatin, DNA, and finally into the subatomic universe where only the very last quarks remain.

Science, Optics, and You is the work of Molecular Expressions, featuring photo galleries that explore the fascinating world of optical microscopy. This tutorial experience explores the use of 'exponential notation' to understand and compare the size of things in our world and in the universe, providing glimpses of the duality between the macroworld around us and the hidden microworld within.

Live cell imaging, the virtual rat, cells in motion, and burgers and fries were my favorites. I could spend all afternoon getting lost in these images, like the fluttering heart of a pond flea in one of the videos.

Just a world of infinite grandeur waiting for the touch of a finger on the keyboard......

Ethnic Fest At Wright Park

More than 150 merchants, from ethnic clothiers to corporate sponsors erected tents, strung banners and set up tables for a free, two day festival here at Wright Park, in downtown Tacoma.

Ethnic Fest is a yearly tradition, cele- brating Tacoma's rich cultural diversity with music, food, and bargan shopping. Within a half mile of Portland Avenue on the East Side, more than 45 different languages are spoken - Philipino, Jamaican, Chinese, Korean, Indian, Persian, Japanese, and more. Ours is a very rich community, ethnically speaking. Everyone was wearing their native costumes, and ethnic clothing was the hottest selling item. I photographed these cute bags in a shop catering to the flavors of India and Pakistan. Most of these items are hand-made.

Toby here is a close friend of ours. He brought several of his children, and spent both days on the weekend visiting with old friends. Wherever Toby was, he was completely surrounded by people. He is very active in the Native community, and in the Baha'i community as well.

I visited with this gentleman on Saturday, when I took his picture, and again on Sunday. Here, he is twisting to the sounds of reggae. He is a Tacoma native, but has traveled all over the world. He was delighted to have his picture taken, and I've sent him a copy.

When I returned on Sunday, this lady waved to me from across the food aisle - she remembered seeing me on Saturday. I told her the photo I took of her was beautiful.

I was filming this man's masks and baskets, when he came over to me, took off his robe, and said to take a picture of him!


This lady was happy to have her picture taken, but first she wanted me to take a picture of some of her items from China. Out of respect, I'll show you here what she pointed out, the most delicate, colorful miniature garments - to keep a bottle properly dressed.

This man grinned at me as I passed, and it was so beautiful I turned around, walked back to him, and asked him if I could photograph him - he tilted his head back in a wonderful deep laugh, and obliged.

This couple decorated their little dog in a clown outfit, and I was fortunate to be able to chat with them awhile, while we were standing in line at a food booth.

Their little dog always has his tongue sticking up like this, and had to be carried due to the press of crowds.

There were two entertainment stages, alternating with performances. I especially enjoyed local jazz musician Michael Powers. People got up and danced spontaneously to the music. The powerful, playful reggae of Alex Duncan is always wonderful. He is a favorite, and is asked to return every year.

I sat on the grass and watched graceful Hawaiian dancers perform the Hula Halau 'O Kealaakua Naniloa Mana'o- akamai. Of all the dancing I saw, theirs was the most beautiful, and the most sensual. Other dance formats were Belly Dance, Celtic, Native American, Japanese Dance, Cambodian, and the Shahdaroba Middle Eastern Dance Troupe.

This is the barbeque - just powerful, wonderful aromas. The smoke drifted over the entire park. The cuisine of over 20 different countries is featured every year at Ethnic Fest.

When the performances were over, I ambled through the little exhibits, most of which offered ethnic clothing, jewelry, music, and artwork. There were educational and informative agencies, like the Breast Cancer Resource Center, The University of Washington, the Tacoma Art Museum and Historical Society, Bates Technical College, the American Cival Liberties Union, the Tacoma Urban League, the Rescue Mission, and the Health, Fire, and Sheriff. Not just any exhibitor or vendor can participate. A jury screens applicants for space. The Baha'is have held a booth here for years.

George and I attended both days. We bumped into Taraz and Megan there, and I also greeted quite a few old friends that I haven't seen for awhile - some were friends of my children when they were growing up. I was amazed at how they've grown, and are already raising their families.







We left Ethnic Fest feeling a wonderful sense of community.