The Top Ten Reasons Why...

Regular readers of my blog will already know that The Man and I are looking forward to retiring within the next few years. He's had more than enough time working for the steel industry, and a job that gets him up at 4:00 in the morning and not home until 5:30 pm on a good day. But beyond the need to stop slaving for big industry is the soul's cry (his and mine) for something more fulfilling: we crave a new adventure. We are long past due for a big change. Change can be scary, change can intimidate. But it also beckons with the promise of new riches, new inspiration. Places to go, people to meet, ideas to hear, new colors and textures to life. Who is satisfied with waiting for change to come and get you? That sort usually involves something unpleasant, something out of control, maybe something on the road to breakdown. 

We want to choose our highway, and so we are planning. We are seeking this big move in both attitude, and in longitude and latitude. We have explored our options and have settled on the Rose City, Portland, Oregon. What could possibly be bad about a place that celebrates the fabled flower of romance? So why else Portland? (It rains a lot, you know? Yes, we've heard. But in reality no more than it rains where we live now. Have you ever lived with the extravagant weather of the South Shore of Lake Michigan? Wind, rain, ice, snow, humidity, tornadoes, oh, and of course, sunshine, which Portland has, too.)

But why this spot in the Pacific Northwest above anywhere else in this broad and varied county? I could go on for days about the positive experiences we've had on our three trips to the frontier, but let's just say: when you know, you know. There is a personality to a place. It either embraces you or it doesn't. And this one welcomes us more broadly every time we return.

So in no particular order of rank, how about my top ten list of why I'm sooo ready to move to Portland:

1. Size Matters. I have always wanted to live in a downtown neighborhood of a chosen city, be surrounded by the the culture, just walk out my door and fall into life, yet not get lost in the noise, the dark of the high rise canyons, the overwhelming energy of the larger metropolis, like our current closest, Chicago. Portland is sized to human scale. (And we love how close the airport is.)

Sampling fresh baked croissants and more. Hairnets required.

Portland Walking Tours: Epicurean Excursion

We attended cooking school for local farmers market cuisine.

A favorite deli from past trips has a new outpost.

Silk, a Vietnamese restaurant in the Pearl District.

2. Feed Me. Now that I'm here, I need places to eat. Interesting and varied cuisines abound, farmer's markets pretty much every day of the week, cooking classes, micro breweries, wineries, chocolatiers. Artisan is a word with integrity here.

Drinking "Fresh Laundry" at McCormick and Schmick's

A Latin beat, and couples are up dancing.

3. Party Hearty. We appreciate that that when people have places to gather and a town with civic pride, all sorts of gatherings for the purpose of a good time will arise. And this is not only for the young. Families and singles, young and older, locals and tourists, all find planned and spontaneous entertainment around every corner.

4. Hitchin' a Ride (on public transit).I have lived in and visited cities all my life, and used subways, trains and buses from Toronto to Philly to DC. Where I live now, they pretty much don't understand the concept; Portland, outstanding transit system.

Outside the Portland Art Museum 

The Oregon Symphony prepares to play a free concert in the river front park.

Just fun!

Saturday Market

5. Cultcha'. All sorts, from free symphony that we happened on in the Tom McCall waterfront park, to Latin quartet on a public plaza in the middle of town, to fantasy auto shows at the art museum, quilts at the Japanese gardens, Saturday market crafters, Voodoo Donuts (a touristy but wonderfully fun institution of sugary badness.)

Cycles...

to kayaks...

to Segways!

6. River and Bridges. The romance of water and a way to cross over. In Chicago it's a lake that looks like the ocean. Here a river called the Willamette fits the scale of the city. I grew up in Philly and the gritty industrial areas and rail yards are a part of what defines city for me. But here they decided to move the road and make that waterfront accessible for recreation. A big loop of exercise and possibilities.

View of downtown from the East bank.

View of downtown from the West Hills.

7. Hills and Views. It's a little like San Fran, built on hills. Mt. Hood watches over, and if you are located on higher ground, you can see all the way past Mt. St. Helen's to Mt. Rainer. Now that's a view you can boast about! So many wonderful attractions on the West Hills--zoo, rose gardens, forested parks.

8. Fit, Active and Attractive. The population that is. Almost seem like another species when compared to home. Oh, and way more laid back. The airport experience alone tells the tale before you even set foot out the door. And when you do, the air will be sweeter and feel cleaner. No lie.

Portlandia

9. Ideas into Action. Fitness here is more than a personal philosophy. It also pertains to making society a better place. Civic involvement in creating a positive future is on display around every corner. It's like a workshop for the rest of the country to get a taste of the possibilities. Watch us, we're willing to try the grand experiments. The excitement is palpable.

The Columbia River Gorge at Crown Point

Multnomah Falls

Mount Hood

Wine Country in the Willamette Valley

The Oregon Coast near Yachats

10. It's in Oregon! One of the most beautiful states in the nation, with  an embarrassment of riches, it boggles the mind--mountains, rivers, oceans, fertile valleys, wildlife. A retirement playground with abundant variety.

I'm going to need a little extra income to support that city lifestyle. Do you think the tourism board needs any help?

Let the Sun Shine

This week is all about a love story. Yes, I know that terrible things are happening in the world, there is sadness and fear and people are hurting. But even so, side by side with this reality are the wonders of life, ongoing. I say, if you are fortunate to have the good things happening, then you best show your gratitude and enjoy every blessing. We never know what tomorrow will bring.

Spring Cycle--a story in weaving and embroidery
 of the earth coming alive in Spring.
The embroidery is done, and currently being sewn to my favorite jean jacket.

The newest member of the hippo clan wanted to say "Hello."

I found my first love in the early days of finding myself, when all was new and intense, we (the country) were at war (as always), society was in an uproar of competing ideologies (as always), the economy was difficult (as always), but young people had love, and hope that peace and prosperity could become a reality. Well, that first love came and went. We know what happens with the cycles of social change (they come and they go). Once again I found love, only this time his vows were for the long haul, and two weeks ago we celebrated our 20th anniversary. 

Two loves: My Man and the energy of the city

Of course I'm smiling at him (and maybe the view from
 the Corner Bakery at Michigan and Wacker)

What is it to be in love at the dawning of...what to call it...the second act? The time in life when you realize that you still have one more chance to reinvent yourself, make good on the promises you gave that young hopeful you, to do something special, to live up to a dream. Well having that person to make those plans with and look forward to every day yet to come, that makes the next act ever more satisfying than going it alone.

One of the most breathtaking, fabulous, ornate, old time theaters anywhere.  (Not that I've been everywhere, but I'm just sayin'.)

Too bad it had such a short visit.

The weather had not been kind this winter (finally officially past!), and we were not able to spend our usual romantic overnighter in Chicago for Valentine's Day. Now that we are planning for a spring vacation, it seemed best to put that on hold. By the strangest of coincidence, we were able to celebrate instead by attending the 40th anniversary Broadway revival of the play "Hair", which has begun it's national tour with a very brief stop in Chicago. In my hippie days, (and oh, yes, I was there for it all) I certainly couldn't have afforded these tickets, although I got to see it as a Penn State student (on March 13, 1971) almost exactly forty years ago. One factor which makes our romance so unlikely and so wonderful is that in those days I was that hippie girl searching for utopia, while my husband-to-be was a U.S Marine, trying to survive in the jungles of Vietnam. Had we met at that time, it is certain we would not have ended up together. But  we both survived those years of craziness, found each other somewhere in the middle, and hopefully will continue to write our story for a long time to come.

Hair Joy

I just recently acquired this fabulous book from 1974,
by Jacopetti and Wainwright. Original cost $7.50. I paid $50 on Amazon. 

The production was very enjoyable. "The Tribe," as the cast of friends is called, was performed by extremely talented and enthusiastic young artists. The usual fourth wall is broken throughout the play as the actors interact with the audience, speak directly to us, come down off the stage and crawl over and around us, and during one entire song, the main male and female characters, Berger and Sheila, sat next to us, with actor Steel Burkhardt's arm around my David! At the end of that surreal moment he ruffled David's (ahem) hair, and during the course of the play so did two other female characters. (He loved it!)

A man who loves his home and cares for it entirely on his own
 (note the torn, muddy knees.)

You may recall a watercolor sketch not so long ago
 of a certain snow-covered bench.

But something bothered both of us even in the midst of our good time: the tone of the action. Where was the mellow, where was the true belief in the causes? The message of the show, something I lived and understood, was terribly garbled in a sort of showoff style of performance, and a staging that had the actors all acting all the time, (and often in crude sexual role play) rather than bearing witness to the message of the moment. For all its pop culture hit songs and fun antics, the play has the potential to tell a very serious story. Moment somewhat missed.

First Happy Hour of 2011 on the front porch: celebrating spring

Fragile, wonderful, perfect

The second important story of my week will already be known to many of you: Spring has finally arrived! Sure it promises to take a road trip around here at the end of the week, but we are refusing to let winter back in. The flowers are popping, the lawn furniture and fountain have been uncovered, the first happy hour celebrated on the front porch. My relaxed shoulders tell the story, a permanent sly smile always on the lips. While I am able I must declare it: Life is Good.

A New Paradigm

This week's story caused me a big brain cramp trying to birth it.  It may be because it's more about my messy state of mind than the neat and pretty art I've been up to. Change, which I can't control, versus drawings and designs, which I can. I've interspersed the art for relief when you get tired of the words. Hope you don't get a brain cramp too.

When I was a public school educator back in the eighties, our school administration conducted a serious of lecture/workshops to introduce the faculty to some "new" social terminology (lifted from the field of scientific research): the paradigm. Simply stated, this is any philosophical or theoretical framework widely accepted as the norm. When you embrace the paradigm, you are "in the box." 

The goal was to acknowledge our current habits of reasoning and learning, and  to begin thinking "outside the box." This movement to new social structures is called a "paradigm shift." As I recall, we were instructed that a BIG ONE was happening in society.  The computer was starting to be everywhere, and for that and other reasons, our world was getting smaller.  Now we had to be on board to teach our students  the art of change.

Sketching at the mall with water soluble pen

Soon to be a victim of changing paradigms

At least that's how I recall it. Maybe I was doodling in the margins, and thinking about a guy named Fred, but I swear there were boxes and arrows and all kinds of lists of "what's in" and "what's out" and "what's about to be in and out."

That was about twenty five years ago (I gave up teaching about five years later, for numerous reasons I may talk about another day), and it's all really a blur except for the gut memory of confusion and boredom at these sessions. But in the end, a lot of change has come to pass in the way we think about and live our lives. This considerable shift in social structures has brought about what I believe is a big change in brain function as well. In those days, even with the prevalence of computers and video games, most of my interaction with people in my life was face to face, or at least ear to ear (with extended phone conversation.)  On the days that I couldn't get to my friends, we would talk in endless detail in cohesive phone chats.

Sketching on location: outdoor details (as seem through a window)

Just before the snow melted

Nowadays the phone almost never rings, and "chat" is barely more than instant text exchange. Most of my daily human interaction (outside that old school presence of a live in spouse) is done in tiny tidbits of short isolated postings over the Internet. As much as I love to death all the new people I am meeting and the possibilities of relationships that abound, it no longer has the same intense, messy personal connection of those pre-cyberspace days. I look at the sheer number of humans I talk to daily and then consider how many of them can be there for me in real life. What can be so comforting in theory (unlimited connection), fails to fulfill the real human need for physical proximity, eye contact, touch. "LOL" is definitely not the same as laughing together.

A box made from art to store small art journals

The bottom and inside of the box; a real, not theoretical one

And yet, if it weren't for this new "box,"  I wouldn't be talking to all of you, and I wouldn't be exploring my art which has become, in a very short while, the center of my life. I think I understand there is no going back and I wouldn't want to. So I've decided not to emphasize the negative aspects that come with change, but embrace what's good in it.

My most recent design in Contemporary Woven Boro, called "Blue Moon Heart"

Being aware of the box, I too can think outside. If I can help it, I will have a long connected life. It is far from over, and I intend to continue looking beyond the horizon where the best of the future will be. I'm going to follow that sun.