Back at the Barn

I went to Greece.  That solves the mystery ending of Michael:  Where did I go on vacation?  I had a fulfilling trip to Athens and the Aegean, and came home with lots of photos I'm currently editing to accompany some entertaining stories, one hopes.  My body is also recovering from the trip, since I'm not bouncing back as well as the last time I travelled to Europe 30 years ago.  Shouldn't surprise me but still, it has.

I'd like to write jolly anecdotes, beginning with my first TSA checkpoint in Portland; when I held up traffic unpacking liquids and removing shoes.

"Go ahead - I'm still getting my act together."

A young airport employee chuckeled behind me.  "Did you sai you're getting your act together?  Tee hee hee."

I guess that expression's gone the way of manners and the Do-Do Bird, but I was happy to make her smile.

"Do you have any tablets?"

The TSA officer was a little intimidating.  I'd done considerable research while packing since last July, and was careful to keep my teeny bottles of various liquids in an appropriately-sized clear plastic bag.  I also brought along the prescription for my muscle relaxers, but rather than packing entire bottles, I opted to pack my Excedrin Migraine and Ibuprofen in little plastic baggies, identified on pieces of blue Painter's tape, should anyone question.  I got scared.

"You mean medi-ca-tions?"

He was dumbstruck.  "No, Ma'am, elec-tron-ics..."

Yes, I did...why didn't he say so?  Words can have more than one meaning.  I was stopped or held up at EVERY checkpoint in whichever country.

"Do you have something sharp in there?"

"Tweezers, maybe...feel free to look."

She eventually tired of examining whatever it was from this backwards traveler who couldn't possibly come up with a decent smuggling strategy if my life depended on it. (Turned out a broach from my hatband fell off and landed, opened, in the bottom of the bag, and the pointy part was almost 3 inches long.)

"Can I pat down your right leg?"

"Sure, you can pat down the left one, too."  Can't remember my last 'date'.

"Can I see the bottom of your socks?"

"What's in your pocket,"  Bilbo?

"Step over here, please," quickly followed by a chorus of, "NO, not here..."

Even my vintage Clinique travel-brush, a tiny plastic thing which folds in on itself, had them scratching their heads.  I kept telling them to take a look, which usually prompted my, "Pass."

Or I can tell you about my Origami class on the cruise ship, where everyone's frog hopped forward except mine, which made an entire flip.

"Yours is drunk."  I shoulda been.  The next class had other shapes but the same damned frog, with the same result:  "It must be the way you press," (...it's backside to cause the forward motion).  I did my best and brought the blue one home.

But the instructor did admire the way I split my tulip's accordian stem and folded up the ends like leaves, I'll bet he uses that in the future.  I've wondered before about the possibility of being a craft-director on a cruise ship (like a friend from Puerto Rico), but then I'd have to deal with 'students' like me.

I thought the room stewards were impressed with my Origami and therefore left a cute towel-Swan on my bed; until I learned the harsh truth from other cruisers.

So I wanted to start writing about my trip like that, but ever since my return flight from Munich, my heart has been increasingly sick from news I've been deliriously ignorant of since April Fool's Day.

I sat next to a young fellow returning to Vancouver B.C., accompanied by the largest cat I've seen up close.  We primarily spoke pleasantries, I thought he sounded German; but it wasn't until our final approach that he explained he was from the Ukraine but had emigrated to Vancouver 5 years ago.

No, the cat belonged to his friend, who'd left the country with so many women and children, and took along her cat.  They stayed in Poland until she was able to go to Vancouver, but she had to leave her cat behind with friends.

So my seat-mate flew to Frankfurt, rented a car, drove to Poland, picked up the cat, drove back to Frankfurt, and was on the final leg homewards, whatta guy.  Thus far the cat had travelled just fine, and he assured me it was drugged for the 10 hour flight to B.C.  He was able to place the carrier on the seat between us, and while I'm not a cat-person, it was sweet and obviously loved.

What would YOU have said?  I expressed my sorrow about the war and asked after his family.  They were still in Kharkiv along with many friends; but no, they weren't planning on leaving because they owned a business and people were depending on them.

Congress had not yet approved the Foreign Aid package and I wanted to sink into my seat.

"I'm so sorry, and I'm sorry about our delay in helping."  He gently nodded and thanked me.  I was at a loss for words, and am SO happy now, I'm tearing up just remembering. Ukrainians are finally getting the help they so desperately need and which we so vehemently promised early on.  Remember, for the most part they're not fighters, so short of supplying troops it's the least we can do to help.  

But more and more, people are willing to turn their backs on doing the right thing or believing bold-faced lies spewed by megalomaniacs.  I came home to headlines like, "Moscow Marjorie," and "Hamas Touting Demonstrators as Our New Leadership."

How can that not turn your stomach?  How many high-schoolers in America would give their eye-teeth in order to attend Columbia, Yale, Brown and USC, God knows why?  Ivy League schools have an average of 10% of foreign students enrolled.  Why don't they first exhaust home-grown applicants of merit regardless of their ability to pay?  We ought to concentrate on advancing those with the highest IQs rather than the highest bank balance.  At least their 'quality' educations could be put to use HERE rather than taken abroad; perhaps agreeing to perform Goverment service for a certain number of years before heading for Wall Street or Silicon Valley.  Theoretically at least we'd ALL benefit. That's my version of America First.

I have feelings for Innocents on both sides of the Middle-East conflict, but it seems the Israeli's, like the Ukrainians, can use all the support they can get.  Enabling monsters like Hamas in any way is intolerable.  I don't believe the majority of university demonstrators are truly interested in solving the situation so much as wanting an excuse to become Agitators for Selfies or just plain anti-Semitic, of course they're insisting they're not.  I'm not buying it.

Why not demonstrate fiercely for the hungry and unhoused in our backyards?  If we can solve this problem, it'll help solve others such as crime, mental health and inequality, finally.  Why not volunteer for Feeding America or World Central Kitchen?  Jimmy Carter at 95 was still helping to build for Habitat for Humanity.  The only thing our embarassingly out-of-condition former president can manage is mocking President Carter, how rude.

Rather than pitching a tent on manicured college campus lawns, why not go down to Skid Roe and pitch a tent in solidarity with our own unfortunates being swept from view by insensitive City Counsels.  That's not a solution.

Quit hiding behind fashion-statement scarves if you can't even identify Yasser Arafat.  Are you truly proud for chanting, "From the River to the Sea," wrapped up like a terrorist and causing fellow classmates distress?   

Wait - this sounds familiar.  I think back to our Vietnam protests, buying MIA bracelets.  At least it was for our own sons, brothers and boyfriends.  Remember the photos from Kent State, and how our traumatized soldiers were greeted at airports, at home, anywhere in public, with distain?  Remember Hanoi Jane?  Hell, if Watergate happened today, do you think Nixon would have resigned?  Have we learned nothing?

No one has the right to minimize someone else's fears.  Twenty years ago, following the publication of Abu Ghraib photographs, I was subjected to people screaming insults at me, and one man actually spit on my table at an international art show, because I was representing the USA.  The anger directed my way during that week-long festival upset and scared me.  People might say, "They wouldn't have done anything to you," but I wouldn't bet on it; and was grateful the show organizers arranged for a Policeman to stroll by my table every half hour.  Which is one reason why I support Jewish students and can understand, in a very small sense, their justifiable, very real fears in the face of a an angry mob, excuse me, protestors.

I won't get started on the Right to Life issue, for I'll let younger women fight that fight for their daughters and granddaughters, of which I have none.  I have other gripes, but correct me if I'm wrong:  I haven't yet heard any proposal for conpensating medical costs; or monetary support for children women are forced to deliver; or mandatory vows from abortion opponents to adopt said Unwanteds.  If you have the money you can skirt the issue, once again condeming the underprivileged.  Come on, walk it like you talk it.

Ahhh, that feels better.  Now I can get on with my storytelling with a lightened heart.

Michael

By the time this is read I'll be on my way to the airport.  I haven't been on a BIG trip in 30 years, when I visited Tino's family in Holland and stopped in Germany to visit dear friends.

How times have changed:  I'm no longer in touch with my in-laws; Mary passed away not long after Tino; and Inga has advanced Alzheimers.  Then there was the boat-thing;  battling poverty; and finally the death of BC.  I've written about all this (for therapy), so have included links if you're a recent reader.

My progress has been bittersweet since 2022, but at least I've been feeling much better since last December, when heatache following BC's loss finally receded.  I thought it would never end.

Hoping to rediscover some of the confidence and vitality I felt in my 30's (before my life seemingly fell apart), I began to re-evaluate my focus and decide what truly interests me nowadays; and then tick off any unrelated 'to do' tasks I've placed on myself. 

Remaining a gourd artist because that's what I've done for 20-some years seems a lame reason to continue to chase my former level of accomplishment.  I can't paint like I used to.  It hurts my hands to hold the gourds and the paintbrushes, plus I've lost interest.  Nobody says I have to do something with my stock of bare gourds except me.  

Today I prefer photography.  I've got a terrific mirrorless camera, and I only live a block-and-a-half from a gorgeous shoreline.  Even my writing interests have changed...from focusing on the calamitous cruise on Ruff Life to...something else.

What's helped me most recently has been remembering Mom's encouragement and advice; words which nowadays emit from a TV Preacher.  I know, it's shocking.  Mom had countless witty expressions and anecdotes, but basically she tried to teach patience; keep good thoughts; and have a little faith.  I ignore the opening and closing prayers (and the marketing), but all I can say is his words lift me up because in ny view:

"The hardest thing about living alone is the lack of encouragement."

Mom also said we're never too old to learn, and so I know she'd be happy with my Tortoise-like progress.  And then this happened:

Recently, our park was having electrical work done and the power would be off for up to two days for most, if not all, of the park.  If the stars aligned the work could be completed in a day, but what are the odds?  Residents talked about it for weeks...how long...where in the park exactly...how can I make coffee?

Now you might assume that since we all live in RV's we're used to 'dry camping,' and most of us have done it; but not everyone, myself included, likes it at this age. 

Several people were opting to rent a room somewhere rather than deal with batteries and generators, and at the last minute I decided it was a perfect opportunity to take a road trip, since the weather was gorgeous and tourists haven't yet descended.

I headed south on coastal Highway 101 with no particular destination in mind, my favorite way to travel.  Ever since BC died, road trips have not appealed to me; so, being out of practice, I was curious how I'd fare.  I don't use GPS, Alexa or my cell phone; just keep the ocean on the right and stop when and where I want.

I hoped I'd find a place to stay with an ocean view, and by accident in Port Orford I did.  The desk clerk suggested a local place which served pizza, burgers, salads...said he'd eat there every night if he could.  It was still early so I dropped off my bags and continued down 101 to Gold Beach, as long as I was in the neighborhood.  In the 90's I would drive from Portland down the coast to visit Lee, now also passed; and I wondered if I'd recognize anything.

At the time there were sleepy little towns with modest seaside motels, nothing like today.  Only the Art-Deco bridges, almost 100 years old, and the Curry County Courthouse, where Lee first worked, looked familiar.

Back at Port Orford, I went to the recommended place for dinner.  A huge motorhome towing a car was parked in front.  I walked inside, it was 4:30.

The place was basically a long bar, with simple chairs and tables with plastic tablecloths.  It was kinda dark and empty except for some guy at the bar with his dog carrier, chatting with the woman behind the bar.  She asked if I'd like something to drink, they had wine and beer.

"Any liquor?  Or...wine and beer, ok, I'll have a Heineken."

I stood at the bar reading the menu, determined not to bolt. I looked around and eyed a tiny table for one with a view out the front window.  I normally would gravitate to such a spot - hiding from the rest of the world - but thought that would definitely seem un-friendly considering the place was empty, so I sat my como-se-llama on a barstool and ordered a Pepperoni and Jalepeno pizza.

The fellow at the bar, a little younger than me, I'd guess, was good looking and wore a ten-gallon hat, definitely my type in the old days.  Separated by 4 or 5 barstools, the fellow said something positive about the food; and after a couple silent minutes I said something about his dog.  The conversation was off and running.

For I change I didn't blurt my story from the get-go, but listened to his with an occasional bit of unsolicited advice:  like suggesting he not tell the medical examiner he doesn't trust the sheriff (who fooled with his ex-sister-in-law before his brother committed suicide by shooting hinself twice with a shotgun?) wasn't the best approach.  I can't make this up.

While chit-chatting, I wolfed down my pizza.  'Michael' wouldn't accept a slice, but feeling like a complete cow I gave him no choice and shoved a couple cold slices in front of him.  He reciprocated with a second Heineken, which I'm not used to drinking.

THAT taught me a valuable lesson, for before I was halfway finished, I was having trouble forming my words.  I was a bit wobbly heading for the car, so I stopped at a grocery store to sober up.  A heavy drinker at one time, my tolerance level has significantly lessened, just as well.

I was on Cloud Nine.  I had a great drive; felt totally comfortable being alone; and even had a cowboy flirt a little, tho' I wasn't interested.  But it was nice to find that I still have a little bit of It left.

Which brings me to my trip, an unexpected opportunity put forth by a friend.  I've become cautious of sharing my plans lest I jinx myself, so I'll only say I'm heading for one of the places I've painted on my shoes.  White Keds from Goodwill display a composite of places I've been and still hope to visit.  I'll be away a couple weeks and will post photos when I return, accompanying, I hope, some interesting stories.

So...so long...farewell...auf widersehen...goodbye!  I'm taking BC's memorial necklace so it'll still be Travels with Buttercup, wish me luck!

Horror Paintings

Towards the end of boat-life in Puerto Rico, I began painting gourds 4" and smaller (I enjoy detail work).  Here're my St Patrick's couple aren't they sweet?  For decades I've attempted to create 'realistic' faces -- repainting eyes and noses 4 or 5 times is not uncommon and always frustrating.  Why do I do this to myself?

I'm sure there are some initials associated with whatever's going on inside my head, but all I know is that I am persistent.  I'll work on something over and over, and over again, until I cry enough already!  I'm still not entirely pleased with the end result, but happier than my first attempt.  I'm sure that's true for many, if not all, artists.

Here are some examples:

No idea what I was thinking when I began designing this figure.  I was flat broke, hoping for a miracle to whisk me from my desperate circumstances; when I fell on The Buddha, a two-part documentary narrated by Richard Gere; shown on PBS but you can find it on YouTube.

(A self-taught artist, my proportions are always wrong; and because of my lazy-eye, everything I see is 2 degrees 'off' so I'm never centered.  That's true with my photography, too.  It all looks straight to me, but if everything seems a bit cockeyed, that's why.)

By the time I finished she looked like this (yes, it's supposed to be a 'she' - the young girl who offered Siddharta a bowl of rice when he was starving.

Here's the start of Pastor Chad, memorialized on a wall in Hope Village, the tiny-house community for the chronically homeless which he founded and ran...until being eventually tossed out by his own Board of Directors following an unfounded accusation from an LGBTQ person who felt slighted.  This was right after I moved from Eagle Point in 2022.

In a nutshell, Pastor Chad was accused of not being sympathetic to the Trans-community.  From what I witnessed over the course of 4 years, the worst I could imagine him advising would be, "Be certain before you do anything irreversible."  OMG!  He was eventually exonerated but the damage was done.  Funding dried up and grants were cancelled.

Pastor Chad has re-invented his philanthropic efforts and now focuses on helping a particularly poignant segment of the homeless population:  the elderly.

I'm happy for him but angry that had to happen to such a kind-hearted man.  Perhaps down the road it'll become apparent that he HAD to go through that in order for him to help those he's helping now.

Please don't slam my opinions.  I'm tired of being told that everything I've known is now insensitive, unacceptable or just plain wrong.

I went into the Post Office and saw someone new behind the counter.  Our old Post Master recently retired so I wanted to offer a Welcome; but I blurted out, "So, you're the new guy," before I could see that whatever it was, it had shorn hair, plucked eyebrows, pierced earrings and nondescript clothing.  I desperately looked for clues as to whether this individual was born male or female while fumbling for an apology.

"I'm sorry - I hate being called a 'guy,' too."  The more I spoke the worse I made things, but to (their) credit there was no chastisement.  I suppose everything should be said using 'Person,' but...

Goddammit!  I'm sick of not being sure - it was bad enough when I couldn't tell the difference between babies, but now with adults?  I used to look for an Adam's Apple-clue, but that can be either removed or covered.  Still, I'll try my best.

[This was to be a gift for Elizabeth Pitcairn, owner of the famed Red Violin.  She may not have been flattered by my final result (below), but it was surely better than this version.] 

A glutton for punishment, I continue to struggle with my paintings to this day.  No need to provide examples...they're pretty similar to what you see here.  At least I can honestly say not true to people who claim they have no artistic abilities for whatever reason.

If you really want to do something you can learn; all you need is Practice, Practice, Practice!

Lest you think these are the best things I've done, here's a link to my website with photos:  www.andreajansendesigns.com

So I'll keep persisting - in my artwork and in life.  Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Let's Hope for Civility

Nikki Haley was gracious as she bowed out of the Presidential race this morning; particularly considering how her rival rudely announced her donors were not welcome in the MAGA movement, you know who I'm talking about.  I haven't yet heard, but I'm sure (he) will be nasty towards Nikki, while sucking up to her supporters for some cold, hard cash for legal bills.

I've never been a fan of Sen. Kyrsten Sinema; she was annoying in her opposition to something or other; but I'm sorry to hear she's leaving Congress.  Just another decent politician sick of what Capitol Hill has become.  The same goes for Mitt Romney and Mitch McConnell, plus those who lost their reelection bids.  We may not miss their views, but we'll certainly miss their civility.

Name-calling is so low, it's truly embarassing to hear it from someone bucking for the highest position in the nation.  What would you tell your child or grandchild if they came home crying after being a target of such rude behavior?  Gesu bambino!

As for the Incumbent:  beware shouts of, "He's Too Old!"  I don't know about you, but I'd prefer a 'seasoned' surgeon tackling my ticker over an over-eager Intern any day.  Old People have been belittled in American society for generations, compared to other cultures, you know it's true.  Boomers are being discounted more and more, so it's only a matter of time before our rights are reversed or significantly cut.  Handicap Parking will be the first to go, they want those spaces.

When, exactly, IS too old?  I've seen 90-year-olds sharper and in better physical condition than 50-year olds, so who has the right to arbitrarily assign Infirmity an age?

Tomorrow will be President Biden's final State of the Union speech before November's election.  I hate to think of the boo's and cat-calls from younger members on the right or left, you know who I mean.  Emboldened by Super Tuesday's results, will they deride their 'elders' who, maintaining respect at least for the Institution, try to shush them?

It's going to be a long 8 months.  If we all practice Civility despite our differences, perhaps our leaders will be shamed into following suit.  Everybody's heard, "Take the High Road", and promises to bring the country together.  Now's the time to practice what we preach.

It's Heading Your Way

We generally have some precipitation here on the Oregon Coast, with temps averaging nowadays in the 40s and 50s.  As the expression goes,

"Oregonians Don't Tan --- We Rust"

Following rain-and-wind storms for the past 4 days, I expected things to lighten up, but no.  Here's a shot from this morning.  Luckily, I only have to walk as far as the building to get to work.

Stay safe, everyone!

Pissed about Michigan Politics

I'm trying to be more compassionate of the killings in the Gaza Strip, but then something happens over here to derail that.  Friends and strangers alike may be shocked or disappointed in my views, but as long as I'm not spewing hate-speech, I am still entitled to express an unpopular POV.

I'm angry with the Muslim population in Michigan who successfully advocated voting 'uncommitted' in yesterday's Democratic primary.  They're upset we're supporting Israel and haven't stopped the war.  From what I've gathered, Presdient Biden is walking a fine line, hoping not to push Netanyahu over the edge by threatening too hard for a permanent cease-fire; while supporting  Israel AND  Palestine with two-state proposals and financial aid.  I don't know why people think any President is God, able to wave his hand and make everything better.

They're threatening to either not vote for President Biden, or vote for the other guy who's promising another Muslim ban, go figure.  Either way it's at the expense of the rest of the Democrats in the other 49 states.  Indeed, because over 100,000 cast Uncommitted, organizers elsewhere are encouraged.  If they throw the election, they'd better not complain when they're targeted, that's all I can say. I know, that wasn't very nice; but can you say, without a shadow of a doubt, that'll never happen?

I'll admit, I'm more intimidated by Palestinian demonstrators wrapped in their scarves, faces hidden, than pro-Israeli supporters. What are they about to do that they feel the need to cover up like terrorists?  Maybe it's the way news videos are edited. 

But my bias began earlier.  You saw the same campus From the River to the Sea bullshit as I did.  That doesn't sound like people trying to get along to me.  Closer to home, I watched Palestinian  demonstrators block traffic on the Portland airport exit around Christmastime.  They didn't care who was inconvenienced; they wanted to make their point and to hell with the rest of us.  Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindis, Buddhists and others, simply trying to catch a flight to enjoy loved ones.  Seems to me if the demonstrators wanted to make a point they could have gone to the Capital in Salem, or the Portland Major's office.  It happened elsewhere as well, but what did they accomplish except to piss-off people who hadn't been particularly pissed before?

We don't have a huge Palestinian population in Portland...about 4%, so I questioned the underlying motives of many of the demonstrators, who I suspect were actually 'outsiders' intent on causing trouble.  I could be wrong.

I also question why so many Palestinians are in Michigan anyway, the climate's certainly not the draw. Were they recently fleeing poverty and persecution in Gaza and the West Bank, just as those attempting to cross the southern border?  Or have their families been here a long time, like my own immigrant grandparents?  Kinda biting-the-hand, dontcha think?

What if we ALL protested and demanded that injustices against our forefathers be redressed?  Going back how far?  The way we're all mixed up, and I mean that in the nicest way, no one would be exempt.

Now lest you think I'm a total racist, I do happen to feel that Netanyahu could have done things a bit differently to prevent such high casualties.  But since I didn't experience 9/11 like most of you here in the States (I lived on a boat in Puerto Rico), I can't really empathsize with the range of emotions which that disaster provoked.  I suspect it's what the Israelis feel now; except they're also waiting for the return of hostages, while we only had to dig out the dead.

Then we went to war in Iraq, our country's anger lashing out. Looking for non-existent weapons of mass destruction, tearing up the country, isn't that what happened?  Did other countries try to tell us not to go down that road, but we were determined to exact revenge?  Was that right or wrong?

I would like to pose a hypothetical for you:  If some other minority population...let's say Somalians...or Uyghurs...or Swedes...suddenly threatened to throw the election if they didn't get what they wanted, what would you say?  It's the threatening I object to more than the reason behind it.

I am neither Jewish nor Muslim...just a sideliner; but my sentiments are likely shared by others (not necessarily for the same reasons).  So my purpose for this post is to share my reasoning a bit, to help people on the other side of the fence understand why people like me feel the way (we) do.  Rightly or wrongly.