Super Souper Bowl — O/N it 13

One of my favorite annual events is the “Souper Bowl” hosted by the ceramics program of Teton Arts Council.  It happens in early-mid November each year and seems to symbolize the transition from autumn to winter.

It’s a clever and delightful twist on a giant potluck. First, many volunteers create delectable belly-warming concoctions, filling tables full of slow-cookers and crockpots containing soups with descriptions like “vegan curry rice” and “bean-free chili” and “lemon chicken ravioli.”

Then, volunteers fill the entire City Hall entry way with a veritable smorgasbord of locally made ceramic bowls of every size and description, from brightly-colored to square to serious-looking. Every person who attends can choose their favorite bowl to use for their choices of soup that night– and then can take it home.

We have a whole collection of bowls from the last four years. Last year, Peter made soup; this year, he’s in Philly this week, so I’m on task Thursday to cook and take admission money at the bowl table.

Prizes are given for the best soup; the local music is always entertaining, kids love it, and 460 Bread donates their wonderful rolls. As a fundraiser it’s both affordable and fun — my favorite kind of community evening.

It’ll be a fun night.  See you there!

What a legacy — O/N it 12

Today would have been my mother’s 96th birthday. I found three special things to share in her honor.

The first is this photo, which I first saw when my cousin Laura Hall shared it at the “Uphoff Girls Only” reunion several years ago in Colorado.  No specifics on it, no idea where or exactly when it was taken: Laura’s slug just says “Eileen 1940s Laundry.” Isn’t she a cutie,though.  I love her big grin. I think this one’s quite a classic!

Secondly, I found a blog posted on CruiseCritic.com quite a few years ago; I’d saved the page (not even sure how!) but I’m really glad I did since it’s no longer available on-line. I couldn’t find the passenger’s name, but I’ve cut and pasted part of what I saved. It describes Mom’s involvement in the Holland America “Gifts of Love” program (we’re absolutely certain that she’s the Eileen mentioned in the copy).

Day 9: Thursday, At Sea

It’s the second to the last day of my cruise, and I’m running out of time to try out some of the onboard activities… I scan the daily program, looking for something suitable. I decide to check out one of the more curious listings in the program. It’s called “Gifts of Love Yarn Distribution.” I assume this has something to do with knitting, a skill I have never acquired, although I did make a mean macrame pot holder in the Girl Scouts. I’ve seen some cheerful ladies knitting in the Explorer’s Lounge, and wonder if this is some type of knitting club.It turns out, the activity is a charitable endeavor. For the past several years, passengers on the Grand World Voyage have volunteered to knit items for needy children around the world. The beneficiary this year is an orphanage in Istanbul, Turkey, and Holland America donates yarn to anyone willing to knit for the orphans. A group of four ladies sitting in high-backed leather chairs spends the day knitting in the Explorer’s Lounge.They call themselves the “Happy Hookers,” and one of them, Eileen, knitted over 62 blankets on last year’s world cruise, along with 100 hats. She has completed 200 hats thus far on this year’s trip. When I chat with her this afternoon, she is knitting away, her hands flying over bright yellow yarn. Her companions, Trudy, Nelly and Florence, are doing the same. They’re all encouraging assistant cruise director, Vuk, as he busily completes a brightly colored blanket. “He’s a ‘happy hooker,’ too,” says Eileen. The ladies, who rarely get off the ship, believe all the work is worthwhile. “Last year, the ship invited the children onboard. They serenaded us, and then we fed them ice cream in the Lido Restaurant. You should have seen the gratitude on their little faces,” Trudy says, with a smile. I promise that if I have time, I’ll return for some knitting lessons. “You know where to find us,” says Eileen. ….

Lastly, I just refound this photo of Mom (middle right center — she’s the only one in a black blouse) and the group of “Happy Hookers” from one of the cruises.

I don’t know specifically where this handcrafted bounty went, but I *do* know that she wrote us a postcard one year to say that what her group had created was all going to the children in an orphanage in Dubrovnik — and I loved knowing that when we were in Croatia in May. Just imagine, someone I saw or met there, in 2013, could have been a youngster who, years before, had been warmed by a blanket or hat that my very own mother had made….

This morning (while I was trying to find the link to the CruiseCritic piece), I saw a note online that said Holland America stopped the “Gifts of Love” program in 2010 because the gift-giving became too much paperwork for the company. Sad.

From doing laundry on the porch right on through to hand-making blankets and hats on the cruise-line, what marked my mother’s life was “Service with a Smile.”  Now that’s a legacy to aspire to!

Subbing — O/N it 11

Being in front of a classroom as a substitute teacher is always a learning experience. The last day I subbed, at Teton High in mid-October, I decided to capture bits of the day, and found inspiration on several levels — from the students, from various signs, and from staff and teachers.

I always leave knowing a little bit more about the way young people see the world — and about myself.

This hallway poster, above a classroom door, encourages punctuality; in fact, where just about everything else runs on “Teton Valley time” — it seems like just about every event begins at least ten minutes late around here — at the high school, the bells ring right when they are supposed to, and everyone hustles between classes.   My travel-agent parents would have approved.

I loved that this second one was on a classroom door, rather than in a locker room; the message, to go outside one’s own expectations, certainly applies to a wider audience than athletes.
And this one, a reminder to limit personal destructive behaviors, outlines expectations of every student.

Every time I’m at one or another of the schools, I’m struck by something new. This time, it was an over-sized mural painted on the main wall between the office area and the cafeteria.
I asked one of the teachers if it had special significance: no, she said, just the idea of breaking free to find what’s in the world outside…. I liked that, too.

Be sure to notice it next time you’re there; it’s opposite the doors to the gym and just past where the classroom corridors veer off to the north and south.

When you’re a sub, you rely a lot on school personnel.  They are incredibly helpful about procedures and AV problems and the schedule and answering general questions. I don’t sub that often, so I’m always glad to see the smiling faces at the THS office; neither Regina Beard nor Trudy Treasure were that excited about me taking a picture of them, but I caught them in action, anyway. And teacher Rose Hendricks helped in a pinch about how to deal with the classroom computer.

And lastly, I remember just how vulnerable we are in the early parts of our lives….. and that a little growing up goes a long way. On that beautiful fall Friday, I had one class of seniors (Economics) and two classes of sophomores (World Issues).  The lesson plans provided by Troy Miskin weren’t that different but students’ attitudes and the content they prepared certainly were. The seniors were attentive, interested, engaged on a higher level intellectually — the underclassmen — well, not necessarily so much so. Here’s the last class rarin’ to be dismissed at 3:09 pm.
Oh, it doesn’t seem possible that I roamed a high school’s halls as a student more than 40 years ago!  But I’m glad I’ve had the chance to rub shoulders with those in local academia at least every so often.

Perhaps subbing is as much a humbling experience as it a learning one.

Desert delights — O/N it 10

I had such a great visit with my sisters in Arizona in September! And it was a gorgeous time to travel there.

I have always loved the Southwest, and it had been a long time since I’d enjoyed the particular light and colors of the desert environment.

On an afternoon when we’re having snow and wind (admittedly with a few bursts of bright sunshine) here — well, it’s nice to again see some of these things, then growing in Tubac,  from garden roses to potted plants, plenty of sidewalk cactus and even a palm tree.

I also especially appreciate the play of shadows on building walls.

So lovely!

Re-touched, O/N it 9

Two weeks ago, I mentioned to Betty VanNewkirk, a dear friend who has recently moved back to Teton Valley, that I always carry a small notebook with me when we travel.  I showed her the one I picked up recently and had shared with her that I was concerned it wasn’t big enough for my scribbles and that it wouldn’t last our next three-week trip.

Voila, the next day, when I returned home from a trip to town, I found a package of two small Moleskin journals sitting on the kitty box on our porch. The paper is even lined, just like I prefer.

Moved to tears, I called Betty to say thanks. I was pretty sure that she was my secret angel. She thought maybe I wouldn’t know it had been her!

Here they are, along with the (banged-up and full) tiny composition book I used last fall on our South American trip.

I promise not to use my blog to thank every nice gesture, but this one of Betty’s, like the rocks from Susan Lykes that I wrote about yesterday, deserves special notice…. because these gifts represent such consideration and careful listening and caring. But then again, isn’t that ALWAYS what “surprise gifts” are all about?

Big and small, they matter all.

After I hit publish on my last blog post, I had immediately remembered so many OTHER people to recognize and to thank for artwork stuff. And this morning I woke up thinking of so many heartwarming surprises that are NOT jewelry-and-junk related — starting with the journals from Betty.

I am incredibly blessed to have so many wonderful, generous people in my life.

How to thank each of them? I’m not exactly sure. But what a wonderful “problem” to try to solve!

Touched — O/N it 8

Surprise gifts are always a pleasure, and I’ve had some real doozies!  Topping the list: the set of rings Peter gave to me the holiday we spent in Greece (I thought we’d agreed to forego exchanging presents). I think my jaw dropped nearly to the sidewalk, when in the most romantic spot imaginable, in the shade of the Acropolis on Christmas Eve, he pulled a treasure box from his jacket!

Other surprise gifts aren’t nearly as dramatic but just as welcome. On Wednesday, at the strategic planning session of the Community Foundation of Teton Valley, my friend and fellow board member Susan Lykes pulled a Zip-loc bag from her purse for me; it was full of little rocks she’d collected for me on a recent fishing trip to Alaska.

Here they are. The only big one was distinctively heart-shaped. All of them had stripes or markings that Susan thought would be nicely put to use in my jewelry and junk art pieces.

Tough to see the detail and various textures in the photo, but trust me, each one is unique.

So thoughtful!

But this isn’t the first bunch of things from Susan; she’s also brought me a slew of precious seashells from Florida, gathered while she and husband Mayo were at the Lykes’ family beach-house there. But shells are lightweight and easy to carry: stones, not so much so!

Nor is Susan the only one who has contributed items for my artwork over the years.  Both Joan and I started making different kinds of art pieces with costume jewelry that had belonged to our mom. It was a way to honor Mother’s memory and assemble something incredibly special from the memories…..I’ve simply expanded it from that original idea.

Our employees found me things. So have my sisters, and Rusty, too. And it was always a fun day at Dark Horse Books when someone walked in and said, sometimes shyly, “I have something for you, if you want it.”

These surprises came from a host of friends and customers — Carole Flaherty, Janna Rankin, Erica Burns, Joyce Zajac, Jeannette Boner, LaVon Grandy (especially poignant as some of them had belonged to her mother Bertha Gillette), from the now-gone Carolyn Kasnak, the then-newly arrived Mona Monroe, to mention a few. I apologize for not listing the names of others.

I’ve received special boxes of shiny buttons, Mardi Gras garlands, a fishing tackle with sorted beads, a basketful of earrings, strings of necklaces (some falling apart from frayed fittings but all still beautiful), wedding cake decorations, tiny kids toys, a beat-up brown bag of old keys, and much more.

It was always like Christmas to hear the particulars about what was inside.

I especially love the feeling of connection I have when I find the absolutely-perfect piece and place it on a work in progress. The person who gave me the bit becomes part of the story for the recipient of the finished frame, tin, or whatever I happen to be working on. Put them all together and even the smallest thing is transformed.

Thank you, again, Susan, for thinking of me and carrying this precious cargo all the way back to Teton Valley for me!

And to anyone out there who would like to take part of the ultimate in upcycling, well,  start me a small container (a plastic bag that closes works especially well) and just throw any piece of jewelry or junk you had thought about pitching into the garbage into the container instead!  Let me know when it’s full, and we’ll figure out a way to get it to me.

I know I’ll be once again touched by the effort, and surprised, too!

Fall, falling — O/N it 7

The snow predicted for last night came, but only to the upper elevations. Table Mountain is already well-covered, what looks like its flat surface (but is actually a steep scree slope) lies buried.

This view shows how socked in it was this morning to our East; what looks like the silhouetted mountains is actually cloud cover over their tips, and you can’t make out Table’s distinctive shape against the still gray crags of most of the Tetons, as you can when it’s clear.

I loved to see such a vivid condensation trail as well — one of my favorite indicators of the magic of our technological world and that someone, today, is traveling somewhere exciting….

Frankly, I was delighted to wake up to the still-green leftovers of our barely-there lawn.

We had plenty of wind overnight, though: this morning I am encouraged by these leaves on the aspen trees in front of our porch. They are so stubborn to take flight!

They can’t “know” the inevitability of their fate.  The kitty’s bowl is testament to just how littered our front porch was with them today.

We’ve also had many freezing nights over the last month, evidenced by the fact that we’ve already swapped out Sweeter’s regular bowl for the plug-in one with the heater.  I’m glad I was home today to empty it of its organic matter and refill it for her with fresh water.

She didn’t seem too worried about anything, though.

On this, what might be our last day of Indian summer (judging by the clouds gathering to the west), our little black cat is perfectly content to sit on her towel and blanket atop her box in the somewhat-warmish sunshine.

“What?” it looks like she’s saying. “Let me enjoy this moment won’t you?”

Yes, I will.

This has always been one of my favorite times of year, and this autumn has been a particularly noteworthy one here in Teton Valley.  In what can be one of the  most divisive places (it seems) on earth, the local population joins together to appreciate the beauty of the colors, the absolutely brilliant days, and just how many of them we’ve had.

Peter and I went for a good long walk out in the fields to the east of our house yesterday afternoon — a great way to cap this about-to-end season.

I see on the national weather that my cousins in Kansas could be having trouble in the shape of tornadoes today.

Whatever conditions you find yourself in, on this final Monday in October in Monday, take good care.

Making the case, brilliantly — O/N it 6

As a kid, on hot summer days I loved taking my bike down the hill behind our house to the little library tucked on one side of Cole Shopping Center. I had some sort of carrier for the books I’d check out; although I don’t remember its shape or color, a clear muscle memory remains, of carefully stacking my treasures so they’d all fit inside for the ride home. I’d be back in just a few days to find something new to absorb my long afternoons and open my world, far away from our house on Foxcroft Road.

It wasn’t long, however, before I started acquiring my own collection of books. A school vendor, Scholastic I think, offered some kind of deal where purchasing books from them would earn points that could be “spent” on free books. Just my kind of thing! That was the beginning of my own personal and lifelong desire to not just read books but to acquire them myself.

Nonfiction and reference books on the main floor, and my reading chair, where I also knit, watch TV, and occasionally do artwork.

Luckily I found, fell in love with, and married someone who, as a young boy in Worland, Wyoming, devoured every Hardy Boys mystery (and much more) in *his* local library.

Our mutual appreciation of words eventually led to our bookstore business. More importantly, it is a hallmark of our relationship and indeed, our lives together.

So we have our very own library.  It sits 20 feet away from where I write this, one of the many additions to our original log cabin, on the flats north of Driggs, in an alfalfa field with a beautiful view of the Tetons.

I’m blessed to be surrounded by books.  But I’m often on the quest for something that’s not yet on our shelves.

In the last ten days, even in my small rural area, I’ve visited (and checked out books from) three public libraries. These institutions are in two states — Jackson and Alta in Wyoming, and Victor, Idaho, a mile from Rusty’s house. Speaking of miles, my cross-border literary consumption covers about 550 of them;  I just received a book via Wyoming’s inter-library loan system (from Laramie) of a title strongly recommended by a avid-reader friend (author Cort Conley, director of literature for the Idaho Commission on the Arts) in Boise.

My good friend Eva Dahlgren — former longtime Dark Horse employee who has been a fulltime librarian for something like eight years now — told me this week about a piece by author Neil Gaiman. The essay’s all about libraries and the importance of reading for kids, and adults, even in this techno age (here’s the link to it).

Wow, struck such a responsive chord in me! In seconds, it took me back to those childhood bike rides in Cheyenne.

The title pretty much says it all: Neil Gaiman: Why our future depends on libraries, reading and daydreaming.

If  you don’t get the point from that, the subtitle goes even farther:  A lecture explaining why using our imaginations, and providing for others to use theirs, is an obligation for all citizens.

We have three shelves like this one along both the north and south walls of the mezzanine. This is our collection of travel books of all types.

Just one of the quotes she called to my attention:  According to Eric Schmidt of Google, every two days now the human race creates as much information as we did from the dawn of civilisation until 2003. That’s about five exobytes of data a day, for those of you keeping score. The challenge becomes, not finding that scarce plant growing in the desert, but finding a specific plant growing in a jungle. We are going to need help navigating that information to find the thing we actually need. Libraries are places that people go to for information.

If that blip doesn’t make you want to read Gaiman’s whole essay — it takes ten minutes, max — here’s one that jumped off the page to me (and maybe explains, better than I ever could, why I still love to read a great novel): Fiction can show you a different world. It can take you somewhere you’ve never been. Once you’ve visited other worlds, like those who ate fairy fruit, you can never be entirely content with the world that you grew up in. Discontent is a good thing: discontented people can modify and improve their worlds, leave them better, leave them different.

The center section, fiction, on the west wall of the mezzanine. Peter built this giant shelving unit while I was traveling in Asia seven years ago.

That’s the bottom line for me.

I know that reading has made me better, made me different.

May today you encourage a child to read, pick up a book to inspire yourself, or maybe sit down to write a few lines of your own.

 

These three photos, for those who have wondered what our library looks like, provide some views of it. Trust me, it’s oh so much better in person!  And when we’re gone from this world, I’m guessing our books will end up — where else — in a library.

Honoring Emory O/N it 5

My dear father-in-law, Emory J. Anderson, would have turned 89 a couple days ago, and I couldn’t let his birthday go unnoticed.

Decided to share a favorite photo of him — at the tiller of some sailboat, of course. From the type of wheel and instrument configuration, this vessel is NOT Crystalship (the Cal-43 we owned and lived on in Seattle in the late ’80s), but Em loved that particular time of our lives and we shared some lovely times on the water in the Pacific Northwest.

He’s certainly in his element in this picture: without doubt, this is the epitome of an updated version of Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea, isn’t it?

As a very young man, he served in the Merchant Marines, right at the end of World War II, and passed on his affection for all things boat-y to Peter.

We also shared a love of words, a passion for history, and a good dose of wanderlust.

On land or on the sea, I know he cared, deeply, about just every living creature that ever came his way — not just Rusty or his sons, his true treasures, but also those of us who joined the family in one way or another. Even the four-legged types, rabbits, dogs, kitties, even a sheep and a cow (and these last two were in suburban Ohio!)  After 30-plus years as an Anderson, I still love hearing the family stories about the critters they adopted over the years.

Steadfast and stalwart, that’s how I remember Emory best. His wry grin was often hidden in whiskers, but I think often of how he always contributed to any conversation with his curiosity and vast life experience.

Em was a dear soul, and holds a special place in my heart. I hope he’s at peace, enjoying his cruise through heaven — and maybe even a slice of birthday cake.

FYI: I have other terrific photos of Emory, from our wedding, on a beach digging clams, and in Victor, in three “Oldies but Goodies” albums on my Facebook page.

Yet another book list O/N it 4

Blaire Kribs, a bookstore customer friend who’s moved from Teton Valley, posted this on FB this week, and although I already shared it there, I think it’s worth a few more comments. After all, talking about books has always been a joy and one of my best ways to connect to others….!

The map and the accompanying list show “the most famous book set in each state,” (or at least in one person’s opinion) published by Business Insider.

What I find most interesting is the depth of literature written across the country’s history pulled together in this one list. It includes short books, epic tomes, stuff for kids, stuff for young adults, nonfiction, classics, fairly new titles, scary ones, tame ones — well, you get the idea. They run the gamut of tastes, subjects, length and genre.

Choose two randomly and you might be surprised at what turns up. Consider these pairings…..Twilight and Uncle Tom’s Cabin; Into Thin Air and My Antonia; Little House in the Big Woods and The Laramie Project; The Shining and The Jungle. Wow.

Some would certainly argue with the book selection state by state — even several of my local well-read friends were surprised to see Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson as the book chosen for Idaho. (She’s much better known for Gilead, which won the Pulitzer — but it wasn’t set here.)

But to me using a list like this is just a starting point, a little like standing in front of the racks at a bookstore or library and hunting up something new. The first one (or what was recommended) might not be your choice, but spend just a little more time and you’ll find just the right thing.

Haven’t read them all of course, but this collection *does* include some of my all-time favorites. Reading over this list inspires me to REREAD several — and to search out those I’m unfamiliar with. Not today, though; it’s too beautiful a day to spend buried in a book, and I have many other things to accomplish today. But winter’s coming, and there’s not much better than a good book by the woodstove. it’s always terrific to have something new to look forward to, isn’t it?

Happy reading!

PS. Here’s the list only, for those who don’t want to use the link.