Sunday, August 11, 2013

Facing into that last journey . . .

A friend's husband has an incurable disease, and he's a little less strong every day. A photo she posted on her blog shows him resting into himself, still able to talk, but his voice is softer every day. She said she didn't know what to do. She knows his death approaches, but she doesn't know how to prepare for that last breath, that last goodbye.

The simple truth is that we are not prepared to let go of those we love, and we each must find our own way. Some are cradled with religious belief. Some have strong families. Some face the death of a loved one alone.

I can only share what I learned when my sister's husband died two years ago.

First, he was cared for at home until that was impossible.

At hospice, my sister moved into his room. She was with him every day and every night. She held his hand, and she comforted him. Family and friends came to say their farewells. On the very last day, two cousins he had been close to came with their guitars. His last twenty-four hours, he was surrounded by all the songs he loved all his life, my sister by his side.

A large, public memorial service comforted us all.

At his wish, he was cremated. His 'cremains' rested in my sister's night stand for over a year until she was ready to let go. They had talked of scattering his ashes in the mountains or at sea; either would have been acceptable.

About a year later, my sister and I drove into the mountains one morning, past the nature trails and picnic areas, high into the mountains where the sweep of the valley could be seen far below. She carried his cremains in a backpack, and we walked up a narrow mountain road.

She wasn't sure where she would stop or what she would do next. Suddenly, his container fell from the backpack with a thud.

"He's telling me this is the place," said my sister.

We walked off road and found a flat open space encircled by pine trees, with a vista of the mountains and the valley below. A quiet ceremony with burial and prayers followed. My sister and I stayed in that place until it seemed right to leave.

I like to think of him in that special place. He was well loved and that's the memory I hold dear.

When I shared my experiences with friends, I was surprised by how many people I knew had quietly done the same -- simply scattering the ashes as their loved ones wished. State laws are inconsistent, so research is needed. Permission is also needed if you plan to bury on private land. According to the National Cremation Society, about half of all people in the United States now prefer cremation. Some families elect to bury the ashes; some keep them. And about one-third scatter the ashes of their loved one. As we did.

Trail near Anthropological Museum,
University of British Columbia, Vancouver (Camp)
I haven't feared death for a long time, perhaps since that day, some 40 years ago, when I hit a patch of ice, the car twirled around, and I slammed into a bank, half ejected, with the car on top of me. What saved me that day was that bank of mud I landed on. But I remember that moment of twirling, the vista of the mountains serene, the blue sky above. I remember thinking my life had been beautiful, each day, and it was enough.

Now retired, grateful each day for husband, family, and grandchild, I cherish each day.



Resources:

Cremation Solutions. "Scattering Ashes -- Laws & Regulations." 2009. http://www.cremationsolutions.com/Scattering-Ashes-Laws-Regulations-c108.html


Lovejoy, Bess. "Cremation is On the Rise But Where to Put the Ashes?" Time. June 13, 2013. Online: http://ideas.time.com/2013/06/13/cremation-is-on-the-rise-but-where-to-put-the-ashes/

Saturday, August 03, 2013

Travels with Paul Kane . . . in 1846.

While doing research on the artist Paul Kane, I found this lovely 14-minute video, "Paul Kane Goes West." The film highlights Kane's paintings and sketches made over a three-and-a-half trip across Canada to Fort Vancouver and Fort Victoria between 1846-1850.

What intrigues me most is that Kane travelled over 3,000 miles to observe and record Native Americans throughout Canada and in the Pacific Northwest. Many helped him along the way; several tribes invited him to sit in on various ceremonies as his artistic talent had, they believed, magical properties. 

Paul Kane c. 1850 (Wikipedia)
Kane had met the famous American artist George Catlin in Europe and was inspired by Catlin's argument that Native American culture was disappearing. 

Without money, somehow Kane persuaded George Simpson, the head of the Hudson's Bay Company, to sponsor his trip west. Simpson originally had reservations that Kane could handle the hardships of the trip, but commissioned several works from Kane and later helped Kane publish his book in London. 

Interestingly, Kane lost his eyesight and died rather young, at 61, but not before marrying, settling down in Toronto, and fathering four sons. 

While the sharp contrast between the diary Kane kept on his journey and his later published 'official' recounting of his travels has led some to suggest ghost writers rewrote much of his original diary, I was able to find Kane's travel book online here

Paul Kane. The Wanderings of an Artist among the Indians of North America from Canada to Vancouver's Island and Oregon through the Hudson's Bay Company's Territory and Back Again. London: Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans & Roberts (1859). This book reproduces many of Paul Kane's vivid paintings and sketches of peoples and lands now difficult to envision.

Also, Diane Eaton and Sheila Urbanek's Paul Kane's Great Nor-West,Vancouver: UBC Press, 1995, presents and analyzes his paintings, sketches, and writings. What an amazing journey.



                     

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Travel plans shift in time and place . . .

I thought we'd be traveling in August.

But we may  not go afar.

Our dearest daughter has fallen, broken her ankle badly, and will be immobile for about three months -- or so the doctors say. So, travel plans are shelved. For now.

Instead, I'm thinking of hosting a few travel blogs, perhaps one or two a week, to those places I hope to go one day.

My primary research interests remain: Scotland, Tasmania, and here in the states, the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada. Of course my lens is curiously set at mid 19th Century, but if I can't go physically, perhaps online will do to get a sense of the colors and shapes of the landscape and perhaps a bit of the history as well.

What do you think? Any locations to add to the list? Memories of places once visited you'd like to visit again? Should I invite others to guest blog?

I'm remembering a crowded pier, sea lions basking in early morning light, somewhere south of Neskowin and Newport. Hot coffee before driving further south. Flower gardens and then the redwoods.




Thursday, July 25, 2013

Planning for a Sea Change . . .

Later in August, we'll be traveling for just a week to 10 days. A little camping to try out the new tent. And if it's too hot, we'll stay in air conditioned hotels. At this point, we're swinging down through Washington to visit friends in Portland, maybe over to the Olympic Peninsula, then back up to Seattle, maybe to see a Mariner's game by August 25. That's pretty specific.

 This time, the stops along the way are my job. As I finish the summer by finishing up two major writing projects, the next book beckons. Set some time between 1842-1845, the characters from the McDonnell clan will come to the Pacific Northwest, just as the first wagon train arrives in Oregon. Just as British and American interests collide. So my list of places to stop so far include:


  •  Fort Vancouver National Historical Site (Oregon and Washington), the headquarters of the Hudson's Bay Company where English and Chinook jargon were the primary languages, where the McDonnell saga began so long ago when I saw a sign saying Scots, Hawaiians and Native Americans worked here.
  • Fort Nisqually (DuPont, Washington, near Tacoma), the first trading post on the Puget Sound, where John Flett emigrated in 1841 from the Red River settlement in Manitoba (too late for this exhibit).
  • Fort Astoria on the Lower Columbia (Astoria, Oregon), used between 1830-1848 by the Hudson's Bay Company as a salmon fishery. Tight ties here between Hawaiians, Americans, and Brits. Excellent background here on early history. Maybe camping at Fort Stevens State Park or at Fort Columbia (both part of Lewis & Clark historic sites).
  • Fort Langley and Fort Victoria, both in British Columbia, probably not possible this trip.
  • Fort Spokane. A small museum and camping here, just 32 miles west of Spokane, near Davenport.
  • Sequim. I still remember our last visit here, found a great Thai restaurant, Sawadee Thai Cuisine, with traditional black rice pudding.
  • Olympic Peninsula. What could be better on such a trip than hiking in the Olympic Peninsula? Hre's a resource page on Native Americans and the Olympic Peninsula.

Also useful:

Anything related to artist Paul Kane who, with the permission of the Hudson's Bay Company, traveled to Fort Vancouver and Fort Victoria from 1846-1848. I'm fascinated by his painting of Mt. St. Helens, which erupted in 1847. See this wonderful book, Paul Kane's Great Nor' West by Diane Eaton and Sheila Urbanek -- and an online gallery of his paintings/sketches.

Night Eruption, Mt St Helens (Paul Kane, 1847)


Native Peoples of Oregon Need much more here. I'm remembering a special performance somewhere along the coast that we attended about a decade ago thanks to Sandy and Peter Jensen that featured story telling and dancing. Maybe the Tillicum Cruise out of Seattle would work as a start. And there's the University of Oregon Museum in Eugene. Here's an exceptionally helpful travel guide to Native Americans in Washington State

Northwest Coast Hawaiians and the Hudson's Bay Company and this useful timeline showing Hawaiian presence on the Pacific Northwest coast. Found a reference to Fort Spokane and Hawaiians! Exciting conclusion to this morning's research: Downloaded James Ho's Untold Fragments of Hawaii's History

Festivals this summer in Washington Parks and in Tacoma on August 11, the 7th annual "In the Spirit: Northwest Native American Arts Festival" (Washington State History Museum).  

So much for trip planning. I think it's easier to throw things in a suitcase, get a list of used book stores, grab the camera, and hit the road.

So, do you have any suggestions for our trip?

May your own traveling this summer go well.


Thursday, July 04, 2013

Day Tripping . . . for Quilts!

Two weeks ago, we took a jaunt over to Coeur d'Alene in Idaho to see the North Idaho Quilters "Quilted Gems" quilt show. We got to talk with Jean Schute, the featured quilter, and enjoyed meandering around this lovely quilt show. So much to enjoy, so many inspiring quilts!

Once home, I wanted to see if I could make a video of my favorite photos. So here, courtesy of Picasa and YouTube, is a short (roughly two minute) video of Jean Schute's quilts, along with a few other highlights. Jean is an accomplished art quilter, and her quilts are vibrant, a true pleasure.

The Washington State Quilters has added a new category -- MODERN QUILTS -- for our October quilt show. Check out the registration form at http://wsqspokane.org

And here's my slide show, with music!


Wednesday, June 19, 2013

It's all about the HEAT . . .

Last night's game wavered between excitement and disgust. The HEAT performed magnificently in the first quarter, then down, down, down in the second and third quarter, running behind, a miserable few points behind, then 10, then just 1 point ahead, and then 5 back again. 

Maybe the HEAT looked defeat in the face when officials brought out yellow tape to mark off the trophy presentation for the Spurs. They were headed to a win, thus ending the 2013 NBA Series Playoff. But then Ray Allen made a superb end-of-fourth-quarter 3-pointer. Swoosh! 

At overtime, I stood in my living room, shouting at the television, just as those thousands attending the game in Miami roared to their feet. With a few miracle plays, a few favorable ref calls, and stunning endurance, the Miami HEAT won the game! The Spurs were upset; they were that close to ending the series. Two days off to recover, and the last game of the series begins again this Thursday night. 

LeBron James is either magnificent, or I'm left wondering what happened. Why is he hesitating? And that's where the disgust comes in, for there's nothing so ugly as watching someone lose confidence. James said, in his post-game interview, “You put it all out there on the court. You give your best.”  And that's OK. 

Part of me knows that watching sports on TV is a little ridiculous. My hubby, Allen, pulled me in. He knows sports, the stats, the people, their histories. First it was football. Now basketball. We rooted for the HEAT all the way through the playoffs until this last series playoff. Allen shouted, "Boom!" every time the Spurs made a basket. That was aggravating since the Spurs were ahead through most of the game. It's a hard choice: both teams are very good. But there's only one LeBron, one Wade, and one Bird Man. 

Last night's game was physical. More than a few players got rattled and hit the floor, on their own volition or shoved by someone from the opposing team. After a strong first quarter, the HEAT seemed to lose their poise; the announcers said the HEAT played with desperation. If they lost, the series was lost. 

But there were moments of grace and beauty. That arc to pop the ball into the basket. Bird Man's grab at the net to close out an incoming ball, unsuccessful as it was, tipped in after his move by the opposition. Wade's fluid moves as he charged forward. LeBron's leadership at times faltered, but the HEAT never gave up. 

By the end of the game and that sudden-death overtime, all their faces were marked by exhaustion. Who had the reserves? Who had the emotional and physical stamina to persevere? The HEAT. 

I'm a fan. 

Of course, I'm partial to Bird Man. He came in late, played the heavy, rebounded a few. He was fouled, but he didn't lose his temper. The outsider, the survivor, the one who will be counted on because he could count on no one else. 

Anyone who has played sports knows someone wants the ball, the run, the goal. And will do anything to achieve that moment of grace and affirmation. That resounding "YES!" that echoes down the years. Last night, the HEAT had the drive, and the Spurs didn't. 

I've got chocolate ice cream in the freezer for half-time, and I'm ready for Thursday night.

LeBron James and The Miami HEAT, Finals 2013 (Source: the305.com)


Tuesday, June 04, 2013

Birdman . . . Birdman . . .

Chris Andersen, Bird Man (Facebook)
I want to write about the Birdman, Chris Andersen, that second string basketball player for the Miami Heat. 

At first I was intrigued by his tattoos. Who wouldn't be? They are beautiful, rich, gorgeous color, fascinating shapes spatter his body -- what can be seen, that is, all the way up to his neck, down both arms, legs, can't see as those basketball shorts come all the way down to his knees.  
And his hair. A Mohawk? And he sports this little wispy soul patch that stays or goes at a whim. 

Then I saw him interviewed. His mellow manner and calm way of speaking made me forget about the tattoos. The guys on the sports talk show (including Charlie Barkley and that big guy, Shaquille O'Neil) were visibly charmed, for they did not know what to think. So at first (as I'm a novice at basketball), I was entranced by this man who would cover himself with tattoos so distracting they become almost a mask, though his face is untouched. He stands out, and yet he is invisible.

Then in game 5 of the playoffs, someone shoved the Birdman. He thought someone else did it and shoved back. A confrontation ensued. The Birdman did not back down. His testosterone was all over the place. In a split second, he was a warrior. He was benched, later fined, and banned from game 6, which the Heat lost.  So I read a little about his background. Chris was early abandoned by his father and grew up rock-scrabble poor in rural Texas. Basketball was his entry to college, but he dropped out to play basketball professionally; he ended up playing for Chinese and Mexican D-teams until he was brought up to play at the A level for two teams, and then to the Miami Heat.

Birdman’s suspension reminds me of my soccer playing days when I was hit in the face with a soccer ball. As someone who wears glasses, I was instantly furious. I knew the other player had thrown the ball at me intentionally. I couldn't calm down. The ref ejected me, and my team had to play a person short. I couldn't even watch. But there is that moment in sports. You know the other person is going for the ball, and you want it. One of you will back down. That person won't be me. When my dear husband said he wasn't the marrying kind, I took that in, but even then, in that moment I knew, well, there's a goal.

The Birdman was back for Game 7 and the Heat won. I'm a fan of the Birdman. I know he has a dark side, but he's not the only one who wears a mask.