Sunbreak Photographs

Wow---

Is this a great town, or what?

I took this from a bus roaring over the Morrison Bridge this afternoon, what an amazing view!

All the rain we had, I knew that the mosses would be peak with the sun sneaking out now and then, so I was disturbing the homeowners hanging out on a Friday afternoon, "Who is that taking pictures in our front yard?" But look at those pussywillow shots, can you stand it? Got the curly willow at Kath & Harv's, and the extreme plush velvet at Matt & Emily's. They weren't home.

Six-and-a-half weeks

I'm sitting here with the Spring term course schedule already.

This is week 6 of the Winter term, half over, midterms behind me, I shoulder the bookbag up and down the hills filled with library books loaned to me from all over Oregon about the ancient Hittite Empire, the Research Paper to write, then only the Final Exams ahead.
Afterwards, the 10 days off before Spring term starts on March 31st.

What do I need to do to retrieve my photographic memory of the first lap of my schooling? Only needed to read something twice, and I not only could remember it for exams, but could visualize it on the page. Before anyone calls out the AGE card, I think that the working world had it's own level of memorization requirements, as in unpacking 150 cases of books and remembering that in the flurry of sorting them into storage bins whether the third Spiderwick book came in and whether it was in paperback or hardcover. And how far back in the bin you stacked it.
So my memory skills were merely redirected to assist me as a customer serving boss instead of a student (or singer of rock lyrics).

Six weeks in, and my stair-taking is less embarrassing, I know which of the busses running through the fare-free zone stops have a drop-off stop at PSU (Portland, she rains) and which cross-over bridges between buildings are enclosed so I don't have to passively smoke a cigarette or two on my way to Neuberger Hall. If only there was one to the library...

I love that library. It has that mid-century smell that I remember from before the digital age and it comforts me when browsing through the stacks and finding an irresistible book on 1930's Mandarin Chinese poetry in translation, or repaired bindings on 100 year old books so they can still be read. Libraries are treasuries, attracting serious students, snoozers, and today a table of fully chadored young women playing with their cell phones and giggling when a young man sat down at their table. BTW, the Hittite books are fascinating, how am I going to narrow down which works of art to compare for the paper? I love these kind of dilemmas.

But I need a new laptop, clearly the 2003 Sony is so slow and noisy and almost 9lbs, it's not going to be hanging off my shoulder on the bus and throwing out the other side of my lower back. There have been days when I've come into a lecture hall and the whole back half of the room is wall-to-wall upright laptops, and the pitter-patter of Apple keystrokes has become just as integral to the lecture as the whir of the slide projector over my head. Free wi-fi access is everywhere on campus, so I could work on my online research at the table by the window with my hot organic coffee gripped in my hand, then speed off to my next class. I get a student discount if I get one through the online Apple Education store, or I can check Best Buy, but being able to carry around my files and add to them while on campus will really come in handy. As Steven would say,"Well, some bitches better get a job!" I'd rather get a grant, and shake some Apples loose from the money tree. Some bitches get wicked crafty...

My neighbor John was snickering at me today, he's a retired teacher, that I'm just so happy to be doing what I'm doing, loaded down with books late in the afternoon, coming home from the bus. Sometimes I feel seven years old again, can't wait to break open the books after class and mentally run like hell. There is nothing else in the world I'd rather be doing.

Archaeology is a Contact Sport

Who knew? I thought it would be a bunch of wonks, Star Wars alumni, Tolkien freaks, time travelers, anti-Indiana Joneses, Outcasts of the Curious Anachronism Society and RenFest drop outs. Well shame on me, although I'm a tad disappointed to see that they seem to look alot like me, except for the manly men with earnest expressions and one or two with Merlin beards. At least here in downtown Portland, it isn't a Summer of '69 reunion either attending the Anthropology Department's "First Thursday" Lecture event at 4pm yesterday afternoon. Of course I was going to go, and it has nothing to do with the extra credit essay, because the topic was establishing a Cultural Resources Preservation Program for the City of Portland, to enforce the national, state, county and municipal historic sites' laws as well as bringing it to a higher profile in the community.


Honestly, I was stunned. You mean Portland doesn't have this already? I thought. You've got to be kidding me.

The presenter was Wendy Ann Wright, a PSU student in the Anthropology department, a Powells Books alumna, mom, and passionate member of Sam Adams' staff at City Hall. OMG!!
What better person to catalyze this idea in the city, and she had a great slide presentation of the research she's done in other cities nationally, to find models that are community-based and effective already. Again, I sat there looking at her slides of St. Mary's Academy Wall demolition that she may as well have downloaded from my blog, as well as hurried excavations of privies and Chinese cemetery graves with a row of bulldozers and backhoes hovering in the background.

Portland doesn't have this in place already? I can't believe this! When she concluded, my hand shot up. "Hi, I'm really uninformed about the whole City permitting process, but everyday I see the progress of the building project at the base of the Hawthorne Bridge, and they're already 50 feet down---before the contractor started digging, he had to find out about gas lines, water lines,
how strong the soil barrier is between the hole and the river---I would think historic maps of municipal locations are available to check this just like the gas and water companies survey and OK going ahead with excavating, right? Couldn't a City of Portland Archaeologist or Historic Site Manager Office be layered in here at this point so at least within the city limits sites aren't just plowed up?"

Well, she mentioned the standard fire maps, and archived city maps, but no, there isn't really anything like this in Portland at this time, it would be a budget issue certainly.

An older gentleman stood up. He was concerned that there was a punitive attitude coming off of archaeologists and site preservationists that would actually have the opposite effect of discouraging people from coming forward with asking for site assistance if an artifact showed up in a shovel of dirt or their basement bricks collapse and there's old bootlegger paraphrenalia falling onto the floor. Why couldn't the utilities and industrial corporations be asked to underwrite some of these efforts and also cooperate with the city in recovering some of their own industrial history and be seen as caring about the community preservation movement instead of being told to absorb the time and costs of investigating sites all over the city? He started out seeming a bit hostile to Wendy's anti-looting attitude that makes all collectors and antique markets suspect, but she was able to agree with him and turn his question into an approach almost everyone could agree with. She said there was an African American Art exhibit that Sam Adams' office was involved in that had had an antique bottle collector involved, but he pulled out after getting some flack from the archaeologists in town about his collection being "looted", which in strict trade terminology means removed from its historical context (or dump pit). It is a comment on we everyday townsfolk that most of us need to be educated that saving a cloudy antique bottle (it's blue and says 'poison', cool!!) from your backyard compost pile of 103 years ago constitutes "looting". But it is. Strictly speaking. Even if you own the property.

This is where the contact sport part comes in.

Needless to say, in Wendy's research to find a working preservation model that has widespread and cooperative community involvement, she finds that there are plenty of struggles with individuals' and commercial property rights when it comes to designating something 'historic' or a 'cultural resource' , and different cities have varying levels of success with this issue. She mentioned Alexandria, VA and Vancouver, WA as two cities with viable programs and great community involvement and support. These agencies get the kids involved with introductions to archaeology with a "kids dig"; artifact copies that the kids get to use methods of excavation to "find" and analyze. Also, many Native American Nations are active in community awareness and education to preserve sites and ways of life, often coordinating with municipal and county agencies to work with the public and commercial interests. Often, she said, there are laws in place already that are poorly enforced or thought of as arcane, and educating officials about these laws would be a place to start with raising preservation with the public.

There's already a faint sound in my head, "You should do this, you love Portland so much, what a great project this would be to get involved with and help launch!" I haven't had a huge ambition in a few months, it's about time to have a new one, isn't it? Halfway through my first term, after 25+ years out of school, and already I'm the department expert in my own delusional brain. Too funny, isn't it? And the fact that these "First Thursday" Anthropology lecture attendees are about my age, already have my interests, and go to a pub afterwards to eat and drink and talk shop would be the perfect arm-twister to get me to keep going. And earning extra credit. And blogging about it. Until maybe I finally dive in and present Sam Adams with a plan.

Politics and Real Life

I have a mid-term tomorrow, so this will be short.

My dear friend Jolie took her 13 year old daughter out of school last week to go to a political rally at Denver University, knowing the experience of 'politics as rock concert' would have a lasting impression on her youngin', and here she is. (they grow up so fast)

She shook Bill's hand, and took pictures of him going through the reception line. Jolie was so proud, and happy to be the shining blue light in her red state neighborhood, and that her daughter got the political bug of how important this election is in her lifetime, and to be aware and awake for it while it's happening. Talk about handing the torch to the next generation, Ted Kennedy's got nothing on this one.

I stayed home from an Anthropology Department after school lecture on 'Myth-busting CSI Forensics' to watch the Clinton-Obama debate last Thursday live on CNN, and found out the next day that the lecture was packed, and the kids in class didn't even know there was a debate or who was debating or that only two Democrats were left in the race. I already knew that no one under 25 listens to the radio anymore, which guarantees the final death rattle of neo-Cratzies talk radio shows, but other than Obama buzz online, the GenYers don't watch news or CNN either. No newspapers, no radio, no landline telephones, no tv news---we're undergoing a complete media revolution and over 40 people don't know it yet. The campaigns who 'get it' will lead the way to the political future and everyone else will be wondering what just ran them over.

I'm watching the bug-eyed furious conservative 'faith' party implode because a reasonable man who wants to work with Democrats will win the nomination, which is another example of how crazy this 'moral majority' crap is and that it's finally drawing to a close in the light of reason. This new generation who loves Obama won't fall for this line of narrow exclusionist thinking, Rushbaugh can fade away with Cheney and the rest of the Nixon/Reagan interns and we can get on with leading our country into the future. It's a nicely odd feeling when I can choose between a black candidate, a woman candidate and a white republican I respect in a presidential election, and they all have an absolute chance of winning, AND will all work together after the election. I have hope again.

St. Mary's Wall

Back to the wall saga----

I didn't have my camera with me today, plus it was a snotty rain in the afternoon, almost freezing and never getting beyond about 7am bright. I'll bring it along tomorrow, but the scoop today is that they have left the huge deciduous (oak) tree in the center of the lot, while the large pine is gone, leaving a raw stump about 20ft in the air. Yeesch! The cracked corner is knocked down to the height of a knee-wall and it continues at that height along to where the quaint arched gateway cuts through. Above one gateway is a carved stone arch that says "St. Mary's Academy" in a gothic Victorian script, above a gray slat door, and the teardown stops there on the side facing East. Packed earth berms slope away from the edge of the wall up to the level of the carpark, covered with gray plastic membrane and sandbags, keeping the dirt solid and dry. The old flagstone knee-wall turns the corner and heads west up the hill for about 30 or 40 ft, until the second arched gateway filled with a gray slat door. The original height and capstoned wall continues to the corner as if nothing is happening down the hill. The little ferns and mosses are all still soaking up the rains and thriving, green as glow worms on the flagstones.

Grief

My favorite dog is leaving the planet and my heart is breaking. There's nothing I can do except hug on him, pet and scratch him, give him some yogurt and doggie cookies, push the water dish over, and help him up if he wants to go outside. Nothing but everything I can to help him and give him love and touch.

You're never ready, you just aren't, unless you're good at keeping your heart in an insulated place far away from where it's supposed to be. I'm no good at that with animals, and even though he's been sliding in that direction for a while, it was still a shock to see it so baldly and with no other meaning than this. I'm tired of saying goodbye to animals, but I can't quit loving them, there's no other way than to love the hell out of them, so a fresh heartbreak, another raw grief, and time to say goodnight again. I know what unconditional love is because I've learned it this way, over and again, the noble animal souls who leave me behind blessed with their unconditional acceptance and love for me. There's no 'right' way to do grief, you just shoulder into it and keep breathing. Hugging other animals is a fine solace.

Today's Teardown

As pleased as I was to see the wall mostly still standing, I was then horrified to see what they were doing today to the huge trees on the lot. It seems they're removing the back fill that was put in at least 40 years ago to create a parking lot (by the size of the trees) and maybe leaving the wall intact? The backhoe operator is very delicate when digging near the wall facade, and is working on taking out the big slabs of asphalt and pounding them into smaller chunks that can be scooped up with a bulldozer. He takes out a chunk of the old concrete that's behind the flagstone with the vest guy guiding him, then he comes back for the soil. None of the rest of the wall is being disturbed (today) but since they're taking out the trees, maybe the wall is part of the preservation of whatever the future use the site will have.

This is what's on the other side of the street, facing the moss wall, the modern alternative.
Say it ain't so.

I know, why do I care, right? I don't work or live there, it didn't belong to my family or anything, so who cares? This wall is an historic part of the whole St. Mary's Academy & Church complex and is at least 100 years old, if not 175, and there's no replicating it if it's torn down. I mean, look at this gray nothingness---

The moss, the placement of each stone by human hands and mortared generously, the quality that has lasted this long, that's what I value in my urban surroundings, why I love Portland so much. If it's gone in a few weeks, someone noticed it happening, and took some last pictures of the beautiful stonework and inner-city mid-winter greenness of it. It's a living wall, it really is.