A Portland neighborhood

Ruth and Auggie

There is something really appealing about the neighborhoods in Portland, Oregon. The through traffic is routed around them so there are very few cars on the residential streets. The houses typically are small with deep porches where families sit and people strolling by stop and chat and kids play together. Backyards are small, so everyone congregates along the quiet street.

There are neighborhood elementary schools and it looked to me like most people walked with their young kids and older kids walked together. That's what it was like where I grew up. The long walk to school was a great way to socialize in the morning and to let go of the injustices of the school day at the other end. I remember filling my pockets with acorns, popping tar bubbles along Magnolia Place on a hot day and being caught in a spring rain storm, arriving home drenched through and through. Where was my mother? It didn't seem like she was worrying too much about me. She knew I'd get home eventually.

Most of all, these neighborhoods make me think of Ramona and Beezus Quimby. They grew up on Klickitat Street in Portland. We walked by that very street when I was there in January and I couldn't believe it. It's a real place! Beverly Cleary, the author of the "Ramona books" grew up on Klickitat Street in the 1940's. She describes it so well in her chapter books for young readers that I recognized it. I expected to see Henry and his dog Ribsey appear from behind a house and Ramona speed by on her roller skates while her older sister Beezus walked with friends trying her best to ignore her little sister, the pest.

Maybe that is why being in Portland feels like living in a story book. Having two real live children, my grand nephews, helped too. Walking with them to school, they raced up steps, stamped in puddles, ran down the sidewalk and stopped dutifully at the street corner until my sister and I caught up with them. Then a small four year old hand slipped into mine as we crossed the street. I see where Beverly Cleary got her material.

Update from California

Hi All,

Since it seems that Barb is taking a bit of a break from the blogging world and I haven't said "hello" to the 4 Moccasin Hillbillies in a while, I thought I'd write a quick update on my life. All is well in Oakland, where I am living for the spring. I am amazed at all the Bay Area has to offer, and I am lucky enough to be in great company of both old and new friends alike.

Last weekend, one of my oldest friends, Tory Hayes, visited California and soaked up the sun after having been buried in snow back in Boston. It was wonderful to see him, and to take him up to Marin, where there are some beautiful hikes.

The view from a perch above Muir Beach last Saturday.

I've also been lucky enough to see Brad, Sylvia, and Alden not once, not twice, but THREE times since I arrived in California. It's been so incredible seeing Alden develop even in the four short weeks that I've been here, as well as spending quality time with Sylvia and Brad. There's nothing like family!

A backyard feast on a particularly balmy Sunday a few weeks back. One of my housemates is starting a food truck business, and is testing his recipes out on us all the time. While he insists that he has perfected his hamburgers to a T, I think I need to try a few more just to make sure.

The view from our drive home on Route 1 after a hike in Point Reyes.

While it looks like all fun and games ALL the time, I'm also tirelessly applying for teaching jobs in the area for the fall, and hoping something comes of it. I'll be heading to Wyoming in late April for a NOLS trip and then leading for Overland again this summer, this time in Tanzania. Still, the fall looms large. Stay tuned for a post in March... M+D are making the trek west for a visit, and I will be doing my best to capture their adventures here as they attempt to thaw themselves out after a cold and unyielding east coast January.

That's the news from the Bay! Love to all.

Eliza

the sweater

Ruby giggled when I asked her to teach me how to knit. Living in Red Bay, South Labrador for the summer, I needed an evening project. By day I was a volunteer for the Quebec Labrador Foundation running a day camp for the children in this small fishing village. In the evening I’d sit in the kitchen with my hosts Ruby and Bob and wait for visitors. The wooden door would swing open, no knock, and neighbors would enter and sit. I glanced up to admire the hand knit sweaters worn by the men. The sweaters that kept them warm in their open boats, out salmon fishing all day. Although women never wore them, I wanted one.

So Ruby got me started, not sure why I would want a man’s sweater. Perhaps her choice of deep pink hand dyed wool for the yoke pattern was her effort to make it feminine. All summer I sat and knit in the kitchen as visitors came and went, Ruby watching proudly and leaning over to correct any flaws. Her large hands, rough from laying out salted herring to dry in the sun and keeping the smoke house going, made the shiny needles fly.

On the eve of my departure, the sweater was not finished. I had completed all the major sections but the hard part was putting them all together. I rolled the pieces up, said good night to Ruby and Bob and went to bed. When I woke in the morning, Ruby looked pleased as she made the breakfast. There, folded neatly on the bench was my completed sweater. She must have been up all night working on it. I slipped it over my head and gave her a hug. It fit perfectly.

Over the next few years, I rarely took it off. This sweater that was infused with the friendship between two women and the smell of fog and salt. It reminded me of my summer on the coast, the view of the Strait of Belle Isle dotted with ice bergs and the smiling faces of the children who waited outside my door each morning.