CHRISTMAS LETTER

To our family and friends for whom we do not have a current mailing address:

CHRISTMAS 2008 ON THE NORTHWEST COAST
You know that it has been a difficult year when your surgeon is in your speed dial and your vehicle can find its own way to the local pharmacy. We are very thankful that Julie’s cancer has an extremely small statistical chance of recurrence and that she is gradually gaining some of her pre-surgery strength back. According to the anesthesiologist, because Julie had so many surgeries over a short time, her recovery time for memory and strength could be a year or more. Apparently the drugs these days are better than those of yore, but can play all sorts of tricks on the body.

The drug induced memory lapses open up all sorts of possibilities for me to gain advantage in our relationship, something I have rarely, if ever, experienced. For instance, I could have acquired more motorized and/or floating toys and she would have believed me when I told her that we shopped together for them. I did not do this which shows great strength of character on my part. I could have taken a solo fishing trip to Belize and then waxed poetic about our romantic walks on the uninhabited beaches. More strength shown by me-self. I did not do this either. Wow, what a great guy I am.

Julie is well, if a little distracted at times, and is back at the boutique a couple of days a week to get her “girl time” fix and golfing whenever possible. This is her new sport and I am told if you go with her you must be a sport to relinquish any thoughts of decorum or golf etiquette. Her group is the one laughing all of the time.

We did take a month long road trip through California, a good chunk of Arizona and parachuted into Albuquerque for the wedding of our Niece and to meet up with our recently unemployed daughter. Alisha finished her time in New Orleans as a Habitat for Humanity volunteer and we took the opportunity to meet her in Albuquerque for a caravan back to Oregon. Alisha’s little hatchback vehicle was packed solid to the ceiling, with a flexible bag type container strapped to the roof. I was impressed that she had not added significantly to her possessions while away for almost two years; impressed until I learned that the U.S. Postal Service was covering for her, with Julie’s help. She and Julie drove the car to Tucson, where we resumed our visit with the family, and I had the pleasure of driving Alisha’s car the next leg to Santa Barbara. I was looking for 3 cubic inches at a time to rearrange the interior load so that my knees would not be hitting the turn signal arm and to give me a small visual path to the right side mirror. I have faith in a lot of things, but blind lane changes are not included in the list, especially through Los Angeles. Julie and Alisha took the convertible road rocket and all I saw was their dust. Somehow I must sharpen my negotiating skills to get the upper hand in these matters.

Back Home in June: As you may know our home on the lake is very small, a fact which is especially true when the number one daughter moves in for a while. We are not used to having Alisha’s personal items scattered about since she moved out in 1999 to attend ASU, but we managed OK. Alisha is not, oh, how shall I put this, neat. At one point I got in the shower and found no less than 9 types of soap wedged in every conceivable crevice of the two shower caddies. I use one. What all of the others are for I have no idea and cannot imagine that one would get cleaner using several at a time, so I’m guessing that that is not the real purpose. If you know, please write me privately because the girls are not telling me. Alisha moved back to Portland as quickly as possible, but not before helping me pound a few nails of our own around the homestead. I think she was showing off because she is very good at construction. She is now trying to get into various graduate degree programs after taking the GRE a week or so ago. The ones in foreign lands or far away places are especially interesting to her. Surprise, surprise.

Eric’s move to Bend, Oregon has been a mixed bag. Finding meaningful employment has been like chasing the salmon downstream as the carcasses wash over the waterfalls and return to the sea. Economic conditions deteriorated rapidly in Bend as homebuilding shut down in mid-stride. When the economy goes south many people take that as a queue to return to academia for enlightenment and to beef up their credentials, and apparently both of our offspring are of like mind. Eric is taking on-line business classes and is enrolled for spring at Central Oregon Community College for Emergency Medical Technician (EMT). Being an EMT is something he has talked about since he was about sixteen and it is great to see Eric pursue this path. It seems to us that Eric has had sufficient on the job training in crisis management, both during his stint in New Orleans ten years ago and during the coffee roaster years, and has always remained cool and focused when the adrenaline flow increases, so this pursuit of study toward an EMT certificate should be a really good fit for him.

Eric has also continued his interest in music, and since his house has a built-in extra room for all of his recording gear, he may be able to spend some time working at it without competing with Sponge Bob Square Pants on the television. He has a fine voice, something he did not inherit directly from his parents, and we hope that he finds a place to showcase it someday.

Eric’s S.O., Rachel, has found a position with a non-shouting attorney group that she really enjoys (as compared to the previous Napoleon complex boss in the same profession). An S.O. in today’s world is a “Significant Other”. This is a perplexing term for me as it does not really have the ring of romance. Eric prefers “fiancé’”, but I think there should be a major push to come up with new terminology and then legislate its exclusive usage. This would keep numerous statehouses occupied and away from the real mischief our elected folks prefer to rain down upon our heads and wallets.

Lane, Rachel’s son, is a delight and at four years old is beginning to get a sense of humor about the oblique things only a four year old would spend any time thinking about. He can deadpan with the best – no smile, nothing, nada – just a straight face so that you think that his question might be sincere. Then he nails you.

Deaven is living in Portland now with Mom, Fae, and growing new neural connections by the bucket load. After being raised by Eric almost exclusively for the past eight years they believe that this move is best for her and we do not disagree (which would be useless anyway), but we miss the more frequent visits with her.

While we have toyed with the idea of selling everything and moving to California somewhere near San Luis Obispo for a lifestyle makeover, macro economic events (and stupidity of business leaders) overtook everything and may have eliminated that possibility for the foreseeable future. We’ll see. The pull South is fairly strong because of our vague memories of dry days and blue skies.

No sé el futuro, sino la esperanza de estar allí.
(I do not know the future, but hope to be there.)
I am just trying to get in the mood for our upcoming two month, plus, trip to Sonora.

Fleas, (Feliz Navidad),


Lee & Julie

A Dogs World

Small World

A friend of ours here in Florence, Oregon, Hal Weiner, each year is instrumental in producing the Winter Folk Festival in January. The thrust of the event is to put on concerts at the Florence Events Center for the areas school children and expose them to folk music. The auditorium seats 457 for the main concerts and the flat floor is used all weekend for vendors and a more-or-less continuous concert of folk talent from the region. This has turned into a great event and we have been involved by donating the use of the big beach house vacation rental to house the headline group. Of course there is an adult concert on Saturday night which is sold out each year. This year Tom Paxton is numero uno, and Barry McGuire (Eve of Destruction) and John York (former member of the Birds) are numero dos. They will all be staying at our house and for this we get to enjoy some good music and have some satisfaction that we helped bring folk music to the kids here.

Hal Weiner, for a time, was a member of the Goldcoast Singers who opened for Bud & Travis several times in L.A. and San Francisco. It’s a small world. I ran into Hal yesterday as we were both buying a belt at the local Fred Meyer store (not many options here) and spoke to him about the upcoming concert and he reminisced for a time about those days of being a broke student in L.A. and trying to make a few extra dollars by playing music. And he reminded me that the founding members of the Goldcoast Singers wrote and performed the irreverent song Plastic Jesus. The song was not meant to antagonize those of faith, but to point out the hypocrisy of selling trinkets in the name of God. There are many other versions of this song and a little controversy over its origin, but I believe that these are the original lyrics.

Plastic Jesus
By the Goldcoast Singers, 1962
Ed Rush, and George Cromarty

I don't care if it rains or freezes

's long as I've got my Plastic Jesus

Glued to the dashboard of my car.

You can buy Him phosphorescent

Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,

Take Him with you when you're traveling far.

You can buy a Sweet Madonna

Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a

Pedestal of abalone shell.

Goin' ninety, I'm not wary

'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary,

Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell.

(All together now!)

I don't care if it rains or freezes
's long as I've got my Plastic Jesus
Glued to the dashboard of my car

Minus 13 Degrees F

We were in Bend, Oregon this past weekend for the last of Julie’s work for reconstruction (Do I hear a Halleluiah?) and it was a year and two days since her first surgery. She was just amazed that it was finally over and that she will not need to see the Doc for a year.

We stayed with our friends Steve & Carolyn because our house is rented out until May and we enjoyed their company and a celebration of Carolyn’s birthday on Monday. It was bitterly cold and ranged only between zero and plus 8 degrees Fahrenheit for the last three days there. On our drive back to the coast yesterday it was -13 degrees F as we passed through Sisters, Oregon and just plain cold the entire way. Of course I am not complaining because we were in a nice warm 4 X 4 Suburban, with studded snow tires and did not need to get out of the truck for anything. It was just a very slow trip. From Eugene all of the way through the Coast Range it was ice on the road and even at the beach there is still snow on the ground.

This is very unusual for the coast because we only see snow every few years and it does not stay on the ground for several days as we are experiencing now. This weather has prompted me to begin packing in earnest for the trip to Mexico even through it is a month away. We do not want to forget our favorite pair of sandals. It will be good to not be cold!

Oregonians at a Disadvantage

Governor Rod Blagojevich, Illinois (soon to be Ex-gov.)

If we had known how much of a disadvantage it would be to move to Oregon we would have made a different choice eight years ago. If we had chosen Illinois instead of the West Coast we could have bid on the Senate seat vacated by Barak Obama. Oregon is a fairly progressive state, but I have not seen any seats in the U.S. Congress for sale recently, although I have not checked EBay. I guess if there was anything to bid on in Oregon it would be plastered on the Internet because we are so progressive here.

Feeling left out here in the Northwest, we are going to petition our legislature to apply for extra Federal assistance to compensate for the lack of opportunity here. This would go a long way toward supplementing the Federal payments we receive for the timber we do not cut because of all of the restrictions Congress has placed on such ventures. I gotta say that Senator Edmonson sounds mighty fine to me and would make my family really proud, especially if we did not have to bother with actually getting any votes. Just paying a lump sum for the privilege would probably be a whole lot cheaper than actually campaigning and all of the other stuff you gotta do for it in normal circumstances.

But we will just settle for some money in the old pocketbook direct from the U.S, Treasury, as compensation for our disadvantage. This is an especially good idea because then we would not have to worry about the FBI or spending any time in a cell if people did not like the alternative of purchasing a Senate seat. We have a quorum? All those in favor.........

Hit by Lightening

We do not get a lot of lightening on the Oregon coast, but I am not counting on statistics alone to counter those that may pray for the occasional bolt to strike me on the top of my head out of a clear blue sky for what I am about to commit to print. The longer my years, the more I think about higher purpose and the struggles of humankind to understand our universe and our place within it. Call it what you will, but “woo-woo” moments come even to those of us who count more on science than faith to bookmark our place in the world. One such moment struck me recently while preparing to shower.

It began by thinking about how my older brother and I were blessed with extremely heavy beards at a very early age and how what I thought was really cool at 18 years of age has turned to poop after 40 years of continuous scraping of my face with various torture implements. I was recently appalled at how much facial hair was evident after I cleaned my reading glasses and looked in the mirror. I had not shaved in about 36 hours, my eyebrows resembled Andy Rooney’s, and my moustache was more like a late summer garden full of weeds than the picture my mind painted. Much of my time is my own now, as opposed to belonging to an employer, and most days I do not care much about style and appearances and simply go about my daily business oblivious to others concerns about looking like a hobo. If I have grungy work to do on the house or in the garage I am not going to wear a suit. Same with shaving. If I do not plan on having to “go to town” and see someone my wife might know who would report back to her about my deteriorated condition, I will not shave sometimes. This is happening more and more as I find that my beard is becoming even more of a forest than I ever thought possible. The EPA has proposed setting aside some of the territory on my chin for Spotted Owls to increase their chances at species survival. The current technologies available to cut or yank these hairs from my epidermis are woefully inadequate for the expanded diameters and diminished spacing between the follicles.

So, this got me to thinking, after shaving, cutting and combing. While showering, for some unknown reason, phrases of The Lord’s Prayer began misfiring through my grey matter and I began reconstructing the lines to my own design – which just happened to have something to do with facial hair. I do not mean to insult anyone and bring placard carriers to my front door, predicting doom or worse for me and those of like mind. This is simply one of my diversions from everyday concerns. I know this will not stop the hand wringing by some or the earnest prayer for my wayward soul, but to me it is just a bit o’ fun. And my brother will understand.

The Lord’s Prayer – Completely Changed

Our Father, which art in the supermarket shaving aisle
Hallowed by thy trademark brands
Thy delivery trucks come
Thy will be done with safety blades, in earth as it is, hopefully, in heaven
Give us this day our daily beard
And forgive us our no-shave days, as we forgive them that evolve to peach fuzz
And lead us not into temptation of hormone therapy
But deliver us from evil electric razors
For thine is the patented kingdom, and the three head electric power hair plucker, and the smooth skin glory, for ever and ever. Amen

Taunt Your Friends

This is not the solution, Gary!

This 9 piece puzzle spent a great amount of time on our card table last week, providing many hours of fun, but no solution. Several non-working theories were advanced and tried, each with its unique premise. Nada.

Gary especially wanted to solve this thing, so I thought I would just toss this into the blog as sort of an unfinished business thing to taunt those of us who cared enough to give it a shot. If you have not tried this puzzle it is worth a few bucks to own one yourself. If you happen to solve it, please LET ME KNOW THE SOLUTION. Armed with a good result I could create all kinds of grief.

Oh Fudge! Holiday Spirit Again.

Last week was a busy one and one of the highlights was Deaven spending the entire time with us in Florence. This gave Julie and Deaven a chance to bake their traditional chocolate chip cookies, brownies and fudge and deliver them to merchant friends along Bay Street in Old Town. The photograph was taken as they were leaving the house - notice that the top is down. We had a week of great weather, with the only rain being on T-Day.