Best Western

Back from Willamette University. A Palestinian woman from East Jerusalem came up to me after the event. Her whole family is now in the US except for one brother. “When he dies that will be it,” she said. “Our family has lived there for hundreds and hundreds of years and that will be it.”

Sunnyside Up (the existential cafe)

Met with a Presbyterian church group yesterday. While I was reading the story I got a little choked up and had to pause several times. I have been doing this for months and this is the first time this has happened. As I was reading the stories I was also remembering peoples’ repsonses to the stories– sadness, despair, hope, anger. And I felt overwhelmed.

At some point in the process I knew the work would be shared with others, yet when I started the paintings and stories it was largely for myself. A way of sitting with my experiences and honoring my friends in Palestine. Now, the stories have been shared and I am sitting with that. Right now, I don’t think I can be articulate about the “that”.

It’s raining, again. (We had about an hour of sun this morning.) Two women walk by the cafe with their heads held high, seemingly unaffected by the rain falling on them, gazing straight ahead, eyes wide open. I’ve been told that my umbrella gives me away. Folks here don’t use umbrellas.

Fort Vancouver Regional Library

Ms. Himler, my elementary school librarian, was one of the aspects of my childhood that was perfect. She had a never-a-hair-out-of-place salt and pepper Dorothy Hamill haircut, perfectly manicured nails with glossy clear nailpolish, and perfectly applied lipstick with a layer of clear lip gloss on top. She was nice and smiled a lot. Calm. She chose books to read with new celophane covers that crinkled as she bent the spine back. Her voice was soothing and warm. And whatever the characters of a story, she brought them to life with an ability to drop and raise her voice an octave. The only thing better than to sit before Ms. Himler and listen to her read a story was having a friend braid my hair while listening to Ms. Himler read a story.

I don’t walk into a library without remembering her. And today, as I read Outside the Ark to folks at Fort Vancouver Regional Library, I did it with a little more poise. A little more warmth and expression. The library purchased two of the books and put celophane around the covers.

Stumptown Coffee Roasters

Rain, again. A friend calls. He tells me it’s sunny and warm in Durham. I lean down to wipe off the mold growing on my boots. At the table next to me, a guy who looks to be in his early twenties is talking to the woman across from him about his time in Palestine. “It was intense, man.” I think about telling them about the event tonight, but I don’t want it to lead to a conversation. Tired, today. Will give them a flyer on my way out. The guy sharing my table just answered his cell phone and starts speaking Italian.