I have been in Orcas Island the past two days and have just arrived in the Seattle airport with about an hour before we begin boarding. Time to catch up on emails and the news. Just read a good article by Alison Weir on how the New York Times minimizes Palestinian deaths and defames media whistleblowers…

www.zmag.org/content/showarticle.cfm?SectionID=107&ItemID=7730

Tomorrow night will be my last event. I go back home on Saturday and begin to lay out the “what next?’ I have thoughts of continuing the tour in the fall, heading up to New England and through the Midwest to Colorado and New Mexico. And returning to Palestine within the year, maybe next spring. I have had flashes of buying a camper of sorts, something I could sleep in as well as carry books, art supplies, and clothes. I’ve been eyeing everything on the road that fits that description. I would love to be able to combine camping with touring.

Below is another painting by Michael Brophy. It reminds me of a moment when I was driving through the Northern Cascades. I had stopped and gotten out of the car to take in the view of the mountains. I had not seen another car for about an hour when a station wagon pulled up along side of me. The couple inside didn’t get out of their car. They just took a picture with the windows still up and then drove off.

Michael Brophy
“People’s View” 1999

Friends will soon be arriving at Sooze and Benjamin’s for the Seder. Sooze used to be a professional cook and has prepared dishes from Surinam, Persia, Italy and Morroco. The Haggadah that they have assembled includes words from Israelis and Palestinians. And begins with Desmond Tutu:

We must remember that liberation is costly. It needs unity. We must hold hands and refuse to be divided. We must be ready. Some of us will not see the day of our liberation physically. But those people will have contributed to the struggle. Let us be united, let us be filled with hope. Let us be those who respect one another.

Though I was a little hung-over from my late night of tv watching, the Eugene event went well. It was held at DIVA (Downtown Initiatve of Visual Arts) and attracted a good number of artists.

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.

Just finished an interview at KBOO. They are in the middle of a pledge drive which made things fun. The book was auctioned off. It got close to the wire, but we made the goal in the last 30 seconds. Everyone was hooting.

Just read an article by Daniel Day-Lewis called Inside Scarred Lives (see www.davereed.org). He visits Gaza and meets Palestinians and the Médecins Sans Frontiéres psychologists who are counselling them.

With the help of a group of young children, on the psychologists produced a practical guide to help children in other war-torn areas. The children who worked on the guide were among those caught in Israel’s Days of Penitence offensive. “They’d been shot at, attacked, some of their houses had been demolished, they’d seen people blown up, and had been confined in the smallest room of their house for two weeks by Israeli soldiers,” says Mitchell.

From the article:

“I was feeling my heart small and I was unable to talk. I thought I was going to die,” said one of the children. Mitchell was inspired by how they coped with the trauma, and wrote down what they told her. The result is a booklet in the children’s own words, How to Manage the Effects of a Military Attack: Tips for Children. “Invent games that make you laugh and help you breathe,” says one child. “Look at each other’s faces. If you see someone is distressed, talk to them,” says another. And there are dreams for the future: “Eat olives — the olive tree is the tree of peace.”

“They’re delighted by the book,” says Mitchell, “but they also underplay their strengths. They say, ‘We’re not so special; all Palestinian kids know how to do this.’”