11.23.09
Train trip
The little one turned six this week, and his birthday present was a train trip to Portland, OR.
Before we left, he unwrapped a miniature Starlight Express and hasn’t stopped playing with it since.
King Street Station is beautiful. The ongoing restoration project is very encouraging. Here is a fascinating slideshow of the station, past and present.
Of course, I’m not the only one with an opinion on Seattle’s train station. This is from the 18 Nov Seattle Times: “King Street Station sure to be a memorable eyesore
Within 90 days, Seattle will accidentally become host to thousands of Olympic fans, overflowing from Vancouver venues, eager to see what our city has to offer.
Many of them will take the train service from Vancouver to King Street Station, a poorly lit, rundown building with absolutely no amenities, and no connecting bus service — it’s a quarter mile to Metro and two miles to Greyhound. There is no hospitality center with directions to close restaurants or attractions, and here’s the kicker: no coffee — in Seattle, for god’s sake — in a place where people are milling around waiting for late trains.
King Street Station is an embarrassment to Seattle.
If this is the way we present ourselves to our guests, what does that say about us? Our Port of Seattle spares no expense at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, but in a time when more and more people are considering the train, here we are with King Street Station, the gateway to Seattle.”
— Rick Sullivan, Seattle
Good points, yet my impression is that good progress is being made, Rick. Anyway, Amtrak’s coach class is roomy and comfortable. If you’re traveling with young children, there’s a fair chance they’ll seat you in the car with other babies and kidlets, so if the crying gets to you, just take a lurchy walk through the cars to the lounge car. It’s a great place to watch the sunset (it feels like a moving conservatory, all glass windows and sunroof.
Also, the dining car is as great as everyone told us it would be. I really liked the pumpkin-cranberry pie.
A. got a kick out of playing with his toy train on the train.
Quick list of Portland highlights:
Hotel Monaco, a place for people who live through the senses.
Greek Cusina — great lemon potatoes, oregano chicken, garlicky hummus, great pita bread.
Typhoon –smoky lettuce wraps, great chicken paneng, pear and prawn salad.
Red Star Tavern — a good place to blow more than you wanted on breakfast. Seriously good food, though.
And Powell’s. Our backpacks and bags were twice as heavy as when we entered. Need I say more?
On our return, we reached Seattle 45 minutes ahead of schedule, so we stood outside Qwest Field and watched the MLS Cup on the Jumbo Tron for awhile. Go Salt Lake Real! Either way, we would have been cheering. Soccer on that level is heady stuff. 
11.08.09
Sunday morning hallelujah
Laid up in bed with the flu and flying around the world with my laptop.
Gurinder Osan Copyright 2009 AP
I was reading the print version (per our Sunday Luddite ritual of morning paper in bed, sections strewn across the duvet and ink blacking my fingers) of Pacific Northwest magazine and found this short travel article on Sikkim, India alluring, intriguing, inspiring. I think most of it is due to the photo, which was taken by AP photographer Gurinder Osan, who specializes in social documentary photography. His perspective reminds me of the best National Geographic photography, which I grew up poring over. A little web searching brought me to his 2005 photo of Kashmir earthquake survivors, with its breathtaking composition and beauty amidst such suffering.
Gurinder Osan Copyright 2005 AP
The Arts and Life section has a piece on Rufus Wainwright, who’s playing tonight at Benaroya Hall–and that brought us to listening to his cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. Just beautiful.
And then the even more beautiful version by Jeff Buckley: I could listen to this a million times and still get my heart broken and uplifted all in the same song.
And finally, Imogen Heap’s version.
08.25.09
From the bedside table
I’m currently devouring Proust Was a Neuroscientist (you know it’s a good book if you pick it up during a bout of insomnia and find yourself still reading 2 hours later). It’s as much about creative figures like Whitman, Eliot, Cezanne, and Woolf as it is about how our brains work, and I find the conjunction of the two irresistible.
The author, Jonah Lehrer, also writes the blog The Frontal Cortex, and today’s post is a really beautiful and moving video of everyday moments.
06.14.09
Today
Flag day. My 33rd birthday. I’m reading and watching what’s happening in Iran today, thinking about freedom and justice, information and technology. I ♥ the internet.
06.08.09
On work, trades, and non-traditionals
Listening to KUOW’s Weekday this morning, I was captivated by Steve Scher’s guest and what he had to say about manual labor. Matthew Crawford has a PhD in philosophy, runs a motorcycle repair shop, and has some intriguing and very relevant ideas about education, class, livelihood, work, craftsmanship, and the trades.
Crawford remarked on the “differences in disposition” that we (parents, educators, society) need to recognize in students–not everyone will be happy in an academic track, not everyone is cut out for college, and there are many people whose intelligence is better expressed through the trades. More than that, he makes the case that most everyone would benefit from knowing a trade and experiencing the immediacy of catastrophe or success and feeling utter responsibility for that outcome.
I’m lucky enough to know several people who are autodidacts or are otherwise non-traditionally brilliant–and I’m convinced that knowing how to work with one’s hands is an essential part of human expression and satisfaction. The philosophy of my friend M.O. in Okanogan comes to mind: part of rearing her children is training them in a trade–she grows and processes lavender; her husband tunes pianos. Whatever else the children study and go on to do, they will know something practical and useful.
On that note, look what I know how to use now:
I used it to cut cedar planks, then finished them with tung oil:
Basement stairway ceiling commenced:
04.30.09
On a streetcorner in Spokane
today a mime peered around the edge of a building, then disappeared. I was walking with the three kids, backpack, shopping bags, a cloud of chatter surrounding me. I thought for a minute that I’d imagined the mime (what a crazy thing to see for a second!), but then I saw a hand appear, followed by the painted white face again.
It was a mime, beginning her performance for us. When we reached the corner, the kids were absolutely silent and transfixed, and I was blinking back tears (of course) at the sudden, unexpected beauty. The mime (as with all very good mimes, she didn’t seem particularly female or male, just androgynously graceful) reminded me of Jean-Louis Barrault in Children of Paradise.
04.24.09
One measly dollar
I learned about the Measles Initiative a couple of days ago from a fellow student who was selling buttons. A joint project with the Red Cross, the CDC, the UN Foundation, UNICEF, and WHO, it’s been remarkably successful in the past 8 years.
However, measles still remains a major health risk in developing nations because it’s one of the most contagious diseases known–and the vast majority of deaths are children under 5.
P.S. How did the word “measly” come to mean small or impoverished? from L. misellus “wretched, unfortunate,” dim. of miser “wretched.”
10.03.08
Someday I’ll sail the Salish Sea
Just the name’s seductive, isn’t it? I listened to an interview this afternoon with writer and kayaker Kurt Hoelting; he described his paddling odyssey this summer from Whidbey Island to the Cowichan Bay Tribal Journey on the shore of Vancouver Island.
Pretty inspiring story, especially considering that my kayak’s been face down on the back lawn for far too long!
02.07.08
Creative Valentines
The kids are big on paper art–scissors, tape, staples, and paper become 3-D houses, bunny mazes, paper dolls and animals, airplanes, cars… and reams of leetle itty-bitty scraps of paper left behind on the floor. It’s no surprise that they’d much rather make their own valentines than buy pre-printed ones. We’ve learned to give the girls at least a week to make their work-intensive valentines, otherwise we get the first few masterpieces, and then the hurried slap-dash last 20 the night before (devastatingly easy to tell which kids are their faves).
Here are some great ideas for homemade valentines:http://www.allfreecrafts.com/valentine/valentinecards.shtmlhttp://www.thetoymaker.com/Holidays/Valentines/1Valentines.html
http://www.enchantedlearning.com/crafts/valentine/heartgarden/http://www.artistshelpingchildren.org/valentinesdayartscraftsideakids.html
