Two photos from a swell Christmas Day!

Leland, Lamont, Lee, and Brody smiled as I took their photo because I made them chuckle when I hollered, "Festivities!" They repeated it, smiling all the while! Brody is Leland and Lamont's housemate; Lee works with them. Both guys are their good friends.
 

Rachel, Leland's sweetheart, graciously posed with me around my spur-of-the-moment Christmas decoration. One Sunday afternoon I had picked up the wooden tray from someone's parking strip on a nearby street--folks set items in front of their houses in the strip of grass between the curb and the sidewalk and intend for you to take it, if you like it. I liked this wooden tray with a divider and a handle. It dawned on me that I could put Christmas lights along the center divider and make a holiday spot in my apartment. I set various shiny, sparkly, Christmas decorations in there, too. Everyone agreed with me that it made a great stand in for a fireplace.

We were all so hungry that none of us even gave a second's thought to taking photos of the food I had cooked--pot roast with potatoes and carrots, fresh green beans, steamed broccoli, and homemade yeast rolls. Dessert--I baked a box of Duncan Hines Fudge Brownies and had bought a small pecan pie at Fred Meyer Monday evening when I shopped for this meal. No one wanted pie, and I sent the last four brownies home with the guys.

Thankful for Thanksgiving Day and family memories.

These images are scans of small, much older photographs. The quality is slim, but the love is deep.



Thankful for having had these fine women as part of my life. Except for me, they're now all gone from here, to a place where I shall join them at some point in the I hope distant future. Left to right, front row, Ma (my Daddy's mother), Mama (my mother), Mama Sudie (Mama's mother). Back row, Aunt Baker (Daddy's sister), and me.

 

Also thankful for my dearly departed husband LeRoy and our two sons, Lamont and Leland.

 

Thankful for my Daddy, seen here with Lamont.

 

And my Mama, seen here with Leland.

Taking a break from the Nature's beauty series to share some joyous family time at the Hollywood Theatre, experiencing "Muscle Shoals" together!

-->

Back story. Born in 1947 in Jackson, Mississippi; graduated from high school in 1966; went to Mississippi State in Starkville until we needed for my parents to send my brother to school to defer the possibility of being drafted; moved to Kansas City, Missouri, in 1969; listened to various radio stations in Jackson and Starkville and Kansas City. Every chance I got, I went to live music at clubs and at  concerts. Dec. 31, 1972, married a music lover named LeRoy--he had more albums than I'd ever seen outside of a record store. We continued those habits, spending some of life's time and money and love on music. LeRoy died in 1983 in Houston, Texas, where we had moved. Lamont, Leland and I moved back to Jackson, Mississippi. I took my sons to as many live music performances as we could afford. We listened to the radio, watched early MTV together, and bought some music. We came to appreciate each others tastes, one of the blessings of being their mother that causes my heart to swell. To me it means their Daddy is here with us, helping us understand each other just a little bit better.

I cannot play anything. I cannot sing. I can appreciate music that grabs hold of me and won't let go. In fact, I willingly allow this to happen from the second I hear some songs, whether it is the first time or the hundredth time. Before LeRoy, who really just about wouldn't dance, ever, I used to get up on the dance floor and get down. Nowadays, I jump at the chance to do the Electric Slide, as well as bobbing my head with the best of 'em. And I fondly remember dancing with Lamont and Leland at their various high school proms. (I taught at their school.)

Now for why I'm smiling so much in all of the photos in the collage. A few months ago when I read about "Muscle Shoals" in an e-mail I received from the Portland Art Museum's NW Film Center, I knew I had to see it. No wavering in my determination--I bought a ticket to see it on Friday, October 11, at 6:45 p.m. When I walked in, I decided to sit on row seven, in the 11th seat, for luck. Did that ever turn out to be the case! Here's something I wrote about the experience afterwards--"Let me tell you, if you get the chance to see the documentary "Muscle Shoals," you should take it. I can't think of enough words to accurately convey how splendid it is. Go see and you'll find yourself feeling the same. If you don't, I'm sorta worried about you."

Several times as I sat there in the dark, among surely lots of non-Southerners who nevertheless loved the music, I wondered what they thought about the word kudzu, did they recognize it for those few seconds it was on the screen? Did they understand what those interviewed really meant when they talked about the singing river, the mud, the place of Muscle Shoals, Alabama? It didn't take much for me to become homesick for my Mississippi because those beautiful skies and landscapes and small town sights spoke deeply and quickly to my memories. Those young men, barely out of boyhood, struck me with such familiarity that I felt I knew them, yet I remained amazed at the chance of the whole thing--they are the living, breathing, talented truth of being in the right place at the right time. Let's add in having the right skills and determination and flexibility and the ability to not be racists, too, in those turbulent times in the South.

Overcome with the gut-impact of deep emotions I had not expected, somehow I swallowed the sobs I felt coming on as I sat there while folks all around me got up and left as the credits rolled. I couldn't move, not yet. I had to drink from "Muscle Shoals," the final drop of the well-realized effort on the part of all involved in its coming together. When I got to the top of the aisle, I noticed to  my right that the auditorium's control room door stood ajar. I leaned into the darkness and said with a still choked up voice, "Thank you, thank you so much for bringing that here." I heard a voice reply, "You're welcome." And I walked away, knowing immediately that I had to see it again.

This past week when I got an e-mail from the Hollywood Theatre saying that I could get free tickets to "Muscle Shoals," I immediately started clicking and typing, with a huge grin plastered all over my mug. I got the confirmation e-mail the next day, and both sons, Lamont and Leland, willingly said Yes to my invite. I knew we three had it made in the shade. That we were cooking with gas. That our ship had come in. OK, I'm going off the deep end here, but I do not care. Look at the collage above and see how I looked out front afterward, and you see the truth in those cliched phrases, plastered all over my mug! I sat there between the two of them, patting their knees every once in a while, wondering if they could believe any better than I could that these men who looked and sounded like their Papaw used to look and sound had been the creators of much of the musical soundtrack of our lives. Once we hit the sidewalk outside, I handed my iPhone to Leland so that I could have these photos to enjoy over and over.

I know this has been a lot to read. Thanks for indulging an ol' woman's family and musical whims, reflections, and joys. I know just how blessed that I am, y'all.

About the film: MUSCLE SHOALS - DIRECTOR: GREG “FREDDY” CAMALIER - US, 2013

In a small Alabama town called Muscle Shoals—on the banks of the Tennessee River—legendary musicians including Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickett gathered in the late 1960s to create music that would inspire later recordings by Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, The Allman Brothers Band, Simon and Garfunkel, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Black Keys, and many more. Tracing the storied history of this unlikely musical birthplace, Camalier’s colorful film centers on Rick Hall, the founder of FAME recording studios and creator of the Muscle Shoals Sound and its legendary house rhythm section, The Swampers. Along with rare archival clips are the memories of legend after legend—all testimony to one of America’s most creative musical melting pots. (111 mins.)

Saturday afternoon matinee, recently seen with my younger son Leland, at one of my two nearby vintage movie theaters--the Laurelhurst over at NE 28th and NE Burnside

Click here for a trip to City Daily Photo, transporting you around the world every day.



First time I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark was when it came out in 1981, with my husband LeRoy. I cannot remember if we took the boys to see it with us, but I'm guessing that we did because by the time the movie-related toys came out in late 1982, we had some at our house. That's all that I can remember about it.

I found online that it might have been a playset called "Well of the Souls" (I seem to remember the ark and its carrying poles) or one called "The Map Room." Wish I could remember. Shoot, for all I know, we might have bought one of each, one for each son. Now that I've looked at some accompanying photos, I believe I can rule out "The Map Room." I don't remember any of those pieces. We must have bought some of the 4" action figures, too.

Anyway, I've always loved the movie, my sons have always loved it, so when I found out that it was at the Laurelhurst, I mentioned it to them. Leland could go, so we ate lunch first at nearby Franks-A-Lot on East Burnside and then walked over to the 1:15 p.m. matinee--for some reason that time is not showing on the marquee where you only see what looks like that start of a numeral nine. That movie's a classic, real treat, even after all these years and having watched it no telling how many times on TV!

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No. 24 - Happy Mother's Day to Me!

Why I enjoyed Mother's Day. No, it's not the Anthem Pear Cider. Leland on the left, Lamont on the right. We're waiting for our Sunday morning breakfast at Brother Jon's Public House in Bend, Oregon.
 

Leland, leaning back so that I can get his brother Lamont into the photo without feeling like I just might fall over the split rail. (Have I explained that I have a fear of heights? That said fear of heights fills me with thoughts highly irrational?) We're at Smith Rock State Park, Terrebonne, Oregon. More photos to come from Smith Rock State Park.

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No. 21 - I finally get to see a place where the guys have camped and bouldered, other than on Google Maps as the result of a SPOT Locator check-in e-mail

-->

Bouldering is a style of rock climbing undertaken without a rope and normally limited to very short climbs over a padded mat called a crash pad or bouldering mat so that a fall will not result in serious injury. It is typically practiced on large natural boulders or artificial boulders in gyms and outdoor urban areas. However, it may also be practiced at the base of larger rock faces. Someone who engages in bouldering is called a boulderer.
 

Lamont walked up to the boulders, looking here and there. The whitish, light gray streaks here and there are chalk folks use to help them grip the boulders as they attempt to climb to the top. Believe it or not, we're only a short distance along a deeply rutted, dusty dirt road from the nearby Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway, well away from the snowy area of course.
 

Leland explained that they camped on the springy ground in the clearing in front of the line of boulders. There's Engine, waiting patiently for us to return so that we can continue to explore the area across the highway, near Widgi Golf Course.

 



More chalk streaks point out the paths to the top for many who love to boulder.
 

The guys have been here at least once, maybe more. I can't remember.

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No.18 - Trail of the Molten Land, No. 2

Click here for a trip to City Daily Photo, transporting you around the world every day.

On yesterday's post, someone commented, describing the trail thusly: "For being universally accessible, the trail looks very unobtrusive." I agree as I walked and enjoyed each sight, including every informative sign.




Step into another world, after you read the first two signs, left to right. Then you come to the top sign just as you're about to set foot onto the trail. Later on you come to turn-offs which would take you onto a different trail, thus the "Beyond This Point" sign. I want to get into better walking shape and visit the Trail of the Molten Land again so that I can turn off onto those other trails and see what I missed this time. For starters, I noticed that they slope downward quite a bit, so I imagine that the view is vastly different.



It began with a bang . . . The formation of Lave Butte. I hope you're able to read some of the sign. My favorite part is What's in a color? It goes like this: Lava Butte is not a solid structure, it's a big pile of gas-charged basaltic rocks known as cinders. Depending on factors such as mineral distribution within the rock and atmospheric conditions, cinders (scoria) can be found in shades of red, black, and even iridescent colors. The twisted tree trunk reminded me immediately of the Loch Ness Monster. Do you agree? Leland likes to take photos from a unique perspective.
 



Great Balls of Fire. I tell you what, when I stopped at this sign and read it, then looked up at the "snowballs" of lava, I was truly amazed. And very excited to be right there, near two "snowballs" formed 7,000 years ago. And there you can see Lamont and Leland on the trail just around a curve from where I'm standing. Once again, you get an idea of the height of these piles of lava.

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No.17 - Trail of the Molten Land, No. 1

Click here for a trip to City Daily Photo, transporting you around the world every day.



Lava Butte Cinder Cone, seen from the trail. I'm very happy that the folks did this: One third of the trail is a newly reconstructed section that is Universally Accessible, and the rangers did a super job on the recent trail construction.
 

Leland's walking beside the lava flow, not too far around the curve to the left--the curve in the trail shown in the first photo. Although I took this photo as we were headed back to the start of the trail, I put it here so that you could get the idea of just how tall that lava flow stands. Leland is right at 6 feet tall.
 

The single tree stands atop the lava flow.

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No.14 - Every foot we traveled to the top was worth it.

Click here for a trip to City Daily Photo, transporting you around the world every day.



NF-100 is the red cinder road to the parking lot at the top of Lava Butte Cinder Cone.
 

Here I am, at the 5020 ft. top of Lava Butte Cinder Cone. Whoopee! How did I get here, you're wondering, right?
 

Leland drove us right up that red cinder road to the parking lot. See Engine there, our Zipcar, the red Ford Escape? Now look past the parked cars to where it looks as if the level surface ends abruptly. Actually, it steeply slants downward. Notice the teensy person in the red shirt to the left of the restroom? That person's head, in relation to the roof of the restroom and the end of the level surface gives you an idea of the steepness of the slant. I managed, with the help of a sturdy handrail that you cannot see very well in this photo--it's lost in the foliage on the trees--to walk down the first part of that slant, let go of the handrail and walk the four feet to the door. I didn't notice the steps leading down to it from the other corner, steps with a handrail, until after I had let go and turned left to make my way to the door. Actually, I felt very proud of myself for not texting one or both sons to come walk on either side of me down that slant in the first place. Anyway, I got back up onto the level surface by myself, too, but I cannot remember for sure which method I used, steps or slant. Seems like it was the steps, now that I think about it.
 

I stopped after I got back on the level surface and took this photo, wondering if my fear of heights would compel me to remain there and miss out on what must be a monumental view. I took off walking, determined to make it. I realized that I could hold on for every step once I started up the incline.
 

The view from the first turn in the walkway, to my right.
 

The view to my left from the first turn in the walkway.
 

I made the second turn and stopped to take this photo. This gorgeous handrail, surely made of steel, and its rock walls convinced me that I could make it right on up to the top.
 

Before I started walking again, I turned to look up higher, leaned into the handrail, and took this photo of Leland and Lamont, already at the top.
 

I also took this photo of the entire crater, well all of it that I could see from that spot. At this point, I didn't realize that there was a quarter-mile loop trail around its edge.
 

I made it to the top! I took this panoramic photo from where I'm standing in the photo above, the one that Leland took of me with my iPhone. Yea!
 

I also took this photo from the same spot. The lava field blew my mind! Talk about learning something new each day. This particular Saturday was one learning experience after another. I loved it!
 

I noticed these bags of All Purpose Rose Sand beneath the stairs. Curious. I walked to the end of the stairs, feeling pretty good about how flat the surface was there around the Fire Lookout. Then I noticed there was no railing along the back side of the surface. So I walked carefully to that railing you can see on the right of the photo and turned back to look at the building.

 

Ah, the sandbags kept the solar panels in place. From this vantage point I looked around for a while, saw what looked like a path with no handrails slanting away from where I stood, and watched as a family of four--the children were probably seven and nine--walked right by me and on down the trail. Whoa! I looked some more and then noticed people walking ahead of them on the edge of the crater. I also realized I had not seen Lamont or Leland for a few minutes. I figured they were walking around the edge, too. So I walked back to the other side of the building where I could stand and see the entire loop.
 

I found Lamont first.
 

Then I found Leland.

Come back tomorrow for monumental views and teensy birds, plus that twisted tree to the right side of the crater.

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No.11 - My sons at The Writer's Retreat

Click here for a trip to City Daily Photo, transporting you around the world every day.



Friday, right after we arrived and brought everything inside, the guys sat down for a while. They're such good sports, posing for photos for me! Soon, our discussion of where to eat supper started. Didn't we have a great room to house our discussion? By the way, you can see the brown wooden edge of the desk in the lower right corner of this photo. Lamont slept on the floor between behind the desk, right in the corner, in his sleeping bag atop the air-filled pad he uses with it.
 

Saturday morning found Leland reading the book he had brought with him. He slept on this couch.



Lamont woke up a little later and joined in the early Saturday morning reading session with a magazine he found on the coffee table. Later on that day after we'd been out and about in the Zipcar and had returned to the loft for a rest, I read from David Lamb's "A Sense of Place: Listening to Americans." The guys watched TV for a while in the bedroom, stretched out on the bed--there was only the one TV in the loft. I knew that if I stretched out on the bed I would soon be asleep.

Mother's Day Mini-Vacation, No. 3 - the mountain's out!

Click here for a trip to City Daily Photo, transporting you around the world every day.



I wish I could remember exactly where we were when Leland said to me, "Look in your mirror." Amazed. I was totally amazed to see Mt. Hood in the distance behind us. For months Leland had driven this same route as part of his job at Provvista, so he knew exactly when the mountain would come out. Sweet. I checked the photo's exif data and learned that I took the last relatively close-up photo of Mt. Hood about 35 minutes before taking this one, but that doesn't really help me figure out where we were. But, we're out of trees galore on each side of the road and the terrain is pretty flat, so I know we're in the Oregon high desert.

I took several photos, trying to focus on the mountain in the mirror. This one pleases me most. That's Lamont looking out the window, wearing his sunglasses. Oregon's high desert glistened with bright sunshine, and at one point on the Zipcar's outdoor-temperature-reader-thing, it was 96 degrees. We rode the entire 157 miles from the guys' house to our rental loft in Bend with the windows down. Glorious way to start our mini-vacation. By the way, folks here say, "The mountain's out" when the sky is clear and we can see Mt. Hood from Portland, at least 60 miles away.