Hamburger Heaven in Hillsboro: Helvetia Tavern

My younger son Leland cooks at the Helvetia Tavern out in Hillsboro; it's a short drive from our apartment in the Northwest Hills. Mama and I love a good burger and fries; we consider good onion rings icing on the cake. Since May, 2007, we've enjoyed four meals there, twice with friends, twice just the two of us--most recently last Saturday when I got this photo of the grill and of Leland putting onion rings onto a platter. I waited until I was nice and full of my own burger, fries, rings and fantastic fountain root beer before taking any pictures.

Here's our friend Milton, who came all the way from Mississippi with his wife Kay to see us in May. He's taking a great big bite out of the jumbo burger.

The ceiling in the bar side holds quite a collection of baseball caps, replete with advertising and such.

Leland always likes to mug for the camera--what better place than beneath this sign that leaves nothing to your imagination about what to expect from your delicious food at the Helvetia Tavern--strickly tongue in cheek, of course.

Leland's totally focused on the pending orders; notice the evidence of how hot it is in the kitchen?

Step out the front door and across the street, you just might see these interesting critters.


This is the view of the building from the parking lot.

On our visit with our friends Danielle, Pat and Meehan, we not only noticed the critters but also this lovely sight from the back edge of the parking lot.

Driving back into Portland on Highway 26, an Edsel drove by--outta sight!

Red Church Door Update

My good friend Pat from Seattle sent two links loaded with information about red church doors:

http://www.motherflash.com/goodsamaritan/reddoor.html

http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1405775

Thanks, Pat!

Duncan, the Darling Dachshund, Gets a Bath

All three of us have finally gotten used to the distance between the faucet and the sink. We figure that the original 1924 fixture must have been where this more modern one is now installed.

Duncan scratched his nose when we left him at the vet's the other day to get his toenails trimmed. He rubbed it on the kennel, something he always does. Smart as he is, he still hasn't figured out that he cannot do anything about metal. I promise Mama's not squeezing him so hard that his little tongue is poking out. It's just there, cute as can be.
I promise Duncan's not drugged; he calmly accepts his Grandma's minstrations. His entire life, he's been such an easy dog to bathe.

How could you not fall flat-out in love with this little guy? Look at that sweet face.
I promise, my Mama bathes this little dog much like she used to bathe my brother and me. At times, we just knew our skin had been rubbed right off of us. I'm kidding, of course. She's gentle with Duncan, talking to him the whole time.
What a bunch of two-way love we've got going on here.

Duncan escapes in order to execute his own method of drying himself.
Shake to the left.
Shake it to the right.
Jump into your quilt on your chair.
Get tucked in.
Nap until you're dry.


Disclaimers: I promise, the kitchen sink gets a thorough cleaning after Duncan gets a bath. Our bathtub here in Portland has abnormally tall walls which makes it not a suitable place to bathe Duncan.

I cannot remember, as you can see, to put the camera on sport at opportune moments. Still and all, you get to visualize the gyrations much better this way.

Y'all Portlanders and Oregonians, Jacksonians and Mississippians, what do you know about churches with red doors, please?

Trinity Episcopal Cathedral is at the corner of NW 19th and Everett. I walk by it some mornings on my way to work. The red doors fascinate me. I can't help but wonder, why red doors on a church? Anyone? Thank you.

Two weeks ago last Sunday, Mama and I played Scrabble!

We turned off the TV, put Dean Martin's greatest hits in the CD player and spent a great couple of hours together. I'm resigned to the fact that more often than not, Mama beats the stew outta me--or most any other opponent--but it's still fun. She won the first game by a couple of points, and we played a second one.

What you see in the picture above is the board at the end of the second game, a momentous game--you'll find out why in a few more sentences.

In the background, see those sugary orange slices--what are they made out of, desiccated Jello? We store them in a zipped bag to keep out the ants. Let me tell you, those are some determined ants, climbing to the 4th floor to get to whatever excites their olfactory nerves. I don't even want to try to figure out the energy expended by the little suckers. Anyway, Mama gets addicted to orange slices every so often--I'll eat one or two, but I'm more of a chocolate lover.

Next to the candy, the purple shape with the gold stripe is a Crown Royal flannel bag. We keep the letters in it and draw them from it, too. I imagine that bag is from my brother's youth, once he came of age, of course. But even though this is a 1948 edition of Scrabble, as you can see in the photo below, it's not from my youth.

I don't mind telling that I was born in 1947, but Mama's pretty sure she didn't buy the game until the early 1960s. We both are certain that Daddy never, ever played Scrabble with her or anybody, which is further proof that she didn't buy the game until we'd settled in Jackson in the late 1950s. She and Daddy played canasta with their trailer park and/or work friends during the days we traveled the country for Daddy's job. However, we both remember her playing with the neighbor ladies (and me) on Beatrice Drive there in South Jackson, between Cooper Road and Woody Drive--those were our good ol' days. Now we're in our good new days!

Here's the score pad, right beside my empty wooden-letter-stand-holder. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to get up and go dig out the game from the cabinet to get the exact word, even if it might be in the instructions on the inside of the box lid--can you even believe that I won't do it? Y'all know how detail-oriented I am. But.

My get-up-and-go is all gone. I'm downhearted and depressed because Dale Earnhardt Jr. didn't make the chase for the Nextel NASCAR championship. Like all these commentators on ESPN on ABC and on Speed keep saying, "Junior drove his guts out." He was running 2nd and 3rd at Richmond in the last 100 laps, but with seven laps to go, his engine failed. I dreamed last night that I was in the infield at a race track, and Junior pulled to a stop across the track, in a white car. He got out and walked over to me to tell me something. The race must have been over because no cars roared by as he walked towards me, his red hair shining in the lights. I woke up before we got to talk. Drat. I guess he was gonna tell me it just wasn't meant to be. He did drive a white car tonight, a tribute car for Elvis. Eerie.

Thanks for letting me share that. I feel better already.

It's the score pad that explains why I labeled the second game momentous.

Take a look at the close-up. That's my score in the next-to-the-last column at the bottom-right corner of the tablet. I beat the stew outta Mama, for a change.

Labor Day Block Party at the Corner

Instead of driving vehicles, lots of people ride bikes in Portland. The garage provided the perfect parking spot for the bikes that live there and the ones over for the corner block party.

Mama and I went in the Buick over to Lamont, Lindsay, and Brody's for Labor Day. I made deviled eggs. As you can see by these pictures, we had plenty, plenty to go with them. Leland got to come, too, but Cristina had to work on her regular day off because the restaurant would be busy on Labor Day. Go figures. We sure did miss her.

Remember the tomato plants beside their driveway? Delicious looking and tasting, I'm here to tell ya.



Lamont's refueling the grill for the ribs. Everyone else is circling the table, loading their plates. Every bite tasted great.



Close your eyes after you get them full of the image of this watermelon. Imagine the sweetest, juiciest watermelon you've ever tasted. Multiply it by 10. Now you've got it!


Chris and Leslie's puppy Brixx now weighs 70 pounds--she's gaining a pound or two a week. You'll remember her from the 4th of July post, wearing a party hat.

Dale the Movie

For many of us who love the competition and the cars, the drivers and the crews, the sights and sounds of NASCAR, one man still stands above it all--Dale Earnhardt. This movie made me wonder again at the measure of men who possess an inner drive, who live long enough to make it, and who realize what they've accomplished. It seems evident Dale loved his life and all that he had in it. So, take the restrictor plate off your heart, sit back and watch when "Dale" runs again Wednesday and Thursday evenings at 8 p.m. on CMT, Ch. 61 on Comcast.

http://www.cmt.com/movies/dale/

First Female Beefeater Begins Job ... Wow

L-R: Chief Yeoman Warder, John Keohane, Warrant Officer Class 2 Moira Cameron and the Yeoman Gaoler, Vic Lucas

I found this photo at tvnz.co.nz, with no photographer listed.

Here's a couple of informative links:

http://www.mod.uk/DefenceInternet/DefenceNews/History
AndHonour/FirstEverFemaleBeefeaterIsAppointedAtTheTowerOfLondon.htm

http://news.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,30100-1282484,00.html

More Mississippi Memories

After seeing the sign above on the Mississippi segment of "The States" yesterday on The History Channel, I got to thinking about the summer of 2004 when I took part as a middle school librarian in the Fannie Lou Hamer National Institute on Citizenship and Democracy at Jackson State University.

Teachers came from across the country to attend a workshop entitled "Landmarks of American Democracy: From Freedom Summer to the Memphis Sanitation Workers’ Strike." By workshop's end, I realized the priceless value in learning the history of those landmarks and then visiting them. The worksho's biggest impact for me came from the words of Freedom Summer workers and a man with Dr. King in Memphis, from seeing the look in their eyes as called forth the truths and memories they knew they must share. They made it real for us and through us, for our students.

I took my photo of The Crossroads from the JSU bus window as we rolled to a stop. We turned right and headed north on Highway 61 to Memphis, but not before we ate lunch at Morgan Freeman's Ground Zero Blues Club, listened to some live blues from Terry "Big T" Williams, then toured the Delta Blues Museum in Clarksdale. (Lovers of the blues need to get to Clarksdale at some point in their lives.)

Here's my bluesman I painted in the late '90s. Click on the photo for a bigger view, please. Can you guess what structure I used for the eyes? The yellow background started out as a brown paper grocery bag. To raise the bluesman about a quarter inch from the background, I traced him onto the inside of several instant oatmeal boxes which I cut out and glued together. That makes it laminated cardboard, doesn't it? The little box by the bluesman's right foot says "Highway 61 Bottled Blues" on its cover and opens so that you can read "Get the Juice, You'll Get the Blues."

Links you might want to visit:
http://home.earthlink.net/~hamer.institute/PDFs/HHFall04.pdf
http://www.rhodes.edu/155_1814.asp
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=3821251
http://www.deltabluesmuseum.org/
http://www.groundzerobluesclub.com/
http://www.clarksdale.com/
http://www.civilrightsmuseum.org/

I hollered, "Mama! It's me!" And I was watching The History Channel.

Mama and I spent several educational hours today, in our airy and cool apartment, watching The History Channel's series "The States." Each hour presented information on five states. Mississippi came up in the 3 p.m. hour.

Elvis and Tupelo led off the Magnolia State's segment. I hope I remember the rest of this correctly--I'll do my best. A shelf filled with books by Mississippi authors came on the screen, with one of Jill Conner Browne's Sweet Potato Queens books front and center; it went by quickly, but I'll just bet it was "The Sweet Potato Queens' Book of Love." Anyway, the TV screen filled up with Jill, The Sweet Potato Queen, marching in the Mal's St. Paddy's Day Parade with other queens, on Capitol Street, right in front of the Governor's Mansion, in downtown Jackson, Mississippi. Another split second later, flabbergasted, I saw myself. I kid you not. Gone just as fast, but there long enough for me to holler and for Mama to recognize me. My word! I called my brother Howard who had this lovingly predictable reaction: "Now, that's weird." Amen, brother.
So, I wanted y'all to get in on the fun, but I don't have a photo of myself marching; however, you see here a shot a fellow queen got of me outside Hal & Mal's, after our part of the parade ended. You can tell that sequins are hell on fishnet stockings, can't you?

Let me make certain that you understand I owe all of this to Donna Ladd, editor of the Jackson Free Press, my hometown's one and only alternative newsweekly. In the SPQ realm of things, Donna is what's known as Wannabe, as in "Oh, I wanna be a queen, too!" You know I used to do all sorts of things for/with the JFP before moving to Portland--write, take photos, edit, fact check, karaoke, Pub Quiz, etc., etc. It was an ever-lovin' blast! So, when Donna asked me in 2004 if I wanted to be her Wannabe, Wannabe, naturally I stepped up, grateful beyond measure for the chance. If I remember right, I replied, "Do you even have to ask?" meaning "Yea! Baby!" I can't describe how great it was, marching along, not being recognized by anyone, waving, taking pictures. That much fun led to my getting to be in the next year's parade, too.

Here's Jill herownself, like I told you, marching along right in front of the Governor's Mansion. Do you think that that brown hair sort of hanging into the photo, top right, and the black piece of equipment, bottom right, is the videographer and his camera? Could well be, if you ask me.
In my humble opinion, you couldn't find a more fun thing to do with foam rubber, fringe, sequins, sparkly fabric, flesh-colored net and majorette boots. No way, no how.
P.S. Back in the good ol' days, Mama and Jill worked together at Sears Roebuck, also in downtown Jackson but pre-SPQ. Be sure to stop by www.sweetpotatoqueens.com.

Last Thursday, Aug. 30, 2007

First things first, I am tickled to finally get a photo of Leland with a bike, his second one in fact, recently put together for him by his brother Lamont. Y'all remember Lamont's orange bicycle in the picture in our building's lobby, right? If not, you can see it by clicking on February 2007 and scrolling down to Feb. 5. These guys are so much like their dearly departed Daddy, able to cook, to put things together, to fix things, to treat people right, to enjoy being together, to make their Mama proud.

I digress, happily.

The prospect of perfect weather and setting up on the same spot at the corner of NE 28th and Alberta made me feel good about this Last Thursday. The sweet couple in the Ethiopian grocery/restaurant we're in front of seem to approve of our returning each month, which makes us feel good. So, it took some time to get all of our stuff out and clipped or taped down to sort of counteract the fantabulous breeze and/or gusts.

Here's how it ended up, which must have been more appealing to potential customers because I actually sold some stuff. And got to talk to lots and lots of people. I met several other transplanted Southerners--a guy from Greenwood, Miss., and women from Arkansas and Baton Rouge, plus a guy who'd moved here 13 years ago from Florida. (I apologize for forgetting to take a picture of Lindsay's stuff. She did very well in the selling department as well.)


Don't you just love this woman's homemade gigantic googly eyes' headband? I do. Are you wondering what that is floating above my own head? It's the black-and-white maribou feather headband that my sister-in-law Vanessa bought me for my birthday from her and my brother. We found it a few Decembers ago, in Jackson at the Mistletoe Marketplace. It's so me. Thanks, Vanessa and Howard!
I know you won't have any trouble understanding that the maribou feathers attracted a whole lot of glances, etc. So, I wasn't surprised when I heard this guy pictured below say, "I love your hair!" and he answered, "I love your hat. Will you do something with me?" Turns out he's Michael Rockstar, a musical comedian and he wanted me to sign along with him, on camera no less, for PDX 49. Naturally I said yes. Who wouldn't want to possibly be heard and seen singing a TV station's ID along with a guy with those great curls? Naturally, I hammed it up as much as possible, extremely pleased that I couldn't see myself and thinking I'll never be at home when the spots run anyway, so I agreed to finish by saying "We're Portland!" with Rockstar and then happily signed the release one of the station ladies handed to me. As they turned to leave, I piped up, "I've done karaoke. Could ya tell?" They grinned, and he agreed to the photo. I was on roll, I'm tellin' ya! (For more on Rockstar, please read Amy McCullough's Feb. 21, 2007, Q&A with Rockstar at the Willamette Week's Local Cut, http://localcut.wweek.com/2007/02/21/qa-michael-rockstar-on-the-life-of-a-musical-comedian/.)
Picture this: I notice every once in a while that a small crowd gathers around the shop window to the west of the grocery, looking at something out of my line of sight. Finally, I can't stand it any longer, especially when I overhear someone say, "I wonder how she can do that without moving." She just does. Here's the proof, in living color. I don't know how she does it, but I will tell you that when I checked this first photo on my camera view screen, looked up and her and gave her the thumbs up, she quickly stuck the tip of her tongue out at me, grinned and was back in her pose in a flash. In a flash!
Not long after I took the photo below, the Open sign was turned off, and she walked down the sidewalk to my left, pushing a bicyle without any hint that she'd been using her muscles in any way other than normal. Wow. Would you call her a live mannequin?
Just before we started to pack up, the parking spot directly behind my chair opened, so Leland took the keys to move the car. While I'm standing in the space to save it--"You've gotta stand there and save it, Mom," I'd been instructed--here came the Good Humor Man! That sweet guy dug to the bottom of his freezer compartment, surely as deep as the word "Children," to retrieve a box of popsicles for little-ol'-lactose-intolerant me. I had a sky blue one. Sweet.