a little red hen

Knitting for The Dulaan Project

To the left, under Websites is The Dulaan Project, Knitting To Warm Mongolia.  Handmade garments by needleworkers all over the country are flown yearly to impoverished people in Ulaanbaatar, capital city of Mongolia.  What appealed to me was the inclusiveness of the project--any yarn or color, sizes from baby to adult--especially children 2 to 10 years.  And very helpful links to patterns used by others.

The photo here is Ron's knitting  sent this week in time for their July 1 deadline.  Bottom right is a tan and orange hat from his earliest spinning.  Top left, dark brown cable (his first!) scarf with orange trim.  On the right is a blue scarf from a trip to British Columbia a few years ago.  He used one of Ester Bozak's free patterns for reversible scarves.  I'd was surprised how interesting the yarn became with the dimension added by the stitch pattern.  Bottom left is a hat I knit for Ron a couple of years ago.  He requested something really warm, then realized that it was "too warm"--perfect for Mongolia.

Besides the website, you can read Mossy Cottage Knits, the blogger who does this project in cooperation with FIRE (Flagstaff International Relief Effort)and Kunzang Palyul Choling (KPC) Buddhist community of Sedona, Arizona.  Dulaan is the Mongolian word for "warm."  Now I need someone to tell me how to say it correctly.

Ron's enjoyed doing these, improving his newly-acquired knit skills, and learning more about how his spinning relates to working garments.  Now we have a almost a year to accumulate more, perhaps get some knitters in his men's knitting circle to join in. 

Embracing My Inner Little Red Hen, I Channel Emma Goldman

Can women laugh about things they are really, really serious                                                  about?  You've seen the knit red wiggler worms here, the  variety of Condom Amulets under Safe Sex.  It's one thing to write about them separately, could I combine the two in a three-minute reading at  the IWWG conference?  The title of this post is how I began.  Oh, yes, also used the chance to pitch for listeners to read my blog--and yours too.

In the "I'm next" mode here I am with 2 knit worms wrapped around my head.  Around my neck wore this particular Condom Amulet, knit with hemp, nicely set off by a dark blue blouse.  The 300-plus women responded--either  "Aha!" or giggle or I'm-not-sure-about-this laughter.  It is hard to describe the validating environment.  In the second wave of the women's movement, this was our dream.  I was privieged to be able to attend. My support system includes a man with a highly developed sense of equality; many of the women I met did not have similar luxury.  When women on scholarship were introduced, a new 80 year old friend remarked how rarely as elders we have the chance to be in a creative community  with so many very young women and women of color.

In the days following a number of women expressed their surprise about my "news" of the growing crisis of HIV in women over 50--heterosexual women.  Some wanted to know if I sold the Condom Amulets.  No, but I think a selection of them could be fund-raisers for IWWG's scholarship program. 

Granny Trek Alert...June 24, the Granny Peace Brigade set sail on their journey from New York City to Washinton, D.C.--arriving for peace demonstration on July 4.  Did you see them on CNN--Vinie Burrows, great grand mother and Marie Runyon, 91, and telling us to "Keep on, keeping on, to end this war!"  It's been raining steadily on the east coast.  Marie looked less than the crisp self you see in this photo from April's Harlem Grandmothers against the War demonstration--on Tax Day. Speaking of my neighborhood, Charlie Rangel, my congressman, delivered a generous check to their effort.

Diane Dreyfus, youngest of the group, sends me emails about their stops along the way--Friends Meeting in Plainfield, New Jersey...Borough Hall on Staten Island to join Peace Action and read the names of the 117 dead from New York State.If you'd like to read her blog and/or support the  Granny Trek, click here.

Feminism, women in community, concerned grandmothers. elderbloggers--whatever title you choose--we have many faces.  We are shifting the universe.

Between There and Here

Friday night I returned from summer camp-- hard beds, shared bathrooms, laughter and tears: the International Women's Writing Guild 29th summer conference, an amalgam of consciousness-raising, girls's camp, how-to-write-better. 

Re-entry to the City called for a fast read of the week's New York Times.   A headline, "Old Shells Suggest Early Human Adornment," intrigued me--a report from archaeologists' research in the June 23 Science Magazine "...human self-adornment, considered a manifestation of symbolic thinking..." may have occurred earlier than had been thought--100,000 years ago. 

Why do I care?  My use of the natural holes in marine shells in my own Ceremonial Neckpieces is a connection to my long-ago forebearers in Africa.  At the writing conference, several women asked how I'd put together what I was wearing.   I explained that whenever possible, my goal was to use natural holes in moonsnail, whelk, olive shells that could be made large enough for a wire to slip through. Before this new research, I'd seen prehistoric jewelry by the Hokkam people in the Southwest that used entire shells.  But that was only 300 B.C.

After the Times, catching up on the community of Elderbloggers was on my list.  Ronni Bennett, reminded by last week's posts of her original hometown in Portland, Oregon, recalls her Aunt Edith, the city's Rose Week Queen in 1924.   Millie Garfield is as disinterested in the "Da Vinci Code" movie as I am. Claude, who moves about her city with camera in hand, announced her second blogaversary at Blogging in Paris.  While at the IWWG Conference, I held up the flag for our cause.  More to come.

Back next week...

One summer as I walked in the sand at                                                                                           Holden Beach in North Carolina, this moon snail lay at my feet.

Moonsnails, many of them in the sand, resembled the beads I'd been using in Ceremonial Neckpieces--eye-beads to ward off evil.  Moonsnails became natural eye beads in my work.

It surprises me to be drawn to magical ideas--Condom Amulets to herald safe sex and moonsnails as good eyes.

Portland, Oregon: Plus and Minus

June is the best time to visit Portland.  Without planning it, we arrived the weekend of the Rose Festival.  And it is the time when beautiful, glorious roses line every curbside, most front yards.   Though we missed the Festival, we had a fine time at the Farmers' Market on the campus of Portland State University...more our kind of thing.  We went with our daughter Rachel, Zach, and Zoe (for whom we found some beans).

(Click on photos to enlarge.)  Besides roses, Portland is about coffee, or Coffee.  Which explains this large installation with its simple sign that greets visitors as they begin their visit to vegetable and flower stalls.  And exotic foodstuff; we bought almost-to-die-for Chicken Liver Pate at Viand Meats.  Zach had a moment or two on the violin, an offer from a local music school.

              Another day, we got off the TriMet trolley, for Zach to splash around in Jamison Park Fountain.  Newly opened in the Pearl District, this is both a kid-and-adult-friendly environment. A block square open plaza with "steps" where people sit on the upper levels.  Water pours out from the lower levels, just enough for to get feet wet--then turns off, then on again. We could use this in New York City--right in midtown! Portland also has Powell's, the city of books.

To visit Powell's is a book-reader's fantasy come true.  Room after room of books...new books shelved alongside used ones, smart and helpful staff, a down-home coffee shop.  And books, books, books.   Though we're partial to the mother of them all, the store on Burnside Avenue, we've become friendly with the smaller one on Hawthorne.  Powell's is addictive.

So, what could be wrong with Portland:  the city touted for thoughtful planning, an environmental consciousness, many, many bicycles--and bicycle-related events, high anti-war consciousness?  What could be missing?  As Ron said in wonder when our daughter and her spouse moved there in the late 1990s,"No sales tax?  There's no sales tax?"  That's right.  Result:  a troubled public schools system, down-sized social services.  Nice place, not paradise.  We love visiting.  We enjoy our adorable grandchildren; as a plus, we have a "time-out" that every New Yorker needs from our own noisy city. 

BETTER IN PERSON

Almost four months since our last visit to Portland, Oregon--before Zach was                                   riding a two-wheel bike.  During our short visit, he became proficient in turning around and delighted us with his talk about trains. 

Over the years, I've envied--that's the right word--families seen in airports where grandchildren exploded with enthusiasm at the arrival of grandparents.  "Grandpa, Grandma!" greeted us this time.  And baby Zoe was there too.  No picture of this wished-for moment; I have the memory.

There's a story about the famous photographer, Imogen Cunningham. Her three year old son came running into the house with a bouquet of yellow flowers he'd just picked from their garden.  "Wait!" she said, grabbed her camera to take a photo that became one of her famous images--a story told with ruefulness by her grown son.

Portand has a great light rail system.  Riding within downtown is free!  We took Zach on several trips.  Only on the last one did Ron and i notice that as each stop was announced electronically, it ended with, "This stop was brought to you by [local advertiser's name]."  Is this what is meant by freedom having a price?  Also in downtown is Union Station, an early 20th century place where Zach was thrilled to sit for a long time to watch freight cars slowly going by. 

And Zoe?  Eating black beans with her hands and smiling are how we see her   at nine months.            

                                       

Paul's Warm Knitted Heart

Knit One Red Worm! was the message I sent into the universe in 2000.  Amazingly, over 100 knitters, crocheters, felters responded.  Two of them were men.  One was a man I taught how to knit while we were both vacationing in San Miguel Allende, Mexico.  Steve became a skilled knitter in no time at all; his creation was one of the more innovative in This Dirt Museum: the Ladies' Room, my kitchen composting installation in Queens, New York, 2001.

And then there was Paul Magnusson, from the state of Washington.  He sent me photos of his knit worm draped over his leg, in the woods, told me stories about his knitting.  You can see Steve and Paul here--you can't miss either one--on my Cityworm website.  Fast forward to last month.  I posted on a knit listserv about happenings at Knitty City.  And that brought me a hello from Paul with an unusual attachment:  this bravura knit piece he'd made after heart surgery a year ago.  Coincidence: about the same time as Ron, my spouse.  He sent this message:

It would be fun to have my heart posted on your BLOG.  A knitting friend suggested that I design and knit a backup heart after my heart surgery, so I did.   It is close to actual size,  reasonably correct anatomically, including each artery and vein being surgically sewn onto the approporate internal chamber.   One can feel the atriums and ventricals inside.   It has been fun to share it with the medical people, especially nurses. I just completed the second pair of camouflage mitts with openings for index finger and thumb.  This is so one can tweak focus knobs of binoculars or telescopes while  birdwatching.

Cathy Carron, author of Hip Knit Hats, has the pattern on her website Pond Edge so you can make one too.  "Paul's Warm Heart" is her perfect title.                                                               

Seeing Our Grandchildren!

It's been several months--too long--and we're about to see Zach and Zoe in Portland, Oregon.  Here they are on a recent trip of their own.  Of course, we will take many, many photos. 

One posting will go up next week, then there could be a week or so before I post again.  Taking to read--

Andrei Codrescu, New Orleans, Mon Amour                                                                               Molly Bruce Jacobs, Secret Girl, a Memoir                                                Lane & Shengold, Take Ten:  New Ten Minute Plays                                         Judith Adler Hellman, Mexican Lives

Always schlep too many books, sigh.   

If you are in New York City next week, there's a Granny Peace Brigade

happening on June 13.  Click on the sampler to enlarge it.  All the important

details about the "Granny Trek" from NYC to Washington, D.C. are there--

and how you can support the trip. 

Women and Leadership Today

"In her first five months in office, Christine Quinn has emerged as a surprisingly bold, and calculating, city leader, not a bleeding heart, but a tough and savvy politician."                         New York Magazine , June 5, 2006

Sitting on the subway yesterday, I listened to the two high school students standing in front of me.  "I'm going to run for class president," one young woman said.  Her friend replied with enthusiasm.  "But," she continued. "You know how Jeremy trashed Sarah last year when she ran.  Called her a 'bitch'."  Friend responded that Sarah did have strong opinions.  The quote at the top and this exchange resonated for me around women and leadership.

This past year I've met monthly with a group of women for a two-hour focused conversation.  "Human Rights in an Age of Terrorism," and "What is Our Idea of Commnity?" have been topics.  At the end of one salon we wondered whether there would be a woman president in our time, decided "Women and Leadership."  Or, "Where's Bella Abzug when we need her?" was important for our attention.  We live in a city that had also produced Shirley Chisholm, the first African-American woman in Congress, who went on to run for President. We call these subject-specific gatherings, "The Salon." Our size, limited by the space in someone's apartment, stretched this time to 13 for the May salon.

We're members of a new organization, The Transition Network started four years ago by two women about to retire themselves. Salon participants are a very small yet representative sample of TTN--all over 50--several hurrying to our 6 p.m. meeting after work, others, like myself, discovering new ways to use time once the career-door has closed.

Two of us came with the same article about Hilary Clinton. What about Cindy Sheehan, I asked.  Like Bella and Shrley, here's a woman who has become a leader without connection to a male politician. We agreed to focus on what cultural issues keep more women from moving into higher office--rather than talking about personalities.  Enculturation, language, and biological differences were addressed.  We were fascinated as two women exchanged about "alpha females" described in a recent book by Frans de Waal, Our Inner Ape.  How early do the messages begin for girls? Has that changed in the last 20 years; are our granddaughters in a world moving back to the 1950s?

As Linda Ellerbee, reviewing her long career in TV, noted in the New York Times (May 27, 2006), "Now they say, 'Well, of course you can be on the Supreme Court, as long as you fix supper before you leave for the office and go pick up the kids on the way, too...this is not the progress we had in mind; it's only half of it." 

Our excellent Salon organizer, Bethene,* summed up the thread of our two hours: What keeps women/me from believing a woman would would be as effective a leader as a man?      Am I more confortable with the way certain women present themselves when I think about them   as leaders?  Where do my own prejudices lie? 

What are your thoughts? I look forward to your Comments.

*Bethene's  blog, Sensei and Sensibility blossoms with her post-retirement discovery of Ikebana.  Her deep connection with flowers and gardens is evident in her description of The Salon as "Miracle-Grow for ideas."   

                                                                                  

Sylvia Jorrin, New York Shepherd

It is an especially New York City story, a wintry one.  One cold day I was knitting and talking with Hannelore Hahn director of The International Women's Writing Guild.  She suggested I read a book, Sylvia's Farm about a latelife farmer and shepherd, Sylvia Jorrin. She was right and January was the perfect time.          

Soon after, I met with a knitting friend at a local cafe. Over her shoulder I noticed a woman wearing a lovely white wool sweater.  "Judy, there's the most wonderful handknit on a woman behind you.  And she looks like someone I've met."  Then I heard the sweatered woman mention Delhi, a town in upstate New York near where Ron and I had honeymooned almost 40 years earlier.  When we parted, Judy checked out the sweater, "Very nice; maybe it's a Gansey knit."  Introducing myself to this stranger, I discovered why she looked familiar:  I'd seen her on the cover of her book!  She was visiting in the City.

That cafe encounter led to unexpected wool experiences.  Exchanging by phone and U.S. Mail (no emai address she proudly announces), Sylvia  learned of my enthusiasm for handspun yarn that Ron could spin.  "I have sheep with beautiful fleece!" Sylvia is very declarative.  Fine; she'd send me a few ounces.

Thinking he could spin it at once, Ron discovered otherwise.  So it went back upstate to a to a mill for carding.  On its return Ron easily spun and plied this East Freisan Dorset-Finn Cross, a mix of sheep breeds. I tried this swatch on three sizes of needles--8, 9, and 10.  The best "fabric" seemed to be created by #10 needles.   

Sylvia, a delightful story-teller, returns to my neighborhood this weekend.  On Saturday, June 3, at 4 p.m, she'll talk about her book, her spiritual connection with the land and her journey from designer fror Ralph Lauren to one-woman farmer...another event at Knitty City, 208 West 79th Street.  And she is bring fleece so we can see the origin of our end product, yarn. 

More later... about my wish to "adopt" The Prince, a black sheep in her flock. (Click on his photo for larger image and see how beautiful he is.)