Nearby Iris

Memorial Day

Growing up, a lilac bush sat at the corner of our garage. The fragrance of lilacs always brings back a significant memory from my childhood. Each year, Mom would gather armfuls of lilacs to take out to the graves on Decoration Day (It wasn't called Memorial Day until 1968.)

It was something my family did. It was the only time of the year I remember visiting graves. There were two cemetaries we visited, one out the Lewiston Highway where there were the graves of my sister Linda, who died at birth, Dad’s parents, his sister Dorothy, his uncle Frank and some cousins. The other was in Albion, a small town nearby.

I especially remember the Albion cemetery. It was on, what seemed to me, a lonely hillside. It was old. Many of the graves seemed abandoned and the dates on them were from the 1800’s. Folks from my Dad’s family, uncles, aunts and cousins, were buried there. We would park on a narrow, winding dirt road that led part way up to the hilltop, gather the containers of lilacs and walk the rest of the way. I remember feeling an awareness of lives that had been lived fully before I was ever born. It was one of the first memories I have of personalizing history. Who were these people? What had they felt? What joys had they experienced; what tragedies?

We would quietly find the gravestones, dust dirt and leaves away and place the fragrant lilacs. Mom would explain the relationships between the names etched in the stones. I remember the sun shining and always a slight wind blowing there. I remember having a sense of my relationship to history. They were moments of my childhood in which the obsession with “I” began to fall away.

Mega Mansions & Trailer Parks

The engine of a plane is the backdrop of this moment. I live on an international airport with floatplanes leaving and arriving throughout each day, rain or shine. A number are private planes ferrying folks to their island homes in the San Juans. Cruising through the islands you see mega mansions on cliffs. Nice but complicated. I can’t imagine living in a huge dwelling. Boat living for twenty years does not have me longing for more space. In fact, if I moved, what would appeal would be something small and unusual. A loftish type existence sounds fun. Some place I could decorate interestingly, uniquely, with odd flare. I’m totally fascinated by vintage Air Stream trailers that people have gutted and turned into retro-fantastic dwellings. There are a few trailer parks around the world filled with these creations that are rented out motel-style. I’d love to have the luxury to redo one. Why not, a retro Air Stream near an ocean beach somewhere, or as an office?

As an undergraduate, I lived in a trailer in an actual trailer park that sat just off campus. I bought it for $1200. It was cheap digs and fun living. The “park” was inhabited by struggling students and a couple of resident older folks to whom we turned for sage advice or how-to stuff. I wish I’d taken pictures but don’t think I have even one. It was an evolutionary and “heady” time for me, just out of a divorce, back in college, discovering feminism and my intellect. With just a bicycle for transportation and then my first “solely owned” car, a VW Bug I got around just fine. A while back I found the website of a store I used to frequent and sent them a note about my memories of that time.

1974 to 1976 … Wow! A magical time in Moscow for me and many others. I lived in a small trailer at the base of the university and traveled by bicycle. Back in college after a divorce in my mid 20s, my passion and time were given to the also emerging University of Idaho Women's Center with Corky Bush, Trynn Speisman, et al. And, my mind was expanding philosophically and politically.

I came across your website accidentally while searching writer's guidelines (I've been a writer and psychotherapist for many years). I stopped and smiled. I have to share that a pleasant and powerful sensory memory kept returning 30 years later every time I entered the Puget Sound Consumer Cooperative here in Seattle, until it recently went upscale, alas. That memory was of The Good Food Store. They say the brain's hippocampus pairs emotion and long-term memory. Being on my own in 1974, discovering my sense of self and the impact I could have on social issues was so exhilarating. I read Our Bodies Ourselves and Diet For A Small Planet. I debated feminist issues and took whole foods cooking classes.

I've carried with me a recipe I learned in those classes during my time attempting the vegetarian life. I make it periodically (because I love it and also because it brings back good memories). Its taste and smells always take me back to Moscow and feminism and bicycles and warm soup enjoyed over engaging conversations.

Vegetarian Split Pea Soup

Ingredients
5-6 cups water
2 cups split peas
1 small onion, diced
1/2 cup pearled barley or rice
1 tsp. Salt
1/2 tsp. dill seed
1/4 tsp. each sweet basil, oregano, mustard powder, celery flakes and black pepper
1 moderate handful toasted sesame seeds

Instructions
Bring water to rapid boil. Add split peas and salt. Let boil 3 minutes or until soft but still intact. Add barley, spices and onion; continue to cook. After about 1/2 hour, add sesame seeds. (If untoasted, stir in a frying pan on stove top using high heat till they start to turn golden.) While simmering the soup be sure that heat is on medium or lower all the time; too high a heat will destroy the vitamins. Soup is done when peas are dissolved and grain is soft.