OLD Whidbey Life Magazine

Category: Blogs

One more library-love blog from the Free-Range Reader

BY ZIA GIPSON, Oct. 11, 2013

“Revelations of a Searcher”

Our lives are full of searches… for our car keys, for the pair of reading glasses we swear we left on the bedside table, for that bill we need to pay or the cord needed to run this or that device. More pleasurably we’re in pursuit of the perfect melon at the farmer’s market, or the dahlia just bursting into bloom for our favorite vase. As if these searches weren’t enough, our lives are cluttered with electronic hunt and seek. We spend out days on the lookout for the message, photo or a document we were perusing before we got distracted.

Library users are hunter-gatherers by nature. We peruse the stacks and tap away on the electronic keyboard to access the databases. I started accessing library collections electronically more years ago than I can remember. In those early days one used a modem (remember those?) to log into library collections to reserve materials. Looking back, it’s amazing to me that someone like me, who is decidedly NOT an early adopter, was able to accomplish this. Now of course, there’s a robust catalogue system to access the library’s holdings. But for the convenience of potentially seeing “everything”, we’ve lost the time worn wooden file cabinets holding the library card catalogue. The cards held the accumulated wisdom of many librarians and we are poorer having lost the carefully annotated library cards.

I’m no pro at using the database, called Polaris, that operates Sno-Isle Libraries’ system, but I’ve recently been sleuthing the database using ‘publisher’ as my search field term. In a previous blog I mentioned my admiration for the publisher Thames and Hudson and my interest in almost any volume they’ve published. Their well-designed and beautifully illustrated books cover many art-related topics from Native American to subcontinent Indian and all the cultures and artistic periods in between.

One book by T&H I found this way is “Vincent’s Trees: Paintings and Drawings by Van Gogh” by Ralph Skea. I learned that Van Gogh, as I have always known him, preferred to be known as Vincent. He signed his paintings with his first name and used that name rather than the patronymic Van Gogh. Skea’s survey of Vincent’s paintings and drawings about trees covers the short decade of Vincent’s life when he considered himself a “full time” artist. During that 10-year period he made over 900 paintings and 1100 drawings. Wow!

Another group of Thames and Hudson books might be of interest if you are planning a vacation in Europe. I recommend any of their ‘most beautiful villages in…” series. You will have to choose between Provence, Tuscany, and Greece to name three. I am sure they are working on the most beautiful villages on Whidbey Island, but it’s not in the catalogue yet.

Using the same search term, “publisher,” I’ve perused the listings for some other fine book producers. Interweave Press is a solid bet for high quality artistic how-to books. Our Sno-Isle system shows a 185 records searching Interweave. “Quilting Modern: Techniques and Projects for Improvisational Quilts” from Interweave is on my table as I write this. “Steampunk Sourcebook” published by Dover, of the clip art family, is one of 284 listings. “Steampunk Sourcebook” and several other books include CDs of vector or jpeg images, which you can copy to your computer and manipulate to your heart’s content.

Lark Books is a publisher of delicious artistic eye candy. You may have encountered the volume “500 Teapots” and 35 other books in the series (art quilts, beaded objects, bracelets, cabinets) with the same photography-dominant approach. Need some inspiration? One of these “500’ series books is a good place to start.

Museums are publishers, too. Sno-Isle has 67 titles published by New York’s Museum of Modern Art. “The Steins Collect: Matisse, Picasso, and the Parisian Avant-Garde” is an example of a MOMA book available at Sno-Isle. This catalogue is worth checking out if only to see the series of photographs of the Gertrude and Alice’s living rooms on which hung the modernist masterpieces of their collection. Each living-room image is captioned diagrammatically so one can see which pictures were hung exactly where over time. I also liked looking at the series of paintings of Gertrude’s and Alice’s white poodles all named Basket.

Missed an exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum? You might find the catalogue among the 19 books published by SAM in the collection. For example, “Ancestral Modern: Australian Aboriginal Art” is the catalogue from last year’s knock-out art exhibition. North Light Books is a publisher of how-to-make-art books, as well as the manuals to help us creative types figure out what to do with our artistic product.

Sno-Isle also has both “2014 Photographer’s Market” and “2014 Graphic Designer’s Market” to prepare you for the marketplace.

Next time you’re in front of the computer, search Sno-Isle by publisher. I bet you’ll come across a new treasure with which to while away the hours.

My “Catch of the Day” is Robert Crais’ “Suspect,” about a detective and his German Shepherd police dog, Maggie. I hope Crais writes more of these featuring this duo.

In the meantime, don’t forget to put libraries and librarians in your bedtime prayers. I love my library!

Zia Gipson is a mixed-media artist who is dreaming up something to submit to Northwest Designer Craftsmen’s exhibition “Tangible Evidence,” which will be at Schack Art Center in Everett next year.

Editor’s Note: Thanks to Zia Gipson for this series on the luscious life of the library lover, and all things bookish! Zia is signing off of Whidbey Life Magazine’s Blogs, but we’ve heartily enjoyed her informative contemplations on her latest book finds. Look for Gipson’s work as a prolific mixed-media artist on the island and wherever exquisite art is showing. Thank you, Zia!

October 11, 2013
Minding the Sky | Making jam while the fruit is ripe
BY JUDITH WALCUTT, Oct. 4, 2013

If you haven’t seen much of me around the island this past summer, it’s because I was making jam. I know that sounds like a nice, quaint homey thing to do, accomplished by people who have nothing else on their plates and so, along with cleaning the dust bunnies from behind the washing machine, or organizing the sock drawer by color and texture, these unbusy persons make jam. How lucky they are to have nothing more pressing to do!

For me, however, busy is as busy does and the practice of making jam is not the superfluous, extra-curricular activity that it sounds. It falls into the category of sine qua non ─ vital to my mental, physical, and spiritual well-being.

“Really?” you are now asking, with some incredulity, “Mental? Physical? Spiritual? JAM!!!?”

Yes. Jam.

The physical part begins with watching the trees and bushes along Honeymoon Bay Road as I walk up and down it every day. Season in, season out, I do this daily routine at a good, brisk pace with the hope that at the end of the race, I’ll walk just that way, across the finish line, into the hereafter.

The wild, cherry plums of Rabbit Hill add their own flavor to Judith’s jams./Photos by the author

If I miss even one day of this walking practice, which gives me ample opportunity to mind the sky and the evidence of moment-by-moment change in the natural world, I get “Billy Elliot” feet ─ feet that just want to jump up and down and be out under the holy blue heavens. In my treks, I have noticed how the blackberries transform from the scrappy, dead brush of winter to the tentative, green stuff of spring, to the fairy-like flowers of May. The petals drop at the start of true summer sometime after the 4^th of July, revealing green fruit that darkens day-by-day as the sun moves across the sky, flushing pink and then mauve, arriving on one fine August day at the black and shining fruit that surprises me every time I taste its many flavors; each berry a new and different taste, sweetened in the shifting afternoon sun.

For my mental health, I have watched the wild cherry plums that have grown bravely, lusciously on volunteer trees along the road. One such tree was so laden with fruit the size of half-dollars and the color of a rosy, gold-tinted Vermeer, that the branches were bowed down and became entwined with the vines of blackberries that grew on the ground beneath it. To help it out, I took my garden shears with me one day and clipped the tangle of berry thorns back so that the plums could ripen unencumbered, the easier to pick for the jam pot.

I have known these plums since they were blossoms ─ like frosting on birthday cake and full of the gasping beauty of the spring. I have witnessed them drop petals like pale lavender snow, leaving just memories of their former delicious beauty to blow about in the later March breezes. Their nuggets of green fruit were hard and more like green rocks from the beach, back then. Bit by bit, one beautiful day after another, in the most beautiful summer in recent memory, they turned into fruit that was both sweet and sour, and tasted of the sun, of the blue sky, of the sound of wind and water and white caps, of morning bird song, of crows’ caws, of raven’s cackle, of silver leaves moving in a breeze, of moonrises over Holmes Harbor ─ these plums tasted like it all ─ of everything wonderful that happened last summer.

Jars and jars of summer jam, a la Judith Walcutt.

When I gather the fruit at it’s perfect ripeness, and then preserve it in a jar with a modicum of sugar and lemon, I feel I’ve captured a piece of that ephemeral beauty, which will succor me and those I love through the dark, grey days of winter to come. I feel better about the falling of fall for having stored up such resources as the memory of summer days spent climbing trees for fruit or reaching for the most perfect berries across the thorny arms of it rangy branches.

That accounts for a number of the physical and mental benefits of making jam, but the enlightening aspects of the process are in a class of their own.

As an example, when I make the jam itself, I am thinking, “Here is beauty in a jar; here is the love I can make of it, sweet and sour, ruby-red or tawny-gold or a blackberry-blue, which is the color of moonless nights. And yes, there is something else I do when I stir my pots of bubbling brews, mixtures of rhubarb and raspberries, or just plain wild cherry plums dropped from a tree that grew, like a free spirit, on Rabbit Hill above Sunlight Beach. I do what I do with a glad intention. All these fruits gleaned in the golden days of summer are picked with a happy hand, knowing that the tree is grateful to be relieved of its fruit, since to be left unharvested must break a tree’s heart, if not its limbs, when winter snows throw down their weight of whiteness.

Then there is an ingredient added in the cooking process, which is the deeper spice of this recipe. The secret is this: I practice mantras over my jam as I stir and stir; I speak ancient syllables for compassion, for courage, for healing, for joy, for kindness. The jam accepts this recitative of loving thoughts, like a flavor it is longing to absorb. Somehow, in this way, the fruit and sugar combine and seem to shine the better together for it.

In August, when I was at the height of jamming, I discussed this aspect of the process with a friend of my son’s who was visiting. He had noticed my “cooking” technique of mumbling over the rattling pots and shared with me that his Italian Catholic grandmother used to make spaghetti sauce over which she did her rosary and, he admitted, he’s never had a better tasting marinara since. That’s my point exactly ─ the food we prepare with positive intentions, with kindness, with whatever spiritual light or just plain love we carry within us ─ food made with kind intentions ─ just tastes better than the kind made without a thought or worse ─ in anger, sadness, distress, or bewilderment. I try to practice this mindfulness whenever I cook, but sometimes it works out better than others. I have burned a few batches of cookies in my time, and prepared my fair share of grumpy food.

The author presents the final product of her fruit-filled summer days.

When I make jam, I become absorbed in a kind of infatuated love for these transient artifacts of nature’s innate, spontaneous generosity, and that gives me the joyful perseverance to carry through the whole process ─ from picking and washing the fruit, measuring out proper proportions of fruit to sugar, stirring it all on low until it bubbles with enough heat to gel. Filling the boiled jars still hot from their water bath until, one by one, batch by batch, I capture the summer in its prime and hold it in a jar on a shelf in the pantry, until gift-giving season comes around.

For the artistic piece, if making the stuff with attention to detail weren’t enough to qualify it for “artwork” status on its own, I make my own labels, with watercolors joyfully applied and with hand-lettering of inscribed names such as “Last Sunset of Summer,” and “Smooth Water, Early Morning.”

Call it what you will, I call it an emotionally satisfying and uplifting experience ─ just like art by any other name.

If you missed making jam this summer, there is still time to catch the stragglers of the harvest season, to turn apples and pears to sauce and spiced condiments, make jelly with the end of the mint, or grab the last peaches from Eastern Washington for chutney. I even saw a blackberry patch on a recent walk that was still making fruit ─ enough for a jam pot or two. If you get out there and look, you might find some, too.

Locally, the Bayview, South Whidbey Tilth and Coupeville farmer’s markets will be open until the end of October for your shopping and gleaning pleasure, and Maggie’s Organic U-pick patch on Bailey Road on the South End still has rhubarb. Harvest what you can and preserve it in your own style. At Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s, you and those you pass it on to will be grateful for the bounty you saved.

It’s really very easy. Anyone can do it. Get some fruit, stir in some love, and give it away!

Judith Walcutt is a writer living and jamming on Whidbey Island. She made over 300 jars of jam this summer, is working on a book on the relationship of fruit in a jar and peaceful mind inside. She hopes to finish one of three novels already in process.

Simple Recipe for Jam:
- 4 cups fruit
- 3 cups sugar
- Lemon peel or green apple peel.
Simmer fruit on low until it bubbles. Gradually Stir in sugar. Add a strip of lemon peel or green apple peel to add pectin.

Continue cooking on low, stirring from time to time, while preparing jars to be filled. Read directions on the Ball jar box for how to do this properly.

When fruit and sugar reach 220 degrees F, ladle into hot, sterile jars, put on clean, warm tops, hand tighten, await the satisfying “thunk” sound of the lid making a vacuum, as jam cools.

Date it, label it, and save for a cold winter day.
October 4, 2013
Sue the Screenwriter cheers on indie filmmakers

BY SUZANNE KELMAN, Sept. 27, 2013

Hurrah for the independent!

I love this time of year. There’s nothing more enjoyable after a summer of energetic activity then closing my door, lighting a fire and settling down to watch a good movie. And when I’m in the right mood, there is nothing I love more than a good independent film.

I am fascinated by indies for many reasons, one of them being it’s an opportunity to partake in another storyteller’s personal dream or passion. Often choosing uncomfortable subject matter or thematic elements that just wouldn’t work in the mainstream, an indie filmmaker burns with a story that just has to be told; one they were compelled to write and produce, and somehow some of that raw passion always seems to spill out onto the screen.

This summer I was invited to attend several indie screenings, one of them written and co-directed by my friend, Persephone Vandegrift. A group of friends and I attended the premiere of her movie, “All Things Hidden,” in downtown Seattle. This brave story aims to draw attention to the lasting effects of domestic abuse on children. In a recent interview with Her magazine, Persephone told Kyna Morgan that she hoped the film would leave people with hope and courage, no matter how young or old they are and no matter what the situation. “All Things Hidden” was recently selected for the Seattle Social Justice Film Festival, and I applaud her efforts to bring domestic violence issues to the forefront. You can read more about “All Things Hidden” at http://www.allthingshidden.com.

Indies can also be fun.

Another premiere I attended was for the film camp project here on Whidbey Island. Run by film advocate and tireless volunteer, Chris Douthitt, this had to be my favorite screening for its sheer fun factor. Basically, groups of young people are given a camera, some editing equipment and three weeks. During that time they have to write, cast, direct, film, act in and edit a movie.

The last couple of years, I have been invited there on the first day of camp to advise them on their screenplays. I am always in awe when I arrive three weeks later for the screening of a complete movie experience, including posters and blooper reels. And talking about indie creativity, I did wonder after reading the script on the first day how one of the filmmakers was going to film a “demonic hellhound.” Fortunately for us somebody’s dog obliged and was filmed in such a way that it didn’t really look like he was trying to lick his victim to death.

I actually think the most exciting time in history for indies is right now. In a recent interview with the Hollywood Reporter, Steven Spielberg predicted the inevitable collapse of the established film industry due to the chances of high-budget movies flopping. I, however, think the indie market is going to continue to grow. How can it not, with filmmakers tapping into social media, Kickstarter and Indieflix to garner support? This fact, I think, is reflected in the growth of film festivals over the past decade. Writer/producer Stephen Follows recently did a very interesting study on film festivals and found that there are about 3,000 film festivals worldwide, with 75 percent of them created in the last 10 years.

Another reason I love indies is because I always feel I’m an active collaborator in the production process. Half the anticipation of going to see an indie movie set in space, for example, is in seeing how they manage to pull it off. I am often in awe of the creative choices a film crew has to make to fully tell their story, but still appease a tight budget.

Sue the Screenwriter lends her advice to young filmmakers at a screening in Oak Harbor.

That was one of the things highlighted, when I touched base with Orson Ossman, another local filmmaker whose film premiered this year. When I asked him what the hardest part of filming his recent indie “The Phoenix Project” was, he admitted that the lack of crew and budgetary constraints were tough. The group that call themselves the Ironwood Gang had a very short time frame to pull it off, which left them with little room for error. In order to do produce the film, they had to live and work together in a small space. Orson admitted that going in they had zero contingencies, plus filming a full-length feature was a steep learning curve for them.

Hard to believe, because when I attended the screening of the movie, which is about four scientists’ quest to create life, I thought it was beautifully filmed and had some incredibly heartfelt moments, along with a memorable score.

Orson has certainly come a long way from the first time I saw him onstage as a tap dancing reindeer! I wish the Ironwood Gang all luck as they move forward to take “The Phoenix Project” onto the film festival circuit. You can follow their journey at the Ironwood Gang.

Orson tells me the Ironwood Gang intends on making many movies together. I was glad to hear it, as I settled down to pick another indie for the evening. It’s comforting to know that we will still have something to watch if Hollywood implodes into a golden ball of glitz and glamour. And by the way, if that happens, don’t worry Steven, there will always be a place waiting for you behind an indie camera. We’ve heard you’ve got talent.

Suzanne Kelman will be teaching a six-week screenwriting basics class from 10 a.m. to noon on Saturday mornings Oct. 12 through Nov. 16. Look for more details at Whidbey Life Magazine and on Drewslist, or you can email Sue the Screenwriter for more info at suzkelman@gmail.com.

September 27, 2013
Duff ‘n Stuff gets some afternoon delight

BY PATRICIA DUFF, Sept. 25, 2013

Thanks to some beautiful musical maneuverings of our highly cultural community, I was able to surprise my husband with something special on a recent Sunday afternoon.

I told Jim that I was taking him somewhere; a surprise! Did he want to go? Sure, he said, sort of reluctantly. Don’t worry, Babe, I assured him, it’s going to be something good.

Not only was it good, it was great! It was an afternoon of musical delights, thanks to the exquisite musicality of pianist Ted Brancato and his quintet who played in Freeland, along with three young, up-and-coming musicians.

Pianist Ted Brancato soaks up some sunshine. (Chris Drukker photo)

When we rolled into the sanctuary at Trinity Lutheran, Karl Olsen was just introducing “First Inversion,” a youthful variation of one of many jazz groups formed out of the pool of young jazz musicians that seems to be bred from some kind of Whidbey Island effluence of moon and musical genius. It was three extraordinary young musicians led by the excellent jazz chops of Jack Hood on the piano. They were opening for Brancato & Friends, and fell into their own trance playing some original tunes and a few classics, including Hood’s haunting “Avenues,” where Kaj Olsen licked it up on his guitar, while Joe Ballestrasse on the upright bass and Hood fell into that place you feel all good jazz musicians go, letting the music feed them. This was Hood’s song and you could feel his connection to the music through the way he fell into the piano.

Seeing the level of these musicians, and how sophisticated they are musically at such a young age is familiar sight for me. They’ve grown up on that magical Northwest water that seems to turn out good jazz players around here. It helps too that they get to be around lots of local mentors, such as South Whidbey High School music leader Chris Harshman, jazz piano teacher Maureen Girard of 88 Keys Piano Studio, and Karl Olsen, the music director at Trinity.

Professional drummer Ben Smith lent them the perfect lucidity of his beat and they rose to it, giving all of us in the padded and comfortable church benches a reason to bounce in our seats. We were charmed further by Kaj Olsen, following in the vocal footsteps of his Dad (a professional singer who sings with the Brothers Four), snapping out such tunes in worldly Sinatra fashion. I was particularly tickled by Kaj’s rendition of “My Foolish Heart.”

Harshman beamed from the seats, knowing that three more of his South Whidbey High School “jazzletes” were reflecting back the standard by which the community has all come to know and respect his SWHS Jazz Ensemble. Dad Karl was doing a little beaming of his own.

When Ted Brancato & Friends took the stage, I could only imagine that perhaps this was where the boys of First Inversion would be one day. Brancato and his “friends,” Smith on drums, Chuck Deardorf on bass, Matt Langley on Saxophones and percussionist Tom Bergersen, blew us away with song after song by composer, Brancato, who plays the piano with such vigor and passion, that I was worried the bouncing in my seat would become far too conspicuous for the sacred venue and mainly older, gentler crowd.

But I so wanted to get up and dance! From the opening tune “Prayer,” through another 12 tunes to the final “Pleasure Ride,” Jim and I were flying with the incredible artistry of these musicians. Brancato named his first CD after the title song, “The Next Step,” written by songwriter Gene McDaniels, with whom Brancato had a long songwriting partnership and whom he pays homage to during his sets. Brancato played the songs from the new album and, I’ve got to tell you, it’s worth picking up. This guys does it all and I was surprised to hear that this was his first album.

It was indeed an afternoon delight and Jim was happy.

Check out samples from Ted Brancato’s new album here.

Look for the lineup at Trinity coming up on WLM. The next concert is at 7 p.m. Friday, Nov. featuring the Whidbey Island Community Orchestra.

From my heart full of music,

Patricia Duff

September 25, 2013
Introducing the Storied Stylist, Julie Cunha’s take on the world of design and style

BY JULIE CUNHA, Sept. 20, 2013

“How I became the accidental tourist and wound up being an artist and designer”

As far back as I can remember there were two things my mother was passionate about; travel and traveling. She was a single parent with two little girls. Sadly, we were not blessed with a money tree in our backyard. And traveling to those far and exotic places you would read about in those magazines (at the doctor’s office) were for the most part, expensive. Fortunately, we had one thing going for us;-our mother was very resourceful. At eighteen, she landed her first job with United Airlines, as a ticket agent. By the time I was born, she was managing a travel agency.

By the late 1970’s my mother would eventually have her own travel agency. Of course, we didn’t realize that our lives as world travelers would abruptly end. Because it was a family business, everyone worked in the travel agency. There was no more time to book our own flights, when we were busy booking others!

Instead of jumping from one red eye to the next; we were brushing elbows (including me)-with my mother’s travel clients. At one point I was going to a party or delivering people’s airline tickets every other weekend for three years.

This is the part where I became the accidental tourist. I became the accidental tourist of other people’s homes. From college students, Green Berets, plumbers, and Martial Arts instructors to divorcees. I’ve seen a lot of interiors in the eight years we owned and operated the travel agency.

In some ways it was no accident that I became an accidental tourist. It did not take long before I developed a fascination for the objects and ways in which people chose to create their own personal space. It was as though each room represented an intimate allegory of their life; and I was the tourist in each one of their stories.

Of course, some people are better at expressing themselves then others. This would explain why some interiors were phenomenal and some were just phenomenally bad. Now, does this make me an authority on interior design? No, but I’ve seen a multitude of spectacular homes. And believe me; if I can remember most of them from thirty years ago, they were at least for me, unforgettable.

What makes a great home? And what are some of the reasons that a person can create a great story of their home? The secret is that people choose to respect each room as an individual space. It’s as though each room has their own personal conversation with you. A good story flows throughout the entire house and thus the viewer is held captive with the turn of each corner.

From the personal collection of Cunha, a stylish arrangement. (Julie Cunha photo)

Surprisingly, some of the most memorable homes were not the most expensive ones. Instead, they were from people that have made deliberate choices to design and decorate their spaces with the intention of telling their own story in the most artistic way imaginable. Didn’t Pablo Picasso once say that: “Everything you can imagine is real?”

So the next time you find yourself in a home for the first time, before you pass judgment on whether or not the aesthetics are attractive to you, instead, ask yourself: Is this space telling me a good story? You might be surprised by the answer.

Julie Cunha Interiors specializes in expertly edited restyled vintage and modern interiors. She lives and works on Whidbey Island. To inquire or to make an appointment, email juliecunha5@gmail.com or call 360-969-9921.

September 20, 2013
Play That Song Again: Homage to 1978 and its music

BY ERIK CHRISTENSEN, Sept. 19, 2013

“My Big Fat 1978 Playlist — a top five selection”

With all due apologies to Charles Dickens and the year of our Lord 1775, 1978 was truly the best of times and worst of times.

A gallon of gas is 63 cents.

George Mosconi and Harvey Milk are murdered in nearby San Francisco.

Sweden is the first country to ban aerosol sprays, in concern for the ozone layer.

Anita Bryant continues her anti-gay campaign from Dade County, Florida. I swear off the orange juice she endorses on TV.

Al Unser wins the Indy 500.

California’s Proposition 13 destroys my school’s sports and music programs.

Ford begins recalling Pintos, after certain models are found to explode into a fireball if hit from behind. (I just Googled “1978 Ford Pinto gas tank explosion” and it’s there! Grainy test footage from the National Safety Board. Can you imagine if camera phones and YouTube existed back then? The Ford Pinto would cease to exist in ONE DAY.)

Anwar El Sadat and Menachem Begin sign the Camp David Accords. I clearly remember the news coverage on this — actual peace in the Middle East. God bless Jimmy Carter.

Coming back from a 14-game deficit, the Evil Empire New York Yankees win the American League, beating my beloved Boston Red Sox on a home run over Fenway Park’s Green Monster. I sit on the couch and watch in disbelief. The man responsible? Bucky Dent — a weak-hitting shortstop, now and forever known around Boston as “Bucky F-ing Dent.”

Prime-time TV includes “Happy Days,” “The Muppets,” and “The Rockford Files.” (Are you kidding me? I still want a gold Pontiac Firebird Espirit and a corduroy suit jacket. Jim Rockford was the man.)

As I play back the film of 1978 in my mind, running through all these public and private memories, as always, is music. Great music. Terrible music. It was, quite clearly, the best of musical times and the worst of musical times.

I was a sophomore in a Bay Area high school, successful in athletics, but painfully, cripplingly shy and self-conscious. My main concerns were football, driving my parents’ station wagon, and dreaming of my neighbor Diana Murphy in a tight sweater.

There was plenty of new, interesting music filtering into the mainstream in 1978, mostly from England and New York City. Elvis Costello and Graham Parker brought some real soul to that new thing called punk rock. Devo was releasing angular, jagged songs that actually got played on the radio. The Cars had an edgy, poppy first album. Talking Heads did a spooky retake on the classic Al Green/Teenie Hodges song “Take Me ToThe River.” And sometimes, late at night, KYA FM 93.3 would even play Ian Dury’s “Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick.” (I really feel sorry for my parents in retrospect… I mean, what kind of teenage kid walks around the house singing that chorus? ” Hit me with your rhythm stick/ Hit me gently, hit me quick/ Hit me! / Hit me!” Even today, it feels good to sing that. Try it: “Hit me!”)

There seemed to be a lot of songs about night in 1978. “Hollywood Nights.” “Because the Night” (a classic!) “Sharing the Night Together.” Even “Night Fever” by the Bee Gees.

And on that topic, if you want bubble-gum music, or disco teetering on its last roller skates, 1978 is where you want to go. The aforementioned Bee Gees were everywhere, and as you read this, I know you are doing the John Travolta “Stayin’ Alive” dance move. It’s OK. We all do that. “Take A Chance On Me” by ABBA. “Disco Inferno” by the Trammps. “Boogie Oogie Oogie” by A Taste Of Honey. “Your Love Is Like Oxygen” by Sweet. And we mustn’t leave out “Copacabana” by the omnipresent Barry Manilow.

As always, (as explained in my “High Fidelity” post a few months ago) I spend my time compiling Top Five lists. Today is no different.

Here are my All-Time, Top Five Albums from 1978:

Number five: “Running On Empty”

Jackson Browne’s ode to musicians, support staff, and life on the road. There’s a certain poignancy and sense of time passing in these songs:

In sixty-nine I was twenty-one and I called the road my own
I don’t know when that road turned onto the road I’m on…

Interesting how a man in his 20s (Jackson) is singing to a kid in his teens (me) and it’s all about sadness and loss. The lyrics still move me deeply.

‘Cause when that morning sun comes beating down
You’re going to wake up in your town
But we’ll be scheduled to appear
A thousand miles away from here.

Number four: “Some Girls”

Just when the late 70s were going to render the Rolling Stones extinct, the boys found the perfect mix of punk, disco, cocaine, and spandex to release maybe their best record ever. Radio hits: “Miss You.” “Shattered.” My favorites: the twang-fest country of “Far Away Eyes” and the brilliant remake of Smokey Robinson’s “Just My Imagination.” And has there ever been a more “Keef” song by Keith Richards than “Before They Make Me Run”?

Booze and pills and powders
Well, you can choose your medicine…

Number three: “Live at Budokan”

Where did Cheap Trick come from? One day, nothing, the next, these great songs all over the radio, dripping pop hooks and accompanied by screaming Japanese fans. My California high school PE class had a swimming unit every spring, which meant a bunch of feathered-hair rowdy teens getting on the yellow school bus heading down to the city pool every day for two weeks. I had PE at the end of the day that year, so it was always warm, and I remember our bus driver playing “I Want You To Want Me” over the loudspeakers on the drive back to campus. Carefree afternoon air blew in through the open bus windows, and, hopefully, the bus would go slow so the cassette would reach the song “Surrender” and we could all sing along to every teenager’s favorite lines:

Mommy’s all right
Daddy’s all right
They just seem a little weird…

Number two: “The Last Waltz”

All the arguing, bad feelings, and personal tragedy that later befell members of The Band was still in the future. In 1978, we just had this glorious farewell concert and the roll call of amazing 1960s and 70s guest stars: Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond and Joni Mitchell. Better yet was Rick Danko’s heartbreaking, always-seemed-to-be-singing-in-a-minor-key voice on “It Makes No Difference.” Folk, blues, soul, gutbucket garage rock — these guys could do it all; melt your heart with “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” or make you dance like the funky white person you are to “Up On Cripple Creek.”

And now, the number one, all-time, top five album from 1978: “Darkness On The Edge Of Town”

Still one of my all-time favorites from Bruce Springsteen, and one that doesn’t sound as dated as some of the other selections mentioned here. Upbeat and danceable at one moment, serious as a heart attack the next. Bruce’s greatest gift as a singer and a songwriter is this: He’s not kidding. He means what he says.

The dogs on Main Street howl, ‘cause they understand
If I could take one moment into my hands
Mister, I ain’t a boy, no, I’m a man
And I believe in a promised land.

And if Cheap Trick was perfect for the PE bus on a sunny day, there was no better album to listen to lying in bed late at night with the lights off, looking out my window to the empty streetlights on Carlisle Way:

Well daddy worked his whole life
For nothing but the pain
Now he walks these empty rooms
Looking for something to blame
You inherit the sins, you inherit the flames
Adam raised a Cain.

1978.

That was 35 years ago. There’s still good and bad news… the Middle East, school funding cuts, assassinations, narrow-minded creeps pushing anti-gay legislation. The Red Sox have won the World Series. Twice.

We’ve come so far, yet somehow we haven’t really changed anything.

I teach high school sophomores and they don’t know it, but I remember exactly what they’re going through.

And every once in a while, on a warm drive home, I roll the windows down in my truck, all the way, just like the yellow school bus coming home after PE class. I play a song from 1978. I play it loud, and it’s good. I sing along.

Erik Christensen teaches at Oak Harbor High School, writes songs and poetry, and dropped an open can of soda on the new carpet when Bucket Dent hit that home run.

Erik Christensen Band plays at the Oak Harbor Tavern Friday, Sept. 27, and at Front Street Grill in Coupeville Wednesday, Oct. 9.

September 19, 2013
Pigment, Pandas, and Perspective: The power of endorsement
BY ANNE BELOV, Sept. 13, 2013

These are still strange times, not to mention hard times, in the arts. I keep hearing that the recession is over and that fortunes are rising once again, but the way it was has no relationship to the way it is now. So what can we do to change this dynamic for the better? How can we make use of the new modes of communication to get the word out without being a spamming nuisance?

Psst…do you want to know a secret? We all have a super-power at our disposal. It is the power of endorsement, and whether you are using it on the wide world web or in the cereal aisle at the local grocery store, it is a powerful force for good.

We in the arts can bestow as well as benefit from, a little word of mouth endorsement. It’s not hard to do, and you don’t have to go out of your way to do it. You can share any information, whether it’s an art show, a theater or musical performance, or news of a crowd-funding project. It can be as subtle as a share on Facebook, or a request for support. I like to think of it as enlightened self interest, because in the long run (and sometimes the short run) it benefits me as much as the person or event I am endorsing.

Pandas in the service of others. (Anne Belov)

In the early days of social media (which I totally missed, due to my luddite tendencies) you could get away with plastering the cyber waves with your message of buy my paintings, read my book, see my show. The information channel was so new and such a novel concept, that people hadn’t figured out the rules yet. Try these tactics now and your message will be ignored or deleted in a New York second. But now, we’re farther down this road and there are rules of engagement:

I am much more likely to follow through and look up a project (and maybe even support it) if the person posting about it on Facebook takes the time to write a sentence or two and tell me about their connection with this person. Tell me why you thought it was a cool or worthwhile project, and why you supported this project.

It’s all about the connections. Your reach extends not only to the people you know, but also to the people those people know.

Illustrations by Anne Belov. (All rights reserved)
1. The endorsements should move in more than one direction. It’s not meant to be a quid pro quo, just good manners, and it’s not just all about you. If you have been on the receiving end of someone else’s endorsements or help on your project, you might consider spreading the word of not only that person who endorsed you, but anyone who does work or has a project that you think is interesting.
2. Having done two Kickstarter projects and assisted on three others, I’ve become sort of a crowd-funding junkie. I follow and support other projects as well. Because we maintain our project page and database after a Kickstarter campaign, we can reach out to our supporters and bring other projects to their attention. Again, just sharing the link isn’t particularly effective, but if I write something about why I support that project, some of my supporters may come on board as well. I try not to erode their trust by doing it too often, so when I do, people take notice and check it out.
3. When we have been fortunate to be supported in what we do, we owe it to ourselves and our karma to “pay it forward.” And if someone has assisted you on a project, it’s nice to thank them publicly so that some good fortune or karma can bounce back their way.
Of all the habits that you can get into, this is the best, in my opinion. Our esteemed publishers here at Whidbey Life Magazine, Sue Taves and Jan Shannon, had an idea to give the creative community on Whidbey Island an information outlet that had not existed before. This is endorsement in action! Vicky Brown, aka the Chief Milkmaid, endorses other people more than anyone I know, and because she usually includes a few words about why she is sharing a link or project, I almost always check it out. A big huzzah to you all.

So go ahead, mention a book you’ve read, a project you support, an artist you admire. Show up at a music performance or an art opening. It will make you feel great.

Anne Belov paints, writes, makes prints, and is the founder of The Institute for Contemporary Panda Satire. You can find her paintings at the Rob Schouten Gallery, her cartoons on The Panda Chronicles, and her new book here. She also writes regularly for The Whidbey Life Magazine, a free journal of art and culture on Whidbey Island. Read her recent interview in the July Issue of The Write Life Magazine, an online publication. Her main regret in life is that there is no MacArthur Grant for Panda satire.

Editor’s tip: Check out Belov’s paintings in WLM’s Virtual Gallery through September on the homepage.
September 13, 2013
Duff ’n Stuff: On how I love to become intimate with strange characters
BY PATRICIA DUFF, Sept. 9, 2013

I’ve been cast in a play.

It’s a great role; “Margaret” in David Lindsay-Abaire’s “Good People.” The play doesn’t open until May at OutCast, but sitting here in September knowing what I know, I think, “Oh shit.”

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great part, in a play I love, with my favorite director. I’m really looking forward to it. But, still, I ask, “What the hell am I thinking?”

Being cast in a play is always a great feeling and probably why I’ve been a theater junkie for ─ yikes ─ almost 30 years. You get the part. You’re flattered. You think, “Oh, good. Somebody WANTS me and I get to join in the reindeer games! I get to create something.”

Here I am with Gail Liston, Marta Mullholland, Noelle Weiner and Jennifer Bondelid backstage for “Oh What A Lovely War” directed by Sandy O’Brien for OutCast in 2012.

But, then you get the script and think, “Shit!” because you know it’s community theater and you’re a volunteer and you really have to commit, because your community is relying on you to come through for the show! They want it to be good; to be entertaining, so you have to work your ass off. And, yes, you know it’ll be fun, but you remember that meanwhile, you have to keep your job and run your household and workout and love your family and friends.

“Oh, shit. What have I done?” you think, “I have to create this character with a South Boston accent in this number of weeks, while I keep everything else going? Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Then I turn to the script (that whore), sitting there on my desk calling to me like a Siren, luring me back to the fray.

There’s so much to love there.

I love the cover of scripts:

I love cracking it open for the first time and reading about the birth of the play:

GOOD PEOPLE received its world premiere at the Manhattan Theatre Club (Lynne Meadow, Artistic Director; Barry Grove, Executive Producer) on February 8, 2011. It was directed by Daniel Sullivan …

The cast was as follows:

MARGARET ……………………………………………………..Frances McDormand

STEVIE …………………………………………………………………..Patrick Carroll

DOTTIE …………………………………………………………………Estelle Parsons

JEAN …………………………………………………………………Becky Ann Baker

MIKE ……………………………………………………………………..Tate Donovan

KATE ……………………………………………………………Renee Elise Goldberry

Here’s where I have a moment of job envy because these people all have my dream job. I imagine how cool it would be to be in a play with Estelle Parsons, and why didn’t I go ahead and move to New York and become a professional actor? And can I even deign to share the role of Margaret with Frances McDormand, one of my favorite actors ever?

I continue to the list of characters:

CHARACTERS

MARGARET – white, about fifty.

STEVIE – white, late twenties.

DOTTIE – white, mid-sixties.

JEAN – white, about fifty.

KATE – African-American, early thirties.

Various offstage voices, probably pre-recorded.

PLACE

The play is set in South Boston’s Lower End, and in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts.

NOTES

The name “Margie” is pronounced with a hard “g” in the middle, not a “j.”

I start to get excited again because it’s set in Boston. I lived in Massachusetts for a pretty long time and I think I understand the Boston mind, a certain provincial quality and plus all my high school friends have super thick Boston accents, which endear them to me more, so there’s that automatically endearing quality of a play set in Boston that makes me want it even more. But then I think again, “Shit! A Boston accent. A Southie accent? This is going to be hard.”

I look at the opening page:

GOOD PEOPLE

ACT ONE

Scene 1

South Boston, Massachusetts. The alley behind the Dollar Store. There’s a dumpster back there, a rusty chair, and a door labeled “Dollar Store – Deliveries Only.” The back door opens and Margaret, about fifty, comes out with Stevie, her manager, late twenties. Stevie carries a folder.

And then, I’m gone. Totally hooked into the character from the first page, my head swimming with ideas, hearing the accent clearly, picturing each moment of every conversation and caught in the magic of a playwright creating an authentic life of place in 75 pages.

I hate him. I hate him for creating this perfect bit of theater and wish it was me who wrote the play. I’m jealous.

But, then I’m over it. I love him for creating it and I want to dive in; I want to know these people; tell this story; make Margie real. I’m in love with Margie, with the play and the playwright.

I get ready to fall back into my love relationship with acting, which comes with its hardships. But here are the best parts:

I like moving around on the stage, feeling my physicality and feeling the audience’s living, breathing presence come back to me. I like that I become a conduit for the playwright and that the director uses me to try to shape what she is trying to communicate to the audience. I like that my ideas for the character are sparked at the first reading of the play and that I feel a little excitement at the prospect of getting to know a new character, with whom I will have an uniquely intimate relationship by opening night if I succeed.

I think I am compelled to act onstage, simply because I enjoy the challenge and want to be better at it. Each character I’ve played has been a conundrum, a puzzle I want to solve.

I also like difficult crossword puzzles.

“Good People” will run at OutCast Productions’ Black Box Theater at the fairgrounds in Langley, May 16 to 31.

From my actor’s heart,
Patricia Duff

What’s coming up for theater on the island:
- “Much Ado About Nothing” plays its final weekend, it’s free, at 5 p.m. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, Sept.13 to 15 at Henry the Tent in Langley.
- “Too Soon for Daisies” is at Whidbey Playhouse in Oak Harbor through Sept. 22.
- “Play On!” runs from Sept. 20 to Oct. 5 at OutCast in Langley. Get tickets here at Brown Paper Tickets.
- “Blithe Spirit” runs from Oct. 11 to 26 at Whidbey Island Center for the Arts in Langley.
- “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” is at Whidbey Children’s Theater Nov. 8 to 17 in Langley.
Patricia Duff is a freelance writer and journalist and the editor of this magazine. Reach her at editor@whidbeylifemagazine.org.
September 9, 2013
In Search of Truth and Beauty: Compassion, patronage and the continuum of giving

BY JONI TAKANIKOS, Sept. 8, 2013

“A Story of the Importance of Patronage, Here, There and Everywhere”

Decades ago on the island of Manhattan, a young writer named Truman Capote, who had relocated from the southern part of the States, began to experience some success publishing his articles and stories.

His good friend Harper Lee, a young woman also from the south, relocated to the “island of possibilities.” She was a writer who made her living as a bookkeeper.

Capote introduced her to some of his NYC friends, who included a husband and wife who were quite wealthy. For Christmas that year, the couple gave Lee a year’s salary so she could stay home and concentrate on her writing. She did and produced “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the Pulitzer Prize-winning book that was important in its messages about the evils of racism and prejudice; and helped to change the culture and morals in the South, and throughout the United States. Both the book and the film continue to inspire new generations with its message of compassionate action.

Harper Lee never wrote another book during her lifetime, but thanks to patronage, she was able to write the one book that lived inside her, a book that reshaped our world.

When we allow ourselves to receive whatever help comes our way, in all of its forms, we step into the creative and generative field, where all things are possible, and all voices can be heard. In these days of interconnectedness, via the power grids, routers and social media platforms, we are presented a myriad of ways to give, and also become aware of the projects and needs of many.

A recent New Yorker cartoon included a wife lamenting to her husband that they would not be having steak because their Kickstarter campaign had not been funded. Even though we may feel a bit saturated with all of the “asks” we receive in our inboxes, I appreciate living in a world that is beginning to open more to the possibility that it’s okay to ask for not only what we need, but for what we want. After all, we can make choices about what we want to give to.

A wonderful and engaging fundraiser in this community once told me, “It is important to let folks have the opportunity to give.”

That door of opportunity is now open wider to include not just wealthy philanthropists, but also those of us who can give $15 and feel that we are supporting individuals or causes we believe in. Just like in the film, “A Wonderful Life,” when the disastrous fate of one family is saved, in one day, by their community all pitching in a few dollars each. It gave George Bailey and his family not only what they needed to survive their dire circumstances, but also the love that those dollars represented, and with that the Bailey’s flourished. In our island community we have many wonderful organizations we can choose to support with both our time and our dollars.

One of my favorite nonprofits from which I have benefitted directly is Hedgebrook, the Langley retreat for women writers from all over the world, as well as our tiny island, giving voice to hundreds of women who are forever changed by their Hedgebrook experience, enabling them to step out and create dynamic change with their words and deeds. Hedgebrook hosts its annual open house on Saturday, Sept. 14, a day that provides a wonderful peek into this powerful place, where new works are born and writers flourish. It is always a lovely afternoon of good food and music, as well.

My other local favorite nonprofit is the Friends of Friends Medical Support Fund, which helps locals get the health care they need, and pays for medical expenses that fall outside the insurance realm, such as ferry tickets for doctor visits. Friends of Friends holds its annual fundraiser, the Mr. South Whidbey Pageant, on Saturday, Oct. 5 at Freeland Hall. This event is one of the most delightful fall evenings you will ever spend, surrounded by community and the sweet, talented, brave and funny local men, who step up onstage at Freeland Hall to entertain a raucous crowd, strutting their sweetness to raise funds for Friends of Friends.

So whether it is a Kickstarter campaign for an artist or an organization, for your goddaughter or the kid down the street, who is in need of a musical instrument, or maybe the man in line at the pharmacy, who cannot afford his wife’s prescription, we live in a world where giving and receiving can become one circle, if we choose it to be so.

“Imagine all the people sharing all the world.” – John Lennon

Joni Takanikos is a Hedgebrook alum, and continues to be a grateful recipient of patronage, that has allowed her to travel, write and record her music.

September 8, 2013
The Chief Milkmaid of Little Brown Farm talks tomatoes
BY VICKY BROWN, Sept. 6, 2013

I promised you a blog with a beautiful and delicious roast.

I’m sorry, it will have to wait.

Roast season is right around the corner, but have you seen those tomatoes?

I couldn’t stop myself. Market has been so delicious. We are heading into what is undeniably the best food season of the year.

Cherry season is delicious and ushers in the fullness of spring produce after a long winter. (Finally, something other than kale and chard!)

Summer is announced with fresh squash blossoms, arugula and berries, berries, berries!

Once tomatoes arrive in the Pacific Northwest, it is your warning that summer is on its way out. Enjoy it, grab it, embrace it, watch the summer days slip through your fingers like the sand that slips through your toes at the beach. The sunsets will try to distract you from the shortening days. The sunny days will try and lull you into a complacency that it will never end. The flavors will leave you swooning in a stupor of denial that this glorious place could ever be cold and grey. But before it becomes time for winter squash, slow cooking and roasts, I offer you one more distraction before summer turns to autumn and the cycle of regrouping for renewal begins again: My favorite salad of summer; insalata caprese, Little Brown Farm style.

Your ingredients:
- Tomatoes — Fresh, local, heirloom. Anything else is a crime, punishable by disappointed tastebuds.
- Basil — Fresh and local; know your farmer, people!
- Cheese — Please tell me you know what I’m going to say. Fresh and local and, I’ll say it once more, know your farmer. If you can get mozzarella, go for it, but be sure you know where the cows come from. We at Little Brown Farm have learned to make it with stunning results, using two styles of goat cheese.
- Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar — Since this isn’t readily available from a local source, ask your local specialty food shop for the best. Don’t skimp here.
- Salt and pepper to taste.
Caprese 1:

The first Caprese salad was inspired by an intern at the local Bur Oak Acres farm in Langley. She gave me one of her favorite tomatoes and told me about a vertical Caprese salad. Using that inspiration, I started to play.

I cut that beautiful tomato from the base towards, but not through, the stem.

Then I stuffed each slice with a basil leaf and a slice of Little Brown Farm Caprizella. This is what that cheese was developed for, to pair with the savory flavors of summer. I drizzled olive oil and dribbled balsamic vinegar over the top and onto the plate.

Presentation was spectacular and the taste was sublime.

Caprese 2:

I had a customer at a local market tell me how she made a Caprese salad. Even though hers was prepared as individual salads for a dinner party and I was just serving my family. I tried to emulate it.

I sliced a beautiful tomato from Willowood Farm in Coupeville like I was putting it on a hamburger. I laid a slice on each dish, added two or three leaves of basil and a ball of Little Brown Farm Caprine Cream Chevre. Upon that lovely presentation I, cracked some black pepper, poured olive oil and drizzled balsamic vinegar.

It was lovely and delicious!

I wish I could take the credit. While the cheese was definitely a key player, the preparation was simple. However, the true stars of the show were definitely the tomatoes. I am so grateful for the incredible farmers that grow such delicious food!

Can I share one more cheesy snack I made? (It was mostly just to satisfy me so I wouldn’t eat the Caprese salads before I got these pictures.)

The Little Brown Farm Pyramide, paired beautifully with pears from Martin Family Orchards of Orondo, Wash., which are in season now. Simple. Delicious. The snack was delightfully presented on a “Dobby” plate, made by artist Jordan Jones, a talented potter and friend.

Next time, I will offer up some lovely slow-cook ideas to get you through the short days of winter.

For now, enjoy summer’s last hurrah at a local farmers market. (Bayview Farmers Market is open Saturdays through Oct. 26; then look for the winter market at Bayview Hall Saturdays between Thanksgiving and Christmas). We will be happy to see you there!

Side note: The pretty flowers in these photos are edible. The blue/purple ones are borage and have a bit of a cucumber/melon taste, followed with a fishy flavor I didn’t enjoy. Perhaps next time I will wait to serve them with my salmon. The nasturtiums come in varying shades of yellow, orange and red (orange is the most common) and have a peppery (black pepper) bite to them, which I did enjoy.
September 6, 2013