The Secret Lives of Feral Aardvarks

A recent poll sponsored by the National Geographic Magazine found that the least interesting mammal in the world is the North American aardvark and a close second is the South African aardvark. This suggests why only 24 people in the world kept aardvarks as pets and four of those people were cousins. (Probably 28% to 46% of the people who started reading this column have stopped reading two  sentences back).  But there is more to learn about aardvarks.

The reason they make terrible pets (besides being gobstruck ugly) is that they are nocturnal and will keep you awake all night with their grunting and burrowing. Good luck with your backyard landscaping because that long pig-like snout of the aardvark will have it upside down in a matter of hours.

Also, the aardvark will eat anything from your shoes to your couch pillows and your good intentions. That last item, eating good intentions, is a mystical, almost unbelievable, supernatural gift the animal has for capturing people’s positive thoughts and converting them into aardvark sustenance.  It sounds crazy but the research that documents this phenomenon is indisputable.

Trying to make pets of aardvarks causes them to go feral, which leads to their full arsenal of bad behavior.  Another thing: they have notoriously bad breath and can’t see colors.

Russellville Lives. BG

                                                                                               Betty Greer

My next door neighbor, Betty Greer, was born in Portland, Oregon on the 20th day of October, 1919.  Yeah, do the math. The defining feature of Betty, however, is not her age but, rather, her warm, delightful personality.  The easy laughs that color her conversations lets you know you've found a person with whom you want to share some time.

As an only child, Betty Dunlap received the full loving attention of her father, which was probably an off-putting circumstance for her mother, who developed a contentious relationship with her daughter.  As a little girl, Betty recalls being forced to cut willow switches (no wimpy little ones were acceptable) for her own applied discipline.  This had the effect of making the bond with her father even closer.

The stock market crash of 1929 brought on a financial disaster for the Dunlap family.  Her father's construction business that had supported their privileged lifestyle was wiped out along with millions of others in depression-era America.  Betty attended the prestigious Ulysses S. Grant High School where now she wore clothing from low end stores.  But clothes don't affect the life spark that fuels the spirit and Betty didn't miss a beat. She and her friends weathered the storm.

Betty's parents couldn't afford college for her but they managed to send her to a secretarial school and she absorbed those skills and found employment as a secretary although those first jobs only paid 30 1/2 cents an hour. She later landed employment with a government bureau that paid better. A favorite colleague at work was a young, Japanese-American woman who, after the Pearl Harbor attack, was swept away to the holding area in the Portland Stock Yards for people of Japanese descent. This cruel treatment of American citizens enraged Betty's mother and even though the Dunlap family had little spare money themselves, she and Betty went on a shopping spree for groceries and personal hygiene items, filling two large bags, which they took to the stock yards for her friend's family.  After the Japanese families were moved to Idaho, Betty lost track of her colleague. 

Early in the war, Betty and her friend Isabell went on a great adventure to Baghdad by the Bay, San Francisco.  Both of their mothers were out of sync with their daughters so the girls, who were 19, just ran away from home. If you live in Oregon, San Francisco is California's magic city and it became  home for Betty and Isabell for the next three years.  One evening they visited the bar in San Francisco's iconic Palace Hotel and Betty noticed a group of seven soldiers checking them out.  An advance scout from the squad approached Betty and told her he and his friends were new to the city and wondered if the two girls would consider showing them the town?  A nervous Betty confessed that neither of them knew the city to which the scout announced that would be perfect with all of them discovering the charms of San Francisco together.

Can you see the movie?  Betty and Isabell escorted by a platoon of the U. S. Army's finest, dancing up and down San Francisco's famous Lombard Street?  Their limo negotiating those San Francisco streets with the occupants leaning out the windows, waving to the crowds?  Open up that Golden Gate for Betty and Isabell as they lift the morale of our country's warriors. 

In 1944 as World War II was coming to an end, Betty met and married Stan Greer.  Stan worked for Pacific Metal Company of Tualatin, Oregon, where, over the years, he became president of the company. During those years, Stan and Betty brought along two daughters and two sons to brighten their home and the family became active in the Rose City Presbyterian church. Stan's job as president of the company allowed them the opportunity to travel internationally which they both enjoyed.

A hobby of Stan's led him to becoming a skilled magician who entertained at children's birthday parties. In Betty's words, "He was really good."  Stan Greer became a popular city celebrity. 

Starting sometime wayyyy back in that other century, Betty Dunlap did something truly amazing: She started writing a journal in lined notebooks.  All those notebooks today occupy multiple stacks on her closet shelf and it is my belief the Oregon Historical Society would love to get their hands on them.

Break out the candles and stand by with the fire extinguisher.  October 20 is just around the corner.

   

Russellville Lives JG

                                                                      Jane Gregory

Jane Gregory talks to her plants but only the corn has ears. Wait a minute, she doesn't have corn, but she swears there is communication between herself and her botanical family.  She might be right because everything seems to be in harmony with her wishes. Jane's garden is simply a delight to ponder.  Kind of like the Butchart Gardens in Victoria, British Columbia, but without the admission charge.

Jane, Jane, please explain,

How does your garden grow?

Loving words, and stuff from birds,

And pretty pots all in a row.

Some people have the gift of communicating with vegetation and some people make flowers wilt. Jane comes by her talent honestly in that she chose to be born in Idaho, then when she was 3,  her education in Agriculture 101 began after the family moved to the big farm country near Ontario, Oregon.  The vegetable garden was her classroom as it was an important food source for her family.  In her later adult life wherever she lived, Jane would always grow vegetables and flowers. 

A graduate of  Eastern Oregon College, Jane took her degree in Education, met and married her husband of 45 years, moved to Portland, where she taught and with her Masters degree in Library Science from the University of Portland, served as a classroom teacher-librarian for 32 years.  Jane gave up her Mrs. degree when she and her husband went separate ways 21 years ago.

Jane is in her third summer at Russellville Park.  Her total focus when choosing an apartment was how it would fit her plans for an elaborate garden. How would the garden site relate to the rays of the sun during the changing seasons? The large second floor deck adjacent to her garden was a plus as was the high south wall that was acoustically enabling of Jane's conversations with her plants.  It would help her understand when they were happy and when they were sad.  To know when a hydrangea’s neighbor was creating too much shade or when a flowering maple tree needed a drink.  The long strip of real estate next to that wall would become her garden and that was the deal maker for Jane. 

Roy Garbarino is a friend who provides heavy lifting when needed as well as supplying encouragement for Jane's green spirituality.  Roy is considered the Electrician Emeritus for the greater Portland metropolitan area and he regrets his Italian heritage doesn't give him better gardening chops. He has provided a small greenhouse, which will allow Jane to work from seeds next season to add to the many plants brought from her Gresham yard.  Almost three years ago she went to a Gresham nursery and engaged the services of professionals to insure that her plantings would be in harmony with each other.  Then friends and relatives contributed plants while Jane continued to find just one more indispensable acquisition and soon .the magic of alternate life forms transformed a corner of her Russellville home. Jane welcomes visitor who come to view her green world and she asks everyone to help identify unknown species.

If Jane Gregory keeps her patch looking more and more like the Biblical Garden of Eden, Roy will be obligated to scout around and find her a serpent that speaks English.

             .

My Way With The Subway

We need to celebrate people in our society who get their concept vision right and then maintain the integrity of their accomplishment and resist the temptation to monetize small changes to increase profits. I applaud the owners of the Subway Sandwich franchise who have done that.  Their moderately priced offerings are fresh and delicious but the satisfaction of eating the sandwich can be enhanced if you know the secrets I have discovered by years of experimenting.

First, always order the full 12” option because the cost difference for the 6” one is minor and the fabrication process just results in a better product working with the longer bun.

The designers of the sandwich cleverly made the connection of the upper bun and the lower bun (let’s call it the  "hinge”) a good solid bridge that allows the backstopping of limitless additions to your basic meat or veggie option.  I prefer cold cuts (baloney in my mind) and then I load it untoasted with stuff. Cheese. Lettuce. Tomato. Onion. Cucumber. Olives.  The fabricator slams it all in there because that hinge withstands the pressure of the final folding over and the tight wrapping that keeps everything together.

Here's the final secret:  Do not eat it as if it’s a hotdog.  It will be cut in half so start at the cut end but take the first bite at the opening of the top and bottom bun.  Bits of all that stuffing will be pressing out along the length of the bun so by taking small bites you seal that edge, pressing everything against the hinge.

Now you have a sealed torpedo (or submarine) that you eat while always slanting slightly in, compacting the add-ons against the core ingredient and the hinge.  If you’re up to it, repeat the procedure with that other half or put the other half in the fridge for later.

Trust me.

Russellville Lives CF

                                                                                              Charles Foss

As a child Charlie Foss didn’t know what he wanted to be when he grew up and then he grew up and it came to him. Like all of his friends in that southern town of Sportsburg, South Carolina, he was smoking cigarettes at age 13 but it didn’t stunt his growth as he grew to be 6’ 3” by the time he graduated from high school. He was a good student and was accepted for admission to the prestigious Yale University where, in his Sophomore year, he made a life changing decision: more about that later.

Early in his life his family was what he called stay-at-home Episcopalian but later they began attending church on a regular basis and Charlie became involved in those ecclesiastical activities. Those early 1960s were troubled years for everyone in America including students. The assassinations, the Vietnam protests, the Civil Rights marches were all contributing influences that led to the dramatic life changing decision Charlie made in his Sophomore year at Yale: he would devote his life to the church by becoming an Episcopal priest.

About that same time, one morning after a night of drinking and smoking with fraternity brothers, he found a burned hole in his favorite shirt and that day Big Tobacco lost another one.

After leaving Yale, Charlie was working in the Fourth Ward Clinic in Houston, Texas in a run down ghetto, heavily African-American and Hispanic. The clinic, established by The Church of the Redeemer, a charismatic Episcopal parish, was the only healthcare for 10,000+ people in the shadow of oil-rich central Houston.  The supervisor he reported to was a young woman named Gwendolyn Frieson.  Although Charlie and Gwen had separate parents, they both shared the same DNA that guided them into working 60-hour weeks and living in a 35-resident mansion rented to the clinic for a dollar a year.  Like wild flowers that can grow out of cracks in concrete, romance can flower from long days and nights of two people working together to bring comfort to other lives. After a year and a half they married on Texas Independence Day, 1974, before over 1,000 people followed by a reception for 450 thrown by an African-American congregation near the clinic.  In the years to come Charlie and Gwen replaced themselves with a son and a daughter, and eventually three grandchildren.

Gwen gave up an offer of a PhD program at Columbia or a chance to set up a baccalaureate  nursing program in Madras, India to marry Charlie and within a year he started his seminary training.  After obtaining his PhD at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California, he started working as an assistant Rector at St. James by-the-Sea Episcopal church in La Jolla, California.  It was frustrating to the young priest to bring fresh eyes to old rituals and have his ideas given no consideration because, “This is how we’ve always done it.”  But Charlie persevered.   And he was among a limited number of Episcopal priests who also played the pipe organ.    

His last 14 years before retiring after 30 years as a priest was spent as Rector of an Episcopal church in Rock Hill, South Carolina where it all began.  The small brick building was graced with a magnificent stained glass window a patron had purchased from a well known artist in New York City.  It was installed by a team of German craftsmen and when hurricane Hugo came through in 1989 the window survived even though bricks were blown off the building.

Charlie’s sermons were originals from the pulpit on Sunday morning.  He had not spent hours composing and rewriting and polishing phrases.  The words just came from his inner vault of beliefs applied to the moment. His preaching was well received by his congregation because his style was “down home” but it came from a solid Christian philosophy that had marinaded in his soul for decades.  His pleasant baritone voice carries tones of South in the mouth which adds to the charm of his delivery.

It did not surprise me to learn a favorite hobby of Charlie’s is gardening.  You don’t have to be a psychiatrist to discover his connection with plant culture and his fascination with the mysteries of the human comedy.  

Charlie and Gwen’s lifelong rituals of volunteering their service to various charitable programs has continued while living at Russellville Park.  That includes working both in church activities as well as general public projects such as Schoolhouse Supplies, the organization that collects and disperses school items for needy students and office staffs all around the Portland Metro area.

If Russellville Park has an epicenter where spiritual and intellectual thoughts combine it could well be in apartment 227E.

       

                                                                  

Russellville Lives TM

                                                                                                     

                                                                       Taka Mizote

Award-winning author Daniel Brown (The Boys In The Boat) has written a current best seller,  Facing The Mountain. It is a true story of Japanese American heroes in World War II.  Taka Mizote and her sisters, Aya Fuji and Lily Kiyokawa could have stepped out of the pages of Daniel Brown’s manuscript.  

Taka’s parents were in that wave of Japanese immigrants who came to America at the turn of the century in the 1900s, searching for a life better than the one of hopelessness in Japan.  The immigrants took low-paying jobs building railroads, working crops,  mining. But working for poverty level wages, Taka’s parents saved enough to take ownership of a 50-acre farm near Hillsboro, Oregon and send a daughter, Kate, to Oregon State College.  The American dream.

Then December 7, 1941 and the attack at Pearl Harbor that would change the lives of the Iwasaki family forever.

 Taka’s father had been aware of the growing hostility between Japan and America but the events in Hawaii brought a terrible shock to him and his family. Laws prevented Taka's parents from ever becoming American citizens, but she and her seven siblings were all born in America and so were citizens.  Be proud of your American citizenship, her father told them, and do everything you can to support your country.

Taka dreaded going to school the Monday after the attack, wondering how her classmates would treat her.  It turned out they treated her with kindness as the American citizen she was.  In most of America that was not the case.

Because of the curfew imposed on her family, Taka could not attend graduation with her classmates at Hillsboro High School but received her diploma through the mail.  The Iwasaki family soon was ordered to leave their farm and join other Japanese Americans in a temporary holding facility at a relocation center near the Portland stockyards (an old Civilian Conservation Corps’ camp).  A friend and neighbor leased their farm and took good care of it until the end of the war.

The family later was moved to a camp in Idaho, where they lived until the war ended. Oregon State Freshman Kate was given help transferring to Hamline University in Minnesota, where she earned her degree.

Taka did not let the horrendous dislocations of the war years define her life. Right from the start she set her mind to consider the relocation camps to be like the summer camps she had gone to as a young girl. She knew the war would end someday and she was encouraged to pursue an education until that happened.  She attended the College of Idaho for three years and then transferred to Pacific University, where she graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree.

Reading was difficult for her because she had never had adequate training in reading skills from the start.  In high school and college she read only what she had to and it wasn’t until later working with students in the reading lab at Madison High School in Portland that she discovered the important role reading played in a person becoming truly educated.  Japanese Buddhist’s have a word for Taka’s enlightenment: Satori.  It was a career-changing experience as she trained to become a teacher.

Cancer took her daughter Laurie Jean in 1967 and her husband Jimmy passed away in 1976.  That was when she started her life in the schoolhouse as a counselor's secretary at Madison High school. She started working with emotionally handicapped students and a couple of years later  opened a class for those students while working for the Gresham Public Schools.  When a job teaching first grade for the Powell Valley School opened she began a 17-year mission of insuring that those young scholars would have a solid foundation in the skills of reading.

Then Taka retired. She lived in a retirement community in NE Portland for six years before moving to Russellville with her sisters Aya and Lily in 2014.  It's a long winding trail of laughter and tears from her apartment on Russellville's second floor to those pathetic raw-board shelters provided her family by the government of the United States.  Her country.

Taka's two brothers and her late husband, Jimmy Mizole, served in the highly decorated 442nd Regimental Combat Team.  During the course of the war, 18,000 Nisei soldiers fought in that proud company of warriors.

 The treasure Taka has brought to her life is daughter Marilyn Jane Sholian and Marilyn's husband, Jeff, who gave her granddaughter Katie and grandson Peter.  The gifts that keep on giving.

Russellville Lives GC

                                                                                      Gerry Caldwell

The Oregonian newspaper in 1991 published a picture of Oregon Governor Barbara Roberts watching a CNN TV report showing Desert Storm General Norman Schwarzkopf visiting an army postal station with an American soldier.  The caption read:  Oregon's Governor asks, "Who's that General with Gerry Caldwell?"  That may be apocryphal but maybe not.  Gerry Caldwell knows a lot of people and a lot of people know Gerry Caldwell. 

Born in 1940 and raised in Portland, Oregon, Gerry experienced the city's 1940's Jim Crow rules for African American citizens when Black musical superstars would perform in Stumptown but were refused lodging there.  They instead were housed in private homes in Northeast Portland and on one enchanted evening Gerry's parents hosted Lionel Hampton. 

You could call Gerry gregarious, but you just couldn't call him tall.  So at Washington High School he satisfied his love of football by becoming the team's manager.  It set a lifelong pattern of making friendships while making himself an indispensable player wherever the action was.  After high school one day he was downtown when the sky opened to a cloudburst so intense that Gerry ducked into the first doorway he could find to escape the deluge.  It turned out to be an army recruiting station and the start of 28 years of service in the regular army and reserve units.  He found himself in Vietnam advising Vietnamese troops before the actual beginning of American combat engagement.

While stationed in Japan, Gerry went with some buddies to a Lionel Hampton concert and got seats down front.  At the end of the performance a runner came to say Lionel wanted to see him backstage.  After all those years he remembered Gerry from that home stay.

He was in the Reserves when he got a job with the First National Bank as a bookkeeper and became friends with the bank's president.  That friendship led to his becoming the first Black manager of a branch in Portland.

Gerry considers a top highlight of his life to be the parade he put together from scratch for the 1977 Trail Blazers after they won the NBA national championship.  The First National Bank was a team sponsor and when it came down to the last two games and it was apparent Bill Walton's gang might actually pull it off, the need for a parade became clear,  The bank president told the Blazer management and Portland's mayor that if anybody could organize an overnight parade it was his man Caldwell.

He got an 18-wheeler flatbed truck from the Rose Festival's Starlight parade and cut red tape with the help of his friend the police chief to park it overnight near the train depot.  He got a high school jazz band with the help of a  school band director friend.  He got a friend connected with  Raz Transportation to bus the bandsmen back from the parade's end.  He pulled it all together and Portlanders lined the streets and went nuts cheering their team.  Hey! Who's that guy sitting on the flatbed with his legs dangling off the end?  

Forty years ago Gerry was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and now lives with his wheeled chair. But oh what memories he has of all those friends who shared his ride on that magical merry go round, grabbing the brass ring on every circuit.