Monthly Archives: November 2012

Ellen Robinson

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I went to the memorial service for my dear friend and neighbor Ellen this morning at her lovely stone church.

She was a philosopher, anthropologist, and life-long learner.  She always encouraged me to engage in meaningful conversation.  She raised four children by herself in the modest house just one removed from mine.

This picture is exactly the way she always greeted me at her front door.

The perfect scripture for Ellen was printed on the front of the service leaflet:

Proverbs 27:17

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens the wits of another.

And here is the collective reading we all joined in:

She lived very frugally, never spending outside her careful budget. (There is a lesson there!!) She always raked her own leaves, mowed her own grass, and would never allow me to help carry in the logs for the fireplace she always preferred to use.  I will miss her brilliant smile and her brilliant mind.

An interesting aside:  everyone always says, “Jean lives in the Rankin house,” so I always say it too whenever anyone asks me where I live — I live in the Rankin house.  And today I got to meet the elderly Dr. Rankin  (veterinarian to everyone’s pets in years past).  What a treat it was to meet the charming man whose family’s spirits surely continue to reside at 1880, where they too raised three daughters.  I invited him to come see the house and he said he would.

Faux Thanksgiving

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Katherine and Mary-Margaret have been here for a few days.  As always, dogs, food, and word games played a big part.  When Katherine arrived, Mary-Margaret was in Portland dancing the night away.  That gave Auntie Kate a chance to get acquainted with Mr. Blue and to show him how to play Scrabble on the iPad.

Meg arrived during the wee hours and brought VooDoo donuts for breakfast.

No, I did not eat the one with sprinkles on top!  Why do you ask?


Relaxing in the snug:

Here you can see that Meg has a bit of a protuberance on her neck.  We consulted just a few medical specialists while she was here.  It was decided to treat it with antibiotics for a few weeks to reduce swelling before attempting amputation.

Soon we were off to some of our favorite places, Burgerville in Monmouth was at  the top of the list.

The November specialties are sweet-potato fries with chiplote mayo and pumpkin smoothies.
Is that a Tillamook cheese burger with pepper bacon?
Then off to Trader Joe’s to shop for our faux dinner.
At home the next day doing a little faux cooking
No one can remember for sure what I was saying here, but numerous captions have been suggested.
Best suggestion so far, from a dear old friend and superb cook,
“Since when do you not eat turkey!?”
 Actually, I remember when one or two offspring did not and I offered a product called “Foturkey.”  Now that was faux!  Now, so long as our dead bird was treated humanely up to the very last minute,  I get no objections.  This year’s had been pre-brined by Trader Joe and it was very moist, tasty, and not a bit salty.
And our Faux Thanksgiving dinner was delicious.  Nothing faux about the good time we had.
Some activities were not documented.  Kate and I enjoyed our traditional antique/junk store exploration searching for “mid-century treasures.”  She flew home early Monday morning in time to get to work.  Next night,  MM and I were enchanted by the new film “Cloud Atlas.”
 We saw it at the Cinebarre downtown where they serve you dinner during the show.  Food was just passable; film was amazing.  Too much to take in with one viewing.  What made it especially fun that there were so many people there.  Too often these days,  you sit in the movies all by yourself.  But this was $5.00 Tuesday!
Yesterday, Meg flew home to Maui, back to work today at Ironwood Ranch, and things are back to normal here at 1880, just Roxie, Blue, Kobe, Rosie, and the leftovers — and me, already in a holiday mood.

They were soldiers.

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My daddy was under-aged when his daddy took him down to enlist, so his military records — and his army tombstone at the foot of his grave — show his birth date as 1921.  His headstone has it correctly as 1923.

The Bronze Star awarded for acts of heroism, acts of merit, or meritorious service in a combat zone:

How quickly bright young men moved up the ranks then!  Here he is home on leave in his captain’s bars:

He served in the Pacific theater and was wounded in the Philippines.  They just patched him up and sent him right back out there.

His last Christmas, he sent me his Purple Heart.

My Uncle George, who was actually my mother’s uncle, was a life-long friend and colleague of Daddy.  George Russell Miller “stormed the beach on D-Day,” as they say.  Here is a picture of the survivors of his battalion.  Uncle George is in the center of the front row.  I can hardly make out what is written in ink in the upper left corner, but I think is says “”Ranger B?y — men left that started D-Day — Cp Brooklyn France — Sept 45.”

They both came home, Daddy and Uncle George.  They went to work, raised families, and lived long, productive lives.   Neither of them made any excuses or expected any special privileges, honors or respect because of their service.  They just did what they were supposed to do.  Maybe that’s why we call them The Greatest Generation.  But I remember them, honor and respect them.  War never makes any sense to me, but if one ever did, it was theirs.  Thank you.