Pinter Festival at A.C.T.: Don't Expect a Map When You Travel Through "No Man's Land" — a review

Human nature includes the urge to make sense of things, an urge I suspected was felt by others who loitered in the lobby of A.C.T.—A Contemporary Theatre after No Man's Land last Saturday night. We all stood in silence, heads tilted back to read a wall panel description of the play we had just seen, hoping to find in those words on the wall, if not a map to clear understanding, at least some signposts. None existed. But that did not invalidate the journey.
 

NO MAN'S LAND - Frank Corrado
              Photo: Chris Bennion

This first professional production in Seattle of No Man's Land is part of the Pinter Festival at A.C.T., honoring the English playwright Harold Pinter. I had already seen, and enjoyed, The Dumb Waiter and Celebration. I had no idea what to expect of No Man's Land. The theater's press release seemed vague and described it as "a profound (and boozy) meditation on life and death and what may or may not have taken place between the cradle and the grave."

It opens during the 1970s on a scene of two aging men, Hirst and Spooner—both of whom seem to be literary sorts—in the London home of the one named Hirst (Frank Corrado). He is apparently a wealthy man of some celebrity, although how he gained it we do not know. He is also a drunk. The room reflects Hirst's social status, as well as his own dullness and lack of personality.

It's late at night, and Hirst has invited the overly talkative, overly friendly Spooner (Randy Moore) home for more drinks after leaving a pub where they've just met. Or did they?

 

NO MAN'S LAND - Randy Moore, Peter Crook, Frank Corrado, Benjamin Harris
Photo: Chris Bennion



Hirst pours a whisky for his guest, and as he does so, he utters the play's first line: "As it is?"

Spooner cheerfully replies, "As it is, yes, please, absolutely as it is." Little did I know that I would need to accept the play "as it is" without satisfying my urge to uncover a clear message.

Just who is Spooner? Although he delivers impressively long and often humorous speeches, compared to Hirst's elegance and refinement (even as a drunk) Spooner comes across as slightly slimy, a mooch, a con man, a far less tastefully dressed hustler with dishonorable motives. And yet we feel for him because of the pathetic nature of his life. His cleverness stimulates Hirst into revealing more about himself—and the dream he keeps repeating—by nudging him with real or fabricated memories, sarcasm, and suggestion.



The two keep drinking and feeding off of each others' stories, exaggerations, imaginations, or just plain lies. Soon it seems Spooner is an old friend Hirst knew at Oxford, whose wife was one of Hirst's sexual conquests. Is any of it true? Or, are they just two lonely, pathetic men facing the end of their lives without any meaningful relationships, except with the bottle and their glorified pasts?



NO MAN'S LAND - Peter Crook
Photo: Chris Bennion



The only other characters are the insubordinate butler named Briggs (Peter Crooks), who reminded me more of thug on his best behavior, and a young man named Foster (Benjamin Harris). Both add an air of edginess, uncertainty, and possible danger. I swear that I heard Foster refer to Hirst as his father, but later he seems almost like Hirst's employee, a caregiver or handler for the old drunk. Hirst passes out repeatedly and must be fixed up to reappear before his guest Spooner the next morning, who has been locked in the room overnight by the others. 

The character of Foster adds to the confusion in a play that seems like a hundred mini-plays, moving from one speech to another without a lot of conversation. It feels like a tread mill, which could be the point; longings, circumstances, and regrets plod away in people's live and find no relief. Is anyone really listening? Do any of us truly know the person to whom we speak?

So how did No Man's Land, with its lack of much plot or any conclusions, make a crowd of people care enough to hang around afterward looking for insights? It appeals, in a dark way lightened by humor, to the secrets, yearnings, egos, vulnerabilities, and pasts we all carry inside ourselves, often as a burden.

For those of us who simply love words, it offers a symphony of eighth notes that dance on the air and keep us spellbound waiting for the final chord. It offers humor and sharp wit. The acting, and Penny Chern's directing, are superb. It makes us laugh. And it makes us squirm. Even the stage set makes the disconcerting circumstances visceral. There is only one comfortable looking chair and we wish for the actors, and the story, to settle, to allow us some relief from edginess, uncertainty, and subtle despair.



NO MAN'S LAND - Benjamin Harris
Photo: Chris Bennion

No Man's Land gets into your bloodstream and stays there. I'm no drinker, but it gave me a kind of hangover that haunted. And probably because it would not release me, after this strange play came the strange coincidence of which I also tried to make sense.

Stunned, I looked at the clock on the car's dashboard on Sunday morning and noticed that it read "10:30" once again. Twelve hours earlier, I had noticed the exact same time while in the same car, headed in the same direction (south) on the same freeway (I-5) discussing the same play (No Man's Land) with the same person (my husband). The first situation happened on the way home to Tacoma after seeing No Man's Land Saturday night. The second, on Sunday morning, occurred as we headed to the Long Beach peninsula for the Jazz & Oysters Festival.

"Is there a hidden meaning in this?" I asked myself, meaning the coincidence. But it was the same question I'd asked about the play and I had no answer. Meanwhile, we came to the place where Hwy. 101 branches off the interstate to lead to more and more branching roads, just as the complex sentences in the script of No Man's Land branched again and again, promising another elusive destination.

along Willipa Bay       photo by Candace Brown



I wanted to see the ocean, the big picture, but I had to travel through hills hidden by forest that eased into the coastal lowlands before I eventually reached the Pacific Ocean. And ultimately it reminded me of the insignificance of our individual lives when compared to its size and power.

At first impatient to arrive at the trip's conclusion, I learned something along the way; it is often best to relax, listen, stay present and aware, and appreciate, rather than analyze, the scenery.

photo by Candace Brown

No Man's Land will be presented again on Thursday, Aug. 23, at 7:30 p.m., Saturday, Aug. 25, at 4 p.m., and Sunday, Aug. 26, at 2 p.m. (Find complete schedule and ticket information for this and other features of the festival through this link.)

Copyright 2012 Candace J. Brown

Goodbye Rhododenron Part 2 -- more photos of the ferry boat M/V RHODODENDRON, including vintage postcards

Behind every news story, the personal stories full of human emotion and memories wait to be discovered, and I heard and sensed some of those this week. The response to my previous blog post about the fate of the historic Washington State ferry M/V Rhododendron, still coming to me in the form of e-mails, phone calls, and in person, made me decide to share more of my photos of this beloved boat. But as a bonus, I also want to share some vintage postcard images sent to me by  Steve Pickens, the man behind the website Evergreen Fleet, mentioned in my original post, and author of "Ferries of Puget Sound." He is helping to  preserve our local maritime history, an effort for which we should all be grateful.

 Postcard of M/V Rhododendron  from the 1950s, courtesy of Steve Pickens

Pickens, a native of western Washington, was born in Seattle and grew up on the Kitsap peninsula. "Ferries have always been a part of my life," he told me in an e-mail. "I got interested in ferries through the Kalakala, first getting into her history and then branching out from there."

He became involved, conducting tours on Kalakala and serving as a volunteer archivist, for a time. "I had really been previously interested in the old Atlantic liners, but the interest turned a little more local after the Kalakala came home," he said.

Vintage postcard of M/V Rhododendron courtesy of Steve Pickens

I asked Pickens how long his site, Evergreen Fleet, has existed and how he came across all his fascinating material. 

"The website has been around over a decade now. A lot of my research came from books on the subject to a certain point. The final 'what happened to' a lot of the old retirees involved sending FOIA requests to the Coast Guard or emailing the last known company/owner of said vessel."

Vintage postcard image courtesy of Steve Pickens

"People have been incredibly generous sharing their personal memories and photos in many cases.," Pickens said. "There's a certain fondness for the old boats--particularly the old wooden ferries. I'd have to say the San Mateo and Vashon are, hands down, the most fondly remembered."

And now for a few taken from the Tacoma side.

Copyright 2012 by Candace Brown  

April evening 2009, off Point Defiance
Copyright 2012 by Candace Brown   May not be used without permission.

The following four photos were taken at Point Defiance on a cool, misty morning in the otherwise hot July of 2008. Please see the blog post they relate to: Breath of Life: Marine Air in the Morning.



I've never met Steve Pickens but I can tell that, like so many of us, he loves our rich maritime history and out maritime environment too. Please be sure to look at Evergreen Fleet. You'll be glad you did.

Thank you for joining me on this little two-part tribute to the Washington State Ferry Rhododendron. And many thanks to Steve Pickens for sharing the postcard images of life on Puget Sound.

All text and photos in this post, with the exception of those provided by Steve Pickens, are copyrighted by Candace Brown and cannot be used without permission. See  Evergreen Fleet concerning the postcard images. 

Copyright 2012 Candace Brown

Walking the Beaches of Home

This photo is my keepsake from a day when the world felt backward. When I look at it I can hear the surf and the hiss of that thin front edge of foam as it rushes over wet sand. I love its luminosity and colors. I remember the cold water around my ankles and the spray on my face. But at the time it all felt backward. On that day I learned this lesson: it’s true that “we are where we come from.” Like salmon, we instinctively know that certain place. It imprints itself on our hearts and minds forever.

I come from the northern corner of America’s west coast, land of tall evergreens and snowy mountains and beyond them the mighty Pacific Ocean. I’ve been at its shores when the sun came up in the morning over the silhouetted hills to the east and slowly lit a pastel world of water, sand and fog. I’ve been at its shores in the evening when the sun set in the west, the blazing ball of fire’s descent into darkening water marked by a bridge of gold, a billion dancing angles of light reflected on the waves. I’ve stood there many times in my life while the last hot crescent hung on the horizon’s edge, and then was gone. And I knew where I belonged.

On the east side of a road that runs north and south on Vashon Island stands the house where I was born. For my first eighteen years I could sit on the front porch on a summer evening and look beyond the lawn and across the road to the strawberry fields in the west and know, like I know my own name, that north was to my right and south to my left. The next house where I spent many years sat the same way. Once I lived with the orientation reserved and never could get over the feeling that things were backward. Looking for a new home here in Tacoma, the house that felt “just right” again sat on the east side of a road running north and south, my internal compass satisfied.

What about love and friendship? Do we subconsciously recognize the ones who understand us, who know where we come from, share our sense of habitat, our soul’s native tongue? We may travel the world, find adventure, be enchanted by another place, fall in love with someone whose sense of direction is foreign to ours, and live happily ever after. But they can never truly know what makes our secret inner gyroscope spin.

If you’re trying to guess where on the coast of Washington State this photo was taken, you’re already wrong. It depicts a magical June evening on Okracoke Island, part of North Carolina’s Outer Banks, only something is missing: the setting sun. I loved it there, but when the sun set over the land to my back, instead of the sea it felt all wrong.

I could learn to live on our eastern coast. My ancestors came from Maine. I’ve eaten lobster on the waterfront there, gotten a sense of the place. I could learn to love the Atlantic’s different smell and feel and appreciate its charms. In life we end up walking many beaches, but in our hearts we know which ones are ours. I could be happy and so could you, but I would still miss watching the sun set where it “should,” over the ocean, with the person who knows me best at my side. I would miss the instinctive “rightness” of it all and revisit it in my dreams, knowing how much of who we really are is the place we call home.

A Change of Perspective

North 30th Street in Tacoma, on a sunny spring day, feels like the world's longest playground slide. If not for realities like traffic and pedestrians I could lose myself in the panorama of sea, land, and sky, the fantasy of an open road and a fortunate failure of brakes. I can imagine the sensation of sliding downhill in a blur, yelling "Yahoo!" until I skidded right through Old Town and finally splashed into Commencement Bay. But if I had to walk up that hill it would look a lot different to me.

That view from the top, heading east, is part of my perspective. I know this city from familiar angles. I know its different neighborhoods, nice and not-so-nice, the downtown, the architecture, industrial areas, parks and pretty front yards. Seen from my usual routes it holds no surprises. I know it in all its grittiness and glory. Or at least I thought I did.

In the same self-confident way we believe we know our friends, our family and its history, what living in America is like, and what "normal" means. Our expectations when it comes to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness feel reasonable and deserved. But what is the real picture? It all depends on your vantage point.

Yesterday, while doing research for an article, I spoke to people from several local agencies that run or are involved with food banks. I learned two things. One is that everyday, all around me, other human beings including children and the elderly go hungry or face the risk of hunger. I also learned that there are caring people who wake up every morning determined to keep that from happening. But if our perspective comes from relative comfort and security problems, like hunger can be invisible to us.


Last Sunday I sailed aboard the tall ship ADVENTURESS on Commencement Bay. I'm not accustomed to looking at Tacoma from the water and it made me realize how much of what surrounds us we just don't see. The view of the city from that perspective charmed me in a new way. While driving the streets you don't appreciate how many old trees still grow in Tacoma, or how nineteenth century buildings and the graceful curve of a modern highway can be at peace with each other like different generations of a family around a dinner table. It all looked so different from the water side.

So do we really know our world, our neighbors, or our country? What do words like freedom, oppression, lucky, unlucky, young, old, rich, or poor really mean? It all depends on where you stand. Consider looking at things from a different perspective. You might be surprised by what you learn.

Lycoming College Students Give Hearts and Hands to Tacoma

When I entered the basement of Bethlehem Lutheran Church I expected to attend a meeting. I never expected to find 26 college students camped out there, tired looking but cheerful, with their damp work clothes hung up to dry on some overhead pipes. Someone told me they’d come all the way from Williamsport, Pennsylvania, as members of the Lycoming College campus chapter of Habitat for Humanity. Wow, I thought. There’s a story for Good Life Northwest in here somewhere. I want to meet them. And I did.

These students volunteered to spend their spring break not in Mexico or Florida, but outdoors in Tacoma, Washington, during a March week full of crazy weather, mud, and chilly temperatures, as participants in Habitat's Spring Break Collegiate Challenge. They paid their own airfare to come work with the Tacoma-Pierce County Habitat for Humanity affiliate on a housing project called Larabee Terrace, at E Street and East 36th. That location doesn't exactly make you think of a beach on the Gulf Coast. Instead of swimsuits they wore jeans, T-shirts and sweats, and usually jackets, along with an important fashion accessory: a hard hat. But the next day, when I drove out to the job site under blue skies and sunshine, I witnessed a bunch of hard working people having a lot of fun.


"We might not be at the beach but I'm loving it," said Jestie Higgins. She was eager to speak to me. "It's really beautiful out here and it's such a great place to come and help people out. It's such a strong Habitat group, with a strong program going on here. I think it's kind of an honor to get to come and help them and learn from them."

A senior named Matteuw Hines agreed. He told me about the three years he's taken these trips, including one to New Orleans, and what he thought of Tacoma: "It's pretty good out here. I really like the guys we have to work with, nice good-hearted people. It's a change of scenery too. But I'm not used to having the weather change every five minutes. This is the best weather yet."

The many positive comments about the local Habitat for Humanity affiliate made me curious to know more. Later I called the office and spoke to Cassandra Jarles, Director of Volunteer Services and learned that out of 1600 affiliates across America they rank in the top 50 for how many houses they build each year. They feel enormous gratitude for any help received in the form of volunteerism, cash donations, or used building materials, furniture, appliances, fixtures, etc. to stock the ReStore they operate, another place needing help.

"We're hoping to complete Larabee Terrace by the end of this year," said Jarles. "It would be great if we could have all the homes done by October. It all depends on how many volunteers we get." The Spring Break Collegiate Challenge makes a huge difference.

"We love working with the college kids in collegiate challenge!" said Executive Director Maureen Fife. "They bring an amazing energy and positive attitude to anything they do, whether its working in a muddy foundation trench or putting a roof on. They are game for anything, and always with a smile on their faces. It is really our honor to work with them."

I met one of the three site managers, a local guy with decades of professional experience in construction. Carl, the only name he wanted used, gives a lot of his time to Habitat for Humanity, even though he could be earning good money doing jobs of his own. I could see Carl's passion for what he does, and it made me wonder how many other good people like him quietly go about making the world a better place and don't expect applause. Just in that one day I met many such people. In addition to the students, their adviser, the Campus Minister Rev. Jeffrey LeCrone and three fellow advisers were working hard, as were a number of local volunteers and some future homeowners. The hillside buzzed with activity, punctuated with that satisfying sound of hammers hitting wood.

"We try to build as 'green' as we can," Carl told me, "and we'll recycle about 95% of this stuff." Even the earth moving was done with the environment in mind. I met Chad Bickle who owns a local excavation company called Green Tech. All his equipment runs on vegetable oil, and he's the only one in the area with a business like this.

The word "Terrace" in the name of the development describes it well, since the property where 12 houses will eventually stand slopes at quite an angle. Retaining walls were built to accommodate that number of home sites. Only a few houses are presently under construction, but the size of the project made it perfect for the large group from Lycoming, which was one reason they were matched up with this site.

"We build for our local affiliate back home but we don't put up as many houses because there we can only take a maximum of six or seven people on a work site," said student leader Allison Batties. "That's because we don't have as many leaders to guide us along. So on spring break we look for a site that has lots of projects and lots of leaders to keep everybody busy." Another reason to travel afar is to see other parts of the country. Allison mentioned getting to see the Space Needle in Seattle, and several students remarked on the beauty of Mount Rainier.

"We did get a chance to do a little sightseeing in Seattle one day," said Rev. LeCrone, "and we went to Point Defiance Park too. It's great when students like this give up their spring break to come and help the local affiliate, and it's been a pleasure to take them and the other advisers across the country. They're a great group to work with."

He appreciates the people in Tacoma too. Most of the meals the students ate that week were donated by community groups, churches, a home school and a large number of private individuals. On the night I met them at the church they were heading to the Varsity Grill for a free dinner. The downtown Tacoma YMCA offered a place to take showers and several churches provided shelter at night. It all helped with the many expenses associated with feeding, housing, and transporting thirty people.

I hung around until late in the afternoon, until the time came for the Lycoming chapter to end the last day on this project. They would be followed by other college groups until the challenge ends on April 3rd. Before heading out the students looked around at their accomplishments with a sense of pride and unity. Unity happens to be another thing Habitat for Humanity builds. Carl said: "We're planning to make one of these houses an interfaith project. We'll have volunteers from several different groups working together, including Christian, Jewish, Muslim, and local Native American tribal members."

Standing there in the sunshine I could look off to the northwest and see a bit of a view. I pictured all that positive energy and goodwill of the volunteers being absorbed into this place, Larabee Terrace, a small neighborhood that families I'd never know would someday call home. I hope they wake up every morning and think about their good fortune and the volunteers who made it all possible. I thought about something the young woman named Jestie said to me, when referring to kids from a home school group that came to serve them lunch: "They were a great bunch of kids and hopefully this will inspire them to come out and pick up a hammer someday."
Hopefully it will, Jestie, and hope is just what you and your friends are bringing to America. Thanks from all of us.



Note: There are still hungry, hard working college students on this project, from other states. Are there more kind citizens of Tacoma out there who can help with meals?















A few facts from the website of the Tacoma-Pierce County Habitat for Humanity:

Habitat has housed more than 291 adults and 588 children

Compared to children of renters, the children of homeowners are 25% more likely to graduate from high school.

Approximately 75% of Tacoma households cannot afford to purchase a home at the median price of $232,000.

Home ownership builds stronger communities. Compared to renters, homeowners are 28% more likely to repair or improve their homes.

The Best Christmas Shopping in the Northwest- (plus a FREE GIFT for you)

Forget about Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. The best gifts are made right here in the Pacific Northwest, and they’re waiting for you in an old brick building on the corner of 27th and Proctor, in Tacoma, Washington. It’s the Pacific Northwest Shop, one of my favorite places any time of year, but especially now. (Read on to find out about the totally FREE gift you’ll get just for coming in.) I stopped by today, greeted by the bell on the door, and a pretty display of lighted trees in the window, and owner Bill Evans. “Well hello there, Candace!” he said, while giving his usual caring attention to customers, employees, and boxes of new merchandise that keep arriving. I call him a friend, but so do hundreds of other local people, so it’s always “old home week” in the shop. Those four walls contain not only the bounty of the Northwest, but the spirit of this place as well: natural beauty, good taste, friendliness and warmth.


Every year I send gifts with a regional flavor and flare to places as distant as Denmark. It’s easy to find something special at Bill’s shop. If you’re reading this but don’t live near Tacoma you can even browse the vast selection on line and read about the products and their makers. I picked up a basket at the door (that is, a REAL basket, not a dirty plastic one) and started selecting gifts I wish someone would buy for me, and that could mean anything in the store.





Specialty foods tempt shoppers immediately. There’s smoked wild Pacific salmon from Kasilof Fish Company, local preserves, dried fruit, extraordinary chocolate, coffees and teas (try Enchanted Teas made right in Tacoma), soup and baking mixes, Dan the Sausage Man summer sausage, and novelties like Space Needle Pasta, or Huckleberry Salt Water Taffy. I wish I could mention them all. How about a Washington State wine? Delights like these end up in specially chosen or custom made signature gift boxes the shop sends out each year by the hundreds, if not thousands, all over the country. They do the packing and even take them to the post office for you. I love thinking of recipients in far away states, or right in town, opening one of those collections of treasures.



Man cannot live by delicacies alone, but must also feed the soul with art. I am madly in love with the exquisite fused copper and glass creations of Jones Glassworks in Seattle, with their classically Northwest salmon theme. “It’s two brothers, the Jones brothers,” Bill said. Knowing about the vendors means a lot to him. I relished the richly colored pottery by northwest potter Mark Hudak, and tiles by Paul Lewing. These combine form with function, but the shop carries framed artwork as well, with subjects like regional scenery, Native American images, maritime, etc. The artwork extends to greeting cards, calendars and more. How could I forget the jewelry? Oh my! Those silver pieces in Northwest Native American designs call to me every time, and I've bought a lot of the Jody Coyote earrings.


If you love art glass, in addition to Jones Glassworks’ wonders, you'll find a huge selection from Glass Eye Studio. Made from the ash of Mount Saint Helens, these gems are arranged in front of a south-facing window like one huge kaleidoscope in every color and pattern imaginable. Impressive bowls and vases sit on shelves, but for only $22 you can buy one of the hundreds of glass balls displayed hanging or heaped in a trunk. Call them Christmas ornaments if you wish, but I’d hang one in a sunny window all year around, and they’re always available.



Books make great gifts and the Pacific Northwest Shop is loaded with titles from local authors, on a variety of regional subjects: cooking, travel, nature, history, and more, including one written by the store’s owner Bill Evans himself, along with historian Caroline Gallacci. It’s a fascinating history, from the popular Images of America Series, called "Tacoma’s Proctor District".



What makes this shop so special is Bill himself. He loves supporting local artists, artisans, writers, photographers, and cottage industries, especially in small towns, with products ranging from foods, like Thorp Prairie Corn Bread to natural soaps and lotions of which he has a large selection. “Look at this,” he said, holding up a bar of handmade soap. “Shepards Soap Company, in Shelton, Washington. Aren’t these great?” What’s also great is the way Bill knows his vendors personally and sincerely wants to help their businesses succeed. ( I too, wish I had space to mention everyone by name.) You can feel the warm and giving spirit of this shopkeeper permeating the store, so if you need a dose of Christmas cheer, unique Northwest gifts, and old-fashioned customer service from a great staff, come on in, and… (here’s the surprise) If you tell him you read this blog post on Good Life Northwest he’ll give you a FREE package of Rocca Thins chocolate coated buttercrunch candy.

Hey Santa, you’d better watch out! With a red hat and a beard, this guy could have your job.

Confessions of the Scantily Scandinavian

I never claimed to be Norwegian. In fact, when my friend Chris started campaigning to get me to join the Daughters of Norway I protested.

“But Chris,” I said, hating to disappoint her, “ I’m not Norwegian.”

“It doesn’t matter! You’re part Danish and your husband is half Danish, so you’re more than qualified to join” she said. “Look at me. I’m Swedish!” It’s true that being strictly Norwegian isn’t strictly required. Next I heard (again) about all of the organization’s strong points: wonderful people, a century-long legacy, only one meeting per month, great programs, many fun activities, and all of it involving plenty of scrumptious Scandinavian desserts. That did it. Chris doesn’t lie. Now I’m an officer in the largest Daughters of Norway lodge in the United States, Embla No. 2, in Tacoma, Washington, and I love it. How did this happen?

I never claimed to be Norwegian, and to tell the truth, I'm only one-eighth Danish. But now, not only do I feel accepted, it’s scary how much I’m starting to feel Norwegian. Strangely enough, I learned Hardanger Embroidery years ago, and have always knitted Scandinavian patterns. I love snow, fish, and Edvard Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor, Op. 16. I bake beautiful butter cookies. I even felt my heart rate quicken when I saw my Danish family name on genealogy websites as being also found in Norway. Those Vikings did get around. Despite my mostly English heritage, with equal parts of German and Danish thrown in, I can tell I’m becoming more Scandinavian all the time. Now I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas Scandinavian style.

Oh I know… it isn’t even Thanksgiving and I’m talking about Christmas. You’re already cringing when you go into stores where the Christmas cards, candy, and commercialism showed up magically the morning after Halloween. That’s not the kind of Christmas I’m talking about. I’m talking about the kind with real evergreens, warm wool sweaters, home baked goodies, fiddle music, singing, wheat weavings, gifts carved of wood or crafted from silver: a more natural and simple Christmas. If you’d like to treat yourself to some of that and experience the holidays in a whole new way, take in one of the Puget Sound region’s many delightful Scandinavian festivals. Here are some good choices and remember, EVERYONE is welcome:

Thursday Nov. 13- Scandinavian Night (food demos, shopping) at the Garfield Book Company next to Pacific Lutheran University

Sat. Nov. 15-Scandinavian Fair at the Hampton Inn, Bellingham WA 10 AM-4 PM

Sat. Nov. 22- Yule Boutique, Pacific Lutheran University, Olson Auditorium

Sat. Nov. 22 and Sun. Nov. 23- Yulefest at the Nordic Heritage Museum in Seattle

Lately we’ve had plenty of bad news. Maybe you aren’t in the mood for holidays. Leave that cynicism behind and discover what warm hearts came from cold climates. It’s fun to be Scandinavian, even in scant amounts, or just your imagination.