Republican Versus Democrat—Civil War Memories Warn Us To Close The Great Divide

William L. Livesley       Company A Sixth Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry

Three days after the election, we're back in the fight, brother against brother, sister against sister. This morning I read with dismay, this news story about President Obama's, apparently voter-sanctioned approach to taxation and the so-called "fiscal cliff," versus the stance of Republicans, who still point a finger at "entitlement programs" and firmly resist raising taxes on the rich. It's more harping on the same points of disagreement. Both sides have their points and both feel they are right. The president is trying to bring the two sides, and the nation, together to solve problems that no amount of partisan bickering will ever solve. I wish him luck, for all our sakes. Yes, this is democracy in action, but we might hope it could be a more civil democracy.

This situation, especially in conjunction with Veterans' Day, makes me think about another time in this nation's history when divisions between its citizens reached a critical point and became the Civil War. As the great-great-granddaughter of a Civil War veteran, I consider his perspective. I am republishing an updated version of a blog post I wrote in 2008, when Obama was first elected, because I believe it makes points we need to remember. ~



On my desk sits an original copy of a book called The Sauk County Riflemen- Company A 6th Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, over a century old, published in 1909. The cover is still a rich blue and the paper high quality, but fragile. I turn the pages with great care. Without my respectful handling it could someday just fall apart.

My great-great-grandfather, William Lamb Livesley, was one of the original members of Company A, one of the young men who signed up to fight for his country during the recruitment drive in what was still considered "the West" during the Civil War. The 6th Wisconsin was part of what would later be known first as "The Black Hat Bridgade"—because of their black, western style hats—and then as the famous Iron Brigade. He treasured this book, inscribed to him by the officer who wrote it, Philip Cheek. It is drawn from diaries and eyewitness accounts of the daily experiences they both endured. He is mentioned by name, and some of the more harrowing passages are underlined in pencil, by him. I cannot even imagine the pictures those words brought to his mind.

After the recent presidential election, I look at the book and ponder those defining few years in my ancestor’s life, and in the life of our nation, and how it all relates to me living here in Tacoma and writing a blog called Good Life Northwest. I have existed only about half as long as this book, but that’s long enough to have seen a number of elections. What I’ve never before seen is so much division in our country. I wonder what my great-great-grandfather would think about it. I think it would fill him with deep concern.

William Livesley didn't believe in bickering. He believed in hard work and positive action. His can do spirit helped him survived the Civil War, traveled with him to the prairies of Nebraska where he homesteaded in a sod house, and during his travels west to Washington Territory, in a covered wagon. That will to survive kept him going when he walked from Eastern to Western Washington over the Cascade mountain range and fell ill, carving his name and the date into a tree trunk so his body could be identified if he didn't recover. His toughness carried him through pioneer days in Tacoma and on Vashon Island, where he brought his family in 1880 to be counted among the island's first settlers. His legacy is one of eternal optimism. We must call on that kind of spirit now.

Just a minute ago, I read again the Gettysburg Address, picturing my great-great-grandfather reading it back when it was the news of the day. Most of us (I hope) know the first sentence about our nation having been “conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal”. It goes on …“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.” The differences of opinion in the Untied States today cannot be compared to a civil war, but when I see our citizens so polarized I worry that this country I love, where I can live in peace and write my blog about living a good life might become as fragile as the pages of my book.

The book’s dedication reads “To our comrades, living and dead, this volume is lovingly dedicated.” and in the preface it is described as “a record of the private soldier-the man that placed the 'Stars' on the shoulders of the generals, the men that performed the hard work and suffered the most privation; the man that made it possible to preserve this Nation.” I have the greatest respect for the generations of soldiers who have fought and continued to fight, even in unpopular wars. To all those soldiers and to ALL my fellow Americans, in "red" or "blue" states, I lovingly dedicate this blog post. We are all soldiers in the cause of a brighter future.

No matter how you voted, let us now unite for the sake of our common concerns and goals. Partisan bickering must end. Like the members of Company A 6th Wisconsin, we are in the midst of a time that will define our nation’s history. Let us now, regardless of party affiliations, be grateful we live in a democracy—thanks to the brave soldiers of every generation. Let’s join together to ensure that a government “of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth”. Just like my book, without careful handling it could someday fall apart.

Here is how Cheek ended his book:

"No man liveth to himself alone. Not for themselves, but for their children, for those who may never hear of them in their nameless graves, have they yielded life ... Blessed be their memory forever."

Copyright 2012 Candace J. Brown

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The Magic Math of Little Things

For better or worse, little things always add up. I paid no attention to the tiny snowflakes yesterday morning in Tacoma. One here, one there, they twirled and drifted weightlessly in their slow descent, only to vanish on wet ground. Like money spent on coffee, a few extra calories, one day’s thin trace of dust, or unread mail, they seemed insignificant, easy to ignore. But then around noon I looked up to notice the cumulative change. With silent and steady persistence they had multiplied into a tumultuous tumble of feathery whiteness, covering the ground, turning the bare twigs of my Japanese maples into intricacies of lace, but also weighing heavily on the pots of cyclamen I had not yet planted. I sat alone in a room filled with that luminosity particular to light reflected off snow, and pondered the importance of paying attention to the little things.

Among them are the singular moments of childhood that add up to days and years. While we’re not noticing, our kids turn into adults and we realize childhood wasn’t about big things like the size of your house, bank accounts, or vacations. It was about the number of hugs and giggles, baby steps, lesson learned, story books and goodnight kisses.

I look at little spaces on the calendar and regret how many days have passed since I called certain people just to say “I love you,” or visited an old friend. Month-by-month another year went by without enough walks on the beach. The exhaust of too many cars pollutes the air. The books I mean to read, the unused balls of yarn, the recipe clippings, the emails, the weeds, the questions I never asked my mother before it was too late, have all been little things that add up to be subtlety guilt producing, stressful or sad.

But on the positive side there are those that culminate in something good. I think of the succession of days and nights, the laughs, concerns, tender moments, mundane chores and long talks that add up to marriage, or how over the years, small kindnesses and hours shared become a beautiful friendship. Step-by-step a goal is reached. Spare change piles up in a jar. Many photos make an album and stars, the night sky. Repetitions in the gym build muscle. A quilt evolves from bits of cloth and countless stitches. Practice makes perfect. Typing one word after another, my novel comes to life.

The choices we make accumulate. Whether as individuals or whole societies, our priorities, the way we spend our money, time, resources, thought, effort and energy, all add up to the sum of our lives and the legacies of our civilizations. Even if my own life turns out to be very long, and I hope it will, it’s still half gone. I find myself assessing it, for better or worse. So here is my firm intention: to pay attention. In the end I hope to see how a lot of good little things, like snowflakes, added up to a life as beautiful in memory as a white winter day in Tacoma.

"Celebrate Urban Birds!" program offers mini-grants

I love the way one good thing leads to another. For last week's blog post about hummingbirds I contacted Cornell University's Lab of Ornithology for permission to use a photo. My gracious contact there, Patricia Leonard, just emailed me about an exciting opportunity.

"Celebrate Urban Birds!" is a nationwide program designed to bring people together through planned events to learn more about birds in their urban environments, to appreciate and celebrate their presence, and ultimately to help them. It focuses on education, the "greening" of cities, bird-friendly gardening, and even the arts.

Visual art, music, literature and drama all bring a deeper awareness. This program involves citizens with the world of birds through celebrating their beauty and significance in our lives, and it incorporates, supports, and encourages art on many levels. That even includes an art challenge, and prizes. Information can be found on the website, along with an abundance of resources for planning, promoting and making the most of your own group event.

It sounds like a lot of fun but there's also a more serious side. That's why Cornell offers "mini-grants" ranging from $100 to $500, to help those planning events. (Applications can be filled out online but the deadline is February 15, 2009.) Researchers need our help on a local level to learn more about how well America's urban birds are doing. Birds trying to survive in cities live in close contact with humans. Every day our lifestyles and choices seriously impact whatever habitat they can find, whether it's a rooftop, park, or your own backyard. As "citizen scientists," participants in the Celebration are asked to spend a mere ten minutes observing birds in their communities and gathering information, then easily submitting their data online. By doing so we can make valuable contributions to this important effort.

You can help. Here's a chance to plan a fun and worthwhile event for your club, organization, business, school, church, community center, senior center, day care, or even a group of neighbors. What could be more perfect for kids? This is also a great idea for parents who are homeschooling. It's easy and can be as simple or involved as you choose. You'll find every bit of information you could ever need, plus inspiring ideas, examples, and so much more on the "Celebrate Urban Birds!" website. Just by registering you can receive a FREE celebration kit (while supplies last). Each kit contains a welcome letter, two gorgeous and informative posters, a sticker, a simple data form, and a packet of sunflower seeds to plant in your garden or container. (Note: Although the kits are offered at no cost, any donations made are very much appreciated and help to perpetuate this important program, and can be made online.)

Let's get started. First, order your kit and read the website, then have fun planning your own unique way of celebrating. The ten minutes spent gathering data to report can make a difference for urban birds. Next time you see a pigeon on the street, or that little songbird chirping and looking for crumbs near your outdoor table at a coffee shop, try to imagine city life without them. Remember how we all share this world and how much happier life is when we practice being good neighbors. Help make your city greener as a way of encouraging birds. They keep us connected with nature, even in the midst of concrete and congestion and their presence in our lives is truly something to celebrate.


Note: Please spread the word by sharing this Good Life Northwest blog post with your friends or anyone who might be interested. Thank you.

Wishing you a New Year with LESS

Now that the holiday gift giving season is over, how much additional “stuff” do you have in your house? How much of it do you really want or actually need? And how much did your own gift giving add to the clutter and waste in the world? On this last day of the old year, and eve of the new, my biggest resolution for 2009 is to live with LESS. I mean less spending and consumption, less clutter, less to care for and store, and less stress, resulting in MORE of my most precious resources: time and energy to enjoy my life.

As a young child in the late 1950s and early ‘60s I loved looking at the Sears and Roebuck Christmas Catalog and coveting all those new toys. At the same time I’d hear “old” people say they didn’t want any gifts because they already had everything they needed. To me that sounded just plain CRAZY. In my teen years it seemed embarrassing that my mother did things like saving buttons off worn-out garments before tearing them up into cleaning rags, or using vinegar and water to wash windows instead of buying Windex. It took her awhile to accept the idea of paper towels people just threw away after using, and the same with plastic packaging and disposable diapers. If some old apple tree produced nothing but wormy apples she’d cut off the salvageable parts and make applesauce. I blamed it all on the fact that she’d lived through the Great Depression, but wished she’d “get with it”. Mom was so old fashioned.

Oh my, if only she had lived to see me now…

My mother was right. I have my own jar of used buttons and a “rag bag” and more. Sorry Mom, but by now I’ve surpassed even you, in the recycling department, and when I use up this last roll of plastic wrap I’m not buying any more, even though I‘m kind of “clingy” in my relationship with that stuff. My friends and I get excited about discovering bargains and brag to each other about our thrift store and yard sale finds. It’s a big thrill to make something from nothing or find clever ways of reusing things. My husband and I love poking around architectural salvage places like Second Use, where we’ve found old bricks from Seattle’s original streets for a garden path, and a beautiful antique light fixture for our entry. Similar items show up at Tacoma’s Habitat for Humanity ReStore. It feels good to give new life to old things or pass along what you don’t need to someone who can use it.

When I visited Telluride, Colorado a few years ago (where there’s no shortage of money) I discovered the town had a “free box”. People leave things they don’t want or need, like clothing, household goods, books, tools, etc. and anyone who comes along is welcome to take whatever they want. I loved that idea and would like to see other communities start it up. But on the internet I found a bunch of fun and informative sites with the same treasure hunt appeal.

So… in honor of the memory of my mother, here’s a list of some great web resources for recycling, reusing, trading, bartering, and reducing waste, I hope you’ll enjoy.


Second Use Building Materials

Tacoma’s Habitat for Humanity ReStore

Habitat for Humanity U.S. directory of stores with many in the Pacific Northwest. Look for one near you.

Olympia Salvage

Freecycle

Barterquest

The Re-Store (Bellingham and Seattle, WA)

Hippo Hardware in Portland, OR

Earthwise Salvage

Remember your local used book stores. In Tacoma try:

Kings Books, Culpepper's, Point Defiance Books, and Half Price Books
Book Mooch

EcoGeek

Planet Green

Simple Living-"30 days to a simpler life"

More Life Less Stuff

Earth 911

Green Yahoo

And this one is full of fun ideas…
Ecologue
Check out the topics called “Recycled Goods” and “Crafty Recycling” for some interesting projects you can do, some suitable for kids.

Enjoy! Here’s wishing you a great new year with less of what you don’t need and more of the things that matter.

The Elusive Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving

When today’s kids grow up, what will their Thanksgiving memories be of? I wonder. Probably turkey, hopefully a happy family gathered together, maybe dinner at Grandma’s house. Or maybe not. Maybe the kids will be ignored in favor of football or maybe they’ll play football and love it. I don’t know. Thanks to TV and Hallmark and the world of mass marketing we have an image of what it’s “supposed” to be: an ephemeral swirl of warm pumpkin pie, ruby cranberry sauce, turkey and mashed potatoes covered with gravy, a charming group of congenial relatives in a perfectly clean house decorated with candles, and vases of chrysanthemums. Ah yes… I've had some of those. But how often is it really like that?

I’m not saying the image of the classic Thanksgiving is a fantasy. It must have seemed very real in 1943, when Americans reacted so emotionally to the famous painting by illustrator Norman Rockwell, called “Freedom From Want”. It touched people deeply. Even if you’re young you’ve surely seen it: the view down the dining room table with happy relatives seated on each side, the older parents or grandparents at the head of the table. The hostess is lowering a gigantic platter with a huge turkey on it and her husband, in his Sunday best, looks on in his kindly way, carving tools close at hand. Sixty-five years ago, the Saturday Evening Post magazine published this painting and three others in Rockwell’s series called “The Four Freedoms." The artist was inspired by a speech President Franklin D. Roosevelt gave to congress on January 6, 1941, while the Nazi’s dominated western Europe. The government rejected the paintings, when first approached by Rockwell. It wasn’t until they were published in the magazine and became a national sensation, that Uncle Sam decided they were pretty good after all, and made them into war bond posters that became icons of American culture. Like the illustrations of the quintessential 1950’s Santa Claus, these images are burned into my consciousness and the mood of my holidays.

I must say, I’m very lucky. As a kid on Vashon Island, I did have the big happy family, the turkey, and all the trimmings. It wasn’t perfect. I know my mother was sometimes tired and stressed out when she miraculously pulled that dinner together. We lived in an ordinary house, and maybe the silver didn’t get polished in time, or the windows washed. But I do remember wonderful aromas, cutout sugar cookies in the shape of turkeys, massive amounts of food including beautiful pies and special things like real butter and olives. At least they were special back then. Now I have butter all the time and turkey often, and too frequently indulge in olives. I’m old enough to remember when it was a big deal to get oranges in the wintertime. Now foods that used to be a treat, something else to be thankful for, are available all year and have lost their “special” status. In this age of abundant food supplies, as long as you have some money, the exclusive is more elusive. We need to try harder to make a day stand out.

This year our Thanksgiving here in Tacoma will be a very small affair, just the two of us and one good friend. None of our kids can be with us. My Dad will be at my sister’s condo, another party of three. My mother-in-law lives in an adult family home. The other two parents, I'm sad to say, are no longer with us. I lost a dear aunt, just last week. My brothers and sisters are scattered.

I’ll roast a turkey and bake a pie, but won’t go overboard on side dishes and extra sweets. I might light some candles. There won’t be any kids running around, a crowd in the kitchen to get in the way, noisy talk and laughter, and a general commotion. I’ve experienced all that, and yes, I will miss it. But the reality is that over time circumstances change.

Yet I am deeply thankful. I have people in my life to love and be loved by. I’m healthy. I have a home, good food, friends, a great dog, and my writing and music. I’m living Norman Rockwell’s Four Freedoms and appreciate them and those who have sacrificed for them. Think of people who are spending Thanksgiving sad and alone, with loved ones fighting a war, or those sitting next to the bed of someone dying a hospital, or those are ill and in pain, or homeless. There are families who will drink too much and fight, violent and abusive in front of the kids or even hurting them, and police officers (who are missing dinner with their own families) will come to the door and arrest someone. Not a very pretty picture, is it? Sorry, but those are the realities of Thanksgiving for some people.

We can dream of the ideal version of Thanksgiving if we’ve actually had that, or grieve for what we missed if we haven’t. Or, we can alter our expectations and open ourselves to the possibility of finding new joys and creating new traditions. I see people choosing to spend the day volunteering at a food bank, or inviting someone who is lonely into their homes to share a meal. One friend of mine, whose Thanksgiving will be a quiet and uneventful day, is planning to go to church. She doesn’t expect to see many people there, but it is the way she has chosen to express and experience her own thankfulness. The important thing is to simply BE thankful, for truly, we have so much to be thankful for.

Whatever you are doing, and wherever you’ll be, spend the day with a grateful heart. If you’re grumpy, shape up. If you’re mad, get over it. Call somebody. Share. Remember those who are gone and what is important. Show your love. Laugh. Yours may not be a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving but it could still be the best one yet.


I hope you all, dear readers, have a happy Thanksgiving in your own unique way.

Back in Your Own Backyard- the unstructured childhood

Have you played outside today? I remember when every day, except during extreme weather, included playing outside. It ranked up there with the three main features of life as a child: eating, sleeping and going to school, all of which adults controlled. That fact brings me to the distinction everyone seems to be missing these days: PLAY TIME BELONGED TO US.

We owned that open, unstructured time, to do with as we pleased. It made us aware of something larger than ourselves, a world we all belonged in together. The quality of that time, whether it proved to be fun, or not so fun, depended entirely on our own creative imaginations, social skills, and problem solving abilities. It made us healthy and happy.

I feel lucky. We had plenty of open space, beyond just lawn. a big lawn. Our two-and-a-half acres didn’t include woods but did have a huge hay field with grass tall enough to hide in when you’re little and one of many well compacted paths from one neighbor's house to another. Brush and cattails hid a frog pond. We climbed trees, scraped our knees, dug deep enough in our sandbox to capture wiggly earth worms down where the dampness remained. We got dirt under our fingernails. Our play equipment included old blankets, boards, sticks, barrels, ropes, sand, water, mud puddles, tin cans, hammer and nails, etc. It also helped to have a mother who didn’t care if you got dirty as long as you wore your coat and rubber boots, if needed, and washed up before supper. Wasn’t I lucky?

My own sons had a different childhood than mine, of course, but it still contained some of these elements, the most important being unstructured time. They had woods to play in, built “camps” and explored, could walk to a nearby stream, and had safe places to ride bikes without constant supervision. Sure I worried about them, but with some lessons in safety and common sense, they survived, and like my generation, ended the day with rosy cheeks and a good appetite.

When I walk around my Tacoma neighborhood these days I wonder where all the kids are. I see very few. Sometimes they're on the sidewalks on bikes or skateboards or sometimes walking. Often they’re plugged into an iPod or talking on cell phones. I do see them on city playfields participating in organized sports. True, that means fresh air and exercise, but it isn’t the same thing as chasing each other around playing hide and seek or some other made-up game. The place I see them rarely is in their own backyards. Interestingly enough, research shows that even kids in rural areas now spend as much time indoors as city kids. Is it any wonder we now see so many children, including the youngest, with problems like obesity, symptoms of stress, poor attention spans and sleep disturbances? I worry about them, and I’m not alone.

In 2005 a man named Richard Louv published a book of major importance, called Last Child in the Woods-Saving our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder. This book became a catalyst for a movement to get kids back outside, and in 2008 Richard Louv was awarded the Audubon Medal. Washington State Parks has joined this cause with its No Child Left Inside program. I've also discovered a great web site called Green Hour, meant as a resource for parents and run by the National Wildlife Federation. Another good one is Let’s Go Outside sponsored by the Fish and Wildlife Service. Just type something like “kids and nature” into your search box and you’ll find more.

I feel sorry for kids living in apartments, but even in the city a vacant lot or stand of trees can mean a place with bugs to catch and rocks and leaves to collect, or room to act out a pretend scenario. Our future depends on the next generation having people who know how to think for themselves, come up with creative solutions, cooperated, and most importantly, care about our planet. All of those come from playing outside. And don’t forget this: it isn’t just for kids. Even if you’re an adult at work when you read this find a minute to GET OUTSIDE and breath some fresh air, feel the refreshing chill of autumn, hear a bird sing. Dig in your garden, rake leaves, go for a walk, have a foot race with a giggling kid. Come on. The sun is shining out there. It’s good for you. Just ask Mom.


Note: Comments are welcome, especially information to share with people living in the Pacific Northwest about this movement in our area. Thanks!
And yes, that's me in the sandbox in 1956.

Tacoma's Proctor District Featured on San Francisco Website

Writing Good Life Northwest puts me in touch with the most interesting people, like Fred Gillette, from San Francisco. Fred became a regular reader of my blog a few months before we were introduced during one of his visits to Tacoma. Standing in the sunshine outside the Pacific Northwest Shop, with the cheerful commotion of the Proctor Farmers' Market in the background, we finally met face-to-face, thanks to our mutual friend, Bill Evans. Right away Fred and I found ourselves deep in discussion on a favorite topic: neighborhoods.

Fred Gillette and two other dedicated people in San Francisco, run the registered non-profit called Neighborhood Life. They believe that the quality of our neighborhoods is intimately tied to the quality of our lives, and strive to connect people all over America who want to share ideas for enhancing and improving neighborhoods. Four times a year they publish an issue of this online neighborhood improvement journal. With a vast quantity of readers across the country, including hundreds of regular subscribers, it brings people together to share ideas for dealing with problems, highlights successes, explores possibilities, and seeks solutions. Neighborhood Life celebrates the American neighborhood, in all its diversity, character, and uniqueness.

I'm delighted to say that the first article on the "Features" page is called "A Walk Around Proctor", which I wrote for Neighborhood Life at Fred's request. Maybe you already know Proctor, or maybe you don't. Either way, I invite you to wander down those sidewalks with me, to see the sights, meet the people, and learn why this particular neighborhood functions so well. Please come along as I take "A Walk Around Proctor". Here's the link:

Neighborhood Life

I'll meet you on the corner in a minute.

THE SMART MONKEY STORY

"Smart Monkey wanted to save the planet
but didn't know anything about
environmental science or CAFÉ standards,
and wasn't even rich or powerful.

But Smart Monkey had gone
to fashion school and
one day had an idea…"

So begins a brochure created by Leah Andersson, Tacoma entrepreneur and owner of Smart Monkey Knits. This morning I asked her about the name.

"One day I dropped a pen behind the couch and couldn't reach it with my hand" she said. "Then I thought to turn my hand, twisting it a certain way, and suddenly it worked and I said out loud 'Smart Monkey'. That's how I got the idea but it also means I hope mankind is getting smarter as we continue to evolve."

Leah wakes up every morning focused on her goals. But even with all her intelligence, hard work, long hours, and dedication you could say that Andersson's business is unraveling. Literally. She unravels gently used, natural fiber sweaters and turns them into newly created knit or crochet garments and accessories, or simply gorgeous skeins of what she calls "refurbished" yarn.

How does she do this? It involves buying sweaters at thrift stores or garage sales, taking them apart, unraveling, thoroughly washing the yarn, wrapping onto racks for air drying, and then gathering it into skeins using the skein winder she recently purchased. Before that she wound all the yarns into balls by hand. It's the first step, that most excites the keen eye and imagination of this fiber artist who holds a Certificate of Professional Designation in Clothing Production from the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in California. She can see the hidden potential in an ugly sweater, if the yarn and colors hold appeal.

Why does she do this?

" Because our planet is smaller than we think and we should all do our little bit to manage the resources we have. Synthetic/petroleum based fibers and dyes pollute the environment. Imported items take away jobs from Americans and screw up our trade deficit" she says. "The production of even natural yarn leaves a big carbon footprint. It takes fuel to raise the sheep, do the manufacturing, and transporting, sometimes around the world. I can't undo those things but at least I can extend the life of it once it's been made."

Beyond all that, Leah's efforts are a reflection of her philosophy of avoiding waste and "making do", far from a new concept. In my generation I watched my mother save every button and zipper from discarded clothing and then cut it up into rags, typical of women like her, who lived through the Great Depression.

The "whys" also include less tangible benefits, like the delights of creativity. Whether by her hands or those of someone else, seeing the metamorphosis of used garments into stunning new fashions with exciting combinations of colors thrills Andersson.

I met Leah not long after Smart Monkey grew from a fuzzy little idea to a real business. In the beginning she concentrated on creating simple knitted and crocheted items like hats, scarves, shawls, ponchos, and baby blankets to sell as finished products at farmers markets and street fairs. As a knitter I couldn't resist walking up to her booth the first time I saw the rich palate of colors and tactile appeal it presents. I also liked her sign that says "Not made in China".

After finding out I could knit and crochet Leah recruited me to help with production, a growing challenge. In addition to the beauty of the finished items customers loved the whole idea of recycling and reusing and demand soared. I became one of several women who helped Leah keep the inventory coming.

Of course knitters embraced the whole concept of the business, but knitters are always thinking "I'd rather do it myself". Leah soon had requests for just the yarn. She filled a few orders but continued making items to sell. As business increased time available for the needlework seemed to decrease. That's when Smart Monkey had another great idea: emphasizing selling the yarn.


Now when you visit Smart Monkey at the Broadway Farmers Market in Tacoma or the Fremont Market in Seattle, your eyes will go straight for the neat brown paper bags with handles, full of luscious offerings: wool, cotton, silk and ramie, with a richness of color only natural fibers can attain. The hues and textures will delight you and so will the prices. A bag of yarn averaging 1,000 yards, plenty for a sweater (after all it WAS a sweater) will cost you about $35. Where could you ever find such a deal on good yarn, much less a finished garment?

I love the tags tied to the handles. In addition to telling "The Story of Smart Monkey" they show a photo of the original sweater that particular bag of yarn came from and the original fiber content and care label is attached. Custom orders are also available. You can even bring in a used sweater of your own and let Leah work her metamorphosis magic on it.

Leah still sells plenty of finished items too. One of her most popular with shoppers is the reusable "market bag", perfect for all that fresh produce. She can't seem to make enough of those and sells many for gifts.

"Remember, there are only about 114 days until Christmas" she said to me today. Thanks Leah. That isn't necessarily what I wanted to hear, but I know this much. When I do get around to Christmas shopping I'll be doing some at Smart Monkey, especially for myself. Hey, I've been good this year.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Leah Andersson can be reached at (253) 229-2841 or leah@neilandersson.com
Coming soon: www.smartmonkeyknits.com
Smart Monkey will be at Tacoma's Broadway Farmers Market every Thursday until it closes on Oct. 16th and at the Fremont Farmers Market in Seattle every Sunday all year long.

Also be sure to check out the radio interview Leah gave about her business on the KUOW program "Sound Focus".

Ode to the end of August

August can’t leave without long good-byes. Another year of life, a year now pregnant with the consequences of my thoughts and deeds, rounds out in the fullness of her eighth month. In these last few days, I wander through the garden, unhurried. Around me linger faded roses and blackberries, overripe, and the perfume of fallen apples rises from the ground. Corn stalks rustle in a slight breeze. Under the cornhusks golden kernels hide, swollen and crowed. This eighth month feels heavy with memories of Augusts past.

On a rare quiet afternoon in my Tacoma home I daydream in a chair by an open window. The unread book slips from my hand. A wind chime tinkles and I hear a lawn mower down the street. In my mind I am back in my mother’s kitchen on Vashon Island, forty-five years ago, releasing kidney beans from their dry tan shells. Plink. Plink. Plink. They hit the enameled bowl while the pressure cooker whistles on the stove. The canning never ends. I would rather look again through the new Sears and Roebuck catalog, at the school clothes we might order. Now I think of my mother in her apron, filling the clean Mason jars.

August means brown lawns, grasshoppers and ripe tomatoes. Leaves float in the wading pool. The porch furniture needs cleaning. The petunias look scraggly. Shorter days seem to symbolize its sense of impending change, from one season to another, from child to adult. In this eighth month, under a full moon, the first poignant summer romances of youth, ended. The memories of youth became never ending.

This August I pondered that same moon while riding the last ferry of the night from Vashon Island back to Tacoma. That moon never abandons me, witness to my years. It always seems biggest at this time of year. With my car parked far out on the open deck, I relished having a front row seat. I opened the windows to the warm air, the scent and sounds of the water. In the distance, on all sides, from Des Moines to Gig Harbor, the scattered lights of the human domain lit up the darkness, but it pleased me to see the great expanse of black that is Point Defiance Park, and to know that wild creatures, with their all-seeing eyes, still crept among the trees. The moon watches them too, and shines down on the pathways I walk, soon to be covered with autumn leaves.

Good-byes can be long or quick and painful, but to the human heart, never final. They are but chapters in the book that has dropped from the hand. We pick it up and read again, over and over, for as long as memory lasts, as long as the heart feels. The year that now reaches its fullness will give birth to more memories, but also new opportunities and dreams as the seasons change and the year goes ‘round again. Good-bye August. You are always bittersweet. Next year when the apples hang ready to fall, and butter slides over an ear of corn, my life may have changed, but you and I, the past and the present, and the moon, will all meet again.

Recollections of Collections and Living Little

Candy the collector in 1956

Kids know something adults forget: there are tiny worlds of wonder right at your feet. Back in the days when I lived much closer to the ground, I knew those worlds intimately. Like a bug blazing a trail through a mini-forest of grass blades, I lived the exuberant life of explorer. Biology and geology were my favorite fields of research, often conducted barefoot on Vashon Island’s beaches.

The only problem with being a specimen collector came from sharing a bedroom with my big sister. That, of course, also meant sharing the bedroom closet, including the floor of that closet, which happened to be the location of my museum of specimens. (By the way, this was the sister who grew up to study interior decorating. Does that tell you anything?) For lack of proper display cases I kept my specimens in rumpled brown paper bags, unmarked but categorized none-the-less. For reasons I consider quite petty, she had “issues” with this.

Back in the 1950s, before the curse of plastic bottles, a walk on the beach could yield handfuls of beach glass, the power of nature made evident in colored gems ground down to frosty semi-smoothness after years of caressing by water and sand. Being a sharply observant beachcomber under three feet tall, I found plenty. Naturally one of the paper sacks contained beach glass.

“WHAT? ONE! DID YOU SAY ONE?” (That’s my sister yelling when she reads this.) OK. I’ll admit that there were three, one for each color: beer bottle brown, pop bottle green, and opaque white, (once clear). Actually, make that five. I forgot about aqua, and the most precious of all, cobalt blue. So there were five. What’s the big deal? The beauty of those pieces of beach glass made it all worth while. I admired and fondled them so often I think I took over where the water and sand left off, and smoothed them even more in my tiny hands. And if you held them to your nose you could imagine the faint scent of the sea. So dreamy.

“Somewhat-less-than-dreamy” might describe the scent that arose from a few other paper sacks in the closet. My penchant for seashells meant I couldn’t pass up any, even those rather recently inhabited. The clam shells left over from a seagull’s lunch, with half-dried bits of clam guts still stuck on, smelled pretty bad. But I found them beautiful. Just like the purple muscle shells, their insides held rainbows of mother-of-pearl, and sometimes barnacles decorated the outsides. I’d seen barnacles alive in the water, tiny creatures flicking hair-like body parts into the brine. Those stuck on my shells, though closed tight, still held the wonder of their underwater world. But the prize for smell and fascination went to the sack full of still moist sand dollars, their tops etched with leaf-like designs. They became to the closet what unwrapped Limburger cheese is to a refrigerator.

Did I mention the rocks? Rocks come in all colors, so that collection took up a lot of space. They look so gorgeous wet on the beach, in jade green, butterscotch gold, white and gray. Some came in brick red, and my Dad told me they weren’t really rocks, but ground down pieces of real bricks, from the many brickyards that once operated on Puget Sound, because of the native clay. They deserved their own special sack. Agates too. So did the “wishing rocks,” the ones with white rings around them, possessed of certain magical powers. All the rocks lost some color once dried, but it was nothing a little spit couldn’t fix.

Now when I walk the seashore in Tacoma, at Pt. Defiance or Titlow Beach, I catch myself crouching down, intent on the close-up view. It was a lot easier at age three. But I still wonder at the grains of sand, the lost feather, the bits of seaweed, green and brown. The kid in me can’t help hoping I’ll find something really special, a perfect periwinkle or the now rare piece of beach glass. My closet is still full, but not with these treasures. I finally gave up the collection, maybe as late as my early teens, when I discovered more interesting specimens: boys. And yet, if you showed up on my front porch today you could find a rock or two, or maybe a shell. I hope I never get so grown up that I can’t delight in turning away from the great big world around me and focusing for a moment on the one at my feet. Next time you’re out in nature, move a little closer to the ground and remember how it felt to live little.

CALENDULA NURSERY-a feast for more than the eye

As cheerful as the sunshine at Tacoma's Proctor Farmers' Market, Scott Gruber talks passionately, about plants. Scott and his wife Jill Bryant are partners and owners of Calendula Nursery and Landscaping, a means of livelihood that the word "business" just isn't adequate to describe. I listen, giving him my full attention, but I catch myself starting to grin. It isn't that he said anything funny, although a man with a business logo like his is not without humor. It's just that I can't suppress the delight I always feel when I see a person living a life built around what they love. Or maybe my smile is simply a reflection of his own. He can't suppress his either.

Busy with customers at the market, our friend Scott kept getting back to telling us, with great enthusiasm, about the aronia bush my husband and I were purchasing. This gorgeous ornamental shrub that bears delicious, nutritious fruit, is symbolic of the latest hot trend in home gardening: the edible landscape. But Scott's taste in plants is far more of the trend setting variety than trend following. Since the beginning he's believed in growing his own food.
















"Food ALWAYS tastes better when you grow it yourself!" he states. "These days with all the concerns about where our food comes from and what conditions it's grown under, more and more people want to put their landscape to use to produce something edible." But rather than a few traditional fruit trees or rows of vegetables in a garden patch, Scott uses his background as an artist to combine form with function, creating an environment that nourishes both body and soul.

It's amazing how many garden plants can provide both beauty and food. Beyond the expected food producing plants, there are all kinds of vines, shrubs and flowers that can be eaten, even certain day lilies. On the Edibles page of Calendula's amazing web site I counted well over one hundred choices. Many of these plants can be grown in containers on a patio or deck. Scott adds, "I like to see people get away from the grocery store mentality and discover the physical and psychological benefits of landscaping with edible plants."



The word is out: Calendula Nursery is unique! Masterful gardening knowledge, inspiration, art appreciation, and maybe a whole new philosophy for your life, are all offered for free, alongside the most impressive selection of healthy, vigorous plants anywhere. This is no chain store garden department. It's more like the biggest family reunion Mother Nature ever held, with every individual plant loved, appreciated and understood.

Like their plants, Scott and Jill each have their best spot in the the garden. Jill spends most of her time out on the grounds of the nursery, helping customers while caring for the plants she loves, and the details of their enterprise. Scott thrives on design and interaction, sharing his enthusiasm, opening up an interesting world for people and watching how they react. Both do a lot of hard physical work, but love it. Together they are the definition of synergy.

Customers are inspired by Scott's philosophy of landscaping. Before becoming a nurseryman Scott was, and still is, an artist, a sculptor. At some point in time he came to realize that he wanted to create sculpture on a very large scale. He starts with earth and rock, adds color and texture, fragrance, sounds (through water features and bird habitat) and with the addition of the experience of taste, through edibles, he involves all five of our senses. Looking at a landscape as a living, dynamic work of art, he also considers the colors of the changing seasons and the growth of the plants, how it will look five or ten years later.

In addition to ornamentals and edibles Calendula features herbs too, thereby offering plants for complete wellness of mind, body, and soul. Here are a few of Scott's favorite plant picks (in his own words):

Lingonberry (Vaccinium vitis-idaea) – Evergreen groundcover. 12"-18" high. Sun to part shade. This plant makes an exceptional ground cover spreading by underground runners. It will carpet an area in the same manner as Kinikinnick, which is also edible, but Lingongerries are far more tasty! Pinkish white flowers in summer and early spring turn to bright red 1/4 inch tasty but tart fruit. Berries persist into winter and are best after a frost or two. Makes excellent sweetened preserves or tossed fresh into muffins and pancakes. These features are especially delightful as the fruit is typically available in the middle of winter when you least expect it! Lingonberries are rich in vitamin C and other anti-oxidants and the plant and it’s berries have been used as food and medicine for millennia throughout Europe and northern Asia from Scandinavia to Siberia.

Aronia (Aronia melanocarpa) – An under-utilized shrub in the Northwest, Aronia varieties can range in size from 2 feet to 6 feet, produce tasty and very nutritious bluish-black berries, and look stunning in white spring flowers or in blazing autumn red and orange foliage. The berries have a high concentration of vitamin C and are very high in a class of molecules called anthocyanins. Anthocyanins are found in most red, blue or black fruit and plant material and are showing through continuing research to be the most powerful anti-oxidants and to have effects on diseases such as cancers and diabetes. On top of all that, Aronia berries have a high amount of pectin. So much, in fact, that you can add Aronia juice instead of packaged pectin to gel your preserves! Easy to grow in full sun to light shade in virtually any soil, Aronias are also drought tolerant once established.

Goumi (Eleagnus multiflora) - A pretty, medium sized shrub, Goumi grows to about 6 ft. high and wide. Fragrant creamy white flowers bloom in April and are followed by beautiful, flavorful fruit that resemble small pie cherries. Leaves are silvery underneath and both fruit and foliage are covered in silver and gold flecks. 'Sweet Scarlet' was selected in Kiev, Ukraine for its superior fruit - great for pies, preserves or fresh eating.

Goumi fruit is very high in vitamins A,C, and E, and has the complete range of fatty acids used by the human body, which is very unusual in fruits. It has also been used to treat intestinal and stomach illnesses and to improve circulation.

Sarcococca – One of the true delights for deep shade to part sun, Sarcococca, or, Sweetbox, is a 2-4 foot evergreen shrub with smallish, dark green lustrous leaves, and profuse small white flowers that appear in late winter to early spring. But wait, that’s not all! The flowers are intensely scented with an intoxicatingly sweet perfume that will yank you out of a late winter mope and put a smile on your face in an instant! Great for those deep, dark, difficult corners in your garden. Virtually maintenance-free.

Ajuga – Also called Bugleweed, Ajuga is the best of the best for that irritatingly difficult spot under a conifer or any other tricky spot. It grows just as well in shade or sun, acid to alkali soil, and produces gorgeous purple 6-10 inch flower spikes in spring. It spreads by runners above ground and forms a 2 inch thick evergreen mat that inhibits weeds and helps keep the soil below it moist. It plays well with other plants as it gradually covers an area. Ajuga’s foliage comes in various shades of green, green mottled with cream and lavender, bronze, and deep purple. It needs water until it’s established, but is self-sufficient after that.

Echinacea – Also called ‘Coneflower’, Echinacea has been a staple for gardeners, natural healers, herbalists, and indigenous cultures for millennia. As a garden plant, the only thing it requires once established is sun. It grows in virtually any soil, will take wet or drought conditions and reliably starts blooming in early to mid summer and keeps going throughout autumn. Varieties are available with flowers ranging from pink and purple to coral, reds, oranges, yellow and white. Height can range from 18 inches to 42 inches. The flowers are bold and bright and rest facing the sky atop sturdy, erect stems. Therapeutically, Echinacea is a tonic for the whole body, has been used for myriad circulatory, lymphatic, and respiratory conditions and is an incredibly effective detoxifier. It strengthens the immune system helping the body ward off seasonal illnesses such as colds and flu. North American native cultures used it to treat stings, bites, sores, wounds and burns as it possesses anti-bacterial qualities. Much more information about therapeutic uses of Echinacea can easily be found in bookstores and on the internet.

Be sure to look at the web site for Calendula Nursery, where of course you'll find directions and all the latest news. Right now they're featuring BERRIES of every kind! For an education in plants that ought to earn you a degree, just click on Outdoor Plants. That will take you to many more categories to choose from, such as Edibles. Enjoy a whole new world of gardening with Scott and Jill and Calendula Nursery!

Copyright 2008 Candace J. Brown