Counter
In the lull between W.W. II and Korea, while I
was still held by Lutherans, my parents settled for a
few years in Aberdeen, Washington. Two of my
father’s sisters lived there, and one of his uncles.
In the uncle’s home, my brother and I learned that
you could build the sauna inside the house (heresy),
that we might have a Manx kitten from the coming
litter (infecting me with a lifelong affection for the
breed), and that, when we visited, our great-aunt
would play “Il I Knew You Were Comin I d Have
Baked a Cake” on their record player. It was the first
record I can recall.
A few years later, in a valley east of Portland, I
began to study violin. Among the things I received
from my teacher were records of my own, Hood
damaged old records, 78’s, grooved on one side,
smooth on the other. One recording was signed on
the label by Yehudi Menhuin, one of a handful of
great violionists of this century .
Knighted by the British Crown, loved and revered
around the world, Menhuin’s gifts as a violinist and
conductor are only part of him. He was largely
responsible for bringing Ravi Shankar and the
wonders of Indian music to this country thirty years
ago. He has helped us open our ears to unfamiliar
musical worlds.
While being interviewed in the late 1980’s,
Menhuin was asked what he would say to an
audience of educators. He replied that he would tell
them that every day at school should begin with lots
of singing and dancing. He meant it.
More recently a study in Rhode Island caught
national attention. Music was added to the schoolday
of first graders for several weeks, and testing
revealed strong increases in verbal, reading, and
writing skills. Even more remarkable were huge
increases in mathematics abilities.
Linguistic theory tells us that our language
structures the way we think. More languages give a
person broader, richer cognitive skills. Moreover,
languages can be absorbed almost at will by children
between two and ten, when they are learning how to
think. We would suggest that some of these
languages are musical, that each kind of music is a
language of great value.
Thanks to people like Sir Yehudi, music from all
around the world can be heard everyday: familiar
instruments used in strange, exciting ways, and
strange instruments made from available materials
creating living sounds. They give us new ways of
hearing, of seeing, of thinking.
Adding an emphasis on music and languages to
primary education would benefit the students in
many, many ways, but there is a further truth that
makes it even more attractive. You don’t have to
force it. Most children just love to sing and dance.
Culture
Sandy Rea
Cookies • Cinnamon Rolls
• Muffins • Espresso •
Pizza by the Slice
Tea is an art. True tea, not that crap with a
picture of a cabby on the front. And I’m
talking about tea as an event rather than a
beverage.
The north coast is particularly suited do
doing tea year-round. I have a plain wooden
chest in the living room filled with table
cloths and doilies, fond mementos of the
grandm other who brought her belongings
from Pennsylvania to far-off California in it.
She traveled west with her new husband, who
would later become mayor of the town they
settled in. As Mayor’s wife she excelled in
giving teas, and had a cupboard full of serving
pieces for every holiday season. She gained
fu rth er stature in the community by suing the
m ayor for divorce - unheard of in that era --
when apprised of his dalliances. He was not
re-elected. She went to USC and became a real
estate broker.
I discovered her cabinets full of blown glass
and silver jug about the time we had all
decided to become very cool beatniks who
drank black coffee or plain tea. Austerity was
the key. Because the knickknacks were too
beautiful not to use, and because I truthfully
leaned a bit m ore toward Marie Antoinette
than Jack Kerouac, they began shifting from
her cupboards to mine over the years. Now
they delight her great- and great-great
grandchildren at family meals.
But, more importantly, they are used for Tea.
My idea of a ideally set table is one that boast
enough lace to look like a platform frothed
with whipped cream. You start there, add
terrific food, like cucum ber/w atercress
sandwiches, real scones (hot, of course), and
chunks of butter in a crystal dish, at least two
exotic jams like kiwi or quince, and a three
tiered plate of small cakes and sweets. The
teapot must be positioned so as to exude that
Grande Dame flavor, filled with a perfectly
brewed tea that is unavailable at any
superm arket. Surround it with small dishes of
lemon wedges, clotted cream, cashews, mints,
and sliced fresh fruit in season. Any three
friends who are willing to wear fabulous hats
and enjoy themselves unabashedly. We have
such a good time together at tea that we have
been know to squeal upon hearing an
invitation. (It is the only time we squeal.)
In the winter, tea is in front of the fireplace,
with hot gingerbread, lemon sauce, curried
chicken sandwiches, and plain scones. We
drink a hearty pot of black tea with it, soaking
up the warmth of the fire and the friendship
to use against the howling bleakness outside.
We talk of books we intend to read, of places we
have visited.
Children take to tea like they do to a decent
m ud puddle. For them the menu changes to
peanut butter and jelly or egg salad
sandwiches, muffins, and all the sweets. I hey
like it when something familiar like carrot
sticks or grapes crops up on the table. More
often than not, it’s the concept of having
dessert in the middle of the afternoon that
appeals to them most. One of our favorite tea
traditions sprang from our first children’s tea:
the use of different china patterns at every
setting.
Now the adults are the ones who are quick to
choose the Blue setting, or the Bird or Ivy cup.
Each has her favorite, and will hint at
disappointm ent if it is not on the table each
time. Our flexibility takes a direct hit when we
wear hats with large flowers.
The ambiance can be as varied as the type of
tea someone serves, from Rose Petal to Imerial
Gunpowder (it’s a guy thing). No one has ever
turned down one of my invitations, regardless
of w hether it was to be held at the mahogany
dining room table or at a suitable patch of
greenery overlooking the ocean at Ecola Park.
We delight in our teas, and in our
com panionship. My favorite women attend,
share, dream , and heal each other with their
presence. Last fall we (successfully) included
a weekly tea in the prescribed regimen for the
treatm ent of breast cancer. The prospect of a
Friday afternoon tea in Astoria softened the
impact of Monday’s chemo session to a
surprising degree. It was so much more fun to
peruse petis four recipes than Bernie Siegel,
despite his actual contributions to us all. I
can’t imagine anyone who would understand
better.
And, to, my poor, em barrassed children:
Upon my demise, I want to be tossed onto a
pyre wearing a large green straw hat with a
cabbage rose, clutching a box of Typhoo in one
hand, and a stunning Royal Doulton cup in the
other next to a pot of water (which has been,
of course, brought to a ROLLING boil.) No bags
in mv heaven.
Cheri Lerma
239 N. Hemlock
P.O. Box 825
Cannon Beach, OR 97110
(503) 436-1129
Shaking
hands with ou rself
Micheál Sears, D.C.
I pleasantly surprised this week to receive
in the mail an invitation to Wavy Gravy’s 60th
birthday party, a music and fun bash being .
held at the Berkeley Community Theatre.
While the name may not be familiar to all
reading this, Wavy (AKA Hugh Romney) is a
sixties cultural icon, perhaps best rem em bered
for organizing the food for the original
Woodstock Nation. Appearing most frequently
in clown wtyte-face, Wavy was quoted only
once in the invitation. He said, “We are all one
person trying to learn how to shake hands
with o u rself.”
If the Seva Foundation, whose motto is
“compassion in action”, the sponsor of the
birthday gathering, was looking for a
sum m ary statem ent for Gravy’s sixty years,
they picked a good one. Perhaps nothing more
aptly describes the collective deconstruction
we face today, or the mysterious “everything
is connected” post-acid astonishment of the
sixties, than reference to hum anity as one
person.
I got a renewed insight into this mystery
recently by hiking to the whale trail at Cape
Lookout. This path of a mile or so leads from
the coast hiway through untouched old growth
to an eventual cliff jutting out into the sea.
Lying down on your stomach and looking over
the edge, you have a good chance of seeing
California gray whales swimming beneath
you. As glorious as whales can make you feel,
what impressed me this day was the old growth
forest leading to the sea. Here you can see
massive old trees, spectacular in their size and
antiquity, growing out of the remains of still
older ancestors. Ancient nurse logs provide
nutrition and support for those still living;
and organic hope for those to come.
I realized on the trail that day that we, too,
carry our ancestors on our backs. Just as the
nurse logs sustain their children, our
individual lives are a product of the
nourishm ent and support of earlier hum an
presence. We as a w'alking combination of the
genetic history of our species. Like the trees,
we are captives of time, but we are not rooted
in one place. Like the trees, we are dependent
upon an organic m atrix for our continued
survival; but by creative invention we are not
totally subject to natural law. Like the trees,
we give of ourselves for future generations’,
but we are not limited to a plant’s ability to
give. Each child represents hum anity’s best
chance for a progressively evolving
civilization. Each child is the torch-bearer for
all past generation’s hope for survival.
It seems to me that what is most deeply
needed today is an individual sense of
contribution to a collectively shared vision.
Not a vision just for one’s family or country,
although th a t’s part of it, but a vision of one’s
kind, hum anity as a whole. We are beginning
to speak of hum anity as a single organism
striving to become sustainable on our planet
home. It is a deep and mysterious field of
understanding, informed by science, religion
and philosophy, which we are struggling to
express. We know that no cell in the human
body exists apart from the body, whether in
contributing to its function or deriving its
share for the well-being of the whole.
Working together, the cells of the body find a
collective well-being and consciousness
unachievable bv any single cell or group of
cells. That is to' say, the purpose of biological
developm ent transcends the mere existence of
the body and its parts. Is this not also true for
the collective body of humanity?
Please forgive these limitations of
understanding. I’m not able to get there by
myself; it’s something we need to do together.
The time is ripe. Endowed with the wealth ol
all the genetic and cultural diversity that has
evolved through past ages, we are now
challenged to draw on our collective
inheritance to take up consciously the
responsibility for the design of our future. We
are all involved in the birth pangs of
h u m an ity ’s coming of age. The skeleton of our
present understanding needs the flesh, blood,
and muscle of wide-spread consultation to
bring forth the vision of humanity as one soul
one body.
Happy Birthday, Wavy.
Philip • Thompson
■ architect
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a r c h ite c tu re & e n v ir o n m e n ta l p la n n in g
25925 N.W. St. Helens Rd., Scappoose, OR 97056
Fire M ountain School
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cu rren tly has openings for new students. For
inform ation and applications, please call the
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