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The war is on. It started innocently enough. I
suppose most wars do.
Rex Amos, artist, called "O ld Trapper" by his
intimates. "4" by me, (the number o f his $100 mug at Clark's),
strode into a public gathering last week sporting a snappy
campaign hat. Some Deschutes River folks had bequeathed it
to him, a handsome topper all right, one o f those Teddy
Roosevelt beauties, the kind Smokey wears, the pinch-crown
version, o f standard issue to Royal Canadian Mounteds.
"Damn fine hat!" 1 offered.
"Thanks,” Rex replied. "Look inside here. See, it
says 'nutria quality.' Yes, 1 have quite a collection o f hats.
I've always fancied hats. W hy, my friend R ick Rubin once
wrote an article describing me as The A rtist o f M any Hats."
Humph! I thought to myself. This shan't pass
unchecked.
"I'm quite a hat aficionado m yself," I countered.
"Hmm. W ell, yes, I see," Rex said, letting the thing
trail o ff into other subjects.
A t our next meeting, I was loaded and primed. I
sauntered into the coffee shop where he was sitting, crowned
in a stunning Nguyen Cao K y style Thai baseball cap, all
ornately beaded in elephantine designs.
"Fine hat," he acknowledged.
That started the on-going scuffle that has yet to be
resolved.
He counter attacked next day w ith a baseball cap that
said "W ill W ork fo r Jesus." I parried w ith a series o f slouch
hats and berets. He held the field fo r several subsequent
skirmishes w ith a series o f high-grade Stetson, dipped-brim
beavers o f 20's and 30's vintage. Q uality hats, I w arrant
The Gettysburg o f our current campaign occurred one
memorable evening at a neighborhood barbecue. Amos h it the
field like a Macedonian in fu ll battle array, staging a vicious
sortie, a fu ll frontal attack w ith pincer action on the flanks. He
first donned a Salvation A rm y Colonel's hat. Onward
Christian Soldiers! A quick left, right, left, goose step, and he
appeared in a Buddhist's skull cap. The salvo culminated w ith
his most cunning move. He Von Schlieffened me w ith a
w ithering exchange, his last lid, a dazzling chrome, Kaiser
W ilhelm , Old Blood and Iron, German spiked army helmet. I
rallied my side w ith a railroad engineer's cap, an aged oilskin
Sou'wester, a dashing Akubra, Imperial Q uality, Snowy
River felt, and a village idiot's jester hat, a one-two-three
punch that w ould have done honor to Bartholomew Cubbins.
Garrisoned, we prepare fo r our w inter offensive.
M itres, toques, caps, berets, rain hats, fedoras, bowlers,
beanies, sombreros, tam-o-shanters, birettas, bonnets,
chapeaux, where w ill it all end?
M ine Eyes Have Seen the Glory.... Gott M it Uns.
~~In those famous words o f Pogo, a possum who wore many
hats, "Yep, son, we have met the enemy and he is us."—
«i
Hippie- Love-Fest
P retty
By Nora Karina
Lucy Fooshee Lives!!
“ You headin' out to that Hippie-Love-Fest?” M y
neighbor was questioned as he sought directions to the Pig
Party This was my first visit to the annual end o f summer
bash Four days o f fun in the sun and m oonlight merriment It
was rest for weary bones and food for hungry souls M y
companions and 1 arrived late Saturday night and were greeted
by a h a lf dozen friendly folks who piled our gear into waiting
wheelbarrows and escorted us to our campsite
In the house, the drum circle pounded out enticing
rhythms To our left the pig-pit was blazing and another fire
by the creek heated stones fo r the sweat lodge T iki torches lit
the paths and yes, the h a lf moon
rising over the eastern hills really did bath everything in silver
light During the day, there was swimming, hiking, yoga, and
pranks The horseshoe pit saw bitter rivalries, and I don't even
want talk about the hum iliation suffered on the croquet lawn
Thanks to our brew-master, the beer flowed freely, and thanks
to an army o f fine cooks food was abundant Did you know
that Bloody Marys are the true 'breakfast o f champions'?
M ostly there were friends, old and new Back in
town we were shopkeepers, council members, teachers,
hairdressers, barkeepers, accountants, travel agents,
landscapers and even a few hippies In that magical place we
were stripped o f our titles and taken out o f everyday context
Together we drummed and danced, and drank (a lot!)
We woke Tuesday morning to horrendous news We
listened to the radio fo r details and wondered what would
happen next We were shocked, angry, confused and
frightened We were together and suddenly the time we spent
together seemed even more precious
Finally the time came to pack up and say goodbye
W ith the Beatles playing in the background and a bicycle still
in a tree, we headed home A ll my life 1 have wondered what
a Hippie-Love-Fest would be like Now I can only exhort my
dear readers to get themselves to one at the first opportunity
Get high and w ild Beat your breast and howl at the moon
Dance w ith w ild abandon Hug your loved ones and be kind
to the rest.
Pray and play together
Don't w ait till next year
“ He starts working his way down the counter with a
rag but I’m not watching him. He can tell by looking that I’m
not someone who wandered in o ff the streets. And when I
leave, Virgil w ill tell him about my beauty awards. He can see
for himself what I look like, but still it’s good to have everyone
else say it too, for proof.
I pick up a menu and start reading it. I read all
through the breakfast menu. Mostly Aunt Babe sells eggs for
breakfast. Eggs w ith toast. Eggs with biscuits. Eggs with
biscuits and gravy. Eggs in the snow and eggs in the nest. You
can get your eggs any way you want them. That’s what Aunt
Babe’s menu says. Scrambled, poached, fried, over easy, over
hard. Aunt Babe has listed all the possibilities right there on
her menu, in case you can’t th in k o f them yourself.”
These two paragraphs allowed me to see Lucy
Fooshee for the first time. You w ill find them on page two of
Alison Clement’s first novel. Pretty Is As Pretty Does
(MacAdam/Cage Publishing, $25.00 US).
Faithful readers w ill recall Alison. She has appeared
in these pages before w ith delightful stories o f the waitress
trade. The first tim e your beloved editor read her work, he sent
back an e-mail that said, “ Okay, I love you, now what?” I had
no idea. When, some tim e later, Alison e-mailed and said she
had a publisher and was up fo r some awards and sent the book,
w e ll... i f you have never been a publisher, which simply
means you printed someone else’s words, you have no idea how
it feels. To hold in your hand a book w ritten by someone that
you have worked w ith is amazing. When Michael’s first book
was in my hand, and even more, when Sally's book arrived, it
made my heart soar like an eagle. Upon receiving Alison’s
book I immediately began reading it, but life being what it is,
had to almost immediately put it down. When I found time to
pick it up again on my way to bed I was amazed to find that my
book mark was at chapter eight. It seemed like I had just read
a few pages. I decided to read a few more chapters before I
slept and at three in the morning I finished it.
1 find it d iffic u lt to separate myself as an editor and
publisher and friend o f the w rite r from this role as a reviewer,
or reader, if you w ill. But I won’t try to be objective. Alison
and her book have a bevy o f very positive reviews and what I
write w ill have little effect on their success. But as a one reader
to another, this is fun.
It is weird -- you start out not liking Lucy at all. She is
one o f those “ pretty” girls who has nothing but her looks. She
was lucky enough to be born cute and that’s all she’s got. U ntil
Billy shows up in her strange little town, and somehow all the
stupid things she has taken for granted no longer matter. The
fact that she was ju s t married to the ‘second richest farmer in
town’ doesn’t matter. Yes, this books has some naughty parts.
The fact that Billy is not “even white” doesn’t matter. What
matters is the difference between living and dying. Alison has
w ritten a novel about redemption through love; okay, lust at
the very least. Did I mention that it is a very funny book?
When I finished the book I began to pester Alison
about the movie. I had cast most o f the characters. Yes, this
book cries out to be a film . The roles are to die for. Lucy’s
husband Bob is not one-dimensional, there are no one
dimensional characters in this book. There are three actors I
can imagine in that role who could steal the movie. Billy is a
character Johnny Deep would pay to play. Aunt Janelle must
be played by Elizabeth Taylor so she can win an Oscar for best
supporting actress. The tough role is Lucy, o f course. Alison
managed to take her from a ‘pretty’ g irl to a beautiful woman in
her book. From someone you didn’t like to someone who you
would stand back to back w ith to the death. This is a character
who reminds this humble reader o f a cross between Scout in To
K ill a Mockingbird for her honesty and naivete and Scarlet
O’Hara in Gone w ith the W ind for her strength and tenacity.
And it is interesting that both o f those books spoke o f love and
racism. Alison sets her story a bit north in Illinois, but that is
because racism moved north in her lifetim e. One wonders
what actress could manage the role on the screen.
So, yep, I suggest you buy a copy and read it. It is
funny, sexy, powerful and damned meaningful. Alison has
found her voice, and i f you aren’t listening, it’s your own fa u lt
IN AN UNJUST WORLD...JUSTICE.
Personal Injury Lawyer
GREGORY KAFOL’RY
202 Oregon Pioneer Building
320 S.W. Shirk Street
Portland, OR 97704
Phone:
(50?) 224-2647
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