Happy Halloween!

The big u-turn has finally come, we've split with The City and are headed up the coast on this day of halloween spookery. San Fransisco was incredible (though it made for some challenging car camping - finding a parking spot in The City is an adventure in itself). This place was amazing, i'm not sure where to even begin.

We met up with local SF artist Gerard Livernois (portrait below) who is inspired to increase communication beyond language to enable a clearer understanding of human nature. His art currently focuses on "the most prominent object in the the Bay Area, Sutro Tower, colorfully re-creating this dismissed icon of communication". If you knew what's up, you'd know about the Biotic Baking Brigade and their infamous "pie-ings". Here's a fun fact: Gerard put a pie to former SF mayor Willie Brown's face.



We spent alot of time in the Mission District, which is easily my favorite part of The City - we scoped out on Clarion Alley. Full of creativity!



If it were any day but Halloween, we would post some more, but right now it's time to put on our costumes and catch up on some local spookery!

ESS EFF

We crossed the bridge two days ago - sorry for the lack of posts but we've been swamped with fun in Fog City.



I think we're headed to Oakland today. Mad stories and photos to come!

Q: How many hippies does it take to make a Volkswagen run?

A: Six! Three to push, one to drive, one to shoot photos, and one to dance and praise Gaia, Jerry Garcia, and Jah.


Yesterday while driving South on 101 we rounded a curve and saw fellow Vedubbers broken down on the side of the road. What luck! A touring family of elder hippies! These guys, Mama, Papa, Dieter-the-Mushroom-Eater, and Cheech (the dog) were the originals. They travel the country selling high-quality hemp jewelery and authentic tie-dye materials. We were lucky enough to help them fix a stuck ignition switch (though they still need push starts to get this 40 year old bus - appropriately named Janis - running down the road). For our efforts, Mango was gifted a tie-dye bandanna and a "Thank You Jerry" sticker.

In other slightly less-hippie news, we've been doing a lot of Sasquatch hunting amongst the redwoods in Humboldt and Mendocino Counties. No luck finding Squatch yet, though we did find below painting/screenprint by Jason and Jesse Pearson in the Accident Gallery in Eureka, CA. We spent a good deal of time along the Eel River, one of the few North-flowing rivers in the world.



We are currently in Fort Bragg, on the coast of California celebrating Elizabeth's birthday. We are headed South, coming in hot to Ess Eff! Check back soon for more posts.

Tuggin' Along

Driving along 101, we saw this old, half-sunken tugboat where the Rogue River meets the Pacific Ocean. When stopping to take pictures, we learned that this old boat had quite a history!

The Mary D. Hume was built in 1881 and served her first ten years as a coastal freighter that hauled wool, canned salmon and other goods to the ports of San Francisco from the northern coastal California towns. After that, she had a career as an arctic whaling vessel. She had a record for the biggest haul and holds the longest recorded whaling voyage of six full years. In 1909, Mary D. Hume was fitted as an ocean tugboat and happily tugged boats around for 60+ years. Her final retirement was the summer of 1978 where she sailed under her own power into the Port of Gold Beach and her final resting place was a within a few hundred feet of her birthplace. She still sits there today.

Jonah was daring enough to jump into the water for a quick swim. It was icy cold! Of course, Mango jumped right in after him and scared off the seals that were lurking nearby.

Crossing State Lines

We've made it to California!!!!!


It's sunny and warm!!!!!

Going Coastal!

We spent last night in North Bend falling asleep to the sound of fishing boats docking and the salt-talk of the local fishermen. The coast is beautiful, but both and Liz and I are soaked to the bone - one thing I've learned growing up in the Northwest is that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad rain gear. Yesterday, we stopped to play in the sand at the dunes just south of Florence, Or. where we were given a guided tour by our new friend, hippy-guitarist-extraordinaire, Adam.


We made a stop in Reedsport for some fun. We were cooking up some lunch when a very kind woman named Xoa stopped by on her bike and loaded us up with some food. Xoa volunteers for Meals on Wheels and hooked us up with all the leftovers! Mmmm... Peach Cobbler!




Next Stop: South!

Food Not Bombs: Portland

I really hate to post about things that are miles behind us, but I just got done uploading some long-overdue photographs from Portland.

We ate dinner for free every night in Portland thanks to the wonderful Food Not Bombs people. Most people are familiar with Food Not Bombs because of participating with finding food, cooking food, or eating food. But if you're not familiar with the idea, Food Not Bombs is a revolutionary, grassroots movement that shares free vegetarian or vegan food with hungry people while protesting food and poverty. Each group recovers food that would otherwise be thrown out and makes fresh hot vegan and vegetarian meals that are served outside in public spaces to anyone without restriction. Each chapter is autonomous, as it is a non-hierarchical dis-organization. There are no leaders, just people working together to feed whoever needs to be fed! There are chapters everywhere, active in the Americas, Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia and Australia. Look up your closest Food Not Bombs group and participate!

In Portland, we hung out with a group of travel kids, local anarchists and musicians in Colonel Summers Park, waiting for the Food Not Bombs bikes to arrive with the grub around 5:30. Our tummies were super grateful for those who looked for and cooked the food! Thanks FNB!

Eugene!

We spent some time on the OSU campus in the Folklore Archives. Liz researched traditional quilting and some Oregonian personalities - while my research was concentrated on tales of the Wild-Man of the Cascades, better known as Sasquatch. We're looking to do some more Squatch hunting in the near future.

This is our new friend Frog. If you're interested in expanding your joke vocabulary, Frog has some literature well worth adding to your library. Mail him three dollars and a self-addressed envelope - P.O. Box 10162, Eugene OR 97440


...We're off to the coast!

Stumptown, Oregon: A Brief HIstory of A Name

Portland, Oregon is located in Multnomah County along the Willamette River. Portland was once called Stumptown, a reference to the pillage of the many trees by Oregon Trail emigrants when they started to build houses in the area. In 1845, Francis Pettygrove and A.L. Lovejoy (both East Coast emigrants, one from Boston and one from Portland, ME) decided that Stumptown, or "The Clearing," needed a new name. They decided to flip a penny to determine what Stumptown's new name would be: Portland or Boston (they both must have been a little homesick.) During that time, Portland's many stumps were not usually a problem. I imagine a lot of them made for very nice outdoor seating. However, when the Willamette River flooded in the early 1860's and the people of Portland had to row across town to get to work, the submerged stumps became annoying obstacles. After the flood, the city merchants decided to clear away all the stumps... and Stumptown was history.

CONTEST! 

Portland has been called many names: Stumptown, P-town, The Rose City, PDX, Bridgetown, Rip City, Little Beirut.. etc. We've got a little Jam-Hunt package to send to the first commenter with another nickname for Portland, Oregon. But you've gotta tell us the origin of the nickname! Good luck!

Tomorrow.. on to Eugene! 

We've made it to PORTLAND

My favorite thing about any city is its graffiti. I love the systems that move graffiti artists across the globe - I love finding the same writers in different cities, it's like I can follow their story as I make my own. I love the illegality of graffiti, I'm always perplexed at how any form of creativity could be illegal - and thrive while so viciously hounded by authorities and condemned by the majority of society.

The graffiti in Portland is sick.


Here's a photo I shot on the way out of Olympia at the Free Wall. Every wall should be a "free wall".

Surf Seattle

We are way over 150 miles away from Seattle now, but I thought I'd share this poster off the wall at Old School Pizzeria in Olympia.


The weather is changing and it's starting to feel like the northwest again.

ART YARD

Yesterday, Liz and I were given a most wonderful tour of Richart’s “Art Yard” in the modest town of Centralia, WA. We stopped not knowing what to expect – what we found was absolutely rad.

Signs in the front yard invited us in – we helped ourselves to the marvels of his outdoor sculpture creations. My imagination whirled, I saw space-robots, great knight’s graveyards, and was swimming a thousand miles under the ocean. Richart’s sculptures thrust me into the creative mindset I remember having when I was 9 – I was having the daydreams that only a child could have.

Around the corner came Richart, a 76 year-old former high school art teacher, more than happy to show us his creations. He and his small pudgy dog gave us a tour of his yard. We followed him as he brought us to a cathedral, into a coliseum (explaining that no town could be on a map without one), and introduced us to a sculpture of a hairy-chested woman. How did this all start, we asked, where did this come from? “I was 50 years old, I had all these degrees, but they didn’t mean anything until I told myself I would be an artist. So the next day I woke up, and I was an artist.” It’s as easy as that, he explained, you just say it and its there if you want it – “you give it a word, and that gives it meaning.”

This stop on our trip, has for me, been the most personally inspiring thing encountered so far. Who knew 2x4’s, Styrofoam, twisted rebar, and whatever else Richart gets his hands on, could provoke such wonder! Wake up tomorrow and be what you want to be.

The Resurrection of Wesley Everest

Two days ago, Jonah and I watched a film entitled, "Lewis County: Hope and Struggle"made by my old professor, Anne Fischel, about the Wobbly wars in Centralia, Washington.

The Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), also known as the Wobblies is a radical, labor organization that fights to improve the living standards of the working class. The IWW had set up an office in Centralia, Washington to organize the labor forces, specifically focusing on the logging industry. Their office was first attacked and destroyed during a Memorial Day Parade in 1918, where IWW members and workers were beaten and told to leave Centralia. However, the Wobblies were determined to stay and continue organizing and were able to open a new office. The next year, during the Armistice Day parade, the IWW office was attacked again, but this time the Wobblies were prepared to defend their rights and property. Four men who were under the American Legion were shot and killed by the IWW members as they tried to attack the office. Wesley Everest, who was one of the armed IWW members defending his property, ran out of the building as he was chased by a mob. He shot and killed one attacker before being caught, beaten and dragged by the neck to the jail. Later that night, all power went out in Centralia and in the dark of the night, Everest was taken from jail and by vigilantes and hung by the neck from a bridge (now known as Hangman’s Bridge). Everest was castrated and his body was shot twenty times and then left hanging. The body was left here into the next morning, where young children had to walk by it to get to school. Later on, his body was thrown back into the jail for the other jailed Wobblies to observe for two days. Local officials refused to bury Everest, wanting nothing to do with him, so the task fell on four prisoners to carry his body to the graveyard where they had to bury Everest in an unmarked grave in the pauper’s section while the National Guard was watching. The other Wobblies that were jailed were accused of murder and put through an unjust trial that consisted of lies, intimidation of witnesses and suppression of evidence. There are later reports from the jury saying that their guilty-verdict was a mistake, but that there was so much pressure on them that there could not have been any other verdict besides guilty.

This story is just one side of the whole picture. For many who grew up in the region, all of the blame of the massacre is placed on the Wobblies, rather than the Legionnaires. I wanted to tell the side of the story that had been suppressed throughout history, one that you would not know until digging a little deeper. In the center of Centralia, in front of the public library, there is a square that has a “Freedom Walk” that memorializes the four Legionnaires that died that day in 1919. Nowhere is there any information about the Wobblies, their side of the story remains untold. However, in 1997, a mural entitled, “The Resurrection of Wesley Everest” was designed and painted by Mike Alewitz, a member of the IWW, with the help from members of the community. The mural is located on top of a building that looks over the “Freedom Walk.” Finally, both stories are told. We were allowed up on top of the building to take a closer look.

jam jars

Spent the other day in the sun labeling the rest of our jam.




Can't wait to share these jars of deliciousness!!!

Only in Oly

We've made it to the capital city - home of clearwater, golden beer, and good friends.

The Old, Weird America at the Frye

I’m standing in front of an Aaron Morse painting entitled “The Good Hunt (#2).” A man with a large rifle in his hand is proudly posed on top of a mountain of brightly colored animal carcasses. In fact, saying that the animals were brightly colored is an understatement; they looked like Easter pastel puke. The painting is unsettling, mainly because of the man’s eyes. They are possessed; they are empty and bright, unable to truly see the result of his barbarous act. The image in front of me is unsettling and vulgar and I feel a bit scared by it. I hear a loud noise behind me, the sound of turning motors. Turning around to see what it is, I am instantly frightened by Cynthia Norton's (aka Ninnie) installation. Four red and white checkered dresses, with puffy sleeves and crinoline skirts that are attached to what looks like an altered umbrella clothesline are pirouetting in a square formation, conjuring up a phantom shaker dance. Dancing was extremely important in Shaker worship; it added a greater dimension to the expression of prayer. They believed the whole of one’s body should be dedicated to the praise of God, not just the tongue and vocal cords. The dancing was due to a direct operation of the Holy Spirit; the spinning motion was completely an inspirational dance. These dresses are spooky, they look like ghosts dancing, endlessly spinning in the air. I can’t help but imagine what the women looked like who wore dresses exactly similar to the ones before me, and I am immediately haunted by my awareness of them. I can see them perfectly before me, propelling themselves in circles by moving one foot around the other. 

The exhibit, “The Old, Weird America” at Seattle’s Frye Museum explores the traditional folklore that we Americans have buried in our minds. Civil war veterans, campfire stories, cowboys, founding fathers, quirky road signs, old movie posters and the rest of the hidden history that is often left out of the traditional American history textbooks inspire the show. The art tells a different story, one that you won’t find in the mainstream. One of the best examples of America’s double-sided history is addressed in Sam Durant’s installation, “Pilgrims and Indians, Planting and Reaping, Learning and Teaching.” On a slowly rotating divided circular platform using displays and wax figures that Durant purchased from the now closed Plymouth National Wax Museum in Massachusetts, the installation tells the two stories of Thanksgiving. On one side is the famed and believed story of how Native Americans happily taught the settlers how to grow corn by fertilizing it with herring- a smart tip that lead to a bountiful harvest and a full feast that was enjoyed by both the settlers and the Native Americans. On the other side, Capitan Mile Standish is killing a Pequot man, Pecksuot. The man Pecksuot had challenged the Capitan and the Capitan lashed back, killing Pecksuot. Still in an act of rage, Standish led a raiding party to kill the Pequots. This raiding led to the deaths of over 1,500 Pequot Indians. When the massacre was over and their mission was a great success, a feast of thanks, a day of Thanksgiving was declared. How about that for an alternative history?!?!

I strongly recommend checking out this exhibition at the Frye if you can and go beyond what you think you know. There are still a lot of stories waiting to be told.

El Centro De La Raza

I speak for both us (Mango not included) when I say that El Centro De La Raza, which roughly translates to "The Center for People of All Races", was one of the most fascinating and interesting places we visited in Seattle.

In 1972, The Seattle Public School District was ready to demolish an abandoned elementary school when activists, including church organizations and children, peacefully entered and occupied the building. The three month occupation resulted in victory and the building was leased to El Centro De La Raza for one dollar a year. In later years, after a lot of fundraising efforts, El Centro was able to buy the building outright.

For 37 years El Centro has served and empowered all sections of the community, regardless of race, sex, financial status, or any other difference. El Centro has been dedicated in the fight against the inequalities and injustices of our world by building community.

El Centro offers broad, effective services and advocacy: they provide Education and Skill Building Programs - which empower and provide the community with self-sufficiency and Human and Emergency Services - which address immediate needs of the members of the community including healthcare, hunger, and homelessness. El Centro also invests in the future and community by providing an array of Child and Youth Programs.

We were lucky enough to be able to check out El Centro and join them for breakfast and coffee. We were able to meet the people that ran El Centro, the people that volunteered there and the people that wanted to get involved. After breakfast, we toured the building. On one of the stairwells of the building was a wall called, "Elders of Our Community," which had pictures and quotations from the senior figures that were important to the people at El Centro. What a great way to celebrate your community! At 8:45 in the morning there was a long line ready to enter the Food Bank that is open on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday of each week and we recognized some of the people who were on that wall, inside, helping to organize food. El Centro truly serves it's community.

Some of the students of El Centro. So Cute!


A mural painted by Daniel DeSiga during the occupation of El Centro, without lights, electricity, or running water. The mural was restored on their 25th anniversary of El Centro. Originally, the mural had men's faces, but they were changed to women's faces during the restoration because DeSiga wanted to depict the strong female leadership of El Centro.

We would love to spend more time at El Centro de La Raza and meet more of the people that are contributing to this community.

World's Best Dishwasher

I hate pictures of other people's dogs, I guess it's different when it's yours.


Stay tuned for photos from Seattle.