TWO QUESTIONS

This week brought up two questions about life. What can I be so that I will be remembered with fondness? And how do we make a marriage last a long time?

Someone I know died unexpectedly recently from an aggressive cancer and treatment. The outpouring of shock from friends has been wonderful and sad to read. She was one of those larger-than-life personalities who gave freely of her time and attention. The expression of shock and love is heartening to read, but bittersweet that she will not read the words herself.

I first met her at a calligraphy workship in 2016. She was originally from New Jersey and still carried that familiar accent when she spoke. She showed both her humor and interest in other people when she  connected with each person in a room. Since her passing, the two words I hear most frequently about her was her kindness and her cookies. She would bring food to every function and was well-known for her imaginative designs on cookies. Though it is sad to lose her so early in her life, I thought about how well-remembered she will be. Then, I thought about how we all would like to be remembered. There are some people I know who have passed away with a large community honoring them for their character and love of others. There are others who pass like a whisper in the wind. And some who aren't remembered with much love at all. She was one with a large community of friends.

Question Two:

Bill and I walked along Folsom Street recently, near the Embarcadero, an area in San Francisco populated by young, earnest people who chose university studies that allowed them to graduate into jobs with starting salaries that are more than I ever made as a junior high school teacher. They are the new affluent of their generation. They tend to walk in groups in conversation using a vocabulary that is not familiar to me. 

At a stop light at Beale and Folsom, two young men came up beside us, one saying to the other, "We're all super smart..." I could not help but turn my head to see who spoke. He caught my eye as we smiled at each other. Then as we waited for the light, he said, "My friend and I are making a dating video. We have about a hundred applicants with more on a waiting list. We are looking for people who have been married for many years to give advise to the people on the show about how to stay married for a long time. Would you be willing...?"

Bill and I have an impulsive streak and often say, "Yes," to an invitation such as this before thinking things through. This time we rolled our eyes, shook our heads, and said, "No, we don't think so," They pleaded, "Oh, say yes, you two would be perfect. It will be fun." We shook our heads and they waved as they started across the street, hurrying on their way to their best life.

I have been thinking about those to incidents all week. What kind of person can I be so that people remember me with love instead of bitterness or regret? What makes a marriage work over a long time?

What is your answer?

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Check out this essay about AI by Janine Vanpool the Editor of "Uppercase" magazine, a magazine for the creative and curious. A good, thoughtful read. She explains about the effect AI is having on creativity and design practices:

https://uppercase.kit.com/posts/261013

WISH YOU WERE HERE

Fall is slipping into San Francisco, which means we are getting our one chance of really hot weather. That doesn't stop the leaves from turning colors, but for people who love summer, this is a favorite time of year. If you are one of those, maybe you wish for one last day at the beach, or another week at the lake, or even a trip to sunny Tunnel Tops in the Presidio. This period is a time for nostalgia, of memories of good times. We used to call this time Indian Summer. MPRNews, the Minnesota public broadcasting station, explained the possible origins of the name, including references to the prairie fires set by Native Tribes in the fall. This Monday is Indegenous Peoples Day. We've understood that we need to honor the people who came before us with this memorial day. We used the name "Indian" so carelessly in our history, do we also need to find a better name for this time of year?

"Wish You Were Here at the Lake"

Bill and I took the train to Palo Alto late in the day last Friday for the opening reception of Pacific Art League's postcard exhibition. The league had accepted four of my postcards and we wanted to see how the creative minds from PAL displayed the small works by over 100 artists.

"Wish You Were Here at the Beach"

With three of the postcards, I used a cartoonish style to represent nostalgic times when we spent a week each summer at a lake in Minnesota while our son was growing up. This trio of cards is reminiscent of the one from the lake resort that I sent to my sister every year. Rather than sending a card showing new discoveries in Minnesota each year, I wanted to cement the idea of returning to a familiar place again and again. The original postcard showed the view of Lake Florida's beach with the Dickerson's Resort cabins strung like candy along the grassy area leading to the beach. I tried to capture with the trio of postcards some of the remembrance of a perfect summer vacation, of the faded Photochrome postcards that we received or sent, and of times gone by.

"Wish You Were Here at Tunnel Tops"

I was surprised that the league took all four of my postcards since the last postcard was a stand-alone card that offered the idea that "From One Seed a Forest Grows." It doesn't have the same nostaglic feel as the other three, but it is a reminder that little ideas can grow into movements. An idea that all of us can relate to.

"One Seed Makes the Forest Grow"

Postcard Exhibition at the Pacific Arts League Gallery, Palo Alto, CA

After we wandered through the gallery and took photos of the event and of my postcards pinned to the walls, we walked out into the early evening light, the autumn light that produces long shadows and deep colors. With the heat wave, the evening allowed us to sit outside for dinner. As we ate, the light darkened, and the sparkly strings of lights came on at all the restaurants in the blocked-off street. The outdoor seating along the street was lined with flowering geraniums. We felt we were back in Paris except that we didn't hear the piano concerts we often heard from the Cote d'Ivoire embassy at the end of our street. Last Friday was a perfect postcard night.

rue de Lasteyrie, Paris, France

Poster for the PAL postcard exhibition by Nan Wang

       

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Check out the story behind the name Indian Summer here:

https://www.mprnews.org/story/2017/10/12/a-new-name-for-indian-summer 

Check out the Smithsonian's postcard history here:

https://siarchives.si.edu/history/featured-topics/postcard/postcard-history

Check out a lake resort experience at Dickerson's Lake Florida Resort:

https://www.willmarlakesarea.com/listings/dickersons-lake-florida-resort/

TIME FLIER

Last week I spent two days in an all-day calligraphy workshop and another day celebrating the last Giants baseball game of the year. The Giants weren't so giant this year. Due to injuries, the team fielded a group of rookies who faced the Dodgers, their longtime rivals, who are a powerhouse of baseball pros. The rookies thrilled us by keeping the last three games close, often almost winning, while giving us a chance to see the rookies test their limits and chances for next year. I remember reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's book, "Wait Till Next Year," a memoir of her family's love of baseball, which included those two baseball rivals that we watched, who were at the time of the book both based in New York. I could relate to her story because my dad let us watch baseball games on TV, and set up a makeshift diamond in our backyard. It was easy there to hit one out of the park since the balls went into our close neighbor's yard.

Bill and I share a love of the game, and we think of all the phrases that come up in casual speech that originated with baseball:

Cover your bases

Throw someone a curve ball

Step up to the plate and

A whole new ball game

After the workshop and the baseball game, I came home to my worktable. And stared. Somehow the area had become completely covered in my absence as if three thousand little minions had scrambled my work-in-progress all over the tabletop. How could missing just three days of attention let things go so array? Yesterday afternoon, while I was still feeling the creative inspiration from the workshop, I plopped my art journal on top of the stack of papers and precariously worked on a page, the paper tipping towards the floor as I put pen to paper. I didn't bother to unload what was under the journal, instead, I just kept working till I got to the bottom of the journal page when that workshop-inspired creative juice ran out, leaving me feeling doubt creeping in. The last small rectangle didn't work the way I wanted, so I will cut out a piece of paper and glue over it.

I don't usually get writer's block, the mental stoppage that prevents both writers and artists from moving ahead with whatever they are working on. Both types of creatives can stare at a blank white paper in front of them. I tend towards the opposite direction with too many ideas rushing out at once so that I find it hard to finish any one thing. If I do get stuck, I pull out my sketchbook and start doodling, something I have done all my life through meetings, classes, and waiting times. Usually, those random doodles help me get past any doubts and re-awaken inspiration. I don't have to "wait till next year" to step up to the plate. It gives me a chance at a whole new ballgame.

My normal workspace

Check out the A to Z  baseball idioms list from Wikipedia:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_English-language_idioms_derived_from_baseball 

Yes, I still use Wikipedia. Another one of my small rebellions, like choosing Lyft over Waymo, the driverless cars. I don't plan to use them until all cars are driverless and people aren't depending on ride share driving to earn a living. Wikipedia is produced by human information, and, unlike AI, isn't snatching the work of artists and writers without compensation.

Window View September 2026