Under a Red Roof

Everlasting Moments

May 15, 2009 in Remembering, Spotlighting, Watching by Colleen | 1 comment

When I was little, the first camera I had was a Kodak Pocket Instamatic. I liked the feel of it in my hand and the power associated with it – this moment will be mine, not only in memory, but as something tangible, for as long as I have the photograph. I remember being so excited to take pictures – there was a distinct thrill in finding a certain light or subject, winding the film, putting my eye to the view finder, and hearing the very sharp click of the shutter. I took a picture! Twelve photos later and I was ready to drop them off at Target, wait another week, and then see the results.

Sometimes they were disappointing – a finger or a blurred image marring what I thought was the perfect composition, but most of the time they were exactly how I remembered the scene to be: my cat Tasha licking her paw, the glorious Royal Gorge Bridge, or the beautiful and prolific sweet pea blooms in our neighbor Helen’s yard. I guess not much has changed, actually. I still get the same thrill when I snap photos now, only I get the instant gratification of seeing my work on the tiny digital screen of my camera.

It is this same thrill that echoes throughout the superb Swedish film from Jan Troell, Everlasting Moments. The story follows Maria, her husband, friends, and children with the same careful attention one pays in capturing the singular moments of life. From her first photograph to her last, we watch this woman grow in maturity, wisdom, and age, all the while taking photos of the mundane to the sacred. No matter what is on the other side of the lens, beyond her eye, she treats it with the delicacy and wonder of a rare object.

However, I would be remiss if I led you to believe this is a film about photography. It certainly is that, but it is really so much more, too. It is about the joys of living, the ways we love, fidelity, sacrifice, loss, and a changing world. I think, oddly enough, what I found most striking was the way everyday sounds, like birdsong, the fluttering of leaves in the trees, even children’s laughter, were incorporated into the story, like a heart beating in time.

A Cascade of Memories

April 1, 2009 in Being, Receiving, Remembering by Colleen | 1 comment

Yesterday at Nia class, my instructor Margaret mentioned Silver Falls State park here in Oregon, and with it came a cascade of memories for me.

The spring after we first moved here, one of Greg’s colleagues participated in an exchange with someone from Daimler-Chrysler to further the relationship between companies. Ron went off to Germany and Hans came here.

I think, quite possibly, he was the best gift we had in that first year. We’d had a rough start with the house (the furnace and oven breaking, plumbing problems, etc.) and I couldn’t find work as a teacher (a long standing trend!). One night, after a particularly bad day, we had Hans over for dinner, and his presence was like a light shining down on us – warm, friendly, and entirely good. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Hans became a near constant companion. We did every manner of activity together. We explored the McMenamin’s kindgom, had downtown adventures, threw parties, went hiking, took in movies, enjoyed great conversations, the works.

But these memories are the ones I hold dearest to my heart, for they are the most “Hans”:

Hans dressed in what I consider a pretty typical German fashion. Stylish with a dash of kookiness. He loved character socks. He once wore his favorite pair, Popeye, with sandals, to the waterfront for the Rose Festival. Also, he’d never owned a dryer before, and the one in his apartment was like a revelation. “Did you know it can dry pants in only half an hour?” Um yeah, but for every half an hour, you seem to lose a quarter of an inch in length, Hans. No matter. He was the happiest guy in high waters and Popeye socks. Definitely.

Hans always wore a button down shirt, always. In his left breast pocket he kept a small spiral notebook and pencil for new words and phrases. Often times, he would bring out the notebook for us to help him with something particularly unusual that he couldn’t suss out with his dictionary. The best was when he learned “spam sucking trailer trash” and “son of a bitch,” and in a rather serious tone, asked the G-Man and I: “Which is more worser?” The two of us nearly died with laughter, explaining that it really depends on the audience.

Hans was a master at cards. He could figure out any game in a matter of minutes and play joyously for hours. In particular, I loved to watch him shuffle. I have only recently become even remotely efficient at shuffling. I can’t really say why. I used to think it was my hands being small, but then we met Sandeep, and despite his fingers being a full inch shorter than mine, he was like a dealer in Vegas. Amazing. Anyway, Hans had this curious way of doing it, basically mixing up the stack, not actually shuffling. It was crazy how quick and efficient he was at it. You’d never imagine it would work, but it did.

Finally, the memory that started this all. On one of our many adventures, we went to Silver Falls State Park for a hike. It was a cold day, a bit drizzly, but exceedingly beautiful. The water was high and the falls in their full splendor, loudly crashing into the river below. As we hiked, we took a path that was further from the falls, deeper into the forest. Imagine the quintessential Oregon forest – redolent with the scent of clean air and earth, full of moss, ferns, evergreens, and the lacy branches of deciduous trees clamoring for the sun. We were happily chatting and walking when Hans suddenly stopped. I kept speaking for a moment then realized what it was about. Silence. A void of sound of the most profound variety, like none I have experienced since. For a full five minutes we stood in utter stillness and wonder that the world could be so beautiful and quiet and we could be so privileged to share in it.

There are many other wonderful memories of Hans, as well, and sometimes, when I need a little pick-me-up, I gently unpack one and smile that such a wonderful man came into my life all those years ago. Life is good.

By the way, I could not find the picture from that day, so this one has to suffice. The day was cloudier, but the landscape quite similar…

Eighteen

February 9, 2009 in Loving, Quoting, Remembering by Colleen | 2 comments

On this eighteenth anniversary of our very first date, these words seem most appropriate:

Unto us, all our days are love’s anniversaries, each one

In turn hath ripened something of our happiness.

Robert Bridges

Four-Four

February 2, 2009 in Remembering, Traveling by Colleen | 1 comment

I was tagged by my friend Amber to post the fourth photo in the fourth folder of my collection. This is not actually in the fourth folder, but the sixth, because the other fourths were photos I had already posted on the blog, and redundancy is such a drag, you know? You know? Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

Anyway, this is me outside the Centre Pompidou in Paris about a year and a half ago. Something about the lighting makes my head look like a giant melon, don’t you think? That’s not the only funny bit to this photo, well not to the photo, but to the general story of the day.

This is our first day in Paris, having arrived only a few hours earlier. We were doing our best to stay awake. At this point we’d been up for about twenty-eight hours, and as we are neither in college, nor rock stars, this does not come easily. However, I felt like, this time, I was going to be able to make the whole day without napping. This time, I shall beat jet lag!

Then we entered the museum, and with the hush of the people and all of the marvelous works of art, the cadence changed. Rather than experiencing the energetic buzz of the city, people moving, cars honking, scooters swerving, we felt the profound quiet of great art and architecture. We became part of the ebb and flow of the museum, yet found ourselves set wholly apart from it. The onset of fatigue was so potent that it set off a crazy chain of events. First, we swayed like drunkards, no matter how carefully we tried to walk – left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Colleen laughs as quietly as she can, Gregory laughs quietly at Colleen laughing, museum-goers give sideways glances at the crazy Americans who should have respect for work that is neither silly or funny. More laughter from Colleen, then Gregory…and well, you know the rest.

Finally, after we had seen everything we had wanted to see, interspersed with lots of breaks on benches to compose ourselves, we waved our white flags in utter defeat. Jet lag won again. We slowly walked back to our apartment, climbed the stairs, and collapsed on the bed, sleeping for four hours.

Don’t Change

January 30, 2009 in Listening, Remembering, Spotlighting by Colleen | 1 comment

Isn’t this a beautiful cover? When I first saw it, mind you, this was on a cassette tape, so the image wasn’t terribly large, I thought it was a photograph of an exquisite sculpture. Only upon further inspection did I learn man and canine were made of flesh and bone. I find it both incredibly sexy and tender at the same time. The man has beautiful shoulders and arms, and the dog – a Greyhound or Whippet? is awfully sweet and poised, paws balanced just so. Definitely on my top ten list for album covers. Yes, definitely.

In keeping with yesterday’s post, I thought I would give a full blown Spotlight on this, my favorite INXS album. I first heard “The One Thing” and “To Look at You” when I watched Reckless with Aidan Quinn and Darryl Hannah way back in 1984. Save these two songs, and especially “The One Thing,” I have no recollection of the film, but the music is enough for me.

I know that taste in music is highly subjective, but I really feel like this is a timeless classic. While it does bring back many memories, the music never seems dated to me. INXS never went over the top with gimmicks or synthesizers, so there are no Flock of Seagull moments while listening to it. Not that the FOS were bad, but when you listen to them now, you know they are an 80’s band.

One of the finest and exceedingly rare occurrences in music is to have an album where every song is a gem. Shabooh Shoobah is one such example. It starts with “The One Thing” and keeps up the pace with clever lyrics, Michael’s very sexy, sometimes tender, and powerful voice, and ends with the crescendo “Don’t Change.” It is really difficult for me to choose favorites because I have a really hard time hearing the end of one song without longing for the next, so I will tell you my favorite lines from each song:

“The One Thing” – The way you move soft and slippery, cut the night just like a razor, rarely talk and that’s the danger.

“To Look at You” – I understand, I sympathize for a day dream, fairy tales and I love you

“Spy of Love” – Standing above this moment, listening to all I say, the spy of love will track me, will catch me.

“Soul Mistake” – Promises are carved out of lust, with a fire in the heart, that burns without regret, I vow to play the part.

“Here Comes” – Here comes my kamikaze, here comes God’s top ten.

“Black and White” – Got a need inside and I don’t know why, it’s a strong feeling that grows and grows.

“Golden Playpen” – Night club, ice cubes crackin’

“Jan’s Song” – Friends won’t argue, friends don’t care, now is the moment to get out of here.

“Old World New World” -Natives wearing turquoise and silver, dirty dogs barking in the distance, ooh people of a thousand tongues, I’m learning the primitive rites.

“Don’t Change” – Don’t change for you, don’t change a thing for me.

Oh my goodness, twenty-five years later and I still love it!

Tags: Music