Culture and Customs
Remembering Barb
Jul 11th
Just three months ago in my blog, I shared my memories of my cruise in the Mediterranean last spring with my sister-in-law, Barb. Less than two weeks before I wrote that piece, Barb had been diagnosed with lung cancer which had rapidly spread throughout her body; and the day after the blog was published, Barbara Ann passed away. She was the first in our family of my generation (siblings, cousins and spouses) to die, and I know I am not alone among us in still processing that fact and coming to terms with the idea that I will not be sharing another wonderful trip or girls’ weekend with her.
Barb was warm, generous, kind-hearted and full of fun in life, and her husband Glenn wanted to be sure that any sort of memorial service for her reflected her spirit. Neither of them liked traditional funerals, so my brother knew what Barb’s service should NOT be like. He waited until the initial shock at her passing had passed and the calendar was more amenable to travel. He then sent out a notice that on July 10 there would be a gathering in a park near their home. He recalled how much Barb, a Southern California native, had loved the crowds of evergreens on the hills of her adopted home in the Pacific Northwest. He asked that those who were able plant a tree in Barb’s memory and attend the gathering if they could.
Yesterday a whole bunch of Barb’s loved ones — family and friends going back to her childhood and from near and far — gathered at that park and shared memories and stories of her. There was no speech-giving or song-singing, and prayers were of the silent kind between each individual and his God. Instead, it was so like Barbara’s favorite kind of get-together, where everyone mingled and caught up with everyone else while the kids played on the swings and jungle gym. Cousins who hadn’t seen each other in a dozen years or more hugged and exclaimed over how big the children had grown and how good it was to reconnect again. Far from being a solemn occasion, this one boasted much laughter; and off to one side was a large bulletin board on which Glenn posted pictures of some of the trees planted for Barb along with pictures of her from throughout her life (including several from that cruise we shared the year before) and those dearest to her — particularly grandson Gavin.
Later, a smaller group of us gathered at my brother’s home and shared more time together while we sipped Barb’s favorite libation, lemon drops. As the day drew to a close, each of us prepared to head for home or overnight accomodations. Hugs were exchanged and plans made to see each other again soon, call or write. Glenn seemed so pleased that the day had been everything he had hoped it would be and none of what neither he nor Barb didn’t want. It was, just like our dear one, full of life, love and laughter, and a true celebration of her spirit that all of us continue to carry with us.
– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor
Happy Fourth!
Jul 3rd
My husband and I are looking forward to spending our first Fourth of July in our new home town, Central Point, Ore. Most years find us celebrating the Fourth in Portland, where we both grew up and still have plenty of family on both sides. We would start at Harry’s mom’s in the morning, where the annual neighborhood parade is composed primarily of kids on their tricked-out red-white-and-blue bicycles, trikes and wagons; patriotically bandana-ed pooches escorted by proud owners; and Boy and Girl Scout troops. Then there’s a family barbecue at someone’s house, and we finish the evening with our winetasting friends at a home high in the Portland West Hills with views of two or three major fireworks displays.
However, we felt like we really wanted to get the flavor of the holiday here at home this year, so we’re staying put. The morning will start with a pancake breakfast hosted by the Boy Scouts at the Grange Hall. Shortly thereafter the parade will begin with a fighter jet flyover and singing of the National Anthem. I anticipate that, as I always do at these community parades, I’ll get a bit choked up as the color guard of veterans and currently serving military personnel marches by. I’m touched by the generations who left all the familiarity and comfort of their small home towns to serve and sacrifice for the rest of us.
After the parade there will be games and vendors and food at the park, along with live music all afternoon long. It promises to be a warm and sunny day, so we may work in a brief siesta at home before we barbecue some burgers and cook up some homemade fries for dinner. Then it’s off to Harry & David Field for the largest fireworks display in the valley. The gates open hours before dusk, but we’re hoping that there’ll still be a spot for our blanket when we arrive around 8:30 or so. Live music will again be offered until the fireworks begin close to 10 pm. I’m still a big kid when it comes to being enthralled by those enormous blooms of color and light straight up over my head in the night sky — hands down the best part of a small-town Fourth of July celebration.
I hope you have a grand and wonderful Fourth, and please remember to stand and doff your hat when that color guard marches by.
– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor
Visit with an Artist
Jun 13th
One of my favorite experiences from my trip to New Zealand in April was the chance to meet and talk with Maori artist Blaine Te Rito. As we drove to Blaine’s home-based studio in an Auckland suburb, our guide and Potiki Tours co-founder Melissa Crockett told us how she came to meet Blaine and what a great ambassador for New Zealand and traditional Maori art and culture he is . . . as we would soon see for ourselves. She also explained that Blaine has a full facial moko (tattoo) that he would be happy to explain and be photographed. And, just before we arrived at his home, Melissa explained that we would also be greeted with the hongi, a traditional Maori greeting in which two individuals press their noses together, forehead to forehead. She gave us a few pointers: no rubbing noses, just a brief touch which may be accompanied by a handshake.
Blaine is one of those people who can immediately put anyone at ease, and although he explained he had injured his back earlier and was in some pain, one wouldn’t have known it by his frequent, booming laughter and his willingness to chat with us on his deck for an hour or so. He started by explaining to us the meaning behind the hongi (it is an exchange and intermingling of the breath of life in each of us) and some of the creation stories of the Maori and Polynesian cultures.
Blaine’s primary medium is wood, and he has been carving since he received his first set of tools from his father at Christmas when he was 10. His training in traditional carving began when he was 15, but he said he really has only been supporting himself with his art full time in the past five or six years. He travels the world on behalf of the New Zealand arts board exhibiting, teaching and taking part in indigenous art workshops. He has completed commissioned pieces for private and public collections alike, and the samples of his work which he shared with us (a mask with a full moko and the prow of a war canoe) were wonderfully wrought and intricate in detail. When he creates a piece for an individual, he learns as much as he can about that person’s background and family, because the art will contain symbols and stylized designs which refer to that information. He says, “Every piece begins with a story; I always start with a story.”
Blaine shared with us a bit of his own story and how he came to have his moko. The practice had nearly died out (missionaries discouraged the practice, and because originally the designs were actually chiseled into the skin, there were problems with infections and hygiene) until a revival began over the last 20 years. Blaine explained that because the practice had been co-opted by some young men in gangs, there is still some stigma attached to the tattoos, but not just anyone can receive a moko from “the masters” — the traditional artists. Tribal elders must give their permission, and Blaine indicated that he also sought the approval of several of his family members. A proper moko is designed to “fit” the individual’s features, and the pattern is determined by one’s life story and ancestors. The left side represents one’s mother’s ancestry while the right represents the father’s, and patterns flowing from the nostrils (again, the breath of life) represent one’s children. While women may have their chins and occasionally their foreheads tattooed, only men can have the full facial tattoo.
All too soon we had to take our leave, and after once again sharing a hongi with each of us, Blaine bid us “Haere ra” (literally, “Go!”). Looking back on that afternoon, I realize that while his moko was at first very striking, my memories of Blaine are more clearly now of his wide smile, infectious laughter and generous nature. As I have found so often true of my travels, while New Zealand and Auckland were beautiful and enchanting, encounters with individuals like Blaine Te Rito will be my most treasured memories.
– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editorÂ
Exploring the City of Sails
May 8th
Our first full day in Auckland (and it was a very full day) began with a morning exploration of the Auckland War Memorial Museum. It is set at the top of a hill in the Auckland Domain, a huge, lovely park with lots of open space, trails and heritage trees that would be an easy and scenic jog from our accomodations at The Langham Auckland. While its name might suggest that its exhibits are focused on war, the museum houses a broad and fascinating range of collections encompassing natural history, geology, culture and mankind’s history in the Pacific. Set atop one of Auckland’s numerous extinct volcanic cones, the building possesses a commanding view of the area and presents a solemn, classical columned ediface as one approaches up a long drive. Looping around to the opposite side, however, one comes upon the modern Grand Foyer with its wooden “bowl” which sweeps up over the heads of visitors to support a large exhibition and banquet space four floors above.
One could easily spend a day or more at the museum, and it boasts everything from very kid-friendly, interactive exhibits to a well-respected and much-used research library. Admission is free (a $10NZ donation for adults is welcomed), although there is a charge for guided tours and some special exhibits and events. We made good use of our time visiting just a few of the highlights.
New Zealand sits on the Pacific Ring of Fire, and the museum boasts a gallery full of displays on earthquakes and eruptions, complete with a “Shake House” where one watches a mock T.V. news broadcast of an impending volcanic eruption in Auckland’s bay as the house lurches from tremors. We also enjoyed a half-hour Maori cultural performance (the only location in Auckland to present such shows on a daily basis) which included songs, a demonstration of games which were also used to prepare and train warriors, and the haka, a pre-battle ”dance” and chant meant to intimidate one’s foes. (If you saw Invictus, you saw the New Zealand rugby team, the All Blacks, perform a haka before their match.) One of the performers then took us on a brief guided tour of the Maori Court to explain some of the symbolism behind the carvings found on the model storehouse, meeting house and enormous war canoe exhibited there.
We then made our way down to the Viaduct precinct of Auckland’s waterfront to board one of Pride of Auckland‘s 15-meter monohull yachts for a luncheon cruise. We’d been watching heavy clouds building, and, sure enough, just as we stepped aboard, the first spatters of rain struck. After box lunches and hot drinks were handed ’round by the captain and his mate, we headed out into the waters of Waitemata Harbour. Some of us bravely (foolishly?) sat above in the gradually increasing showers, while others ducked below for a tamer but much drier experience. By the time our sandwiches were consumed, it was apparent that, rather than letting up, the rain was increasing to a steady downpour. Large waterproof ponchos were distributed to those still on deck as the healthy wind which accompanied the deluge pushed us along at a good clip. Being a Pacific Northwesterner with plenty of experience with and no fear of a little damp, I enjoyed the ride up top with my fellow writers from the Northeast who had experience sailing and also were not averse to a little weather. We made a quick foray under the Harbour Bridge and observed the bungy-jumping platform slung under the roadway above before heading back to port. Since Auckland hadn’t had any measureable rainfall since December and the region had just officially declared a drought, I was not going to begrudge the weather, especially since I still thoroughly enjoyed myself.
The “retail therapy” planned for the rest of the afternoon was effectively washed out by the continuing rain, however, so we slogged our way back to our rooms for a change of clothes before a most interesting visit to Air New Zealand‘s Hangar 9. For insight into how one airline develops its passenger cabins, check out tomorrow’s blog.
 – Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader
