I've lived in this neighborhood for nearly 15 years. When the lease on my boyfriend's place mercilessly expired, we moved here. On full-sun days, his place was so dark, we dubbed his top floor apartment "the bat cave." I spent the next six months getting to know the area...and shopping for an apartment.
We found a sweet spot with a view of the lake, misty snow-capped mountains, and sunsets so beautiful, I'd drop everything and race home. Watching, transfixed, as the colors in the sky shifted from vibrant oranges and fire-glow pink, and receded into shades of sherbert. Eventually, the sky would yield to the moon, and a study of blues.
Just down the road was a blackberry patch, deep and lush. We'd fill 5-gallon buckets and then, after a quick check for bugs, I'd submerge the berries in vodka and wait 'til Christmas. In the dreary days of winter, inky blackberry vodka provided an instant infusion of summer.
The blackberry patch was prone to flooding, but I didn't mind. Penetrating the tangle of new growth to harvest the more seasoned branches, I'd slip and slide, wondering exactly how many layers I'd have to wear to avoid the thorns? Scratched and bleeding, my hands bore heavy stains and I'd chuck it up to "opportunity cost." The berries--and their many incarnations--were worth it.
But there will be no berries this year. That land is now home to a massive 200-room hotel. I watched as they hung the fake Greek-inspired trim--noticeably hollow from my vantage at a nearby stoplight.
A construction boom on a city-wide scale has eliminated most of the mom & pop shops. My favorite Thai restaurant shuttered years ago, and sits idle while developers secure the surrounding properties. Another massive construction project is inevitable.
They leveled the place where my friend Amy worked. And that 250-seat restaurant was turned to dust within a matter of days. The electronics store is now a prospering Whole Foods and that car dealership on the corner was overtaken by the hospital expansion. I feel like George Bailey in "It's a Wonderful Life," washed up in Potterville.
Lost in a sea of change, today I drove by a spot where that funky hotel used to sit. The Mexican cooks used to meet there every Thursday for salsa night. Ostrich-skinned cowboy boots and five-inch wide belt buckles replaced checkered chef pants and marinara-splattered tennis shoes. Emboldened by Tecates and tequila, we'd linger late into the night.
Lost in that memory, I was jolted into the present. In the shadow of a towering--and mostly vacant, glass & steel condo building, a sea of poppies waved gently in the breeze. Trying to get a closer look, I rounded block and quickly abandoned my car. Dodging ambulances and evening commuters, a simulated bird chirped my way through the crosswalk.
Philosophical and more than a wee bit sentimental, I thought about digging my heels in, and resisting the change swirling around me. Maybe...it's time to embrace something new. It's not a blackberry patch, but rooted in an unlikely spot next to the freeway, this brazen field of poppies was dancing in the wind.
I can't tell you how I first met Ivan Lo, but his documentary photography moved me from the beginning. His searing images, captured in the world's most dangerous hot spots, have resonated with me for days. (View his portfolio here.)
Ivan identifies himself as a humanitarian, travel, and street photographer. From arid hill top towns in Afghanistan to monsoon-flooded plains in Cambodia, his work reveals the human side of complex issues. Battles are fought and won over precious resources, geographical boundaries shift, and ethnic rivals clash, but what remains--no matter what the conflict--are the citizens who must carry on. In spite of their circumstances, Ivan's subjects reflect candor and grace.
an elderly couple waits as a new well is drilled in their slum - Patna, India
[November, 2009]
Traca: Tell me about your career. Did you study photography in college?
Ivan: I started out as a business major, but then I realized I didn't want to live my life that way. My university's sister school had a photojournalism program but unfortunately, I didn't get in. So I stayed at my school (University of Illinois, Chicago) and switched my major to fine art photography. I thought it wouldn't be that far off from photojournalism, which was obviously a big mistake on my part. I finished the program in about 3 years.
Traca: Technique in fine art photography vs. photojournalism is totally different. No elaborate light set ups in photojournalism!
Ivan: The only thing I really learned was how to process my own b/w film, which is something I could have just looked up. The rest of my classes were basically bullshit. They would put up a photograph of something silly like a dog on a table and the class would discuss it. Somebody with thin jeans and a bad haircut would say things like, "This is a commentary on communism in America during the Cold War."
Traca: Seriously?
Ivan: Yeah, it was absolutely brutal. I frequently butted heads with my professors because I thought their classes were a waste of time.
children at play outside the royal tomb - Kabul, Afghanistan
Ivan: I began my career while still in college, shooting during summer break.
Traca: For newspapers?
Ivan: No, just on my own. By the time I graduated--1 year late--in 2007, I had already worked in the Dominican Republic and Afghanistan.
Traca: Summer break in Afghanistan?
Ivan: I worked for several NGOs there.
Traca: I bet your parents were thrilled.
Ivan: My mother was convinced that I would be kidnapped.
Traca: Did you make money or do it for the experience?
Ivan: For the experience. Humanitarian photography doesn't really pay, although I did get to travel for free.
children walking through the bazaar - Kabul, Afghanistan
Traca: Did you approach NGO's before leaving the U.S....or line something up when you hit the ground? Ivan: I established connections with the NGOs beforehand and they covered my expenses. For Afghanistan, I worked with a team of friends that I met in college. We offered our professional expertise to NGOs. Most of the other guys were software developers.
So for instance, one of our biggest clients in Afghanistan was an airline that flew aid workers around the country. They were running flight operations out of Excel spreadsheets, which is about as primitive as it gets without pen and paper. So we stepped in and wrote flight scheduling/tracking/booking software for them from scratch.
While the rest of the guys were in an office writing code, I went into the field and took photos.
Traca: And you were able to move around the country because you were working with the airline?
Ivan: Precisely. Basically, my clients would line things up for me. For instance, if I was working for NGO X one day, they'd take me around to visit their project sites...and then the next day, I'd be working with NGO Y.
Traca: Got it. So they took care of your on the ground expenses?
Ivan: Yes, that and we established our own NGO. Fundraising pays for the expenses our clients don't cover.
Maasai women at a village meeting - Maasailand, Kenya
Traca: What kind of fundraising?
Ivan: We don't hold fundraising events, per se. We basically get on our hands and knees and beg people we know for money. We tell them it's for a good cause, that our work is helping to rebuild Afghanistan's infrastructure, etc. Things will become much more official once we really get our NGO off the ground. Right now it's a very small operation.
Traca: So you want to go back to Afghanistan?
Ivan: Definitely. I've been there three times already. I was supposed to go back again this year but the Taliban really stepped things up. Most of our clients fled the country, so if all goes well, I'll be there again sometime next year.
Traca: What are you doing now?
Ivan: Looking for work, as always. I was in Cambodia for the month of September shooting for another NGO. Now that I'm back, there's not much going on.
children play as a new well is drilled in their slum - Patna, India
Traca: Can you talk about making the shift from fine art photography to documentary work?
Ivan: There wasn't much of a shift, actually. I was never really a 'fine art photographer'. I've taken some abstract photos here and there, but most of my serious stuff is documentary.
Traca: I chatted with another documentary photographer and they talked about the importance of "being in the moment and out of the moment at the same time." And after watching The War Photographer, I'm curious about that. How to you approach the situation and get people to relax? I'm looking at your 'Life in Kabul' image with the vendor crouched on top of his street cart. Was that shot at a long distance?
Ivan: No, I was right next to him. I guess the trick is to not look suspicious. People tend to relax when they see that you're not hiding anything. I don't think about much when I'm taking photos. Overthinking kills it for me. For instance, if I'm shooting something, I'll typically take more than one shot...sometimes even more than a few, but the first images are almost always the best out of the bunch.
Traca: I think I need a faster lens. I just have the kit lens that came with my camera.
Ivan: I don't think it's absolutely necessary. Most of my best shots were made with pretty slow lenses (3.5-5.6).
Traca:Chase Jarvis says the best camera is the one you have...and learning how to use it properly.
Ivan: I'm definitely with him on that. A lot of people pay far too much attention to their equipment and they end up wasting time that could've been spent actually taking photographs.
A lot of people call themselves photographers when they're actually just camera collectors, you know?
Traca: I'm frustrated because I spend a lot of time delving into the big picture--conceptual stuff when I really should focus on the technical side of things.
Ivan: Having a good grasp on the technical side of things in definitely important. As long as it doesn't get in the way of actual photography. Cameras these days are pretty intelligent. I usually just leave my camera on full auto, and let it do the grunt work for me.
Traca: Really?
Ivan: When I first started out, I used my dad's old camera, a heavy Nikon from the 70's. manual everything.
Traca: I was in a photo seminar recently and learned how to shoot manual. I'm thinking, for quick shots--like documentary work--manual is a pain in the ass!
Ivan: It definitely is. When I finally got my first DSLR, I spent the first year or so shooting it on full manual until I realized that it was a bit silly. I spent so much money on an intelligent camera. Why not let it do what it was designed to do?
two brothers outside their father's shop - Kabul, Afghanistan
Traca: Your brother is a photographer too?
Ivan: Yeah, my brother is a motorsport photographer. My father used to be a photographer as well, as a young man in Hong Kong, but he gave it up when us kids came along.
Traca: So, do you talk about photography together?
Ivan: My brother and I do sometimes. I tag along with him to a race every once in a while. I borrow one of his enormous lenses and try to do what he does, but it never turns out nearly as good.
Traca: I hosted Scott Bourne for a lecture recently. He shoots nature with those big lenses. Scott says most people never really learn how to press the button to shoot. You should roll your finger across the button vs. pressing it directly--because with a long focal length, every movement makes a difference.
He also talked about studying all the factors of nature. He used an example of wanting to shoot an image in the mist. Scott said, "Wouldn't it make sense if you actually knew what conditions created mist?"
Ivan: I really admire nature photographers. It takes a lot of patience to do what they do.
a mother waits patiently for her husband - Kabul, Afghanistan
Ivan: It may come as a bit of a surprise but I don't spend very much time looking at photos--other than my own, that is.
So far, James Nachtwey has been the only photographer whose work has really got me going--and not just his photographs but his attitude toward his work. I really admire that.
Traca: He strikes me as a man who's singularly dedicated. I get the feeling that he lives for his work.
Ivan: I get that impression of him as well.
children play as a new well is drilled in their slum - Patna, India
Ivan: Actually, there is another photographer that has been catching my interest recently http://vivianmaier.blogspot..com/. Her work was only discovered after her death.
Traca: What about her work resonates with you?
Ivan: Her street photography is extraordinary. There's a depth of feeling, of connection in her photographs even though most of her subjects might have been complete strangers to her. Plus, it's Chicago, which strikes a very personal chord with me.
Traca: Can you tell me...how does your illness affect your work?
Ivan: Currently, I'm suffering from avascular necrosis, which is a byproduct of the leukemia. In other words, my left hip is dead. There's partial bone collapse and I usually have to use crutches to get around. This is a pretty new development--it set in only within the past year or so.
When I was in Cambodia, I was on painkillers pretty much the entire time because the only thing more annoying than walking with crutches, is trying to shoot with crutches. So yeah, my medical condition really does get in the way, but I try my best not to let it affect me.
Traca: I really admire people who do it anyway.
Ivan: The way I see it, I'm living on borrowed time. Two years ago, when I was first being treated, I faced death on a daily basis. I wasn't sure how much longer I had to live. They put me on medication to help control my blood cell counts, but it ended up wiping out my immune system. I was in medical quarantine for about a month because I was totally vulnerable to even the most common of germs. I had to have my temperature taken constantly to make sure I wasn't running a fever.
Traca: Is that why you graduated a year later?
Ivan: No, this happened after I finished school. In fact, it happened right after I spent 3 months abroad shooting. I was out there, you know? I was having afternoon tea with security forces out in the mountains of and then I came back to Chicago only to be hit with this illness. My life completely flipped upside down. From intense travel to medical quarantine in a matter of weeks.
Maasai children at their newly built school - Massailand, Kenya
Traca: And how are you dealing with it?
Ivan: My confidence was completely shattered. I became very depressed until things became stable and I was able to resume my life. That was when I realized that I was living on borrowed time and that, really, I should be dead right now. So why not take the chance and try to do some good.
Traca: What's the long term outlook? Do they know?
Ivan: I have an extremely rare form of leukemia (chronic eosinophilic). The drug that helps control it was only introduced in 2001 so absolutely nobody has had the chance to live with this disease until now. Long term outlook is a complete unknown. Me and the 25 other people in the US that have CEL are writing history, so to speak. Doctors will most likely be keeping a very close eye on me for the rest of my life.
Traca: We talked about my Life List. What's on your "life list" now?
Ivan: I used to have a life list before I was diagnosed but I've discarded it now.
Traca: Time to write a new one?
Ivan: I've already made my peace with God. I'm ready to die anytime. My only goal is to use the rest of my life to help people (hopefully through photography) which is why i'm still doing humanitarian work despite it paying next to nothing.
*** Interview update: At the time of this post, Ivan was on crutches with a collapsing, degenerative hip bone. He just returned from assignment in India.
New Orleans-based Poppy Tooker opened Seattle's 2010 Farmer-Fisher-Chef-Connection with a compelling and thought-provoking keynote.
Take a trip to New Orleans and you will quickly learn, the citizens of that great city have a shared identity, bound together through food. Legendary New Orleans dishes like jambalaya, red beans and rice, beignets, and Creole cream cheese, have had a tremendous cultural impact, and resonate with the flavors of “home.”
But in a post-hurricane Katrina world, the citizens of New Orleans are asking themselves some tough questions. While the nightly news coverage featured devastating images from hurricane Katrina, when the camera crews packed up and went home, what remained was an equally compelling story about basic survival: How do you save the food system?
In the days following hurricane Katrina, Poppy began to assess the damage. Taking up residence at her sister-in-law’s home in Baton Rouge, Poppy was the sole remaining person from New Orleans’ Crescent City Farmer’s Market still in Louisiana. The mandatory evacuations had scattered residents across the country, and basic communication--phone service, internet and even mail was disrupted for months. (Some residents were without phone service until February 2006, six months after the hurricane hit shore.)
From her southern outpost, Poppy sleuthed together the puzzle: What happened to the farmer’s market vendors?
Assessing the damage, she embarked on a mission to determine the impact on the vendors: What was their current situation? Their loss? And did they have anything left to sell?
An e-mail from a shrimp fisherman, dated September 15, 2005 painted a grim picture:
Hi y’all.
Things could definitely be better. We have lost everything. The boat has sunk. We are at the hands of scalpers to rent a barge, a crane, a cherry picker, and $5/gallon gasoline.
We’ve just about exhausted our savings. I just received my $2,000 from FEMA, and $1,500 is going to the crane operator.
Well, there are some good Samaritans. Ray has nowhere to stay, and the Vietnamese fishermen have taken him in on their boat. They’re helping him, for free. There is a silver lining for everything.
Our home still has 3-4 feet of sludge sitting in it. The only good thing is, I still have some insurance. However, if they bull doze the house like the parish official said in Baton Rouge yesterday, it won’t be enough to cover the mortgage and rebuild. I guess we should have revamped our insurance when real estate soared. Oh well. At this point I can only push forward and I do have beautiful memories of my parents, grandparents, and children.
There is nothing left to our business but a fish cutting room and the cooking rig. I’m sure the Lord is trying somehow to guide me, but I just need to find the path. It will be hard to rebuild the business and the boat, when neither one had any insurance.
I’m wondering how I could possibly get work? Maybe cooking for the workers who are rebuilding everything? I’ve never been afraid of work. I’m willing to do anything to save my family and my husband’s heritage.
I hope that maybe any one of you could shed some light on this grim, grim subject.
Thank you for thinking of me. Words of hope from good friends are worth their weight in gold. Our home is in Shreveport until my nephew kicks me out.
I know you’ve all faced tragedy from Katrina and I wish you all the best in the rebuilding process.
Love, Kay, a.k.a The Shrimp Girl – this girl will be back!
They quickly learned, desperate times call for basic solutions.
Eventually, Poppy identified the few farmers who had crops left, and cobbled together a 19th century distribution system. Farmers took turns driving produce to a cooking school where there was a working walk-in cooler. The first chefs to return to New Orleans after the hurricane—like John Besh—bought whatever the farmers could supply. An envelope with cash would be left for the farmer, and retrieved on his next trip into town.
As you can tell, Poppy Tooker is a woman who gets things done. In 1999, she founded the New Orleans chapter of Slow Food and is Vice President of the Crescent City Farmers Market. Raised in a food culture with deep traditions, her quest is in preserving both foods and traditions quintessential to their culture.
Through Slow Food’s Arc of Taste and her own “Eat it to Save It” mission, Poppy focuses on regional foods that are often crowded out of the marketplace. Ever heard of Creole cream cheese? A throwback to her childhood, Creole cream cheese was delivered weekly by the milk man. As Poppy puts it, nostalgically, “It was like solid mama’s milk.”
When the local dairies folded, the larger, industrial corporations supplied their dairy from out of state. They didn’t understand this local product. Without a supplier, Creole cream cheese was nearly driven to extinction.
At a Slow Food meeting, Poppy posed the question, “What local food needs to be saved?” The response was unanimous.
Enter the Creole cream cheese revival.
Next question: “How do you save something?” If you can’t buy it, teach people how to make it themselves.
A demonstration at the Crescent City Farmers Market began the Creole cream cheese crusade. Within weeks, dozens of people were making it at home. Add some news coverage and few well-placed articles and eventually, and an artisan Creole cream cheese market was launched. The first product available at the farmers market drew over 200 people. That day, 500 units of Creole cream cheese were completely sold out by 10 AM. “This created a craze like you cannot believe!”
As Poppy tells it, “Today, Creole cream cheese is commonplace again in New Orleans.”
Weaving together survival stories from hurricane Katrina and the urgent need to preserve our food culture, Poppy is quick to note, “Preserving our food traditions, lies not only in an awareness, but a market demand for culturally-rich foods.” Here in the Pacific Northwest, we too have a thriving local food tradition—Olympia Oysters, Shuksan strawberries, etc. Without market demand, these indiginous regional foods could be pushed to extinction.
Poppy’s mission reminds us that food—local food—is an important cultural link. And behind her message is bold-faced call to action: to preserve local food traditions, you must “Eat it to Save It.”
The challenge we are left with is great.
Under the presence of a catastrophic event, like hurricane Katrina, what three things would you preserve? Fundamental to our local way of life, what seeds would you save? Build an ark. What native animals would you include? Consider that during hurricane Katrina, thousands of people lost their entire recipe collection. The displaced citizens of New Orleans, attempting to recreate local dishes were without recipes to guide them back to the flavors of home. In an evacuation situation, what recipes would you bring?
April 2010, the movie Fresh will launch its nationwide debut...and I highly recommend it. Among films of this genre, my notes say, “This film is vital.” I received an early release copy from the director, Ana Joanes, and was surprised to learn this is only her second documentary. Fresh is evidence that the Swiss-born, Brooklyn-based Joanes has a unique gift for storytelling. Production on Fresh began in late 2005, and it is a thrill to see the final outcome.
NOTE: Early marketing for the film is a grassroots effort. If you'd like to host a screening...details here.
Fresh director Ana Joanes takes us on a journey, contrasting large-scale agriculture with champions of the small farm movement.
The film offers a critical look at mono crops (farms that grow only one product, like corn), profiled against successful farms that have ultimately, veered from the industrial agricultural model. Driving the point home are stunning images of densely-packed feed lots, which make a startling juxtaposition to “farms done right”.
What distinguishes Freshfrom other films of this sort is an undercurrent of hopefulness. The film profiles farmers who have broken with modern farm methods, and are thriving. Yes, the American agricultural system is broken. Fresh shines the light on farmers who are pioneering a new model, successfully.
Champion of the good food movement, Michael Pollan and agricultural economist John Ikerd provide an important narrative. “We can tip the balance of nature to a certain extent, “ says Ikerd, “but when we tip the balance too far, it causes problems.”
While Americans have the lowest food-to-income ratio in the world, Ikerd raises the alarm. “We got so obsessed with productivity and having more cheap stuff….We’re facing the inevitable consequences.” High-density animal farming, resulting concentrations of urine and feces that produce toxic waste, teamed with the heavy use of antibiotics and crop pesticides…the current model for cheap food is fraught with external costs.
Ikerd cautions, “It’s time to shift to a different world view, a different paradigm for the future.”
Cut to a pastoral scene of idyllic cows grazing on knee-high grass. Swoope, Virginia sustainable farmer Joe Salatinsays, “It doesn’t get much better than this.” Illustrating his point, we see the interconnectedness of a truly sustainable farm. Cows graze on the land, and to avoid over use, they are rotated to a different pasture…daily. Three days after the cows, follow free range chickens that break up cow pies and feed on the fly larvae. The commensal relationship goes full circle. Chickens benefit from the cows, and in turn, break up the manure, which results in a natural fertilizer for the field.
As a steward of the land, the rotation system Salatin uses also makes financial sense. Between grazing and cutting the field for hay, “Not only do you get diversity of multi-speciation, but you’ve got all these complimentary income streams.” He illustrates his point in hard numbers, “Instead of the neighbor who just runs beef cows getting $150 per acre, we’re getting over $3,000 dollars an acre per acre.” Stalin ads, “And we haven’t bought a single seed or an ounce of fertilizer in 50 years!”
Will Allen, professional basketball player-turned urban farmer adds another important perspective. Farming on just 3 acres in urban Milwaukee, Allen illustrates vertical gardening with hanging flower pots staggered from floor to ceiling. In this case, the flowers have been replaced with lettuce, and the camera pans to a bounty of greens. Shuffling between rows of hanging baskets under a greenhouse canopy, Allen says, off-handedly, “We grow 150 varieties of micro-greens and salad greens.”
Moving on, Allen digs his massive hands into a wooden box filled midnight black soil, teeming with worms. Compost is key. “Whether it’s urban agriculture or rural agriculture, in a sustainable way, you have to grow healthy soil. That’s what we do.” He drives the point home, “We’re going to compost 6 million pounds of food waste from the City of Milwaukee this year.”
“We compost the waste and feed it to the worms.” Allen adds, “That food residue turns into microbiological-rich soil.” With his hands writhing with worms, he says, “This is your base material for growing good food.”
Diversification on Allen’s farmincludes above-ground tanks of freshwater Tilapia. There too, the waste goes full circle. A pump removes water from the fish tanks, which is then used to water the plants. “Just like a stream or a river,” Allen reminds an attentive audience on a farm tour. “The plant’s roots take up the nutrients and clean the water.”
Fresh profiles a number of other farms, woven seamlessly with narrative of Pollan and Ikerd. (Kudos to the film's editor, Mona Davis.) The end result is an informative film that is both enlightening and entertaining.
*** NOTE: As of this writing, the film is touring in limited release. Check the websitefor screenings near you.
I sent the following post to Crescent before I hit "publish". (Call it a courtesy preview....)
Fresh off a teaching gig at Mexico's famous Rancho La Puerta, Crescent reviewed the post, and as usual, chimed in with her own comments. She has given me permission to share our exchange...and her comments are in itallics.
***
Award-winning author Crescent Dragonwagon and I have been friends for years. While we don’t see each other much, Crescent has taught me the beauty of regularly scheduled phone calls. We block out an hour or more; she fixes a pot of tea, and over the phone, we settle in for a long and lingering conversation. Inevitably, she bestows a wheelbarrow full of wisdom that keeps me pondering for weeks.
Our first encounter was in the spring. Touring Seattle, we stopped a favorite park, wedged between a freeway and the edge of Chinatown. A swath of cherry trees were in full bloom and shafts of sunlight found us...lingering under a shower of blossoms.
[Crescent: Traca commented that it was like being under a huge frilly ante-bellum skirt, and it was! We also visited with some Japanese community gardeners, very old, non-English speaking. Perhaps because neither she nor I ever take a day off, it was pure enchantment for both of us.]
Spring is bold and vibrant, and in my mind, forever linked to Crescent. Since I’ve got her on my mind, I thought I’d share:
11 Things I Learned from Crescent Dragonwagon
1. Embrace your weird ass name. As Crescent tells it, in a bold and defiant move she chose her name during her “hippy dippy days”. Although I did not choose my name, it has its own colorful history. Below the surface, both our names reveal so much more.
[Crescent: Well, at the time I thought I was a radical, not a hippie... the full story's here. I don't know if I embrace my wierd-ass name so much as I do live with it, including my ambivalence.]
2. Money in publishing is a nebulous thing. Write anyway.
[Crescent: YES! Traca, if you got this from me, and if anyone else gets it from me via you, we've added major credit to our karmic American Express accounts.]
3. When it comes to photography, we’re like the odd couple. I photograph everything. She photographs nothing. As a skilled observer, I’m convinced she “sees” more. (I lean on the image; she expresses it through words.)
[Crescent: Aw. This is nice, Traca. Of course, we have to mention my partner, David, who IS willing to photograph for me these days, much better than I could, so I've come over to your point of view somewhat. But, people, I'm convinced we all see in different ways, have different natural gifts in what and how we see, which we then have the option to develop. Or not. Traca and I both take our natural gifts and inclinations and push 'em to a point some might call obsessive.]
4. An infinity sign and a bit of wisdom changed my life. Crescent tells me: We are all on the infinity path. Sometimes you’re on a peak. Sometimes you’re in a valley. Embrace them both. They’re equally valuable steps in the process.
[Crescent: Because, you know, whether or not we embrace the unpleasant, difficult, heartbreaking stuff --- we get it. So best to embrace, which doesn't mean like, it, since there it is. Once we quit pathologizing (it's WRONG to feel badly or be in a tough unfair situation at times, rather than seeing it as a natural part of life, from which no life is exempt) the resistance ends ... and with it a whole layer of pain. You may still hurt, but not so badly, and WITH utility --- with a sense that you can use the suffering/hurt/fear/loss.]
5. The back of the book –notes, bibliography, acknowledgements offers its own treasure trove. These days, I read books from back to front…and pay particular attention to bibliographies. (A great example? See “The Fortune Cookie Chronicles: Adventures in the World of Chinese Food” by Jennifer 8. Lee. Pure gold.)
[Crescent: Gee, I didn't realize I taught Traca this! COOL! (Another reason to tell people you love or respect that you do and why. And I hadn't heard of The Fortune Cookie Chronicles which I will now go and seek out. Tho on Traca's and mine first day together we visited a fortune cookie factory which had a sign above the seconds which said 'unfortunate cookies.' I bet you have a picture of that somewhere, don't you, Traca? And can lay your hands on it? Which is REALLY impressive!] NOTE: It is one of my favorite photos. Unfortunatly, between my stolen laptop and her currupted hard drive, it's officially lost forever.
6. The drop of water theory. To the naked eye, a drop of water is just that. But under a microscope, it reveals much more than meets the eye. Pond water? A single drop reveals a whole life force teeming within. What you see, depends on your perspective. The lesson? Be willing to change your perspective.
[Crescent: Ah, this is one from my late father, Maurice Zolotow. His great literary compliment was "It's a drop of water book" --- meaning, it may explore only an infinitesimal part of life, but through that part, the writer shows you the whole world.]
7. The drop of water theory, as it applies to books. During one of our long distance tea parties, we had a long chat about books. While Crescent’s work falls into two distinct genres-- food and children’s books-- her reading list extends far beyond that. A random book on fly fishing, she tells me, revealed incredible insights. The lesson? Read everything. (See Crescent’s current reading list here on the left. Scroll down.)
[Crescent: Whoops, I better update it, Traca! Thanks for reminding me.]
8. To be a good writer, read excellent writing. Visiting her home in Vermont, I was ushered into my room. In the adjoining bathroom, she placed a carefully selected a stack of New Yorker magazines. Dog-eared pages highlighted articles of note. What can I say? She is my Socrates; I am her enthusiastic student. Thanks, Cres. I get it now.
[Crescent: Soc it to me, baby! (Y'all, Traca is too generous. Really. She is.)]
9. Love them anyway. Now in her mid-50’s, Crescent adds elder care to a long list of competing priorities. As her aging mother becomes increasingly dependent, their rocky relationship takes on a new challenge. It’s an exasperating… and often infuriating process, but she handles it with grace. The lesson: Love them anyway.
[Crescent: With this shift in time and life-cycles, sometimes you get a chance to work out things that you couldn't when you were a child-child and they were a gigantic and controlling adult. When you are an adult child and they are old enough that they start to lose it, you get one last opportunity. My mother can no longer rehash the past or worry about the future - she's in NOW, and it is much easier to be with her. Without past and future, make a reduction sauce of life and it comes down to ... love.]
10. Nothing is wasted on the writer. This phrase was often repeated by her father, Maurice. He too, was an author. Every experience, large or small, becomes part of the author’s repetoir. Crescent embraces this theory wholeheartedly, and her repetior is as diverse as they come. Over the course of our friendship, she’s written a one-woman play, finished three books, has a new book under contract, lectured throughout the country, and taken numerous classes ranging from improvisation to hand drumming. A rich life, takes effort. Embrace it.
[Crescent: Thanks, MZ, for giving me this. Thanks, Traca, for passing this on.]
11. No matter what life deals you, press on. It began as a routine day. She went to a conference; her husband of 23 years went on a long distance bike ride. The day would end…at the hospital. Ned, the love of her life, was hit by a car and died at age 44. Viewing her husband’s broken body in the hospital emergency room, blood and life saving medical debris was still fresh on the floor. She lowered her voice. “The doctor ,” she says, “wore scrubs with eggplants on them.”
[Crescent: They were black, with a print of vegetables and fruit. Picking up the pieces, Traca makes this sound fast --- it wasn't; I was IN pieces, and lived with this for a couple of years.]
She closed her award-winning B&B and two years after Ned's death, moved to Vermont. While Ned’s name frequently pops up in conversation, she has built a new life, with a new love. Tragedy is a life-altering event. You choose what comes next.
[Crescent: Well, it's funny, Traca. You do and you don't. If the hit you've taken is deep enough, you can't hurry getting through grief. You can't fast-forward to your future. You have to wait for it to be revealed to you, but it's THE most active kind of waiting you will do in your life. You have to open wide, wide, wide, at a time when you are in so much pain. You have to somehow keep hold of a faith in life, even when you really don't feel it, and let time pass.]
A final bit of Crescent wisdom: When you stick your head in the sand, you leave your ass exposed!
[Crescent: Traca! You know I said this for the first and only time (so far) once when we were talking! I'm so glad you reminded me!]
What is a Tall Poppy? That's an Aussie expression for "a happy high achiever." I'm not so sure about the achiever part...but I do tend to find myself in some interesting situations. Come along with me!
Want to get in touch? I'd love to hear from you! Contact:
seattletallpoppy AT gmail DOT com
"Traca is one of those natural born connectors with a genius for knowing the most interesting people and a hunger to introduce them to each other." - Michaele Weissman, author of God in a Cup
"Food guru" - Edible Seattle
"Seattle's matchmaker of food lovers." - Rebekah Denn, Seattle P.I.
"A food voice to follow on Twitter." - Seattle Magazine
children walking through the bazaar - Kabul, Afghanistan
two brothers outside their father's shop - Kabul, Afghanistan
