#birthday crackintheground paisley toshasilver

[dcnativegal]

In which Jane turns 60 in the desert

Thursday, July 25th, 2019 was the first day that we were all together, everyone present. On Wednesday, my cousin Targ (a nickname created from “Margaret”) and her mother, my aunt, my father’s only sibling, Mary Lee Lincoln McIntyre, had arrived in a rental car from Eugene airport and checked into a cabin at Summer Lake Hot Springs. My sister, Elizabeth Lincoln, drove my kids, Jonah and Clara, and two of her kids, Yuuki and Makoto, and her husband Jim, up from Reno, arriving just after noon. My cousin, Julie McIntyre, drove with her son, Shayden, all the way from Tucson, AZ.  Valerie’s youngest, Arden, and his partner Maggie drove in from the Willamette Valley, and Valerie’s sister Karen arrived on Thursday from Chiloquin. Karen left on Friday, having to prepare a sermon for Sunday, so by Saturday morning, this was the assembled crew:

We had a more serious portrait shot but I tend to prefer the ‘act goofy’ photos. I look like a zombie, well fed after the apocalypse, Valerie is simply laughing. Mary Lee, age 86, is clearly game for anything. Yuuki is doing a pose. Maggie is blowing bubbles. Everyone was a good sport.

Months ago, realizing I was headed to the end of my 60th year on earth, I decided to invite the descendants of Ruth and Henry Lincoln to the Oregon Outback, Great Basin, High Desert land of Paisley to celebrate the fact of my existence. Not all could come, but a surprising number did. And the two relations of Valerie who were easily able to join us, got to meet more of my peeps.

That Thursday, we enjoyed a Mexican themed dinner, accommodating the vegan and the beef-eating, the gluten free and the ‘organic-only.’  Since July 25th was the day I decided would be my designated birthday with everyone as my captive audience, we played “Vertellis.”  It’s a Dutch card game that’s pretty simple: four rounds are organized into individual and group questions. I picked two categories of individual questions: Looking back on the year, what was good, crazy, interesting… and, looking forward to next year, what do you plan, hope for, find challenging? Everyone picks a card with a question, and you answer as honestly as you wish when it’s your turn.

I highly recommend https://vertellis.com/ for gatherings of people you don’t regularly see, especially around holidays. The answers can be hilarious, revelatory, and touching. When Valerie drew a card about picking something from the past year that she regretted, she told us: “I should have bought that primer bulb for the weed whacker way sooner!” Ever the practical gal, that Valerie! Clara hopes that the immigration hearing goes well for her husband, Jose. The answers spanned quite a range, and helped us to know each other a little bit better.

Why do we gather relatives only for funerals and weddings?  Or for old people’s 90th birthdays? Why not age 60?

I did feel selfish about the whole thing, off and on. My family had to spend money on the flights, the rental cars, and then the cabins at Summer Lake Hot Springs. My friend and coworker, JD, and his husband Joey lent me their RV camper, so 4 of the young’uns could sleep in that for nothing’. There were 4 Lincoln/McIntyre/Matteuccis and 4 Lincoln/Frey/Saitohs in each cabin. There was a lovely symmetry to the housing. The inside of the cabins has a southwest, rustic feel:

They are not air conditioned, and it was quite hot during the day, although as we say out west, at least ‘it’s a dry heat.’  Here in the desert, it is also very dusty. Thank goodness the temperatures cool off at night to around 50 degrees F, and there’s almost always a breeze.

There are the fabulous hot springs pools, too: here is the pool house at dusk, run through a filter:

We managed to escape the heat by going to the swimming hole in the Chewaucan River, which I’d never been to. The water is cool but not freezing, and clear, so that I could sit in a shallow spot and pick out flat rocks for Clara to skip. Even my aunt went, situated in a camp chair, safe from the water, and an elderly chihuahua named Uddha came, too. He stayed well away from the watery fracas.

Valerie and Uddha

Mary Lee and Uddha

 Someone stacked rocks in a lovely sculptural way:

We spent Friday schlepping to Picture Rock Pass to look at the petroglyphs, and then to Crack in the Ground, where I’d been wanting to go. That place is magical. Aunt Mary Lee sat comfortably in the shade on the picnic bench while the rest of us went one way or another, deep into the crevasses. My cousin’s son Shayden is a confident free climber and scaled all the way to the surface. We breathed in the moist, cool air and reveled in curious rock formations.

Shayden at Crack in the Ground

Where did this fern blow in from? Way to the west? I salute you, brave, flying little fern.

Looks like a path in the Holy Land, or a Roman ruin….

 “Crack in the Ground is a volcanic fissure that formed at the western boundary of a small graben underlying the Four Craters Lava Field. The Crack and lava field were recently dated at about 14,000 years old. The fissure is about 2 miles long and 70 feet deep, and disappears into lake sediments at its southern end. Therefore, this supports an interpretation that Lake Fort Rock rose no higher than this level in the last 14,000 years.”  http://www.fortrockoregon.com/Crack.html

Although impressing my family with the gorgeousness of high desert Eastern Oregon was deeply satisfying, the best part of the visit was the conversations. Family lore was reviewed by Mary Lee, who lived it, and Elizabeth, who brought a copy of a bound books she had made of her genealogy research on the Lincolns and the Smiths (my mother’s side.) Jonah was asked about The Future of Film, and Makoto shared that he’s looking forward to his semester in Japan where he can improve his Japanese and get a bit more feeling about the land of his father’s ancestors. I didn’t actually have any deep conversations. I felt a little bit like a bride: everyone’s gathered here to see me (and my beloved), and my job is to play my role and make sure everyone has enough seltzer to drink, and a comfy clean pillow. It was enough to create the event of gathering: I hope to continue conversations with my sister, cousins, and children by phone with more depth now that we’ve seen each other in the flesh.

 The family came in from Brooklyn, DC, Philadelphia, Virginia, Delaware, Albuquerque and Tucson, all very urban places. The empty expanses, and the star lit night sky, will surely stay with our visitors. Arden, Valerie’s youngest, was a firefighter in Lake County and knows a lot of cool locations, like the dry Loco Lake. He took the youngest generation to check it out on at least two nights. I was too tired. But from the photos, it looks like yet another spooky, otherworldly piece of the Oregon Outback.

Yuuki is the most photogenic creature that ever was, and was beautifully lit at Loco Lake by Jonah.

 Beautiful Clara, and Jonah making Alkali Angels??

 Apparently Loco Lake was a highlight for the youngest generation.

For the oldest traveler, Mary Lee, I think the best part of the trip was just seeing everyone. She’s lived and visited most of the planet, and reared her three children in New Dehli and Lebanon. She knows world history and writes plays about strong women, including Eleanor Roosevelt. She survived being widowed in her early 40s, and again in her 70s. She loves Italy, travel in general, gems, and her children and grandchildren. She loves me enough to deal with flight delays and dusty heat. She is amazing.

I was born in the evening of August 15th when Perry Mason was apparently just starting on TV. My father had just turned 30 two weeks before my arrival, and my mother was just 23. My mother passed away when she was 55, and my father after 7 years in a nursing home following a devastating stroke at age 69. Neither lived long enough to know my life as a divorced lesbian, and would have wondered at my choice to live in Paisley. Hopefully they’d have come around to my being gay, and as long as I have a job and am self sufficient, my father would have relaxed about the move. He’d also loved all the gun-toting, horse-riding republicans and he’d have adored Trump. Mom would have romanticized the First Nation people, and asked me about all the churches we’ve tried in our futile search for another St. Stephen’s. In any case, their daughters, myself and Elizabeth, are doing fine, and so are our five children. Mary Lee has 5 grandchildren, too. The 10 great grands of Ruth and Henry.

Ruth Turner, the descendant of slave owners. Henry Lincoln, cousin to the Great Emancipator. In that tension lies most of American History.

One thing that I reflect on as I think about the descendants of Ruth and Henry, is that we are committed to the social good, and to the arts. My sister is learning Healing Touch for working with animals and humans. Cousin Julie is an expert on pollinators, working against all hope for the healing of the environment with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Her sister, Targ, is a middle school guidance counselor. Brother Andrew McIntyre, who couldn’t come to Paisley, is a professor of acupuncture. Yuuki is an artist, exploring gender and the biracial life as a Japanese-American hyphenated human, with courage and sass. I’ve been a social worker for 33 years, now psychotherapist to the bruised and broken-hearted of Lake County. My daughter Clara is in charge of a tutoring site in Prince Georges County for at risk Latinx youth, using her bilingual skills to bring children and grandchildren of immigrants more opportunity through education. My son Jonah makes music videos in Brooklyn, living in what Beverly Tatum Daniel calls the borderlands where cultures complement, challenge, connect and stimulate each other. I asked him recently why he only dates women of color, particularly women of the African Diaspora. He says, they can relate to being of two cultures. Since he grew up white in a non-white world, he feels like a code switcher, too.

We are all in our own way, justice-seeking.

 The other part of the birthday extravaganza was letting people give to me. Receiving. Valerie had been reading a book called, It’s Not Your Money, by Tosha Sliver, who’s an amazing writer using humor and an ecumenical lens. I started reading it, and found this prayer, which I inhaled into my heart for the awkwardness of receiving all the love of my family for my birthday.

Here I go, headlong into my 61st year, giving with complete ease and abundance, wildly open to receiving.

#birthday crackintheground paisley toshasilver