Blue Ice And Wind

The end of February was bitterly cold, so I searched my closet for outfits that long underwear could be worn beneath without adding much bulk, since my work commute from northwest Baltimore County, Maryland, to the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. requires walking outside at both ends of the trip as well as standing on an elevated outdoor platform to await a subway train.  I found the perfect foil in a pair of super-wide belled jeans that were custom made for me from a pair I loved that disintegrated shortly after I bought them (see Hanging By A Thread).  

Besides, I was eager to have another excuse to wear this adorable sweater by My Collection, with its icy blue stripes and unusual muff-style front pocket.  The super-wide, three-quarter length Dolman sleeves complemented my wide bellbottoms and make the piece even more atypical, connected the way they are to the side seams of the sweater clear down to the hem.  This could have made the top a bit awkward to wear, since raising one’s arms means the entire sweater rises up.  However, the fabulous color variegation in the yarn, from gray to light blue to navy, makes it easy to layer the unique pullover with a variety of long-sleeve Tees.  On this day I chose a gray, ribbed knit Tee by Faded Glory, which allowed me to raise and lower my arms at will without worry about exposing myself to the harsh winter elements.

This fabulous sweater was a recent gift from Joyce, the mother of my best friend, Kari.  Joyce sent me the top in a box of gently-used clothing she no longer wore.  I was thrilled to get everything in the box, but this sweater really called out to me because of its extraordinary design.

Robinson's department store in Pasadena, California,
was a frequent destination of my mother and
grandmother when I was growing up

I pulled comfortable booties by Pink & Pepper over thick ski socks and played up the gray in the sweater by covering my head with an heirloom mink pillbox hat by Miss Alice that my grandmother bought at J.W. Robinson’s Department store in Pasadena, California, in the 1950s (I still have the hat box it came in!), and added my grandmother’s dangly earrings -- gray pearls that I long ago converted to pierced from old-fashioned screw-backs.

After one of my black walnut trees
snapped clear in half during a
powerful wind and ice storm in
mid-February, workers from
JamesPickett's Tree Service cut it down

The severe winter ice and wind storm that swept across the eastern half of the country in mid-February wreaked mercifully little havoc on my two acres.  I lost power several times through the course of the storm’s worst 60 mile-per-hour winds and had many large limbs from broken trees to drag cross my property into piles that eventually reached far over my head.  One walnut tree, however, broke literally in half. I didn’t feel comfortable about climbing so far up into the tree by myself with a Sawzall, so I called the owner of my trusty tree service, James Pickett.  It took almost two weeks for the company to clear out their post-storm emergency tree removal work before they could get to me.  But on this frigid day at the end of the month, as I was embarking on my chilly commute to the District of Columbia, the owner’s son and a couple of helpers arrived to make short work of the shattered tree and carry away all the broken branches in my two gigantic piles. 

Let the winds howl.  I was warm and comfy in my ice-blue sweater and giant bellbottoms all the way to work and back!
Cheers,
Lynell

Caped Crusader

The weather was on a roll, it seemed.  Mother Nature would pack a walloping final punch of a winter storm the following day, but on this day, at the end of February, temperatures reached the mid-40s in Baltimore county, Maryland, where I live. Almost 50 degrees!  It was downright balmy compared to the sustained cold we’d endured all season in the mid-Atlantic.

I was on a roll, too.  I have a number of beautiful shawls, most of which are light, lacy confections that wouldn’t offer even a modicum of  protection from bracing air.  But I also own this gigantic, almost blanket-sized wrap in muted shades of orange and gold.  I was dying for a slightly warmer day to wear the cloak for my 90-minute commute by car, subway and foot to Washington D.C.  This last, less frigid day before another round of wintry weather arrived seemed like an ideal occasion for an enveloping cape.

I started with baggy sufi pants by medieval costumer Moresca, which would allow room for toasty long underwear beneath the trousers.  I added a simple brown sweater by Joseph A. and rich, cognac-hued riding boots by Brash which I purchased in New York City just before Christmas.  I wrapped the super-sized cape around me and let the fringe dangle.  I added a wide bracelet of pale wooden beads and a pair of earrings carved from oak to round out my look.

A chill wind picked up in the afternoon, bringing with it barometric changes that foretold the coming storm.  But I was snugly enrobed in my cocoon of soft wool, feeling as if, at any moment, the wind would fill my cape like a sail and lift me to the heavens, Flying Nun style, with fringe fluttering, where I would swiftly flit far above the commuters sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic below.  A girl can dream!
Cheers,
Lynell

Space And Time

Costumed characters greeted patrons at the BSO's
Sci-Fi Spectacular concert on February 22

It was an uncharacteristically mild (for February) Saturday night in Maryland.  I had tickets to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra’s Sci-Fi Spectacular, a program of mesmerizing compositions from such well-known movies as Star Wars, E.T., Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, and 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Since this was to be a more laid back symphonic production, conducted by the BSO’s esteemed Pops conductor Jack Everly instead of music director Marin Alsop, I chose more casual attire for the evening.

Having spent most of the afternoon attending the American Craft Council’s annual craft show at the Baltimore Convention Center, I decided the same outfit was quite appropriate (and comfortable) for the evening’s venue, as well: a pair of copper-colored BrazilRoxx jeans with shiny studwork and shimmering embroidery, paired with a gossamer shawl by Sterling Styles.  I changed only my top, switching from a simple cotton tank to a sequin-covered camisole by Ann Klein.  With glittery copper earrings from Chico’s to highlight a gorgeous electroplated oak leaf necklace from Nature's Creations which I found at the craft show, I added only a copper bracelet and a “dea dread” hair comb before making my way to the Joseph B. Meyerhoff Symphony Hall in Baltimore City’s arts and culture district.

The Meyerhoff Symphony Hall is
 a study in modern architecture

A lone Storm-Trooper "guards" the
stage before the concert begins

The evening was delightful. Characters dressed in realistic costumes from various science fiction adventures greeted patrons in the lobby of the symphony hall before the concert.  As I took my seat in the beautiful and modern auditorium, which was designed and built in 1978 by the architectural firms Pietro Belluschi and Jung/Brannen Associates, an “armed” storm-trooper stood sentinel at the front of the 65- by 35-foot stage while musicians warmed up behind him with their instruments.

George Takei and Kristen
Plumley added an authentic
note to the evening

Shortly after Maestro Everly took the stage and led the orchestra through a rousing rendition of John Williams’ main Star Wars theme, we were treated to a medley of theme songs from some of the syndicated television shows of my youth, including My Favorite Martian, Lost in Space and Twilight Zone, after which members of the audience were invited to raise their hands to name at least four of the shows whose unforgettable music we had just heard.  It was a riot.

These Star Wars characters helped
put patrons in the mood for space
music

But the highlight for me was when George Takei took the stage to thunderous applause and, after bantering with the audience for a few minutes about how Baltimore compared to Los Angeles, narrated the introductory sequence to the original Star Trek series, “Where No Man Has Gone Before” as the orchestra played the familiar refrain in the background.  Then, just as magically, soprano Kristen Plumley, attired in Lieutenant Uhuru’s dress uniform, took her place on stage to intone the soaring melody as the orchestra enchanted the audience with the Star Trek suite. I was entranced.

Following an intermission, we were treated to compositions from The Day The Earth Stood Still, as well as additional works from Star Wars and Close Encounters. Each piece of music was accompanied by a laser show bouncing rays of colorful light off the walls and ceiling of the symphony hall. Altogether, the evening made for a spellbinding trip down memory lane – from the far reaches of the universe.
Cheers,
Lynell

“Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.” ~ Star Trek’s introductory sequence, narrated by William Shatner at the beginning of all but one of the series’ original episodes.

American Crafts

Kevin Loughran of House Jewelry, makes artisanal switch-
plates and doorbell covers, as well as other accoutrements
 for the home

In my opinion, the be-all, end-all to craft shows is the American Craft Council’s annual late winter show at the Baltimore Convention Center, the largest in the nation.  Since the first time I attended this juried event almost a decade ago, I have been blown away each year by the talent with which my countrymen (and women) are imbued.

This year’s ACC show was no exception.  And for once, Old Man Winter took a breather and allowed me to attend the event in heels and a delicate top instead of snow boots and an overcoat.  The crafts were absolutely amazing.

Over 600 booths filled the vast auditorium near Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.  Everything from textiles and art to jewelry, pottery and furniture was displayed to elegant effect. I always prepare myself to experience sensory overload.   Over the years, however, I have become accustomed to the sheer magnitude of what American crafters create out of their vivid imaginations.  So it was nice to overhear a woman exclaim to her companion upon experiencing the show for the first time that she was “overwhelmed” by all there was to take in.  Exactly.  Her comments brought back fond memories of my first time or two attending this fabulous event.  I smiled at the memory.

In celebration of the unusually mild February temperature, I pulled on a pair of BrazilRoxx jeans, handcrafted with copper studs and glittering embroidery, which I paired with a simple lace-trimmed cotton camisole by Eyeshadow and a filmy shawl by Sterling Styles, given to me by my dear friends, Robert and Jan, who themselves are loyal attendees at this event, although they always go on the day the show is open to shopkeepers who buy wholesale.  I rounded out my outfit with almond-toed platform booties from Spiegel.com, a pair of earrings with citrine and amber stones set in silver from Fire & Ice jewelers of Baltimore, and a matching necklace from Russia featuring a hand painted ceramic brooch.

These brass and copper switchplates
now grace several rooms in my home

For this year’s craft show, I planned ahead.  Long a fan of California’s Kevin Loughran, who makes what he refers to as jewelry for the home, I counted the visible switchplates and outlet plates in my 150-year-old farmhouse.  Many years ago I had purchased one of Kevin’s gorgeous, custom-crafted brass and copper plates for my dining room dimmer switch, and promised myself that someday I would buy matching switchplates for the other rooms in my home.   This was the year!

Throughout the afternoon I perused booth after booth of exquisite jewelry, clothing, blown glass objets d’art and fine woodworking specimens, eventually coming upon Kevin‘s “House Jewelry” booth.  Mr. Loughran was surprised and pleased by my order: eight single switchplates, three double switchplates and a half dozen outlet plates.  As I munched on a turkey wrap at a nearby table, Loughran’s staff collected my pieces from their show inventory and bagged them for me. I was ecstatic that he had them all in stock.  Talk about instant gratification!

Dennis Ray shows off
his beautiful creations
made from leaves

A few rows later, I came upon another cubicle whose contents I could not resist: natural leaves and acorns electroplated with copper, brass and gold and made into exquisite, one-of-a-kind jewelry.  I quickly gave in to temptation and placed a copper-covered oak leaf necklace at my throat.  It was breathtaking.  And it was from a Maryland tree!  The craftsman, Dennis Ray of Rockville, Maryland, locally harvests leaves and twigs for his business, Nature’s Creations, although he is happy to electroplate almost any leaf you send him from anywhere in the world.  I just had to have one of his unique pieces which, by the way, can be worn as a pin or as a necklace.

I love my new necklace!

As a longtime member of the American Craft Council, I wholeheartedly support these and other talented Americans who have made it their life’s work to create whimsy and beauty in our world.
Cheers,
Lynell


"Sometimes your heart speaks best through your hands" ~ The Knit Cafe

All Wrapped Up

There was a momentary lapse in the snowy, wintry weather.  I still had five inches of the white stuff on the ground, with another couple of inches forecast for that evening.  But for a sliver of a day on the 18th of February, the temperature warmed and the barest hint of spring was in the air.  I was ecstatic to be temporarily relieved of the bitter cold, and I’m a gal who loves the cold!

I grabbed the opportunity to shed thermal underwear, heavy outerwear and furry boots and don something a little more feminine for a change. Black moleskin gauchos from Rod’s Western Wear were on my mind, paired with a simple cashmere sweater that I’ve owned for decades, and a pair of super-comfy booties by Pink & Pepper that were loose enough to wear with thick ski socks. I would, after all, be walking across the long parking lot at the subway station on the outskirts of Washington D.C. on my way to a day of research at the Library of Congress, which meant standing on an exposed, elevated outdoor platform to await my train.  The temperature might have risen above freezing for a few hours, but the air still had a frosty bite.

My “statement piece” for the day was a dramatic paisley shawl, which I wrapped around my shoulders and secured in place with a small brooch. I received the cozy wrap as a gift from my dear friends, Robert and Jan, several years ago when they returned from one of their many overseas trips. Adding only some casual chandelier earrings made from orange disks to brighten my look, I declared myself ready to absorb some winter sun and headed out into the day.
Cheers,
Lynell

Visiting Anna

It was blustery last week when I made my way south from my home in Baltimore County, Maryland, to the Library of Congress in our nation’s capitol for a day of research on behalf of my employer.  I needed an outfit under which I could hide long underwear and thick socks for my 90-minute commute by car, foot and subway train through what was forecast to be the “seasonally brisk” winter weather so typical this time of year in the mid-Atlantic region of the United States.

I layered, of course, starting with a nice warm pair of moleskin gauchos from Rods Western Wear over thermal undies.  I paired the cropped trousers with a comfortable Bulgarian-made top with three-quarter-length sleeves by Tribal Sportswear which was a gift to me last year from my best friend’s mother, Joyce, in Spokane, Washington, over which I added a thick, knit poncho from Fritelli & Lockwood, purveyors of elegant hand-woven and custom-tailored garments, which I discovered at the Baltimore Convention Center’s annual juried American Craft Council show several Februaries ago.  I loved the fringed poncho so much I bought two in different colors and have never regretted the splurge.

With my brown attire echoing the barren winter landscape, I pulled on cognac-hued Zane riding boots by Brash, a recent purchase in New York City with unusual "outside zipper" detailing, and a chunky necklace of wooden beads that belonged to my mother in the 1970s.  I set out on my way. The air was sharp and freezing rain threatened, but I was snuggly in my woolens and knits.

On the way home from Washington, D.C., I stopped at a nursing home in Baltimore City where I recently learned resides an old friend of mine, Anna, a Morgan State university professor and scientist for the state of Maryland whose specialty, interestingly enough, is cement and concrete chemistry.  

Anna and I got to know each other as longtime volunteers at Soldiers Delight Natural Environment Area in northwest Baltimore County, which encompasses an unusual ecosystem known as the Serpentine barrens, home to 39 species of rare and/or endangered plants and animals.  Anna was fascinated by the flora and fauna of Soldiers Delight and spent time researching Serpentine chickweed, even writing a paper about it. Felled in recent years by a recurring brain tumor, Anna is bedridden now but no less keen in mind and manner.  I was anxious to see how she was doing.

We had a wonderful visit.  Anna was greeted warmly by the nurses who came in from time to time to check on her.  She told me she is treated well at this facility and is quite content.  I was pleased to see several pieces from Anna’s extensive art collection, including her own brightly colored works, adorning her hospital-room walls.

Anna and I used to volunteer together
at Soldiers Delight Natural
Environment Area

It might have been a bracing winter’s day outside, but my outlook was warmed considerably by sharing some quality time with a dear acquaintance. You know, it felt really good to lift the spirits of an old friend.
Cheers,
Lynell

Spicing Up The Season

The name McCormick is legendary in history. Originating in Ireland and Scotland with varied spellings, the root word is a Gaelic reference to Corb, which means raven, and Cormac which, translated literally, means charioteer or warrior.  It was a very popular name choice of Medieval parents, who added Mc to a like-named child to indicate “son of”.

I had the good fortune Saturday night to be invited to a housewarming party by Tracy and Christopher McCormick, a young couple who both work for 3D Exhibits, a Chicago-based company which designs and sells trade show booths  Tracy works in sales and marketing for 3D, while Chris is an exhibit designer who also sells.  Together, they create a formidable team of display booth talent which 3D is lucky to possess.  I met the attractive couple through my frequent companion, Jesse Turner who, in turn, owns a lighting, interior design and construction management company (LIDCM) which builds architectural models and exhibits of all kinds.  

In March of 2012, I invited Chris and Tracy to dinner at my house in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day. They brought their two-month-old daughter, Maya, and several bottles of fine wine. We all had a marvelous time.  In August of this year, with Maya and their 11-year-old son, Hunter, in tow, Chris and Tracy traded their cramped Baltimore row house for a spacious home on a quarter of an acre in Pasadena, Maryland. The rear of their new home looks out over the confluence of Rock Creek and the Patapsco River on the Chesapeake Bay. The breathtaking vista from their backyard stretches as far as the eye can see over blue water. It’s quite a departure from the limited sightlines of a Baltimore row house.  But the McCormicks’ new digs did not come without an investment of sweat equity.

Clouds and freezing rain obscured the view from the
McCormick's backyard on the evening of their party.
This is what you would see from their lawn on a clear day

The 1935 bungalow on which Chris and Tracy set their hearts had long since been divided up into apartments.  At the close of escrow last summer Chris set about tearing out walls and removing kitchens on each of the upper floors.  They reshaped the house into a single home, boasting a modern, free-flowing floor plan, with picture windows across the back to take full advantage of the lovely view.  Over the ensuing months Chris did all of the work himself and was still painting various walls which define the newly unified spaces on the day before their holiday soiree.

This 1935 house was broken up into apartments before
Chris and Tracy restored it to a single-family home

For my own part, I've spent the past few weeks feverishly preparing for an annual fundraiser for Soldiers Delight Natural Environment Area, a unique ecosystem of rare and endangered flora and fauna near my home in northwest Baltimore County on whose board of directors I have served for several years. I wasn’t certain I would be able to attend the McCormick’s housewarming party, so hectic were the days leading up to my event, which was to be held the day after the McCormicks’ fest.  But the holiday fates were kind and I was able to complete the staging of my benefit in just enough time to slip into something festive and make my way south to Pasadena.

I love the asymmetrical pattern
of the poinsettias and the sparkle
of the beads and crystals 

I chose to wear simple black leggings by HUE, a gift several years ago from my best friend, Kari’s, mother, Joyce in Spokane, Washington, which I topped with a vintage holiday sweater covered in crystal-embellished poinsettias by Victoria Jones. I pulled on tall black boots by Pleaser and some knit boot toppers which I’ve owned since the early 1980s, added some fun, jingle bell earrings, pulled a fresh-baked appetizer from my oven and headed out the door.

At long last the McCormicks were able to throw open the doors of their fabulous new home to all their friends. I was excited to see what they had done. While Hunter was occupied elsewhere for the evening, little Maya, who will be turning two in January, greeted guests in her mother’s arms.  The kitchen and dining room tables groaned beneath potluck offerings contributed by their visitors. I found a place to set my still warm artichoke dip and crackers while Chris poured me the first of many glasses of wine from carefully selected bottles in his well-appointed, climate-controlled wine cabinet.

Chris McCormick, left, added a granite-
topped island to their master bedroom
closet, just like I did to mine

I was quite flattered when, on a grand tour of the home, Chris was quick to point out that he and Tracy planned their walk-in clothes closet after seeing the closet I designed in my own ancient farmhouse. Indeed, I could see the trappings of my scheme in theirs.  

It was unfortunate that an icy rain fell most of the night, for it meant we could not venture forth into Chris and Tracy’s back yard to take in the expansive view.  Alas, clouds and sleet obscured even the view from the windows.  So we contented ourselves with admiring the interior of the home and Chris’s extensive handiwork.

While the Spice Islands corporation reigns as the seasoning purveyor of choice for west coast cooks here in the United States, in the mid-Atlantic, the McCormick spice corporation dominates. They seem to have a factory in every corner of Baltimore County. Even a visit to my local Honda dealership for an oil change is often met with the heady scent of cinnamon emanating from a McCormick facility nearby.

The McCormick family at Easter: Hunter, from left, Tracy,
Chris and Maya 

Chris does not declare any connection to the McCormick spice empire and I haven’t asked him if he is descended from Saint Cormac, the first bishop of Cashel who wrote the book of Psalms.  But I think it’s kind of cool that he and his lovely family reside in a region which claims the raven as their football team’s mascot.  As talented as Chris is on so many levels, he’d probably make a pretty good charioteer, too.
Cheers,
Lynell

Sparks

Pyrotechnics come to mind when I try to describe the unusual decoration on this sweater by Carol Horn Workshop which I wore to work Thursday to ward off the chill during my lengthy commute from my home in northwest Baltimore County, Maryland, to Washington, D.C.  If truth be told, there wasn’t much of a chill in the air on Thursday; a warm front had pushed through the mid-Atlantic region of the United States, bringing with it unseasonably warm temperatures.  In fact, the temperature was 71 degrees in the early evening when I made the trip home from D.C. to my little farmhouse in the ‘burbs, a record high for this time of year.

Meanwhile, a severe Canadian cold front, bringing with it sleet, snow and freezing rain, is pushing through the Midwest, from the northern plains clear down to the gulf of Mexico, and will arrive here on the east coast Sunday morning. So Thursday, as Mother Nature mustered barely cool enough weather in Baltimore to warrant a sweater of any kind, colleagues at my employer’s headquarters in Dallas, Texas, were suffering in 30 degree weather.  Talk about a reversal of fortunes!  Usually I am the one enjoying cooler temps whilst the Dallasites swelter. It was in deference to their suffering that I donned the knit wool.

Besides, I was in the mood for colorful fireworks when I pulled on this sweater, which was a recent gift from my dear friend and high school classmate, Becky Elisher.  She’d gotten wind of the boxes of clothes sent to me by my best friend, Kari’s, mother, Joyce, in Spokane, Washington, and thought I might enjoy this unusual pattern of beads and embroidery.  Bring it on!  I’ll wear anyone’s hand-me-downs as long as they’re attractive, in good shape and have a story to tell.

Carol Horn developed an
extensive line of easy
sewing patterns for Vogue

This piece definitely made the grade.  Not quite Christmasy, the festive sweater manages to evoke “celebration” without proclaiming any particular holiday. Turns out that Carol Horn is a vintage clothier.  Born in 1936, she began designing clothing for the Bryant 9 label of junior sportswear in the late 1960s.  A protégé of renowned sportswear designer Malcolm Starr, in 1983 Starr invited Horn to design her own collection, which became the impetus for Carol Horn Sportswear, Carol Horn Knits and Carol Horn Workshop.  The frizzy-haired redhead gravitated toward enduring ethnic styles with a decidedly Bohemian flair, such as jodphurs, caftans and Sherpa jackets.  The sweeping styles she made famous were constructed of muslin, gauze and natural wools. They were an instant hit, a striking juxtaposition to the fussy prints and highly darted fashions coming out of Paris.

Look how well my vintage
beaded earrings match the light blue
beads in the sweater!

And so this goofy-patterned sweater is now a welcome part of my vintage collection.  Evoking the very essence of the word “mod”, I paired the roomy turtleneck with beaded black leggings by HUE from Macy’s, vintage boots by Pleaser and some ice-blue beaded earrings from my grandmother that I converted to pierced from clip-on many years ago.

In today’s world of throwaway fashion, it’s nice to give something old a new life. I am proud to wear Becky’s cast-off and delighted that she thought to pass it along to me.
Cheers,
Lynell

“Glamour isn’t synonymous with couture.  It’s an attitude.” ~ Carol Horn

Red, Black and Chic All Over

I always do a happy dance when my best friend, Kari’s, mom, Joyce, sends me another box of hand-me-down clothing, and the box I received a couple of weeks ago was no exception.  Among the delights, which I will be featuring in coming weeks, was a red and black top by Clear Sky Petites, which still had the tags on it.  I happen to know there are no SteinMart stores near Spokane, where Joyce lives, but there is a SteinMart store in Dallas that Kari and her mom (and I) love to visit whenever possible, so this blouse must have been purchased during one of Joyce’s visits to Dallas to see her daughter.  SteinMart consistently has amazing bargains and quality merchandise. Whenever I visit Kari in Dallas, we always try to find time to buy a few fabulous things there.

I don’t know why Joyce decided she didn’t want this brand new blouse, but her wonderful generosity is definitely my gain.  I love it, and not just because red is my favorite color.  The oversized graphic houndstooth is up-to-the-minute and I adore the “twisted knot” of fabric at the bodice. I paired the top today with my favorite vintage black “travel” slacks from JCPenney, which I bought when I worked for the giant retailer in the 1970s during my college years in northern California.  I added comfortable black booties by Pink & Pepper, a black and red beaded necklace from Fire & Ice Jewelers of Baltimore, some drop earrings that are at least 40 years old, and a bracelet of painted wooden disks that I bought last year at Claire’s.

I can't say that the
badges I wear to
access buildings on
the NIH campus are
particularly stylish,
but wear them I must

Since the mid-Atlantic weather today started out rainy and mild but was forecast to turn clear and cold and windy by midafternoon, I added a rayon sweater by Elementz from Macy’s with ruched, three-quarter length sleeves and a gorgeously textured red knit scarf that I found at the American Craft Council’s juried craft show at the Baltimore, Maryland, Convention Center a few years ago. I carried my umbrella in my tote, which came in handy during my long commute by car, subway and on foot from my home in Baltimore County to the National Library of Medicine on the sprawling National Institutes of Health campus in Bethesda.

No sooner had I taken a seat in the library’s main reading room when one of the senior archivists came over to pay me a compliment on my outfit.  He has been assisting me in my research and seemed quite pleased with my choice of today's attire.  As a matter of fact, so was I.
Cheers,
Lynell

Open The Pod Bay Doors, Hal

When Stanley Kubrik’s epic film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, opened in American theaters in 1968, I went to see it – with my parents.  I was twelve, and going to the movies was still something of a family affair in those days.  The movie was a jolt to my tween psyche. I recall watching the Pan-Am space plane transporting Dr. Floyd to an orbiting space station, food tray items floating weightlessly through the cabin as the Blue Danube waltz played in the background, and was blown away by such realistic imagery of how travel might look in my lifetime.  2001 seemed so far in the future back then.

While I haven’t boarded a space plane for the moon recently, I do travel by subway to the Library of Congress and the National Library of Medicine every week as part of my job to conduct research for my longtime employer.  Although the Washington Metro trains, like most electrified third-rail systems, have a driver in the front car, the rest of the train is largely automated, with doors opening and closing robotically.  

Yesterday’s commute from my home in Baltimore County, Maryland, started like any other.  Brilliant sunshine backlit the autumn foliage at their peak of color.  Those leaves which had already fallen lay in a thick, undulating carpet of earth tones across my back lawn.  The air was crisp, although a touch warmer at 50 degrees Fahrenheit than the preceding few days had been.

A movie poster on display in
theater lobbies in 1968

I was all about celebrating those earthy hues, so I chose attire to highlight them, the individual pieces reflecting more than five decades of apparel-gathering.  I started with western-themed moleskin gauchos from Rods.com in a warm fawn, which I bought five or six years ago, and topped them with a vibrant yellow cross-collared turtleneck by Units, which I purchased on a shopping spree with girlfriends back in the early 1980s. Over the tunic I layered a vest which was handmade for me by Elaine Terrell, a talented seamstress in Dallas, Texas, who gave the vest to me for Christmas in 1995.  

I finished my look with cuffed suede boots by Wendi, a 2008 steal from Designer Shoe Warehouse (DSW), a long gold-colored pendant necklace that belonged to my grandmother in the 1970s, and a beaded cuff bracelet and chandelier earrings that I found at Cost Plus World Market last year.  Space travel was far from my mind as I bounded out the door into the sunny day.

The Washington Metro Subway trains run like any other.  As I departed one train at the L’Enfant Plaza station in downtown D.C., I knew I had only seconds to sprint down a set of escalators to catch my connecting train to the Library of Congress.  Two young women raced down the escalator in front of me.  The three of us were determined to make that connection.  I heard the intoning chime of the departing train, signaling that the doors would soon close, and the automated warning played through my mind that, “unlike elevator doors, these subway doors do not bounce back when they encounter an object”.

A final scene in the movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey

The two girls ahead of me leapt through the opening.  I followed just as the doors began to move.  I felt the crush of steel on each side of me, and my adrenaline surged.  With an audible “oomph”, I forced those heavy doors back open far enough to allow the rest of me to get through the narrow gap.  They closed quickly behind me.  I took a seat amid incredulous stares and assessed the damage to my body.  One wrist was bleeding slightly where the door’s edge had pressed hard against it.  A slight bruise was forming on my other forearm.  Other than that, I was unscathed.   My adrenaline, however, was still a force to be reckoned with.  My whole body was shaking.  I felt, in that moment, as if I could have lifted an entire automobile off the ground. 

What I did was reckless.  I had never before tested whether those subway doors would really “not bounce back”, but now I know they don’t.  I won’t be so foolish again. Another train would have been along in minutes to speed me on my way.

The doors on the Washington Metro Subway trains
do not bounce back when they encounter an object

For the rest of the day, all I could think about was the automation of modern science, the cybernetics of mass transit that have made travel so much easier and faster.  When the HAL 9000 computer on board the Discovery One bound for Jupiter erroneously predicted the imminent failure of a device that controlled the ship’s main antenna, Drs. Dave Bowman and Frank Poole began to plot to shut down the computer.  HAL resisted disconnection by killing all the scientists on board except for Dave. The two of them, one man, one computer, then engaged in an epic battle of wits that left but one survivor.  

As HAL famously said about his misdiagnosis of the parabolic antenna: “it can only be attributable to human error.”  I considered my folly.  I knew those subway doors weren’t going to bounce back, and I went through them, anyway.  Lesson learned.
Cheers,
Lynell

"Look Dave, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over." ~ The HAL 9000 computer, upon learning Dr. Dave Bowman is intent on disconnecting it.

Miramonte Reunion

High school reunions are frequently the stuff of months-long torment.  Will the same cliques still exclude me?  Will the cheerleaders still appear far more beautiful than I could ever hope to look?  Will any of the boys on whom I once had youthful crushes still cause my heart to race?  As the years go by, these angst-inducing concerns fade into curiosity of a different sort.  Who still has hair?  Who has made noteworthy contributions to society in their lives and careers?

On the occasion of my high school’s 40th reunion, all those questions and others wandered through my mind.  Two delightful classmates, Orinda Aquatics volunteer Margot Keenan and Hollywood actor Greg Cummins, worked tirelessly for months to locate far-flung students like me who graduated from Miramonte High School in Orinda, California, in 1974.  Margot and Greg organized a well-orchestrated shindig at our classic hometown venue, the Orinda Country Club, complete with a pre-reunion social at a local restaurant and attendance at Miramonte’s homecoming football game on the Friday night preceding the big do. Because our class of 325 students was relatively small, the grand reunion on Saturday night was combined with two previous classes, the graduating grades of 1972 and 1973, creating a logistical nightmare that Margot and Greg seemed to negotiate with the ease of seasoned party-planning professionals.

Greg Cummins, part of my high school
graduating class, is now a respected
Hollywood actor

I had purchased my cross-country plane ticket months in advance and had looked forward eagerly to all the festivities.  The week before the gala, my world turned upside down when my sister suffered a serious medical issue. In the midst of finalizing plans to host a dinner for 15 family members at my home in Baltimore County, Maryland, in celebration of a long-awaited visit by my cousin from Switzerland, I changed my plane ticket to accommodate my sister’s unexpected health crisis and made arrangements to be in California far longer than just for the reunion weekend.  Two days after the family gathering in my east coast yard (see Oktoblerfest), I flew to northern California to be at my sister’s side.

Leslie’s brain surgery, although not without complications, was ultimately successful, and after several days at her hospital bedside I was ready for an emotional break. Dressing for Miramonte's Friday night social, I pulled on my favorite pair of BrazilRoxx jeans at the tidy home of my brother, Dave, and his wife, Jane, in Walnut Creek, California. The ombré auburn hue of the boot-cut denim was perfect for a cool autumn evening; the embroidered flowers and metal studwork down the length of the legs really made the pants stand out.  I added a brown sequined tank top by Anne Klein for a little sparkle and then tamped it down a bit with an asymmetrical openwork shawl that was custom made for me by a talented designer at the American Craft Council’s annual juried show in Baltimore several years ago.

Eric Eckstein offered musical
entertainment at the Friday
night social

With sparkly copper baubles from Chico's at my ears and around my neck and wrist, I pulled on brown booties from Spiegel.com and drove my rented car to the old high school.  Teens, dressed in pink to honor a homecoming football game dedicated to breast cancer awareness, gathered in the Miramonte parking lot to cook hotdogs and gossip before the big game.  I walked across the grassy quadrangle, distant memories of pep rallies flooding my brain.  Small groups of middle-aged men and women talked excitedly in the school cafeteria as I entered the cavernous room to see memorabilia I’d been told would be on display.  People turned to look but no one approached me or waved hello.  The old anguish crept up into my throat.  I was a teenage outcast once again.

The new gym at Miramonte High
School is a bit bigger than the old one

I walked the perimeter of the cafeteria, gazing at the class photos of years gone by, at uniforms and trophies old and new, and pondered the passage of time.  I walked back out into the evening air and down the exterior hallways between buildings and classrooms, searching for the corridor that once held my locker.  Eventually I found myself back at the cafeteria door.  Couldn’t I be brave and approach the dreaded cliques myself?  Surely I had moved beyond such primal fear of schoolyard rejection after all these years.

I marched back into the cafeteria.  Almost immediately an attractive woman broke away from one of the groups and approached me, smiling. ”I know who you are from your blog”, said the reunion’s organizer, Margot Keenan.  At Margot’s earnest greeting, all my trepidation washed away.  Suddenly I was surrounded by old classmates who were greeting me warmly.  Some I could remember and some I couldn’t.  Several looked just like they had in high school.  I was amazed at how much -- and how little -- some things had changed.

As everyone began to make their way to the football field for the homecoming game (Miramonte trounced Acalanes High School in the final score), I climbed back into my car and drove to the tiny suburban center of Orinda, home to only 9,000 residents even today. Behind the historic Orinda Theater, where I watched Captain Marvel movies for 25 cents in my youth, was now the expansive outdoor patio of Barbacoa restaurant, where the Miramonte class of 1974’s Friday night social was just getting underway.

Doug Harlan, left, and T.J. Bergren
were in my class at Miramonte

There I met and marveled at the youthful vigor of many more classmates: Kim Severns and Katy Rand, Tish Gleason and Gail Brewer, Paige Ballard and Betsy Patmont all looked just as they had when we were 16.  I was in Girl Scouts with Sharon Cotteral, attended grade school with Cathy Stone, talked philosophy with Doug Harlan and T.J. Bergren.  I remembered how much older I thought everyone looked at my tenth high school reunion. Now everyone looked so young and fit.  We were a good-looking bunch of kids, I thought to myself with no small amount of pride.

Tom Taylor, pictured here at the
reunion, was kind enough to
walk me to my car after the Friday
night social at Barbacoa

As the evening progressed, I was joined by my good friends and former classmates, rental property owner Becky Richardson and gifted jewelry designer Lily Corrieo, who drove down from the California foothills near Placerville to attend the reunion festivities.  Guitarist Eric Eckstein entertained the growing crowd with classic hits from the 1970s as we noshed on tasty Mexican fare.  By 10:00 p.m., the exhausting events around my sister’s hospitalization had caught up with me.  I was walked to my car by my old classmate, Tom Taylor.  Funny, I hadn’t remembered Tom being such a handsome guy. I didn’t remember him at all, in fact.  That’s okay.  He hadn’t remembered me, either, he said, until he looked up my picture in the school yearbook the next morning.

The stately Orinda Country Club was
the site of my 40th high school reunion

On Saturday afternoon I checked into the hotel where most of the reunion attendees from out of town were staying.  I slipped into a one-shouldered dress by Bisou Bisou that I’d purchased last December for a Helicon Christmas concert in Baltimore, and plucked sparkly platform pumps by Rachel Roy from my suitcase.  With the addition of beaded earrings I’d picked up at a boutique in St. Michaels on Maryland’s eastern shore in 2010, a crystal cocktail ring I’d purchased in Las Vegas in 2011, a gorgeous crystal and beaded bracelet hand made last year by Lily, and a sparkly "Dea Dread" hair accessory custom made for me by Theo Osato of Baltimore, I sauntered down the third floor hallway and knocked on Becky and Lily’s hotel room door.

Lily Corrieo Williams, left, and Becky Richardson Elisher,
right, were high school classmates and have been
lifelong friends

As my friends put the finishing touches on their makeup and slipped into stylish dresses of their own, the three of us giggled like schoolgirls preparing for a dance.  In effect, that’s exactly what we were doing.  The anxiety of our teenage years may have been well behind us, but the giddy anticipation of spending an evening reconnecting with the people and memories of our youth sent our pulses racing.  As we climbed into Lily’s Mercedes Benz we could hardly contain our excitement.

The reunion unfolded much as I had imagined it would.  Classmates from near and far caught up on each other’s lives as we greeted old friends and made new ones.  I got the prize for having traveled the farthest, beating out even Peggy Hacker and her husband who flew in for the reunion from their home in Costa Rica.  296 people from the combined classes of 1972, 1973 and 1974 turned out for the event, with our class of 1974 forming almost half of the total attendees.

The next morning, ten of us met for brunch at an outdoor café in nearby Pleasant Hill.  Kim Severns passed around more yearbooks and contact information was exchanged among those with whom we’d been out of touch for so long.  It was hard to say goodbye when there was so much news to catch up on, so many life stories to share.

The back yard of Becky's well-appointed
home near Placerville looks out over
six scenic acres of wilderness 

Eventually, Becky and Lily and I piled into Lily’s car and traveled up the interstate to Becky’s lovely home in El Dorado.  This is where I would spend the next two days, unwinding from the trauma of my sister’s ordeal and reminiscing about the reunion just past.  But first, our attendance at the El Dorado German Club’s annual Oktoberfest was required.

In my rush to pack a week’s worth of clothing for my sister’s hospitalization I had neglected to include my own handmade dirndl, brought back to me from Switzerland in the 1960s when I was but a child.  Not to worry.  Becky had a spare.  We made the short drive to the El Dorado Stammtisch, where a traditional oompah band was regaling the crowd with time-honored folk tunes.  There, Becky’s mother-in-law, the eternally youthful past president of the German Club, Gretel Elisher, looked radiant in a lovely dirndl of her own as she rushed into the clubhouse kitchen with enough apple strudel to feed a small army.

I had a great time with Becky, right, and Lily at the
El Dorado German Club's annual Oktoberfest 

As the band played lively waltzes, we dined on bratwurst and sauerkraut, German potato salad and that apple strudel, which was really good.  Soon after, Becky and Lily and I found ourselves on the dance floor, kicking up our heels with Gretel and other patrons as a variety of old-fashioned polka dances brought everyone to their feet.  I felt the worries of the previous week slowly start to slip away.  Between the yodeling and the accordion playing, both of which my father used to do on a regular basis, I felt myself transported back to my childhood even further than the high school memories of the past few days.  This was nostalgia at its elemental best.  I couldn’t suffer beneath the weight of my sister’s health crisis when my inner child was dancing to a long-forgotten Schuhplattler.

Gretel, center, has been like a
mother to Becky for many
years

The next day Becky and I played tourists, spending a leisurely afternoon perusing antique shops and candy stores in old Folsom.  The autumn weather was glorious. I felt relaxed and well-rested for the first time in weeks.  In the evening we dined at a local restaurant with Becky’s husband, Bruce, his mother, Gretel, and their youngest son, Benjamin.  The next morning Becky drove me to the Sacramento airport for an early flight back to Baltimore.

This was my oh-so-comfortable room
at Becky's beautiful abode

I had barely arrived at my connecting gate in Denver before I was once again inundated with emails and phone messages regarding my sister’s care, which have persisted at a fairly steady pace since I’ve been back.  But for those few languorous days, immersed in childhood memories of high school and the years before, I was a carefree child again.  I was home.
Cheers,
Lynell