Xander, John and I (Mary Melinda) had an adventure re-arranging at the cemetery last month. We finally got around to taking Grandma's ashes to the cemetery, but of course after the grave markers had already been placed.
When we arrived for the interrment, the hole for her urn had already been dug in front of the marker rather than under it. They said we could move it if we wanted, so we came back the following day with a shovel and crowbar to do just that. We tipped Grandma's marker (which sits right next to Grandpa's which is right next to my dad's, Michael's) and dug out the urn to replace it UNDER her marker. It looked like Grandpa's urn was not too far under his marker either, but it was close enough. Markers look very nice and we are content knowing that everyone is where they should be, as far as labels go.
John advised Xander, age 4, that if anyone asked what we were doing, we were looking for a gold watch. I'm very glad nobody came around, as John's sense of humor might have put is in a tight spot! : )
This cemetery is really amazing. Rich in history, beautiful, vibrant. Check it out.
http://www.friendsoflonefircemetery.org/info.html
http://www.metro-region.org/index.cfm/go/by.web/id=12696
http://www.yelp.com/biz/lone-fir-cemetery-portland
Dreams of home
Living at Grandma's house...continues in my dreams. From the time I was three, her home was my home at various times. Seven years of my growing up were spent at 7518 SE Milwaukie Ave, and a bit more later on, under her care. She took many of us under her wing over the years. The list also includes each of her adult children, my cousin, my brother, friends of the family, the many foreign students she housed and nurtured in the 70's, and at the very least a peacock or two. This home was hers and ours until we couldn't any more.
Sadly, the house no longer exists. It has been starkly replaced by a 10 condo structure so unlike the verdant, fruitful lot surrounding her worn in Dutch Colonial that this new imposition seems disorientingly untrue. There are no welcoming roses at the curb, no interesting persimmon tree drawing in intrigued passersby, no front steps leading to that door framing so many of our photos. There is a thin strip of barkdust behind the new parking area. This craziness sits atop where once were rooted figs, apricots, peaches, pecans, apples, quince, pie cherries, red currant, asian pears, plums, blueberries, thornless blackberries, kiwi, grapes, salal, raspberries, boysenberries, ground cherries, blackcaps, paw paw, rosemary, and of course persimmon. All this cultivation, ripeness, richness, variety, echoed Grandma's mind, history, and personality.
This space, this home, this feel, this rich architecture, continues to be the setting of my dreams. I am constantly surprised that Grandma's house is so firmly fixed in my dreamworld! Is it that much at my core? Will the backdrop for my unconcious mental machinations be rooted in this house forevermore? In my dreams I still find new rooms, floors and wings to the house. Dramas unfold in the kitchen, people need to be managed in the living room, we live out of the bedrooms, Grandma's things still need to be looked through in the basement. Home lives on in my dreams.
Sadly, the house no longer exists. It has been starkly replaced by a 10 condo structure so unlike the verdant, fruitful lot surrounding her worn in Dutch Colonial that this new imposition seems disorientingly untrue. There are no welcoming roses at the curb, no interesting persimmon tree drawing in intrigued passersby, no front steps leading to that door framing so many of our photos. There is a thin strip of barkdust behind the new parking area. This craziness sits atop where once were rooted figs, apricots, peaches, pecans, apples, quince, pie cherries, red currant, asian pears, plums, blueberries, thornless blackberries, kiwi, grapes, salal, raspberries, boysenberries, ground cherries, blackcaps, paw paw, rosemary, and of course persimmon. All this cultivation, ripeness, richness, variety, echoed Grandma's mind, history, and personality.
This space, this home, this feel, this rich architecture, continues to be the setting of my dreams. I am constantly surprised that Grandma's house is so firmly fixed in my dreamworld! Is it that much at my core? Will the backdrop for my unconcious mental machinations be rooted in this house forevermore? In my dreams I still find new rooms, floors and wings to the house. Dramas unfold in the kitchen, people need to be managed in the living room, we live out of the bedrooms, Grandma's things still need to be looked through in the basement. Home lives on in my dreams.
Memorial Get Together, Saturday, 1/16, at 1pm
We will have an informal gathering in memory of Grandma, everyone is welcome to come see pictures and chat with eachother. No need to dress fancy. Just bring yourself as you are, with any stories or thoughts you'd carry with you to such an occasion in her honor. Share as much or as little as you like.
You are welcome to post any comments to this blog, if you are comfortable sharing with the rest of us in this way!
MEMORIAL GATHERING
Saturday
January 16, 2010
1pm - 4pm
Architectural Heritage Center
701 SE Grand Ave
Portland, OR 97214
http://www.visitahc.org/
If you need to call the center for directions or parking info:
503-231-7264
Parking Options:
~John, 503...329...2157
You are welcome to post any comments to this blog, if you are comfortable sharing with the rest of us in this way!
MEMORIAL GATHERING
Saturday
January 16, 2010
1pm - 4pm
Architectural Heritage Center
701 SE Grand Ave
Portland, OR 97214
http://www.visitahc.org/
If you need to call the center for directions or parking info:
503-231-7264
Parking Options:
- On street parking is available, but may be limited.
- There is handicapped/senior parking available at the gas station next door if you let them know you're at the Architectural Heritage Center.
- There is off-street parking a couple of blocks away at the small triangular lot on the NW corner of SE Grand @ Yamhill St (enter off Grand) directly north of Arvey’s Office Supply at the Morrison Bridge off-ramp.
~John, 503...329...2157
Brief Obituary
Marjorie Myrtle Riley
Marjorie was born in Raymond, WA on March 24, 1920 and died peacefully at the home of her faithful caregiver, Kathy Gotur, on January 5, 2010. She was the eldest of eight children born to Carl and Marguerite Wooldridge. The youngest sibling, Corley, was also born on March 24, in 1941.
She married Carol Leon Riley on December 11, 1947, and raised three sons:
Michael Andrew Riley, born August 28, 1949, who preceeds her in death,
Scott Lynn Riley, born September 21, 1953 of Shenzen, China.
John Carol Riley, born July 13, 1952 of Portland, Oregon.
Marjorie worked as a sign painter at Roberts Brothers Department store and Lipman Wolf Department store in Portland, OR during WWII. After raising her children she also worked for many years at Hudson House Food Products, finishing her career by working at PSU.
She was multi-talented and excelled in sewing, quilting, art and many other fields.
She loved gardening and learning the culture and languages of other countries.
Marjorie was born in Raymond, WA on March 24, 1920 and died peacefully at the home of her faithful caregiver, Kathy Gotur, on January 5, 2010. She was the eldest of eight children born to Carl and Marguerite Wooldridge. The youngest sibling, Corley, was also born on March 24, in 1941.
She married Carol Leon Riley on December 11, 1947, and raised three sons:
Michael Andrew Riley, born August 28, 1949, who preceeds her in death,
Scott Lynn Riley, born September 21, 1953 of Shenzen, China.
John Carol Riley, born July 13, 1952 of Portland, Oregon.
Marjorie worked as a sign painter at Roberts Brothers Department store and Lipman Wolf Department store in Portland, OR during WWII. After raising her children she also worked for many years at Hudson House Food Products, finishing her career by working at PSU.
She was multi-talented and excelled in sewing, quilting, art and many other fields.
She loved gardening and learning the culture and languages of other countries.
Her name changes
Grandma's name on her birth certificate is Marjorie Myrtle Wooldridge, however she always considered that her middle name was Almina. In her baby book, her mother put her middle name as Almina, adding a note that it was Myrtle on her birth certificate.
After her marriage and subsequent name change to Riley, she substituted Wooldridge as her middle name and signed her name Marjorie W. Riley.
After her marriage and subsequent name change to Riley, she substituted Wooldridge as her middle name and signed her name Marjorie W. Riley.
On the Job
Marjorie worked as a sign painter at Roberts Brother Department Store and Lipman Wolf Department Store in Portland, Oregon during World War II. During her time at Lipman Wolf & Co, Their Reporter Newspaper Vol ll, No. 14 dated April 4, 1942 printed the following: The Revolving Reporter...
"Borrowed a piece of cardboard and made another discovery---Expecting surely to find a "Life Size" man in charge of our Sign Shop when I leaned over the shop gate to make my request---I noticed only a little girl---Just thinking it was the Sign Writer's daughter, I inquired "Is the man of the House in?" This petite bit of femininity brightly answered "I'm doing the sign work now"---I gulped twice,almost. By putting my eye and ear to the key hole I found she was really holding down the man size job--- and doing a swell job too---so if you see this little dimpled miss--- wooden shoe--curls, etc. going around the store with a sign card in her hand, well it's Marjorie Wooldridge---Our latest to the Hall of Fame. "
Her first job in the city (Portland, after moving away from the country in Battleground, WA) was as a nanny for a wealthy family. At about the time of the war, she worked for architects for a time, which she loved but as it also left her hungry, she worked the swing shift typing for Commercial Iron Works in the Navy Building. When the swing shift gave out, she got a drafstman position in piping, working in a small department with mostly women in their forties. She always described this as her job in the shipyards. Sometime after this, she did office work part-time while going to school in the evenings. This led to an interest, and a job, in photo finishing, where she met her future husband, Carol. Sometime in the preceeding years she immersed herself in Russian studies and Chinese language studies, as well, becoming involved in both communities in Portland. After marriage, while her children were young, she operated her own daycare out of her home, which at the time was a very tightly regulated occupation. Afterwards, she worked many years for Hudson House and later for Norpac. Post-retirement, she worked part-time for the City of Portland as well as at PSU.
"Borrowed a piece of cardboard and made another discovery---Expecting surely to find a "Life Size" man in charge of our Sign Shop when I leaned over the shop gate to make my request---I noticed only a little girl---Just thinking it was the Sign Writer's daughter, I inquired "Is the man of the House in?" This petite bit of femininity brightly answered "I'm doing the sign work now"---I gulped twice,almost. By putting my eye and ear to the key hole I found she was really holding down the man size job--- and doing a swell job too---so if you see this little dimpled miss--- wooden shoe--curls, etc. going around the store with a sign card in her hand, well it's Marjorie Wooldridge---Our latest to the Hall of Fame. "
Her first job in the city (Portland, after moving away from the country in Battleground, WA) was as a nanny for a wealthy family. At about the time of the war, she worked for architects for a time, which she loved but as it also left her hungry, she worked the swing shift typing for Commercial Iron Works in the Navy Building. When the swing shift gave out, she got a drafstman position in piping, working in a small department with mostly women in their forties. She always described this as her job in the shipyards. Sometime after this, she did office work part-time while going to school in the evenings. This led to an interest, and a job, in photo finishing, where she met her future husband, Carol. Sometime in the preceeding years she immersed herself in Russian studies and Chinese language studies, as well, becoming involved in both communities in Portland. After marriage, while her children were young, she operated her own daycare out of her home, which at the time was a very tightly regulated occupation. Afterwards, she worked many years for Hudson House and later for Norpac. Post-retirement, she worked part-time for the City of Portland as well as at PSU.
Surviving the Vanport Flood, 1948
Marj and Carol lived at Vanport Oregon in 1948 at the time the Columbia River flooded the area. She related the following about the flood:
"VANPORT: MAY 31, 1948.. It was Sunday morning, and I was getting together my sterling silver and important papers in a basket because a paper left under our door that morning advised that if the dike holding back extra high waters from the Columbia River should break, we would be notified and would have several hours to leave the area. Carol, my husband, was working in downtown Portland at United States Rubber Co. helping pump flood water out of the basement. When he heard by radio that the dike was breaking at Vanport he ran out, got on the last bus at that time to Vanport and found it already flooded. He helped others screw water hoses together and throw them out to stranded people on the roofs of the 2-story apartment buildings that were floating by so they could pull them close enough for the people to get off.
At the same time, his brother Joseph in Vancouver, WA just across the bridge had heard the radio bulletin and went immediately to Vanport. Finding he was too late to help me, since the highway had already gone out, he stood at the closest point to the highway break and took a series of three pictures recording further advance of the water. Those pictures happened to be the only ones taken on the spot and appeared in Life magazine.
In the meantime, my electricity had gone off and I suddenly realized there was a wall of water coming our way from the north. It was filled with buildings, trees and all sorts of debris. I heard the honking of a little old vehicle outside my door and ran out to find an older couple who had been working in the shipyards. They had filled their car with their belongings that morning. I jumped on the running board, the basket over my arm, and we managed to get out. Later, I found that my feet had been dyed black from the flood waters. I walked many blocks to my mother-in-laws house where eventually my husband came also. A sister-in-law lived in Vanport, also, but was visiting her mother at the time. She didn't believe me when I phoned to tell her that her home was gone. Nothing from that apartment building was ever found. There were several deaths--mostly older people who had stayed in their buildings.
Two months later we went back with my brother Bud, who had an army duck and with the accompaniment of guards we took out bedding and clothing and took them to my mother's back yard where she washed and gagged at the horrible odor of them, and hung them on the clothesline where they promptly fell apart from the chemicals in the water. I have only a plate or two that survived, but part of the gold trim on them is gone."
"VANPORT: MAY 31, 1948.. It was Sunday morning, and I was getting together my sterling silver and important papers in a basket because a paper left under our door that morning advised that if the dike holding back extra high waters from the Columbia River should break, we would be notified and would have several hours to leave the area. Carol, my husband, was working in downtown Portland at United States Rubber Co. helping pump flood water out of the basement. When he heard by radio that the dike was breaking at Vanport he ran out, got on the last bus at that time to Vanport and found it already flooded. He helped others screw water hoses together and throw them out to stranded people on the roofs of the 2-story apartment buildings that were floating by so they could pull them close enough for the people to get off.
At the same time, his brother Joseph in Vancouver, WA just across the bridge had heard the radio bulletin and went immediately to Vanport. Finding he was too late to help me, since the highway had already gone out, he stood at the closest point to the highway break and took a series of three pictures recording further advance of the water. Those pictures happened to be the only ones taken on the spot and appeared in Life magazine.
In the meantime, my electricity had gone off and I suddenly realized there was a wall of water coming our way from the north. It was filled with buildings, trees and all sorts of debris. I heard the honking of a little old vehicle outside my door and ran out to find an older couple who had been working in the shipyards. They had filled their car with their belongings that morning. I jumped on the running board, the basket over my arm, and we managed to get out. Later, I found that my feet had been dyed black from the flood waters. I walked many blocks to my mother-in-laws house where eventually my husband came also. A sister-in-law lived in Vanport, also, but was visiting her mother at the time. She didn't believe me when I phoned to tell her that her home was gone. Nothing from that apartment building was ever found. There were several deaths--mostly older people who had stayed in their buildings.
Two months later we went back with my brother Bud, who had an army duck and with the accompaniment of guards we took out bedding and clothing and took them to my mother's back yard where she washed and gagged at the horrible odor of them, and hung them on the clothesline where they promptly fell apart from the chemicals in the water. I have only a plate or two that survived, but part of the gold trim on them is gone."
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