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The Backward Life

“The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.” —Philip Roth

Jon pulled together a Kickstarter campaign recently to help him raise money to finish a sculpture piece in a series he is currently doing. I have been really impressed with the response. Not only did his project get funded, but it has exceeded the funding amount. People aren't just donating money, they are giving great feedback on the work Jon is doing. This type of response is so important to Jon. It has really helped him realize that what he is doing is important and beautiful.

I wish we could all put ourselves out there in this way and get so much positive attention and love from total strangers. Wouldn't that be a great way to live- unafraid to share your true self?

For more information on Jon's project see his Kickstarter campaign.

Warning – this post is fraught with run-on sentences and overt sentimentality. If you have an aversion to either of those things, you may want to find a blog to read where the writer is not suffering from a minor emotional breakdown.

I often complain about living in North Idaho. The winters are too long, the fall is too long, the spring is too short and the summer is often non-existent. I complain about the location (too far from my family), the strange people with strange ideas (I don’t believe you should have a shotgun with you when you go to the grocery store unless the butcher hasn’t gotten around to putting down your dinner yet), the ridiculous weather changes (yesterday it snowed, was sunny and rained all in the same 2-hour period and the wind almost blew our roof off last night), and the belief that a community is diverse because there is one kid in your child’s elementary class whose mother is half-Chinese (no explanation needed on this one).

Now that we are facing the very real prospect of leaving the Pacific Northwest, I see things I love about it all around me. Where else would a teenager, with no political interests, look forward to meeting an actual presidential hopeful (even if that hopeful is only Ron Paul)? In what other region do you find a hipster drinking coffee in a swanky café one minute and then turned out in camouflage to kill turkeys or deer or some other innocent creature the next? Where else would the following product sell big? (With the exception of Portland, OR, I am sure Moscow, ID has more than its fair share. I might have been tempted if I rode a bike, but alas, I do not.)


Everywhere I look these days I see things I am convinced I won’t find anywhere else (I’m sure this is not entirely true, but it feels that way sometimes). The Bagel Shop that claims to have invented the steaming process of heating their very delicious sandwiches, the sound of University of Idaho’s carillon chiming on the hour or playing different tunes for the seasons, the abundance of dogs walking with their owners or sitting at outdoor tables sharing scraps of their masters’ lunches, the feeling of safety when I send my kids to trick-or-treat on their own after dark, with little concern for their safety in our friendly community, the Moscow Co-op’s delicious vegan cupcakes and how I see someone I know everywhere I go. These are just a few of the things I will miss if we leave.


In Portland for Spring Break we got the chance to visit Saturday Market. (one of our favorite places to go.)  Moira pointed out several times though, it can't be Saturday Market if we are going on Sunday.  

For the first time in years we encountered an old friend at the market- Elvis.  Elvis has been a staple in Portland for many years.  When we first met Elvis he played a rubber guitar and wore a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. ***  This visit he was dressed up in his black, bedazzled jump suit playing an actual guitar.  Albeit, he only played one chord and the words to the songs were sometimes mumbled and incoherent.  

Maggie got the chance to sing the chorus to one song.  Our friend Tony told us the story of the one time when Elvis went missing.  Everyone in Portland was in an uproar.  It was reported in The Oregonian and people were worried.  He turned up a week later- turns out he went to Disneyland.  

We made sure to fill Elvis' jar with some bills and he then sidled up to Tony, put his arm around him and told him, "You know I do parties too, right?"

Awww, Elvis!!!

***when we get home I will post pictures of our first Elvis encounter.