Wednesday, July 25
at the International Quilt Festival
in Long Beach, CA
- Today I rode on a tour bus.
- Met a fabric designer in her chic little store named French General on the corner of Allesandro and Riverside in Los Angeles. Had coffee with her mother in the alley behind the shop.
- Toured the Alexander Henry design offices and shipping warehouse in an old Coca-Cola bottling factory located in Burbank, CA. Watched the artists work on designs for fall and winter of 2013. Watched the history of a line a fabrics called the Ghastleys from the first sketches to the finished products. Had a shift in perspective towards whimsical, holiday or children-oriented fabric. Never realized how much artistic design and hands-on work went into light-hearted themes.
- Ate lunch at Phillippe’s, home of the French dip sandwich (unfortunately, this did not mean au jus.)
- Ate lunch at red linoleum topped table while seated on a stool. Enjoyed chatting with other quilters. When they left
- I finished my lunch with a Dominican priest and his student because they sat down after the ladies left. We met when I said amen to the priest’s blessing of the food. The Father was in town from Rome where he teaches in a pontifical seminary. He was born in Missouri. His student plans to be a parish priest. We talked about doctoral studies, my son’s decision not to pursue his doctorate, wrestling with God’s call on his life generally and specifically, how he decided that he felt God leading him to discontinue his studies at this time and his desire to get married and start a family. The priest was encouraging, stated that he recently had counseled a young man with wife and child not to continue in his doctoral studies because of the time and poverty it involved. I agreed. Once a man marries, his first obligation is to his family, his first ministry is to his family. I said to him that I understand his choice to devote his whole life to serving God. He liked that.
- I also asked the priest why they use two fingers to make the sign of the cross in the blessing. He said that the two represent the dual natures of Christ.
- On the tour bus, I made new friends. Some from Houston. Some from the LA area. One lady and I discovered we had something in common. Divorce. Her husband of 36 years left in February. We swapped war stories.
- Went shopping on Maple Street in the Fabric District of LA. Toured the “backstage” of Micheal Levine’s, met the owner and enjoyed learning how he got into the business (through a family member) and eventually bought out more people to become the owner. It’s a huge operation covering every aspect of fabric and design in the industry. Managed to buy several yards of coordinating Ghastley fabric.
- Left the convention center, walked across the street to a $1 book store where I found several out-of-print quilt books I need to study for an appraiser’s certificate.
- Went to the hotel to freshen up, ate some fruit from the farmer’s market and read, then drove back down to the pier where I had a small skillet of chili-smothered cheese fries.
- Walked down the Pine Avenue Pier and around the waterfront completely happy.
- Went to the hotel, locked the car, and went to the steps on the bluff to see the historic lifeguard house.
- Stood at the surf line and watched the way the incoming wave would hit the outcoming wave causing a sharp, cracking boom.
- Saw figures moving around the beach beneath the bluff on and around a two story concrete and block structure. I don’t know why the structure was there, but it a beautiful mural painted on the second floor, white seagulls the size of cars, a spanish styled building and doorways. At first I thought the painted entrances led into the bluff. It was after 10 pm and dark.
- Stopped to talk to two young men who sat a a picnic table what that was. They thought I meant what were the people doing. Turns out this was going to be the Wednesday night gathering of people from all walks of life, all ages, all attitudes come together to share intellectually stimulating poetry and music. And lager, wine, cigarettes and pot. Really stinky pot called Kush. They asked me to join them. For the poetry reading, not the pot.
- So I did.
- I spent over an hour standing in the sand listening to well-meaning poetry, some really good guitar playing, and some attempt at singing. I talked with Tyler, Chris, Clayton (who started this two years ago.) Camille, Johnny Hicks (a hipster, 23, said that he’s starting to realize just how stupid his brother is at fourteen and how stupid he must have been.) I can’t remember all their names. They were tickled that I wanted to talk to them. They were idealistic--we can gather here to celebrate our commonalities and our differences, to exercise our right to assemble and our freedom of speech, to support each other’s creativity, to be respectful and encourage. There was a lot of hugging. They hugged me before I finally walked away.
