Big Joy Thanksgiving

The table, just before soup course

We celebrated Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, again this year at Soundcliff (the house where Gordon and I live), as I have every year since I moved here in 1989. (Except the year that the house was under reconstruction, when we moved our ceremonies to James Broughton and Joel Singer’s house in Port Townsend, WA.)

As usual, we began at 1 p.m. and ended the Thanksgiving feast around 10 p.m. Before, during, and after the courses (everyone brought a course), people hiked, read poetry, asked questions.

Thanksgivers: Michael Hathaway, Chris Young, Shawn Boley, Whitney Kimball, Malcolm Dorn, Gordon/Belle, Orlando, Tom Pruiksma, David Mielke, Sequoia

Two poems were written for this occasion which I’d like to share. The first, our invocation, from Tom Pruiksma:

The Big Joy

for Stephen

I want

on this day

as they say

of thanksgiving

to give thanks

for love

and for joy

too little of either

in the world

that we’ve made

the world

that covers up

the world

but the joy

that we name

is not the joy

that we know

always

just beyond words

always beyond

what the eyes

can see

what a tongue

with practice

can say

like our friend

the little frog

outside the door

or perhaps

a little inside

the way we go out

or even

between walls

between worlds

his song

keeps our hearts singing

in spite of the new darkness

and descent

of the year

the fear

we won’t make it

this time

all fears

are really fears

of loving

and being loved

are fears

of getting the gift whole

no light

without darkness

and the terrors of seeing

no sight

without sunshine

in the eyes

listen

do you hear

what I say

no sorrow

without its own joy

say one

and the other is

even

in the saying

even

sailing out

from hearth

and from home

even

in the silence

before dawn

health demands more

than a little sorrow

or a little joy

a big sorrow

big enough

for big joy

big joy

a big joy

big enough for sorrow

the freedom

of the frog’s

lone song

and so

today

between past and

tomorrow

I give thanks

for the sorrow

that completes the big joy

the great sorrow

and great joy

beyond words

-- Thomas H. Pruiksma

11/26/2009

Orlando chats with Gordon and Michael as dishes are prepared

We had already had our first course, prepared by Whitney and Shawn, Michael and Stephen:

Bruscetta with avocado, sundried tomato, black bean garlic sauce

Guava chutney on pear slices

Salt and pepper almonds

*

Then:

Earth Root Harvest soup with roasted vegetables atop (David & Tom)

*

Green Tea Kombucha (Tom)

*

Jefferson County green salad with dressing, goodies & tomatoes (Malcolm)

*

Free Range turkey with golden dressing (Gordon/Belle)

Yams (Chris)

Brussels sprouts with bacon, cream and pine nuts (Malcolm)

Candied carrots (Shawn)

Gravy (Chris)

Guava chutney (Michael)

*

Water Kefir (Tom)

*

pumpkin pie (Whit)

marionberry pie (Whit)

pumpkin cake (Shawn)

lemon chiffon sparkling pudding (Michael)

*

After-dinner drinks (Gordon)

During the feast, some questions were put to the group:

· What do you remember about your childhood for which you are grateful?

· What’s your vision or dream for the future, and what are you going to do about it in the next year?

Friday's beach walk allowed us to mull over important questions with Puget Sound

On Friday morning, over Danish Ebelskivers, I read my Thanksgiving Poem:

Thanks and no thanks.

Thanks for aliveness that keeps us alive

Thanks for the ripeness that plumps us and pumps us

Thanks for the bounty of earth water fire

Thanks for the brotherhood burning inside us

Thanks for the questions that quest us inside

Thanks for the music that sings us

Thanks for the motions that speak when words don’t

Thanks for the food that sustains us

Thanks for the courage to go deep and wide

Thanks for the knowing to trust

Thanks for the fears we can carry inside

Thanks for the urges to thrust

Thanks for the wisdom that comes from together

Thanks for the palpable air

Thanks for the wealth of creation and loss

Thanks for the power to breathe

No thanks for the limits of kindness and patience

No thanks for the lack of good ears

No thanks for the eight years of Cheney and Bush

No thanks for the mongers of fear

No thanks for the shortness of days and of breath

No thanks for the corporate greed

No thanks for forgetting our gifts and our health

No thanks for blindness to need

No thanks for overpackaging

No thanks for undermining

No thanks for pollution

No thanks for silence on things that matter

Argentine spring

Tango is in the air in Buenos Aires's Boca neighborhood--and everywhere. Boca is famous for beautiful colored buildings and futbol (soccer). We were surprised to find how full of slums it is, too.

My first visit to the Southern hemisphere was in 1997, just when I started to find winters in the Northwest depressingly dreary instead of excitingly gray. It was a November trip to New Zealand and Australia, where I delighted in spring-soaked attitudes, Maori and aboriginal culture, different constellations, great food and wine, and lengthening days.

On my first visit to Buenos Aires, I was fascinated by the Sunday market in the San Telmo neighborhood. This time, I stayed just around the corner.

This fall, I’m fortunate to be basking in spring weather and long days in Argentina. It’s my second time in this country of vast contrasts, proud traditions, and beautiful people. (The first time, five years ago, I was doing some intensive consulting for a project of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and had too little time to explore Argentina.)

I’m exploring with one of my favorite travel companions, Edward Guthmann, who until recently wrote about culture for the San Francisco Chronicle. We’ve visited Cuba, Turkey, and Italy together in recent years.

Edward and Alfredo Ferreyra. Alfredo invited us to his apartment -- the second "home" we'd been in on this trip. Travel's always better when you know locals.

My first time in Argentina, I was fortunate to meet Alfredo Ferreyra, a sophisticated travel agent who showed me around Buenos Aires. He arranged for us to explore Patagonia on this trip – “fin del mundo” : the end of the world… and the world’s only glacier that’s not receding, El Perito Moreno. Two very different parts of Patagonia. And then there's Buenos Aires, which is an astounding city. As Edward says, "Why did it take me so long to discover Argentina?"

Alfredo lives in the Recoleta neighborhood of Buenos Aires, which also has one of the most gorgeous cemeteries I've ever seen. This boy likes his foliage.

The most famous grave in the cemetery belongs to none other than Evita -- Eva Peron, the actress who was married to President Juan Peron and about whom a musical and movie were made.

After a week in Bue, as they call it, we headed south for two destinations in Patagonia.

Here are a few more photographic highlights of the trip so far (I'll add more later) …

Normally, I dislike touristy dinner-entertainment packages, but the tango show we saw at an ancient tango-house in our own neighborhood was spectacular. We tried it at the recommendation of Michelle Moore and Annie Nixon, two friends of my neice Sarah with whom we had had a scrumptious Moroccan dinner. The performance inspired us to take a tango lesson the next day!

One of the great joys of travel for me is meeting unexpected new friends. Both Edward and I enjoyed hanging out with Mark Lee from Sydney, Australia -- and when we visited the Uruguayan town of Colonia del Sacramento, we were delighted when he showed up at a restaurant where we were lunching.

After a great week in Buenos Aires, we flew to "the end of the world" -- the planet's southernmost city, Ushuaia -- a former penal colony which sits on the Beagle Channel, which I think is pictured above, if it's not the Strait of Magellan.

While in Ushuaia, we took a boat ride that went by some blue-eyed cormorants (above), sea lions, and penguins

Our boat stopped at a fishing vessel, where smiling fishermen handed us a centolla, or King Crab, which is a premier delicacy of the region.

At an astoundlingly beautiful Estancia,or ranch near El Calafate, we feasted on lamb, watched gauchos herd cattle and sheep, and saw a sheep shorn by hand.

A visit to El Calafate and the amazing Glacier National Park allowed us to have an up-close-and-personal look at one of South America's biggest glaciers, and the only one on the planet that's holding its own in size and not receding. Here, you can see a chunk falling off -- it's calving, as they say.

Family Milestones

When Helen arrived in Seattle, we first had lunch at the Pike Place Market

When I look back on 2009, what will be the most important things?

Wow, it’s already been a jam-packed year. So much happening with Journalism That Matters, with the Big Joy Project, and with Youth-Adult Dialogues.

But I think our family milestones will be the key.

Gordon, Helen and I love to spend time together in Florida, in Minnesota, in Europe, and at Soundcliff (our house)

In 2009, Helen Silha, my amazing mother, celebrated a big decade birthday in May. She came to Seattle to visit Gordon and me, proclaiming that she wanted a quiet dinner with us to celebrate the occasion (rather than a big party my sister might throw for her in the Twin Cities).

Surprise! Alice Reimann (my sister) hugs Helen in a surprise appearance in our kitchen

Johnny Reimann, John Reimann, Helen Silha, David Reimann and Mark Silha about to munch on Salmon dinner at Soundcliff

We held the quiet salmon dinner – but surprised her with the whole family showing up. It happened exactly a year after a fatal accident nearly killed my nephew, David Silha Reimann, so we celebrated both Helen’s birthday and David’s astounding recovery.

David Silha Reimann and I prepare an Ebelskiver breakfast for the family

As if that weren’t enough to celebrate, we also marked a 50^th birthday for my brother Mark in July!

When Mark was born, my parents were told he probably wouldn't live past 18. We celebrate 50 and many more!

Mark loved the attention -- the cards, presents, and most of all the presence of good friends, old and new.

Mark and Gordon get down on the dance floor at Mark's great Soundcliff birthday party

Mark's cake -- a Gordonian bundt cake -- was marvelous!

Mark and I went to Camp Parkview for a week in August, and had a great time.

Mark and I hung out with 60 campers and 25 counselors at the beautiful Camp Burton land on Vashon

Dawn and Mark danced to the amazing inspired music of an Elvis impersonator

Master storyteller Merna Hecht transformed campers like Mark into gorgeous creatures

And now, this week, we celebrate the 25^th anniversary of the Silha Center for the Study of Media Ethics and Law, which my parents created in 1984 at the University of Minnesota, the day after Otto, my dad, retired from a career at the Minneapolis Star and Tribune Company. He was a Horatio Alger – he worked his way up from copy desk editor to CEO of the parent Cowles Media Company.

We commissioned this painting of Otto A. Silha and presented it to him at his 80th birthday celebration

And after he retired, Otto not only announced the creation of the Silha Center, he also created his consulting firm and worked on his futuristic City Innovation project until the day he died – September 11, 1999.

As a family, we are grateful to him, and to each other, on this and every day.

The road to Big Joy

Center of literary and political activism for many years, City Lights Bookstore anchors the North Beach scene in San Francisco

A white-haired man skateboarding down the street.

A nun with full beard and hairy legs carrying groceries.

A skinny man with tight jeans, a protruding crotch, knee-high leather boots, a leather jacket and leather hat.

An older woman dressed to the nines walking her dog.

Welcome to San Francisco, the city James Broughton called his home. These sights are commonplace here. I’m on the second of three San Francisco Bay Area shoots planned for the film, Big Joy, a documentary about “following your own weird” using the life and work of James Broughton as a lens.

The Beat Museum is home to art, photos, and history of the Beat Movement; Ferlinghetti was its publisher and 'shopkeeper'

You can feel the West Coast fog and smell the sea that were so important to James. You can feel the creative spirit that still lives in places like City Lights Books, the first paperback bookstore in the U.S. (1953), where we interviewed poet and artist Lawrence Ferlinghetti this week. (I can remember his book of poems A Coney Island of the Mind opening whole chambers in my imagination to possibilities of expression when I was in junior high school. What an honor to interview him in his office at age 90!)

With Ferlinghetti in his office above City Lights Books, Charlie Chaplin silhouetted in the window

I’m so glad to be working with veteran film director Eric Slade, who produced an award-winning documentary about Harry Hay, the father of Gay liberation, called Hope Along the Wind. We interviewed Armistead Maupin, who spoke eloquently about James's poetry, which his partner Christopher read to him when they were courting.

Eric Slade (right) with Armistead Maupin and his partner Christopher Turner at their home in San Francisco after a great interview on Sunday

We started this odyssey last November, at James’s gravestone in Port Townsend, WA, where his epitaph reads, “Adventure Not Predicament.” Making a film is indeed an adventure for this print journalist.

We were thrilled to get an interview with George Kuchar, underground filmmaker who taught with James at the San Francisco Art Institute in the 1970s

James was the father of West Coast experimental film, having made his first film, “The Potted Psalm,” in 1946. After that, he made 23 films and published 23 books of poetry.

James Broughton is featured in a display on gay and lesbian writers at the San Francisco Public Library (click on photo to read)

I’m making this film -- and creating the Big Joy website -- for several reasons. For one, I loved James. I met him in 1990 at a Radical Faerie gathering, and we became friends and mutual mentors. For another, I thought he was a master of images – words, visuals, music – and nobody under 40, it seems, has ever heard of him.


Plus, there’s his message to filmmakers and poetic livers: “Follow your own weird.” He goes on to explain: “But this doesn’t mean that all you have to do is turn on the camera and express yourself. Just as talking has nothing to do with creating, self-expression has nothing to do with art. ‘Anything goes’ may be therapy but that is only prelude to the shaping of what has been unloosed. For a painter the frame defines the shape of an image. A filmmaker must work within the fixed rectangle of the camera eye. Ideally this limitation focuses his imagination.”

One of many iconic buildings in the North Beach neighborhood, where James once lived and published books and did readings with people like Anais Nin and Michael McClure

So, the film making adventure moves forward. I realize that as executive producer one of my main roles is to raise money – eek! Not one of my favorite things.

So I’m shamelessly asking my friends, family, and admirers of Broughton to dig into their wallets and imaginations to help make this film happen. I’m convinced it will make a difference.

(If you are interested, please e-mail me at ssilha@comcast.net .)

The Beat Museum in North Beach

Gay Pride and beyond

Who ARE those masked superheroes on rollerblades?

I can't believe it's July already. Half of 2009 is over? Well, I've obviously been out creating a website and shooting a film instead of blogging. But summer's here and the time is right for gardening, filming, dreaming, scheming, and connecting with friends. I've marched in two gay pride parades in the past year, after 10 years of inactivity on the pride parade front. Both were astounding. Last September I marched with the Gay Island Gardeners in the first-ever gay pride parade on Salt Spring Island in British Columbia. And Sunday, I marched solo in Seattle's amazing Pride Parade. I was able to hitchhike and march with Rosehedge, the first AIDS hospice in Seattle, and be a beacon/sentry for the ACLU of Washington. The parade on Salt Spring Island was amazingly diverse -- lots of straight allies, a very joyous community feeling.

At the rally/concert after the Salt Spring Island Gay Pride Parade, everybody connected and many danced

Seattle's parade on Sunday was something else. Instead of a small community feel where everybody knew nearly everybody, it was a large community pageant. Tens of thousands of people. Many -- maybe half -- of the floats and contingents were corporate or commercial -- buy this or join that. Maybe that's why many people stayed away. At the same time, there were many longstanding traditions -- Seattle Men's Chorus, Dykes on Bikes, Bailey-Boushay House. And many political issues and candidates.

It was great to march in front of the ACLU, whose chant of "Be Yourself" went well with "Follow Your Own Weird"

Most amazing was the diversity of people: young, old, gay, straight, transgendered, multicolored. The media's power was on display as it's now obviously "cool" to be gay (in the wake of Will & Grace, Ellen, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy)... to display affection, to dance naked in the International Fountain, to show how affirming church congregations can be. And just when you think it's time to move beyond "gay pride" celebrations, you see rampant homophobia play out in schools, organizations, and communities. Yes, we've come a long way... and there's still lots of work to do.

OK, time to check out Big Joy.org!

Birthday Season

Tulips and sidewalks and sun (in Pittsburgh) -- oh my!

This season (as always) is so busy there’s not even time or energy to blog!

Blossoms are popping everywhere and new energy and creativity are in the air, when I’m not exhausted or overwhelmed.

Salmonberry blossoms grace Vashon Island at this time

The demands of Journalism That Matters (I finally got to speak about it at the Green Festival at the end of March), taxes, house/garden maintenance, and ramping up the Big Joy Project have made it difficult to smell the apricot blossoms.

Soundcliff (our house) in spring -- it doesn't get much better!

It’s a good thing I celebrate the entire month of April as my birthday, because the actual day was a disappointment – conference calls all morning, and packing all afternoon. The only delight was a beach walk with Gordon and a fabulous dinner of barbequed lamb, fingerling potatoes, and mustard greens.

But the trip that came next was amazing, and I may have to do several blog entries to do it justice. I flew to Pittsburgh, where my friend Dr. Owen Cantor, a well known dentist and cultural maven, picked me up at the airport. He whisked me to a floating gay gathering known as G2H2 – gay guys’ happy hour – which happens at a different straight bar every month. Then we went to an amazing Turkish restaurant with live music. Pittsburgh is the friendliest big city I’ve been to in a long time; when no tables were available, a group invited us to join them! We had a great time, and by the end of the evening it seemed like we’d known each other for a long time. A woman belly-danced.

The Czechoslavakian room at the University of Pittsburgh's amazing Cathedral of Learning, which dominates the Oakland neighborhood

Just one of many great birthday celebrations -- thanks, Owen, for the amazing time in Pittsburgh. I loved so much about it – the weather, the music, the healing of an industrial city.

And now the celebrations go on – Gordon and I heard Leonard Cohen in concert Thursday night in Seattle, and in early May we’ll witness the Seattle Opera’s production of The Marriage of Figaro.

This is always a busy time – the Open Studio tour in early May, followed by the Youth-Adult Dialogue and Media That Matters at Hollyhock. Whew!

Birth mirth
Easter feaster
Devilish dervish
Gardening fiend
Open to the new sounds
The sounds of reconciliation

Moonrise, Moonset

Amazing pitcher plants at Sarasota's Selby Gardens can catch and devour animals

Hourglass sand on Longboat beach
Slips through toes and memories
Heart pounds as waves burnish shells
And pound sand dollars into dimes

First love flutters when
Sounds of music and surf keep
‘Comin’ back to me’ ...

Florida’s not usually my favorite place, but I just had two great weeks there.

Howard Finberg and Ellyn Angelotti were our hosts and co-convenors at the Poynter Institute

The first week was the Journalism That Matters gathering at the Poynter Institute in St. Petersburg. It was extraordinary in that 85 people from all kinds of media (print, broadcast, online) and educators, authors and activists showed up and participated in a lively inquiry on journalism in the new news ecology.

Mark, Gordon, Helen and her good friend Jackie took a break from looking at Gordon's amazing bells

Then, Gordon and brother Mark flew in and we had a great week with my mother, Helen, at her condo on Longboat Key. The weather couldn’t have been better.

We even got to see my cousin Alice Deck and her husband Jerry -- traveling in their extraordinary mobile home-away-from-home

I was reminded of visiting that same beach as a kid, when the white sand was even whiter and it was easier to find sand dollars on the beach. I recall walking that beach when I was first in love, feeling more alive than I thought possible. Seeing sunsets through palm trees unlike any I’d seen before.

This time, I got to see the full moon rise from Helen’s condo on the east side of the key, and then saw it set while jogging on the beach the next morning. We all got a little sunburned, the kind that itches and feels good.

Mark and I had a ball swimming in the Gulf of Mexico on Longboat Key

It reminds me how important it is to spend time in nature every day, and how important it is to take breaks from our usual routines.

And despite some dismal economic news, I feel more hopeful about the future of journalism and the future of the U.S. given current leadership. It’s ironic, though, how complex new stories are emerging (not just in Washington) and mainstream media still for the most part don’t get it. They continue to try to polarize, oversimplify, and cover everything like a horserace. It’s a good thing there’s a new ecosystem of news.