Thursday's Storm on the Lake

I stopped on my way to the grocery store a couple of nights ago to watch the storm and snap a few shots.  Lightning is hard to catch!

I want to practice more with low-light photography, whenever I can find the time....

NPR's State of the Re:Union Comes to Visit

Lake Erie at Mentor Headlands

A few weeks ago, my friend Diane Hoeptner sends me a link from Craigslist and says, "you ought to do this." "This" was an invitation from National Public Radio's State of the Re:Union show asking listeners from particular cities across the country to write a letter expressing their thoughts about their hometown or region. Sure, I'll give it a go, I said. 
 
Northeast Ohio has always been my home.  Nothing about living here is mediocre.  We roast in the summer and freeze in the winter.  In autumn, we revel in the bursting foliage, and in the spring?  Well, I count down the cold, cloud-covered days until I can get to the lake again, gaining hope as I see, finally, the leaf buds appear in the trees, the little wildflowers pop through the muddy grass.  When we're poor, we're poor (rated the poorest big city in the US in 2004), and yet we have treasures right here, among and within us, that truly can't be measured.

And so I sent in my Dear Cleveland letter to State of the Re:Union, and about a week later I received an email from its senior producer, Tina Antolini, saying that they'd be in Cleveland soon and they'd like me to read my letter for the program.  Below is that letter, recorded for them on July 25th.  It should be posted on their website (www.stateofthereunion.com) as an audio file in mid September, and may be incorporated into their broadcast, also to be aired around the same time.  I'll keep you informed!   

Dear Cleveland,

You're a beauty.  A beauty that, yes, has been abandoned by many in search of greener pastures and thicker wallets.  Nevertheless, you persevere -- you're a hard-working, gritty town, proud and tough.

Indeed, you're a tough city along a rough lake.  But you're not afraid to live with a moody Lake Erie, enduring her icy storms and Lake Effect howlings like a  husband endures a half-mad woman with PMS during a full moon.  You know she'll come around, in her time.  And she does, offering her cool tranquility during a summer's heat wave, providing a perfect place to watch the sun slip quietly below her waters, or slide down, raging, after lighting the clouds afire with pinks, oranges, and purples.

A while ago, you had enough of the Cleveland jokes.  True, you're among the poorest cities in the nation.  But, remember, you birthed rock-n-roll -- you've got soul.  And lately you have dug down deep to take pride in what other, more genteel people could already see.  Home to an thriving arts culture, your jewels include the world-renowned Cleveland Orchestra, The Cleveland Museum of Art, The Museum of Contemporary Art, University Circle, the Rock Hall of Fame, Playhouse Square, Karamu House, and a vibrant local art scene in neighborhoods like Tremont, Little Italy, Lakewood, and Waterloo.  

Art that moves the spirit is often born of pain and struggle.  Thank you, Cleveland, for offering so much that inspires my own artist’s heart.  Just as you do, I continue on. 

Sincerely,

Pat Washington

Kicking Up a Storm

I am eagerly awaiting the warm storms again. I've had enough snow for quite a while. This photo was taken last summer at Mentor Headlands Beach.

One Hundred One Days of Summer

Sophie and Nate at Mentor Headlands as a storm rolls in.  Aug. 2010.

Last month I was awarded honorable mention and inclusion in an e-chap book for my submission, Sweet Heat,  to the Dog Days of Summer flash writing contest, hosted by Michael Solender at his blog not from here, are you?  You can find the book here.   My writing is on page 47.

This contest was a lot of fun.  The rules?  Submit a piece of writing that is exactly 101 words (for the 101 days of summer) and include the words summer and heat.    Well....  After the summer we had, I was more than ready.  Creative juices flowed like sweat as I let loose my hot frustration on my keyboard.   And now, for your reading pleasure, here is my flash writing submission.

Sweet Heat

While lying in bed, I listen to the crickets sing for a mate outside my window.  Summer has peaked; school will start again soon.  Every year it’s the same – where has summer gone?  But I know….  It slipped away when I was merely bearing the heat of it, taking refuge in the conditioned air of my car and the office – in closed-up and artificial things.  But now, this night, I soak it in; I revel in the sticky warmth of it, knowing full well that the ache of winter is relentless in its approach.  Sing this woman to sleep, dear crickets.

August in Neff Park, Cleveland.

Mentor Headlands Beach

A Fish Story for You

I must thank my brother-in-law and newspaper columnist Burt Cole for providing the prompt for this post, as he recently shared a funny story about unwillingly sharing his pants with a garter snake while picking beans in the garden. So here is my "skinny dipping under duress" fish story.

Once, when I was a teen, I caught a 8-inch (or so, no time to measure!) fish up my swimsuit during a swim in Lake Erie. How might this happen, you ask? Well, in a wild, wavy session of body surfing in the lake, one is sure to get pebbles in places the sun doesn't shine. And so I sometimes I would swim out to shoulder-depth water and pull out the suit's leg openings a bit to discreetly free myself of them. Well, don'tcha know -- one time, just as I was out there pulling my secret little maneuver, a big wave came along and, whoosh!, so does a fish, right up my swimsuit! Being a lifeguard, I knew I shouldn't scream -- I certainly didn't need the added attention. But I do believe I may have squeeled just a little as I slapped my hand along my side, trying to get the thing to stop wriggling on the other side of that Speedo. Eww, eww, eww.

There was no way to get rid of that thing except to peel off my swimsuit, which is what I did, in deeper water, with only one hand, as the other was still planted firmly on that fish until I could actually let him go. Good thing I can tread water with no hands.... I guess I was so cool about the whole drama that no one believed me when I got back to shore. Not until I showed them all the shiny scales on the inside of my swimsuit when I got back home.

The Summer Is Going Fast!

Ashtabula Harbor. June 2009.