My darling Clementine finally tracked me down this evening and as we were catching up she asked what I’d been up to lately.  I took a big breath and…. well, I don’t really know.  I’ve been really busy with something.  I’ve been doing something, right?  I feel all stressed and crazy, but it is hard for me to quite grasp why that might be.

One of the big things that is taking up a lot of time is my new “volunteer of the year” teaching plan.  I don’t know who developed this one… it wasn’t necessarily good.  The thing is that our little school finally got a kiln.  I am somewhat responsible for that happening and I am proud of that.  Sometime around January I sent out an email to all the teachers saying that I would come into their classes and lead ceramics projects in the hopes that everyone would start to utilize this tool.  I didn’t hear much from them back then, but now that it is nearly the end of the year, everyone wants me and guess what?  It is a lot of work.  The classes themselves are not too time-consuming.  They usually take about an hour and a half.  It is the prep and the clean up that is the killer though.  Each class requires that I wedge the clay that is about to be used—- that’s 30 balls of clay.  I wedge fairly quickly, but that is still a good 45 minutes of work.  Hauling things hither and yon is time consuming too.  I have some supplies at school, some things in the art room or the kiln room, and those two places are nowhere near each other.  When the class finishes its work, there are 30 pieces of art to find room to store.  That sounds simple, but it is no small feat.  And then when the work is done there is loading and firing and checking on the kiln.  All these little things add up to a lot.

Okay, big segue here–

I did finish Brian Doyle’s Mink River lately.  Great book about a fictional town in Oregon that by my read of the local landscape is just about where Neskowin or maybe Neahkanie would be.  The town is almost right, although Brian Doyle not being from those parts tends to make it sound much prettier than it could possibly be.  No story about those rural parts of Oregon is complete without a lot of single-wide trailers.  And ugly houses barely hanging on with tons of cars and scrap metal in the yard.  And mean dogs.  And signs that say “Rabbets for sale: pet or meet”.  And the town had a “pub” which is wrong, wrong, wrong.  It would be a dark, windowless “tavern” and we all know it.  Why in Willamina, the tavern is called “Dillon’s”.  Poor guy can’t even spell his own name; he certainly wouldn’t work in something as European sounding as a “pub”.

Anyway, I loved the book and am very proud of Brian Doyle, Portland author made good.  Doyle likes lists… a lot.  So in order to organize my reflections of my business, I shall list what I’ve done this week.

Monday- run, shower, yell at kids, pack lunches, move ceramics around, haul 50 pounds of clay (on my bike!), drink coffee with neighbors, meet the assessor, oh-it’s-hot-out, go to school, fire the kiln, grab Francis, lunch with Inez and Francis, doctor’s appointments, shots-shots-shots, run to the library, pick up Zephyr, pick up clay for home, drink a beer with neighbor, help Francis make dinner, meet Anne, make art, put kids to bed.

Tuesday- why is my arm all hot and swelling up to twice its size, stupid bee sting from Sunday, put toothpaste on it, put lotion on it, put alcohol on it, put Queen Helene mint masque on it, what time is it anyway? (3am), go back to sleep, wake up, try to get kids off to school, nope—no bike train leader, okay, be the bike train leader, ride kids to school, ride them to “Safe Routes to Schools” event ’cause we heard there were donuts, eat donuts, yell at kids, now ride them to school, check kiln, still too hot, go home, haul rocks, work in yard, mow lawn, paint bat house with Inez, nap Inez, laundry, laundry, laundry, hang laundry, pick up Zephyr and Francis, play outside, harass Zephyr about violin, keep kids from dying on bikes in road, yell at kids, visit with neighbors, cook salmon, release chicken from raccoon trap, mess with broken shed door, move tools around, try to convince Zephyr to quit crying, try to convince Zephyr that he DOES NOT have a dance recital that night, try to comfort Zephyr, threaten to put Zephyr to bed instantly if he does not quit howling, talk to neighbors (“he didn’t have a dance recital, right?”—he didn’t), OH THANK GOD ALMIGHTY BRAD HAS RETURNED FROM HIS BUSINESS TRIP!  Take a benedryl for my arm which makes me so high that I can’t hold my eyes open.  Asleep by 9pm.

Wednesday- what is that racket?  Cat in raccoon trap ripping apart the thing, make breakfast, make coffee, late opening means kids are home 2 more hours, work outside, sweep walk, hose down walk, finally pick up bat house painting supplies, fill washtub with dirt, plant snap peas with kids, plant cucumbers, water, water, water, try to take kids to school–whoops too early, take kids to school, walk to cafe, meet Kendall, drink coffee and relax, walk home, babysit neighbor kid, plan curriculum for volunteer class at church, read disconnected story in The Sun magazine, look at neighbor’s photo albums, pick up kids, lose kids while talking too long to a teacher, talk to another teacher, talk to another teacher, plan ceramics classes for tomorrow, open kiln, distribute work, get impatient with crying children, walk home, finally make peanut butter sandwich for “lunch”, turn around for violin lesson, learn about wrist angles, come home irritated and exhausted, contemplate weird food in refrigerator, what can I do with celeriac cheese and beer?, babysitter shows up early (yes!), leave her with problem of dinner, go out to dinner with Brad, go to gospel choir….

I am tired of my lists.  I am going to bed.

Sometimes I meet a kindred spirit.  Here is how I recognize them— they stand in my kitchen holding a coffee cup, contemplating what is in their hand.  Then they say seriously, “I really love this mug.”

I love mugs too!  Really I do!  I’m not sure if it is my love of ceramics or my love of coffee and tea that translate to a general affinity for a good coffee mug.  It has to be smallish, (although I have one HUGE one), sturdy and smooth.  The glaze has to feel good in the hand.  The handle has to be the proper proportion to my hand, which is on the small side.  The mug can’t be tacky or commercial or crass, after all I am going to be spending a great deal of time with it in my life.

Above are some of my favorites.

Little Blue came from a thrift store.  It was 25 cents and worth every cent.  I like how round it is.  It fits perfectly in my palm.  It is also a favorite of my friend Juan (definitely a kindred spirit).

Green and Gold was purchased at a Saturday Market (I think in Eugene).  It also has a nice round butt on it.  I like the glaze and how the midpoint between the top and the bottom has a oxidized shine.

Peaches was given to me for Christmas by the director of staff at Covenant House Toronto while I was volunteering with homeless kids after college.  It was so meaningful to be given a mug when I was so far away from everything familiar and owned nothing of my own.  I was really thrilled with this gift and so happy to be appreciated by this upper management businesswoman.  I think she knew that it was hard to be away from home for Christmas.  I think of Covenant House whenever I use this mug.

Allann Bros cafe in Eugene was a big part of my life, both in college and after.  I wrote many a last minute paper there at 5:30 in the morning before racing to the computer lab to type it out.  (Ha!  See that?  Back then we actually got through college without computers of our own!).  My sister Kirstin gave me this mug when I went to Canada.  16 years later it is still looking good and I still love it.  Allann Bros still sells mugs in their cafes, but they changed their designs and style of mugs and they are not nearly as cool.

I got the Peacock Polish mug to match the gorgeous tea pot that Brad gave me for Mother’s Day one year.  This design is still really appealing to me.  It is simple but elegant.  The cup is bell shaped and holds a lot of coffee!

The next two mugs are by the same potter and using a similar glaze scheme but with different colors.  I found the first mug (with the burgundy bottom) at Mossy Creek Pottery at the coast about 12 years ago.  I think I just bought it because I liked it, which is weird for me as back then I had little money and less reason to go buy myself nice things.  The second one I found last summer in a gallery in Ashland.  This potter really gets his work around!  I respect that he is still doing the same design.  It is a good one–reminiscent of mountains and sea and sky.  The second cup is truly massive.  I don’t often drink coffee in it.  It is too big for that.  But it does fit a lot of beer and serves as a sort of classy stein!

Kindred spirits, come and have coffee or tea with me.  I have the perfect mug.

The first day I thought I would let the kids touch and mess around to their hearts’ content.  It is sort of  hard for me to turn over control when I only have 10 weeks of instruction, but it seemed wise to let them mess around now before we launch into real building.  I gave them the assignment of making a magical place to go on vacation to.  They needed high places and low places.

This is a cliff with snake holes (complete with snakes!).

Here is an arch with vines and a tree.  Zephyr was in class that day, although he won’t be for the rest of the term.  The kid is only 5 and can’t handle that we will be smashing some projects.  I’m moving him to theater!

This is a savanna scene.  Obviously, none of this would hold up well if fired, but experimentation was the goal here, not end product.

The students really enjoyed playing without much guidance.  The room became relatively mellow, with most of the conversation just expressions of excitement for each other’s inventiveness and desire to show off their ideas to me.  I know the days will come when there are tears of frustration and heartbreak at the limitations of clay, but for now, it is all good times.

Really, I do have students in there besides my kids, but until I get formal permission to picture them, I am cropping those babies out!

Best thing about the new class?  I get to work in the art room.  The teacher gave me two whole shelves!  Imagine that!  She totally needs every inch of storage she can get, but she generously gave me two whole shelves!  There is a sink there.  Yeah, really, I know!  Don’t I sound like a public school teacher, rapturous about a sink?  And I hate to admit it, but the teacher there is messier than me, so I don’t have to worry too much about annoying her too much.  Anything I do in her room is seriously making it cleaner, not messier.

Worse thing?  Ummmm… see that clay there?  I got two huge bags of it for free a few years ago.  I knew that it was some fancy clay from Georgies, but I didn’t do my research before having the kids do an actual project with it during week 2.  I thought I was saving money, being prudent.  Turns out that : “The coarsest of all our sculpture clays, this body contains two types of coarse sand plus nylon fiber. The character of this clay comes from the basalt sand that bleeds out when it fires.”  That is code for “this clay will spit out chunks of melty stuff that will stick all over your kiln shelves when you fire it”.  It requires a process called “wadding” which I have never done and am not really sure how to do.  Well, crap.  I’m so glad I got it for “free”.  Now I need to hop off to the store and buy kiln wash and wadding material which sounds like a chemistry experiment.

All the same, clay is awesome.

Most things that I decide take me about 2 years to put into action.  I am now running regularly (which I resolved to do 2 years ago).  I should start meditating/praying more regularly (but I have another year to go on that one).  I am a couple years late to start those guitar lessons, (any minute now though!).  Normally I would put this one off for as long as possible.  I don’t like pain much and I like looking stupid even less.  My husband pointed out though that if I was intending to return to teaching soon, I might want to do it AFTER I had the braces, not during.  It’s painful enough to deal with teenagers.  They will all have braces.  You don’t want braces too.  Good point.

I have had some sort of interesting comments since getting braces.  A few people have said, “Your teeth weren’t even crooked”, which I know is their way of being kind.  They are trying to say that they didn’t sit across from me and obsess about my crooked teeth.  But I don’t want to hear that at all.  The whole braces thing is sort of bothersome and I feel like a stupid teenager, so of course I want to BELIEVE that it is all worthwhile.  The comments I have most appreciated have been from my friend who said, “Yeah, I always wondered if you were ever going to do anything about your teeth.”  And my husband said, “Yeah, they are sort of crooked.  You’re totally cute, but if you want to do something, you should do something now.”  Thank you.  No, really.  Thank you.  I want to hear that I look like a crooked, crooked squirrel-mouth.  My teeth were sort of crazy looking but are getting less so every day.

A lot of people didn’t realize that my teeth had problems because I had a tooth physically on top of another one.  Yup.  Two teeth in the same spot, one in front and one behind in case the one in front ever got knocked out in a tavern brawl.

The little tiny tooth behind never saw the light of day, and the tooth on top was up so high in my jaw that it never ever would wear down.  It is about twice as large as the canine on the other side of my mouth.  It doesn’t show up much in any of these pictures because I think I subconsciously turn my head to the side to catch the more normal looking side of my face.

And my ortho person says that I have what is called an over jet, which is like an overbite but faster.

(No, I guess it shoots out the front of your mouth at a not-so-great angle.)

I got the braces in mid November and have until summer to wear them.  Already there is tons of change in my little old mouth.  The shy toothling has popped out into the light of day!  The bottom teeth are falling in line too.  I don’t have any close up pictures because I always seem to be the person wielding the camera in this family, but here is one of me one month after getting braces:

They aren’t too noticeable really.  I’ll get a better picture up soon where you can really see all the crazy shit in my mouth.

But it does hurt.  And I can’t eat anything crunchy (which is all I seem to want).  Thank God it is the winter and there aren’t a lot of good vegetables available anyway, because it is a serious senior citizen diet for me.  Come see me and we’ll eat applesauce together.

Speaking of things that didn’t suck— how about that 2011?  I was a fan of it myself.  Here for you is a list of the best (or at least the most important) life elements of 2011.

1. Inez finally potty trained.  Oh thank God!  It was getting so tiresome changing those diapers, struggling with her, begging, bribing, threatening in the hopes of her refraining from crapping on herself.  Life is way better now.  I was reflecting on this just last night— rarely a week goes by that Brad and I don’t comment on how happy we are that Inez is now out of diapers.  How long will this reflection be relevant and bring us such joy?  When she is 12 will we still be saying, “Oh man, I am SOOOOO happy that this kid is out of diapers!”?
2. Zephyr went to kindergarten.  I like Zephyr, really I do, but I am so pleased to have him at school every day.  The kid is learning up a storm, slowly starting to read in Spanish and English, and just generally thrilled to be out in the world.  Is it pain-free?—-no.  There are some adjustment issues on his side, usually expressed with dumb-shit behavior like breaking all the crayons on his desk or throwing his body so far back in the chair that he ends up sprawled out on the carpet.  His teacher is kind and patient though, and we think he’ll figure out how to be less obnoxious by June at the latest.
3. Cargo bike!  Cargo bike!  I totally love our new bike.  And I do ride it even now when it is raining.  And it is still a kick to fit all the groceries in there plus a kid or two.  Yay for biking!
4. The yearly trip to Ashland with my parents continues to be the high light of the year.  In case I didn’t write about it before, the gist is that we go to Ashland with my mom and dad, rent a house for a week and see as many plays as we can.  Mom and Dad go to matinees while our kids nap or read, and Brad and I do the evening shows while my parents watch our kids.  During the daytimes we ride bikes, wander to shops, go to the waterplay park, wade in Lithia Creek, take walks and visit.  It is so nice to be with Mom and Dad outside of either of our homes.  It is just relaxed and fun… and full of ice cream.  Our kids love it.  We love it.  I hope Mom and Dad love it because I never want to quit going!
5. Family art night is still going strong on Monday nights.  The kids really look forward to the next big project for our family, and the studio space gets a lot of use.  I haven’t made anything too great lately, but even if I use this time to sew buttons back on shirts, we’re doing things together which makes it feel worthwhile.
6. There were a lot of funerals this summer.  I can’t say that this was a “hit”, but it was definitely a defining part of this year, and gained importance as I did a lot of funeral music.  I guess I am getting old because I lost a grandfather and a grandmother, plus a friend from Gospel Choir and a family friend from Sheridan.  I did the music for all the services which was really rewarding because it is something to do when you feel sad, and  a way to comfort people when you feel helpless.  I have felt a bit of a calling to turn my music into something tangible and useful, so funerals fit the bill.  When acquaintances express surprise that I am a musician and ask where I play, I tell them to just kick it before me and I will put on a great show.
   

   Does Frances Wilma Parmeter look like anyone you know?

7. Anne returned from Japan.  I missed her, but now she is here and I can see her (almost) any time.  It is always fun to be with Anne.  It is great to have her back in Portland.
8. Francis and Zephyr are much, much more independent this year.  During soccer season, Francis rode her bike with a neighbor all the way to our local park for practice two days a week.  And in addition to zipping to friends’ houses down the block, we’ve experimented with the kids walking home from school on their own.  They are doing a great job, and have been very trust worthy and followed all our rules (which include them holding hands ALL the way home….how long will that one last?).  I feel really good about seeing their confidence and self-reliance.  The kids know they can take care of their own safety, which makes me super happy, and the transition to the responsibilities of an older kid will just be that much more smooth.  Let’s hear it for the free-range kid!
9. My saeurkraut is awesome.  ‘Nough said.
10. There have been some rough spots for our darling Clementine.  In addition to having a baby nearly three months early, Clementine’s husband lost his job and the family ended up homeless, all within one month.  We offered that they might move in with us, but coming back to the Portland area wasn’t a good long-term choice for their family, so they moved into a shelter.  This was a shocking and difficult choice, but the right move to fast track them to low-income housing, where they should have been a good year ago.  It was a heart-breaking time full of tears and panic and problem-solving, but it all worked out for the best.  In late July the family ended up in an apartment of their own; in August, Madina came home from the hospital to be with them.  They are happy and healthy, but still without employment.  Please take a moment to offer a prayer that Clementine or Mohammed get a job this year! Let me take a moment to say:  thank you God for Catholic Charities.  I am not always proud of the machinations of the Catholic church—they’ve done and continue to do crappy things that do not promote the dignity of every person, but they also teach a brand of social justice that is about direct action.  Our country has become one of the worst places to experience poverty, and it seems harder than ever to escape poverty of your own will and determination. But thank you for the shelter full of kind workers and caring volunteers.  Thank you God that people still care about the homeless.  I hope that we will do better for our brothers and sisters in 2012.

For 2012: People have asked me what my New Year’s Resolutions might be.  The quick answer is just to keep on keeping on.  I want to keep on making art, keep on spending time with kids, keep on cooking good food and taking care of our chickens, keep on praying and singing (so redundant!), keep on spending time with friends, family and neighbors, keep on reading and learning.  Big on my “keep on” list is running.  I am still running twice a week at 5:30am, which is shocking in itself because that is eaaaaarly for this girl who loves to sleep.  No marathoners will be too impressed because my running group doesn’t go far nor fast, but this is a major thing for me because I am really feeling the difference.  I am more fit and have more energy and less aches and pains.  (My husband says my butt looks good too, which is SOOOOO important, yes?).  It is a big thing for me to keep this up as I had been intending to get a positive pattern going for years, but somehow fell short of actually making it happen.  It’s happening and I am so thrilled with myself that I am determined to KEEP it going.

Blessings in the New Year.

Having a baby around that you are in no way responsible for taking care of!

You get smiles, cuteness, a warm body to cuddle, but you don’t have to wake up all night to take care of her, nor remember where you put her down.  It is great.

Our friend Clementine came to visit us for two weeks with her new baby Madina, and it was such a relaxing, enjoyable time.  I don’t know many people who I would relish having around for two weeks, but Clementine, because she lived with us before, felt comfortable and easy to be with.  She expects very little.  She is accustomed to “hanging out” and makes the most of that social time without suffering from the itchy legs-oh-my-god-I-must-be-doing-something-right-now that I experience.  We fell right back into our old patterns—flowing in and out of the living room, drinking tea, inviting various friends and acquaintances over, eating squash, trying our old Thai food haunts.  Clementine, like always, was helpful with kids and dishes.  I, like always, have too much spare clothing and was able to outfit my African friend in more weather-appropriate attire.  (These African ladies!  They walk around in the the thinnest–albeit voluminous– dresses and SANDALS, even though it is sleeting rain outside!)  The various Portland friends together sent Clementine back to Seattle with boots, tights, a hat, gloves and a sweater.  I repaired a couple dresses and skirts too, so I felt useful.

But Madina!  Sweet Madina is one of the best babies ever.  Brad pointed out that Madina complains only slightly more than Clementine (which is never).  The kid eats.  The kid sleeps!  The kid smiles a radiant smile.

I hate to use the word “miracle” to describe her, but because Madina was born early, early, early at  2 lbs 12 ounces, I know we are all lucky to have her here.  She spent her first 3 months in the hospital, so it is even more of a pleasure to see her chubby and happy.

Being with these friends (this new baby friend here) makes me thrilled at the surprises in life.  You think you know what you need in life, but there are such other intentions for you in store…and you have no idea what they might be, what deep place inside you they make feel full and whole and perfect.  It is sappy to say, but such a joy to be alive!

Suffice it to say, it sort of sucked the big one.  We made a small but respectable enough chunk of change, but not large enough to warrant the many desperate walks to find the nearest-neighbor-to-the-school-that-I-sort-of-knew so that I could ask to use her bathroom.

On a positive note, we priced things to MOVE, because, of course, we didn’t want to have to MOVE them ourselves at the end of the day when they didn’t sell.  One of the big bargains I picked up was a really ugly stick horse.  It had a shrunken head of stained blue upholstery fabric and orange yarn for a mane.  The cool part about it was that it was made of oak (sturdy!) and there was a wooden wheel on the end attached with a wooden peg.  I tossed it in my art studio thinking I might someday do something with it.

Fast forward a few months.  My eldest daughter is long on ideas and short on follow through.  Or more accurately, so full of ideas that she could not possibly create all the things she comes up with in one day…. so she makes me do things.  Here is her M.O.—she comes into my art area while I am working on something else (usually something boring and necessary like mending clothing or making cloth napkins).  She stands there really quietly for a bit until I have forgotten she is there.  I have poor peripheral vision and she tends to stand slightly back of my elbow where things get fuzzy.  Then, “Hey Mom, you know what you could do….” and then she proposes something REALLY HARD and seemingly impossible.  Then I sigh and say, “Francis… that is too hard!” or “I don’t know how to make a spiral out of fabric that flies with a basket attached that a toy mouse could sit in!” (insert parental whine).  The thing is, sometimes I DO know how to make things that she suggests.  Or rather, I can figure out eventually how to make what she suggests, but she has much more faith in my ability than I.

At Zephyr’s birthday, she thought I should make a fabric pea shooter toy from the Plants Versus Zombies game.

It involved sewing a sphere, which is sort of hard seeing as how I refuse to actually use math or measurement of any kind.  It kind of came out okay.  I forgot the frilly leafiness on its head which continues to bug me, but Zephyr was thrrrrrilllled.

Next Francis saw the stick horse and proposed that we make a better one for Inez.  ”Oh no Francis.  You see, that would need curves and stuff so it would be really hard!”.  But I sat down and started thinking and cutting and made a head that I was fairly happy with.  I shoved the old head up inside this one (weird, I know) and crammed a bunch of stuffing around it and felt fairly pleased with the result:

Inez rides “Angel” constantly now.  Truly, this horse has made about 30 trips to and from school.  Old people go gaga when they see a kid on a stick horse.  And Angel is pretty easy to ride because she has a wooden wheel at the end of her stick.  I keep waiting for Inez to tire of this toy, but she hasn’t.

Sometimes I feel pretty sorry for myself that I had a bunch of kids and could not “develop as an artist” or some such crap.  Other times I have to be honest and say that maybe having kids around and making things for them is some of the best inspiration I could find.

(This is almost too sweet for me—-gagging a little—but it is true.)

“You’re so right!”

“This is so helpful!  It took me all afternoon to figure this one out!”

“Excellent ideas.”

“Very clever content!”

“I’m so glad I found this site.”

“I agree with you completely.”

and then the weird misspellings:

My spam box is overflowing with positive comments.  Spam loves me.  Spam thinks I am smart.  Spam says that I saved the day with my cleverness.  Is it sad that Spam knows what we are suckers for— secretly desiring a little obsequiousness, a little ingratiation?  Oh Spam, tell me more!

Photo by Inez

You know how you can learn things from media without even reading the text?  Here is what I learned just by looking at pictures that are hoping to depict people dealing with arthritis:

Exercise, even if it is sort of lame and you are sort of shubby*, is good for you.

*  When I was teaching, a student wrote an entire essay about how her friend should feel good about herself even though she was “sort of shubby.”  This spelling cracked me up.  It sounds so cute, so non-threatening, so fuzzy.  I did not tire of reading it, ever.  Then I read it to Brad.  Then we started calling ourselves “shubby”.

You can have arthritis, even if you are Black!  Arthritis, not just for white people anymore!

Think of some good one-liners to use on your doctor when you see him/her.  You might even get better care if your doctor thinks you are clever!  Don’t forget, they don’t want to see you sad!

And finally:

Just because your body is screaming out in agony does not mean that there are not hot, romantic moments of SEX coming your way SOON.  It all starts with a little two step.  Take your aspirin so that you don’t miss out!

Anyway, I am sick of myself when I am like this, but this is my way of grieving.  I am fascinated and fearful of death, so I try to get myself right in there as close as I can to it.  Maybe then I will understand it better.

Anyway, my uncle asked me to write my grandmother’s obituary which has been a distinct pleasure.  I feel like I learned something about her while reflecting on how to depict her life (in 70 words or less!).  And I appreciate things about her that I never noticed while she was here.  For example, she was sort of a proto-feminist.  She had to fight to keep working, and she did keep working, even while raising 5 boys.  She believed in good manners and had high standards for society.  She knew what she wanted and she recognized what she needed to do to go out and get it.  And she knew the value of a husband who could dance!  Good job Grandma.

Here you go:

Frances Wilma Parmeter

Frances Wilma Parmeter was born in the dry grasslands of Eastern Washington in Eltopia, near Pasco, March 10th, 1916. Her parents, Newmaris and Grace Lloyd, were wheat farmers and Wilma along with her two brothers and three sisters, was well-familiar with farmwork. Perhaps this is why she devoted herself so enthusiastically to her studies. Breaking the mold for rural young women at her time, she graduated high school early and entered Eastern Washington College of Education, where she received her Special Normal Diploma in 1937.

At her first teaching placement in Nespelem, Washington, she met Silas Parmeter at a dance. She was the new teacher in a tiny town; he was the best dancer. This was the beginning of a long, affectionate marriage. Wilma and Silas began their family while struggling to eke out a living in the dairy business. Wilma continued to work throughout this time, and finished her bachelors of arts in education in 1950.

She had clear ideas of the quality of life she wished for her family and she knew that they needed the stability of her income. Plus, she was sick of riding in that old farm truck. In 1961-62, the Parmeter family moved to Beaverton and had their fifth child. Wilma and Silas joined the Beaverton First United Methodist Church. She taught at Bonney Slope and Vose Elementary.

Wilma was quite the social librarian, always engaged in what was happening in her circles, the loves and interests of her sons, and the fluxes of fashion and popular culture. She loved to shop and continued to buy Christmas presents for everyone even as the family grew with many grandchildren. She loved the coast, baking, traveling, and painting. Wilma was a loyal Democrat and philanthrophist, giving faithfully to Democratic campaigns. She will be remembered as quite a lady, with impeccable manners and commitment to decency. Her children consider her even calmness and good nature a great gift to the family.

Later in life, when dementia began to quietly claim her, she retained her sweetness, humor and enjoyment of people around her.

She lost her husband Silas in 2004 and was preceeded in death by all her siblings. She died July 2nd at home, 95 years old, and having lived a life worth celebrating. Survivors include sons Douglas, Stanton, James, David, and Richard, 10 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren. A memorial wake will be held July 20th at 5:30pm at the Parmeter residence in Beaverton.