This bandshell has always been a wonderful part of Julia Davis Park. And now it’s called the Gene Harris Bandshell. Look how great the shadow is!
Apparently, it caught on fire in 2018, and I’m looking at a post-fire restoration. And also, it’s been named for Gene Harris since 2000. I’m a little slow on noticing Boise things now.
The original contract for the bandshell was awarded in April of 1928. The bandshell was designed by the Wayland & Fennel architectural firm and was constructed in a mission revival style with a stucco exterior. Its style was likely inspired by the construction of the Boise Depot in 1925. When the depot was completed, it inspired a flurry of commercial and residential structures in a similar style.
The bandshell was dedicated on Sunday, July 8, 1928 with remarks from former mayor Eugene B. Sherman and Mayor Walter Hansen. The audience enjoyed several solo songs from Mrs. Rosene, several pieces of music played the Boise Male Quartet, and a band program that played about twelve songs with an intermission. A crowd of 2,000 people watched, sitting on the grass, or parked in their automobiles.
And about Gene Harris:
Built in 1928, the band shell was named for famed jazz pianist Gene Harris in 2001. Harris lived and performed in Boise from the 1970s until his death from complications from diabetes in 2000. He also gave his name to the Boise State Jazz Festival, now known as the Gene Harris Jazz Festival
When I began attending First Unitarian in 2001, Helen Warbington managed the coffee hour. She was seemingly a million years old (actually, as it turns out she was 75-ish), but was a general in charge of her troops when it came to getting the coffee out and the used cups back, washed, and put away. I also enjoyed her enthusiasm with the bell choir.
It’s sad to lose such strong and directive women, but I’m glad I got to see her in action.
The Boise Airport has been renovated several times since I was last a full-time resident. But I’m glad they’ve retained these big, colorful gate numbers through the years.
Here we have Onamato (left side), Printemps (swirly), Flux (the plant looking one) with a bit of Fescu on the top of the Flux, Isosohor (to the right of Flux), Nipa (upper right) and the always reliable Festune (lower right corner)
I really liked learning Crazy Huggins (the interwoven thing on the left). I wasn’t as enamored of my attempt at Chainging on the right side of the tile.
Here’s an overview of all my Project Pack No. 1 tiles. It was a super fun project.
The scourge of the modern era is not knowing where to store random things collected from the internet. So here is this recipe I may or may not make at some point. It sounds delicious, especially because the turmeric is heated.
I like most all cats, but there are two I’ve met who were the best cats in the world. One was my friend’s dad’s cat that I met in high school. The other was Sentinel.
Sentinel was probably four years old when he came to live with us. We adopted him from the Oregon Humane Society where he was known as Admiral Jones. He had recently had his front leg amputated. He was found in a trailer park in Damascus (the source of his middle name) and his leg had been dislocated for too long; it needed to be removed. He’d been in foster care long enough for the fur to grow back and was pretty steady.
From the beginning, he was a cat who wanted to hang out. Matt picked him out—I had my eye on a big fella called King Ralph—and Matt suggested Sentinel as his name, and it fit him perfectly.
I have a lot of picture of him supervising whatever project was going on. Sentinel was always social, both with people and cats. When people came to visit, it wasn’t long before Sentinel appeared and made the rounds. He was interested in hanging out with any neighbor cats, especially upstairs kitty, who would come by to check up on him.
Sentinel liked attention. Though he wasn’t a lap sitter (probably because of his missing leg) he would jump on the couch and sit next to you, and he was a great fan of lying on my chest when I read or napped. He really liked to groom humans–I suspect he was weaned too early.
Matt liked how Sentinel advocated for his needs and remained determined to fulfill those needs. If Sentinel wanted something from Matt when he was sitting on the couch, he would sit on the back of the couch close enough so he could flick his tail in Matt’s face, which was funny enough to overcome the annoyance factor.
Sentinel had a very quiet meow most of the time. More of a mouth opening sound than a meow. His loud meow would appear when he was in distress, usually because he wanted attention, or felt that it was time to eat. But even then it was a one-and-done meow and didn’t come very often.
Sentinel had a very good sense of how much time had passed. If it was time for dinner (or breakfast, or lunch) it was time for dinner (or breakfast, or lunch). He would stand by and headbutt my leg if I was sitting. Sometimes he even nipped my leg. If it was time for breakfast and I was still in bed, he would sometimes put his one front leg under my neck, claw the bed to gain purchase, and then burrow his nose under my neck and push my head in an attempt to turn me on my side and get me out of bed. It’s a good thing he was so charming because his persistence around food was really annoying. (Though silent.)
Matt picked out Sentinel because he thought that with only one front leg, he wouldn’t jump up on tables or counters. That was a miscalculation. He was a good jumper and, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to, he would jump on the counters to see what there was for him to scavenge. He also would sit on the arm of the couch and make a giant leap from the couch to the table under the windows. That one always made me nervous, especially when he was in his mid-teens. But he never missed.
One weekend afternoon, I was taking a nap in my bedroom to rest up from a baking failure. I had attempted chocolate chip cookies, but something had gone wrong, and there was nothing left to do but throw the cookies in the compost bin I kept on the counter. While attempting to rest, I heard a quiet ka-thunk from the kitchen. I ignored the noise a few times, then hauled myself out of bed to investigate. I found Sentinel on the kitchen counter using his nose to lift up the compost bin’s lid, biting a cookie and dragging it out, leaving the lid to ka-thump shut. He then ate the cookie part and spit out the chocolate chips. I laughed because it was so very wrong and also hilarious.
Names I called Sentinel: Big kitty, handsome fella, snaggle tooth, Elvis.
Antares came to live with us because Sentinel seemed to want a live-in friend. Sentinel accepted him into the household and showed him how to be a good indoor cat. I have a lot of pictures of the two of them sleeping, Sentinel’s red-black fur contrasting with Antares’s black-black fur.
As the resident at the Orange Door with the third-longest tenure, he really made his mark. It will be hard to not have Sentinel with us after fifteen years.
For five pages of blog posts tagged Sentinel, click here.
