At Stonehenge. In flip-flops. Because there's nothing at all to stub your toe on at Stonehenge...Friday, February 29, 2008
Rocking the Short Shorts
At Stonehenge. In flip-flops. Because there's nothing at all to stub your toe on at Stonehenge...
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Too Cool to Be Without Shades
With Kar and Margo at the LA Fest, modeling the latest in filmmaker eyewear.(Courtesy of Esther Orioli)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Bay Area Memorial Service
The Bay Area Memorial for Ingrid will take place Saturday, Feb. 23, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the LGBT Community Center, 1800 Market Street at Octavia Street, San Francisco.
It’s an “aw shucks” love fest for the gal who loved polkas, women, cats, films, and setting Cheetos on fire. Come as you are!
It’s an “aw shucks” love fest for the gal who loved polkas, women, cats, films, and setting Cheetos on fire. Come as you are!
- Share your favorite Ingrid memory or story
- Sing a song, play a tune, dress a part
- Bring your pictures for a photo wall
- Contribute ideas, fabric, or pieces for a quilt in Ingrid’s honor
Rutgers: The Good Old Days
Ingrid and I met in September 1979, our sophomore year at Rutgers College. We lived down the hall from one another. She had come to New Jersey on a national student exchange program. She was eager to escape Boise to get to New York, and Rutgers was a way to do it. At the time she was experimenting with being out of the closet, and was the first person whom I knew who was open about being gay. I was a pretty awkward straight guy, obsessed with women, but not doing a whole lot about it. Our shared obsession though was just one of the things we had in common. We viewed ourselves as cosmopolitans. I thought that I belonged in New York and not Jersey; Ingrid was convinced that it was her destiny to be in a big city rather than Boise.
Soon after she got to Rutgers, we took the train into New York. We did lots of touristy things --the Statue of Liberty, the top of the World Trade Center (She reminded me of the World Trade Center trip when we talked on the phone after 9/11), and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I still repeat something she said at the Met. We were walking through this room filled with a couple hundred Greek Vases. There were so many of them, that it became boring to study each one. She was outraged that there were so many. She said, "If there was just one of these in Boise, humanities teachers from all over the state would take their students to see it."
Ingrid was kind, trusting, and trustworthy. She had friends of all genders and orientations and could talk to anyone. For all of her fascination with big city life, Ingrid had grown up on a farm and was deeply suspicious of people who put on airs. She often spoke of how people she met might appear to her family back in Boise. I'll always remember how she could flip back and forth between lesbian feminist and Boise farm girl.
In our senior year we shared an apartment. I did my school work, applied to graduate schools (in psychology), and almost nothing else, but Ingrid was always doing an art project or working on a film. I remember her working for days at a time on her films. Years later when I tracked her down through the internet, I saw that the films she made in college were now for sale on a videotape. Every now and then we’d get involved in some big cooking project together. Once, Ingrid found a recipe for homemade Kalua and insisted that we make it. In those pre-Starbucks days, it involved large amounts of vodka and instant coffee (Yuck!). We shared a stereo. I remember none of the records I owned at the time, but Ingrid introduced me to Patsy Cline and I still sing along when I hear her songs.
After college, Ingrid and I didn’t do a good job of staying in touch. I always figured though that at some point I’d make it out to California with my wife and daughters. Ingrid always struck me as someone who did what she set out to do and I’m sad that my daughters never got the chance to meet her, see the example she set, and laugh with her.
Jonathan Steinberg
Cincinnati, Ohio
February 2008
Soon after she got to Rutgers, we took the train into New York. We did lots of touristy things --the Statue of Liberty, the top of the World Trade Center (She reminded me of the World Trade Center trip when we talked on the phone after 9/11), and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I still repeat something she said at the Met. We were walking through this room filled with a couple hundred Greek Vases. There were so many of them, that it became boring to study each one. She was outraged that there were so many. She said, "If there was just one of these in Boise, humanities teachers from all over the state would take their students to see it."
Ingrid was kind, trusting, and trustworthy. She had friends of all genders and orientations and could talk to anyone. For all of her fascination with big city life, Ingrid had grown up on a farm and was deeply suspicious of people who put on airs. She often spoke of how people she met might appear to her family back in Boise. I'll always remember how she could flip back and forth between lesbian feminist and Boise farm girl.
In our senior year we shared an apartment. I did my school work, applied to graduate schools (in psychology), and almost nothing else, but Ingrid was always doing an art project or working on a film. I remember her working for days at a time on her films. Years later when I tracked her down through the internet, I saw that the films she made in college were now for sale on a videotape. Every now and then we’d get involved in some big cooking project together. Once, Ingrid found a recipe for homemade Kalua and insisted that we make it. In those pre-Starbucks days, it involved large amounts of vodka and instant coffee (Yuck!). We shared a stereo. I remember none of the records I owned at the time, but Ingrid introduced me to Patsy Cline and I still sing along when I hear her songs.
After college, Ingrid and I didn’t do a good job of staying in touch. I always figured though that at some point I’d make it out to California with my wife and daughters. Ingrid always struck me as someone who did what she set out to do and I’m sad that my daughters never got the chance to meet her, see the example she set, and laugh with her.
Jonathan Steinberg
Cincinnati, Ohio
February 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The Catnapster
Iggy Bob and Ingrid, modeling the latest in fleece and cat-fur napping blankets. Iggy Bob has a Catster page and requests the honor of your presence. Now.
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