Seems like it was in another lifetime, but maybe 18 years ago, Wayne Attwood asked if I could come to Portland to be the keynote speaker at a gathering of physicians —specifically the “Physicians for Social Responsibility.” The topic was nuclear arms, and I had spent the last few weeks going up and down the East Coast on a speaking tour — radio stations, TV news, campus and church gatherings. Billed as “Downwinders,” I was traveling with two survivors of the Hiroshima bomb blast and some dear, sweet nuns from a monastery in the East. Our message was simple: you don’t have to live in the epicenter of a bomb blast to be affected by the nuclear arms race. Those of us who live downwind from the Hanford Nuclear Reservation in eastern Washington or grew up in Utah during the era of nuclear bomb testing ended up with radioactive Strontium 90 in our growing bones.

I accepted his invitation. After my presentation, Wayne gave me a warm hug (he and Joy are known for their warm hugs) and asked if he and Joy could take me home with them for a few days of well-earned rest. They pampered me with home-cooked meals, movies, museums, naps, fantastic dinner conversations and some quiet solitude. For a few days at least, everything in the world seemed right.

Inspirational people like the Attwoods are an anchor and a hand-hold, outweighing and outnumbering all that isn’t right in the world.

by Carrie Lipe

Wayne and Joy Attwood meet me at the door of their quintessential 1960s one-story brick rancher in Spokane, Washington’s, South Hill neighborhood. From the exterior, the house appears conservative, plain — almost generic. However, as I cross the threshold, I discover the interior of the Attwood’s home contains layer upon layer of interest and surprise, just like the residents themselves.

As we move to cozy chairs in the living room, I notice an impressive array of Wayne’s magazines and books laid out on the coffee table. “Wayne has always been an avid reader,” says Joy about her husband, a physician who retired 10 years ago after 31 years of private practice in internal medicine. “He never stops learning.”

I soon find the same can be said for Joy, an accomplished artist and jeweler now in her 70s. I comment on the eclectic blend of international folk art and art originals displayed on their walls and shelves. Interestingly, one of the pieces my eye repeatedly returns to is a small plaster cast of a child’s hand. The cast captures in solid form the soft and relaxed structure of a hand yet unshaped by work or play.

“I’ve never seen a child’s hand done this way before,” remarks Joy as Wayne perceives an unspoken cue and moves across the room to lift the cast from the wall, passing the piece to Joy. “This was my own hand,” explains Joy as she cups the cast in hands now hardened and worn by a lifetime of making things. “I was 3 years old when this was made. The man who cast this was Bernard Frasier. He dreamed of one day becoming an art teacher, and eventually he became the head art professor at the University of Kansas.”

Joy’s life has been surrounded by inspiring teachers. “I’ve wanted to make things ever since I can remember.” Fortunately, Joy’s parents recognized this and early on found an art teacher to nourish her interest. “This was no small task in a town of less than 2,000 people,” she says.

“We both grew up in the small town of Smith Center, Kansas,” adds Wayne. “Eleven miles from the geographic center of the United States — in other words, in the middle of nowhere.” Wayne and Joy grew up as small town family friends. Wayne shows me the cover of a photo album their children put together to commemorate the Attwood’s 50th wedding anniversary. On the front of the album is a photo of Joy and Wayne together at ages 3 and 4.

“At age 6 or 7, I remember the very first piece of jewelry I made,” recalls Joy. “It was a necklace formed by dripping candle wax in water and then stringing a thread through each hardened wax bead.”

Joy has been making jewelry ever since. In 1949, she entered the University of Kansas to pursue a degree in jewelry making and metal smithing. “In those days, this was the only university offering this kind of degree in the United States.” During the same years, Wayne also attended the University of Kansas for a degree in economics. It was here that Wayne and Joy first started dating.

They were married during Joy’s junior year in college. Even during the years when Joy was raising three active children, she continued to develop her craft. “I took workshops at Spokane Art School, and my friend [local sculptor, teacher and art historian] Sister Paula Mary Turnbull has been a great inspiration in my work.” Joy’s jewelry has been collected privately and has appeared in shows and galleries nationally and internationally.

“Wayne has always supported my art,” says Joy. “He even had a hand in it during the years when we ran a casting studio together downtown.” Wayne explains, “She carved models from wax and I made the molds and poured the molten metal.”

“My process continues to change as I do,” explains Joy. “That’s the great adventure of art.” Over the years, Joy’s eyesight has necessitated a shift in technique. “I can no longer see the solder,” says Joy. “So I developed a way to connect materials with rivets.” She lifts a multi-layered pendant hanging from a cord around her neck, showing me a piece she recently finished.

“Joy has the blessing of creative hands,” says Wayne with an admiring smile. “My work did not involve much creativity or hand work.”

“Oh now, I don’t think that’s true, Wayne,” Joy quickly retorts, and just to prove her point, the doorbell rings. Wayne jumps up with a ready welcome hug for a young friend who obviously thinks the world of the Attwoods.

“Excuse me while I administer a little outpatient treatment here,” says Wayne with a big grin. “Our friend Joni has a rash on her hand that is impairing her ability to practice her profession.”

“And THAT is impairing my ability to pay the bills!” responds Joni, who I soon learn is a massage therapist. “She comes highly recommended,” states Joy, patting Joni on the arm.

Joni stretches her hand out and Wayne examines the rash. He runs to the medicine cabinet for a new tube of Lamasil ointment and rubs it into her palm with directions for “twice a day and we’ll see how you are in 48 hours.”

“Now see, you DO work with your hands!” exclaims Joy.

“He’s always administering outpatient care,” says Joy, now her turn to pass out an admiring smile. “He’s volunteered at the House of Charity free medical clinic for 10 years, and when we’re in Mexico, he gives care wherever we go.”

Joy pulls out a second photo album, and instantly I’m transported into another layer of the Attwood’s full world of family, friends and … well … good old fashioned fun.

“We never went for the Disneyland kind of travel,” says Wayne. “When the kids were young, we spent time outside, backpacking, skiing, camping. With the kids’ help, we built a lake cabin together, where we had many adventures and happy times with friends and family.”

“And 10 years ago we started another grand unknown adventure,” says Wayne.

“This is our building project in Baja, Mexico, with my new color scheme,” says Joy as we open the album to a photo revealing a small adobe home made with thick plaster walls, sensuous hand-shaped curves and knock-your-socks-off colors. They both smile at my surprise. “This is our other life!” And indeed, the contrast between the rectilinear brick exterior of the house we’re sitting in and the cornucopia of curves and colors we’re looking at is almost too much to take in.

“This has been a real community project,” says Wayne. Page after page reveal a constant stream of family, friends and neighbors visiting the adobe, working, laughing, sharing meals and even practicing yoga on the patio and offering prayers at an outdoor shrine Joy designed.

“My friend, Matt Girvin, died in 2001 in a helicopter crash in Mongolia when he was working for UNICEF,” explains Wayne. “Joy designed a memorial in his honor, where people come to offer prayers for loved ones.” Part painting, part sculpture, Joy describes the memorial as “an abstract Buddha figure sitting under the Bodhi tree.”

I am moved by the sudden memory of young Matt Girvin, a Spokane native, who was loved by friends and coworkers on many continents for his unwavering commitment to social justice and his work on behalf of the world’s children.

I comment on the spirit of openness and community evident throughout Wayne and Joy’s life. “We’ve always been interested in other cultures, we’ve always traveled and we’ve always taken in travelers when we could,” says Wayne. “Our daughter Denise’s work in Nepal has opened us to knowing first hand a whole new culture and way of life.”

Denise and her husband, Rick, operate a fair trade company providing sustainable economic opportunities for artisans and families in Nepal. “Through their work, we’ve had the opportunity to meet many wonderful people,” Wayne says. Wayne and Joy both laugh as they recall hosting a house full of Tibetan monks. “They discovered the pool table in the basement and were at it night and day,”recalls Wayne.

Asked what values guide her life, Joy responds, “It’s important to treat people as you want to be treated, to try to get
along with others in peace, despite differences, and to share what you have with others in talent and in financial resources.”

As a case in point, Joy recalls, “When MaryJane started her organic business, we supported her because helping financially was our way of lending a hand, making it easier for her to reach her goals.”

Wayne adds, “We met MaryJane when I was working with Physicians for Social Responsibility and the Hanford Education Action League. I was impressed by MaryJane’s willingness to be an activist, her energy, focus and ability to tackle and accomplish what others might think is impossible.”

Of his own guiding values, Wayne says, “It is important to realize meaning is with us all the time, that it is within us. If we can look inside, we find the internal is where the true value and quality of life comes from, not the external.” He adds, “I’ve tried to live according to a guiding principal that, ‘Life is for the living of the mystery, not the solving of the problem.’”

In characteristic humor and humility, Wayne adds, “Of course, my life has mostly been ‘mottled’ after this principal rather than ‘modeled’ after it!”

We all laugh as the Attwoods rise to see me off. As I cross the threshold back into the outside world, I feel grateful for the example of family, friendship, creativity and inner integrity Wayne and Joy have nurtured at the center of their lives and willingly shared with the world outside their doors.