The Color of Everything

Pantone 2010 Color of the Year: Turquoise 15-5119

The 2010 Color of the Year is Turquoise, according to global color authority Pantone, which sets standards for the design industry. Turquoise is a fluid, peaceful hue, one that combines the serenity of blue with the invigorating aspects of green.

“In many cultures, turquoise occupies a very special position in the world of color,” said Leatrice Eiseman, executive director of the Pantone Color Institute. “It is believed to be a protective talisman, a color of deep compassion and healing, and a color of faith and truth, inspired by water and sky.”

Turquoise also represents an escape to many, taking them to a tropical paradise that is pleasant and inviting–if only in fantasy, she added.

Little could Pantone have imagined another of this year’s interpretations: honoring the turquoise Gulf of Mexico waters that have been ravaged by the BP oil leak.

In addition to nominating the Color of the Year, Pantone creates nine color palettes for homes and interiors. Each palette reflects a distinct design point of view, such as whimsy, elegance or classicism. The colors don’t come out of nowhere. Each hue is carefully chosen with reason.

“Color is what happens in the world around us,” said Eiseman.

A few of today’s color influences:

* Soccer. American’s aren’t big soccer fans, but the rest of the world is. This year the World Cup tournament is being held in South Africa. In 2014 it will be in Brazil.

* Couture. Not long ago it took high fashion colors seven years to traverse the runway and into home furnishings. Today the timing is almost instantaneous, due to advances in communication and technology.

* Entertainment. Turquoise and cobalt blue that dominate “Avatar.” Unexpected color pops and creative combos found in the productions of Cirque du Soleil, Pixar and Tim Burton. The retro restraint of “Mad Men” and designer Tom Ford’s directing debut, “A Single Man.”

I always choose a Nail Polish Color of the Summer. This year I’m wearing OPI’s “Dutch Tulips,” a crisp rose that goes with pinks and reds alike. The free OPI iPhone App let’s you preview any of the 200-plus lacquer shades against your skin tone and nail length. You also can search for a color by name. If you like turquoise, try “Teal the Cows Come Home.”

My Grandmother’s House

Clara Anna Brinkman Dittmer, 1904-1995

When I was a child, my grandmother’s house in Plato, Minnesota, was the most wonderful place to be.

None of the other kids’ grandmothers had a bar room, but mine did. The bar room was stocked with candy and ice cream and soda pop and 3.2 beer, and best of all, a juke box. It was a place where, during slow afternoons, when customers were tending their farms, I could turn on the music and dance around the tables, or sit in one of the tall wooden booths and draw pictures of the ballerinas I hoped to become.

My family visited Grandma and Grandpa from far away every summer for two weeks. One year my father told me I had to start paying for the candy and pop I took from the bar room. But when I offered Grandma my carefully saved allowance, she wouldn’t take a cent.

In Grandma’s kitchen, hamburgers and onions sizzled on the stove most of the day and into the night. She cooked for the customers while Grandpa tended bar. They lived in back, on the first floor. The building had once been a stage coach stop, and the second floor was divided into small sleeping rooms. My grandparents turned part of it into an apartment. My bedroom had bunny wallpaper.

Grandpa retired and closed the bar room, but it still got plenty of use. With a table as large as King Arthur’s, it was the ideal spot for extended family gatherings.

Then Grandpa died. Grandma sold the house but moved upstairs as a tenant.

I grew up and, on a few occasions, went to Minnesota for business. I invited Grandma to dinner, but she had no part of it. She would cook, she insisted. With only a few hours’ notice, she could assemble a bevy of relatives and a humongous meal in her modest dining room.

Grandma’s upstairs apartment was a wonderful place to be.

Then Grandma moved to Glencoe, to the senior citizens’ Manor. The last time I visited, she fretted that she couldn’t cook the way she used to. But not one to let a wheelchair and crippling arthritis stand in the way of hospitality, she whipped up a casserole and homemade cookies at the dinette. Later she pulled candy from her cupboards and ice cream cups from her freezer. And she sent me home with cinnamon rolls, warm from the oven.

Grandma’s apartment at the Manor was a wonderful place to be.

Anywhere that Grandma lives is Grandma’s house. She has a new home now, and I know it’s a wonderful place to be.