Not ready to put Portland behind me…

I’m not ready to put Portland behind me.  Not yet.

Maybe because it’s simply out West, but there is something about Portland. The Willamette flows into the Columbia at Portland and splits the city in two. The river is a good focal point.

The priority items in last week’s letter (and rightfully so) didn’t leave me enough space to praise that city to Ellen and Reid.  Not that I want them moving further away from me than they already are, but the popularity of Oregon, and Portland in particular, are such that they advertise for visitors as long as they don’t become residents.

The City of Roses (that moniker is even stamped on their manhole covers) seems to have traits of all good cities: attractive, lively, great food, good architecture, and very habitable.

Where cities like Charlotte should pay attention is another common denominator: effective and widespread mass transit.  The light rail strings the city together, from the airport to the city center and the ‘burbs beyond.

Charlotte could borrow a page from Portland. A wonderful light rail system ties the city together, with noticeably less motor traffic.

I wouldn’t dream of pedaling around Charlotte.  Bikers here are an afterthought if not a nuisance and the news of car-inflicted injuries on the narrow ‘bike lanes’ here are all too common.  In Portland though, the bike lanes are spacious and biking to work and play is the norm; Minneapolis and Portland square off in a running (biking?) argument as to which is the more biking-est city.  On a year ’round basis, Portland has to get the nod.

The one disappointing thing was the cleanliness.  The streets were trashy and not picked up to the extent a visitor would hope to see.  If I was to grade Portland, it would get a B- if only because they make a concerted effort to get the locals to recycle.  Bins to separate waste are a great idea.

Street corner bins allow walkers to separate recyclable waste. Unfortunately, walkers could go a few feet left or right to find enough litter to fill these containers.

Finally, Portland has Powell’s Bookstore.  Best brick-and-mortar bookstore.  Ever.

Now I’m done with Portland.  Here is what E & R received a couple of weeks ago.

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September 10, 2012

Ellen/Reid: I head out to Portland on Thursday morning and get in about 2:30 local time.  My lodgings are a C (or D) grade joint in the downtown near to the church and where Henry and Mary lived, and that’s good enough for me.  Tom mentioned staying with them at their home in Eugene, but my thinking is his and the family’s plate is full enough without having to worry about guests.  So I feel better about the arrangements.  Tom bumped me the obituary this weekend, and today I’ll place it in the Omaha paper so those in Henry’s hometown can be brought up to speed on things.  They sound relatively at peace with things, and Tom says the passing was calm and serene, all things considered.  I’m looking forward to it.  There’s a family gathering Friday night, and on Thursday night my nephew Eli addresses a crowd at a Patagonia store about his exploits paddling the Pacific coast.  Patagonia is one of his sponsors, so that’s a bonus of sorts.

The weekend was pretty quiet.  Friday night, and for the first time in more than four years, Felicia cooked and it was delicious which caused me to raise the issue ‘why haven’t you done this more often?’  We went out and had a couple of drinks and heard some passable live music at Mac’s.  Our intent was to ride to Shelby on Saturday night for reputed excellent BBQ (is chopped meat really BBQ?) but got rained out.  Instead, we grilled a couple of beefy New York strips while we watched Nebraska stumble badly against a so-so UCLA team.  The best days for the Big Red appear to be behind them.  We also dog-sat her daughter’s lab/Weimaraner mix.  It’s a sweet dog.  Walked a couple of courses and played shoddy golf for the most part but the walking part was enjoyable.  My best days at golf also appear to be well behind me.

I do have the 12 page Caldwell newsletter to crank out in the next couple of days before heading West.  Nothing – zero – is on paper as of this writing.  That’s always a work in progress that comes together at the 11^th hour or the last second, whichever comes first.  Just when there appears to be no news, there is always some sort of divine intervention because a cover story or some other substantive item always pops up.  John seems to appreciate it (Reid, you’ve not met him) and that’s sort of what keeps me going on it.  This will be my 46^th or 47^th issue although no one is really counting.  John’s starting to preach on the plight of the poor, and given that neither party really addressed the issue at their recent conventions, it is timely.  I’m starting to sound like a church goer.

Ellen, I’ll make t-day reservations this week, and Reid, we need to move off the snide to get your Christmas tickets too.  Be sure to give me the dates on when you want to arrive and depart.  I’ll try to secure us a place on the beach somewhere, possibly Oak Island.  It’s about four hours due East of here.  It will spare you having to look at nothing under the Christmas tree, and maybe we can cook like we did on that Thanksgiving at Hilton Head a few years back if we are fortunate enough to have a kitchenette.  That was enormous fun.  Of course, it will be December and you never know what the weather will hold.  That’s okay.  You’re from Chicago.  Even the 30’s would be an upgrade for you.

Here I was all set to think about retirement at 64 or 65 – and then I logged onto the Social Security website and found, to my dismay, that the retirement age is now 66.  Bummer.  I was all set to do something else with the rest of my life, like write or play more bad golf.  I wouldn’t mind a part-time gig at a sporting goods store or something like that.  I don’t think I’m cut out to be a barista since I loathe coffees that involve foam, milk, soy products, and other ersatz flavor enhancers.  All that stuff is bogus and gets in the way of a good cup o’ joe.  When Emma’s old enough for coffee, her Gramps will teach her what’s right and wrong.

A gathering of Henry’s generations…

The central purpose to funerals and memorial services goes without saying.

This past weekend in Portland we remembered and honored my uncle Henry.  It was a wonderful, uplifting, spiritual and touching experience spread over several days.

But these sorts of gatherings are secondarily a catalyst to bring extended families together.  A forced family reunion if you will.  It is sometimes a good thing and sometimes maybe not.

My experience in Portland this past weekend clearly embraced the former.

The Andersen’s extended family used Henry’s weekend as a chance to recall their father/grandfather/uncle, but also to catch up after years of being apart. Truly, it was a gathering of Henry’s generations.

There was much happiness in remembrance.  I’ve broken, yet again, the cardinal rule of posting a letter ahead of Ellen and Reid reading it, but in this instance time is of the essence.  I’m sure they’ll understand.

Here is the letter that will likely arrive at their homes today.

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September 17, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It was a good few days in Portland.  The memorial service was well done (Henry outlined the service in its entirety) and it was great to be around the rest of the Andersen clan both before and after the service.  They handled the entire extended weekend about as well as could be done.  Aunt Mary acquitted herself as you might expect, with grace and still more grace.  Her family group did believe, and that as Hank had preached, that there was something better awaiting him and most certainly a higher calling.  So things went swimmingly in that regard.  They were glad to see us cousins there, and we tried to stay out of the way as best we could.

The early highlight was your cousin once removed, Eli.  He had fashioned a lengthy surfboard out of cedar, and proceeded climb aboard it to paddle – by hand, no oars – the length of the western side of Vancouver Island which is not quite 400 miles.  Even one mile in the Pacific on a wooden board knowing that there are creatures swimming below us who could just as easily chow down on hapless boarders would be too much for the lot of us.  He gave a talk on his adventure at a local Patagonia store in downtown Portland on Thursday night, and it was well attended.  Patagonia is a sponsor of Eli and there was, as someone in the family said, a small ‘shrine’ to Eli in the store including photos and the actual board dangling ahead.  It was quite inspirational.  Eli exists for that very kind of thing and this was just another chapter in his saga.  He’s gone across the U.S. on bike with his dad, Tom and brother Ben, built yet other boards, and paddled other salt waters along the Pacific coast.

Eli eloquently recalled his solo paddle (on a cedar surfboard of his own making) down the nearly 400 miles of Vancouver Island’s west shore for an enthused audience at a Portland Patagonia store. Eli’s independent, adventurous streak mirrors that of his siblings, his parents – and his grandfather.

Ralph and Gayle arrived Thursday, and that night we went up to Ben’s home where we ate broiled chicken and other good foods.  The highlight was an audio tape that Tom’s wife, Jessica (a really good book and magazine writer) had recorded of Henry a few years back describing the Christmas Eve sinking of the Leopoldville, a World War II troop ship sunk by the Nazis that claimed about 750 – 1,000 lives.  Henry was one of the handful up on deck who survived because they were there to sing carols when the torpedoes slammed into the hull.  His account was riveting, in part because it was already dark outside when the tape started, and he retold the story so well.  It was good for the family to hear that.

The family assembled a couple of other times aside from the service.  We convened Saturday after the service for lunch at the church and later that day for a relaxed reception on the penthouse floor where Mary lives.  We had a meal there, too, but before that some of us took a side trip to have the best tacos I have ever eaten.  It was at a seedy joint named Robo-Taco, and they were just incredible.  There was a funny moment during the post-service reception at Mary’s place.  Henry was cremated, and they returned the ashes to the family, but they returned other non-burnable items in a clear plastic bag, too, such as Henry’s replacement knees.  We all tried to guess how the knees worked – Ben took them out of the bag – in a scene that Tim described as macabre.  It was a good moment of levity.  So the family took things very much in stride, and we would not have missed it.

I hoofed it around Portland a fair amount in part because my hotel, the vaunted Inn at Convention Center, was a total fleabag/dump.  But otherwise it is a great town.  High emphasis on mass transit and a great light rail service that covers much of the metro area.  Tons and tons of bike riders (the pedal kind of bikes).  The weather was divine and conducive to hoofing it.

But I’m glad to be home now.  A few hundred work emails will grab your attention, so I am back at the entrance to the salt mines.  Pretty soon I’ll be fully immersed in it.

Good for something…

Mom at dinner. It's so good to see her smile after the rough stretch of months she's endured.

Well, it seems the Internet is good for something besides porn (I’m not a viewer) and putting newspapers and book stores out of business.

The staff at the home where my mother lives sent a batch of photos of mom that made my heart skip a beat for the first time in a long while.  She just looked great – smiling and happy for a change.  She’s got a new buddy – I don’t know her name – but it’s always good to have a pal to pal around with.

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November 11, 2010

Mom: You can’t believe how happy I was to get a batch of photographs of you the other day from the staff there at Country House.  You looked so good and so happy.  And who was the baby you were holding?  It was really good to see you smile.  The surroundings there look pretty nice.  The staff sent the pictures over the Internet, and be sure to tell them thanks, and to keep the photos coming.

Played golf yesterday with a couple of my buddies at the bank.  I’ve been trying to stay away from the course but they demanded, as only bankers can.  As usual, I got crushed by those thieves.  But we had a great time.  One of the guys had his 11-year-old son with him, Jack, and for the first time in his life the young lad broke 100.  He had a 98 and that’s pretty good shooting for a little kid.  You’ve never seen a kid smile so much.  He was on cloud nine.  It was a beautiful day in the low 70s and bright sunshine.  If my God-awful long swing isn’t enough, my short game went to hell in a hand basket.  I couldn’t get up and down to save my life.

We’re cooling down here.  It was in the upper 20s a couple of nights ago and that’s pretty much taken care of any tender, growing plants.  I planted some pansies in the window box out front and they still seem to be living.  The lettuce is doing fine, too.  I’ve been wearing a coat and hat to the office for a change.

Tomorrow I may try some fly fishing for the trout up at a spot called South Mountain.  It’s about an hour drive from here although there is no easy way to get to it.  There’s no real easy way to get to anywhere in North Carolina.  Anyway, the fish are reported to be quite large, some up to 20 inches.  All rainbows.  Those are a little bigger than we used to catch up in the Rockies.  I saw the pictures from a friend so I can verify that the fish are big.  I’m angling to just get outside, really.  Felicia and I will take her daughter’s dog, she’s a Labrador mostly, along for the ride.  Maybe that will tire the dog out to take a long walk.

Finished my church newsletter last night.  When it’s printed I’ll send you a copy.  It’s 12 pages and it takes about 25 hours a month to do.  But I enjoy it and the minister seems to like it so I guess that’s what matters.  It’s not the best looking thing you’ve ever seen but the content isn’t bad.

I talked last night to Henry and Mary up in Portland.  He seems to be doing fine although Mary holds the fort down for the most part.  He was full of questions about North Carolina and how I like it down here.  I assured him that it was fine enough although some of the Southern ways take a little getting used to.

Well, gotta run to the office.  You be good, and keep the beautiful pictures coming.

One dollar words…

If I don't grab the chance to write Mary and henry now, the chance will slip by.

When I was a U.S. housing columnist for the Associated Press, one of the guiding tenets was to keep the story as simple as possible for the reader.  You don’t need to be a journalist to grasp that concept.  No one dollar words  when a 25 cent word will do.

The same with letters.  Here are two one pagers written early today.  Both share some of the same material but the telling took a slightly different path in each one.

The first is the usual weekly note to my mother.  In her unfortunate state, it’s fine to update the same topics from week to week.   The sentences tend to be short and uncomplicated.  So are the paragraphs.  Sure, I want to be informational but also to let her know she’s still important to me.  If the page occupies a few moments of her time then we’ve both won.

The second letter is to my dear aunt Mary and uncle Henry (aka Hank).  They live in Portland, OR and face their own health and life challenges.  He’s a former minister (and my mother’s brother) and Mary is a proverbial live wire.  I’ve missed them over the years and this past summer was a chance to reconnect with them and their two sons, Tom and Tim.  Henry asks about his sister at every opportunity.  This letter is another such opportunity.  I can be open and candid with these two.   They are part of the family equation these past few months.  If I don’t tell as much of the  story as I can in what is essentially a one-off letter, it will never get done.

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September 10, 2010

Mom: Never in another million years did I ever think to see you sitting on the back of a Harley, but now I’ve seen it all.  Country House was nice enough to send along photos of the bunch of you perched on the Hog as it tooled around the neighborhood on a pretty day.  That really looked fun.  Hopefully his pipes were loud enough to shake things up a bit.  It’s fun that they have lots of activities for you guys.  If and when I ever get my bike out there we’ll take a ride for real.

I hear through your other son that they’ve dialed back some of your medications.  That’s good.  I’m taking one aspirin a day plus a vitamin, and that’s about all I want to take these days.

Just heard from Ellen this morning and she’s giving a thumbs up to her first week of teaching second graders in St. Paul.  The full debriefing should come sometime this weekend.  She’s got mostly immigrant children so their language skills are all over the map, literally.  She is supposed to send photos of her new classroom and when she does that I’ll include one in the weekly letter.

As for Reid, he’s doing okay, too.  He’s liking his new studio apartment but the one down side is he has to haul out his laundry to the local laundry place.  There are worse things however.  He’s really working hard at his job and liking it quite a bit.  He rides his bike around Chicago quite often and it would be a cheap way to see the city, plus he gets some exercise.  I’d like to see him join a gym but am not sure what his monthly budget allows.

Last weekend was not a real big weekend for me.  Rode my Harley a few hundred miles up toward Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  A nice ride through the countryside.  Stopped at the local Harley shop for a few minutes, then on back home.  Spent Sunday re-staining and waterproofing my little front porch but it looks a lot better now.  You wouldn’t believe how many townhomes are for sale in my little development.  By my count the total is 12.  Times are tough for lots of people and the payments are just a little more than lots of folks can muster month in and month out.  My guess is that Grand Island’s economy isn’t nearly as bad as it is in these parts.  Lots of people looking for meaningful work.

Spent part of Labor Day morning at my church helping to paint the rooms on the second floor of our big secondary building.  It’s being converted to a temporary shelter for homeless women.  It had been vacant for quite some time and needed a good sprucing up.  It’s a good use for the space and the congregation is fully behind the project.  It will house around 50 women in a dorm-type of situation.  Well you be good, and don’t ride into the sunset on that guys Harley.  Not a bad idea, though.

——————-

September 10, 2010

Mary and Henry: This note is long, long overdue, and after this summer, it’s high time I brought you up to speed on most things.

Hank, your sister seems to be doing better these days.  She had a rough patch last month, and Ralph took her to another unit in Hastings where she had a thorough evaluation which was probably long overdue, too.  The end result is that the doctors throttled back the hodge-podge of medications she’d been taking.  The disparity of drugs seemed to throw her for a loop.  She’d been shifted from enough places that with every move came another tweak to her medications.  Now it appears that it’s been ironed out (knock on wood).  She’s back in Grand Island now and appears to do pretty well.  I don’t get to talk to her all that often but when I do she sounds chipper and alert.  She’s somewhat restless though, yet she doesn’t talk about Omaha and the other events.  On the whole I’m glad she’s there because Ralph has seen her just about every day.

I may get out there in October.  We’ve got some estate things to do along with a fair amount of packing at the house.  There have been a lot of people troop through it but there’s not been a single offer.  It’s a reflection of the local economy.  People just aren’t in the market for a home, and if they are, they know they are in the catbird seat in a buyer’s market.

I’ve been in touch with Tom now and again.  He’s a good guy and he keeps me posted on you guys.  He follows my blog relatively religiously (not many people do) and it keeps him up to speed on the latest news.  I can’t tell you how much it meant to have he and Tim shepherd the two of you to Omaha during those trying days.

Tom may have told you I’m back in the job market.  My stake is firmly in the ground in Charlotte so this is where I’ll cast my lot.  Since I’ve come back to the Presbyterian church (I edit the church newsletter and will send the next installment to you.  You can see past issues online at Caldwellpresby.org), my pastor has been beyond supportive.  I’ll admit that my feeble power of prayer has not been extended to the job hunt since it’s my belief that God has more important things on his plate (i.e. showing the divine light to the bizarre Koran-burning, publicity-seeking whack job in Florida) than something as mundane as employment.  Honestly, I’ll be content to ride things out with any sort of work that can be shut off at 5:00 without taking any of it home with me.  I’m fine with that.

Well, it’s back to the job hunt.  I suppose you two will hear from me with a little more frequency now that mom has landed in what looks to be a longer term solution for her.  Don’t think for a minute that you guys haven’t landed in the right spot.  It was the right decision when you made it and it will continue to be so.