Oregon My Oregon: A Valentine's Day Card For The Beaver State
She Flies With Her Own Wings
Good Morning!
Today, we’re heading west to a Pacific Wonderland for something a little different.
If you’re of a certain age, you’ll remember: Taking a shoebox (or, if desperate, a Kleenex box), covering it in wrapping paper, and placing it with giddy anticipation on the corner of your desk.
You’d wait with bated breath for cards from everyone in the class. Doubly so for the boy/girl you had a crush on. Little affirmations that came in cellophane boxes a harried parent invariably picked up at the last minute on the way home from work. That, too, was a gift. Some just had a name; others had a note- those told you whose parents had more time on their hands. Most of us just came home with a class roster mimeograph and a mission to knock these out as fast as possible. We loved gettin’ em. Making them, less so.
But those few minutes before everyone began their lap around the classroom! The wait was almost too much- especially if you were a kid who could optimistically be described as “husky” and had a penchant for wearing the same 2-3 shirts for a month. This was our their time to shine.
Anymore, it’s easy to see that sort of thing through a cynical lens. Everyone had to make one for everyone, lest there be hurt feelings. The cards were grabbed from Safeway en masse, not picked out for each person or handmade. At some point, candy was prohibited (ostensibly for nut allergies, more likely for the teacher’s sanity).
As young adults, we were firehosed with ads about diamonds. Everyone knew what “He went to Jared” meant. Shane Company ads were ubiquitous. Maybe they still are. My employer has co-opted it as the day they issue profit-sharing checks. After all, what better way to say “I love you” than to return some of the “shareholder value” your employees worked to earn, right? No wonder so many of us glance askance at Valentine’s Day.
Love is for lovers? Indeed, dear reader, indeed. But for those who want to celebrate something else today, allow me to offer you an option:
Oregon’s 165th birthday.
I live in Wisconsin now. I am infatuated with this state. Every year, I get a state parks sticker, but that’s just a cover story–really, I want to see what’s on the way to each of them. To find Main Street. To discover a 4-calendar cafe. I got ~30k words into writing a book about doing just that during COVID. I should probably finish it. My wife is from here. One of my sons was born here. I live here.
But it's not home.
That place is 1800 miles to my left. A place with mountains, deserts, and an ocean. And a Gorge. The license plates used to say “Pacific Wonderland.” That wasn’t false advertising. I was raised by PDX, and the city gave me everything. Mt. Hood? Way good. And you can see it from anywhere in town like a kindly sentinel watching over you. The best views of both are from the Marquam Bridge's top deck; if you time it right, you can share the experience with 1000s of your closest friends. Free parking starts back in the Curves. Even the airport carpet has taken on a life of its own. Can JFK or LAX say that?
No, they cannot.
I once heard someone half-jokingly describe the state as “God’s preview of heaven,” and never once have I dared argue that. I’m not a man of faith, but I have to imagine that the feeling you get on Mt. Hood on a Bluebird day is akin to a religious experience.
503 natives are like Crossfit fans and vegetarians in that they never miss a chance to work it into a conversation. I get it. But Oregon is more than a geographic boundary; it gets in your veins. It’s in your bones. It’s who we are.
And that’s not something you’ll find in an aisle at Target.
The clip below shows the state song, ‘Oregon, My Oregon.’
This clip is Mat Kearney’s love letter to the state and also to the greatest university/football team in the land- the Oregon Ducks. It never rains at Autzen Stadium.
#Scoducks
Thanks for being here,
Kevin—
P.S. Coming Friday: Back to business as usual, as we take a trip to the other end of I-5 to check out a brand new band with a typical origin story and instruments that are anything but.
This was a lovely read to wake up to. Thank you, Kevin, for sharing your love letter to home with us all.
I first came to Portland in 1990, when I was looking at Grad schools. I was deeply entrenched in grunge (The Screaming Trees, in particular) and a couple of garage-psych bands from Portland. I went to Seattle first and was quite disappointed. It's geographically beautiful, but there was a coldness to it that made me feel like I wasn't welcome. We then traveled down the 101 to Astoria and then over to Portland.
In 1990, Portland was a much smaller city, it was gritty (the Pearl didn't exist - it was just dark warehouses with the 24-hour Church of Elvis!), yet it had a charm that I never forgot. I also grew up in Cleveland, so gritty didn't bother me. In 2006, when my wife and I were discussing leaving London, where to go was a significant discussion. NYC, SF, Boston, and Seattle were all discussed. But, in the end, it seemed crazy to uproot and leave London for another expensive city, so we chose Portland. My wife had never even heard of Portland but was curious to learn more from me. In April 2007, we flew from Heathrow to Seattle, rented a car, and drove down to Portland for a 10-day visit. As we crossed the Fremont Bridge and my wife got her first view of the skyline, I could tell she was excited. We spent the next 10 days looking for houses, flew back to London, and prepared to move our lives 6000 miles away. In July 2007, we arrived with our 2 kids, our beagle, a cat, and no jobs. We eagerly awaited the arrival of our crate with the stuff that we kept, which was still on a ship somewhere on its way to Oakland and then a train to Portland. Our furniture eventually arrived, we soon found work, and our Portland life began. I lived in London for 14 years, and in July, my wife will have lived in Portland three years longer than I lived in the UK. Time flies.
Since arriving here in 2007, Portland has definitely changed. It's no longer the small city that it once was. "Portlandia" did a lot to change that. And Portland is certainly not immune to social problems. All cities, however, have their issues. And I do believe Portland will bounce back. Its neighborhoods are still the same. - they are vibrant and quirky, with great nightlife, restaurants, and bars. There's a definite charm to Portland and its tree-lined streets. Every day, we walk miles and ride our bikes all over town. Since moving here, we have missed the diversity of London and good comedy, and we wish Portland had a more vibrant visual arts scene. But we love film and music, and so many great small and international films come through here, as do most bands/musicians not named T. Swift.
And, of course, there is no shortage of fantastic record stores!
It's now home.
Enjoyed the read. I'll just go ahead and add Dead Moon, The Wipers and Mississippi Records, and the list goes on...