I HEART OR

I do, I really do just so love Washington State's quirky neighbor to the south. Oregon is as purely American as Weird Al Yankovic. Oregon is also known as "the Canada of California," "the Mexico of Washington," and sometimes "the Spain of Idaho."

My husband and I drove down to Cannon Beach over the long weekend to visit my hypochondriac mother-in-law.

One of the things I love most about Oregon are gas pump valets. Yes, you don't even have to leave the comfort of your cozy, luxury automobile to refuel or just top off. By law Oregon requires people to be employed to pump your gas for you, and you don't have to tip them. I wish Washington would mandate such creature comforts for Washingtonians.

Pictured: An Oregon gas valet wearing an official day glow vest (a nod to the '80s), hoodie, beanie, shades and hipster beard.

It's true, this beloved Oregon law is primarily around public safety more than it is for convenience. The state's lawmakers believe the ordinary citizen is too stupid to operate gas pump equipment themselves safely. Now if only such laws existed in the Bible belt. I think there's a large percentage of the U.S. population in that region who inhale an excess amount of gas fumes. I digress ...

Admittedly, I get confused by Oregon's street signs. They just say SPEED followed by a number.

So are they telling me to speed? Is this a subliminal message to support the local economy's black market and buy speed at said dollar rate? Should I be driving at least 50? If so, 50 what? Miles per hour, kilometers per second? It's these subtleties that further enhance Oregon's charming mystique. I applaud the state's efforts to curb wasteful spending on additional ink for letters while at the same time keeping things interesting. Fact, Oregon drivers are statistically the slowest in the country. As I recall that recent study posted on Facebook, I don't exactly remember what they meant by "slow."

Speaking of mystique, Oregon has a couple county names that sound a lot like venereal diseases. Clackamas. Clatsop. I have also wondered how malignant the county name Multnomah is. Then, according to my friend Eric, there's the town of La Pine. As he drove through with a friend from France, it was revealed La Pine in French means "the penis." So if people living in Seattle are Seattleites; are the townspeople of La Pine called Penises?

Of course being from a state with one of the highest retail sales taxes in the nation, I love going to Oregon which has no sales tax. It's like the state is having a permanent 10 percent off sale. What's not to love about that?!

Oregon, you are so much more than Washington's weird step sister. Thanks for all the chuckles, The Goonies and for rescuing so much of Washington's unwanted garbage. You're a true friend.

Update on Mom 5/24/15

Hello All,

Hope this message finds you well. It has been a while since my last update. A big part of the reason is mom has been and continues to be doing wonderfully well. As of last Friday, mom’s most recent scans showed barely any sign of tumors; virtually non-existent! She’s still undergoing chemo treatments once per week, three weeks in a row with one week off. Being here in the Seattle area I’m convinced has allowed for the best possible care and treatment.

For the past month and a half, mom and Al have been spending quite a bit of time getting settled in their new place, which is coming together so nicely. For Mother’s Day Terry and I gave her our iPad 2, so she’s all setup on email and Facebook. Tech support is beyond not my forte, and it almost went a bit like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6A331B1oq8  

I recall having mentioned in a previous email, and just in case, please feel free to reach out to Patty direct anytime:

Please, she’d love to hear from you, especially to just catch up with you, what’s been happening in your life, etc.

Earlier this month I took mom to Gilda’s Club Seattle’s Surviving With Style fashion show lunch benefit. When my mom was much younger, my Grandma took she and her sister to department store fashion show luncheons. Our event was of course much different; quite an elaborate production with about 500+ attendees. Every model is a cancer survivor from all walks of life, very young to elder. Each model was introduced with their story. I for one found it beyond inspiring to see so many strong, courageous survivors as well as learn about their challenges. I thought it was great for my mom to know a vibrant community of people who know first hand what she’s dealing with are available to her and are wonderful people with the heart to celebrate life in spite of life threatening illness.

Martin Short was the master of ceremonies, and he killed it. Sincere, touching and of course laugh out loud hilarious, he shared unabashedly about how cancer has touched his life profoundly. Quite sobering to learn one in two men and one in three women (indeed the stronger of our species) will receive a cancer diagnosis in their lifetime. To me this phenomenon is more a symptom of an underlying problem and begs all of our collective, deeper curiosity.

The gentleman who quite reluctantly followed Short to make the donation ask had a very inspiring story of his own to share. He was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer. This was a man who coached his kids’ sports teams, was a professional and husband who was in his 40s; an active, fit non-smoker. He didn’t respond to any of the treatments. His disease progressed to stage four when the tumors spread to his other lung. At one point he was so ill, he was mostly in bed, lost his voice and could maybe make it up the stairs once a day.

Determination drove this man to further research options. He found a study he became eligible for. Only 26 people in the world were on this particular clinical trial. Within one week, most all of his symptoms subsided. Within three weeks his voice returned and he was back to jogging daily. I found this story miraculous and full of hope.

It’s important to regard each day a blessing, an opportunity to, as someone very close to me wisely put it, want what we have over having what we want. I digress …

Couldn’t resist a photo opportunity with mom at the event. I think she may be open to participating next year as a model. :)

In the meantime, Gilda’s Club provides free support and community to cancer survivors and their loved ones. Such an increasingly important nonprofit in our brave new world.

All my best

'80s Flashback

My mom recently unearthed a bunch of my old grade school art work she kept for me. This image is from a page in a book Mrs. Emmons' fourth grade class made for me when we moved and I changed elementary schools. This was one of the more creative pages, a crossword puzzle of "rock" songs circa '84. Not shown is a sidebar hint about the answers "they can go any way." Is that a metaphor for a day in life or just some child's play from a clever 9 year old?

Tim Wistrom's Seattle

He may not be known to many. In fact I didn't even know who this artist was until I recently did an online search for these works. I recall how captivated I was the first time I laid eyes on one of Tim Wistrom's post-apocalyptic Seattle prints. It may have been this very one. Something so haunting, isolating and beautiful all at the same time. At least to me. Think I was still in elementary school when these works began catching my eye in the early 1980s.

 

Around age nine, I built city ruins in my side yard with bricks and stone. I imagined the perils of ending one civilization and the daunting outlook of beginning a new one out of the rubble. I can't tell you why this fascinated me so. As a youngster I was always happy and exuberantly optimistic. Or perhaps there is a deeper nature in me, in all of us, one that is in touch with the way life works.

 

Just like each passing year; out with the old, in with the new. Seeing this image once more inspires me. I would love to know more about the artist. Perhaps he would allow me a brief interview ... ?

ENIGMA

If you haven't seen the documentary IRIS, you're missing out on a cultural icon; a true enigma. http://www.magpictures.com/iris/

Coincidentally, a recent past client cut me a few purple Irises from her garden a couple hours before I saw this documentary. She was unaware of my plans. Just one of those little synchronistic life events I felt compelled to make note of ...