Day in Portland

JWise Moments, Travels

Up early and on the road south to Portland to meet up with Kirk and Rachel. I’m not really here. It is as though I am still in slow-wave sleep, one of the deepest stages of sleep. Or maybe I am in sleep inertia, the state just after being woken from a deep sleep when mental performance is yet impaired. In any case, I feel as though I’m drifting out of Washington and into Portland without plan, reason, or cause, and from the looks of the multitude of homeless people in downtown Portland, they, too, are hereby mysterious circumstances.

How about lunch? Sure, you guys name it; I don’t know this part of town. Hell, I don’t know any part of this town, nor do I know why I agreed to come here. I want to be at the ocean. I have gone on vacation to get away from it all, and now I’m in the middle of it all. How about this place? Yeah, give me a fork. I might at other times feel that my distance could be interpreted as rude detachment, but I’m working at convincing myself that I am moving into the abyss of old age and hope that those around me can accept and understand why so little of me is presently here and thus allow me to feel better about my funk.

Kirk and I were in competition for who could visit the buffet more times than the other. It was a draw, not that this meal would weigh too heavily upon us, as most of the dishes were vegetarian. Finished with our feast and being in the Pacific Northwest there is an unspoken demand that you stop every 20 minutes for coffee, else why the crazy proliferation of coffee shops? Rachel recommended a shop around the corner for the four of us to imbibe some hot black liquid energy. Wicked strong and well suited to take the pallor off an otherwise gray day.

Our mobile larder needed stocking, so shopping at something akin to Whole Foods was on order; we were delivered to New Seasons in the Seven Corners area of Portland. With plans to do some serious vegetarian cooking over an open fire, I piled the veggies into our shopping cart. Fortuitous this stop proved to be as we had bought a block of Beecher’s Flagship cheese that we fell in love with and would be surprised later in the trip upon visiting Pike’s Place in Seattle to stumble into their factory.

Our tour of Portland took us to Washington Park, which sits next to the much larger Forest Park. My spirits perk up; I am near nature. Vacation must be close at hand; the imagination is awakening. Not long after our encounter with the natural world, plans are made to return for some hiking in these parks with Kirk and Rachel. In minutes, we are delivered back to our dash animations and soon find ourselves gliding silently out of Portland on our way to the Pacific Ocean. We agreed to meet Kirk and Rachel for dinner in Astoria before our day’s journey ends in Ft. Stevens State Park, where a yurt awaits us.

A little Italian place is chosen where we have the chance to meet Rachel’s children, Cassidy and Ian. Ian made a great impression by first being listless, lethargic, and generally grumpy due to a cold or allergies until after dinner when, with great aplomb, he hurled what little dinner he had eaten upon the sidewalk. Kirk, not having a dog-pooh picker-upper bag with him, had to abandon the cheesy pile for the next dog to walk by – you just know a dog wouldn’t be able to help itself to that little midnight snack.

I felt for Rachel this evening; not only did she have to comfort her barfing boy, but earlier in the day, she voiced concern for her daughter Cassidy, who, as she described it, “is getting a little too hormonal.” It must be tough on a mother to think her kid is about to go succubus. Caroline and I failed to pick up this side of her daughter’s precocious nature as we were preoccupied with wolfing down dinner so we could make our way to the coziness of our yurt. We actually thought both children were pleasantly well-behaved. Kirk, Rachel, and the kids took off for their nearby hotel; we retired to our yurt, falling asleep to the sound of the ocean in the distance.

Note: I, too, wonder why there were no photos from this day, not even bad ones.

Finished

JWise Moments

I am done in Santa Barbara. My uncle Woody has been cleared by his surgeon to return to a normal life, for all that means to an 84-year-old man. For the better part of two and a half months, I have lived away from Caroline, home in Arizona. I have been frustrated, elated, and overwhelmed – daily. My schedule was not an option; more often than not, compromise goes one way here. This, though, is not a complaint. I find thanks and reward in having learned a little something about patience, caring, and sharing.

My return home happened a week ago, but I have needed this quiet, down, me, time to unwind and spend many a moment with my wife. The most important lesson came when my uncle was in the nursing center for his rehabilitation: loneliness is likely a more dire predicament than any illness or physical pain. Family neglect of a loved one and abandonment are the springboards into despair and loss of hope. Without real love and care, the spark of life quickly withers, and the corruption of age ravages the spirit and body to disregard what time may have been left here on earth. I wonder how few of us will learn this lesson while we can gain from it at an early age. Why are we so arrogant to refer to ourselves as a society when our aims for living and social conduct neglect teaching one another the necessity of compassion beyond our immediate family. There are selfless people all around us, nurses, teachers, volunteers, and many others, but they are unseen until our own needs expose their generosity to our naive fortress of me, myself, and I.

The lesson of love and tolerance should be taught as though it were math or science, but then, if we were a compassionate people, war would be all the more difficult, retribution neutered, hate and intolerance might be seen as archaic instead of brands of temporary awareness we sell people who are looking to buy an action to purpose before the next distraction is imposed upon their narrow focus of consumption.

Master Cleanse

JWise Moments

New Year’s Eve saw Caroline and I starting the Master Cleanse Fast. Our goal was a very simple one: try it for one day. Well, the first day was so easy it seemed to be a fluke, so a second day was in order. Having never missed a meal in 44 years, besides the occasional late lunch or dinner, which was made up for by snacking, the idea of not eating went hand in hand with the idea that I would be in pain, have headaches, be miserable, and get sick. None of that happened. The fasting was so easy those first two days that we had to challenge ourselves to a third, figuring that at some point, we would be overwhelmed with hunger and then stop. And so it went until the sixth day when the second bout of grumpiness convinced us that the following day, the seventh day, should be the end of our one-day fast. Of course, anyone familiar with the Master Cleanse knows that the first day after the end of the fast is not really the end yet. On Monday, January 7th, we only drank orange juice. On Tuesday, we started with OJ but were allowed vegetable broth for the rest of the day. I cheated at dinner and had four or five spoons of the veggies before guilt had me returning to the plain broth. Today we returned to “normal” eating, starting with soft boiled eggs for breakfast, veggie soup for lunch, and for dinner, we deviated from the program to split a green corn tamale plate at a local restaurant.

The fast was not undertaken to lose weight, I wanted to convince myself that I could do without food. This aspect of the fast worked; I now know I will not die missing a meal, nor will I fall sick. The second goal was to work towards portion control; if I can miss meals, then smaller meals should work fine to satisfy me; time will tell if this works out. Over the seven days, I lost approximately 20 pounds; Caroline lost about 6. Her clothes fit better and old clothes can be worn again, but I’m still too fat. Yet, I do look forward to doing this again, and if 10 pounds return but the other ten stay away, then doing this a few more times this year to drop a total of 30 pounds would be a welcome accomplishment in my world.

The Gap

JWise Moments

Unfortunately, I have a two-week gap here where photos should otherwise be. After my mother-in-law returned to Germany, it was time to shake off the visitor, return to privacy, do some spring cleaning, catch up on mail, and make new plans. Photos were the last thing on my mind; my creativity was sapped. Slowly, I return to normal, and guilt takes its place in motivating me to either post new material or do something else with my website. The worst thing about not posting new materials is not that I lack said creativity; heck no, it is that NO ONE COMPLAINS. Yep, that is my ego speaking sure, I would like to know that one or two people want new photos, even if I tell myself I am doing this for me.

Wooden Injun

JWise Moments

A wooden representation of a Native American outside a local Arizona business signifying this shop as selling old west souvenirs

Around Arizona, you will find corners where these old carved wooden Indians still exist. This stereotypical version of what the average Native American looks like is used to entice Americans of foreign heritage to stop in for a peek at some old-west souvenirs. I think these mockeries should be destroyed. We as a society wouldn’t allow some wooden depiction of a black man with a large afro, thick lips, and a broad nose to be featured outside of a BBQ restaurant, or how about a big-nosed man wearing a Borsalino Black Hat with side curls carved out of wood standing vigil outside a synagogue. My personal favorite would be the wooden Nascar Redneck, buck teeth, beer in hand, Ford cap, mullet, and a cigarette dangling from his lips – this one would work outside bowling alleys, cheap bars, and many a sports arena.

#Sarcasm