Friend Notes: Christy LaPan

Christy LaPan's Senior Picture as given to me by Christy.

Today is Christy LaPan's birthday.  Christy was a friend of mine in high school and she was taken from us way too early.  When I was in the 8th grade, I used to talk to Christy about going out with me.  She told me she wouldn't date me until I was taller than her.  I loved her energy and sense of humor.

She had a lot on her plate for such a young woman.  She was one of a handful of black students in a rural/suburban school dominated by white kids.  Her eyesight was also failing her.  She needed oversize textbooks at times in order to be able to process the texts.  She faced challenges with the bravery and conviction of someone much older.  Self-possessed and yet open to others, she defined for me what it meant to be a class act.

In celebration of her 38th birthday, I give you all this...

And this...

The last video.  Christy and her "Yo Mama" jokes...

Promise-ary Note: Promise #5

Thursdays mean it is time to draw the week's new promise.  As with last week's original draw, this one has to do with making time for a family member.  I wasn't able to find time to spend with my brother, so I redrew and took myself to the movies alone.

This coming week promises to be a good one because I know how important it is for me to spend time with my mother, and I know she wants nothing more from her sons, nothing more than time.

So, here it is:

I'm looking forward to it, Mom!

Promise-ary Note: Birthday Movie Night

I got the chance to celebrate my birthday with my family last weekend, but after work on Monday I took myself out.  My promise for the week was to go to the movies.  I've always loved going to the theater and used to go by myself relatively frequently.  There is something about sitting alone in the darkened theater and allowing the movie to wash over you in privacy that is so soothing to me.
After I finished my bar shift, I looked up what was playing at a number of local theaters.  I flipped from this one to that one in an attempt to find the right movie at the right time.  I decided on Gravity at 9:35.  I'd heard a lot of great things about the movie, and I looked forward to catching up with what all the buzz was about.

Picture courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures

Well, me being me, I went to the wrong theater.  I got confused after looking up all the different options and I wound up confusing the two big 16-theater locations.  The one I arrived at wasn't showing Gravity any time soon.  So, I shifted gears and changed my plan.  The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug it is, then!

Poster courtesy of MGM

While I wasn't overly enthusiastic about the first installment of this film trilogy, I thought I would give the second chapter a chance.  The film substantially exceeded my low expectations.  Like many others, The Hobbit is sacred ground for me.  The book transported me to other worlds very early in my reading career, and I've loved its intricacies ever since.  As a result, the underwhelming first film left a bad taste in my mouth.  I'm so glad Peter Jackson and the crew turned it around in this next installment.

What a wonderful birthday present to be transported away to the landscapes of my childhood imagination in such a surprising way.  While the film is not flawless, it was a pleasant surprise that capped off a wonderful, private birthday celebration.  When I crawled into bed that night around two in the morning, I was exhausted, but happy.  I crawled into the comfort of home and dreamed of magical landscapes like I haven't since I was a child.  Happy birthday to me!

I'll draw next week's promise tomorrow!

Bar Notes: Orenco Taphouse

Last night I got the opportunity to head over to the Orenco Taphouse on 1198 NE Orenco Station Parkway in Hillsboro, Oregon.  I was meeting a friend and colleague from Pacific University there and it was close for both of us as I was teaching that day.  As per my usual, I arrived early.  I'm habitually punctual, can't help it.  As I'd never been there before, it took me a minute to identify the place in the dense neighborhood of Orenco Station.  Once I did, I was in for a treat.

Image courtesy of Yelp

The Taphouse is a minimalist space on the corner, and upon entering you get a nice open feel to the place.  The style is industrial, with a lot of concrete, steel, and high ceilings, but with most of the tables occupied on a Tuesday night at six, it felt warm and inviting.  It was nice to step out of the rain and into this friendly space.
The service at Orenco Taphouse is minimalist too, in the good sense.  Customers are greeted with a giant television above the bar that displays the 20 rotating beers currently on tap, their relevant details (hop source, ABV, etc), and the price.  It even displays the style of glass you will get with the ounces displayed alongside the price.  It is full disclosure at the Orenco Taphouse.  There is even a clever graphical display that tells you how full the kegs are.  See the image below for what I'm talking about.

Photo courtesy of Home Brew Talk discussion board user Fuzze Wuzze
This board is actually from Bailey's Taproom, but Orenco Taphouse uses the same technology.

When you finish reading through the choices on the board, you step up to the bar and place your order for a taste or a glass.  The servers behind the bar were knowledgeable and friendly.  I was impressed by their ability to discuss any of the beers on tap.  The Taphouse isn't a table service type of joint.  This is very much a belly up to the bar kind of establishment.

Also, they don't serve their own food, but work in conjunction with other local businesses to have food brought in.  They have some light bar snacks for $1/$2, but you are otherwise phoning in your order.  I think this is great.  Orenco isn't trying to be everything to everybody.  They bring the beer and their knowledge to the party; let others take care of the food (which could be my new party philosophy!).

I had a glass of Cascade's Bipolar Imperial IPA and a Pils by Commons Brewing.  Both beers were excellent examples of their style.  I could have stayed and had more, but I had to beat feet before I had to phone for a ride home.  Always drink responsibly, folks!

Overall, I had a great experience at Orenco Taphouse.  It was exactly what one should expect from a taphouse: good beer and good conversation in a casual, drop-in neighborhood environment.  I will return when I'm meeting people on that side of town.

Thanks, Brent Johnson, for the invite and for bringing the A-game conversation.

Writer's Notes: Titles

I've decided to try something new with the titles of my blog posts.  I have multiple audiences checking in on this site, and each of those audiences usually comes in for specific types of posts which fall into how I know them.

My teaching community is interested in how I teach.  My family and friends are in it for the personal posts.  My writer friends pop in for the posts about craft or process.  In an effort to make my posts more easily identifiable to those individual communities, I'm going to start my titles with "(Role) Notes:"

As you can see, this post is about titles and the writing process of the blog, so it is titled "Writer's Notes: Titles."  I have an idea for a post later today about a taphouse I visited last night.  I will probably start that post with "Bar Notes."

See?  Easy-peezy, lemon-squeezy.

Male Teacher Teaching Feminism in the Classroom

I love addressing the issue of Feminism in my classroom.  It often sponsors some of the best dialogue throughout the entire term.  As such, I usually poke around for the Feminist issue of the day in preparation for class discussion.  Today, when I searched "Men's Issues" on Google News to cover the "other side," I discovered the following infographics.

These infographics are meant to help us decide if we are a feminist or not.  The first one is meant to be comical and to open the door to people who might be real reluctant on this issue.

Infographic courtesy of The Guardian's Emer O'Toole

The next is meant to address the complexity of feminism with a bit more realism.

Infographic courtesy of The Guardian's Emer O'Toole

I like the second one quite a bit, especially the responses to the middle box on the left.  It shows that there are multiple ways of "seeing" feminism, and this is much the same response I get in the classroom.  People possess all kinds of views toward gender equality, and it is often hard to get them to address them in public.

Early in any conversation I host around gender equality, I usually wind up asking, "Who here considers themselves a feminist?"  The number of hands in the air is usually in the single digits.  The first time this happened I was shocked, but I found that it wasn't that people were against feminism, but they often had misconceived ideas of what feminism was.

A good Feminism text for Beginners by Sally J. Scholz

After the first couple of times of lecturing my students after the meager response to "Who here is a feminist," I began asking students to define feminism for me.  This is a casual brainstorm where I right terms and phrases on the board for everyone to read.  Students simply call out their associations and I write until I get a pretty good response set.

Once the board has a number of different associations, we begin to address these ideas one by one.  I've found it to be the most useful exercise in teaching any form of equality.  I do the same thing with civil rights, race, marriage equality, etc.  Those hot button issues that are sometimes scary for teachers to address.

Instead of lecturing, of revealing your own politics, ask the students to reveal theirs.  Give them the safe place in which to analyze their assumptions, and you'll often find that some of the students leave with a somewhat clarified expression of their own beliefs.

Me Lecturing.  Oops!

For teachers, it isn't about making sure students adopt our politics, it's about making them take a moment to analyze their own and understand why they feel the way they feel on certain issues.  It's taken me a long time to come to this point...6 years, and I'm still improving on it, but it feels right when I hear students expressing themselves about complicated issues.  I simply have to remember to get out of the way and mediate the conversation so it doesn't get heated, to clarify points that may have been stated poorly, or to force a student to examine a presupposition of their own line of thinking.  Oftentimes, they even force me to analyze my own.

I consider myself a feminist.  Proudly so.  Some may argue that a man shouldn't be teaching Feminism in the classroom, but I would argue that students need to see BOTH men and women addressing the issue, even if they come at it from different angles.

SkiBowl: Cosmic Tubing

As an early birthday present, my wife whisked me away to Mount Hood for a weekend getaway with family and friends.  We spent the majority of the weekend hanging around the house we rented, taking walks, playing cards, and enjoying really good food, but the highlight of the trip was, by far, Cosmic Tubing at SkiBowl!

Photo Courtesy of SkiBowl

For those of you who have never done this, it is a must try!  We had so much fun!  For $30 per person, you get 3 hours of fun at SkiBowl East.  In order to get there, go through Government Camp until you can turn on Multorpor Drive.  This will take you right up to the ski area and parking lot (you have to have a snow pass to park: $4).  

When you arrive, you'll be greeted by the mountain lit up with neon and black lights.  The vibe catches you immediately, and the music gets you pumped up to get going.  When you buy your ticket, they'll pass you a glow stick as well, so you're soon decked out like a 90's raver.

Photo Courtesy of Skibowl

If you're worried about the exertion of hiking up and down the hill, don't be.  They've installed a people mover that takes you from the base of the sled hill to the top.  You'll be able to take run after run on your tubes without building up a sweat beyond the adrenaline rush.

Photo Courtesy of SkiBowl

Shea nearly exploded from excitement once she saw the place lit up.  Before that, she had been a little tired from hanging out in the hot tub and taking a walk earlier in the afternoon.  I knew she was going to sleep like the dead after all that activity.  More on that later...

We grabbed an assortment of single and double tubes and rode the people mover all the way to the top.  Once there, we loaded up Shea, and we all went careening down the hill.  Here is a video I took of one of Shea's early runs.  She is in the yellow tube about midway across the hillside with her Auntie Sarah.

While it is a quick way to drop $90 for a family of three, the fun and the memories to be had are absolutely worth it.  At one point the resort needed to bring out the groomer to regroom the trail, but there are plenty of other things to do.  We went inside and got a hot chocolate for Shea and some beers for the rest of us.  Then, we walked over to a HUGE indoor play area for Shea.  They also have a tower bungee jump, mini-snowmobiles for kids, and a bungee trampoline area.  Everything costs a little more, except for the play area, which is simply open to everyone.  In other words, there is something for everyone.

Everyone wore smiles all night long and we got a ton of runs in over the course of the three hours.  One major tip though: show up right when they open at 6!  The slopes were not busy until around 7:30 or so.  As the evening got later, it got busier.  A lot of people didn't stay for their whole time, so it began to thin out again at 9, but that first hour is where we saw most of our action.  

It was a lovely trip with my lovely wife and child (who both kept the secret from me for a whole week) and good friends.

My friends Jason and Sarah.

In the end, it was a quiet drive back to the cabin.

Happy birthday to me for sure!

Peace Out!

My wife just came home and is surprising me with a birthday getaway to the mountain.  I don't know where we are going, but it's going to be great.  See y'all later!!!

Packing like it is a crime scene!

Thanks for housesitting, James!!!

Revising A Promise - A Promise Post

My promise this week hinged on the availability of another.  As such, I am subject to their schedule, as is right and proper.  This week is a bad week for my brother, so I need to redraw for the week.

My original draw was:

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be this week. As such, I've had to redraw.  I drew...

I LOVE the movies.  I love the whole experience of going to the cinema.  In fact, I love it so much that I used to go alone to the movies I really wanted to see.  Sitting in the dark, alone, allowing the film to wash over you is a formidable experience for me.  I can't wait.  I'll have to survey the listings and let you know what I finally choose.

This one is a simple one, but one that I look forward to immensely.  Although I can't wait to hang out with Kerry either.

It Takes Big Balls to Be a Parent, Or Does It?

Photo Courtesy of Medical News Today

A study released in the fall of 2013 showed that men with smaller testicles tended to exhibit better parenting skills than their bulging counterparts.  It sounds ridiculous, but its true. The thinking that led to the study followed a train of thought similar to this one: previous studies linked lower testosterone levels to increased involvement in parenting, so this led researchers to question if the volume of the testicles (which is associated with sperm quality) also played a role in the parenting habits of fathers.

Their assumed reasoning sounds logical, right?

I read through multiple media treatments of this study, and the coverage was shameful.  Most outlets carried stories that basically said "Big Nuts, Bad Parent."

The fact that biology and behavior is connected isn't news.  The correlation is obvious, for there are many biological/behavioral relationships.  This one shows there is a linkage between mating effort and paternal involvement as indicated by the size of the testicles, but the truly interesting portion of the study comes in the later comments by the researchers themselves.

James Rilling, the study's author, says, "Event though some men may be built differently, perhaps they are willing themselves to be more hands-on fathers.  It might be more challenging for some men to do these kinds of caregiving activities, but that by no means excuses them" (Whiteman).

Obviously! In the news blurbs about this study, the nuance of the issue is completely downplayed.

It's fine for biologists to study the body/brain dynamic.  It's a wonderful exercise in exploring the world around us, but when news of this nature is being delivered, it needs to be tempered with a greater dialogue surrounding the mind/body relationship.

I can hear some of the men who frequent the bar where I work now.  "My wife wants me to (insert activity here) with my kid, but I got a pair."  Of course they'd be saying this in jest (at least I hope), but it is another arrow in the quiver of machismo, another way of closing the dialogue about what it means to be a man.  I'd like the media to sponsor a larger debate about how the biological, while the engine of many human behaviors, is not the driver behind the wheel, not the conscience that operates the engine.

Montana's Own Testicle Festival (Couldn't Resist)

Photo Courtesy of I Must Be Off

In the meantime, I think it takes a lot of balls to stand up and be proud of involved fathering.  I think it takes machismo to actively choose your children in ways that haven't, historically, been viewed as masculine.  I'm proud to say I'm a diaper-changing, doctor's-office-visiting, vomit-cleaning, dress-up-party-having, ballet-dancing type of father.  As to the size of my testicles? Well you can infer what you want.  This isn't Craigslist, people.

Whiteman, Honor. "Dads with Smaller Testes Are Better Fathers, Study Shows." Medical News Today. MediLexicon International, 11 Sept. 2013. Web. 24 Jan. 2014.

Bad Poetry - A Promise Post

My promise for the week was to write a poem.  I love poetry.  I open every class I teach by reading a poem aloud.  We don't revel enough in poetry as a culture, so I try and bring a little bit of it to my students' day.

I studied creative writing poetry as an undergraduate at the University of Montana.  I attended almost every single poetry craft talk possible when I was an MFA student at Pacific University.  I...am not...a poet.  At least not a good one anyway.

I haven't written a poem in ages.  When I was younger, I wrote poetry all the time, but I haven't concentrated on that form in a long time.  I do miss it.  There is something exciting about the brevity of a poem, about the small amount of time and space one needs to write the rough draft of a poem, and about the upswell I feel when I feel a poem coming on. I still have those upswell moments, but I've taught myself over time to ignore the impulse.  Tragic, really.

So, this promise was about indulging in the moment.  About allowing myself the space and the time to get inside a poem and try to wiggle my way inside its skin.  The results are not awesome, but it is a first draft of a first poem written for the first time since, I don't know, 2009, maybe?  Maybe before.  Could be.

Anyway, I wasn't going to post it because I'm embarrassed about it.  It is drastically incomplete.  The meter of the lines are caddy-wompus, there are these terrible rhymes and alliterations throughout and the urgency of the pacing I was looking for simply don't appear in this version.  Also, the ending simply falls off the end of a cliff.  I know, my own worst critic.  It is a terrible poem, but there is something inside of it that is worth salvaging.  And so the long work of the "real" writing of revision begins.  I'll keep working on it and see if I can't get it to come into full bloom.

Here it is:

Misdirected

I’ve been cleaning for days:

in office and bedroom,

in laundry and kitchen,

Inside cabinets, under rugs,

On counters and tabletops.

I’ve discarded tinsel and toys,

Chargers and tax forms,

Books I don’t like

and some that I do,

Poems half-written

and ceremonies too.

I’ve dug through essays,

full graded,

And lesson plans

complete.

I’ve thrown away a picture

Of crayon castle and horse

One of many, many more

my daughter drew me.

I threw out my pride,

kept in an essay I wrote

When I was a student

And still keeping things there.

I’ve cleaned cluttered sills,

discarding cobweb corpse.

And, lucky me,

look what else I have found:

tire tracks in underwear

laying on the ground.

The house busy bustles

with swish of broom straw

as I sort and resort

the “treasures” I’ve found. 

I sift through the layers,

an archeological task,

and I curse the skin flake

remainders of a life

cluttered full.

I work for days—

cleaning the house,

items to Goodwill,

and garbage upon garbage

to dumpsters and landfill.

I’m looking for space

where a poem will grow,

but I sit on the couch,

too exhausted to know—

upstairs lies my office

where no poet has shown.

To those who have made it this far in the post,

May the institution of poetry forgive me my sins.

Next week's promise?

I'm coming for you, Kerry!

Sick and Tired - Personal Day

This is my dog.

This is my bed.

This is my dog in my bed.

Good dog.  I'm going to bed.

After working many, many days straight.  I'm feeling a bit run down.  In an effort to conserve my energy, I need to take some down time.  So, I got my shift covered at the restaurant.  My wife is at work, my daughter is at school, and my mother-in-law is taking her after school.  It's naptime for this sleepy sailor.

More later.

5 Reasons Powell's Books is Amazing

When you live in Portland, Oregon, it is easy to take Powell's books for granted.  We have multiple locations of the independent bookseller, so you are never too far from the book of your dreams.  For those of you who are unfamiliar because of geography or because you are big box store book shoppers, here is a list of reasons you need to start supporting Powell's today.

5. Selection:

It only takes a moment once you've entered Powell's flagship store "City of Books" to realize that you are in the mecca of the printed word.  This individual location, one of many, is the size of a city block and has multiple levels to explore.  In each of their color-coded rooms, you'll find shelves upon shelves of fascinating subject matter from the obviously popular to the obscure and the rare.  According to their website, Powell's City of Books has over 1,000,000 volumes on their shelves.  These 1 million volumes are divided into 122 major subject areas and 3,500 subsections.  There is something for EVERYBODY at the City of Books, the world's largest new and used bookstore.

Photo courtesy of www.culturaloregon.com

4. Bookseller AND Bookbuyer:

Powell's specializes in both new and used books.  As such, their orange room is staffed with book buyers who will buy back your unwanted volumes.  Now, they won't buy everything, but they are more than fair with their prices.  If you want cash, then the amount is less than if you take in-store credit.  The difference is substantial, but you know you want to buy more books anyway, so take the store credit.  It can be put on a gift card as well, so you can buy over the website if you prefer.  In addition, Powell's does book buying over the internet as well.  They even pay your shipping.  How cool is that?  If you are running out of room on your shelves, but have an itch for new books, Powell's will take care of both sides of that equation.

The Orange Room during my last trip to Powell's.  Photo courtesy of me!

3. Environment:

The Powell's locations have that special something that make them dynamic environments.  Even the bookstore at the Portland Airport has a certain comfy quality that makes it pleasant to visit. Although, the City of Books location is the real gem in the crown of the Powell's locations.  There is something about walking into this store that excites even the most reluctant reader.  The cross-section of people present at any given time in Powell's is astounding and worth the trip for people watching alone.  In addition, they have a primo coffee shop just off the yellow room that provides a nice break and table seating so you can browse the selections you've pulled off the shelf.

Photo courtesy of Big Blue Globe.

2. The Staff:

Have you ever been to a bookstore where the clerk just doesn't understand what you are talking about or how to help you?  I have, and it is a frustrating expedition.  I have never had this experience in Powell's.  On my last trip, I ventured up to the yellow room and asked the clerk for some recommendations for good dystopian novels.  Together, we wandered the shelves while the clerk spouted off author and title suggestions one after the other.  He began schooling me in the subgenre of dystopian fiction called "cyberpunk" and gave me recommendations that stretched across the decades from the 60s to present.  It was a whirlwind of information.  This is the rule at Powell's, not the exception.  Every time I have asked a Powell's employee a question, I have either been met with an exceptional answer, or guided to an employee who could provide one.  

Miriam Sontz, CEO of Powell's Books.

Photo Courtesy of KGW.com

1. Community:

Powell's is an organization rooted in the Portland community, but its reach is felt way beyond the borders of this town and this state, even, some would say, this nation.  This doesn't stop them from being an organization rooted in the firmament of our own community.  Powell's does so much to bring writers and artists together with their readers and admirers.  From the ever-changing art exhibits in the Pearl Room of the City of Books location, to their wide array of readings, Powell's brings art to the people and has worked hard to do so since 1970.  It is a cornerstone of the Portland, Oregon, community whose scope and reach makes it a marvel amongst the doom and gloom reports of modern day publishing.  Just walk into any Powell's location and try and make the argument that the printed word is faltering.  In each of their stores, you will find proof that the world still needs books, writers, and readers, and that the institution of the written word is still very much alive and well.

Support your local independent bookstore.  If you aren't in the Portland area, then look around for yours.  It is important to keep them alive and well in our communities because they serve a vital function.

Papa Kyle's Surefire Recipe for a Good Day

Papa Kyle here!  We all in search of that special something that light up a day and turn it into something special.  In my experience, that special blend of happy be hard to achieve, don't you think?  I'm here to tell ya something about it.  Pay close attention now.  It be happening quick from here on out.

It's necessary to gather the right material now.  Start with the following:

1 cup of a good day's work doing something you love.
2 hefty doses of quality family time.
A half cup of routine
A dash of whimsy

Image courtesy of A Food Affair

Whenever following a recipe, it's important to choose quality ingredients.  So, how do you tell if you've chosen quality work?  Well, do you wake up ready to meet the day?  Do you anticipate the challenge you know you will find at work as opposed to dreading it?  Then, you have a quality job right there.  Yessireebob.  I got to sub for an instructor at PCC the other day.  Fiction workshop.  I was excited.  I had that spark, that energy, that drives a day forward and fills it with excitement and contentedness. That a good sign of good work...for me.  You got to grow your own garden for this ingredient.

Family time, now.  You can't be skimpy when it comes to the family time.  You listen to me on this one.  The quickest way to good days is to surround yourself with the people you love on the regular.  Morning, noon, or night.  It don't matter none.  You just get your hiney home and make good on the promise your family provides.  You play, you eat, you talk, you dance, you laugh, you snuggle, you do whatever need doing for those others in your life.  Hefty doses now.  Big as big can be.

Photo courtesy of Carolyn Anderson MD

Routine have a bad name for some.  Routine mean drudgery, mean boredom, but those people don't know what they be saying.  Routine keep a person strong, healthy.  Eating on the regular.  Sleeping on the regular.  These be good things for the soul.  Put yourself to bed.  Schedule your meals.  Plan ahead.  Those who say it be boring don't understand the benefits of a planned meal. Frees up more time for the family.  The planned meal be quick.  The scheduled bedtime put a husband and a wife in the bed together.  These things are good for the soul.  You just take my word now.

Art courtesy of Ann Rodriguez

I handle the naysayers right here.  You may wonder how one can have routine and whimsy at the same time.  Well don't be simple now.  The one doesn't void the other.  Every moment don't need routine.  Every moment don't need planning.  Every living thing got to breathe and you treat every day like it alive.  You treat every day like it need some air and some light, and you have a chance of making my recipe.  Get outside some.  Don't strangle the day.  Be gentle with it.  Find a moment.  You notice the moon be full the last couple of days?  Open your eyes. Take a moment. Slow down.  Walk outside.  Turn the t.v. off.  That glowing electric eyeball be waiting for you when you get back anyway.  The moment don't need be much, but it need be.

Throw all these things into the big bowl of a day and mix up real good, then you find yourself whistling in the morning.  You find your child smiling at you in the evening.  You find your spouse whispering your name when the lights go dark.  And the veil of sleep will bring you dreams both wild and real, for the waking life be just as happy as the sleeping one.

Start cooking now.  You just follow the recipe, hear?

A Daily Dose of Shea Cuteness

I don't know how it started, but it ended with some cuteness.  Tracy and Shea were in the kitchen when Tracy started to read the sayings on some wineglass markers we have in the cupboard.  Each of the sayings is supposed to be something you say about wine.  Shea thought it would be a good opportunity to choose who the descriptions fit best.  The results are pretty funny.

The memory card ran out of space, but I restarted as quick as I could.

That little girl cracks me up!

Abiqua Falls, Oregon - A Promise Adventure

The second promise I drew from my bucket o' promises was to take a drive in the country.  I used to do this all the time when I was younger.  I would simply get into my car and drive.  Most of the time I drove around the rural parts of the Willamette Valley from the Molalla Hills to Silver Creek Falls to wine country.  Oregon is a beautiful place, and I love getting out and exploring it.

Yesterday presented a whole range of weather as I traveled.  One minute it was beautifully sunny.

The next I was hemmed in by fog.

Neither one was a hardship because it never rained.  Not once!  For January in Oregon, this constitutes a great day!

Normally I wouldn't choose a specific destination for my trip, but I hadn't been to Abiqua Falls in over a decade.  A family friend brought it up the other day and I couldn't help but seek it out (Thanks Larry Stirber!).  This waterfall is tucked away in an amphitheater of rock hidden at the end of a mud and rock trail with fallen logs and a steep vertical descent.  It is only a half mile from the road, but what a half mile it is.  I was determined to get there, but it was harder than I thought.

I started out by following directions from Google Maps.  This was a mistake.  Google Maps is wonderful for the urban/suburban environments, but not so great for the rural ones.  I had printed out directions from the Northwest Waterfall Survey, but then I couldn't find them.  So, I resorted to using Google Maps as a tool.  It didn't work.  I wound up about 20 miles away from where I expected to, but it took me in a route that I didn't realize how far off I was until I was there.

At the end of the road where Google Maps dropped me off, there was a gate, just like I was expecting, but it looked TOTALLY different from when I was there years earlier.  I chalked it up to a faulty memory and began my descent down the trail into the small valley.  I hiked about a mile in when I realized I was in the wrong location.  A mile straight down.  So, I ascended the trail back to the truck and arrived huffing and sweating.  This guy met me near my car.

He charged the fence a bit and then backed away to a safe distance once he realized I posed no threat.

Determined to get to the Abiqua Falls, I dug through my truck and school bag until I got my hands on the directions from the Northwest Waterfall Survey.  At this point it was 3:30 in the afternoon and I was starting to sweat the amount of sunlight I had left in the day.

After driving for 20 minutes, I found my way to Crooked Finger Road out of Scotts Mills, OR.  From there, it is the simple matter of descending a steep grade gravel road for about 2.25 miles until you hit the gate I immediately recognized once I arrived.

The day was quickly turning to evening and the sun was well past the western edge of the hills, so it was getting shadowy.  The picture above of the trees in the fog is the view I encountered when I got out of my truck.  I debated continuing on or waiting for another day to make it to the falls.

Probably against my better judgment, I continued on.  I slipped and slid my way down the muddy vertical descent to the river, and as I progressed, the woods engulfed me in a growing darkness.  Once at the bottom of the valley it was obvious that I needed to get moving so I could make my goal.  The "trail" at the bottom of the canyon is simply the moss-less rocks alongside a stream where people have walked before.  It is not developed, just a vague impression of others having been there before you.

But the canyon itself is beautiful.  I hiked along the river, taking in all the ambient moisture in the air.  The mist from fog and the nearby waterfall infuses the air with a chilled wetness delights as it slides over your tongue and into your lungs.

The sound of the water cascading down the river is loud in this narrow canyon.  It bounces over the high rock walls, and, at one point before rounding a corner and entering the amphitheater of stone, the rumble of the water pressed into my ears like an altitude change.  The physical pressure of the water echoing off stone made me pop my ears.

And then there it is.  I rounded a stone corner and discovered it all over again.

I couldn't resist a selfie.

It was absolutely worth it.  I rested for a moment, taking in this wonder that feels like a secret, a private place where no one else could find me, and I felt lost in the best possible sense of the word.  Lost in the world, off the grid and alone in a way that is uncommon in the modern world.  I sat on a stone and listened to the water crash down in front of me.

I wasn't able to stay long as the light was quickly fading, but I will return.  I will for sure return when I have the time to bring a journal with me.  Abiqua Falls reminds me of great fantasy or adventure storytelling.  It could be the location of a great final battle, or the clandestine location where friendly factions meet to plot the overthrow of an oppressive king.  It begs to be captured in words, so that others can experience it in their imaginations.

Abiqua Falls was one piece of what was an otherwise spectacular day.

Promise #2?  Complete.

Promise #3?

I'll let you know how it goes.

Writing the Past - Writing Prompt Included

The last couple of days found me writing about my past, and the results astonished me.  I try to live in the moment and to not rehash the past too much, but there is something powerful about looking backwards.  It has me intrigued about what kinds of material I could find if I took a moment to revisit my own experiences.

In grad school, my friend Katey Schultz (author of Flashes of War) worked through a series of essays about her adolescence and childhood and her deep examination of her own past always impressed me.  While the subjects of her essays were communal and familiar to most readers, her ability to transform the common into the extraordinary gripped her readers and left them considering their own "simple" experiences.

It makes me think there is value in examining one's past.  As if on cue, I received a complimentary copy of a memoir writing craft book last night.  The book is full of prompts and exercises for examining one's own life in detail.

After all, some of the most common writing advice is "write what you know."  It's a good place to start, although Nathan Englander has some interesting things to say about this common, but often misunderstood, piece of advice in his piece for BigThink.com.

How is this kind of writing different from what I do on the blog?

Well, nonfiction essay writing is a more traditional form than the blog post and it means a much more focused and revision-oriented process.  Blog posts are off the cuff for me.  I don't revise them beyond one final read through once I am done typing.  For more formal works like a nonfiction essay, writers need to work through draft after draft to hone the language, structure, and form of the work in much more stringent ways.

It is a powerful form.  I suggest it for my readers out there too.

The way I was able to access my personal past over the last couple of days was to examine old photographs and to project myself backwards into those photo-frozen moments.  Only by looking at a picture of me giving a speech at my middle school elections did I remember the difficulty I had with an old friend.  Only by seeing a picture taken of old friends did I remember my love of dirt track bike riding.  The memories are lovely gems to explore personally, but I argue they are also grist for the writing mill, subjects of interest to others out there.  While many of us have the material, it takes the writer's focused attention and the patience to participate in self-examination in order to succeed.  The past is often more complicated than we realize when we open the door to it.

In an effort to share the wealth with my readers, I'd love to include a quick and informal writing prompt that may get you energized to try your hand at it.

Writing Prompt:
Flip through your old photo albums or printed pictures (try not to use digital photos for this exercise).  Be casual about this.  Look through the photos until you are struck by one you maybe haven't seen in a while or that elicits a specific emotional response.  Stop there.  Sit with the picture for a while and examine it.  Cast yourself back to the day it was taken.  What was going on?  Replay the day's events in your head.  Think about the days/weeks/months that led up to that moment.  Now, write.  Try to capture the essence of the day in exacting detail.  Don't be afraid to allow yourself a bit of commentary from your older self, but try and keep yourself rooted in the moment as much as possible.

Good luck!

Joe Peterson - Memories

The last weekend found me digging through old photo albums I encountered while cleaning my office.  The result was that I cascaded down into my childhood all over again, something I don't do often (maybe not often enough).  The joy I felt in revisiting those times made me reconnect with myself, past and present.  My life is a struggle to balance all the roles I want and need to fill in my life, something I take seriously.  I want to be a good husband, father, teacher, writer, brother, son, and friend.  But what is the origin of those desires?  How did I come to be this person?  Part of the answer lies somewhere in my past, and much of my past was spent with one particular individual: Joe Peterson.

Photo of Joe and I playing reporters at the Cutsforth's house circa 1984.

Joe is one of the best friends I had in childhood.  He lived down the street from me, just past the hazelnut orchards, a short bike ride away, and much of my childhood was spent over at his house, at his parents' pharmacy, or riding our bikes around town.  He was a spectacular kid, one of those kids with power and composure that went beyond his years.  He always impressed me, and I often tried to emulate him and his behavior.

As children, Joe and I were always coming up with new ideas for games to play, businesses to start, shows to put on, and adventures to create.  His imagination was a wonderful thing.  I remember imagining scenarios to engage in, say a game show, but it was always Joe who found a way to put it into action, who came up with the detail that launched the thing in new and exciting ways.  His mind was sharp and quick, as was his sense of humor.

Greer Smith's going away party at the Peterson's 1984

People found Joe impossible to resist.  Adults and children alike found him engaging.  When we were in Junior High, Joe, Chris Etzel, and I started Action at Ackerman a "news" show on local access television that kept the community informed about events at the junior high school.  This was Joe's brainchild, and he filled the role of lead anchor.  While I believe it was Harry Lee Kwai, the head of the local channel at the time, who came up with the idea and recruited us kids to participate, it was Joe who ran with the project.

It wasn't long before Joe designed a logo, professionally printed business cards for all of us, and solicited a fair amount of money from sponsors.  I remember traipsing into local businesses as a 12-year-old, Joe by my side, and asking for the owner.  Joe dressed the part too.  Dressed in a suit jacket and tie, he always played the consummate professional.  By the time we left these businesses, owners had cut us a check.  We bought a lot of soda pop and candy with that money while we edited our show.

Photo taken circa 1987 before Jen Shelstad's surprise party.

There was another side to our friendship though.  No matter how good of friends Joe and I were, we were also competitors.  I can't say for sure that he felt the competition the same way I did, but I competed with Joe.  We wanted a lot of the same things.  Both of us were ambitious boys.  We wanted good grades, to play sports, to excel in clubs, and, once, even the same student council position.  In middle school, Joe and I ran against each other for the office of President.  Joe inevitably won that position, and I was hurt, but I couldn't deny that he'd earned it.  As with most things he put his mind to, Joe excelled in campaigning.  His wit and easy way around people made him endearing and the obvious choice.

When I was young, I found this competition to be a terrible thing, a destructive force working against our friendship.  It brought me a lot of sorrow back in those days, but I've come to reevaluate it since I've grown up and become a man.  The competition I felt with Joe has transformed into something positive and purposeful.  In some ways, Joe is the source of my drive.  He taught me what it was to work for what I want.  He showed me how to imagine, to plan in detail, how to act in pursuit of my goals, and how to survive the inevitable hardships that follow the process of wanting.

My birthday party 1987.

I want many things from this life.  I'm not afraid to admit that fact.  I've already achieved a lot of things as a result of this wanting, this inner desire that drives me to push past my own status quo.  For that, I am proud and grateful.  I am proud to have been friends with Joe while he was alive. Yet I always return to the fact that I am grateful.  Grateful to have known him.  Grateful to have been a part of his life.  Grateful that he was a part of mine.  He is missed dearly by his family, his friends, his community.  

He was one of a kind.

Photo taken at the Peterson's house in 1983