For many Northwest residents who were old enough to remember it, May 18, 1980, invokes powerful, visual memories of the destructive eruption of Mount St. Helens.
Those too close to the mountain died. Other who were close enough to the mountain could actually see the eruption, and for those east of the blast, they can remember the massive ash cloud turning the sky dark and raining ash and pumice hundreds of miles away. Our house was in the path of the ash, but like most of the rest of the nation, my family watched the events on the TV news and read about it in the newspapers.
We weren't at home when the mountain blew.
We were visiting family in Nebraska. I was 14 at the time. Why were were in Nebraska at that time of year, I can't remember. My parents couldn't remember either. As dad remembers it, we heard of the eruption when we landed in Rock Springs, Wyo., for fuel. He thinks we were headed to Nebraska when we learned the news. But given that it was a Sunday, I wonder if maybe we were heading back to Oregon, and that news of the eruption turned us back.
To this day, I have bad memories of the Rock Springs airport. We seemed to have a helluva time getting past Rock Springs on our family flights to and from Nebraska. If we were ever to have heater problems or other mechanical issues, it required landing in Rock Springs. And there was absolutely nothing for a kid to do at the Rock Spring airport, which is way the hell-and-gone away from town.
I don't remember learning about the St. Helens eruption in Rock Springs, but I remember spending extra days in Nebraska, stressing about the school I was missing as a nerdy 8th-grader who wanted to get back home and not really understanding why this mountain, thousands of miles away from where we were then, and hundreds of miles from where we were trying to go, was stopping us from getting home.
Once we did get home, days later, it was a little easier to understand. There was still ash residue at our house in Eastern Oregon. Some friends had collected some of it into jars and told stories of what had happened there the day of the eruption.
I could empathize with all those European travelers earlier this spring who were unable to travel because of the volcano erupting in Iceland. I had been there too, 30 years ago. Although we were traveling by a small private plane, life and plans had to be put on hold until the air cleared.
Until Sept. 11, 2001, there had really only been 2 dates etched indelibly in my mind as major events of my lifetime. One was the day my daughter was born. The other was the day Mount St. Helens erupted.
In the years since, particularly after my daughter moved to Portland, I've gotten a bit nervous when St. Helens goes in to her more active periods. She has a might long reach when she's angry
For my family, we suffered a little inconvenience due to the mountain's wrath. Others suffered far worse. The scar left on the mountain itself is a very visible and permanent reminder of the awesome power Mother Nature can unleash when she's so inclined. Some of the Northwest's most scenic locations are a tribute to that power -- Crater Lake, all the volcanoes of the Ring of Fire in the Cascades, massive basalt flows, the Columbia Gorge. Perhaps it's knowing there is potential fire hidden beneath the icy caps of those mountains that adds to their beauty, majesty and mystique.
Showing posts with label Oregon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oregon. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
It's a learning experience
The editor and publisher of the paper I was working for asked me why my title was assistant editor."I'm the editor," he said. "You aren't my assistant."
I was dumbstruck. I was working for him after all. If he didn't want my title to be assistant editor, shouldn't -- couldn't -- he change it?
I quit referring to myself as assistant editor after that, regardless of what my business card said. I functioned more like a city editor, so I started calling myself a city editor.
I was reminded of that today by seeing a posting for a job at the paper I worked for back then -- a posting for an assistant editor.
It surprised me for many reasons. One, is that a news posting for any news job in Oregon seems pretty amazing these days. But I was mostly surprised to see that the title was still the same, even all these years after I left. It was 15 years ago this month that I left that job on the Southern Oregon coast.I was there a little more than two years. At the time, it felt like a lifetime. I made some good friends there though. Some of the people who were important back then in my personal and work life are still among my friend and several are among my Facebook contacts.
It was, as many people told me during my early career about work situations that were painful or difficult, a great learning experience. I hated the stress. I hated the rain. Perhaps that's why the bonds with the people were so long lasting. Enduring adversity together makes for strong bonds.
The news business has changed significantly since then. That paper, The World, in Coos Bay, has changed a lot too, including it's ownership, which has changed at least twice since my posting in the early-to-mid 1990s. According to the job listing, The World has gotten smaller too. It has lost about a third of the circulation it had back then.
The posting got me thinking about those days and those times. I'm glad I was there. It led me on to bigger and better things professionally. But I wouldn't want to go back. It's a smaller world after all.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Happy birthday, baby brother
Tuesday, Aug. 25, is my brother Dean's birthday.
The year Dean was born was an eventful one for our little branch of the West Family Tree. As my mom was getting ready for labor, my dad was buying a business in the thriving metropolis of Echo, Ore.
About a month after Dean was born, my dad piled all of our belongings into a moving truck in Western Nebraska and then he piled my mom, brother Ron, me and newborn Dean into a small plane and flew us to our new home in Oregon. We landed literally right outside our new backdoor. Our new home, on a small private airstrip out in the country, was also the home base for my dad's new business.
I doubt my brother remembers the trip. I was about a month shy of my 8th birthday. I can't say I remember a lot of it myself either.
It's hard to believe all of that was 36 years ago.
I was trying to figure out what to do for my brother for his birthday. My first thought was to shave part of his head, so he was a hairstyle more like the ones sported by my dad, brother Ron and I. But since I won't actually see my brother on his birthday, I opted instead to embarrass him long distance with a few photos from his recent past.
Happy Birthday Dean!
The year Dean was born was an eventful one for our little branch of the West Family Tree. As my mom was getting ready for labor, my dad was buying a business in the thriving metropolis of Echo, Ore.
About a month after Dean was born, my dad piled all of our belongings into a moving truck in Western Nebraska and then he piled my mom, brother Ron, me and newborn Dean into a small plane and flew us to our new home in Oregon. We landed literally right outside our new backdoor. Our new home, on a small private airstrip out in the country, was also the home base for my dad's new business.
I doubt my brother remembers the trip. I was about a month shy of my 8th birthday. I can't say I remember a lot of it myself either.
It's hard to believe all of that was 36 years ago.
I was trying to figure out what to do for my brother for his birthday. My first thought was to shave part of his head, so he was a hairstyle more like the ones sported by my dad, brother Ron and I. But since I won't actually see my brother on his birthday, I opted instead to embarrass him long distance with a few photos from his recent past.
Happy Birthday Dean!
Monday, April 13, 2009
Spring in Salem
Every year, I seem to miss the peak of the spring cherry blossoms on the Capitol Mall. Either the weather's not right, or about the time the trees are reaching optimum bloom, we get rain and the blossoms are decimated by a spring storm. But this year, I timed it right.
Last week, the weather was great on Monday. The skies were clear and blue and I ventured down to the Oregon Capitol, which is only about a mile or so from where I work, to get some pictures. I wish I had borrowed a camera from work, but got a few pictures I liked anyway.
By midweek, the weather turned gray and rainy and conditions have not been as good since.
Timing is everything, particularly with photography. You have to be in the right place at the right time. There's only one right time around here every year. I think I got the timing just about right.
We now return to our previously schedule clouds, rain and gray-skied gloom.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Some people just ruin things for everybody
I knew the minute I walked in the door that something was different. I hadn't actually been inside the bank in a while. Usually I do my transactions from home on my computer or outside the bank at the ATM. But it was getting late in the afternoon and I wanted to make sure the deposit got posted as quickly as possible so I can pay some bills this weekend.
The first thing I noticed was that the lobby had been rearranged and some more desks added right where the table used to be where people filled out their deposit slips. But that wasn't the only change. That honor was reserved for the bullet-proof glass in front of the tellers. I fell like I was back in Southern California again.
When I moved to Southern California 14 years ago this month, I was shocked to see bullet-proof glass when I walked into the bank to establish my account in California and get checks with my new address on them.
My friends told me that bank robbery was fairly common in the town where I was sitting up residence. Welcome to Southern California.
After living in California for more than 10 years, I got used to bullet-proof glass in the banks. In fact the only bank branches I was in that didn't have the see-through security walls were the bank branches inside grocery stores.
I got used to the glass, but I didn't like it. The glass made banking more impersonal. It didn't help that the tellers didn't seem to want people coming to their windows anyway. At one point the tellers starting asking me on every trip if I had tried using the ATM to make my deposit. For a while, they even set up an ATM in the lobby and had a bank employee going around to people in line offering to show them how to use it. I soon took the hint and started depositing my checks at the ATM and didn't have to shout through the little slots in the glass wall to deal with the tellers.
Eventually banks went to drive-up ATMs and then one employer offered direct deposit and I quit having to visit the bank at all to make deposits.
When I moved back to Oregon in 2005 I had to start going to the bank again from time to time. While my employer does pay me once a month through direct deposit, in order to get paid twice a month I have to take a draw, which is paid by check. Usually I deposit the check at the ATM but sometimes it's actually nice to go into the branch and flirt with the tellers. Maybe they don't consider it flirting, but given my lackluster social life of late, a smile from a lady qualifies as flirting in my book. Banking has been more personal and intimate on those visits because there was no bullet-proof glass. That is, until today's visit.
The branch I visit most often is on Market Street here in Salem. It's on my route between home and work, which makes it a convenient place to stop. Apparently it has proved convenient for people with less scrupulous intentions too, because that branch has been robbed twice in the last year, most recently in January. I guess that was too much for the bank. Now there is bullet-proof glass. So, now the tellers are certainly safer. But banking has become more impersonal again. I miss a lot of things about Southern California.
However, I learned today that impersonal banking conducted through bullet-proof glass was definitely not on the list of things for which I was longing.
The first thing I noticed was that the lobby had been rearranged and some more desks added right where the table used to be where people filled out their deposit slips. But that wasn't the only change. That honor was reserved for the bullet-proof glass in front of the tellers. I fell like I was back in Southern California again.
When I moved to Southern California 14 years ago this month, I was shocked to see bullet-proof glass when I walked into the bank to establish my account in California and get checks with my new address on them.
My friends told me that bank robbery was fairly common in the town where I was sitting up residence. Welcome to Southern California.
After living in California for more than 10 years, I got used to bullet-proof glass in the banks. In fact the only bank branches I was in that didn't have the see-through security walls were the bank branches inside grocery stores.
I got used to the glass, but I didn't like it. The glass made banking more impersonal. It didn't help that the tellers didn't seem to want people coming to their windows anyway. At one point the tellers starting asking me on every trip if I had tried using the ATM to make my deposit. For a while, they even set up an ATM in the lobby and had a bank employee going around to people in line offering to show them how to use it. I soon took the hint and started depositing my checks at the ATM and didn't have to shout through the little slots in the glass wall to deal with the tellers.
Eventually banks went to drive-up ATMs and then one employer offered direct deposit and I quit having to visit the bank at all to make deposits.
When I moved back to Oregon in 2005 I had to start going to the bank again from time to time. While my employer does pay me once a month through direct deposit, in order to get paid twice a month I have to take a draw, which is paid by check. Usually I deposit the check at the ATM but sometimes it's actually nice to go into the branch and flirt with the tellers. Maybe they don't consider it flirting, but given my lackluster social life of late, a smile from a lady qualifies as flirting in my book. Banking has been more personal and intimate on those visits because there was no bullet-proof glass. That is, until today's visit.
The branch I visit most often is on Market Street here in Salem. It's on my route between home and work, which makes it a convenient place to stop. Apparently it has proved convenient for people with less scrupulous intentions too, because that branch has been robbed twice in the last year, most recently in January. I guess that was too much for the bank. Now there is bullet-proof glass. So, now the tellers are certainly safer. But banking has become more impersonal again. I miss a lot of things about Southern California.
However, I learned today that impersonal banking conducted through bullet-proof glass was definitely not on the list of things for which I was longing.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Emerald staff on strike?
Are you following the dust up at the Oregon Daily Emerald? If not, you might want to check out this story about the Emerald news staff going on strike.
I won't try to tell the story here. It's bizarre beyond words, but apparently the students objected to a job offer to Steven A. Smith, thinking bringing him on board would someone threaten the editorial independence of the student journalists. Yes, that's the same Steve Smith who has been editor of the Spokesman-Review in Spokane, Wash., Statesman Journal in Salem, Ore., and Gazette in Colorado Springs, Colo. Smith shares his side of the story on his blog.
Forgive, me, but I find the whole thing funny, but sad. Where is the reality of the working world in this whole scenario? Journalists at a financially troubled paper choosing to go on strike? Now?
Makes me glad I am a journalist trained at Oregon State University and gained some practical experience at the Daily Barometer, although the journalism program (part of the College of Liberal Art, not a Journalism school). But the reality is, what I learned in school only got me that first newspaper job and a lot of training has happened since.
One of the things I learned outside the student environment was a point perhaps too subtle in understanding the First Amendment when I was young and more principled than experienced. The thing about freedom of the press is that freedom belongs to the people who own the press, not the people the owners hire to run the presses or cover the news.
This would all perhaps be a lot more amusing if my daughter wasn't thinking that she may want to go to the University of Oregon and study, God forbid, journalism.
On, and all you purists out there lamenting the rise of social media, guess what? I learned about the strike on Twitter.
I won't try to tell the story here. It's bizarre beyond words, but apparently the students objected to a job offer to Steven A. Smith, thinking bringing him on board would someone threaten the editorial independence of the student journalists. Yes, that's the same Steve Smith who has been editor of the Spokesman-Review in Spokane, Wash., Statesman Journal in Salem, Ore., and Gazette in Colorado Springs, Colo. Smith shares his side of the story on his blog.
Forgive, me, but I find the whole thing funny, but sad. Where is the reality of the working world in this whole scenario? Journalists at a financially troubled paper choosing to go on strike? Now?
Makes me glad I am a journalist trained at Oregon State University and gained some practical experience at the Daily Barometer, although the journalism program (part of the College of Liberal Art, not a Journalism school). But the reality is, what I learned in school only got me that first newspaper job and a lot of training has happened since.
One of the things I learned outside the student environment was a point perhaps too subtle in understanding the First Amendment when I was young and more principled than experienced. The thing about freedom of the press is that freedom belongs to the people who own the press, not the people the owners hire to run the presses or cover the news.
This would all perhaps be a lot more amusing if my daughter wasn't thinking that she may want to go to the University of Oregon and study, God forbid, journalism.
On, and all you purists out there lamenting the rise of social media, guess what? I learned about the strike on Twitter.
Friday, February 27, 2009
She was my first, but I'm starting to see the light
We've been together a long time. We've covered a lot of ground together. I wasn't sure our relationship would last this long. Family and friends tell me I need to move on. But it's not that easy.
When we met, I'd only been in California a few months. She helped me get through my first long hot summer in the Mojave. We've been together ever since that July day in 1995. I was only 29 then. And, well, she was my first.
She was the first, and only, car I've ever bought new.
Well, actually she's a truck. A 1995 Dodge Dakota.
I traded in a car I loved, a 1988 Honda Prelude, for her. But the Honda didn't adapt too well to life in Southern California. Someone punched the lock and stole some stuff out of it. But that wasn't enough to jilt her. The real reason for the breakup was that she didn't come equipped with air conditioning. That hadn't been an issue when I was in college in Corvallis. It wasn't even much of a problem during summers in Eastern Oregon. It certainly was not a problem on the Oregon Coast. But in the Mojave, where, if memory serves, every day in July that summer was hotter than 110 degrees, it was a different story. No air conditioning was definitely a problem.
So I traded her in. I decided to get a pickup, because I was a long way from home, family and friends and didn't know many people in town yet. My dad always had pickups I could borrow. I had a Toyota pickup part of the time through college. I might need a truck in California.
As it turned out in the nearly 14 years since, I haven't really needed a truck all that often. But I still have her, and she's taken good care of me over the years. There have been a few bangs and scrapes with inanimate objects. And one little fender bender when I couldn't quite manage the clutch and brake fast enough at a stoplight. Not bad for nearly a decade and a half.
When I moved back to Oregon in 2005 I thought maybe that might be our last summer together. But there was really no room in the budget for a car payment, so we've stayed together. The relationship was strained when gas got up in the $4 a gallon territory. When I first bought her I could fill her up for about $15. At one point last year it cost about $75. That kept both of us close to home on weekends.
The truth is, she doesn't get all the attention she deserves because money has been tight. The new tires she got late last year weren't really in the budget either. But she and I were both glad she had them when she we needed to navigate snowy roads in December in and around Portland and Salem. The guy at Les Schwab warned me that the brakes were showing wear too, but I knew I couldn't afford that bill with Christmas coming.
But we may not be able to wait any longer. A couple of warning lights popped up on the dash yesterday. The ABS and brake lights are on, glowing steady, and I can feel the mushiness in the brakes. I am nursing them all I can, but I know there is a trip to the brake shop in my immediate future.
Tires, brakes. That's stuff that need to be replaced from time to time. But that's not the only trouble she's seen lately. Last year after watching my daughter play in the state golf tournament she refused to start. Her battery cracked and the acid damaged the cables and some parts in the engine compartment. She had to be towed to a repair shop. It was the second time she'd been in for repairs since we got to Oregon. She needs other work too. She needs shocks. The windshield has a nasty crack. She leaks oil.
And the odometer reads more than 130,000 miles. Not bad, given her age. But I'm not certain how many miles she really has left.
I never thought she'd carry me this far. Or this long. She's been a loyal and trusted companion. I'll miss her when she's gone. And I'll miss not having car payments. But I won't miss the repair bills. I guess I know where my tax refund is going this year.
When we met, I'd only been in California a few months. She helped me get through my first long hot summer in the Mojave. We've been together ever since that July day in 1995. I was only 29 then. And, well, she was my first.
She was the first, and only, car I've ever bought new.
Well, actually she's a truck. A 1995 Dodge Dakota.
I traded in a car I loved, a 1988 Honda Prelude, for her. But the Honda didn't adapt too well to life in Southern California. Someone punched the lock and stole some stuff out of it. But that wasn't enough to jilt her. The real reason for the breakup was that she didn't come equipped with air conditioning. That hadn't been an issue when I was in college in Corvallis. It wasn't even much of a problem during summers in Eastern Oregon. It certainly was not a problem on the Oregon Coast. But in the Mojave, where, if memory serves, every day in July that summer was hotter than 110 degrees, it was a different story. No air conditioning was definitely a problem.
So I traded her in. I decided to get a pickup, because I was a long way from home, family and friends and didn't know many people in town yet. My dad always had pickups I could borrow. I had a Toyota pickup part of the time through college. I might need a truck in California.
As it turned out in the nearly 14 years since, I haven't really needed a truck all that often. But I still have her, and she's taken good care of me over the years. There have been a few bangs and scrapes with inanimate objects. And one little fender bender when I couldn't quite manage the clutch and brake fast enough at a stoplight. Not bad for nearly a decade and a half.
When I moved back to Oregon in 2005 I thought maybe that might be our last summer together. But there was really no room in the budget for a car payment, so we've stayed together. The relationship was strained when gas got up in the $4 a gallon territory. When I first bought her I could fill her up for about $15. At one point last year it cost about $75. That kept both of us close to home on weekends.
The truth is, she doesn't get all the attention she deserves because money has been tight. The new tires she got late last year weren't really in the budget either. But she and I were both glad she had them when she we needed to navigate snowy roads in December in and around Portland and Salem. The guy at Les Schwab warned me that the brakes were showing wear too, but I knew I couldn't afford that bill with Christmas coming.
But we may not be able to wait any longer. A couple of warning lights popped up on the dash yesterday. The ABS and brake lights are on, glowing steady, and I can feel the mushiness in the brakes. I am nursing them all I can, but I know there is a trip to the brake shop in my immediate future.
Tires, brakes. That's stuff that need to be replaced from time to time. But that's not the only trouble she's seen lately. Last year after watching my daughter play in the state golf tournament she refused to start. Her battery cracked and the acid damaged the cables and some parts in the engine compartment. She had to be towed to a repair shop. It was the second time she'd been in for repairs since we got to Oregon. She needs other work too. She needs shocks. The windshield has a nasty crack. She leaks oil.
And the odometer reads more than 130,000 miles. Not bad, given her age. But I'm not certain how many miles she really has left.
I never thought she'd carry me this far. Or this long. She's been a loyal and trusted companion. I'll miss her when she's gone. And I'll miss not having car payments. But I won't miss the repair bills. I guess I know where my tax refund is going this year.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Sunset on Sunset Bay
A visual reminder of why it's important to stop and enjoy life once in a while.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Group tries to put out fire heating calls for Sam Adams to resign
I hate acronyms. It seems there's an acronym for everything. But I heard about a group today that is just begging to be known by an acronym.
The realization came to me while watching the 11 o'clock news on KATU, the ABC affiliate in Portland. They were leading the newscast with the latest story on the scandal surrounding Portland Mayor Sam Adams.
The story prominently featured Hollie Teal, a supporter of Adams, who believes he should stay in office in spite of his admission that he lied about a sexual relationship he had with a young male a few years ago.
Hollie is working to rally support for Adams. She's started a blog, Sam is Still My Mayor, and a group on Facebook that already has 130 members.
In Teal's interview with KATU she gave the group of supporters an unofficial name. "We are the People in Support of Sam," Teal said. Seems an appropriate name to me. People in Support of Sam -- P.I.S.S. -- because Adams has undoubtedly pissed all over his political career.
I'm fascinated by the Adams scandal story, but the things I want to know aren't the things that are making the evening news, the morning papers or the media websites. I want to know the story behind the story. Rumors of Adams' involvement with the other man in this story were apparently circulating years ago, before Adams officially began his run for mayor. But I want to know what pushed it to the forefront now, after Adams was seated as mayor. I want to know what the conversations were like in the Oregonian newsroom, where Adams' partner works as an investigative reporter.
Sure, I'll check in periodically to follow developments in the story. My daughter lives in Portland, so how the city is run, and who runs it, are of obvious interest. But what I'm really interested in is finding links to the story behind the story of how this broke and the intrigue of how journalists and politicians are intermingled here, like the former Portland Mercury reporter who had been trying to track down the sex rumor and ended up on Adams staff.
Media organizations are good at aggressively pursuing a big, breaking news story and political scandal revealed (in this case, finally, as I understand it, by Willamette Week, to home Adams first confessed his lie). But I am particularly interesting in the story behind the story and how the story made its way to publication/broadcast/posting. Now some of those details are coming to light, like Willamette Week's story on why Adams confessed. I also find it fascinating when media report on the actions of other media. It is, surely, one of the benefits of having a competitive media environment with watchdogs keeping and eye on the actions of government, elected leaders and public servants.
So many media outlet are in financial trouble now, along with the economy, and journalists are among those frequently joining the ranks of the unemployed. One has to wonder how many competitive media market, or how competitive those markets will be, after all the economic dust settles.
This story is fascinating on so many levels. Yep, it's a real P.I.S.S.er.
The realization came to me while watching the 11 o'clock news on KATU, the ABC affiliate in Portland. They were leading the newscast with the latest story on the scandal surrounding Portland Mayor Sam Adams.
The story prominently featured Hollie Teal, a supporter of Adams, who believes he should stay in office in spite of his admission that he lied about a sexual relationship he had with a young male a few years ago.
Hollie is working to rally support for Adams. She's started a blog, Sam is Still My Mayor, and a group on Facebook that already has 130 members.
In Teal's interview with KATU she gave the group of supporters an unofficial name. "We are the People in Support of Sam," Teal said. Seems an appropriate name to me. People in Support of Sam -- P.I.S.S. -- because Adams has undoubtedly pissed all over his political career.
I'm fascinated by the Adams scandal story, but the things I want to know aren't the things that are making the evening news, the morning papers or the media websites. I want to know the story behind the story. Rumors of Adams' involvement with the other man in this story were apparently circulating years ago, before Adams officially began his run for mayor. But I want to know what pushed it to the forefront now, after Adams was seated as mayor. I want to know what the conversations were like in the Oregonian newsroom, where Adams' partner works as an investigative reporter.
Sure, I'll check in periodically to follow developments in the story. My daughter lives in Portland, so how the city is run, and who runs it, are of obvious interest. But what I'm really interested in is finding links to the story behind the story of how this broke and the intrigue of how journalists and politicians are intermingled here, like the former Portland Mercury reporter who had been trying to track down the sex rumor and ended up on Adams staff.
Media organizations are good at aggressively pursuing a big, breaking news story and political scandal revealed (in this case, finally, as I understand it, by Willamette Week, to home Adams first confessed his lie). But I am particularly interesting in the story behind the story and how the story made its way to publication/broadcast/posting. Now some of those details are coming to light, like Willamette Week's story on why Adams confessed. I also find it fascinating when media report on the actions of other media. It is, surely, one of the benefits of having a competitive media environment with watchdogs keeping and eye on the actions of government, elected leaders and public servants.
So many media outlet are in financial trouble now, along with the economy, and journalists are among those frequently joining the ranks of the unemployed. One has to wonder how many competitive media market, or how competitive those markets will be, after all the economic dust settles.
This story is fascinating on so many levels. Yep, it's a real P.I.S.S.er.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
If you can't go home, sometimes home can come to you
Tom Wolfe wrote the book "You Can't go Home Again." I used to think Wolfe's title was right. I left the small town where I grew up 24 years ago for college and have been gone pretty much ever since, except for a couple of years in my mid 2os. The reason I used to think Wolfe was right about not being able to go home is that the home we return to isn't how, or what, we remember. The place changes. We change. Life goes on. But the truth is, there's really no need to try to go back to something that never leaves you. You take home with you wherever you go.
Friday night, home came to visit me.
Actually, we met up in McMinnville, where my alma mater was playing in a state football playoff game. The Echo Cougars vs. the Perrydale Pirates. To give you an idea of how small my town and school was, and still is, they compete in a league that plays 8-man football and many -- most -- of the players play virtually every play, on offense and defense. There was no cheerleading squad, just students and parents, cheering and changing in the stands.
Unfortunately, my old school, the Cougs, didn't win, but I feel like I did. I got to see some old friends, who now have children or nephews playing on the team and get caught up on some of the quarter century of life that's passed since we spent time together. Back then, I couldn't wait to get out of town. I felt trapped. Suffocated. People knew way too much about me and my business. But Friday night if felt good to be feel so at home, if only for a little while.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Who can promise real change for a better future?
My ballot and the voter's pamphlets sit a few feat away on a foot stool. Election Day is less that a week away. It may prove to be one of the most important elections of a generation, yet I find I'm not yet ready to mark my ballot.
I miss going to the polls on Election Day. It feels more significant somehow to go to the polls and cast a vote. A vote at the polls seems more like I'm fulfilling a civic right, like I'm more a participant in the process.
I'll probably end up doing like I have the last couple of elections and drop off my ballot at one of the drop-off spots, rather than mailing it in. It feels more like going to the polls that way. That, and I need a deadline -- a ticking clock -- to get me moving on some projects, whether at home or at work.
I am pretty sure I know how I'm going to vote on the major races (but won't divulge that here. That's a secret I'll keep for my ballot). But the ballot measures are another matter. I'm becoming a cranky old curmudgeon on ballot measure. I am tempted to vote no on everything. I believe the initiative process can be an important part of American civics. However, it mostly seems a sign that the America political system is broken. Our elected leaders (at the federal and state levels), entrenched in divisive partisan politics, seem unable to govern. Unable to practice statesmanship. Unable to make the difficult, important choices to move us forward and away from simplistic, stereotypical rhetoric.
The people have tried to take action, force change, through things like establishing term limits in various states. But instead of making things better, it has only made things worse by leaving the lobbyists and appointed bureaucrats with the influence, power and institutional knowledge necessary to negotiate the process.
Can any of these men and women running for office, seeking our vote on Tuesday, lead us to a better world?
It's a simple vote: Yes or No?
I miss going to the polls on Election Day. It feels more significant somehow to go to the polls and cast a vote. A vote at the polls seems more like I'm fulfilling a civic right, like I'm more a participant in the process.
I'll probably end up doing like I have the last couple of elections and drop off my ballot at one of the drop-off spots, rather than mailing it in. It feels more like going to the polls that way. That, and I need a deadline -- a ticking clock -- to get me moving on some projects, whether at home or at work.
I am pretty sure I know how I'm going to vote on the major races (but won't divulge that here. That's a secret I'll keep for my ballot). But the ballot measures are another matter. I'm becoming a cranky old curmudgeon on ballot measure. I am tempted to vote no on everything. I believe the initiative process can be an important part of American civics. However, it mostly seems a sign that the America political system is broken. Our elected leaders (at the federal and state levels), entrenched in divisive partisan politics, seem unable to govern. Unable to practice statesmanship. Unable to make the difficult, important choices to move us forward and away from simplistic, stereotypical rhetoric.
The people have tried to take action, force change, through things like establishing term limits in various states. But instead of making things better, it has only made things worse by leaving the lobbyists and appointed bureaucrats with the influence, power and institutional knowledge necessary to negotiate the process.
Can any of these men and women running for office, seeking our vote on Tuesday, lead us to a better world?
It's a simple vote: Yes or No?
Saturday, October 25, 2008
An intra-family Civil War may be brewing
My daughter was one of hundreds, if not thousands, of high school students to take part in the University of Oregon college visitation today in Eugene. The Oregon campus was also host to the Society of Professional Journalists of Oregon and Southwest Washington's Build a Better Journalist conference.I had decided to go to the college visitation when I got an e-mail at work about the conference, so I decided maybe I would try to participate in that too while I was in town and on campus. I figured it would allow me to show my interest and support, without subjecting my daughter to having to endure both parents tagging along all day.
Sounded like a good idea to me. But I'm paying the price now. I'm exhausted from crisscrossing the campus all day long to meet up with family for some things then attend some sessions of the conference. I'm tired, but it's a good tired.
And, truth be told, I'm also proud of the fact that one of the reasons Suzanna wanted to visit the University of Oregon campus is that she may be interested in studying journalism at the U of O. There's enough pride that I could even handle my daughter being a Duck, no matter what she decides to study. That's a little tough for an Oregon State Beaver to admit. But the reality is Oregon State can't compete as a training ground for journalists. Maybe it never could, but there are many OSU alumni who have, or still are, skilled journalists out there. But we are becoming a rarer breed, as the journalism department at OSU was shuttered a few years after I earned my degree there. You can't even get the degree I got at Oregon State anymore.
Regardless of where Suzanna goes to school, or what she decides to study, I am getting excited for her, planning for college and planning for her future. Maybe it's because college was such a great adventure for me and a voyage of self discovery about so many things. It wasn't just getting the education and the skills needed to start a career. I found myself in college and was introduced to a wider world of people, options and opportunities that I didn't even know existed. Just being on the U of O campus today, with its red brick buildings, grass-lined paths and colored leaves floating to the ground, I was reminded of many of my college experiences. I hope she has a great college experience with many fond memories that last her a lifetime. I know I'm not yet ready for her to be grown up and all on her own, but I am so proud of the young woman she has become.
As we walked through the Duck Store at the end of the day, I realized that may there is room in the wardrobe for some non-Beaver collegiate logo apparel in my wardrobe. Maybe, I could wear something that identifies me as a Duck dad.
As I was walking back to my truck I caught myself daydreaming about attending a Civil War football game with my daughter some fall day in the not-too-distant future. Maybe it could happen. I could handle a Duck daughter, as long as she can handle her college friends seeing me in my Beaver gear walking beside her over the Autzen Bridge.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Ode to a dream job
Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I wasn't a journalist. I used to be fond of saying, "I can always pump gas," based on my experience working for my dad when I was a teen. One of my jobs was servicing the airplanes, pickups and other rigs around the place. That involved pumping a lot of gas.
For a decade I had to stop saying "I can always pump gas," because it didn't make since to anyone in California when I lived there. California had self-service gas stations. Everyone pumped gas in California.
Now, I suppose, I could use the line again as a born-again Oregonian. I don't think my creditors would support the career change though.
But I may have found it. I have a new dream job.
I want to be a copy writer for Del Taco tray liners.
Seriously.
On my way home from work I decided to stop off for dinner someplace where I could get a taste of California. I have been eating at home primarily lately, and frankly, my cooking skills leave something to be desired. I needed a change. There is one Del Taco restaurant in Salem and it reminds me of SoCal. For several years I lived just a few miles down the road from Yermo, Calif., the birthplace of the Mexican fast food chain. Although, as I recall, Barstow tries to claim for Del Taco's founding. If you've ever been to Barstow, you'd understand the people there need to be known for something beyond being a piss stop between L.A. and Las Vegas.
I was never a big fan of Barstow, but I loved the California deserts. The Mojave, with it's Joshua trees, the Colorado, with it's palm trees and mountain vistas. And warm, no, HOT sun and dry air. It was nirvana, and I needed a little reminder of that Eden to start my weekend.
So there I was, enjoying my soft tacos and daydreaming about the desert when I look down and there, on thin paper lining a plastic tray, was my key to a new career aspiration.
Whoever wrote the "Ode to the Bold" as part of Del Taco's "Go Bold or Go Home" campaign may have the best job ever.
Here's an excerpt.
"Here's to the pioneers. ... To the first to look a bull in the eyes and say, 'Yea, I'm gonna ride that. And with one hand.' Here's to the uninhibited. ... The lovers that honor one another with tattoos, The streakers. And the mooners. Here's to the brave. To those who can't karaoke, but karaoke anyway. ... Or objected at a wedding that needed an objection (thank you, thank you, thank you). Here's to the rule-breakers. ... And all the 4s out thee who married a 10. Here's to you, our customers. ... For you are the bold."
Made me feel like a stud for just eating a taco. I'm glad a went for the Del Scorcho sauce.
If you are going to go bold, you have to go all the way.
I kept the tray liner. I'm thinking of having it framed.
I wonder if the tray liner writer job comes with any pirques, like free combo burritos?
For a decade I had to stop saying "I can always pump gas," because it didn't make since to anyone in California when I lived there. California had self-service gas stations. Everyone pumped gas in California.
Now, I suppose, I could use the line again as a born-again Oregonian. I don't think my creditors would support the career change though.
But I may have found it. I have a new dream job.
I want to be a copy writer for Del Taco tray liners.
Seriously.
On my way home from work I decided to stop off for dinner someplace where I could get a taste of California. I have been eating at home primarily lately, and frankly, my cooking skills leave something to be desired. I needed a change. There is one Del Taco restaurant in Salem and it reminds me of SoCal. For several years I lived just a few miles down the road from Yermo, Calif., the birthplace of the Mexican fast food chain. Although, as I recall, Barstow tries to claim for Del Taco's founding. If you've ever been to Barstow, you'd understand the people there need to be known for something beyond being a piss stop between L.A. and Las Vegas.
I was never a big fan of Barstow, but I loved the California deserts. The Mojave, with it's Joshua trees, the Colorado, with it's palm trees and mountain vistas. And warm, no, HOT sun and dry air. It was nirvana, and I needed a little reminder of that Eden to start my weekend.
So there I was, enjoying my soft tacos and daydreaming about the desert when I look down and there, on thin paper lining a plastic tray, was my key to a new career aspiration.
Whoever wrote the "Ode to the Bold" as part of Del Taco's "Go Bold or Go Home" campaign may have the best job ever.
Here's an excerpt.
"Here's to the pioneers. ... To the first to look a bull in the eyes and say, 'Yea, I'm gonna ride that. And with one hand.' Here's to the uninhibited. ... The lovers that honor one another with tattoos, The streakers. And the mooners. Here's to the brave. To those who can't karaoke, but karaoke anyway. ... Or objected at a wedding that needed an objection (thank you, thank you, thank you). Here's to the rule-breakers. ... And all the 4s out thee who married a 10. Here's to you, our customers. ... For you are the bold."
Made me feel like a stud for just eating a taco. I'm glad a went for the Del Scorcho sauce.
If you are going to go bold, you have to go all the way.
I kept the tray liner. I'm thinking of having it framed.
I wonder if the tray liner writer job comes with any pirques, like free combo burritos?
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
A night reminiscing reminiscing about sunny days gone by
It's rather amazing to find that when I have a life, and life it, I don't have much time to post to the blog.Last weekend, I had the distinct pleasure of taking my daughter out to lunch for her birthday. And while I did find time to write a post about that, I haven't spent much time in recreational writing since then.
On Friday, a couple of friends and former coworkers were coming through Portland and I met them for dinner and drinks. We spent far too few fun-filled hours sharing stories of the old days (roughly about 3-8 years ago) when we worked together. There were tales of people we encountered along the way.
Two members of our party are now living here in the Northwest, still enduring a winter than refuses to yield to spring, in spite of the longer days an blossoms on the trees, now being beaten off the branches by those mythical April showers. But the third member of our triumvirate still lives in sunny Southern California. I'm sure you can tell who is the sun worshipper by the photo.
It fascinates me how sometimes time can melt away when friends or family get together after an absence. Weeks, or months -- even years -- can disappear, almost as if no time at all has passed. But for our little trio, a surprising amount of time has passed. It's been about five years since we shared a good meal, good drink, good stories and good laughs.
My friends, Julie and Cindy, and I worked together at a newspaper in Palm Springs. Working in an environment of deadline pressure and high expectations forged some tight bonds, and forced some others to unravel.
I feel lucky to have made some good friends during the years I spend in California. But there is a sadness to it too, realizing that circumstances and distance have scattered us to all corners of the country. I don't see so many of the people that I grew to admire and respect, personally and professionally.
But for a few hours on Friday, time not only stood still, but the clock turned backwards to a time when the 21st century was just beginning and the sun shone every day. And the days the sun didn't shine were so unusual that it made news.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Could the future president be coming to town?
Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama is coming to Oregon at the end of the week and he is scheduled to make an appearance in Salem.
According to the Statesman Journal website, tickets are required at his Salem appearance, but no more tickets are available.
I don't talk about my politics, even with friends, so I won't say who I will be voting for in the Oregon primary or in November. Actually, I'm not sure if I'll get to vote for anyone in the primary, since I also didn't tell state election officials my politics and I am not affiliated with a major (or minor) political party. But I am a little intrigues by the opportunity to see someone who could be a future president with my own eyes.
Perhaps I was born too late. I love lots of the modern technological conveniences and devices, but I miss campaign style of earlier generations where candidates made their stump speeches from the backs of trains at a railroad siding while traveling the nation.
I got to meet a former president once and covered a couple of presidential candidates' appearances in Oregon when I was in college -- Jesse Jackson and Michael Dukakis. Papers I've worked for have covered campaign appearances, but I was long since relegated to desk duty during those events.
Maybe I just forget the feeling and excitement of those appearances because so much time has passed. But Obama's candidacy seems to be different. There is an energy and excitement out there among the public and the mainstream press. I guess I am intrigues at the idea of find out what that excitement is all about for myself.
Odds are, I won't go. I probably wouldn't get to a spot where I would see anything more than the candidate's motorcade anyway. It's just exciting that at least one of the primary races is close enough that a candidate will make several Oregon appearances. Back in January, I figured it both races would be long over by the time Oregon's primary rolled around in May. I don't we will see McCain or the Democratic Party nominee before the November general election. Oregon just isn't a big enough state with enough voters to matter in the fall, unless they make a quick pass through Portland en route to Seattle or somewhere else.
I'll also be curious to see whether Hillary Clinton visits any other cities besides Portland prior to the primary.
According to the Statesman Journal website, tickets are required at his Salem appearance, but no more tickets are available.
I don't talk about my politics, even with friends, so I won't say who I will be voting for in the Oregon primary or in November. Actually, I'm not sure if I'll get to vote for anyone in the primary, since I also didn't tell state election officials my politics and I am not affiliated with a major (or minor) political party. But I am a little intrigues by the opportunity to see someone who could be a future president with my own eyes.
Perhaps I was born too late. I love lots of the modern technological conveniences and devices, but I miss campaign style of earlier generations where candidates made their stump speeches from the backs of trains at a railroad siding while traveling the nation.
I got to meet a former president once and covered a couple of presidential candidates' appearances in Oregon when I was in college -- Jesse Jackson and Michael Dukakis. Papers I've worked for have covered campaign appearances, but I was long since relegated to desk duty during those events.
Maybe I just forget the feeling and excitement of those appearances because so much time has passed. But Obama's candidacy seems to be different. There is an energy and excitement out there among the public and the mainstream press. I guess I am intrigues at the idea of find out what that excitement is all about for myself.
Odds are, I won't go. I probably wouldn't get to a spot where I would see anything more than the candidate's motorcade anyway. It's just exciting that at least one of the primary races is close enough that a candidate will make several Oregon appearances. Back in January, I figured it both races would be long over by the time Oregon's primary rolled around in May. I don't we will see McCain or the Democratic Party nominee before the November general election. Oregon just isn't a big enough state with enough voters to matter in the fall, unless they make a quick pass through Portland en route to Seattle or somewhere else.
I'll also be curious to see whether Hillary Clinton visits any other cities besides Portland prior to the primary.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Making a splash in the Oregon desert
Is this a sign of another Eastern Oregon Internet celebrity?
Hey, towns like Hermiston, Ore., don't warrant much of a mention from the likes of the Oregonian, unless it relates to the chemical weapons being incinerated near there. But who cares about the Oregonian, this puppy's (or Bulldog) has apparently been feature on ESPN baby! Come to think of it, Dick Vitale would fit right in in Hermiston.
I actually learned about the video from watching KATU Channel 2, which had an angle on the basketball video that differs from the YouTube video that's garnered tens of thousands of views. I'm not sure where that video came from, but the one on YouTube is the "original" one getting popular via the Web.
How come my Hermiston-related video hasn't gone viral yet? I guess I shouldn't have edited out the slam dunk of a watermelon.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Voters strip mayor of gavel for posing in panties
The mayor of the tiny town of Arlington, Ore., got dooced this week by her constituents. See the full story from the East Oregonian.
Some people just have no sense of humor. Come on, just how many mayors would anyone want to see in their underwear on a fire truck?
There are mayors embroiled in even bigger scandals than this one. Like the mayor of Detroit, Mich. And remember Marion Barry?
Well, I guess there are two lessons to learn from now-ousted Mayor Carmen Kontur-Gronquist's scandal.
One lesson related to the Detroit mayoral scandal too and that is that political (sexual or skin) scandal has now ventured into cyberspace and the wireless world.
The other thing of note in this age of voter apathy is that sometimes your vote really does count, as Kontur-Gronquist was recalled by the slimmest of margins, 142-139. And she got her constituents involved, as nearly every single registered voter in the town cast a ballot. How many mayors can boast that sort of turnout or interest?
Some people just have no sense of humor. Come on, just how many mayors would anyone want to see in their underwear on a fire truck?
There are mayors embroiled in even bigger scandals than this one. Like the mayor of Detroit, Mich. And remember Marion Barry?
Well, I guess there are two lessons to learn from now-ousted Mayor Carmen Kontur-Gronquist's scandal.
One lesson related to the Detroit mayoral scandal too and that is that political (sexual or skin) scandal has now ventured into cyberspace and the wireless world.
The other thing of note in this age of voter apathy is that sometimes your vote really does count, as Kontur-Gronquist was recalled by the slimmest of margins, 142-139. And she got her constituents involved, as nearly every single registered voter in the town cast a ballot. How many mayors can boast that sort of turnout or interest?
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Snow? Say it ain't so
There's snow outside my window. Not a lot, but some. Snow in the Willamette Valley is not good. People here don't know how to handle slick roads. There has been snow in surrounding areas for the last couple of mornings, prompting a flurry (if you'll pardon the pun) of snow closures and traffic problems.
I knew there are those who love snow. It's so white and pretty. I've never been a big fan. Not that I have anything against the flakes themselves, but if there is snow sticking around that means it's at or below freezing, and I loath the cold.
To me, the best snow is that that dusts nearby mountains, making for a picturesque backdrop. That's what I loved about living in the Southern California deserts, near mountain ranges. It was usually warm (or at least mind) during the winter months, but snow was common at higher elevations on nearby mountains. It was beautiful, especially under warm, sunny skies.
The roads may be a mess in the morning. Fortunately, I don't have far to go. And I am fairly confident that the snow, if it sticks around overnight, will likely be done by midday. Perhaps only to be repeated again tomorrow.
I'm not a big fan of gray skies and rain in the winter here in Western Oregon, but the one benefit of just dreary conditions is that it is usually above freezing -- day and even at night -- here in the Willamette Valley.
How long is it until spring again?
I knew there are those who love snow. It's so white and pretty. I've never been a big fan. Not that I have anything against the flakes themselves, but if there is snow sticking around that means it's at or below freezing, and I loath the cold.
To me, the best snow is that that dusts nearby mountains, making for a picturesque backdrop. That's what I loved about living in the Southern California deserts, near mountain ranges. It was usually warm (or at least mind) during the winter months, but snow was common at higher elevations on nearby mountains. It was beautiful, especially under warm, sunny skies.
The roads may be a mess in the morning. Fortunately, I don't have far to go. And I am fairly confident that the snow, if it sticks around overnight, will likely be done by midday. Perhaps only to be repeated again tomorrow.
I'm not a big fan of gray skies and rain in the winter here in Western Oregon, but the one benefit of just dreary conditions is that it is usually above freezing -- day and even at night -- here in the Willamette Valley.
How long is it until spring again?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Your tax pennies at work
The check was in the mail. I got it this week. From the Oregon Department of Administrative Services. It was for a grand total of 80 cent.
I'm not sure if it's worth the gas to drive to the band to deposit it. The irony is the check is to cover mileage for my jury duty.
While I appreciate the gesture, I'm not sure as a taxpayer that I think the cost of issuing and 80 cent check and paying 31 cents postage was worth the effort. Who know what it cost for staff time, the cost of the check and envelope added onto the tally.
Shouldn't there be some sort of lower limit for the amount to which the state will issue a check to someone?
It's probably a good thing I don't work for the state, I might complain about such foolishness -- just like I'm doing now.
Then again, maybe a state job wouldn't be so bad after all. Our government doesn't seem to shy about pissing money away.
I'm not sure if it's worth the gas to drive to the band to deposit it. The irony is the check is to cover mileage for my jury duty.
While I appreciate the gesture, I'm not sure as a taxpayer that I think the cost of issuing and 80 cent check and paying 31 cents postage was worth the effort. Who know what it cost for staff time, the cost of the check and envelope added onto the tally.
Shouldn't there be some sort of lower limit for the amount to which the state will issue a check to someone?
It's probably a good thing I don't work for the state, I might complain about such foolishness -- just like I'm doing now.
Then again, maybe a state job wouldn't be so bad after all. Our government doesn't seem to shy about pissing money away.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Arlington mayor's 15 minutes of national fame
The scandal involving the Arlingon, Ore., mayor's myspace photo controversy will spill over onto national TV today. An interview with the mayor, Carmen Kontur-Gronquist, is scheduled to air tonight (Friday, Jan. 18) an ABC's 20/20.
The mayor has refused calls for her resignation. I'm not sure what folks are so upset about. The mayor has put that tiny burg (population 524 in the 2000 Census), on the map. Her predicament has been a hot topic on blogs, like this post on a blog called "A Slip of a Girl," listed as a lingerie blog, or this one on Blogger News Network, or this one on Death by 1000 Papercuts.
A Google blog search for the term "Arlington mayor photos" brings back 1,411 results. That's nearly three times as many posts about the Arlington mayor than live in Arlington.
Arlington shouldn't be trying to recall their mayor. They should be turning her photos into a calendar (with her consent and permission of course) and turning this into an economic development/revenue generating opportunity. If they city doesn't, someone else will find a way to make money off the deal.
Can Playboy's Girls of City Hall edition be far behind? Maybe they are already trying to capitalize on the sex and politics theme, as one of the items the men's magazine is teasing on its Web site right now proclaims: "Sex in America. Our survey shows that politics doesn't matter between the sheets."
The mayor has refused calls for her resignation. I'm not sure what folks are so upset about. The mayor has put that tiny burg (population 524 in the 2000 Census), on the map. Her predicament has been a hot topic on blogs, like this post on a blog called "A Slip of a Girl," listed as a lingerie blog, or this one on Blogger News Network, or this one on Death by 1000 Papercuts.
A Google blog search for the term "Arlington mayor photos" brings back 1,411 results. That's nearly three times as many posts about the Arlington mayor than live in Arlington.
Arlington shouldn't be trying to recall their mayor. They should be turning her photos into a calendar (with her consent and permission of course) and turning this into an economic development/revenue generating opportunity. If they city doesn't, someone else will find a way to make money off the deal.
Can Playboy's Girls of City Hall edition be far behind? Maybe they are already trying to capitalize on the sex and politics theme, as one of the items the men's magazine is teasing on its Web site right now proclaims: "Sex in America. Our survey shows that politics doesn't matter between the sheets."
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