I didn’t sleep well because of how cold it was. I could not stay warm, even with my blanket, and kept waking up. At five a.m., I got up to use the restroom, and figured I’d stay up to type out yesterday’s blog. I ran the heater in the car for a little while, and that helped.
Honestly, typing out all this detail takes awhile to do each day—at least an hour, usually two. But I think about my last trip, and I am so glad I did the same, especially since losing all my pictures to hard drive self-destruction. I find that my memory doesn’t retain all the details of my vacations because I am on sensory overload while relaxing (or at least trying to relax). I love being able to go back later and relive the journey again, remembering the nuances of the trip I had forgotten.
The trip came at just the right time. The Wednesday before I left, my work laptop was upgraded to Vista, something I was VERY opposed to. That Thursday and Friday were excruciatingly painful, trying to learn a new operating system and Office 2007. I had even been through all the trainings offered by my company. Just as I was about to hurl my laptop through a window in frustration, I was free for vacation. I am getting a chance to get used to this devastating change on a gentler learning curve, only using it for my trip to type and upload pictures.
I typed yesterday’s blog, and got a couple more hours of fitful sleep. I slept a little better, not because I would say it was “warmer” as much as “less cold.”
It is so beautiful out here. After getting dressed, I got out to take some pictures of the rest area where I had parked last night. There was a lush river running underneath the bridge of the freeway, and another traveler mentioned that she had never seen the river this high. She attributed it to the heavy snow they has gotten (over 500 feet on the highest mountains, she said—WOW!), and remarked that she hoped it stayed for the duration of the summer. I didn’t get her name because she walked off right away and seemed in a hurry.
I had told Earle I would call him when I reached Salem, but I passed through it at 8 a.m., and didn’t know if I should call that early. There was a bookstore that my friend Stacia had recommended I stop at in Portland (apparently three stories with themed rooms), so I figured I’d be safe to wait. Looking in my AAA Tour Book, I also found a number of interesting things to visit in Portland. The free thing that really caught my eye was the Grotto, the National Sanctuary of Our Sorrowful Mother.
I called Earle and he recommended the Rose Gardens over the Grotto, and I decided to consider changing my plans. The AAA TourBook had said it was “a place of reflection for all faiths” and I was really intrigued to see what that meant. So I did end up choosing the Grotto, hoping to catch the Rose Gardens on the way back. I called and got directions since it was off the Tourbook’s street map.
The Grotto was fascinating in its own right, and a beautiful sanctuary of sorts, but a sanctuary to Mary. I met Sister Dorothy at the welcome center, and she was very nice. However, I did not feel as though I would want to worship there, and I am sure religions that aren’t in some way related to Catholicism wouldn’t feel welcomed. There were actually two levels: a ground level, and an upper level 10 stories up a cliff accessible by elevator. I was running short on time and there was a charge for the elevator anyway.
From there I tried to return to the 205 to the 5, and had the hardest time because they only marked the 205 from one direction, and it wasn’t the direction I was heading. I found it after two U-turns, and I credit my ability to do those to my dad, who taught me that U-turns are a regular part of driving and just make the whole experience more fun. I made it back to the 5 and then to the 405 (so now I know why it’s an INTERstate—I had wondered what other state it was in besides CA) to get to Powell’s. Downtown Oregon is crazy to navigate. It’s so beautiful, so I wasn’t stressing once I found the bookstore. I just kept driving around until I found a place to park, only almost (but never actually) turning the wrong way on a one way street.
Once I found a place to park, I had the hardest time figuring out the machine to pay because they aren’t just simple meters where you insert coins. I had a passerby help me out because the instructions were so unclear as to when my card needed to be in or out, etc. He left when we both thought I was set, but my receipt never printed. I think it was out of labels. So I went across the street and got another one. I’m trying to decide if it will be worth the effort to challenge the first $1.90 charge on my credit card. I stuck the receipt to the inside of my car and walked the two blocks to the bookstore.
I loved it from the first minute I saw it. The bike racks outside where of varying heights and had well-known titles atop each one, as though they were books on a bookshelf. Going inside, I had a little bit of a letdown. The entrance is really lacking in presentation. I felt like I was in a library, not a charactered three-story bookstore. Another new word: making character an adjective. Are these really new words or just new definitions/uses? The suffices make words that MS Word does not recognize. Hmmm.
But the different rooms and the layout soon made up for anything the main entrance was lacking. There are different colored rooms for different themes of books, and the themes are broad (“sports, exercise & puzzles” vs. “baseball”), to let each room usually have something for each visitor. I had only an hour on the meter, so I really couldn’t let myself get too lost or absorbed in anything, but it was denying withdrawals from a drug addiction: an addiction to reading. As Earle told me on phone, I could spend a week there. I picked up a book here and there, trying to read only the cover and not open the pages. I slipped a few times and started getting engrossed in the richness of the text, but I usually recovered myself by reaching for another title. There were so many books I wanted to buy but knew I shouldn’t. I have to read the ones I already have on my bookshelf first.
I heard my cell phone alarm go off, giving me the ten- minute (really fifteen, but I told myself ten just to play it safe) notice. I dashed quickly through the last remaining rooms and headed out the front door. I needed to get put not just because the meter would expire, but because Earle and Harriet were waiting for me.
Google Maps had said it would be ten minutes from Powell’s to Earle & Harriet’s. If not for the bridge to get across the Washington/Oregon border, it would have taken that long. Because of that wait time, it took 20, but I made it. Their house is so beautiful; most of the houses in the neighborhood were. I would find out later that the lots are pie-shaped. Maybe trapezoidal is a more accurate term. Each property touches two parallel streets, and the diagonal lines that form the edges of the property give every owner either a smaller front yard or a small back yard. They have the long property edge for their front yard, but the house is pretty far forward on the property, so they have a fairly long backyard.
I knew from the address listing that Earle was his middle name. He told me shortly after I arrived that he now goes by his given name Sherman. Apparently it was a family tradition of unknown reason that all the boys in his family were called by their middle names because his brother and father were similarly addressed by their middle names. Since I had no recollection of them, it was easy for me to switch over to Sherman, but he was kind enough to only tell me informatively, leaving it open for me to continue calling him Earle if I so chose.
Sherman and Harriet introduced my parents to each other, and sang together at Mom and Dad’s wedding. This experience felt like the movie “Back to the Future,” where Michael J. Fox’ character gets a chance to go back and find out if things really happened the way his parents said. Of course what my parents said was true, but I got some new anecdotes and pieces of the story I hadn’t had before.
Sherman and Harriet moved up to Vancouver in 1986 a) to get out of Orange County, and b) to be nearer their three children, who are scattered through the Northwest. So they remember me from my toddler years. Harriet had pulled out some old pictures she had of Mom & Dad’s wedding, as well as other pictures of us, including our last several Christmas letters.
Sherman and Harriet are in their early 80’s, but live with the vitality of a couple in their thirties and the wisdom of their true years. I wasn’t necessarily surprised, but more impressed at the mental acuity they displayed with even the minutest details. Sherman did most of the talking, and self-admittedly went off on several conversational tangents. He says he has a doctorate in digressing, and Harriet’s must be in getting him back on track. One thing I was especially impressed with is their financial savvy and self-discipline.
Sherman & Harriet still maintain their large two-story house that has at least four bedrooms and bathrooms. It amazed me to hear all that they do. Sherman still mows his lawn and even maneuvers the mower down the steps to the garden area. But he was having trouble getting it back up the steps, so he laid some plywood runner boards and put a mesh material over them to give traction when the boards get slippery in the rain. Sherman & Harriet have a pool table in the basement and play about three games each day. They have a clothesline strung across the room from the ceiling with abacus beads to keep score.
Harriet made some delicious turkey sandwiches for us for lunch, and that’s when I really started learning about how well they take care of themselves physically. They exercise by walking past the treadmill in there basement every day, whether they feel like they need to or not. ;-) They actually do take very good care of themselves, working around the house, Harriet doing water aerobics, taking vitamins, etc.
Sherman is also big into model trains, and has a huge set up that takes up the whole basement main room (it just goes around the pool table on that side of the room. This is where I really saw the similarities between Dad and Sherman. He had modified so much of the electronics on the train (even creating a few simple customized tools along the way), and set it up so masterfully, I would swear Dad had constructed it. He had changed so gas lanterns to electrical wiring and set them overhead. The train station was actually set up with three model-sized communities, with each building hand-constructed and representing something in either their past or their surrounding community. It was amazing!
And then I saw the similarities between Harriet and Mom. Harriet is addicted to Freecell and is playing the games sequentially. I think she’s at 17-something thousand. My picture of her tally card didn’t come out to show me the exact number. Both of them are very active on the computer, but a little more so for Sherman: doing consumer reports research, investing, e-mail, buying from Amazon, etc.
They both gave me a tour of the interior of the house, and then Sherman and I walked around the outside a little so he could how me their garden and front yard. They’ve significantly down-sized their garden this year, only having four tomato plants, a zucchini plant, and a few other things. But they do have several fruit trees, including an accidental cherry tree. Apparently, one of the cherries fell off the tree they planted, and sprouted into a new tree about feet away! So now they have two of those.
They had an engagement to play Pinochle that evening, and I had to get up to Tacoma to meet Leroy & Karen, so I left around 4 p.m. We so enjoyed each other, though, that we’re hoping it would work for me to stop by again on my way back down to spend a little more time with them.
I stopped to get gas and then headed up the freeway to Tacoma. I needed to get there before 7 to get the house key from Karen because they had a seminary graduation to attend that evening. Traffic was at a standstill getting on the 5 in Vancouver, but it soon cleared up. I powered on up there, and it looked like I would make it, cutting it pretty close. But then when I needed to merge onto the 16W, all hope was lost. Three lanes needed to merge into one for the on-ramp, and that lane disappeared getting onto the freeway, requiring it to merge with the next-right lane of traffic.
So I had told Karen I was fine just hanging out in my car until they returned. I had plenty to do, typing out today’s journey and updating finances, etc. During the reception Karen texted me and invited me to come over for that, even subsequently responding to my question that jeans and tennis shoes would be suitable attire. So I drove over and was able to see the seminary they now work at. The seminary is in a large three-story (plus basement) mansion, originally owned by the Weyerhaeuser family. Its construction actually works quite well for the purposes and uses of the school. I also got to meet some of the other seminary employees as I helped Karen put away food after the reception. There are actually three Karens at the seminary, one working on each floor (Leroy’s office is on the second floor, and Karen’s is on the third). There’s an elevator, but it’s the old kind where the user has to pull ropes hand over hand, so it’s only used for transporting books and other heavy materials.
I followed Leroy & Karen home and got a tour of their new home. They ended up buying a fixer-upper, and that term describes the house well. It’s a beautiful home, but I was almost keeled over in laughter hearing them tell me some of the stories of what the prior two owners had tried and failed to do to the house. They were laughing, too, so I wasn’t laughing at their inherited workload, but just the nonsense of it all. I have to give them a lot of credit for undertaking a project like this. They’ve made amazing progress on the home in the two months they’ve been here, and are really thinking through the proper steps to take in repairing this place.
It was 11 p.m. when we finished the tour, and we stood talking upstairs for another hour before we were all so exhausted that we went to bed.
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