HOW TO GROW A SENSE OF WONDER IN PORTLAND OREGON

Most of the time a sense of wonder in Portland means a painful memory from the days of old, of Meier and Frank downtown and the Georgian Room for tea.

The place had a special aura during the holidays.

The painful part? It hasn’t been there for years, Meier and Frank and the Georgian Room, and you’re just old.

Tell me where it hurts.

During the 1980’s part of my job was delivering the Meier and Frank wagon to Santa’s Wonderland on the 10th floor of the downtown building, the big room with the monorail hanging from the ceiling.

The day would start on NW 14th and Everett.

I lashed the trailer wheels to a car hauler, pushed it off the second floor and onto the huge elevator, and hooked it up to the Van Of History on the ground floor.

From there I set off for SW Alder between 5th and 6th street.

Down through the urban canyons to another big freight elevator and up in the air we went.

 

 

It’s been a part of my sweet Portland sense of wonder, a memory that’s never grown old.

Neither has the memory of cramming myself into the overhead monorail built for children-sized adults, not a 6’3″ strip of rawhide.

This past Sunday brought it all back, the pace of the town, the excitement on the street, the joy of the season.

 

Christmas Lights During The Day

No matter what day it is, things still happen.

I see my job, my role if you will, my duty as a husband on a downtown date, as mitigating any possible problems that may or may not stray into my lane.

Things may happen, but keep anything less than a sense of wonder on the other side of the street.

I have my own ways of navigating questions from strangers, like,”buy me a cup or coffee?”

In my youthful days of yore I dragged through downtown Philadelphia and NYC like a local, which is to say I wasn’t a tourist.

I lived in Center City Philadelphia, then Brooklyn, NY, riding the subways and busses and trolleys to where I was headed.

Getting hassled was part of the day. For some people, hassling and hustling was their job all day.

And I respect a good hustle, just not when it’s me and my wife.

 

Me: If anything comes up, stand behind me and back away in case I need to break out the Kung Fu.

Wife: The only thing you’ll break is your hip.

Me: If there’s any talking, I’ll do it because it won’t be a delicate conversation.

Wife: Which one of us will squeal like a little girl when confronted? It won’t be me.

Me: I’m packing heat.

Wife: More like a hand warmer.

Me: Carrying my blade.

Wife: You mean your nail file?

Me: Whatever, just keep an eye peeled and don’t look up all of the time.

Wife: Okay, guard dog.

Me: And I’m off the chain. Woof.

 

The Other Portland

If you plan it right with the right friends, get to downtown Portland later in the day to watch the light change.

This is a shot from the 15th floor around five o’clock on the shortest day of the year.

We walked into the Nines reception area looking like drowned rats.

Okay, one of us looked like a drowned rat and the two men at the desk had to have had a lot of people walk in the same way.

They gave us the once over and it didn’t look favorable, so I set them at ease.

 

Me: We have reservations for Departure at 4.

Clerk: The restaurant doesn’t open until four and the elevator is keyed off. You have a half hour.

 

He didn’t shoo us away, but it felt like it.

 

Me: We’ve lived here forty years. What do you tell new people when they have half an hour to burn?

Clerk: The Urban Farmer is on the 8th floor with a bar.

Me: Say no more.

 

We were soaking wet, got dried out on the 8th floor, and by the time the gin and tonics arrived it was time for dinner on the 15th floor.

 

 

The street level picture with the police cars?

This is what the building looks like from overhead with a glass pyramid like the Louvre.

Portland has many angles and views for day and night, but night time in December hits differently.

 

 

Broadway looks like a real Main Street.

 

 

Is there too much traffic? Too many parked cars?

 

 

There might be too much of everything if you look hard enough, but it’s December.

I’m not looking for problems to solve, I’m looking for a sense of wonder.

To that end I put on my Luca Brasi raincoat and face for Portland, and left it there when I went home.

With Luca as my spirit guide, Portland feels as safe as anyplace.

That’s the way I roll in town.

 

PS: Make the holidays festive for everyone. It’s not always about you.

 

PSS: How many times have you heard that? All I know is that it’s all about me when I’m in the parking garage, on the sidewalk, and crossing Pioneer Square with my wife and someone starts their hustle.

It’s all about me when I pass a guitar player sitting in the rain.

At the end of the day we get home safe and sound, then it can be all about anyone else.

Sometimes I think my wife wonders why she does anything with me and my sense of wonder.