LOOKING BACK AT THE BEGINNING

Looking back can be dangerous, in an embarrassing way.

The 80’s were a time of tight shorts in the NBA, and Crater Lake.

That’s me with my girlfriend’s dog on a summer fashion shoot, a single man loose in the wild.

I married that particular girlfriend. We were wedding bound after this trip.

Maybe you find it as interesting as I do, learning how relationships develop and evolve and turn into something life-changing?

As I remember it, this young Portland baby boomer came to town just in time.

After making an effort to fit into an established lifestyle, and failing every time, I spent a few years walking around Northwest Portland’s Alphabet District.

From Ankeny street to Burnside and Couch, from Raleigh to Savior to Thurman, I rode my bike up and down the hills, ran the steep stairways, and watched the neighborhood transition from dive to destination.

A downtown parking lot became Portland’s front room.

The clear view of Mt. Hood coming out of the east side of the Vista Ridge Tunnel was replaced by the KOIN tower.

 

One thing about the tunnels that younger people and newer transplants might not know: Used to be as you were driving east thru the tunnels and coming out of the portal, there was a great view of Mt. Hood with the city spread out below.

Then they built the KOIN Center which blocks the view. If it had been 10 stories shorter, the view would not have been blocked.

This episode caused the city to implement height limits within certain view corridors. I think the first one implemented was of Mt. Hood from the Rose Test Garden. The height limits for this are what limit taller buildings through the north central part of downtown.

 

Change Up On Northwest Lovejoy? It Had To Be Lovejoy

I noticed a big change with my last girlfriend.

It was a time change, like daylight savings, except it was more than an hour different.

My usual routine was going to work and coming back, doing fuck-all between the coming and going, like eating healthy, exercise, getting a good nights sleep.

Nothing unusual there.

I matched grains and beans for complete proteins along with fresh vegetables, could run one six minute mile if I had to, which translated to a 3.5 hour marathon.

At night I hopped in the sack as early as possible and got up early with old Kris singing about a Sunday morning coming down.

It all added up to a tidy 185 pounds of aimless drifting with no end in sight.

Until a plan shaped up.

Let’s do this, let’s go there, doesn’t it sound fun?

That turned into ‘let’s get married and have kids. Doesn’t that sound fun?’

Kids? Kids who not a failure of birth control, not a baited trap to rob me of my youth, not another reason to give up all that freedom?

With the right partner, kids are not a trap, and neither is the partner.

Together, they are the reason men get protective. Mess with someone’s wife and kids and expect the worst becomes a way of life.

I was ready. I’m still ready. I’ve always been ready, just without the right focus.

Not anymore.

 

Looking Back With Clear Vision

I can look back and see someone hopeful and caring: My wife.

Without her I’d be playing guitar by myself. (Hey T)

She likes to say that without her I’d still be happily living on Lovejoy, and she’s probably right.

My worries were few.

I had three different apartments on one block in one year, knew the neighbors, what’s not to like?

I was on schedule to becoming a neighborhood attraction like Jimbo, a nice hippie who seemed to have a medical condition that made him even nicer.

But this particular woman liked doing things together, liked being around, just not on my haphazard schedule, which was no schedule outside of work.

Take a walk to see the cheery blossom along the Willamette?

Go the world champion fireworks show synced up with KGON blasting through PA speakers on the seawall?

Drive a Datsun B10 to my dad’s property on the old Klamath reservation?

Looking back, a road trip together is a breaking point in most relationships.

After that, it’s either looking forward to the next adventure, or lashing yourself to a chair.

Our latest adventure was yesterday when we went on a cooking binge that produced tacos, a roasted chicken, and a pot of chili.

I’d already been out with the dog, along with my kid and his dog, for a two hour walk followed by another two hours at the Tualatin River Wildlife Refuge to stretch out and feel naturally good.

Mid-afternoon tacos and wine followed by a short Saturday nap on a cuddle couch?

Sign me up. That’s my song.