WALK THAT LONESOME VALLEY, OR BABY SHARK, PICK ONE

You know you’ve got to walk that lonesome valley. That’s just how it is.

The part about walking it by yourself? I’m not so sure about that.

I tried walking it by myself and got pretty far, even though I wasn’t alone.

Technically.

I left my home and my family and I wasn’t the only one.

 

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of a railway station
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

 

Cheap apartments, bad neighborhoods, and feeling like the king of the world living without fear.

I walked that lonesome valley from North Bend to Portland, Oregon with a few stops in between including hitchhiking to Iowa and back, living in the dirty guts of downtown Philadelphia by city hall, the downward spiral of Brooklyn streets, and the gritty blocks of NW Portland as it sat in 1980 before all the pretty.

The important thing to know is you’re not walking that lonesome valley by yourself.

It just feels that way, and it’s a good thing, because chances are pretty good you won’t be alone for long.

This is where my lonesome valley walk ended.

 

Oregon Home Grown

After walking hand in hand with destiny from west coast to east coast, then east coast to west coast, back to the east coast, then Portland and stuck.

I would have felt stuck every other place, but this is where I wanted to stick, to make some relevance, to plant roots.

Early I met people with the same idea, but no notion for how it’s done. Bad gardeners, or bad crop?

The seeds didn’t grow in Delaware, Ohio, or Portland. At first.

My former farmer gals had other plans for the long haul than a summer fling, a fall swing, wintering in, or spring sprouts.

Forty-five years ago on a warm dry day I stood out front talking to a guy in the middle of moving into the neighborhood.

He was from out of town and needed the inside line on dating Oregon girls. Or, not. But he was getting it either way.

 

Me: Greatest girls in America, probably the world. What sets them apart is they know they’re great and don’t feel the need to prove it. Once you get past the ice you see the diamond. See this woman walking toward us? The blue dress? She looks like a chilly number, but looks are deceiving. In the right environment she would warm up.

New Guy: Thanks. Good to know.

 

The closer the young woman got the prettier she was. A true Oregon beauty.

Instead of walking past us two guys, she stopped and kissed the other guy.

He introduced her as his girlfriend.

We shook hands like people do, but she gave me look I’d seen before.

It was a look that said, “I’m a #1. What are you?”

What I was was an Oregon guy who, like Oregon girls, didn’t need to prove they’re #1.

 

 

I was blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night after we met.

A few short years later she married the Fender with a couple of Squier features and we haven’t looked back.

Until now.

 

What Baby Boomers Know

You’re gonna walk that lonesome valley.

You’re momma’s gonna walk it, so is your brother, your sister, your daddy.

Everyone gonna walk that lonesome valley, so why not have some fun?

Baby shark, daddy shark, momma shark, kind of fun.

We know how to walk, we know the route.

We’ve seen others on the trail.

 

PS: 

If you’re married and think you would have been a good husband or wife to anyone, and who doesn’t, take a moment and tell your partner how glad you are it’s them instead of anyone else.

 

PSS:

If they give you a weird look in return, don’t worry. It’s normal. They’re thinking, ‘who else?’