Oregon

from Ben's mom

Last weekend as I was driving to Oregon, I realized anew how much it is home. That may sound strange but when you've lived in more than 30 different dwellings (I quit counting at 30, but I'm guessing we're at 34 by now) and in many different locations (6 states and 2 foreign countries), you find yourself stammering when someone asks you where you are from. I generally come back with "from the Northwest" but I wasn't even so certain about that when we recently returned from Virginia.

But last Friday as I transported packages across the state line because I knew where a quick post office was in Portland and stopped at my favorite coffee shop (west of the Mississippi)I felt like I was in my hometown. And logically, it should be. I lived in Portland for 8 years, the longest I've lived in any one town.

Lately, I notice the sunshine when I head south. There is a lot more of it just two hours south of us. The driving habits of Oregonians are far superior to those of Washingtonians. I was driving on the freeway earlier this weekend and had to laugh as a highway patrolman pointed his radar gun at the oncoming cars all traveling 63 mph in a 70mph zone. I knew this because for more than 3 miles I'd been trapped behind two cars that were merrily traveling side-by-side at this speed and thus preventing myself and others from maintaining the speed limit. But that's par for the course in Washington. My husband and I have also discovered that Washingtonians either are ignorant that the left lane is the fast lane or they think they are speed demons if they manage to maintain the posted speed and feel they should responsibly stay in that lane. We've given up and taken to passing on the right. In Oregon, I had to smile at the posted "Slow vehicles must use right lane. It is the law." And usually, the slow vehicles have dealt with their identity and comply.

In my brief stop in Portland last weekend I managed to go shopping. Things are significantly cheaper here, and it is not just because there is no sales tax. I am a bargain hunter and I am still trying to locate the stores with great sales in my current state of residence. But I know where all the great stores are in Portland.

I also know the best restaurants, best place for a good view of the city, and where you can catch a movie for $3. I know it is illegal not to carry ID and that there is no salting the roads in the winter because it runs down to the Willamette and kills the salmon. I know the sidestreets to take in bad traffic. I know the hotel where my grandparents spent their honeymoon. I have memories of my grandpa taking me to the Old Spaghetti Factory in a warehouse downtown, no longer there. I remember my dad letting us walk through the carnival on the riverfront.

In retrospect, the very difficult decision of where to have our wedding was made well. Portland is home, and my love for it, despite its irrational politics, it is packed full of memories. Making it the place where our marriage began was a smart way to guarantee that my husband would love it too. He does.