When you think about uptopian places that the world has dreamed about, or wished they would've lived in, you think about the garden of eden or the ideal world that came out of Sir Thomas Moores' brain. But you should also think about Hood River, Oregon.
(The best part is the end. It's the main story.)
Hood River is a place off of the Columbia River. It's hilly. It's lush. It's green. It's smack between Mount Adams and Mount Hood. Everything grows there: Women and men, apples and plums and cherries and grapes and trees, of course. Grass and animals. Mostly it's just a gorgeous place to live among orchards, even if they aren't making a ton of money these days.
And so we stopped there after camping in a little town called Arlington, OR with a beautiful town park. Oddly enough the people there were kind enough, or not paranoid enough, to let us camp in their town park. The grass was well kept. There was a beach on a little inlet from the Columbia river. We figured more people should be like that, but if that was the case people would start moving out of their homes and into town parks. In fact we were surprised that, in the towns where we were allowed to camp (and not woken up by police because some paranoid...person...had called the cops regarding a tent that was making too much noise at 6 a.m.?) sorry. We were surprised that more people hadn't moved out of their homes and into the parks. They were lovely places to live, after all.
Sorry, I know I've gotten off topic, but I can't help but wonder how a law that doesn't let someone camp in a town park gets passed. How many homeless people come through towns of 50 people? And how many of those homeless people do anyone any disservice or nuissance? It just seems like the correlation between ideas like that and the ideas that go into Sundown Towns (See Dr. James Loewen) is quite high.
And now back to the utopia that is Hood River. Well, it was quite peaceful. The family that put us up was marvelous--the kind of marriage and peaceful family that we all sort of aspire to as youngsters. You know, plenty of resources, plenty of laughter, a lighthearted approach to life, and the love of your life to reproduce with and raise a family. Not to mention in the middle of what is called by historians as the most plush, productive environments on earth. Life doesn't get much better than that, at least for people looking at you. And so we had a great time. We laughed a lot. We ate a lot. We planned a lot. And we learned from that small slice of experience with these people about what it takes to enjoy success in relationships and work.
The ride to Portland was gorgeous. Did you expect to hear anything different?
And a quick description about the amazing family in Portland before I'll tell you a somewhat humorous tale. Well, I think I've already blogged about them.
So on to the story:
Clay and Matt and Clay's friend and girlfriend are going to a place in Portland to meet Clay's friend's girl's brother. I know that sounds confusing, but this was kinda a big moment for Clay's friend. Naturally, I was there to support him. We arrive and think that this guy, who is actually trying to chat up the friend's girl, is her brother. We introduce ourselves. It's immediately clear that I don't know what's going on, and am not from Portland in any sense. So I mention that I just rode from New Jersey--usually a decent conversation starter when I'm looking extremely lost--and instead of hearing "Oh wow" I get, "I don't believe you."
The man flat out tells me he doesn't believe me.
"Oh. I don't really know how to respond to that one." I laugh. "Do a lot of people say that around here?"
"No. You just look like a Portland boy. Did you really ride from Jersey?"
"Ya. I mean but it's cool if you don't believe me. I was just trying to start a conversation because I didn't know what was going on. I'm not actually from Jersey..." At this point I was getting pulled into the place as the other two had discovered that her brother was not among the men who were trying to talk to her in romantic overtones. I might also point out that because of the reputation "Jersey" had gained from folk in Eastern PA I knew I didn't want to be associated with the state. (I hadn't actually spent much time in Jersey, except for the beach, which was sort of dirty but not void of fun, so I figured I'd better make that clear.) Luckily I got that much out before I was pulled in doors.
I met the brother. We hit it off. But his girlfriend, thinking I was the boyfriend (Clay's friend) told him to stop talking to me--"Take it easy on him [insert name]"
He left to convince her...seemed like a real nice guy. He might've even looked a little like the guy from Nickelback--without dyed hair.
Anyway, to the real story.
There's a guy at the bar. What appears to be his friend is on the other side of him playing with his crutches. They're his because he has a cast on his left leg. It's also noteworthy that the guy with the broken leg is, what young people these days call "Double Fisting." He's got two drinks--one in each hand. That's a lot of money, is my point here.
I ask him what happened to his leg (there were a few seconds where no one was paying attention to me. So instead of look awkward, if only for a minute, I figure I'll talk to the guy with the mustache, long hair and caste on his leg.)
"I broke it catching a purse thief."
"What?"
"A purse thief. Ya. Like a guy robbed some girl of her purse. I saved her."
"You saved her or her purse?" I asked, starting to wonder if maybe she was a little heavier than he expected.
"Well, her purse. I mean. I caught up with the guy who snatched her purse and really beat the [poop] out him. I mean he was pretty [messed up]." A genuine do-gooder, I'm talking to, I thought. I must admit, it had been at least a year since I'd heard a purse-thief story.
He goes on: "And then the cops showed up. And I'm holding the purse and this guy is all beat up so I tell the cops what's going on. What happened you know?"
"Ya. I know." No I don't know. This guy is getting increasingly close to me and I'm wondering where on earth the girl is and how on earth this relates to him breaking his leg.
"And so the cop just says 'run that way real quick'." At this point he's brought the Portland Police into question. Because, I'm not sure if you know much about standard American law, but that's not exactly exemplary police work.
"And so I'm running back to give this girl her purse, ya know?"
"Ya. I know. I mean that's standard behavoir. Return the purse." I hoped the book about non-verbal body language wasn't right about your face giving away what you're thinking. I had a few questions, to say the least: Why didn't the girl also run after the purse? If the cops could show up from who knows how far away, couldn't the girl walk a few hundred yards? And why on earth are you leaning so close to me. I can hear just fine.
He repeats himself: "And so I'm running back to give this girl her purse, ya know?" I quit answering what I now deem as rhetorical questions.
"And on the way there I break my leg."
Now Clay, who is much quicker of wit than I, is listening in: "What? How do you just break your leg running back to give back a purse, man?"
"I broke it on the sidewalk." We all bust up in laughter. I'm not sure why he was laughing.
"You mean you tripped, Bro?"
"No. I mean I fell off the sidewalk."
"And you broke your whole leg?"
"Ya man." he was sticking to his story pretty intently as the bartender called out that the bar was closing. The guy we were talking to was the last to pay his tab.
"Wait. Wait. Where'd that guy who was just here go?" He was referring to the guy who was playing with his crutches earlier.
"Where'd he go? He said he was gonna pay for these drinks. He invited me over to get some drinks. He ditched out on me? I can't believe that. A guy asks you over for some drinks and then ditches out on you? How's that work?! What an A..." I just looked at him. I guess if I had a friend that got copious amounts of alcohol on my tab I'd probably leave him too.
We decided now was a good time to leave. It was getting rather late, after all.
Outside a guy on crutches tried to steal the girlfriend's purse. He didn't get real far before getting carried away and falling off the curb...it's a rough life.
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