Mark My Words

It’s nice to have a claim to fame. For Springfield, Oregon, that would be Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, Maggie, and a motley crew of misfits. In a 2012 interview, The Simpsons creator Matt Groening admitted that Oregon’s 8th-largest city is “the real Springfield.”

Sure enough, they lean hard into the whole Simpsons vibe, with murals scattered all over town.

I haven’t watched The Simpsons in decades, but it’s a bona fide classic and I will always consider myself a fan. Walking around downtown on Thursday to check out the murals was pretty cool.

D’oh! We did other things in Springfield too. Ate pizza, strolled through an antique shop, stopped by a park. And spent the evening in my brother Scott and SIL Esther’s backyard, chatting away the hours as the westering sun lowered. The weather was ideal: 60s, sunny with puffy white clouds.

Scott grilled bratwursts and made macaroni/potato salad for dinner. Their house only has one guest room; I wanted my mom to have that, so I stayed at a crappy motel a few miles away. My dad did not join us for this trip; his back was hurting, and he wanted to avoid the long (2.5-hour) car ride.

We drove back to Vancouver on Friday. I continued to ooh and ahh over familiar sights, even insisting we take the busier I-5 route so I could see downtown Portland. That was the closest I got to the Rose City.

After stopping by my parents’ house to drop off our stuff, I was on the go once more. I stopped by my old townhouse and then hit up McMenamin’s and New Seasons to stock up on some must-haves. I had a decent-sized list (and fortunately, enough luggage space to bring it all home).

Friday was Audrey’s birthday, so I treated her and her wife to cocktails and fried pickles at Shanahan’s in Vancouver, my all-time favorite hangout. I got there early, because the place was usually hoppin’ on Friday nights, but I didn’t have to worry about crowds this time. I slid into “our spot”—the corner table in the back room where Tara and I spent many a fun evening—and holy cow, the nostalgia factor was through the roof. My ass hadn’t made an indent in that booth in eight years, but it was like no time at all had passed.

Audrey and Anna showed up 30 minutes later, and we spent a great couple of hours talking and gossiping. And those fried pickles? I’m happy to report they were every bit as delicious as I remembered. Recipes evolve over the years, cooks come and go, so you never really know for sure whether a beloved favorite will live up to expectations. These did. The secret is fresh dill in the batter. So good!

Hiking, spaghetti, and family time

Saturday morning, I wanted to get in one final PNW hike, so I did 3.5 miles along Lacamas Creek to Round Lake and back. I hiked this trail many times while living there; it was actually close enough to my workplace that I could (and did) hit it on my lunch hour. My timing was perfect, as the Camas lilies were in full bloom. They were about a month early, according to my dad, and they only last a few weeks, so I was very fortunate to see them.

In truth, I shouldn’t have pushed myself that morning. The side of my left foot and heel were killing me; they were red and swollen, tender to the touch, and I literally had to limp my way along the whole hike, every step painful. What can I say? I’m stubborn, and obviously, I don’t get an opportunity to do this hike very often. I thought at first I’d pulled a tendon or something, though it came on very suddenly Friday evening, days after I’d hiked in the Gorge. Judging by the red mark and the fact that it’s perfectly fine now, I’m pretty sure I got bit or stung by an insect. I even vaguely recall feeling something pinch my ankle that evening.

Saturday was the “official” celebration of Audrey’s birthday. She and Anna came over, as well as my aunt Nancy and my son, Rusty. He’s graduating from Arizona State University in a couple of weeks and heading to Phoenix for a new job (Investment Analyst; who knew this sucks-with-numbers dad would have a kid working in finance?), so I’d put together an Arizona Welcome Kit that included a fan/mister, Phoenix Suns water bottle, Arizona flag cap, oven mitts for driving (Arizonans really use them to combat hot steering wheels!), a guidebook to desert cacti, and sunscreen. He was appreciative and all those items should come in handy.

My mom made spaghetti for dinner, followed by an amazing key lime pie that Anna baked. Afterward, we took photos in the front yard.

And then it was time to say goodbye to my kids. Sniff…

But I had a very early flight Sunday morning, so we couldn’t make it a late night. My alarm went off at 3:45 a.m. (honestly, I was already awake; the anticipation on a travel day makes it hard to sleep) and my dad drove me to PDX.

First Class has spoiled me

I wanted to get to the airport two hours before my 6 a.m. flight, but my dad insisted one hour would be plenty of time. Well, it almost wasn’t, because TSA flagged my backpack. The culprit? A water bottle I’d shoved in there after my Delta flight to PDX and forgotten about. Whoopsie. They were also suspicious over my bottle of Jacobsen black pepper salt. What did they think I was going to do, over-season the airplane? Luckily, I made it to my gate with time to spare anyway.

The flight from Portland to Seattle was the only leg of my trip where I was in coach. Boy, is there a difference! Three people packed into a row instead of two, and the flight attendants don’t give you bergamot-scented hand towels or refer to you by name. Weird. Not a huge deal though, given this was a 29-minute flight. We barely reached our 20,000′ cruising altitude before descending. First class on such a short hop would be a waste of money.

I had a little over an hour at Sea-Tac before my connecting flight to Milwaukee, so I grabbed an iced espresso from Starbucks and chatted with Tara for a few minutes. Before long it was time to board again, so I settled into my super-comfy leather seat with ample legroom. Alaska Airlines served first-class passengers a hot breakfast, and it was surprisingly good: parmesan and chive scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, hickory-smoked bacon, Ellenos lemon greek yogurt and granola, and a bowl of melons I ignored because: eww.

Guys, I’m not a flying snob, but I don’t know if I can ever go back to coach again! Having said that, I will totally go back to coach again, because I can’t afford the first-class splurge. This was all my dad’s doing, and I greatly appreciate that. I guess it was an early birthday present.

The flight to Milwaukee was smooth, except for the descent through the clouds. I may be a nervous flier, but before this trip, I said to myself, Self, if we can fly four humans around the moon and back in a tiny tin capsule, surely we can get a plane from Point A to Point B safely. And this worked; I was perfectly fine on all four flights.

Artemis II is the gift that keeps on giving.

We actually landed in MKE half an hour early. Which would’ve been great if Tara hadn’t been delayed an hour due to a closed freeway. Last week’s storms brought over 5″ of rain, and there is extensive flooding throughout southern Wisconsin. This is the Rock River in Fort Atkinson; the water along the river walk is probably waist-high.

I was so happy to see my wife again! And my house. And the cats. My trip to the PNW was fantastic, but it’s always nice to be home again. I’m even looking forward to driving to CheeseGov tomorrow, so clearly, I’m a guy who likes routine.

Final thoughts

They say you can’t go home again, and in many ways, this is true. Eight years is a long time to be away, and much has changed in Vancouver, WA. It has become a lot more crowded, and I daresay, trendier. Vancouver today reminds me of Portland 25 years ago, on a smaller scale—but the vibe is there.

For every new business and restaurant and condominium (and there are a lot), every old building that has been torn down and modernized, every vacant parcel of land that has been gobbled up and built upon, I did manage to find a lot of favorites still thriving, older establishments tucked amongst the new, and this made me happy. Not just Shanny’s, but Burgerville, Joy Teriyaki, Golden China, McMenamin’s, Cafe Yumm, Tonalli’s Donuts, Stardust Diner, New Seasons Market, Big Al’s, and others. With such limited time I wasn’t able to hit up all of them, but I gave it a valiant effort.

The beauty of the Pacific Northwest is undeniable. I don’t think there’s another place in the U.S. with such amazing scenery. Snow-capped volcanic peaks, verdant forests, pristine lakes and rivers. I’m thankful for the many years I lived there…but I have no regrets over leaving. The Midwest in general, and Wisconsin in particular, are much more my speed.

And really, I don’t have a home. Not in the traditional sense anyway. I’ve been a nomad my entire life; growing up a military brat, you lead a very transient existence. Vancouver was home for 22 years, far longer than anyplace else I’ve lived, but now Wisconsin is home. For life, I swear; there’s no other place I’d rather be. I don’t have it in me to move anywhere else. At some point, you have to draw the line and say, this is it.

This is it.

Regardless, there will be future visits to Washington and Oregon, and I won’t let another eight years pass this time.