Favorite Views

 

by Pa Rock

Dressed for Success

It's probably a variation on one of the world's oldest jokes, but I had never heard it before and it made me laugh.

I've mentioned my summer wardrobe in the space before:  several pairs of black, draw-string gym shorts that I shift through as the mood hits me, twenty or so large baggy tee-shirts which I rotate through on a daily basis, and my ever-present sandals with ankle socks.  It's an old man's get-up that avoids wasting time on the frivolity of making wardrobe decisions.

Tuesday my "Portland" tee-shirt had made its way to the front of my tee-shirt rack.  It is bright green with equally bright yellow lettering that says "Portland," and has an outline map of the state, also in yellow, with a large star where that great city is located.  I purchased the shirt at a truck stop just north of Salem, Oregon (the state capital), a few years back, and I always look forward to its re-emergence every twenty days or so.

I like wearing the Portland shirt not only because it represents one on my favorite places to visit - a trip to Powell's Book Store alone is worth the price of the plane ticket to Oregon - but also because it is a city that never backs down to Trump and his Reich Cabinet.  Portland does not suffer fools.

I had to go into town to run a few errands Tuesday afternoon, and while I was there, in my Portland shirt, I stopped at a Casey's convenience store for an iced-tea to help combat our current heat wave.  After I had gotten my drink and was headed to the register, a woman behind me said in a sharp, clear voice:  "Do you know my favorite view of Portland?"

Here it comes, I thought, my first arrest for brawling.  "No," I said, smiling and turning to face her, "What is your favorite view of Portland?"

"The one of my tail lights as I was leaving town."

I had the good sense to laugh as I told her that I always enjoyed my trips there.  Then we were quickly talking like old friends, even though I had never seen the young woman before.  She told me that she had been sent to Portland for a six-week work assignment, and that during that time there had only been three days in which it hadn't rained.  

I had just returned fron a two-week drive out west in which I was on the ground in Oregon and Washington for a full week - and had not experienced any rain, although Seattle is famous for its almost daily rains - but I chose not to share that and interfere with the rhythm and vibe of her weather rant.

An encounter that I thought might prove rancorous, instead turned out to be a pleasant break in a hot afternoon.  My favorite view of West Plains that afternoon was of my new friend laughing about her time in Oregon.

Life is what happens when you slow down to relax and enjoy your surroundings.