EUGENE, Ore. – I love orange chicken and Bermuda shorts. I love 12-string guitars.
Some things just trigger the heart, right?
So it is with this ramshackle coffee shop on the edge of campus. It’s like when Tolkien has a fever … the colors, the warp. The homemade scones are big as burgers, and the barista looks like she hasn’t slept in months.
“Everyone up here is rebelling,” explains Smartacus, who is about to begin his final year in Eugene, the land that fashion forgot.
My son is talking about the scruffy pedestrian in Portland who opened his takeout burger and flung the unwanted tomato into the street. But he also could’ve been talking about the young woman in Eugene with a raccoon tail poking out of her hemp satchel.
Thing is, if everyone is rebelling, is that really rebellion? Or is that, suddenly, conformity? For sure, this is a freaky-deaky place. I like it more and more, even as it defies my attempts at explanation.
Hey, who am I to weigh in on anything?
On our way up, the flight attendant explains that if the flotation device doesn’t inflate, you can manually blow into the tube.
And I think: “I can’t even blow up a balloon. What makes you think I can blow up my own life vest while sharks nibble at my knee?”
I’ve played out this scenario many times. They say not to inflate the life vest until you exit the plane, and I just know – sure as winter wheat – that several of these dweebs will inflate their vests the moment they put them on, clogging the aisles. Suddenly, I’m kicking at windows, desperate to save Smartacus.
Generally, a trip to Eugene does not inspire faith in America. It inspires bemusement, sure. Or, like my Bermuda shorts, it inspires envy.
Yep, this is one of those travelogues I’m rather fond of. Ride with me across the Pacific Northwest for a minute, as we check out the sights, the vibe, the peanut butter-and-jelly burgers.
As we’ve established, it’s always 1969 here. Hair is at all angles, never brushed. Showers and shavers are discouraged, possibly illegal. You can’t tell the dogs from the cats.
But, brother, are these folks folksy. Like the woman at the Safeway deli making 20 Italian subs, who chats me up about how fresh their bread is. “Have you tried the sushi?” she asks. “I took it home to my daughter. She loved it.”
Or the beertenders at Max’s bar, serving up icy $4 drafts on a quiet summer evening. They are all a little ticked off about something or other – a boss, a boyfriend – which is what I look for in a good beertender: honesty, candor, psychosis.
Kind of like the sleepy barista I was telling you about.
Look, nobody ever had a soulful moment at a Starbucks, or a berry scone that blew your mind. At Starbucks, or any chain, all you get is exactly what you ordered yesterday and the day before. You don’t get Tolkien, that’s for sure.
And there was this frazzled clerk at the U-Haul rental counter, darting this way and that, pumping gas on “a very bizarre day.”
“Some Arabs came in earlier,” he says. “Wanted to buy the place.”
You can certainly see why. There’s the thriving U-Haul concession. And the busy gas pumps. And the carwash (free with an $8 purchase). Go ahead, put a price on paradise.
Anyway, we got Smartacus moved from one apartment to another, in preparation for his final year here. His gleaming new place is just renovated. The old place was every parent’s nightmare, a dingy old house where 10 young scholars bunked last year. It represented Dante’s seven circles of filth. College at the time of cholera.
So, it’s been a productive trip, getting my son from a dump with a dysentery fridge, into the new place, with brand new toilets and a dream kitchen.
We toast our success at a nice restaurant, Sweet Waters, as sparking as the adjacent river. It’s hot on the patio, and the servers have their hair off their necks, as one does in August.
Yep, it’s too warm by half out here, which is something you could say about the entire Pacific Northwest these days, that it’s now almost as deep-fried as California.
It’s far too hot to be ordering a chewy red wine, which takes custody of my mouth, turns my tongue into a fist and slams it back toward my throat.
Guess I’m partial to beverages that swallow you back.
Like quirky little Eugene does.
Gulp.
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Pure delight. I would love to try that tongue-slamming red. You turn everything into an adventure. Cheers!
It’s interesting to read about the quirky nonconformists up there in Bluejean, Oregon, conforming to nonconformity. I hope that Smartacus has a great senior year, and I hope that he comes home to stay with you for awhile. Thanks for another fun, if poignant, start to the weekend.
You thrive on the apposition of opposites: counter-culture that by virtue of its so-called non-normalities and eccentric extensions that sweetly align is a culture unto itself; and a delight to the soul. It is a dream of every feature writer. Me too, as the non of that—romantic experience junky; Life as travelogue. It doesn’t get any better. Lately I’ve been looking at A.I., a subject I used to teach when “If, then, else” was the technology rather than the current “weighted node backscattering neural net” madness feverishly gripping the appositional fascinations of the tech world—their own tightly bound yet freely associating zeitgeist ever swirling down the latest drain. Eugene as you picture it is a once and future heaven. I think you could write about dirt and make it so. Ahhhh Summer…in Oregon.
Forrest, you had me at “backscattering neural net,” whatever that is. You sure know some stuff!
What’s the name of the coffee place that had the delicious scones?
My sister lives in Eugene and I want her to bring some next week when
she comes for a visit.
Carol Schmiederer
Espresso Roma, 825 13th Ave., a block from campus. Scones cost half what they do at Starbucks, and are twice as big.
As a transplanted Californian into the outer edges of Eugene, I came north to escape Southern California’s eternal summer, and to be able to watch my grandkids grow up. Sadly, you are correct about us becoming as deep-fried as California. But we do have one saving grace where weather is concerned; the old caveat “but it cools off at night.” And we are reasonably secure in the idea that the rains will return come October. Blessed rain. Fingers crossed.
As a transplanted Southern Californian into the fringes of Eugene culture, I have to agree with you about the weather. I moved north to “the land of trees” to escape eternal summer but it appears to have followed me. However, there is one soul-saving fact, the blessed reminder, “it cools off at night.” And there’s always the back-up, fingers-crossed hope that the rains will return in October. I can hardly wait.
Finger crossed
A.I.
We are duplicating the expression
Of intelligence and experience
But will the machines ever be able
To see themselves as others see them?
If so, then with what bright facility
Will they understand human emotion
And the existence of uncertainty?
If not, then their exact utility
Is less than human, which is understood
By humans as a lesser existence;
If we are uncertain of awareness—
If we are uncertain of their wiles
Or lack of them, then their proclivities
Will be suspect, and infidelity
To our survival will create a breach
That sings and drives like a steel metronome
Between us and our brilliant creation;
Life and death is our lot and progression—
Our laboratory, leavened by chance;
Logic and spirit ever capable
Of overcoming the rote delirium
Existence creates—the ability
To dream what is not with a devotion
For unknowns we know as creativity;
This is not a unique facility
Of humans, but when blended with the good
Inventions of the spirit then romance
Can infiltrate logic, and happiness—
Emotion uniquely human—the smiles
Of the mind, will render abilities
As cold as stone into birds—flocks that fly
Out to the unknown dark with a star’s reach
In their minds, ever returning home—
Wings beating a vast common elation—
Emotion driving the rhythms of the heart;
Only then will the bots be truly art
Rendered in our image, not something apart…
A profoundly lovely Saturday morning, this, here on the southwest coast, the ocean humming in the distance its fathoms of unfathomable culture, singing the bright sea air into the day.
Next time you’re in Eugene, or tell the boy to, check out to Mac’s Blues Bar just a few blocks from Max’s. Or maybe you don’t like the blues (horrendous thought).
I will!
Omg I loved this piece!!! I’ve often thought about the life vest thing myself! Thanks for making my morning great!
his senior year ~ ?!? gad zooks ~ why it was only yesterday that he was going off to be a freshman……..
Smartacus in his final year?? A move to new digs!! We just went thru this with my oldest “grand”. The good news is only one more year!! I wonder if Smart will miss Eugene?? You never know! (I wonder if they have ever heard of Sand Dabs in Eugene? (tee tee)!
He’ll miss Eugene for a long time. Nothing like college.
My granddaughter passed on higher (?) learning at Oregon and Washington U choosing SLO, was it a mistake? Your call.
Who am I to judge? Every school is different, as is every student. Kids love SLO, just as they do Oregon. Do you mean the University of Washington or Washington U? Those are two very different options. In any case, I think SLO is a great choice and I’ll be rooting for all the freshmen this fall. In many ways, it’s the most-amazing year of their lives.
Univ of Washington. What do I know, I am a UCLA grad.
good choice
You have this just right. The synergy between institutional strengths and unique “culture” (for wont of a better word) and the similarly unique character, degree of maturity, and mix of learner skills is important for many students. It’s “the fit” recruiters should be looking for, beyond capability to do the work. Some kids would do well anywhere. Many others make the transition, but would do better—and sometimes much better—elsewhere. Economics for most loom large in the choice, nowadays. Most rationalize their choice after the fact because the experience is seminal, formative, and often utterly lovely, coming as it does at a powerfully critical point in the arc of maturity of the individual. The Ivies do a disservice to many, choosing as they often do based on societal ethos. The Land Grants (state universities) do much better, and are the beating heart of our educational powerhouse. SLO is a terrific school; as is Oregon. There are many others, and many paths to freedom. aaahh, the chemistry of the mind.
Hysterical! Yes, those air bag instructions. They need a traffic controller in the aisles. Talk about bottleneck !! I hope your son took pictures of his dorms for future bragging conversations! To think they lived through that and still graduate!! Oh, and you survived the moves!
Re college choices: Agree that the college years resonate forever! SLO — have heard good things! Univ. of Wash — as well and UC San Diego (think Dr. Seuss related). & more. Our oldest has one last year at Davis — Youngest looking at many!!
Hopefully AI won’t deter them from careers. –otherwise all good!
(this is for Barbara)!
Each and every “senior” year and graduations are tough, but when your baby boy reaches that one it is really hard…..suddenly you begin recalling all the “lasts” amidst all of the excitement (they do sneak up on you)
We are now going through the next cycle….grandkids lasts….one has graduated from college 3 are in college…2 have opted for ‘gap” years ..2 are Freshman in HS and the last but not least is beginning middle school. So I guess it’s wipe those tears are that coming and get prepared for the next phase. Above all enjoy each moment, which you have so lovingly shared with us all along the way. Thank you.
Yeah, those life vests….I’m with you….it had better inflate on its own…