Memories

I had to pick up Dimitri yesterday from the golf course that's way, way, way out off I-5 North, Heron Lakes.  I left my office at 4:30, prime rush hour, and immediately hit traffic.  I finally made it to the car pool lane and said a silent prayer of gratitude that with Paulo in the car I met the minimum people requirement to use that lane.  Finally made it to the golf course, I had a vague idea of where we were going but had never been there it was a little shaky, picked him up and started back.  Now I-5 South at 5:30, yes it took me almost a full hour to get to the Golf Course, is even worse.  So I decided to take the scenic route.

Fortunately I have a good sense of direction and knew that if I followed a certain road it would lead me to Lombard St. which I could then take to the St. John's Bridge, to Hwy 30 and ultimately back onto I-5 South.  It's a loop, but we would avoid the traffic traps known as the I-84 on ramp and the Rose Quarter.  Traffic I'm sure was even worse than normal because last night little Justin Bieber was at the Rose Quarter for a concert and thousands of screaming tweens were on their way to watch the little guy sing.  Seriously, how old is he?  I know they say he's 16 but he does not look older than 12!

Anyway, we headed off down into North Portland and immediately I'm hit.  No, not my car, my mind.  Memory after memory after memory flood my brain.  You see, I grew up over there.  I traveled that road regularly.  As I'm driving down the street it's almost an overwhelming sensation.  Look, that's the park we used to play at.  Look, there's where I used to get my hair done-back then it was a beauty school and Mom and I would go to get our hair done by the upper level students.  They also did my prom hair when I was 14-I had a much, much older boyfriend.  I sat in those chairs for hour up on hour waiting for the perm solution to take effect-oh yes, my friends, I had perms-and lots of them.  We drove further and passed our family's favorite Chinese joint-I'm sure it's not the same people running it but the building looks the same.  The Safeway was new, that used to be a Thriftway I think and there was a King's Table buffet across the parking lot that has long since been bulldozed.  Our family of 6 would go to King's Table for special dinners out, I thought that was pretty darn fancy back then.  I was especially fond of the ice cream station.  Oh the big cone of soft serve mixed chocolate and vanilla, that was my favorite.  We made it down through St. Johns, with my children being subjected to a few more oh look...there's....and then across the bridge.  The bridge I used to walk across as a child with my Mother and ride my bike across as a teenager.  I would ride my bike over the bridge and do my shopping for Outdoor School crafts with my best friend, Abbe, then we'd ride to my house and spend hours making bracelets and name tags, making beads and decorating our wood cookies.  We drove down Highway 30 towards I-5, the road I used to travel every single day of my life, and passed the street I grew up on.  The street I came home from the hospital to when I was born.  The street I lived on every year until I was 18, with the exception of 4 years of moving around.  The street where we celebrated every Christmas, every Easter, every birthday.  The street that I used to run down as a little girl to greet my Daddy when he came home from work.  The street I trudged up with my backpack heavy after school.  The street where the house still stands-for now.  The house, now empty and abandoned but still owned by my Father, needs to be demolished, it's falling down, it's unsafe.  Frankly by my standards it was probably unsafe when I lived in it too, but I didn't know any different and above all, it was home.  A few minutes walk away from the house sat a restaurant.  The restaurant that my Mother and I walked to for lunch on my 13th birthday and she gave me her ruby ring.  The building still stands, but it's an adult video store now, which makes me sad. 

I don't travel those roads anymore.  Neither literally nor figuratively.  It feels like a lifetime ago, and really, that's not far from true.  I lived there for 18 years.  I've lived elsewhere for 18 years.  And where I live today could not be farther than where I grew up, on many different levels.  Part of me feels sad about that.  There's a lot to be said for urban living.  From the outside looking in I see a greater sense of community involvement and interpersonal connections.  I look at my neighborhood, safe in the 'burbs, and I don't see any of that connectivity.  We live in a bedroom community, we live our lives elsewhere and come home to eat and sleep.  There's little opportunity for getting out and getting to know my neighbors.  If I want a latte, I have to get in my car and drive a couple of miles.  When you live in an urban area chances are, you can walk.  It might not be Starbucks-who am I kidding Starbucks are everywhere!-but you can walk down the street and get a latte.  Not me.  I think I'd like it though. 

I'm glad I decided to take that scenic route.  The timing was right, I was nostalgic and a little emotional already because of my birthday.  It was good to remember where I came from and also how far I've come.