Happy New Year...Go Pirates

"Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?"

Happy Birthday and Happy New Year

The two phrases are inseparable -- and have been ever since we adopted Jordan back in 1988. He was born Dec. 31, 1987, and he came into our lives the following May.

Today he turned 22. I got off the phone with him a short while ago. He was munching on one of his favorite foods -- cheese pizza -- and taking a break with Jamie from the process of moving into their own place in El Paso. Funny how we've managed to reduce the number of boxes we had to maneuver around when we moved into our condo, and now they're having to do the same.

I don't think I've ever been any prouder of Jordan than I have been this year. It may sound trite to say it, but he has gone from teenager (even at 20 and 21) to young man since joining the military and, later, joining lives with Jamie as a married couple. He sounds more focused, more mature on the phone. We saw evidence of the maturation process when we traveled to Georgia this summer to see him graduate from basic training.

So now we wait with him as he awaits word of whether he will be part of the class accepted for Special Forces training in North Carolina. A last-minute paperwork screw-up (a clerical error, not his fault) prevented him from submitting a complete packet this week; he has to wait until Monday and hope the Army puts him with the group he's trained with for the past few weeks. Otherwise, it's wait for a new ship date to N.C., but with an entirely different group of soldiers.

Our good friends, Sue and Eric, are coming over for what promises to be a wild New Years Eve. We'll have a cioppino (fish stew) dinner, followed by board games. It's nice to be the hosts. Don't have to travel anywhere. Get to sleep in tomorrow, make some chili beans and watch the Rose Bowl.

Photo: Jordan and Jamie in Columbus, Ga.,July 2009.

Happy New Year from Chateau Gahan

So, this isn't a new home scene for most of you who frequent my blog, but it is probably one of the scenes that most captures what my home life is all about . . . coziness, a big hairy dog, squishy slip-covered furniture, grammy lamps, and a project to work on. This evening I'll forgo the bad TV (at least until 10:00 when a new Jersey Shore comes on . . . guilty as charged) and sit down at the table in the study to work on the invitations for Ali's bridal shower. And a fun project it is, especially when I've got Michael Buble singing in my ear (well, on the stereo, but I pretend to feel his warm breath in my ear as he croons sweet nothings).

Here's to a wonderful 2010. To those who visit me and those whom I visit. We're truly a big happy family. And that doesn't go unappreciated by me, not at all. I am blessed by each and every one of you.

A Gift for the Birds

Every year around the holidays I get the birds a little something special. And so this year, from my kitchen sink, this is what I am looking at most of the day.

Pictures In An Empty Room

"Sleep takes off the costume of circumstance, arms us with terrible freedom, so that every will rushes to deed. A skillful man reads his dreams for his self-knowledge; yet not the details, but the quality. What part does he play in them - a cheerful, manly part, or a poor, drivelling part? However monstrous and grotesque their apparitions, they have a substantial truth."

(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Slicks, Sleet, Seven Speeds, And A Snow Bunny Sighting: The Wednesday Ride

As much as I hate to admit it, Mongo spends more time watching the Weather Channel than a seventy five year old retiree living in Boca..."I loves me some Stephanie Abrams!" The upside to my meteorological fetish is that I have a good idea of how to plan my riding for each particular week. Unfortunately, the weather around here has been wet and cold for a couple of months and my riding has been a lot more specific because of it. Yesterday was a perfect example.

Mongo decided to do the 23/2300 Hammerfest loop on my mountain bike, Li'l Pony Express. I figured hauling a 23 lb hardtail with compact gearing around the course would be a challenge...I was correct. Mongo had about a five to ten minute head start on two of his teammates (who didn't invite me on the super-secret "fast guys only" ride with them), and I was pushing it pretty hard. Add in the fact that it was close to freezing, and sleeting occasionally, and it turned out to be a doozy.

Before the ride, I decided to use the mountain gearing to my advantage and never get out of the saddle when climbing. Even on the steepest inclines, I was in the 32 or 22 ring spinning my big ass off. I really felt it in my hips afterwards, but it turned out to be a great ride and workout. I'll definitely be taking LPE around the course again soon.

Speaking of hips, Mongo ran into his "Arch Nemesis" at the shop before the ride. I hadn't seen him in months, and word on the street was that he wasn't riding at all. After talking with him, he explained that the reason behind his lack of riding was due to an undiagnosed hip problem causing him chronic pain... that, and he also had a broken vagina.

The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

If you're in the mood for a book with a more classical twist that still draws your attention, this is the book for you.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the genius who brought you Sherlock Holmes wrote The Lost World, a story about a London reporter in search of adventure to win over the heart of a girl. Cliched slightly? Not really because this book was written before there were such things as cliches (well, almost).

Any who, the book begins with a young lad named Ed Malone. Ed just had his heart broken by a girl; she told him she could never love a man who didn't have an adventure to his name. Luckily for Ed Malone, he winds up on one of the greatest adventures ever. When forced to interview the hot-tempered Professor Challenger, Ed sees his opportunity for at least some minimal action. What he receives is an offer he never excepts. Professor Challenger invites him to a sort of press conference for science. Challenger shocks his audience with a fascinating story of dinosaurs in the present world. Words are spoken and shouted, and the next thing Malone knows, he's off to South America to discover the lost world. He faces challenges along the way, including betrayal, dinosaurs, hairy ape men, and much, much more.

Overall, the book is extremely exciting, and it kept me on the edge of my seat right up to the end. If you're worried that classical literature is much to wordy for you to handle, don't be. This book is easy to read. If you're wanting to break into classical literature, this could be the book for you. 4 stars out of five, two thumbs up.

Surprise! Snow!

The flakes began falling during the early afternoon. I got up from my desk and rushed over to a co-worker's office to look out the window and see for myself.

For anyone who's lived in a place where snow is a regular occurrence, it probably seems silly the way Portlanders fall over themselves -- sometimes literally -- whenever it happens here.

I guess it happens seldom enough that it's still kind of magical. You can almost sense the whole city stopping what it's doing to look up and see these delicate flakes floating down from the heavens, somehow piling up in such quantity that they leave beauty wherever you look.

Walking home after a longer-than-usual bus ride, it occurred to me that snow is like a great equalizer. It puts a Saab on an even footing with a Subaru or a Ford. Without proper traction devices on the tires, they're going to slip and slide. It makes a wealthy neighborhood look like identical to a poor one. Snow obscures a manicured lawn just as it does one where car parts are strewn about.

Lights gleam brighter. Silence envelops whole neighborhoods. Ice clings to tree branches in the hills and on the flats. Ain't no difference anywhere.

Photos: Above, looking north on N.E. 13th Avenue; at left, our condo, with holiday lights.

"Need You Now"

Sometimes a song comes out of nowhere, as this one did last month.

Lady Antebellum at the Country Music Awards. There was a time when I wouldn't have even considered watching that show or listening to that genre of music.

I credit a couple of visits to Nashville with opening my mind to the possibilities. This is a far cry from the days of Loretta Lynn and Hank Williams, to say the least.

My Berklee Audition part 1

I've decided to stray from my usual article topics in a desperate dash at some bonus points. So, as weird as it is, I'll blog about my audition in Chicago on Saturday the 12th of December.

I left Friday for Chicago right after school. We stopped in a suburb to visit my two stepbrothers who live together at med school. We had a dinner at a restaurant that had me feeling like I was in the twilight zone. When we walked in the guy asked us how many people we had, but then we had to wait in line and order at a cash register. So it was like steak and shake, but fast-foody-er. Ya that's a word. Then there was a bar where they served fancy wines and malted beverages, but I received a cup in which I proceeded to the soft drink machine to fill up with some soda. The food was then brought to our table in less than one minute. Very strange.

We then went to the hotel in downtown Chicago after finding the school and admiring the Christmas lights adorning the overwhelming city. The hotel was also very strange because there were three or four hotels, all on the same city block, all connected, all surrounding a very small and confusing parking garage. After walking around half of the block with two guitars, a small amp, a bag of guitar pedals and cables, and a clothes bag, we got in our hotel and went up in the elevator where my mom accidentally hit the emergency button and we listened to a guy repeat, "elevator two help, elevator two help" all the way up. Then we entered the room and the fire alarm beeps. We all then proceed to cuss, and once relaxed, call the front desk to send up a battery. A Hispanic gentleman struggled for a while, and after getting help from another Hispanic gentleman they finally replaced the battery. The two men left the room, and my mom and I leaned in and at the exact same time said, "Everyone's thinking it.....How many Mexicans does it take to change a light bulb.??" After a good laugh, I prepared for my audition and we retired to the clicking sound of wheels driving up and down the parking garage. (To be continued)...

Philly 104, Portland 93

I couldn't have asked for a better scenario. Lori was having some friends over and I had a free evening, so I bought myself a single ticket to tonight's Trail Blazers game, figuring they'd make quick work of the lowly 76ers and extend their improbable winning streak to five.

Pfft! Didn't happen.

The Blazers used their superior talent to build a halftime lead but then lost it in the third quarter and never regained it, suffering an embarrassing loss to one of the NBA's worst teams.

There's never a guarantee, even when you think the game is a gimme. A win would have been nice, though, because everything went so right. An early dinner of turkey leftovers, a short walk to the bus stop for a five-minute ride to the Rose Garden, a great aisle seat in the third deck -- even a decent shot of the court and the scoreboard (above) before the game started.

I was looking at the Blazers' schedule at halftime and mentally penciling in a game or two I might attend in February. Now I've got second thoughts. (Yes, I know I sound spoiled. Everybody loves a winner. Even with the loss, the Blazers are still just a half-game out of first place in their division. But had they won, they'd be in first place as I write this.)

Oh, well, maybe the best thing about the evening is that I walked home from the game in the cool, crisp air. It took only 25 minutes and it made me think, "How cool is this?" Hard to beat for an urban experience, when you live so close to the arena you don't have to drive or even take public transportation to the game.

Someone Please Get The Monk A Real Board

Mongo has always been a big fan of the Buddhists. I have tried to incorporate many of their principles into my own spiritual web, so to see a monk cruising on a board in a remote mountain temple in China just reinforces to me how cool they are. But...

He's riding a frickin' "Razor". Come on...!!! It's a toy, not a skateboard. Isn't Bob Burnquist a Buddhist? C'mon Bob...send your boy some schwag!

Who Gets The "Juice" In '010 ?...Stay Tuned

2010 UCI ProTeams

AG2R LA MONDIALE

ASTANA

CAISSE D'EPARGNE

EUSKALTEL - EUSKADI

FOOTON-SERVETTO

FRANÇAISE DES JEUX

GARMIN - SLIPSTREAM

LIQUIGAS-DOIMO

OMEGA PHARMA-LOTTO

QUICK STEP

RABOBANK

SKY PROFESSIONAL CYCLING TEAM

TEAM COLUMBIA - HTC

TEAM KATUSHA

TEAM MILRAM

TEAM RADIOSHACK

TEAM SAXO BANK

Still Life: Christmas Oranges, Ice Skates and a Big Hairy Dog

[And a WHOLE week off of work!]

It's Been Broughten: The Sunday Ride

Mongo's been so full of himself lately, it's been quite amusing to watch. Based solely on some recent strong performances in the highly competitive, Winter-multi-layered-solo-training-ride-Series, I am really feeling my oats. Coupled with the new co-ed, Double-Dutch team I just joined, my fitness level for this time of year may be at an all time high. It's no wonder that Mongo is confident that he will burst onto the scene next year and dominate the Cat 5 peloton. Everyone will wonder where this old timer came from. Obviously...it's time for a new nickname!

As a cyclist, I knew there was just one sports hero, who was fictitiously portrayed in a movie, that accurately captured my upcoming story of next year's racing season. I'm talking about, of course, "Stroker Ace", from the movie "Stroker Ace". Since not too many people have seen this masterpiece, I decided to stick with an old standby.

Played proudly by Robert Redford, Roy Hobbs is an aging and wounded ballplayer who, through mystical means, manages to triumph over extreme corruption and adversity to have one last glorious moment in the spotlight. Therefore...Mongo's new Winter, alter ego, training nickname will be..."The Situation". Yeah...Jersey fist pumpin' in da house!!!

Oh yeah, "The Situation" did the MNR loop today plus an extra fifteen on the trail... "Yous girls wanna get in da hot tub?"

Report cards for kindergartners?

No matter how long it's been since you were in school, I'd guess you might still carry the memory of your best or worst report card. (I still remember the C in Art and the D in General Music that I received as a fifth grader. Both pretty much confirmed I had no talent in either area but, still, it felt pretty harsh being judged in that way.)

But do you remember your first report card? Probably not.

In that vein, do you think 5-year-olds are too young to receive their first one?

You may be interested in an op-ed piece we published today in The Oregonian, written by Aki Mori, a follower of this blog and a regular commenter.

Aki is the parent of a kindergartner and a teacher in the Beaverton School District. He and I met a few months ago, prompted by the fact we had a Bay Area thing in common. Before moving to Oregon, he taught in the public schools in Union City, Calif. And, years ago, that's where I attended grade school (Decoto Elementary) before moving to Fremont.

In any case, Aki has impressed me as a very thoughtful guy and earnest writer -- just the kind of young educator we should all be thankful for. Read his essay here and share your two cents.

L-VII

The big Cincuenta y Siete.
Fifty-seven.

Whew. How did I get to be 57?

Yes, it's only a number -- and yes, I'm in great health. But still...

Did a quick internet check to see who else shares my birthday and came up with this lame list of three from historyorb.com

- Jay Hill, Canadian politician
- Karla Bonoff, rock singer (New World, Restless Nights)
- Tovah Feldshuh, American actress

Ah, well, it isn't much better the day before or a day later...

12-26:
- Andre-Michel Schub, Paris France, pianist (Van Cliburn-1981)

12-28:
- Arun Jaitley, Indian Politician
- Ray Knight, 3rd baseman (NY Mets, Balt Orioles)
- S Epatha Merkerson, Saginaw MI, actress (Lt Van Buren-Law and Order)

But, hey, who cares about celebrity or pseudo-celebrity? If the past year has taught me anything -- or, more accurately, reinforced it -- it's the importance of family. With each year, as life presents new challenges and opportunities, unforeseen circumstances and conundrums, it's comforting to know there's someone along for the ride.

Maybe it's a coincidence that Lori and I went out to the movies last night and saw "Up In The Air," the new film where George Clooney stars as an Omaha-based consultant who spends 322 days a year on the road and makes his living flying into one corporate office after another laying people off. It's a soulless, commitment-free existence and one he touts as an occasional motivational speaker, with his trademark presentation, "What's In Your Backpack?"

Suffice to say that in the course of developing a relationship with a fellow road warrior, based in Chicago, and mentoring a younger version of himself, a calculating Ivy League grad who develops a protocol for laying people off during videoconferencing, he comes to question the wisdom of his ways. Does he come to his senses? Do those other two women in his life come to theirs? Go check it out.

As for me, I'll be spending the morning with Lori and looking forward to the kids coming over for a turkey dinner tonight.

Photograph: Anna Kendrick and George Clooney.

Merry Christmas from the doctors

Asthma has always been a part of my life. I never go anywhere without my inhaler. This past Christmas took my asthma to a new level. My grandparents came over on Christmas Day to play some cards with the family. I noticed my grandpa looked unnaturally red in the face and was coughing an awful lot. When I got even closer I noticed he was wheezing and having trouble breathing, talking, and eating. I too had been huffing and puffing, but my asthma was under control, or so I thought. I let my grandpa use my nebulizer to ease open his passageway. It worked remarkably well and I let him take it home with him over the night thinking my asthma would not need it.

Well, 9:00 rolled around and I was having some difficulty breathing. I used my inhaler without much luck. I tried to fall asleep but without much luck I resolved to lying awake just concentrating on my breathing. For those of you who don't have asthma, imagine sucking air through a straw for countless hours. Nothing I tried would open my lung passage.
Finally at 3:00 am with only about one hour of sleep, I awake my mom and told her I needed to go to grandpa's house to use the nebulizer. She jumped out of bed wide awake and drove me to grandpa's. We opened the garage door only to find their door locked. I tried ringing the doorbell several times unsuccessfully. My mom drove home (undoubtedly like a mad woman) while I continued trying the doorbell. Finally, my grandparents opened the door surprised to see me standing there in my pajamas at 3 in the morning. I whispered to them that I couldn't breathe and needed to use the nebulizer. Thankfully they understood me and hurried to get me a treatment.

After 10 minutes of successful breathing, I returned home to my own room. Not but five minutes later did my rasping breathing return. I was disappointed and upset. I slept another hour before I gave up and decided to start my day.

Early the next morning, my grandpa and I made a trip to the local Prompt Care. Dr. Arora fixed me up with some stronger medicines to help control my asthma. I'm pretty sure I'm on about 5 different drugs right now. Needless to say, they have been working and my breathing is back to normal.

Way Back To The Future

There are a couple of things that Mongo finds fascinating about this photograph. First of all, this handsome young man looks exactly like Mongo did at that age...haircut and wardrobe included. Secondly, based on the car in the background, I'd say this photo was taken in the late 40's/early 50's.

This kid is either building the first skateboard "ever", or it's the base for what will become a push-scooter...which were popular at the time.

Season of Sharing 2009

It's getting to be late afternoon on Christmas Day. After a late-morning breakfast with Lori, Simone, Kyndall and Nathan, and opening of gifts, I took a short nap, then got up and ran a little over four miles in the brilliant sunshine -- a welcome surprise and a huge change from a year ago, when we had snow on the ground.

Now, as I sit down for a few minutes at the computer, knowing Christmas dinner is prepared and that all my loved ones are safe and sound and healthy, I know I am blessed.

And so my thoughts turn to those who are less fortunate. Specifically, the families and individuals profiled in this year's Season of Sharing Wishbook. Every year, The Oregonian writes about such people and nonprofit programs that assist them with a variety of social services.

If you're like me, your mailbox is inundated this time of year with appeals for tax-deductible donations. No doubt many of them are worthy. For my money, there's no better recipients than those profiled in the Wishbook. (I've helped select the cases and also served as editor of the Wishbook a couple times, so I know what goes into the annual holiday fundraiser. Hats off, btw, to my colleague Amy Wang, who served as editor for the third time this year.) All administrative costs are paid for by the Oregonian Publishing Co., so every dollar goes to these recipients. If you're in a position to give, please join me in doing so.

Photograph of Voycetta White, domestic violence survivor, by Ross William Hamilton of The Oregonian.

Christmas Magic

When I walked into the Macy's store on 34th Street in New York about a month ago it seemed like any other department store at Christmas time, but as I made my way to the 8th floor, yes there were nine, I fell in love. My mom, little sister, and I were surrounded by 12 foot tall stuffed animals, tables full of toys and candy, 3 foot tall candy canes, yard sticks of bubble gum, 6 foot high toy soldiers and this is not even close to an exaggeration. All the toys and candy were real, no lie. I was amazed, I looked at my mom and asked why she couldn't have taken me here when I was five. She rolled her eyes, but being on the 8th floor of Macy's made me remember the magic of Christmas I experienced as a child. Anything was possible on Christmas.

Now I sit on my bed on Christmas morning writing this blog article; I had surgery yesterday so will not be attending church with my family. When I was younger at this time the house would be covered in garland on every railing, the contents of every shelf had been replaced with Santa figurines, two Christmas trees lit up the scraps of wrapping paper carelessly ripped of the toys, and sugar cookies baked to perfection and decorated by my sister and I sat on the counter looking inedible, but still tasting delicious.

Things have changed a little bit: we have one tree set up, lacking piles and piles of presents, no cookies, garland, and this year even no Santas were set out. I did no Christmas shopping, I blame it on the Christmas Eve surgery, but I know that's hardly an excuse. What happened to the magic of Christmas? Does it just disappear as you get older and busier? Or is it just me? And I hope it's not the case that it is loosing its magic all together... we are having Christmas dinner for a family of 40 catered in for the first time ever this year. I know I won't be able to tell till I see the faces of my younger cousins on Saturday, but Christmas just isn't as exciting as when you're five, and it seems to me everyone just keeps trying to turn it into a hassle instead of a celebration.

Adeste Fideles

"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more."

(Dr. Seuss)

"I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."

(Charles Dickens)

"In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'"

(Dave Barry)

When You've Officially Stopped Being Gnarly

Forrest Gump's Other Tee Shirt Idea

For People Who Have Ollie Envy

As someone who used to fly gas-powered, R/C planes and pilot R/C boats as a youth, I can tell you that, though cool looking, this skateboard concept is one thrown rider away from becoming a dangerous weapon.

Mongo made an Air-Boat once which had almost this exact configuration but with a smaller engine... and it was clocked at 30 mph.

A toast to our heroes

As the sky begins to darken on Christmas Eve, I want to share this column by David Ignatius of The Washington Post, one of the most knowledgable commentators on foreign affairs generally and on Iraq and Afghanistan in particular.

Ignatius reports from Forward Operating Base Frontenac in Afghanistan, a place where our son, Jordan, could be headed next year, if a number of variables fall into place.

"This holiday season is a good time to remember these faraway soldiers. The debate over Afghanistan has provoked strong feelings, pro and con. But the country seems united in its appreciation for a military that has been suffering the stresses of war, without complaint, for the last eight years."

Read the piece here.

Above: U.S. soldiers with Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 17th Infantry Regiment, 5th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division rest on their Stryker armored vehicles at Forward Operating Base Frontenac, Afghanistan, on Nov. 3, 2009. (U.S. Air Force photo By Tech. Sgt. Francisco V. Govea II/Released)

Last-Minute Christmas To-Do's

I actually enjoy leaving a handful of items to do on Christmas Eve. The day is so festive, everyone is in good moods, people wearing Santa hats while shopping. Dear daughter Harleigh agreed to tackle half of my list (a good portion of it more errand-related) and so in good time we got the last-minute gifts bought, Henry the mailman found en route so we could give him his Christmas gift (love living in an area where you know the mailman by name), dry cleaning picked up, met up for lunch together, got Gideon from the groomer (he's gotta look good when Santa comes tonite!), and finished the last of the cakes to deliver to neighbors. In past years I've done the standard 48 dozen cookies, but this year, what with all the other commitments, I scaled it back to something more manageable, so neighbors got a warm-from-the-oven poppy seed cake instead. The pans, bowls and beaters are washed, we're getting ready for church and an evening with family — dinner, English poppers, singing Christmas carols, and laughing. Jesus likes this a lot, I'm sure.

The Meaning of Life

That's how Esquire bills its annual "What I've Learned" issue, featuring wisdom and advice from a cross-section of mostly well-known people.

It's a fast read and an entertaining format, where the interviewee's direct quotes are presented in short bursts, sometimes a single sentence, sometimes a tight paragraph. You don't know what the exact question was that prompted the answer but sometimes you can guess.

This month the magazine displayed its creativity (and resources) by piecing together interviews with John, Robert and Ted Kennedy -- the first time it's ever been done with someone who's not living. And how did they do this? By sending top editors to the LBJ Library in Texas and the Kennedy Library in Boston and trolling through their resources.

"And then," Editor David Granger explains, "a pack of assistant editors and interns combed through out-of-print books, long-forgotten news accounts, and even back issues of Esquire in search of revealing, surprising and personal reflections in the brothers' own words -- both official and offhand -- to offer a collective portrait, more textured, candid and intimate than just the legacy of their more familiar public pronouncements, many of which are seared into our collective consciousness."

The result is a window into the brothers' privileged lives as well as the humor, vanity and sense of hope that defined them.

The inside spread begins with a black-and-white photo of the three in Hyannis Port, Mass., circa 1948 with all three -- Jack, 31, Bobby, about 22, and Ted, 16 -- smiling broadly at the camera, as if they hadn't a care in the world. And then you read:

I have no firsthand knowledge of the Depression. My family had one of the great fortunes of the world and it was worth more than ever then. We had bigger houses, more servants, we traveled more. About the only thing that I saw directly was when my father hired some extra gardeners just to give them a job so they could eat. I really did not learn about the Depression until I read about it at Harvard. My experience was the war. I can tell you about that. -- JFK, 1960.

[FYI, During the Depression, 1929-39, John would have been ages 12 to 22.]

Some people think that because you have money and position you are immune from the human experience. But I can feel as lonesome and lost as the next man when I turn the key in the door and go into an empty house that is usually full of kids and dogs. -- RFK, late sixties.

My brothers were my dearest friends. They were just human beings -- and wanted to be considered that way -- but they were extraordinary. I cared very deeply about them, loved them. I miss them. No day goes by when I don't. That gap will be with me for the rest of my life. No way to bridge that. -- EMK, 1985.

The January 2010 issue features interviews with 15 people, ranging from Kelsey Grammer, Sting and Ornette Coleman to 50 Cent, Alberto Gonzales and Katie Stam, the reigning Miss America from Seymour, Indiana. Buy it, read it and pass it along. Or...just click here.

Photograph: JFK Presidential Library

Christmas Break

First I would just like to say Merry Christmas to all of you.
Okay, so I know we all can't wait for our beloved Christmas break. It's a time to relax and not think about school for a couple of weeks. Which is awesome, if I may say so myself. Which brings me to the main point of this blog entry.

I don't know if any of you guys have noticed, but our Christmas break is significantly shorter this year. We get out of school two days before Christmas. TWO DAYS!! Last year we had over two weeks of break, but this year we only have 13 days. While all of us will be sitting in classrooms taking exams on Monday and Tuesday, kids from Effingham High School and other surrounding schools will be sleeping in, shopping, and most of all not taking exams! (Lucky them). If we got done with exams on Friday, we would have four extra days of vacation. FOUR EXTRA DAYS!! (wow).

I know some people will say, 'But we get out of school earlier in the summer.' I don't know about all of you, but I would rather have a longer Christmas break than summer break. Summer break doesn't feel longer with an extra two days, but Christmas break does. Summer is awesome, but I cherish my Christmas time away from school.

Warm Wishes...

Trash the Dress: Lanikai Beach, Oahu

This lovely couple's wedding photography package included an engagement session, but due to scheduling conflicts and weather issues, the engagement session turned into a trash-the-dress at Lanikai Beach.

We will be posting special offers on the AinaKai facebook page starting in January 2010. Here's wishing all our blog readers Mele Kalikimaka (Merry Christmas) and a very happy New Year.

Sandy's rousing sendoff

At 3 p.m. yesterday, those of us in The Oregonian's newsroom dropped what we were doing to gather in The Well -- the conference room that's become our living room -- to toast our retiring editor, Sandy Rowe. (Yes, we actually raised a glass of champagne.)

Barely two weeks earlier, she had surprised us with the announcement she'd be leaving us at the end of the year. (See earlier post: "Sandy calls it quits") We've been through so many sad times in that room the past two years, saying farewell to beloved colleagues who were retiring early or taking a buyout, that I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Thankfully, this was an upbeat affair -- all about celebrating a gifted editor and leader with a sensitive side that surfaced when staffers were going through tough personal times.

We watched and laughed at a tribute video filled with various staffers recalling favorite anecdotes or lessons learned; nodded in agreement as the publisher, the new editor and others recounted her achievements, her personal qualities and her legacy; and listened attentively as Sandy herself thanked us for a great 16-year run at the helm of the paper.

In a booklet that compiled direct quotes from 81 current and former staffers, fellow editors from around the country and other industry leaders, these are some of the words that
were used to describe her:

Power, charisma, confidence.
Gem of an editor and good-hearted friend.
Inspiration and a class act.
Generous with her encouragement and praise, direct with her criticism.
Energy and originality.
Gracious.
Charming and suave.
Stylish outfits and fantastic jewelry.
Huge inspirational presence.
Intelligence, decency, high-mindedness of purpose.
One kick-ass woman.

My take?

Every single time I walked into Sandy's office and sat in the chair across from her desk, I knew one thing: She would be prepared to listen to me. Whether it was five minutes or fifteen, Sandy would not be on the phone, she would not be writing, she would not be typing, she would not be looking past me with an air of impatience. She'd look me in the eye and we'd converse one-on-one with no interruptions. In that simple way of doing things, she conveyed that I mattered and that she cared about what I said. My takeaway from that? Stop what you're doing -- set down your pen, look away from the computer screen, turn your body toward the other person -- and give the other person your full attention.

Of all the things said yesterday, it was something Sandy said that resonated most. Her eyes sweeping the room and her voice quavering just a bit, she said to us: "Nothing compares to the feeling of being wrapped in the love of The Oregonian."

As someone who gave so much of herself to make us all better -- to make us the best regional newspaper in the country -- she leaves with the admiration of all of us who were lucky enough to work with her during what will surely go down as The Oregonian's Golden Age.

Little Brother by Cory Doctorow

Hello again. I'm back for another book review. Yet again I'm going for a different genre. This one is a sort of post-apocalyptic book. The book is called Little Brother, and it was written by Cory Doctorow. The book starts out with a nerdy senior named Marcus. Marcus is super tech-savvy; he knows how to write computer code, can understand cryptology, taught his entire school how to fool their school board's monitoring of their computers, and even built his own computer from scratch.

This book actually takes place in the near future in San Fransisco and can be rather startling at some points. You see, Marcus and some of his friends skip school one day to play a new online game. Unfortunately, that same day, there is a terrorist attack on San Fransisco. The Department of Homeland Security arrests Marcus and his friends and tortures them and all of that jazz, thinking he is a terrorist. When Marcus is finally released, he comes back to find his city completely controlled by the DHS. The DHS are keeping tabs on everyone, so it reminiscent of George Orwell's 1984. Well needless to say, Marcus is not too happy with the DHS at that point, so he decides to oppose them at every turn. He hitches numerous plans to thwart them, all of them more ingenious than the last.

The book can be highly unrealistic at parts, I mean how many seniors do you know who have a complete grasp on cryptology, let alone can spell it? I will give Cory D. this though, he can make a story interesting. If you can get past all of the technical language, the book is actually pretty entertaining. 3.5 stars, and one thumb up.

~Drew W.

Matchbox Advent Calendar

When I picked Amanda's name at our office Secret Santa, I knew just what I would craft for her. She loves loves loves Christmas AND she has a baby boy due in March. I'd seen these matchbox advent calendars on several blogs and craft sites, and just knew I could make a super cute one for her family of three to enjoy for years to come.

I lined each box with paper, painted the drawers ends white, made ribbon pulls (using Fray Check on the ends; love this product!), filled the drawers with goodies, covered the outside of the boxes with wrapping paper, and embellished with plastic bulbs, a snow-tipped forest tree, and a little deer nestled on reindeer moss. For the numbers, I used an old-fashioned rubber stamp, the kind where you turn a wheel to the numbers you want to print.

Amanda was thrilled. And it was one of the most fun craft projects I've ever done!

Prayer Cards

I went to a local Catholic gift and book store the other day and was drawn to these laminated prayer cards. Just look at the beautiful images, the serene colors.

The power of a pickle

As Christmas Day approaches and a battery of economic indicators point toward an agonizingly slow recovery, here's a story of hope at the holidays: "A nation in need of a Yodeling Pickle."

Written by my friend and former colleague, Spencer Heinz, the piece ran two Sundays ago in The Oregonian. In it, Spencer told the story of a Portland couple who own a joke and novelty shop and how, with help from loyal customers, they're trying to stay in business in these very tough times. You'd think it would be difficult since their store offers the ultimate in discretionary items -- fake spiders, toy eyeballs, pretend vomit ... even a battery-operated Yodeling Pickle.

I posted a followup on the Opinion blog a few days later, summarizing the public's response to these merchants. But that was trumped yesterday by the email (dated Dec. 19) I received from Spencer.

***

Hi,

I just wanted to make sure you knew how much your story helped that store, Bazaar of the Bizarre. I went in there a few days before the story came out, to spend $10 on gifts for an 8 years old’s birthday party. I was the only customer in the store (someone else was keeping warm and waiting for their ride). When I put my $10.50 down, the owner acted surprised, like it was a large transaction. Maybe it was the first or only of the day.

Last Sunday when I saw the story and very nice picture, I posted the link to the neighborhood association (Montavilla) email list, with some of my comments about being a several-time customer of the store, yesterday’s pricing, “something for everyone” and that it contributes to the character of Glisan St.

Today, Saturday, I went in there for a last minute gift exchange item around 11:30. There were maybe 20 people in the store. I asked Keith if he had any yodeling pickles left – I was just curious, didn’t want one. He pointed to a shelf behind me, across from the check-out counter. There seemed to be 8-10 on the top shelf. I asked if he sold a lot of them since the article. He said about 100. I asked if this is a typical Christmas crowd. Lynne said it’s 10 times the usual Christmas crowd, due to the article. By the time I was ready to check out, there were 8-10 people in line. I couldn’t believe it, I have never seen a line in that store. I even took pictures with my phone camera to give to the owners later. The owners were both taking customers and keeping the line moving, no time for their usual witty banter and demonstration of products. I don’t think they even looked up as people came in the front door.

The whole time I was standing in line I noticed there were no more pickles on that top shelf across from check out. I told Lloyd, after my 30 second transaction (had my exact change ready, no receipt needed, just to help them keep the line moving). He stood up and looked surprised. He told his wife they need to go stock more. I think he left her alone with the long line of customers while he went to the back room. There were more people in the store when I left than when I had arrived 20 minutes earlier. Almost all were middle aged, professional looking, serious about spending money there, and having a good time selecting their purchases. As I was leaving, more people were coming in the door and others were parking or getting out of their cars. I am not used to seeing so many cars parked in that block. There were 8-10 cars in one direction and maybe 3-4 in the previous block. I went to Gresham for about 2 hours and when I drove by the store on the way home, it was even more packed, like 25-30 people, 10 or so in line, parked cars for more than a block along the curb. I hope the owners were able to take meal and bathroom breaks. They were taking a lot of phone calls, too, sounded like people asking if they’re open today and maybe how late.

Good job on the article. It was fun and interesting to read. Obviously, people from outside of the immediate neighborhood came over to patronize the business, as a result of your article. One man told me he lives near Fremont and didn’t know about this store until he read the article. His arms were loaded with purchases. He said it’s been so long since he’s seen many of these items and it makes him nostalgic.

Maria

***

Is there a lesson here? You bet. Shop local. Patronize independently owned small businesses in your neighborhood. If they thrive, so do we.

Photo of Lynne and Keith Hetrick by Spencer Heinz