Just two days ago, I appeared at the end of a residential road in Portland. Feeling a bit like Dorothy in Oz, I thought, well, we’re not in North Carolina anymore. Then of course, realized I was talking to myself and using a cliche movie quote. Weird even in Oz.
Then, like a mirage (but not really, because she knew that I was on her street), my friend and former co-worker Sarah appeared as well. My long-standing promise to visit her in Portland was finally fulfilled.
I was a little nervous to come here. My vagabond heart is shy to take roots, and if any place has the power to change that, it’s Portland, Oregon. Breathtaking views, a lively downtown, and a community of intelligent, passionate, and artistic trendsetters (the H-word will not be mentioned in this particular post).
It’s a magnetic place.
There’s an episode of 30 Rock (Cleveland, Season One, Ep. 20), where Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) and her boyfriend Floyd (Jason Sudekis), visit Cleveland, his hometown. Liz encounters wonderful things that make her seriously consider leaving New York. The air smells cleaner, she’s mistaken for a model, she visits the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and she’s offered a job as the host of a local cooking show.
So far, I have similar feelings about Portland.
Since I’ve been here, I’ve ridden clean public transportation that’s stupid easy to figure out. A polite mother and son offered me a ride to Sarah’s street so I wouldn’t have to take the bus. We went to an awesome Portland bar where we played board games with friendly, fun Portlandians. A stranger offered to share her fries with me before even saying hi. Another invited me to a concert on Saturday. The people were genuinely interested in me and my writing.
So much, in fact, I suspected that Sarah had bribed strangers to be awesome so I’d be more tempted to move here.
Also, a toothless man told me I was pretty.
On my way to Powell Books (a crazy huge new and used bookstore downtown), I thought about how at home I felt in Portland. I’m sure it has it’s flaws, but I know it will have special shine for me. It’s the kind of city that I can imagine growing old in. I could see the rest of my days here, writing columns for a local paper, perhaps teaching a writing or creative class at a local university.
Besides a future with a thriving writing career, someday, I want to build some kind of legacy, and that goes beyond just writing a book or spending a month in Iceland. One day, I’d like to have that whole, perfect picture – you know, the kind people send out on Christmas cards.
As Jason Sudekis says in the Cleveland episode, “l dream about moving back to Lakewood. Or maybe even Shaker Heights. Big Creek Parkway. Send the kids to St. John Bosco’s, you know? Maybe even cheering on the Tribe at the Jake.”
Of course for me, my dreams consist of renovating a house somewhere right outside of the city. Having a big, yellow front door with an oversized vintage knocker I bought at some thrift shop. A place with lots of huge trees in the backyard, and a fireplace for when it gets really cold. Ample room for bookshelves. Big windows. Hardwood floors.
There’s a whole picture here. I want to collect Nancy Drew books. I want to build things with my hands. I want to work in a bookstore or maybe, just open a thrift shop. In Portland, that picture includes driving my restored Airsteam to Mount Hood on the weekends, buying craft beer at local breweries, and visiting San Francisco for extended weekends.
I could make homemade pitas with Sarah (she made them today, they were delicious) until we’re old and gray.
At the end of the Cleveland episode, Liz stays in New York. Despite Cleveland’s appeal, her boss Jack points out, “We’d all like to flee to the Cleve, Lemon.”
Basically, we’d all like something seemingly perfect, an ideal place, that will complete our lives and solve all of our problems. That’s why change can occasionally be deceiving – sudden change can feel like progress. Sometimes, (not always), we feel empowered to make a sudden change because we all want that picture perfect existence. However, quite often, that life doesn’t manifest itself until we’re ready for it.
And as I’m sure you can guess, I’m not ready for it yet. I’m not done exploring – the world and my ambitions. Places like Argentina and Greece are waiting to see me, stories are waiting to be written, and I still need to decide whether or not this relationship with my bangs is going anywhere.
Still, I’d look so cool riding my mint Trek cruiser riding down Powell.
Perhaps someday.