Instead of writing a long winded recap regarding our first ever trip to Portland Oregon. I thought it might be better to just refer to some of the images taken over our two day stay. Since moving to Seattle in June of 2017, there has been no shortage of things to do. From our trips to the mountains, beaches, island hopping, drives to Tacoma and Olympia. As well as our future plans to visit Vancouver, Canada and Alaska. We’ve definitely made the most of our time in the great northwest. We both loved our visit to Portland. Leaving our car in the hotel garage was a great choice. We really enjoyed walking and burning some of the calories we amassed at the hotels breakfast and the bacon donuts we picked up at Voodoo Donuts. Though we often credit ourselves anti-tourist. It’s probably easy to say, we probably stood out like sour thumbs on a hand model.
The images below were taken along Mississippi Ave. in the less tourist driven area of Portland. We really enjoyed spending much of out Sunday strolling around the neighborhood. Along the way, we stopped for ice cream and ice coffee before our final stop at Mississippi Records. Now I can happily join my friends when they say how much they love Portland.
Earlier today I took a short, yet rewarding trip to Gas Works Park . As I entered, the early afternoon sun was almost blinding (Definitely not the best time of day for taking picture.) Just ahead of me was a large hill where a number of families were enjoying one of the most beautiful days Seattle had seen in months. The sight of a Father and son flying a kite refreshed a moment from my childhood that, though I may not have recalled in more then thirty five years, had a profound effect on me and my respect for my Mother.
Now, I haven’t flown a kite since I was around ten. However, something about what I was suddenly paying close attention to brought back a very important day in my life. I remember it being Mother’s Day and my Mom wasn’t too happy about spending the day with her highly dysfunctional in laws in Corona, Queens. So, instead of spending the day cooped up with Ella, Al and the rest of mentally challenged. She excused herself and me escaping to nearby Flushing Meadow Park where we were able to clear our minds, enjoy the fresh Flushing air and learn to fly a kite. Picture, if you will an uncoordinated Mother and her clumsy son not only trying to get that just purchased kite in the air, but trying to keep it there and look as if we had even the slightest idea what we were doing. I can assure you, it was not a pretty site. Regardless, we had a lot of fun.
And though we tend to look back on that short, yet agonizing time and the negative hold it had on our lives. There were still many little moments that are still worth looking back on. Ones that brought us closer together, made us stronger and still make us laugh so many years later. I’m grateful to have so many stories and memories to share with her. Proud to say that with all the things we’ve been through. We can still enjoy one anothers silliness. Thank you Mom. Thank you for making me the man I am today and the man I hope to be in the future. Happy Mother’s Day. Love, your son.
Following a hearty breakfast that included Johnny Cakes, bacon, eggs and bottomless cups of freshly brewed coffee. We decided to stay close to home to explore nearby Washington Lake. With most of our recent weekends being rain soaked affairs that allow us the excuse to take a good book and the computer to the local coffee house. The sun drenched ones are rare in these parts and therefore wasteful to take for granted. So with our late start and lack of serious plans accepted. We decided to stay close, take it easy and take advantage of what our immediate area had to offer. It goes without saying that some of life’s greatest pleasures can be found right under our noses. Whether it be short walk to your backyard. The hammock on your porch or the lake that lies just five minutes from the place you call home. Sometimes, small steps and short trips can be as and even more rewarding than the bigger ones. As my Dad would say, “Take it Ease.”
I’m lucky enough to have a Mom and a Dad who are both healthy and alive. And while I seldom give my Mother a break about her considerably bad taste in music. Both have played a major part in influencing and supporting my never ending obsession for so long. While I’ve learned to avoid conversations about religion, politics or any sociological topics. A good bull session about music is a great way to pass the time while helping to avoid any bloodletting during any visit or phone call. Though his love of the blues and New Orleans jazz can never be questioned. A conversation regarding Tom Waits, Frank Zappa or the Night Tripper, Dr. John (Gris-Gris) can go on for days. Some of my earliest memories revolve around sitting among my parents combined record collections. Strange how it remains one of the very few memories of my parents being together. Sitting within a pile of my parents record collection. No more than four, maybe five years old. Completely freaked out by the cover art of records like Leon Russell’s “Stop All That Jazz” Frank Zappa’s “200 Motels” or Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here”. Album covers that told stories I might not be quite ready to read. One’s that might have me checking the closet or under the bed that night. A few years later, as my ear for music began to form. My Dad would sit me down and play Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton’s Blues Breakers, and for me, the most painful torture a nine year old can suffer, Frank Zappa’s 79′ release “Joe’s Garage.” Years later though, many of the records and artists my parents introduced me to reside in my own record collection. Artists such as Frank Zappa, Hendrix and especially Tom Waits get countless play on the turntable and all my other modes of music enjoyment. I pick up just about every Leon Russell and Frank Zappa I see and being drawn to record based on it’s cover art remains crucial to many of my crate digging adventures. Still, I can recall sitting in my pajamas among those piles of records, How each cover either told a story or inspired me to create one,
As I was going through years of medical records that included but were not limited to CAT Scans, M.R.I.’s, and visits to the emergency room. I began to feel overwhelmed and somewhat depressed. While I understand that medical, W-2’s and tax returns don’t tell the true story of the lives we’ve lived and led. Seeing much of your experiences and struggles on tax return or hospital discharge can be quite the mind fuck. So when I found this envelope resting within years of hundreds of files deemed “important”. It was the life preserver that kept me afloat emotionally. While I often beat my chest about my disdain for living in the past and preserving memories by constantly reliving them. I am quite an archivist.
I have a couple of books filled with everything from published articles to concert ticket stubs to notes passed to me in the eighth grade from my first big crush. My decision to keep or discard often come down to how these things made me feel originally or their importance to a specific time or experience. For christ’s sake, I still have the hollow point bullet my Dad gave me when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure there was a life lesson attached, but for the life of me. Neither myself nor my Father can remember. In no way am I a hoarder. I’m quite neat and organized. Often taking time to purge the less important things. Still, I’m often amazed by the amount of moments I’ve managed to save.
Some of my earliest memories of baseball involve the Major League Baseball’s 1977 expansion that brought us the Toronto Blu4 Jays and the Seattle Mariners. Though it would be another three years before the Great American Pastime would take hold of my imagination. It served as a gateway drug to what would become a lifetime obsession.
Just as I recall those dark day that plagued the Mariners in the late 70’s and much of the 80’s. I can also look to the hope that came when the NY Yankees sent a young outfielder by the name of Jay Buhner west. The hope the 90’s brought with players like Ken Griffey JR., Edgar Martinez, Tino Martinez, Randy Johnson and Alex Rodriguez.
I was in Japan when Ichiro Suzuki played his first games for The Mariners in 2001. Getting to see his first games, at bats and center field wizardry from his place of birth was, to say the very least, outer worldly. Still after more than forty years of existence. The Seattle Mariners continuously sport the ugliest uniforms in all of baseball while never appearing in a world series. Not even the 2001 team that won 116 games.
Regardless, the fans here are great and I really enjoyed the games I attended in 2017. Getting to know the players names while getting a feel for the stadium. As the 2018 season has just opened. I’m already watching the schedule to buy tickets when the Mets and Yankees come to town. Just as I enjoyed growing up in the shadow of Shea Stadium as a kid. I feel very lucky to be living just a short drive from Safeco Field and the Seattle Mariners. GO Team.