The number of pictures we took are flat out overwhelming. I creep out of bed and away from news with my coffee in hand to see what mess we hath wrought. I only interrupt working with the jpg’s to call my kids and call those kind folks who were keeping an eye on the place to say we are home and intact. Then it’s back to playing with images and not thinking. For some reason we are both sideways in the world. He’s silent. Perhaps because he is still moving. I’m not at all myself, or perhaps I am more myself just showing the bad parts.
In Portland, what a lovely area for two kindred spirits to live, we were able to get up without pressure that last morning, munch on the free food at Hampton Inn, check the luggage at the train station, get the car back to the RAC facility, and slowly wander our way through the heart of the city back to the station. Not at all a restored heart either. Here a government building, and there a long narrow park filled with kids. Here too, a tall brick office building balanced by another granite government building. It was with great pleasure we saw the beginnings of a trolley system that ties in with the train depot and the bus depot. Then we had a ball documenting the train station.
We do that. Train stations seem to fascinate both of us. The Portland station has been restored. G was very brave venturing out and about into places I stayed away from at this 1895 Northern Pacific Terminal. Some historians call this Italianate, but it is a mixture of Romanesque with dashes of Italian Stick mixed with the stucco and rock. Wikipedia tells us that, “In 1987 ownership of the station and surrounding land was transferred to the Portland Development Commission…( from the Burlington Northern Railway)… as part of the Downtown/Waterfront urban renewal district. Shortly afterwards, Union Station underwent a renovation. It was rededicated in 1996.”
Duck: It appears that he has two first cousins….one who phoned us while we were gone. We wrote her a year ago, and she has finally responded after calling the Salvation Army to get our number. G phoned her back, and we have begun a correspondence. Duck was, as we thought, a brilliant interior decorator who was rich, handsome, and well educated. “He had the world in his hands,” she said, “before he moved down to Mexico.” She knew he was in AA.
Me: Ate unknown foods for eight days with no difficulties. Imagine. Home again and beginning to sort pictures. Napped in the tub then after dinner and grocery shopping, I uploaded pictures. I can do that.
G: He seems to be longing for unmoving quiet and has stayed with a computer game from the moment we woke. He says the world is still moving around him.