Where did your Christmas tree come from?

I don't know where yours came from, but mine came from across the street. There's a small tree farm over there, and every year this little sign appears along the road.

If you walk or drive up the road, you'll pass the farm - a patch of about 1/2 acre of lovely trees, ranging from tabletop size to over 6', each one perfectly manicured to be shaped like, well, a Christmas tree.

Which to you prefer? The Grand, which is the dark green fluffy branched tree, or the Noble, which is the lighter green tree with short, thick needles with lots of space between the branches. Walk through the trees and take your pick.

Once you've decided on the perfect tree, Gary will come with his chainsaw and cut it for you. He's the one who labors and fusses over the trees. You can see him out in August, trimming and shaping each and every one.

Or, if you'd rather, you can bring your own saw and do it yourself. It takes about 45 seconds to cut a tree that took 8 years to grow. Then, if you are lucky, all you need to do is get someone to take the other end, and together you walk it down the road, across the street, and your tree is home for the holidays.

Now, if you live in the big city, you may want to make sure you are sitting down before you read this next bit, because it will shock you. Are you ready? Okay. Guess what the 6' Noble fir cost?

Twelve.

Dollars.

Not one hundred and twelve dollars, which is what someone I know paid for his city tree.

These trees cost just $12 and it is an simply an honor to have one in your house.

Happy, fun and cute

Happy. That's how it feels. Fun. Cute. That's what it makes you think.

A fellow GroveAtopian came up with this idea and made it into a bumper sticker. Don't you just love it? You probably even want one of your own.

Well you are in luck, because it just so happens you can get one of your own if you click right here.

Put it on your car and see what happens. Discover if you know what it's like to Feel Grove-y. It probably means something different to each of us, and we may not even be able to put it into words, but together, we know what it is.

Our rain is back

Someone said that today. Most would be sad under these conditions, but here in GroveAtopia, the return of rain makes us happy. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Especially now because we just came out of one of the coldest weeks ever. Last week it was 5.

If you are like me, the number 5 is a dollar bill, the age of a kindergartner or an easy number to count by. But last week, here in GroveAtopia, 5 meant degrees. As in 5 degrees. As in really, really cold. Last week, we had someone else's weather, not our own.

Many people think the weather in GroveAtopia, especially in winter, is downright dismal. Rain, rain, rain. Grey, grey, grey. They couldn't handle it they say.

But we can. And we do. And we expect and accept it.

Last week, however, was different. First it was cold. For us, that means below 20. Brrr. But it didn't end there. Day after day it colder and colder.

Then one day it was 5. Pipes froze. No matter what, you could not get warm.

Now let's be clear. This is not our weather. It comes from somewhere else and we don't like it.

But today, finally, it was raining. 50 degrees and raining, big fat raindrops - the kind that sneak up on you and suddenly begin to drop from the heavy clouds in the grey sky - that's what we know. That's what winter is supposed to be.

Those who don't understand why we live here because of the weather, merely see just that. The weather. They see rain, and grey, wet and green. They just don't understand.

We GroveAtopians know better. When we see rain in winter, we see it as "our rain" because we know anything worse really belongs somewhere else.

Someone died

It happens all the time. In fact it happens about every 10 seconds. Someone somewhere dies.

It even happens in GroveAtopia. Judging by the obituaries, it happens about once a day, on average. Maybe not quite that often, but close.

Even though GroveAtopia is a small place, most of the time, when one of us dies, most of us don't know them. But we look at the obituaries anyway because lots of times there is someone there with a familiar last name, and lots of times we know someone who knows them or is related to them. But most of the time, we don't know them personally.

Except this time.

This person died a couple of days ago and it was completely unexpected. About a week ago she told someone she couldn't come to a school field trip because she "felt yucky." She went to the doctor, who put her in the hospital and a week later she was dead. From cancer. That she didn't know she had.

Look at her. She was young. She was pretty. And she had no clue she was sick.

Face it. This is pretty much the nightmare scenario we humans, GroveAtopians or otherwise, fear most. We never think we won't be here to do the next thing and the next thing and the next. Here we are, merrily going about our business, making the usual assumptions that we will be here tomorrow and beyond, planning all the events that fill our days, some banal some not, when suddenly, out of the blue, we feel "funny" and find out it's fatal. Face it. We don't want to face it.

At the service today there was lots of talk about how she is not really gone because she will live on forever in our memories. But can that really be true? Memories are lovely but they are not the person, not at all. Memories do not move forward into the future, nor do they really comfort. Right now, in the fresh aftermath of this death, they only serve to remind us she is not here and won't ever be again.

Among death's many cruelties is its power to deny us the chance to see what happens next. We may believe we will still be here in some sense - perhaps hovering around overseeing everything - but we won't be a part of it. We will be wherever death is and everyone else will be here.

There were lots of mementos from her life. Among the most poignant was the stuff from her desk at work. Her pictures, her little reminders, sayings, her stapler. And there were emails, all sent to her during her brief stay at the hospital, all wishing for the thing that didn't happen; that she get well soon.

You don't even want to know that she had 2 little boys and that she was a supermom in every sense of the word. That means that a whole lot of little children, those who were friends with her sons, as well as their teachers were affected by her death. And of course many many more were touched by this death.

Knowing that, I dare you to click on the title of this post. But be warned. It will take you to a blog her family put together as the outcome unveiled itself in just 7 short days. You have to be really brave to read it.

Lots of people came to the service. That made her family feel good. They said so. Perhaps there is some solace for them knowing she had so many people in her life. But no matter how many people came, and no matter how many kind words were said, one thing remains. She is gone and she is never, ever coming back.

Oh dear

Just look at these headlines. Arson. Burglary. Pornography. Poaching. H1N1. There's even a "Pot Plot." Certainly they must be about some far away big city. Someplace that isn't where we live.

I'm sorry but I have some bad news.

These headlines are all about GroveAtopia. And they all happened in the last month. I know you don't want to believe it, but I'm afraid it's true.

When big city things happen in our small town, it's different than when they happen in the big city. When they happen here, we take it personally.

This is not the kind of personally you might experience in the big city. There, if you take something personally, it's usually because it involves an issue you care passionately about. Perhaps someone has said something that you find either upsetting or inspiring. That passes for personal in the big city.

But here, when you take it personally, it's because it really is. It's because you or someone you know knows the people involved. You have to admit it doesn't get much more personal than that.

And frankly we just aren't used to it. Our newspaper, even the one in the bigger city up the road is not usually filled with this type of news. So when it happens like this, one piece of bad news after another, we actually bother to wonder why. And we bother to ask what we can do to make sure it doesn't happen again.

We do that because in GroveAtopia, making things better actually seems possible. Our community is so closely linked that we think our problems are worth solving because we truly think they can be solved.

Even so, we are hoping we have come to the end of our spate of bad news, because quite honestly we can only take so much of it.

And we will never, ever get used to it.

Raking Rapture

Leaf raking season is well underway here in GroveAtopia and we must all make our peace with this annual chore. Whether you choose a leaf blower or metal or bamboo rake, you know those leaves just cannot stay where they are.

You might like to think they can. After all, won't they decompose by next spring, adding nutrients to the soil below?

In a word, no. That won't happen, but here's what will.

When the leaves finally finish their business and the last one has fluttered to the ground, good luck because you will have to wade ankle deep to your doorstep. And just try to make it through your doorway without at least a few leaves following you indoors.

Then comes the rain. It will transform your leaves into a mushy muck that is sometimes slippery, and sometimes simply sticky. In any case you can bet instead of following you through the door, the leaves will now ride inside on the bottom of your shoes, dropping off whenever and wherever they feel like it. Soon there will be as many leaves indoors as there are outside.

Now let's say you manage to put up with this and insist on seeing the natural approach through. Guess what will await you next spring? Leaves! The exact same leaves that fell the previous Fall. The same leaves you waded through and tracked into the house all winter. Because the sad truth is it takes more than one season for leaves to decompose.

So have I made the case? Do you see why we must rake?

Now when you face your carpet of leaves, you might feel overwhelmed, as if you will never ever get them all raked. But bit by bit, wheelbarrow load by wheelbarrow load you do. If you live in the city, you simply rake them into the street and the city will come and pick them up. If you live in the country, you are on your own.

Some people burn them, others compost them. Others find uses for them in the garden.

So where does the rapture come in?

Well it turns out that once the raking is underway, you realize you are lucky. You are lucky because you are outside, and it is cool and pleasant. The weak sun is there shining and things are green once again. If it wasn't for the falling leaves, you might even think it's spring. The moss is back in full force and the soil is soft. Even the weeds are back.

So if you aren't careful you will find yourself in a rapture of sorts – reveling in the new life that's all around you. Then raking is not a chore at all.

But let's not get carried away. Despite the rapture, I'm still hoping the raking is finally done for this year.

Alone in a room with these guys

What do you think it would be like to be alone in a room with these guys? Yesterday I found myself in just that situation - almost. It was me, a few others, and them.

So who are these people who call themselves SACHP and SHPO?

Well it turns out if you or anyone else wants to nominate anything in Oregon to be listed on the National Register of Historic Places, you have to go into a room with these guys and plead your case. They will have read your nomination weeks before you meet, and you can bet they've gone over it with a fine tooth comb. A few of them may have even visited the place you are nominating.

When it's your turn, you may say a few words, the SHPO staff person will have said a few words, and then you sit silently while the SACHP member chosen to be the lead on your nomination proceeds to offer their assessment. Page by page, line by line, it becomes clear they have read every single word. And you can bet they have suggestions to make it better.

In our case, there were extensive suggestions. So many in fact that our nomination was tabled. That means we have to go back to the drawing board - well not a blank drawing board, but we certainly have a lot of erasures, research and rewriting to do. Then we can try again.

Now I will be honest with you. I do not relish the prospect of going back to the drawing board on our nomination. We've been working on it with varying degrees of intensity over the past 3 years. We will need professional help – again – and we will need money to pay for it.

But I will say this. Despite the fact that the outcome was not at all what I'd hoped for, sitting in a room with these guys, even though they were dissecting our nomination, made me feel good about people.

Why? Because here they were, all alone in this room, charged with an obscure mission that no one but us knew or cared about - and not one corner was cut. Each member of this board did their utmost to fulfill their mission. They could have taken the easy way out - been less than rigorous and no one would have known.

But they weren't. They took their job seriously and did it as though it were the most important thing on earth. And actually, right then and there, it was.

State Advisory Committee on Historic Preservation (SACHP)

(updated 10/13/2009)

Appointed Members

Dr. William Willingham, Chair

Architectural Historian, Portland

Term(s): 5/1/2002 – 4/30/2010

5/1/2006 – 4/30/2010

Mr. John Goodenberger, Co-Chair

Architect, Astoria

Term(s): 5/1/2006 – 4/30/2010

Mr. Robert Hadlow

Industrial Historian, Portland

Term(s): 8/1/2008 – 7/30/2012

Mr. Jeffrey LaLande

Historical Archaeologist, Ashland

Term(s): 12/6/2008 – 12/5/2012

12/6/2004 – 12/5/2008

Mr. David Liberty

Cultural Anthropologist, Hood River

Term(s): 2/1/2009 – 2/2/2013

2/1/2005 – 1/31/2009

10/11/2004 – 1/31/2005

Ms. Judith Rees

Community Historian, Portland

Term(s): 5/1/2006 – 4/30/2010

Ms. Gail Sargent, AIA

Architect, Hermiston

Term(s): 5/10/2008 – 5/9/2012

11/1/2007 – 5/9/2008

*Two positions are currently vacant

State Historic Preservation Office (SHPO)

Ian Johnson - National Register / Survey Coordinator

Cara Kaser - National Register / Survey Coordinator

Roger Roper - OPRD Assistant Director, Heritage Programs/Deputy SHPO

Christine Curran - Associate Deputy SHPO

The end is near!

It's downright apocalyptic what's happening in the garden right now. We've had our first freeze here in GroveAtopia, and although the weather has been exceptionally fine for the past few days, the garden has taken its hit and responded accordingly.

What's left is a Darwinian freak show consisting of only the hardiest survivors and twisted mutations of what was meant to be.

Look at these tomatoes. Despite the death of the foliage, the green ones continue to ripen. In another patch, a bunch of volunteer tomatoes escaped the freeze and are just finishing their bloom. In mid-October. What fools!

In preparing the beds for their winter slumber today I discovered all manner of freakish vegetables. Besides the silly tomatoes still acting as if it were summer, there was broccoli that was oddly twisted and yellow. Gigantic garlic cloves overlooked during the harvest that took place months ago. One last hearty cucumber, misshapen, but still entirely edible. Green beans, as thick as your thumb, nearly as long as your forearm and tough as nails. A single carrot, the texture of rope.

Only the parsley, green onions and lettuce seemed happy and normal.

If it weren't for the freakish malformations left in the garden, you might almost convince yourself it was spring. But one glance upward at the blazing red maples and brilliant yellow walnut tree and you know. This is not the beginning that spring brings.

Clearly the end is near.

Yellow

It has hasn't been that long since I drove down Main St., but when I did early this morning here is what I encountered.

It was the usual Main St. scene, except that sometime over the past day or so the trees all got together and whispered to each other, "it's time" and they all turned yellow.

Now by looking at this picture you might think it was chilly when I took it this morning but it wasn't. It was actually quite warm, and gray and misty. The whole scene was as if a very soft, weightless blanket had alighted upon it. It was downright cozy.

I have been down Main St. a zillion times, but it can still surprise me. The yellow trees were today's surprise. It sounds silly I know, but as I rounded the usual corner, expecting the usual view, I gasped a little when I found this yellow and gray scene instead.

Clearly the autumn fairies are out in full force in GroveAtopia. Each day reveals yet another tree, or group of trees or bushes they have touched with their color wands.

We thought we had grown accustomed to the bursts of color that create the hot brilliance of summer, but suddenly here is autumn. Just a few short weeks ago we never thought it could happen, but now summer pales in comparison.

30 copies and a dozen eggs, please

We are lucky to have a full service print shop here in GroveAtopia. It's not a Kinko's or other chain copy shop. This one is locally owned. We share it with Springfield, where the other shop is located.

But the big shop is here in GroveAtopia and it truly is The Best Little Printhouse in Town. They sell signs, banners, business cards, books, brochures, cookbooks, flyers, door hangers, and regular old copies. And eggs.

What?

Yep. You can walk into the Best Little Printhouse and for $2.50, get a dozen eggs along with your print order. Or you could get 18 eggs for $3.75. It says so right there on the door.

Apparently they do a lively egg business because when I was in there today, they were fresh out of eggs. Someone had just come in and bought several dozen.

Now I don't know about you, but I like it that these two incongruous items co-exist in this store. It doesn't make a bit of sense from a marketing point of view, but that doesn't seem to matter. People come to the Best Little Printhouse in Town to buy their eggs, and I say, why not?

Pretty as a Privy

When new public bathrooms were built in the embattled little Opal Whitely Park, people worried.

Public restrooms are indeed a much needed public work, but making them freely available comes with its own set of worries.

Drugs, odors, sex, filth, graffiti, germs, vandalism. Most of us simply want to go to the bathroom, but some of us see the restrooms as a place to do much more than that.

There are all manner of solutions that attempt to help avoid these and other problems associated with public restrooms. The American Restroom Association has all sorts of advice.

But here in GroveAtopia we had our own solution and I think you will agree it is the kindest of all. To discourage would-be vandals from ruining these public bathrooms, the Art Guild took a few afternoons and painted pretty little pictures all the way around each restroom.

You can only see a few of the pictures in this photo. Each restroom has about 15 pictures, each one bright and unique, each one hand painted by one of several artists.

The restrooms were painted back in June when the Garden Club was busy making the park look pretty. I wrote about it then, but I think you'll agree the real test with a project like this is how it looks months later. I am happy to report that 4 months later, the privy pictures remain untouched.

Painting these pictures in the bathrooms was really a dare. Their pretty little designs, the fish, the bluebird on a fence post, the iris, are more than just that. What they are saying in their quiet, pretty little way is, " Go ahead. I dare you. Deface me. Scrawl your graffitti all over me. I bet, big and tough and defiant as you are you can't bear to harm pretty little me."

How annoying that would be for the person hell bent on saying what they must in this most public way, to encounter this row of quiet beauty and find out they just can't do it. They can't deface this work.

I like to think after the annoyance and perhaps anger has passed, that the would-be vandals have at least a moment of pause where they ask themselves why, and realize they do have a limit and these little pictures have shown them just that. That in the face of human effort and beauty, even the most angry heart, even as the spray can is raised, finger on the button, will lower the can, take the finger off the button, and toss the can in the trash.

It doesn't always happen this way, but it sure is nice when it does.

Sometimes beauty wins.

Pride and protest

What do you think when you see a plaque like this somewhere?    

I don't know about you but I have always thought this plaque was an honor and bestowed a certain amount of prestige on the place the it was hung.  

Well what if you had a chance to live in one of these places, and what if that place was part of a whole neighborhood of others like it?  What if it turned out that not only your house, the very one you live in right now, the one you fell in love with and bought because it and others around it were from a time gone by, qualified for one of these plaques and all that it stands for and all that it entitles you to?  

It would put your house in the same company as the White House, the Statue of Liberty and the Lincoln Memorial.  Wow.

But here in GroveAtopia, the reaction of some to this prospect is exactly the opposite of wow.  I'm not sure what that word is so I looked it up and here are some from which you may choose:  anger, irritate, upset, depress, disappoint, dismay, distress, pain, trouble, displease, offend, repel, repulse, turn off, disenchant, disgust.  Take your pick.

If you are like me you are saying to yourself, "Really?"  There are people who are angered, irritated, upset, depressed, disappointed, dismayed, distressed, pained, troubled, displeased, offended, repelled, repulsed, turned off, disenchanted and/or disgusted by the National Register of Historic Places?

In a word, yes.

I know, I was as flabbergasted as you.

It turns out that some people think that being on the National Register of Historic Places is nothing more than an example of government telling us what we can and can't do with one of our most sacred possessions - our property.

Never mind that we worry endlessly about what our neighbors have or may or may not do to their homes and how it might affect ours.  Thus far we have relied upon hopes and prayers and when they fail us we live with the fallout, although we may grumble.

So if your neighbor, who lives in the farmhouse built in 1905 decides to add a dome shaped second floor, strip off the porch and replace the beautiful curved bay windows, the ones you have admired through your own front window for years and years, there's nothing to be done.  It's your neighbor's right because it's your neighbor's property.

The National Register of Historic Places attempts to help people avoid doing that.  It offers incentives and through tax breaks, freezes and restoration loans to help people maintain the historic qualities of their homes. 

But it turns out some people view that as intrusion.  They would rather we trust in hope and prayer, and should things not turn out well, well that's just how it is.

So you see, some view the National Register as a source of pride, others see it as something to protest.   We don't know how it will all turn out. 

But here's what I do know.  I'd be honored to see my home listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  It would inspire me to do all I could to live up to it.  

So I guess I land on the side of pride.  And you may protest that all you want.

A lot of culture

This is not the first time you've seen a picture of this building.  Way back in March I wrote about it under "Needs a Paint Job."  

Now looking at this picture, you might say yes, it still needs a paint job.  In fact it looks worse than it did in March.  What could have happened to hasten this sad situation?

But this is actually a happy situation because the building is not in fact peeling at an alarmingly fast rate.  Instead, our wish has come true.  The building is being painted.

It's been quite a job.  First there was the money.  The museum, which is housed in the building, needed $15,000 of it.  That's a lot.

But a series of fortunate events came together.  The money effort was jump started by a handsome $5,000 grant from the Oregon Cultural Trust.  Next came $2,500 from our each local foundations, The Faye and Lucille Stewart Foundation and the Woodard Family Foundation.  Both the Stewarts and the Woodards made their money from the lumber industry, but, there being basically no more lumber companies owned by identifiable people in GroveAtopia, neither family is in that business any longer.

But like other timber money families, they have chosen to do good with their earnings, and they have indeed done that.  This paint job is just one small case in point.

The other $5,000 came from museum coffers - a fund based on a major endowment bequeathed to the museum years ago.

So what about the culture part?

Well, as I mentioned, this whole project was jump started by a $5,000 grant from the Oregon Cultural Trust.  And today was Oregon Day of Culture day - sponsored by the Oregon Cultural Trust.   And the museum was open specially this afternoon to help celebrate Oregon Day of Culture day.  

Furthermore, and as fate would have it, the  Lane County Cultural Coalition, the county arm of the Oregon Cultural Trust, has two members from GroveAtopia.  And the Lane County Cultural Coalition  just had an guest column in today's paper.  

So there I was, visiting the museum housed in the building being painted by a grant from the Oregon Cultural Trust, on a day it was open because today was Oregon Day of Culture day sponsored by the Oregon Cultural Trust, having just read an article about culture written by the Lane County Cultural Coalition.

Now that's a lot of culture.

There's no "they" here

It's a common occurrence.  You drive or walk around your town and you notice changes.  Look at the new dress shop downtown.   Suzie's cafe has reopened.  We have a new photography gallery in the old hotel.  Someone is moving in or out of the old travel agency building, the one that was so cleverly painted as a giant suitcase, then sadly painted over, then vacated.

In most places, big places, where change just seems to happen, we always wonder what "they" are doing.  I wonder what they are doing to that building.  Why are they changing that sign?  When are they going to finish paving this street?

But here in GroveAtopia we usually know who "they" are so instead we say, Karen finally opened her dress shop, and Julie and Brinsley's photo gallery is open, and, well, Suzie - but we know this time it's her daughter - has reopened the cafe.  

We don't live under the cloud of uncertainty "they" can sometimes bring.  We know the people, and their stories, so our happenings make sense.   We have context, background and oftentimes personal or second-hand knowledge of the people who are behind the changes we see.

It would be easier if "they" were responsible for everything.  Then we could blame "them" for things we don't like.  But they aren't.  We are "they", as are our friends and neighbors, and their friends and neighbors, who are practically your friends and neighbors because they are theirs.

"They" don't live in GroveAtopia.  We do.  You and I, and those we know and those who know us.  We don't even know who "they" are.  All the "theys" here have names and stories.  That's why when things happen here, whether we agree or disagree, whether it makes us happy or sad, we nearly always understand, because we usually know exactly who "they" are.

Trashing our trail

GroveAtopia has one of the best bike trails in the state.  It's the 15.6 mile Row River Trail.  It starts at the center of town, at Trailhead Park, and runs all the way to past Dorena Reservoir to Culp Creek.

The whole trail is paved and it's flat as a board for a good portion of the route.  Bicycle heaven!  Anyone can enjoy this trail.

The Row River Trail was converted to a bike path under the Rails to Trails program.  The path runs along an abandoned rail line - the one that used to carry the scenic passenger train "The Goose" between Cottage Grove and Disston.  

I've never ridden the entire trail, but I've ridden the portion that runs through town between Safeway and Wal-mart a fair number of times.  That stretch of trail is both lovely and functional.  It provides a safe and tranquil way to get between these to major shopping hubs.

The other day I was riding my favorite stretch - the one where the trail goes into this heavily wooded area just before it crosses Gateway Blvd.   And guess what I saw?  Trash!  Lots and lots of trash.

It is truly sad to think that there are those who care so little for our trail that they treat it like their personal garbage dump.  I doubt those leaving this much trash are cyclists - they don't have the time or right number of hands to toss this much trash and still be riding their bicycle.

I'm guessing the trash is left by people traveling on foot.  And there is no excuse.  There are trash cans along the way and seriously people, how much effort does it take to wait and dump your trash in those instead of on the ground?  Are you so overcome with the urge to toss it that you simply cannot delay?  Must it be tossed right here and now?

The city is responsible for cleaning the part of the trail that runs through town, so technically it is their responsibility to clean this up.

But you and I know whose responsibility it really is.  

So bicycle trail people who drop your trash here, please stop.  Your garbage belongs in the trash can, not on the trail.

A Big, Red, Juicy Competition

The people on the stage in this picture are holding up numbers.  2, 1.5, 2.5, 4, and 3.5.  Clearly they are rating something.

Perhaps it's a beauty contest.  Or a gymnastics meet.  They use numbers when they judge, don't they?

But no.  This competition had nothing to do with beauty or gymnastics.  

No, this competition was about all about tomatoes.  Big, red, juicy tomatoes.

It's called the Great Northwest Tomato Taste-Off and it's part of the yearly Gathering of Gardeners that happens at the Village Green in September.   The winner got $500 and a 2-night stay at the Village Green so this was a competition worth competing in.

This year there were 68 tomatoes entered into the competition.  The judges tasted each and every one of them, and rated them on a scale of 1-5.  It took them about an hour to taste them all.  I wonder if they are "tomatoed-out" by the time they are finished.

There was a tie for 1st place so the judges had to do a tie breaker taste-off.  One more round and the winners were announced.  

Second and third place went to a husband and wife - she won third place for her variety, "Truffle."  He won second place for his variety, "Ernie's Faux."  Both Truffle and Ernie's Faux are seed varieties grown at Territorial Seed Company, right here in GroveAtopia.  They sponsor the Tomato Taste Off.

The winner, whose name is Don, won for a variety called "Hillbilly." His tomato was not grown from seed from these parts.  No, Don had traded for the seed with a friend from Texas.  

So a tomato that came from seed from Texas won the Great Northwest Tomato Taste-Off, but no one seemed to mind.  The winners and their tomatoes still got a hardy round of applause, whether they were from around here or not.   

And it was even better than a beauty contest.

A Proclamation

GroveAtopia's city council meets this next Monday and among other things, including a second reading on an anti-nudity ordinance, (yes you read that correctly) the mayor is being asked to sign a proclamation that proclaims September as American Legion Month.  

That seems like a lovely idea, now doesn't it?  

GroveAtopia is fortunate to have a very active American Legion post.  Ours is Post 3473, and there is just no way to not know they are here.  

First, there is the building itself.  It's here on the west side of town, right there on Main Street next to the Sunshine General Store - our own natural food store that since 1976 has always, always been there, despite the comings and goings of other bigger, natural food stores.  Until very recently the American Legion building was a nondescript - dare I say it? - ugly building.

Then suddenly a few weeks ago someone started painting the side of the building, and it quickly became apparent that this was not a tagging activity.  Someone was painting something big, very big on the exterior walls of the American Legion building.  Day by day, detail by detail, the image emerged.

We also know the Legion for being the ones who make sure GroveAtopians do not forget the services of veterans.  They arrange the flags that appear up and down Main Street on Memorial Day and Veteran's Day.  They conduct the ceremonies that honor the military, veterans and their service to our country.  They don't let us forget and we shouldn't.

And they have the Tuesday night spaghetti feed, and the indoor garage sale, and see to it that the scholarships are given out.  We love the American Legion.

So then, let's approve their proclamation and get on with things.

But wait, let's read the proclamation first.  Oh dear, we can't.  It isn't on the city's website.  So we rely on our friends to let us know what the proclamation says.  Then we look it up and find that we are not the only ones who have been asked to approve such a proclamation.  Many, many cities in Oregon have been asked to do the same.  And by the looks of things they have gone ahead and signed the proclamation.  

I wonder if they read it?  I bet they did, but I also bet they were the only ones.  If their constituents had read it, things might not have gone so smoothly.

Here in GroveAtopia we tend to read these things, and when we read this proclamation we saw something that simply doesn't belong in a proclamation.

If I recall correctly, the last proclamation signed by the mayor declared September 28th to be Family Day - a day to eat dinner as a family.  Who could argue with that?

Proclamations run from serious to silly, but they rarely deal with items of real substance.  So one would think the proclamation declaring September to be American Legion Month would be the same.  And by and large it is.  

The one we are being asked to consider has lots of wheras's - 7 to be exact.  The first 4 are merely statements of fact, as are the last two.  It's the 5th whereas, that, while a statement of fact, the fact it states involves more than a recitation of the group's accomplishments.  Instead it tells us that the American Legion "continues to work for a constitutional amendment to protect the American flag from desecration..." 

That's a fact, but signing this proclamation says we agree with all the whereas's it contains.  And we do, except for that one.

The right to desecrate our flag is protected by the 1st amendment of very Constitution our flag represents.  To use the flag to limit the freedoms that the flag itself represents defeats the very freedoms the flag stands for.

So should our council simply pass this proclamation and have the mayor sign it, thereby throwing the support of the citizens of GroveAtopia behind this constitutional amendment?  Of course not.  We should sign the proclamation, but without that particular whereas.

Guess what the painting on the side of the American Legion building turned out to be?  A huge, beautiful American flag.  The kind with golden fringe.  It doesn't show the stars, but the stripes are so huge and billowing you don't need the stars.  You know just what it is.   And it's enough for all of us to know how the American Legion feels about our flag.  But the great freedom of our country is that we don't all have to feel the same way.   

American Legion, we know you love the flag.  We love the flag too.  We love your flag.  But don't make everyone feel the same way you do.  Don't make us proclaim our support for your feelings about what the constitution should say about how we must treat our flag.  Let us each go our own way in this matter, because to do that is to truly support our flag.

Just another day in GroveAtopia

I had some errands to do today and the weather was ideal, so I rode my bike into town.  Pedaling down the road, the air was clear, clean and fresh, the sun was warm but not hot, with just a hint of autumn in the air.  Just a hint mind you.  It was 75 degrees, so I'm not talking about the autumn chill.  I'm talking about the hint of autumn.  That's different than the autumn chill.  

I had to go to the post office, then the middle school, then the print shop.  These errands were connected by various events in my personal and community life.  The coupons we promised the garden tour survey respondents had to be mailed out, the certificates of appreciation for work done on Stewart Park needed to be mailed and delivered, my son needed to be registered for 8th grade at the middle school, and I had to pick up the door hangers for a block party I was helping to organize.

But as I rode my way toward these separate destinations, pedaling down Main Street, there, I saw Julie and Brinsley had at last opened their photography gallery and studio in the Cottage Grove Hotel, and thought about stopping by.  But first things, first.  I rode on toward the post office.

I passed Rally, Cottage Grove's Coffee Connesieurs.  They are new in town, but their coffee is freshly roasted and their drinks are devine.  We hope they are successful here in our little town, where we already have 3 other privately owned drive-thru coffee houses.   

While at the post office, I was there when there was basically no line - just 2 people in front of me.  One of the happiest sights in my day is if there is no line at the post office.  If we lived in the big city, we could never expect that.  But here it happens often enough to hope for.

Just past the post office and across the bike path is the Public Works department.  I had a few certificates to leave with them so I rode on over.  No one was at the front desk so I left Melissa a note and explained what I was doing.

Now, over to the middle school where the secretaries were harried but friendly.   One had made sure my son had the schedule he wanted.  The other took the time to tell me how great my youngest son's new teacher was, because she had known her since she was a little girl.

Riding back to the print shop, I found that Kurt had once again given us a big discount on our order and made our print job look better than we imagined.

Riding home past the church, there was the car of my friend who teaches the classics at the Ace Charter School, parked in the lot.  Another school year has begun.

Across the street at the library, look!  There is another friend's car!  I'll stop and go in and look for her.  I was astonished when I didn't find her inside, but took the opportunity to get a book on horses for my son who is just learning to ride.

Outside, while I loaded my bike basket with books and other loot from my trip, a man on a bike pulled up behind me.  A joke he said.  Would I like to hear a joke?  He told me two, and to tell you the truth, I didn't think either of them was funny.  But that wasn't the point.

The point is that in GroveAtopia, you aren't scared when a stranger pedals up to you and tells you a joke.  You don't worry if they are crazy and going to hurt you.  They might be crazy, but they definitely will not hurt you.  Chances are they are just being friendly.  

That's because in GroveAtopia it's people that count.  You carry their stories in your head as you pass through town.  The house over there that has recently been painted.  Your friend knows who lives there and why they are now suddenly able to fix the place up.  

The house on the corner of N and Main is an absolute mess, yet you know the man who lives there and he will be building your cabinets.  The American Legion Hall sure has a lovely new mural painted on its side.  It may be a bit heavy on the flag, but it looks so much better than it did, no one minds.

These are the thoughts you have and the people that go with them as you ride through town.  Someone once said to me, our town doesn't look like much, unless you know the people who live there.

I have to agree.  After living in GroveAtopia as long as I have, I can no longer separate the two.  The people are our town.  Without them and their stories, GroveAtopia is just another place.  Those of you who pass through looking for what our town is may very well miss it.  You will merely see buildings and businesses.  

What GroveAtopians see is people, their stories and their lives..

Machine guns in my Radio Mail

Well here we are again, talking about machine guns in GroveAtopia.  We've done it before, starting way back in March.   That's when we first unveiled the fact that lovely GroveAtopia sports a machine gun shop on Main Street.

Now we all know gun shops are pretty common. Any town can have one.   Heck, you can buy a gun in Bi-Mart.  

But a machine gun.  Now that is quite a different matter.  I'll bet most of you, even those of you who've lived in the big city all your lives have never seen a machine gun shop.

But here in GroveAtopia, we see one every day.  It's so much a part of the scenery of Main Street, that usually we don't even notice it.  

Our children, when they are babies, don't notice it, but we see it slowly unveiled to them as they grow, then perhaps notice the barred windows and ask why, then a little while later, when they can read,  they ask entirely different why.  

So for those moments, we adults again notice that our Main Street has a machine gun shop.  We answer our children's questions as best we can, silently knowing that even though the Constitution says it's okay, it's still Just Not Right. So we wait, until the storefront once again fades into the background.

But then, suddenly out of the blue, there is another reminder.  

Radio Mail is Coming!  Radio Mail is Coming!  

Anyone who listens to KNND has heard this ad.  Radio Mail is a coupon book that is mailed to every home in GroveAtopia by the radio station.  It contains coupons from our local businesses.  If you use the coupon you get to enter into a drawing for a fun prize.

Year after year, the usuals are in the Radio Mail coupon book.  Shoestrings, the shoe store on Main Street, Cosmos Cafe, the latest restaurant in the old Coffee Grove building, and many many others.

But this year, Radio Mail had a new coupon.  It's from West Coast Machine Guns, our very own Main Street machine gun shop.  If you take your Radio Mail coupon into West Coast Machine Guns, they'll give you 1/2 off a second box of ammo, or $20 off any purchase of $150 or more.

Normally the prospect of a "cents off" coupon is exciting.  Who doesn't like to save a bit of money?

But face it.  This is different.  You shouldn't save a bit of money when you are purchasing a machine gun.  It should always, always cost at least full price.  And so should the ammo.

I don't like the prospect of someone who is a bit short, needing to use a coupon to finally, finally get that machine gun they've been, what, wanting?? needing??? saving up for??? Why???

I want it to be hard to get a machine gun.  And one way to make it hard is to make sure that a machine gun costs every single cent of its price because you and I know there is no good reason to need, want or have a machine gun in GroveAtopia.

Our fair

Summer in Oregon means fairs.  We have 36 counties and and 37 fairs.  The extra one is the Oregon State Fair which is not a county fair at all.  Still, you could go to different fair every week from May through September if you wanted to. 

But if you did that, chances are you would not see our fair.  That's because ours is not the 38th fair.  It doesn't even register on the list of fairs because it's not a county fair.  But it's a fair nonetheless.  

It's called the Western Oregon Exposition and it's been happening here in GroveAtopia for 77 years.  

I went today and it's basically the same as it was when I first went 4 years ago.  And I'll bet it's basically the same as it was 4 years prior to that and 4 years prior to that and even 44 years prior to that.   

It's got all the elements of the bigger county fairs.  There are competitions for the best vegetables, fruit, flowers, photographs, crafts, and animals.  There is music.  And a midway.  And rides.  Everything you need for a fair.

But there are some important differences between our fair and the others, besides just size.  Their fairs cost $5 or $8 or more just to get in the gate.  Then the rides cost, well face it you don't really know what they cost because the ticket system is so complex it's basically impossible to figure out how much you just spent to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl.  And the food.  You know it's just not right to pay $2.50 for a snow cone, but you do it anyway because it's the fair.  But that's their fair.

This year our fair had an admission price for the first time in several years.  It was a whopping $1.00 for adults, $0.50 for children, or free if you brought a can of food. 

Our midway is different too.  Instead of trying to get you to pay money that you will likely lose and tempting you with the possibility, however remote, of winning one of those oversized stuffed animals, our midway makes sure you win.  Every kid wins, every time.  There's no oversized stuffed animals, but there is a respectable variety of prizes donated by Bi-Mart.  And like I said, every kid wins something.

The games themselves are different too.  They are home made, but just as fun as the ones at the more expensive fairs.  

Who wouldn't like to have a go at the catapult made from rubber hospital tubing and a medical funnel that's normally used for who knows what, to try to splat the water balloon against the wall?  That's way more fun than trying to pitch dime after dime into the hopelessly shallow dish or the glass that's got a hopelessly small opening.  And you can bet our kids will get plenty of tries to make sure they do break that balloon.

Some people worry about the WOE Family Fair.  Do enough people go?  Who makes sure the entries are judged properly?  Who makes sure there are enough entries?   Can it compete with its bigger brethren?  

I say worry not.  There is no need to compete with the bigger guys.  They are a completely different animal.  They have more, but they cost more.  Ours has less, and costs less, but it has something they don't have, it has us.  

It's organized by your neighbor, your friend is playing music, your child's friend's mother is serving food at the Dorena Grange burger stand.  And look there's your mom's friend, who is older than your mom, dancing with her husband, right there in front of everyone, as if they are the only couple on the dance floor.  And they are.

So put your worries aside, and make sure you come to GroveAtopia's WOE Family Fair.  You'll know it's ours as soon as you walk through the gate. 

Radio GroveAtopia style

We really do have it all in GroveAtopia.  We even have our own radio station.

Our station is KNND and when you are in GroveAtopia, you'll find it at 1400 on your AM dial.  Even that statement is something out of the past.  In the age of Sirus and satellite radio, podcasting and Pandora, a good old fashioned local AM radio station seems just that.  Old fashioned.  But good.

Ours has a lively collection of locally produced shows that run in the morning.  It starts at 7:00 AM when Paul begins our days with a Rockin' Oldies show.  He hand selects the tunes - with no regard to conventional radio play lists.  These are just his own selections, and you can tell.  Usually they are songs you know when you hear, but really you never hear them.  They don't conform to any one format.  They conform to whatever is on Paul's mind that day.

Then, at 8:30 comes the Beeper.  This is our local call in talk show.  It lasts an hour and if you want to get an idea of what GroveAtopians are thinking, listen for a few days.  

You will hear the regulars, Hal and Herb, who are on opposite sides of the spectrum.  They call in every day and if they don't you start to worry about them.  Then there is Pat, the former city councilman who retired last year.  His comments always harken back to "the old days" when things were oh so different than they are today.

If you want to promote an event, you can be a guest on the Beeper.  Paul will give you ample time to talk about your group, your event, your project, whatever it is.  He is a gracious interviewer and even though you might be nervous about going on the air, afterward you wonder why you were.

During the school year, once a month you can hear from students, teachers and principals from our schools.  They come and talk about new programs, perform on the air and generally provide a thrill for the parents of the kids who are on the air.

Mondays are for politics and we regularly hear from our City Manager, County Commissioner and state representative.  This is your chance to call them and talk to them on the radio.  If you are too shy to do that you can drive downtown and wait for them to finish on the radio and ask them your question as they come out of the station.

No mention of KNND would be complete without a mention of Swap-N-Shop.  Every weekday morning at 10:00, Monday through Saturday you can call in and buy, sell or swap any items you want as long as they don't total more than $200.   This is the most popular show on KNND and if you ever wondered if anyone is listening to KNND,  Swap-N-Shop will disavow you of any of those worries. 

There are other shows as well.  The horse show.  The Polka show.  The religion show.  The Friday night rock-n-roll show.   The garden show.  The Classic Country and Western show.  The Wednesday afternoon dedication show.  The blue grass show.  The rest of the time you can hear the True Oldies Channel on KNND.  

I wonder how many towns that have 9,245 people  have their own radio station?  Probably not many.  

KNND is from another era.  It's old fashioned, but it's ours and we love it.  And I never want to see it go.

Call on her! She has a good idea!

Mr. DeFazio, GroveAtopia's representative to Congress, was here the other day to talk to us about health care reform.  

The plan was for him to meet with us in the community center and help us all talk about the current proposal to offer a so-called "public option" to people who do not have health insurance and to those for whom the public option is a better deal than the private option they may have.  It was called a Town Hall meeting.

Mr. DeFazio has held hundreds of town hall meetings during the years that he has been our representative, but this one was different.  

Lately the country has been attempting to find its way with regard to changing health care insurance - or as my husband calls it, medical care insurance.  He feels the distinction is important.  

And face it, everyone thinks there's something important about this effort.  Some think the important thing is not to undertake it at all.  Others think we must undertake a more aggressive effort.  And there is every opinion in between.  We've heard them all.

Or have we?

When Mr. DeFazio was here, people wondered if there would be shouting, yelling and rudeness that would keep others from expressing their views and asking their questions.  We have heard about this happening in other places.  Nearly 400 GroveAtopians showed up to find out.

In fact so many showed up that the whole meeting had to be moved outside at the last minute. So there was our congressman, wearing the hat loaned to him by GroveAtopia's Community Services Director, standing outside in the bright morning sun literally surrounded by his constituents, many of whom were eagerly raising their hand in hopes of being able to ask their questions.  

I saw the whole event on raw video footage taken from behind where Mr. DeFazio was standing and as the camera panned across the crowd, every time the woman in the picture I posted, who was wearing a bright red shirt, had her hand up, but she was never called on.  We would never know what she was going to ask.

Or would we?  

This being GroveAtopia, were rather than 6 degrees of separation between everyone, there is about a half a degree, I got a chance to find out what she was going to ask, because I saw her today at my favorite little natural foods market.   She only works there one or two days a week, but today happened to be one of them so she was there when I went in to pick up some fruit, bread and salsa.

"He never called on you," I said to her.  

"Yeah and I had a really great suggestion," she said.

Of course I had to ask her what it was and here it is.

What if we started putting everyone on Medicare, adding them year by year going backwards for the next 40 years until everyone from age 25 and up would be covered?  So next year everyone who is 64 would be eligible for Medicare, the following year everyone 63 and so on.  In 40 years everyone over 25 would be on Medicare.  

This slow pace would allow the Medicare system to adjust to new members, and to forecast how many to expect.  It would also allow the private insurance companies to adjust to the new, but slowly and predictably evolving health care market.  I guess I would go one step further and make this the "public option."  It would be just one of the choices.

Now whether you think this is a good idea or not, you have to admit it is novel, without being whack-o or totally unfeasible.  I certainly haven't heard anything remotely resembling this idea being talked about, and unless you have talked to Katie lately, it's highly likely that you haven't either.

If only Mr. DeFazio had called on her.  Then we all could have heard her good idea.   But that was not to be.   

Well at least you get to hear about it here.

For the Record

I had a comment on one of the posts here and that never happens.  The only readers I know of are my parents, my husband and a very few others who look in occasionally.  And the only other comment has been from my mother.

So imagine my surprise when Anonymous posted a comment.  Anonymous' concern was that I moderate the comments, that is, I see them and decide if I should allow them to be viewed by others.  Anonymous wondered if I was screening comments because I did not want to publish comments that didn't agree with me.  Anonymous saw this as a freedom of speech issue.

I responded to Anonymous in the comments - and I did publish  Anonymous' comments - but I thought I'd just come out and say this here and now.  I screen the comments because I don't want this little blog to get trashed by bots and other internet automatons that can post spam, ads, obscenities and all manner of other communications that simply do not belong in GroveAtopia.

So to Anonymous I say this.  Thank you for commenting.  Thank you for reading this little blog.   Thank you for your concerns.  Thank you for raising this issue.  And thank you for allowing me to explain.  I hope you and anyone who reads GroveAtopia understands.

Honesty

I saw honesty today in the Safeway parking lot.  It was right there in front of me.

I was getting into my own car after having done my shopping when I heard a loud crunching noise.  It was that distinctive sound of one car crunching another.  

There is nothing like it so I won't bother with metaphors or similies or any other literary attempt to describe what I heard.  It was the sound of one car hitting another.  If you've heard it, you know there's no way to describe it other than saying what it was.

I looked up and saw the truck on the left had backed out of its parking space and hit bumper of the red car on the right.  Crunch.  Okay, I could not resist trying to describe it.

But here came the moment; the seconds in which a person can decide to do the right, but bothersome thing, or do the wrong, but easy thing.   

How would the driver of the truck handle the situation?   Would he drive away, leaving the red car driver to wonder, "where did that come from?" when next she noticed her rear bumper? Perhaps she would even see the dent as she approached her car with her shopping cart, or maybe she wouldn't notice it for days and days.  Who's to day how closely another looks at their car?   There are simply too many variables.

So what would the truck driver do?  Would he take the hard and right way or the easy and wrong way?  I went to get an ice cream at the Pink House.

When I returned here is what I saw.  The man who drove the truck was sitting in it writing a note to the owner of the red car, presumably explaining what happened.   Good.  He was doing the right, but hard thing.

But wait!  Here comes the owner of the red car!  The truck driver got out and appeared to be explaining the situation to her.  The next thing I knew, the truck driver was driving away and the red car driver was in her car ready to go, but only after looking closely at the damage to her bumper, rubbing it a few times, then pulling out of her parking space and driving on to her next destination.

So here was honesty, right in front of me.  The truck driver could have driven away, and no one would be the wiser.  But he didn't.  He stayed and took responsibility for what had happened.   He took the time - which turned out to be considerable - to tell his story and make sure he took responsibility for what he had done, even though it was an accident.

In the scope of parking lots incidents, this one was minor, but in the scope of life itself, you know as well as I that we are glad things turned out the way they did.

Nothing but garbage

Many months ago, way back in March when we were just getting started, I told you about the mystery boxes.  They were two cardboard boxes that had been in the portico of the beautiful old bank building on the corner of 6th and Main St for at least 2 years.  

With only two there, and the same two at that, it was indeed an intriguing mystery.  But now, I'm sorry to say, the mystery, which was fun to think about, has become a tragedy.  The mystery is now nothing but garbage.

Take a look for yourself.  Together let's consider what we have here.  Let's examine the evidence and fashion a story of our own.

First, we start with the boxes.  A quick look at the security door, lovely as it is compared to most security doors, tells us that the boxes must have been placed where they are from the door beyond.  And because of that, they must have been placed there deliberately.  

So now, we must conclude, as unfathomable as it is, someone has deliberately placed even more boxes here.  Apparently two boxes was not enough. The two that were already there were so attractive, someone thought we needed even more.  

Since March, when we first discussed this matter, I found out that there actually is an attorney, as the sign painted on the window around the corner says,  who works in this building.  During Art Walk in June, I was musing about the origins of the boxes with the ladies who work in Past 45 and one of them told me that indeed someone did still work in there and I should just go in the side door and tell him to clean it up.

So, the following Monday I tried to do just that, but the door was locked, and no one ever answered.  Our hopes for solving the mysteries behind those two boxes were gone for the moment.

I'm sorry to have to tell you that I have not tried again.  But you can see as clearly as I that now the situation out of control.  Not only have the two mystery boxes gained numerous friends, the increase in their numbers has enticed others to add to the sad situation by adding garbage to the scene.  Look at those bottles.  Now people think it's okay to toss their garbage here.  

And judging by the past, that garbage will not only remain there for many years to come, it will attract others of its kind.  Imagine, if this situation is allowed to persist, what this scene will look like in a few months or a few years.  You don't want to, and neither do I.

So I will do what I can to find out who keeps adding those boxes and why.  Then I will make sure it's cleaned up.  And when this happens, you will be the first to know.

Friend or foe?

Go ahead and admit it.  If you saw something like this coming down the road toward you, you would be afraid.  But intrigued.  Which reaction would you heed?  

I had to decide the other day when I looked up and saw this thing coming down Row River Road while I was at Territorial Seed.

Yikes!  What is it?  I wanted to know.  Would it come my way so I could confirm to myself that I was really seeing this?  If it passed on by, I would never find words convincing enough to get others to believe what I saw.

Besides it looked a little too much like an alien transport machine of some sort and I wasn't entirely sure who or what would emerge from it.  

And then it made the left onto Palmer, and the next right into the Territorial Seed parking lot and parked right next to me.  I had no choice but to talk to it, or him, or her, or whatever or whomever emerged.

The lid lifted and sitting down in there was Taylor.  He was just a regular guy -  not an alien at all.   See?

He makes these things.  Right here in GroveAtopia.

It's called a velomobile and if you are like me, you had never heard that word so you looked it up.  

Turns out velomobiles have been around a long, long time and they are waiting,  just waiting for their time in history.  It hasn't come yet, but who knows beforehand when history has come?  No one does, until the idea catches on for long enough to become history.  Then we ask ourselves why we didn't see it coming.

So the idea behind velomobiles is to combine the efficiency of a bicycle with the protection of a car.  They aren't cheap, since they are built to order, but you know as well as I that something like this would be perfect for GroveAtopia.   

If we all used velomobiles to get around, we could reduce noise and pollution and all become more physically fit.  GroveAtopia is just the right size.  Four square miles of mostly flat terrain.  We even have bike lanes.

But that is a question.  Do velomobiles rightly belong in the bike lanes, or car lanes?  This one approached as if it was a car.  But it didn't have a license plate, nor did it require a drivers license.

I don't suggest you buy a velomobile right now.  I do however, encourage you to look at the Velocity Velo website and become familiar with this way of getting around.  When gas returns to $4.00 or more a gallon, the velomobile may turn out to be history's best option.

I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles

Everyone loves a view.  A vista.  A perspective of a familiar scene from a different point of view - usually higher than where you are used to seeing things from.

This is the Astoria Column.  The name says it all.  It's in Astoria, and it's a column.  So how can a column be interesting?  Especially one that is not holding anything up?   One that is just standing there, all alone in the middle of a patch of grass, doing nothing but being tall?

Well the Astoria Column is interesting for at least two reasons. One is for the beautiful murals painted in a spiral around its exterior.   They tell the story of Astoria in pictures.

The other is that you can get to the top of this column.  You can go inside and climb the 164 step spiral staircase (go ahead, admit it, you love a spiral staircase.  Everyone does.)  and emerge at the top onto a little open air observation deck.  If you are lucky, and I mean really lucky - this is the Oregon coast after all - you will do it on a warm, clear day and when you get there you will be able to see 360 degrees of forever.  

To the west is the horizon where the ocean meets the sky.  The place where you can still see the ledge where people must certainly drop off because the earth simply cannot be round.  

To the south you see the exotic formations of the coast range.   And today, its so warm, you these formations remind you of Hawaii.

To the north, is the Columbia River where its 4 mile wide mouth meets the Pacific, and beyond, starting somewhere in the middle along a watery but invisible boundary, an entirely different state begins.

To the east, the Columbia River dominates - leading all the way across the state forming its northern border.  

GroveAtopia's best and most accessible views are from the top of Mt. David.  It's our community backyard, rising 880 feet above where most of us live.  Every GroveAtopian knows and loves Mt. David and despite the fact that it has always been privately owned nearly GroveAtopian has been to the top.

Every time I climb it I am re-amazed and how just the slightest rise makes all the difference. Being even just a few hundred feet up gives you a perspective of where we live that gives you pause.  You simply didn't know those hills over there, and that mountain over there were so close.  And look at all the hills and knolls that surround us.  You didn't really understand where we sit on our little southern piece of the great Willamette Valley until you saw it from this perspective.

A long time ago GroveAtopia had its own Astoria Column of sorts.  It was an oil well.  It sat at the top of Mt. David.   As the story goes, a certain Reverend Olson came to town in the 1920s and convinced a lot of prominent GroveAtopians that there was oil atop Mt. David.  Many of them invested a lot of money in his oil well, only to have him build the derrick, dig the hole, and skip town with all the money.

But the hole is still there.  And the story still lingers.  We could re-build the oil well and this time, instead of drilling for oil, or pretending to, we could build a viewing platform at top of the oil derrick, which would sit atop its original sight on Mt. David.

Go ahead and imagine it.  You know the view from there is divine.  And you know others who haven't seen it would agree,  if only the derrick and the viewing platform were actually there so they could really see it, because everyone loves a view.