Hung jury

“You’ll need to take every moment you can for sleep,” said the resident intern. My head bobbed up to see her flash by. All whites shoes and blue smock. I was sitting in an 5th floor lobby at Emanuel hospital; waiting for my Nana to get back from an x-ray. She took a turn for the worse on Wednesday, with a blood infection and who knows what else. I rose and slipped through the familiar halls. Earlier this summer, Nana had been there after a fall at the assisted living facility.

Going back further, I was born here in 1971.

Sitting in the lobby now. Unable to get a wi-fi signal for some reason. I’m waiting a few more minutes before I check on her again.

The day started with an early crush. Unable to sleep, I shuffled downstairs and climbed on board the Precor. After punching a few data bits – the thing started tracking my pace. I punched on the dvd player to watch a documentary.

Today was jury duty, a task that required an early arrival.

Greer drug himself sleepily across the living room. Rubbing his eyes, he posed for a moment, making his bed head hang sprout oddly. I watch him climb up the chair to get his breakfast. He’s not used to getting up quite so early. His expectation is a day at home, but today he’ll be going to the Y while I serve the city.

Laptop in hand, I was ready to make up for the lack of blogging by finishing up any half-baked, unposted entries while waiting on the court. Surely a whole day waiting for my name to be called would be enough.

Four hours later, they dismissed us due to a lack of active trials.

Now I’m here, wondering if Nana is going to be ok.

New traditions...

Establishing new traditions with my parents has been on my mind in the past couple years. After all of the family tragedy in 2006, it feels natural to connect in more personal ways, aside from the occasional weekend visit or holiday event.

With my mom, it's sharing sports....specifically, the newly redeemed Portland Trailblazers. While I was under her roof, she lamented the fact that I was much like my Dad....I had little enthusiasm for sports (perhaps it was because no NW teams were doing anything). It wasn't until college that started to enjoy watching college football or pro basketball. Flash forward to now. Last season, we attended six Blazer games - and had a ball. I occasionally took her to a favorite restaurant - Nicola's Lebanese eventually became the standardbearer - and then hustled out to the Rose Garden. We were hooked - and really enjoying the sharing the time together.

This year, were doing it again - and we're going to drag Greer to at least one game. A Utah preseason matchup - in celebration of him completing our library's summer reading program.

For my Dad, it looks like fishing or crabbing together is starting up. Last year, it was an ocean salmon fishing trip out of Iwaco, WA. This year, we found ourselves fishing a small lake in central oregon (where Greer landed his first trout) - and then again, on the Deshutes River - thanks to a local fishing trip auction my Mom had won.

The day dawned in perfect fashion. Clear and a little cold at 5am for the trip to where the Deshutes River joins the Columbia. Our old friend Glen Summers met us on the boat launch and got everything squared away in a hurry. As we cruised down the tail of the Deshutes, Glen began to roll out the stories of fishing trips past. He's been working as a river guide for years - and reminds me of Quint in Jaws. A weathered salt and his boat for hire. Under the steady howl of the engine, he and my dad began what would be almost an entire morning of fish, elk and deer stories - each one a little more unique than the last.

Getting out on the water at dawn has a natural magic. On the Columbia you become aware of another world waking up. The fish are breeching the water in all directions. A fat chinook rolls and flips his tail near the bow. A six-foot sturgeon launches itself 30 feet behind us. Everywhere there is movement that you'll never notice if you whiz by on I-84. You have to be out there to see what you're missing.

All the action came before 10am. As we ran a circular pattern from the mouth of the river, we ran into a bunch of biting fish. Dad hit the jackpot early with a 32-pound Chinook and a nice steelhead, while I landed two good-size steelhead - one of which we could keep.

All in all, a good time for us both. Since Glen provided good conversation, we were able to avoid the occasional uncomfortable silence that drapes itself on our one-on-one time. That....and being out on a boat again with Dad is a great thing. I have many great memories (mostly crabbing) of us working the water. Hopefully, this will be the beginning of something we can look forward to again.

Heatwave

Whenever it decides to heat up in Portland, we end up suffering a bit. We are without central air conditioning, and rely entirely on a battery of ceiling, window and floor fans to keep the place bearable when it gets over 90 degrees. This past weekend, it hit over 100 - which drove us into the basement bedroom, where we lay panting next to aging floor fans.

Alex and I camp on couches, and Greer sprawls on mattress pillow-top - stripped down to his nightpants. It's so hot, you don't even want to move. Upstairs is like a sauna - the heat hits like a sticky wave.

On days like this, circulating air, ice cold drinks and about 4 or 5 movies are the order of business. That...and a good sense of humor.

Ember visits!

Recently, we had the privilege of returning a favor. Greer has often been the short-term guest of my brother and his family - including his newly minted cousin - Ember. Whether it's a date night or conflicting schedules, Greer loves hanging with his second family when Mom and Dad are away.

After some time and frequent asking on our part, C and W finally decided to splurge and have a night to themselves, and left Ember in our care. Greer was elated to find out his cousin would be coming over and proceeded to pull out his favorite toys - along with a few that his 8-month old guest might enjoy as well. After the usual acclimatizing and parental lingering, the parents were gone off to a movie - and we were able to get down to business.

Books. More books. Singing. Jumping. Rolling. Laughing.

While Ember is still figuring out how to amble on two pegs, she is surprisingly agile on four. Regardless, Greer treated her like a little princess, doting on her and being a model big brother.

Such is his destiny...as he will be surrounded by girl cousins from within the family.

Day tripping

Sometimes you get lucky during the summer and everything comes together for a day. Friends visiting from out of town, a summer festival and the opportunity to road trip were the elements that converged recently on a Thursday for Greer and I. A chance to hop in the Bug and ramble south to Eugene for a reunion with my old college buddy Ryan and his family.

After a bit of a stutter-start, we breezed south through the Willamette Valley. Greer was amped at the change of scenery and only needed one potty break on the journey....that and a bag of his new favorite roadtrip snack, Corn Nuts.

After a short visit and burgers at his parent's house, Ryan and I hauled the kids over to a nearby park for a runaround....a chance for Greer and Reed to bond. As the boys chased each other around the playground, Ryan and I tried to catch up on everything. Since the Campbells moved to Connecticut, our circles are limited to the occasional phone call. Our most recent conversations came following the passing of the twins, so we did our best reconcile the last couple of years.

Another child had arrived...a beautiful girl, Lucy. More teaching stories, new personal interests, and plenty of parental lamentation about the growing up of our young boys. There was still much of the man I remembered, but we had changed together. As fathers and working (or not working) men.

Time passes though...as quickly as the boys' competition on the monkey bars. A goodbye popsicle and a few bear hugs later, and Greer and I were back on the road - headed north for a visit with another older friend in Junction City.

Brennen goes back a ways...almost 16 years now. A southern gentleman with a cajun streak and prominent tenor voice, B is now a Lutheran pastor to a congregation with a decidedly Scandinavian lineage. Coincidentally, Friday marked the beginning of an annual town festival that features all things Swedish, Finnish and Norwegian. Vikings wander downtown - next to booths selling pastries, meatpies (mmm...) and authentic Nordic-wear.

After meeting up with the right Reverend, we pushed into the festival - stopping to visit his wife, Michelle - who was helping serve up delicious puff pastries in appropriately traditional garb. A few Swedish dance numbers and a meatpie later, we were officially in the groove. I had picked up the necessary horned headgear (albeit plastic) for the boy and I, and Greer had temporarily exchanged lids with friendly viking.

After all of this, we piled back in the rig and headed home. In the 15 minutes it took to get back to I-5, Greer was nodding....by they time we hit Salem - he was out....pooped beyond everything.

Mission accomplished.

Blueberry buckets

When August rolls around, I turn into a bit of a fanatic. The lure of fresh berries from the field turns every week into a new quest. Farmers Markets are perused and pillaged. Plastic and cardboard containers full of Oregon's finest are consumed en masse out of the refrigerator.

Blueberries are usually the focus. A ripe blueberry is a truly wonderful thing - and an annual exodus to any of the nearby U-pick farms is a must. This year, we managed to make it out twice before the bushes were all picked out. Both times, Greer and I met up with my folks in Hood River and headed south into the legendary Fruit Loop that looms along the hills and valleys.

Our target was Gloria's Two Blues farm - which my folks hold as one of the best U-Pick's around. Gloria is a fantastic earth-mom who loves her berries, and grows them large. From the road, you could see the them hanging like grape clusters - a mouth-watering invitation. Unfortunately, she hadn't yet opened for picking during the week, so we had to scuttle down the road to the Browning farm, where things had been picked over a bit. Greer enjoyed the first go-round, carrying his bucket around and showing off its contents...all the while munching away.

Undaunted, I made plans to return the following week - this time with Dave along for the ride. Thankfully, things panned out (after a bit of cajoling - as she still wasn't open during the week), and we were free to pick. To say that these berries were big is an understatement. In some cases, they looked like small grapes - making it easy to harvest in short order. An hour after we arrived, we had raked in over 32 pounds.

Mmmmmm......