Weekend Adventures

Since we had a car for the weekend, we had a few more adventures than usual. After our chores were done on Saturday, we found ourselves heading south on 82nd. We decided to see where it went. Soon, we found ourselves on a freeway heading toward Salem, which was fine with us…but along the way we saw a sign for the Street of Dreams. Why not? So off we went, following the well-marked way, to what seemed the ends of the earth. Meander, meander, meander, park. We paid our $15 and spent several hours wandering through very expensive homes.

Mostly, they seemed big and awkward. We saw a few ideas we liked. A good open plan here, a nice tile there. The infinity pool was pretty. At one point, the Spousal Unit remarked that he was surprised he’d found nothing to envy. I never really expected to–I just wanted to pick up a few ideas and look at the pretties. And maybe feel morally superior.

On Sunday, we intended to go hunting for public art in Northeast, but instead ended up at Rose City Cemetery, a place I’d been before. It’s a lovely cemetery, dominated by upright gravestones, rather than the modern flush-to-ground ones that make a graveyard seem more like a golf-course. As I always do, I saw something very cool.

From there, the SU thought we could visit the Willamette National Cemetery, the signs for which we keep passing on 82nd. So, back to 82nd we went, and made the appropriate turn toward Mt. Scott. Turns out WNC is right across from Lincoln Memorial Park, and oh my is that a big place. We slowly drove the lanes, not seeing anything much we wanted to get out for–but it is a pretty setting. We finally made our way to Willamette National, only to be disappointed by one of those golf-course graveyards. This is not a big surprise, considering it was established in the early 1950s.

There’s something wrong about the attitude that getting the mower around easily is more important than having a personal memorial. Wandering Rose City, it’s easy to connect with the people who once lived, whose remains now rest there. It is peaceful and sad and deeply human. Places like Willamette are more like Public Storage. They may as well paint the headstones orange.

After the cemetery run, we headed out Foster until it ended, turned right, and eventually landed at Alice’s Country Market. What a nifty place–topiary and statuary and produce and Moxie! I bought a Mountain Dew in a glass bottle. The SU picked up a Moxie cream soda to try.

Finally home, tired and well-ventured.

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