After several silly delays, including a first officer that got locked out of the jetway while trying to join the crew on our plane, we arrived in Portland about 2a (5a at home). We still had to get our luggage, find the Enterprise Rental desk, and drive to my stepdaughter’s new home. Needless to say, I got to bed about the same time I normally wake up, with very little sleep.

By 9a I was doing the daily run, choosing a middle school track over the hilly roads surrounding it. However, the temperature was much cooler, so I went a little further at a pace that was nearly a minute faster. When I returned to the house, my clothes were not uncomfortably soaked in sweat. I was home again in Portland.

Today, I’ll see some familiar sights, starting with a friendly lunch at the Lake Oswego Grill. The temps have been hot here, as well, considering that this athletic dude did his annual bike ride from Seattle to Portland and couldn’t finish, consumed by 90-degree heat. After lunch, I’ll swing by Plaza Cleaners for a pair of pants apparently left behind two-years ago in our move to Florida. Dinner will be at Ling’s Garden, the Asian restaurant that we frequented while living in our Portland apartment and dealing with Covid.

I made arrangements to visit a former co-worker’s home on Sunday after a wedding weekend that starts tomorrow. There will be many long-lost faces in attendance, with probably a few surprises. We’re staying at the Tillamook Shilo Inn, a rare deviation from our Marriott lodging. Tillamook is of course famous for its Cheese and right down the road is Netart’s Bay, known for its oysters and the home of my about to be married buddy of 55 years.

I wrote this poem for his wedding toast, taking into account our friendship extending from hometown Elkhart (“City with a heart”) to I.U. and finally into Oregon. I’m making fun of his R.V., likely built in our our Hoosier backyard, and the trip we took together to Italy with ex-wives:

Wedding Roast

Rog and I go back 55 years,

From the city with a Heart.

Blazers and Hoosiers,

Choir was our start.

 

We could have had,

Mobile home careers.

But Roger chose,

Instead to steer.

 

It’s often parked,

In his driveway.

Overlooking,

Netarts Bay.

 

But when traffic is slow,

We often say:

Must be a “Rog,”

Blocking the way.

 

We’ve traveled abroad,

Back in the day.

With other women,

Let’s just say.

 

You showed me,

The Amalfi Coast.

So I offer you,

This silly roast.

 

We once saw the Pope,

Mowing his lawn.

He had his shirt off,

Showing Holy brawn.

 

In an Italian rental,

Speaking of scares.

You nearly guided me,

Down a set of stairs. 

 

But enough about us,

Let’s talk about them.

Roger and Christina,

Together again.

 

40 years ago,

They dated two years.

But missed 38 more,

Due to commitment fears.

 

Destiny has intervened,

So FEAR NOT.

They now get a second shot,

And have tied Love’s knot.

 

No more glitches,

Two point Oh.

We’re all delighted,

As you two know.

 

Here’s to the Millers,

Or did she make you Hoell?

With this latest version,

Your lives grew full. (Or whole)

 

We wish you the best,

And don’t come knockin’

Especially when,

That “Rog” is rockin’.

 

If up to me,

I’d end right there.

But Denise insists,

There’s more to share.

 

To Roger and Christina,

A toast to 2.0.

May you spend your golden years,

Basking in love’s glow.

Copyright johnstonwrites.com

To be continued…..;…