the rose city journal
For those of you just tuning in, welcome to the Rose City Journal. For the many opinionated (and much beloved) readers of the Northern Kentucky News blog, this is where I landed: in Portland, Oregon, also known as the Rose City. I was going to go with “Rose City News” for the blog title but at the last moment I decided that “journal” better reflected the stuff I write about the most:
While I write about locally-owned businesses, music, events and things to do, I also write a lot about the relationships that mean the most to us: our family, our friends and of course, our lovers. I’m a wide-eyed optimist who has a lot of innocence/angst, according to my friends, and a lot of curiosity about the many different people that I am lucky enough to meet, talk with and learn from. Learn more about me and the rose city journal blog by reading some of the “best of the blog” in the left-hand column.
I am, at the end of April 2008, a brand-new resident of Portland. As a kid I lived in Eugene and then I migrated to the Midwest and lived in greater Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky for many, many years. Although I loved living there, the west coast kept calling, and my large family (seven brothers and sisters, plus parents, nieces, nephews and all of their spouses) kept calling, too. Literally calling and asking me when I would make the move. So finally, I just did it.
I live in the lovely, historic Lair Hill neighborhood of Portland, which is not dissimilar from where I lived before: a historic district with an urban feel, very near the river and downtown. Lovely, rose and lilac-laden Lair Hill. I have already discovered the Old Lair Hill Market, a combination bar/restaurant/coffee shop, just steps away. Yay. I am still trying to find my way around the city. So far, I’m doing really well with finding places in SE Portland because anytime I try to go anywhere I seem to wind up on the Ross island bridge, ha.
I made the drive out to Portland from Kentucky with one of my brothers, who kindly offered to accompany me on my odyssey. I had thought about getting movers, but in the end… I wanted the experience. I just really wanted to feel the move. My brother, who lives in the Eugene/Springfield area, was perfect company for that kind of drive.
My brother is one of my many extended family members who has either lived or lives in Alaska. A pilot, he flew cargo, people and medical patients all over that fair state and to points beyond. Herded reindeer by helicopter. Mined for gold in the early summer months. Walked away from a polar bear. Could have been Phi Beta Kappa while in school but turned it down. Could have been an officer in the service but was too anxious to leave. We both count The Fountainhead among our favorite books- but only one of us is a Howard Roark. As you can probably guess, his exciting tales go on and on and on. I don’t think we had the stereo on for more than a total of 30 minutes throughout our entire 32 hour drive.
If he moves back to Alaska (a distinct possibility), I want to fly up on weekends and interview him on camera for a documentary about the state. I’ve learned more about the history and current social conditions in Alaska from my brother than from any show on the Discovery channel or PBS. The people who live there are not given to sharing with outsiders, but my brother lived there long enough (and has such a natural curiosity and friendliness to strangers) that he learned a great deal about the culture. If nothing else, I want to finally get to the dog races next year.
And so here I am. No worse for wear, and moved into my apartment, which is much smaller than the place I had before and not as nice, but hey, it costs more, ha. A band lives upstairs. They rehearse there too. A couple of band members already approached me, hats in hand, and asked how annoying they are. Not too bad, I told them. I just wish you’d learn more than two songs.
Welcome to the Rose City Journal. Stick around. This promises to be one heck of a ride.
While I write about locally-owned businesses, music, events and things to do, I also write a lot about the relationships that mean the most to us: our family, our friends and of course, our lovers. I’m a wide-eyed optimist who has a lot of innocence/angst, according to my friends, and a lot of curiosity about the many different people that I am lucky enough to meet, talk with and learn from. Learn more about me and the rose city journal blog by reading some of the “best of the blog” in the left-hand column.
I am, at the end of April 2008, a brand-new resident of Portland. As a kid I lived in Eugene and then I migrated to the Midwest and lived in greater Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky for many, many years. Although I loved living there, the west coast kept calling, and my large family (seven brothers and sisters, plus parents, nieces, nephews and all of their spouses) kept calling, too. Literally calling and asking me when I would make the move. So finally, I just did it.
I live in the lovely, historic Lair Hill neighborhood of Portland, which is not dissimilar from where I lived before: a historic district with an urban feel, very near the river and downtown. Lovely, rose and lilac-laden Lair Hill. I have already discovered the Old Lair Hill Market, a combination bar/restaurant/coffee shop, just steps away. Yay. I am still trying to find my way around the city. So far, I’m doing really well with finding places in SE Portland because anytime I try to go anywhere I seem to wind up on the Ross island bridge, ha.
I made the drive out to Portland from Kentucky with one of my brothers, who kindly offered to accompany me on my odyssey. I had thought about getting movers, but in the end… I wanted the experience. I just really wanted to feel the move. My brother, who lives in the Eugene/Springfield area, was perfect company for that kind of drive.
My brother is one of my many extended family members who has either lived or lives in Alaska. A pilot, he flew cargo, people and medical patients all over that fair state and to points beyond. Herded reindeer by helicopter. Mined for gold in the early summer months. Walked away from a polar bear. Could have been Phi Beta Kappa while in school but turned it down. Could have been an officer in the service but was too anxious to leave. We both count The Fountainhead among our favorite books- but only one of us is a Howard Roark. As you can probably guess, his exciting tales go on and on and on. I don’t think we had the stereo on for more than a total of 30 minutes throughout our entire 32 hour drive.
If he moves back to Alaska (a distinct possibility), I want to fly up on weekends and interview him on camera for a documentary about the state. I’ve learned more about the history and current social conditions in Alaska from my brother than from any show on the Discovery channel or PBS. The people who live there are not given to sharing with outsiders, but my brother lived there long enough (and has such a natural curiosity and friendliness to strangers) that he learned a great deal about the culture. If nothing else, I want to finally get to the dog races next year.
And so here I am. No worse for wear, and moved into my apartment, which is much smaller than the place I had before and not as nice, but hey, it costs more, ha. A band lives upstairs. They rehearse there too. A couple of band members already approached me, hats in hand, and asked how annoying they are. Not too bad, I told them. I just wish you’d learn more than two songs.
Welcome to the Rose City Journal. Stick around. This promises to be one heck of a ride.
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