Sitting at one of our usual cafés at Market & Noe (outside because it’s all about the dog now); in fact it’s the first place we came with the dog, back when we worried if she would behave; the place we also came 3 times a week after ECT (Edison’s Medicine) in those dark months after the bridge episode. Soaking in neighborhood vibe – a rapidly changing one – and wondering how changed I will find Portland and my long estranged family tomorrow and the next day.

I’m  heading to Oregon to spread my dad’s ashes on Larch Mountain (there never were any Larch trees there) a place we frequented as kids to cut a Christmas tree, find firewood, 4-wheel driving – whatever.  It’s a good choice for dad – a kind of dad place. There are other places in and around the Columbia Gorge that would be meaningful to various of us, but Larch Mountain is a dad place.

This event seemed like good timing to start writing this blog – it’s a big enough event and it is likely to get weird – we’ll see.

I’m doing this because I love to write, and as an extreme introvert, have never found the proper outlet. Whether I will ever find an audience, well that isn’t important right now.  What I do have are countless stories that I think may resonate with other late baby boomers (I was born in the year of the tail fin 1959) who don’t relate to the Viagra adds and golf retirement communities, but are probably not sure they can retire at all. However, we’ve lived full lives, broken all the rules and managed to create stuff.