randy_byers: (2009-05-10)
2016-08-22 Basalt layers.jpg
Basalt layers in Crooked River Canyon

From 1992 to 1996, there was a nightclub in downtown Seattle called, in full, And the Weathered Wall, the Purity Remains, but which was called The Weathered Wall by anyone who didn't want to sound like a pompous ass. The full name was painted on one of the walls of the club, and I thought it was attributed to one of the Romantic poets, but Google isn't helping me with that vague memory. In any event, I always loved the short name, and it was one of my favorite clubs in its brief existence, where I saw bands such as 7 Year Bitch, The Gits, Wayne Horvitz and Pigpen, Vexed, and Imij. They also had a DJ dance night called something like the Lemon Lounge, which was I believe my introduction to acid jazz. Lots of good memories.

None of this has anything to do with what I'm about to write about, which is my recent trip to Crooked River Ranch with my family, except for the theme of memory and the metaphor of the weathered wall. My family's house at CRR is on the rim of the Crooked River Canyon, which is cut through layers and layers basalt resulting from centuries of lava flows that happened thousands of years ago. Nothing like geology to make you feel like a blip in both spatial and temporal scheme of things. The basalt formations, including the walls of the canyon, are one of the most striking features of the area. They are weathered, just as are all the members of my family, excluding the youngest, my great niece Celine, who is still pretty fresh to the world at five willful years old.

We celebrated three milestones while I was there: my brother's impending retirement from Hewlett-Packard, where he has worked for over thirty years (his special dinner was crab louie); my impending retirement from the University of Washington, where I worked for 27 years (my special dinner was T-bone steaks --a favorite cut when I was a child); and my niece's 40th birthday (crepes for breakfast and home made chocolate chip mint ice dream after dinner). My niece was born pretty near the bicentennial birthday of the USA, so I guess we were also celebrating the country's 240th birthday. All of these milestones have a theme of aging in common, although mine has an added subtext of illness, of course. Age and illness are both part of the human weathering process. It's also interesting that both my sister and brother worked in one place for at least 30 years (for my sister it was the Salem School District in Oregon), and I would have made it if it hadn't been for those pesky cancer cells. Something in our family (or at least the three kids, because it wasn't true of our father) ran toward sticking in one job for as long as possible. Why was that?

2016-08-25 The log house.jpg
The log house

We've been taking vacations at Crooked River since my dad joined the sales team out there in the early '70s to supplement his teaching income during the summers. The Crooked River Ranch was developed by a businessman from Seattle, and one of the interesting things about it is that, unlike most resorts in the Central Oregon area near Bend, such as Sun River and Black Butte, it was aimed at working class customers. So it's a lower rent kind of place, with lots of trailers and double-wides on the lots, and businesses cluttering the benchland in the middle of the picturesque canyon, making the adjective questionable. (The canyon was halfway filled with lava at one point, then the river cut a smaller canyon into that fresh basalt, so there's two levels to the canyon.) My parents' log house is by no means low rent, and there are a lot of nice places around too, but the overriding impression when you drive around the ranch is not of wealth.

In any event, we have a lot of history out there, and a lot of good memories. It was great to spend an extended time with my family, being pampered by all of them. My family has always been close, but in the aftermath of my diagnosis, they've formed a protective circle around me that I find difficult to describe. LaVelle even drove up to Seattle and learned how to apply transducer arrays, and then drove me all the way (six hours) to CRR via Highway 97 (one of my favorite drives) so that we could bring the Optune along. Lonnie drove me home. My illness was the source of much conversation, of course. Little Celine kept telling me she was sorry I had bumped my head. I guess the transducer arrays looked like bandages to her.

But it's not always so easy to talk about my illness. When my brother got together with a couple of old college buddies to celebrate his retirement, we picked up Tom on the way to the pub, and when he got in the car, he started in on a non-stop barrage of very aggressive, foul-mouthed story telling about another friend of theirs. I know Tom is a motormouth and a great bullshitter, but he was so intense that my initial reaction was, "Will he never shut up?!!!" Lonnie and I talked about it later, and we agreed that he probably just didn't know what to say to me about what I've been going through. Later, after we met up with Steve, Tom seemed to calm down, and he and I even talked about my treatment a bit. I showed off the transducer arrays briefly.

2016-08-25 Foco and Janego.jpg
Tom, Lonnie, Steve, and Me at Three Creek Brewing in Sisters

I have to admit that the evening of the retirment party for me, I also got teary-eyed when I was thinking about it earlier in the day, because this is certainly not how I would have chosen to retire. It almost felt like a celebration of the cancer in some weird way, but that was just my perverse mood, I suspect. My sister also picked up a plastic skeleton to use for a Halloween decoration, and I became morbidly obsessed with the skeleton. I tend to be pretty sanguine about my fate from day to day, but clearly there's some anxiety percolating away in the inner depths. Maybe because the protectiveness of my family brings out a feeling of vulnerability, I came away from the vacation feeling more torn up than I generally do in my day-to-day life in Seattle, where I feel safe in my routines, as disrupted as they've been by treatment.

2016-08-25 Me and Mr Bones.jpg
Mr Bones and I share a morbid moment with my new tie-dyed t-shirt

At one point talk turned to my recent writing, and my niece, I think it was, suggested that I should write a memoir. This is appealing to me, because, narcissist that I am, my favorite thing to write about is myself, but at the same time it seems to me that my life has been so unremarkable and unextraordinary and aimless, there's not much there to interest anyone but those closest to me. Still, I want to focus on my writing as much as possible, and there's a lot of material in this LiveJournal, for example, that I could exploit for the purpose of a memoir, so I'll give the idea further thought. The only other idea I've had is to return to "Little Dog Talk," which is a story I conceived based on my experiences on Yap as a child and as an adult and also based on some of the stories I've heard about Yapese magic and mythology. I wrote a version of it under a different title many years ago and even workshopped it at a Taste of Clarion workshop at Potlatch (where Ursula Le Guin administered a chastening critique), and I've been rewriting it in my head ever since.

Although I felt like I slept a whole hell of a lot during the eight days I was down there, I did get in four hikes, including two down to the river, which involved steep inclines that were a bit of a challenge to my knackered stamina. Well worth it, however, to sit and listen to the river seeking its level and to enjoy the cool air and vibrant greenery. More worryingly, I've recently developed symptoms in my left shoulder that feel very similar indeed to what turned out to be rotator cuff tendinitis in my right shoulder a couple of years ago. I probably should have it checked out, although the idea of doing physical therapy while I'm still undergoing chemo is daunting. Something to talk to the oncologists about, I suppose. My next consultation is tomorrow.

2016-08-21 The quilting frame.jpg
Mom and LaVelle baste the quilt, while my niece and great niece play underneath (LaVelle and a lot of my female cousins could remember being the girls playing under the quilt years ago)

Of course this is all me, me, me, and I haven't gotten into any stories about Celine or about the quilt that my Mom is making for her and was working on the whole time we were out there. There's nothing about my dad's improved health or the health problems my mom's been having. Nothing about my niece's new commercial photography gig with a clothing company in Portland. Nothing about the ongoing sagas of my nephews' attempts to reach the next stage of adulthood, most of which aren't really my stories to share anyway. But should they go into a memoir? One of my challenges would be how to handle the stories that would potentially embarrass me or others. Of course, those stories are in many ways the most fascinating stories of all. Am I up to the challenge of finding a way to tell them with sensitivity and compassion?

I return to Seattle feeling more unsure of myself than when I left, which is a little irritating, because it makes me feel young and immature. I'd prefer to be more of a weathered wall myself, shaped by what I've been through but able to withstand the forces buffeting me. Maybe now's the time to embrace the sign I saw at Seattle Coffee Company today: Vulnerability Is Your Superpower.

2016-08-27 Basalt layers.jpg
The weathered wall
randy_byers: (roadtrip)
Three weeks ago I was planning one of my trips to the Olympic Peninsula, where I love to immerse myself in the natural beauty of ocean, beach, rain forest, and mountain. Then on Thursday the 6th, just three days before I was going to head for Astoria on the first leg of that trip, I found myself at work trying to decipher an old database while being bombarded by text messages from my family. Gradually it penetrated my distracted brain that my mom and dad needed somebody to help them drive to their winter home in Southern California and that neither my sister or brother were in a position to do that.

"I've got next week off," I texted. "I can drive to California, if that's what's needed."

The next day at 5:30pm I was on a train to Portland, having cancelled all my reservations in Astoria and La Push. Twelve hours later we were in my parents' Prius heading down Interstate 5. I was suffering a bit of whiplash, but it was all in a good cause.

On the road again )
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I took the train to Portland for Thanksgiving weekend. Managed to proofread Chunga on the way down, but the ride was uneventful otherwise. Thanksgiving was at my cousin's house in Beaverton for the third year, and it was as fun as always to get together with my aunt's family and drink too much wine.

Friday was Civil War day -- the University of Oregon vs. Oregon State University football game. Before that I braved REI to do some shopping research as I think about getting a rainproof coat that I can use on my Olympic Peninsula hikes. Then a bunch of us hiked to Pittock Mansion up in the West Hills, which was a good climb. I actually don't think I'd ever been there before, although I vaguely thought I had. The Civil War was a close game for the first time in a few years, and Oregon won by one point on a touchdown with 30 seconds left in the game. After our traditional turkey noodle soup dinner, I watched Man of Steel with my eldest nephew on his laptop.

Saturday night I got together with Dan and Lynn Steffan, which has become a new Thanksgiving-weekend tradition. They took me to a couple of their favorite local bars, and I got to see Dan's cover for the next issue of Raucous Caucus. Many good tales were told and much gossip shared, and I caught a taxi back to the Pearl District at 2 in the morning.

My parents had departed for California on Saturday, and my brother and his wife left for Corvallis before I got up on Sunday. But my sister came over to the condo and we worked on a puzzle, with a break for sushi at a nearby kaiten place. A nice, quiet, rainy, blustery day. The Turkey Train (a special train for the holiday) was late getting out of Portland, but made up almost all the lateness on the way. I slept quite a bit in my damaged state, but also finished reading William Morris' fantasy novel, The Water of the Wondrous Isles. Stay tuned for a review of that, coming Real Soon Now.

Amazingly I didn't go to Powell's City of Books the whole time, although that was mostly because I'd just been there a couple of weeks ago.

2013-11-30 Great Grands
My parents eating lunch with their great granddaughter
randy_byers: (roadtrip)
20131112_01_James Island and Foam
A foamy taste of things to come

Well, I visited the Olympic Peninsula once again, but this time I approached it in a more roundabout way than usual. I'm going to bomb this report with photos, so let's drop them behind a cut, what?

The long and winding (coastal) road ... )

PDX again

Sep. 30th, 2013 09:32 am
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I took the train to Portland this weekend for my mom's 80th birthday celebration (and my dad's 83rd). The good news this week was that the test my dad got for the health problem I mentioned recently (without giving any details, nor will I now) returned results that were a vast relief to one and all. Other than that it was just a fun weekend of drink, food, and football (on TV), and watching the stormy weather outside. The train ride was great, although I worried that mudslides might get in the way. No such bad luck.

The Sunday Oregonian had an article about an all-female Portland punk band called the Neo Boys that was around from 1978-1983. I don't remember ever hearing of them, even though I lived in Portland in 1983. It's an interesting article, and one of the things that jumped out at me was the penultimate paragraph, which mentions none other than Lesley Reece, who apparently wrote the liner notes for the retrospective collection of the band's music that will be released on Oct. 15. The funny thing is that I'd completely forgotten that when I first met Lesley she was the bassist in a punk band called something like Eighteen Helicopters. Well, I had a bit of a flashback, I can tell you that.
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
Also sprach Zarathustra

I'm back from a week in Central Oregon with my family. Pretty much all the immediate family was there, at least for part of the time. My niece had to go back to Portland to work two days on Monday and Tuesday, but she returned. My eldest nephew was there from Thursday through Saturday, and the youngest was there from Friday through Sunday. Even my niece's ex-husband showed up for one day (while my niece was in Portland) to spend time with his daughter, my great niece.

Yadda yadda photo photo ... )
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
When I arrived at the Redmond-Bend airport on Friday, my mom said, "You're the youngest one in the house this weekend." The family was gathering at the Crooked River house for a belated Father's Day celebration, but none of the younger generations was there. I'm not sure when last it was just my parents, siblings, and sister-in-law. Probably decades. As I said to said sister-in-law yesterday while I was putting dishes in the dishwasher after the Father's Day meal, "Well, the nice thing about the kids not being around is that there are fewer dishes to clean."

"True," she said, "but the kids aren't here to do the cleaning!"

My parents moved out of the Crooked River house last year, and they want to sell it. Fortunately my brother wants to buy it, so it will stay in the family. My parents built that house, and we all worked on it, so the family connection is particularly strong. In any event, my brother has his own ideas about various things regarding the house, including what kind of finish to put on it, so he spent all weekend stripping the old finish off the south side of the house, which takes a hard beating from the desert sun. This left me feeling a bit antsy, because I felt that I should help, yet I really just wanted to veg.

Mostly I vegged, although I did help a little. I felt weirdly exhausted this weekend, particularly on Sunday. I'm not sure what the cause was, although I've been feeling a bit stressed out by work lately. A co-worker retired at the end of May, and I took on some of her work, so I guess it's been just that much more demanding on my time and mental energy. Anyway, I surely could have used a few more days to vacate and bake myself in the desert sun. Then again it started to rain yesterday, so the baking part wouldn't have been in the cards.

The plan is to get together for a week at the end of August, and we discussed various plans for hiking and day trips. Sounds like a grand time. I can't wait.
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I'm back from a week with my family in Central Oregon. I hope to post some photos once I've gone through them to see whether any are worth posting. Meanwhile, I don't even know who won the Hugos yet!
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I can't say the quality of these photos is all that great, but I feel that I've written about my trips to the Crooked River Canyon a lot without giving much in the way of visual aids. These four photos were taken on the hike I mentioned in my previous post, which took us along Otter Bench Trail and Opal Pool Loop. This first shot shows the canyon, which has two layers. The river cut the broader canyon first, then it was halfway filled by another lava flow (or series of flows), and the river cut the that rock in a narrower canyon down to its current depth. As I mentioned in the last post, there are three rivers in this area (the other two are the Metolius and the Deschutes, and all of this water flows into the mighty Columbia to the north), and all three have cut similar canyons.

Cut to three more photos )
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I spent last weekend with the family at my parents' house in Central Oregon. I suppose the big thing was the discussion my dad called with all of my siblings, my sister-in-law, and of course my mom, about what to do with the house now that they are moving to a condo in Portland. The upshot of the discussion is that they'll hang onto it for another year, after which my brother will probably buy it. That works for me, because it means we'll still be able to do family gatherings there, and I do love that place. Strange how these things work out, because if they'd been ready to sell before the housing market crashed, there's no way in hell my brother would've been able to afford it.

Other than that it was the usual family entertainment, with little Celine (my niece's daughter) who is now mobile, providing the main show. Yesterday I went for a 7.5 mile hike with my sister, niece, and nephew-in-law. We walked through beautiful high desert terrain out to a point where you can see the beginning of Lake Billy Chinook, where the Crooked, Metolius, and Deschutes Rivers enter and only the Deschutes leaves. Didn't see much wild life, although Jake heard a warning buzz from an off-trail rattlesnake, which of course did its job of scaring the bejeebus out of him. Saw a zillion wild flowers. Managed to not get badly burned, although I did get a couple of blisters from my newish hiking boots. I may post a photo or two later once I've had a chance to download the handful I took and have a look at how they turned out.

New year

Jan. 3rd, 2012 09:17 am
randy_byers: (uo)
The year has gotten off to a good start with the University of Oregon's first Rose Bowl victory since 1917. Take that, Cubs fans! I watched the game with Andy and Carrie, who were rooting for Wisconsin, but I think Chunga has survived the conflict.

Oh yeah, and I'm really happy with the new issue of Chunga too. It is dispersing into the world even now. We're going to try to publish the next issue for Corflu in April. Loccers take note!

O Power

Nov. 21st, 2011 09:02 am
randy_byers: (uo)

This story has been making the rounds, so pardon me if you've already seen it. The New York Times reported this weekend that the hand sign that University of Oregon fans use to mean "O" (see picture above) is the American Sign Language sign for "vagina". An old UO classmate of mine posted a link to the story on Facebook, and of course our old crowd were all, "That's awesome! Vagina power, hell yes!"

It was amusing, then, to discover that the New York Times story treats this as an "oops". Apparently it's embarrassing to make vagina signs? I don't know. Even funnier was my brother, who roots for Oregon State University and hates the UO, who e-mailed the link to everybody in the family with the subject-line "Thought you might like to know" and the comment "just saying". Pretty ironic coming from somebody who roots for a team called the Beavers!

Nike gloves for UO football players
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
Spent Fourth of July weekend in central Oregon with my family. It was nice to get a lot of desert sunshine. My vitamin D levels were replenished. There was much talk and laughter, as always -- many family stories. One thing I hadn't known before, which kind of threw me for a loop, was that my grandmother B had already moved to Oregon from Alberta when my grandfather met her. I also didn't know that my grandfather had grown up in Illinois and had moved to Alberta (to avoid the draft) from there. So my grandmother actually returned to Alberta after she married my grandfather. When they moved to Oregon, it was because her family was there, not because his was. I'd always had it in my head that he moved to Alberta from Oregon to avoid the draft, met my grandmother, then brought her back to Oregon when he lost all his money (and thus his farm in Canada) during the Depression.

Other than talking and eating, I didn't do much other than read Shakespeare's Cymbeline. (I've now read all four late romances, although it's been so long since I read A Winter's Tale that I don't remember a thing. I'll probably reread it soon.) There was also a lot of nature on parade, including four pheasants (unusual in that area) and a bunch of coyotes down below in the canyon. The golden eagles nested on the point by the house again this year, so we saw them a lot too.

I continue to feel pretty stressed out about various things. I've got too much on my plate, including at work, and we're also waiting for the budget axe to drop. People are going to lose their jobs. It makes me feel sick to my stomach. It was good to get away for a few days.
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
On Wednesday, [livejournal.com profile] holyoutlaw and I saw Kelly Reichardt's latest film, Meek's Cutoff, and I expressed some disappointment with it in my review. Today via a thread about Jesse James at TNC's blog I learned about George Washington Bush, a black man from Pennsylvania who ended up settling in the town of Bush Prairie in what is now Tumwater, Washington, at the southern tip of the Puget Sound. Meek's Cutoff is set on the Oregon Trail in 1845. According to Wikipedia, "In 1844, Bush and his family (along with five other families including his friend Michael Simmons) left Missouri, heading west on the Oregon Trail. Bush's navigation skills and knowledge of the western region, gained during his years as a trapper, and while allegedly travelling around practicing polygamy with his seven other wives, made him the indispensable guide of the party."

I wrote in my review of the film that it is cut loose from history, but it occurred to me this morning that the radical uncertainty at the end of the film might well be a preface to history. That might explain the feeling of dread. History is about to happen, and it's going to be ugly process of war and dispossession. So it's interesting to read Bush's story, because it's actually pretty cool and has a happy ending. He tried to settle in Oregon, but it was already U.S. territory and blacks weren't allowed to own property. That's why he moved north into territory that was still claimed by the British as well as the U.S. British law allowed blacks to own property. When the U.S. took control of the land and formed the Washington Territory in 1853, "one of the first actions of the Territorial Legislature in Olympia was to ask Congress to give the Bushes unambiguous ownership of their land, which it did in 1855." One of Bush's sons was a member of the Washington State Legislature and was instrumental in the founding of Washington State University.

One of the frequent refrains at TNC's blog is that the Western genre has for too long ignored the place of blacks in the settling of the American West, where many of them fled to escape slavery or the post-war terror campaigns of the Ku Klux Klan. George Washington Bush's story seems like prime material for a revisionist Western. Meek's Cutoff has a different revisionist approach to the Western, but it's interesting that Bush's experience as a guide on the Oregon Trail could act as a kind of prequel.
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I spend Mother's Day weekend at my parents' house in central Oregon. There was a new mother in the house: my niece just gave birth to baby Celine. Celine is around six weeks old, and she still hasn't even learned how to focus her eyes yet. I'm not around babies much, and it was a powerful reminder how much we have to learn to become humans. It was also interesting to me that her inability to control her arms and legs was something that could get her wound up. If her arms and legs started flailing too much, she'd get upset and start crying. They would swaddle her in a blanket to keep her limbs still, and she'd immediately calm down. It's frustrating to have no self-control!

Lots of family news and plans. My sister is moving to Portland to help with the baby. My parents are making progress in their plans to move back to Portland, too, which will happen next year. They're in the process of buying a condo in the Pearl District. Maybe I'll finally hit some of the new brewpubs I've been reading and hearing about when I start visiting them there.

I've been somewhat stressed out in recent weeks, mostly because of work -- not really in any negative sense, but because I have a lot coming at me at the moment. So I've been pretty wound up to begin with, and I got even more wound up last week traveling down memory lane, as I wrote about in recent posts. Then on Friday just before I left for Oregon I was blindsided by the eruption of animosity on one of the fannish lists I hang out on. It wasn't aimed at me but at a friend, and then a couple of other people chimed in in a way that I took as dog-piling. I was utterly furious, and I almost said some things that I certainly would have regretted later. I ground on it all weekend, although by the time I returned to Seattle on Sunday, calmer heads had intervened and smoothed the waters. A typical tempest in a teapot, but on top of everything else it really got me wired.

Yesterday we had an equipment malfunction at work that made the office unbearably hot, so I went home after lunch. I was so exhausted just from feeling wound up that I slept most of the afternoon. It really helped a lot. I also made an appointment to get a massage on Thursday, which will hopefully help me let go some of the built up tension. My right shoulder has been sore for a couple of weeks, partly from sleeping on it wrong and partly from tension. Or maybe I strained a muscle while gardening, I'm not completely sure. Whatever the cause, I'm hoping the massage will be the cure.
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
So I drove to my brother's place in Corvallis on Saturday. Beautiful day for a drive. I arrived just after noon, and we sat out on the deck in the sun for a while, then we headed down to the brewpub, Block 15, with my eldest nephew as designated driver. I'd been reading about Block 15 on the beer blogs, and the beer was quite good. Perhaps my favorite was the Berliner Weisse, which was a sour wheat beer with only around 3% ABV. Would make a very nice summer drink. Back at the house we ate left-over Chinese takeout for dinner and my brother and I talked late into the night (for us) over a big bottle of red wine.

Sunday was Easter. My brother and I went for a hike in a nature reserve that had been an Army training camp back in WWII. It has reverted to swamp, but there are still old roads and concrete foundations covered in moss. Lots of chittering marsh wrens in the cattails. The weather had turned cloudy and damp. My sister came down from Salem for Easter dinner, and a friend of my nephew's came over as well. Much discussion of my sister's new grand daughter, who is almost a month old now. I'll meet her in a couple of weeks when we all gather again for Mother's Day weekend. Baby talk led to memories of when the nephews were babies, and my sister-in-law brought out her book of old photos. Lots of good family feeling.

The drive back in the rain wasn't as nice as the sunny drive down had been. In the Kalama/Kelso area I hit a downpour that was almost as bad as the downpour I hit in that same area many years ago that was so bad I actually pulled off the freeway. It wasn't quite that bad this time, but it was still nerve-wracking. Then traffic jams in Centralia and Tacoma. But everything looked so green and new, with trees putting out bright new foliage. I don't make that drive as often as I used to when my parents lived in Portland, and there are parts of it, especially along the Columbia river, that are really beautiful. You stop seeing it when you travel the same route too often, so it was good to see the Spring-fresh world with fresh eyes.
randy_byers: (Default)

Another winter sunrise on the Oregon desert.

(Another photo by my brother.)
randy_byers: (Default)

Winter sunrise on the Oregon desert.

(Photo by my brother.)


Dec. 26th, 2010 06:57 pm
randy_byers: (2010-08-15)
I'm back from Central Oregon, where I spent Xmas weekend with the whole family except for my sister, who is still in Chile. It was a very mellow weekend. There was snow on the ground, but the roads were clear. The food was good, and Christmas itself wasn't very stressful. I even helped with the cooking a little, which was fun. Well, you know how these things always are. Lots of conversation about life, the universe, and getting older. My younger nephew gave me a ceramic sculpture of Spiderman's hand, in web-throwing pose, which he had made in a ceramics class at his high school. I've put it upstairs in the awards, shrines, and dolls display.

I returned to a very cool Christmas card from [livejournal.com profile] gerisullivan and a copy of Chaplin at Keystone that I had ordered a few weeks ago. Chaplin at Keystone is a collection of almost all the shorts Charles Chaplin made at Keystone in 1914 -- the first films he made in the U.S., before -- or as -- he created the Little Tramp character, and before he was a genius. Should be good for a laugh in the new year.

In a few days, [livejournal.com profile] ron_drummond will come here for a stay as part of the trip out for his father's memorial. Marriages, pregnancies, deaths all around. It's the beginning of a new age.

Well, ho ho ho, you know? I look forward to seeing Ron, and I look forward to the new year. The adventure, such as it is, continues.

Numero Uno

Oct. 18th, 2010 08:08 am
randy_byers: (uo)
The University of Oregon football team is ranked number 1 in the nation in the AP poll for the first time in the history of the entire universe. They quite possibly don't deserve it (the BCS poll still has them ranked 2nd), and it likely won't last, but it still makes me stupidly happy. Interesting factlet from the article: only 43 different schools have been ranked number 1 in the AP poll since it started in 1936.


randy_byers: (Default)

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