Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Che Guevara jacket

I flew to Portland, OR to visit the wonderful Tim Blue. Tim just moved back from Berlin, and I wanted to visit him to check up on him. Here he is wearing a jacket that was inspired, seemingly, by Latin firebrand Che Guevara. He is blinking one of his eyes in this picture (sorry, Tim).

Alia says that I will grow old and die in Portland, but really, Portland doesn't call out to me. All I know of the city is that most of Brooklyn seems to hail from there, and that the former members of Sleater-Kinney live there too. On this my first trip there, Tim took me to a divey Mexican place and a fancy eaterie, and we stopped by Powell's Books and this fun record store, too. I bought the new Neneh Cherry record there, and Tim and I listened to it in my rental car, but it left me cold. We also saw the movie "Farewell, My Queen" and walked along some esplanade, talking of Joni Mitchell, of all people. We managed to escape Burnside without being offered a gluten-free, sprouted, fair trade snack.

In this picture, we are on the block that Tim grew up on. Tim walked me up and down the block and related his history there. He told me of families touched by violence, mental illness, and tragedy, and I was struck by how little I know of the street I grew up on, Ditmars Blvd. in Queens. Sure, there was that little crazy kid Sakyi who kicked in my parents' storm door one time, and that hoarder lady two doors down. But if I were giving someone a tour of Ditmars Blvd., I'm not sure where I'd take them. I guess that's because I mostly stayed in my room reading Madeleine L'Engle and Louise Fitzhugh novels as a child. I was a very sheltered kid, which comes back to haunt me now in my middle age when I still don't know how to keep from freaking out when I find myself part of a group of people. I've always walked alone.

I was very moved to get a look into a dear friend's childhood. I don't know if I'll ever go back to Portland, but perhaps from time to time I'll just inexplicably find myself there, the way I sometimes inexplicably find myself in Brooklyn.

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