Excitement in the Roth-Gates household: Kris testified this morning at the inquest for the Serey-Perez shooting, which has been the big news story around Portland this past month. She was nervous, but thought things went well.
Kris’ sister, Tiffany, is in town for a few days. After I picked her up from the airport yesterday afternoon, we had some time to kill before picking Kris up from the Crime Lab, so Tiff let me stop at Future Dreams to look at comics. I found some old issues of Action Girl, and picked up the latest black-and-white compilations of Daredevil and Tomb of Dracula.
We killed the rest of the time by winding our way across Portland. At one point, we drove past Union Station, Portland’s train depot. “I’ve never been on a train,” Tiffany said. I told her that I made at least one trip when I was a boy. I’ve considered making others now that I’m adult, but I never remember that it’s an option. There’s something romantic about a train, you know?
Here are my train memories (and they’re few):
- I’m young — maybe five or six or seven. My family is at Union Station in Portland to pick up a relative. Grandpa? Mom’s brother? There are people all about, but the place is not full. I don’t know it at the time, but the place feels old-fashioned. Looking back, I remember high ceilings and shiny floors and architecture of the twenties or thirties or forties. I ought to be fascinated with the trains, like Jeff is, but I’m fascinated by the comic books instead. There’s a rack of them at a newsstand, and I look through the ones I can reach.
- I’m still young — am I in school yet? I’m down at Grandpa’s house. He’s babysitting me. We’re by ourselves. We drive to Canby and we stop at the train station where we wait for somebody to arrive. The Canby train station is nothing more than a platform, really, a wooden structure with a couple of benches and a ticket booth. I’m very excited to see the train.
- I’m in first grade. All of us in Mrs. Onion’s class are participating in a patriotic Bicentennial pageant. We boys wear powdered wigs and march in circles singing “My Country ‘Tis of Thee”. We learn about George Washington and Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. One day Dad takes us to see the Freedom Train. We park near the Oregon City Marina (why? — Mom, do you remember?) and wait to watch the train race by. Dad helps me place a penny on the track. After the train passes, I have a flattened piece of copper (or zinc, as the case may be) that I treasure for years.
- I’m in second grade. Mrs. Vogeltanz is taking the class on a field trip to the State Capitol building in Salem. We don’t take the bus. We four blocks from Eccles school to the train platform. We get on the train and we ride to Salem. It’s very exciting, especially for the boys. We look out the windows, watch the fields go by. We disembark just a couple of blocks from the capitol. I don’t remember anything else about the field trip other than we got to ride the train home, too. A field trip on a train, not on a bus.
That’s it. I have four memories of the train. Yet, like the children I know now (especially Antonio), I romanticize the train. I always think to myself that someday I will ride it again. Kris and I have discussed taking the train to see a Mariners game, but we’ve always rejected the idea as too expensive. I’ve considered a train trip to Minneapolis to see Dana, but I’ve never explored the cost or time. What if we took a train trip to see Kris’ family?
I want to love the train, to have more memories of it, but I probably never will.
On 30 April 2004 (12:41 PM),
Lynn said:
On 30 April 2004 (12:59 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:
Now I’ll have to be sure to watch the news tonight and read the newspaper coverage of the Perez trial tomorrow. Good going, Kris!
I’m not sure why you would have parked near the Oregon City marina to watch the Freedom Train go by, J.D., other than that it’s a place where the highway is really close to the train tracks and they’re safely and easily accessible.
Jeff is more likely to remember a train trip as I took him with me to Utah on one occasion via the train. He may have only been about 7 at the time, though. I’m thinking I may have taken Tony one other time and he would have been even younger then. I think you got left out, J.D. My apologies. :-) I don’t remember much more about family members going on trains other than a trip I made alone after my grandfather died, but then my aging grey matter sometimes doesn’t produce the appropriate memories.
On 30 April 2004 (01:02 PM),
pril said:
my dad always took me to TravelTown at Griffith Park (in LA) when i was small. What a blast that was. He loved trains and still does! One thing i remember was a trip to San Diego, we took the Amtrak. Dad got hold of the engineer and asked if he could see the inside of the cab. The guy said sure and let both of us come in and sit in his seat in the cab for a few minutes. I was thrilled.. my dad … i’m sure he probably nearly soiled himself with glee over that.
Down here in CB the local rail fan club is rebuiling Engine 104- a Baldwin 2-8-2 built in 192sth to run timber from Powers to Coos Bay. It sure is neat! I heard they are going to get it running instead of just doing the cosmetics, and i really do hope they get it running.
I love to stand down by the docks at the railyard and watch the trains. And now it’s even better, since the Lady Washington is docked there, too, for a couple of days (fully working replica of an 18th century barque like the ones that explored the coast here).
On 30 April 2004 (02:06 PM),
Dana said:
When I was at Willamette, I took the train back and forth from Boise a few times (because of the weirdness of the train schedules, I had to take a bus from Salem to Portland in order to avoid a 23 hour layover…). I eventually stopped when a train back after a Christmas break was 10 hours late because of snow in the Blues. From then until I got my own car I took the bus, which was far far far less comfortable, but never got stuck because of weather. Blech.
When I was sent to England for work (which was pretty fun, really) we took a train from Gatwick to London, swapped to the tube, then swapped back to another train which went from London to Leeds. Quite fun and comfortable, even if not always exactly on time…
More recently, at Christmas 2002, when I was last in the Pacific Northwest, I took the train from Seattle down to Portland. It was a fantastic trip for lots of reasons — they showed a movie, every seat had power outlets, and all kinds of keen things. I’ve heard they are putting (or perhaps already have put) wi-fi in the cars, too, and I know they have an option to bring a bicycle along.
This would be the same train JD and Kris would take to see a Mariner’s game, by the way…
To get here looks like a two-day trip by train. Leave late on a Friday, get in early on a Sunday, frex — you’d need a sleeping compartment or you’d have to sleep in your seat (which, granted, are fairly comfortable).
On 30 April 2004 (03:06 PM),
Jeff. said:
Mom said: Jeff is more likely to remember a train trip as I took him with me to Utah on one occasion via the train. He may have only been about 7 at the time, though.
Actually, I was 10 (I think I was in Utah for my 11th birthday). I know it had to be just after Raiders of the Lost Ark came out, because I remember thinking that Uncle Frank (with his stubly beard) looked just like Indiana Jones.
I main things I remember about the train ride was the long stretches of sparse vegetation through Central Oregon and Idaho.
I have a few other memories of trains:
-I remember going into the Canby Depot with Grandpa. I think it is the same memory JD has, but I distinctly remember the old, white, drinking fountains inside the depot; so I’m pretty sure I went inside.
-I remember being able to hear the train whistle blowing even though we were 5 miles away from the tracks.
-I remember being at the Oregon City Marina (South of Canemah) and us boys getting to close to the tracks as a train was passing by. Boy was dad ever mad at us (now I understand why).
On 30 April 2004 (04:41 PM),
Mom (Sue) said:
You were 10? I told you my rememberer wasn’t much good. :-/ Do you remember the fights between your Grandma McClellan and Aunt Jo that took place during that trip? That’s mostly what I remember about it, although we also took you to Saltair, a big amusement park near Salt Lake, as well as to the Salt Lake zoo. I remember you having a nice time (and I would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the fights) but you were a dream to take with me — good as gold.
On 30 April 2004 (04:55 PM),
Andrew Parker said:
I remember the Mrs. Vogeltanz field trip — barely — and recall that we had to write haikus about the trip. Very Canby, very 70s.
The tracks ran along the property line behind our rear pasture. My sister and a few other kids smashed countless pennies and at least one precious quarter back there, and of course we heard the soft rumble (and occasionally a whistle) late every night and early every morning…
Down here one of the old freight lines into San Jose has been revitalized into a high-tech commuter route, acerail.com. Geeks love it!
On 01 May 2004 (09:26 AM),
mac said:
This past Christmas, Pam and I took the train from Flagstaff, AZ to Los Angeles, CA to see our families. It was an overnight train, but we didn’t want to spring for the sleeper car because the seats were supposed to be “fairly comfortable.” It was the worst trip I’ve ever taken in my life. When we got on the train, they told us it was overbooked and that we’d have to wait in the lounge car until people got off at the next couple of stops. So Pam and I slept on the floor of the lounge car, amidst the old french fries and fast food wrappers, for about an hour and a half. When we got our 2 seats, Pam found hers totally uncomfortable and spent the remaining 8 hours on the floor between two rows of seats. I would take a train to Seattle, but never a longer trip unless I had a sleeper car.
On 01 May 2004 (02:49 PM),
Paul said:
Listened to Kris’ testimony last night on Oregonlive.com. Kris, you sounded very professional. I kind of chuckled though at the word “baggie”. It’s such a loaded word. The word baggie connotes illicit contents (of course there’s crack or pot in a “baggie”).
Though I was fairly well integrated with my classmates in grade school, by the time I reached junior high I had gravitated toward a clique of geeks. Junior high is a time of cliques. I spent all of high school striving to transcend these cliques and never quite succeeded; all I did was alienate my existing friends. (Fortunately, college offered a fresh start.)
Dave and I were best friends from fifth to eighth grades. We lived close enough to do a lot of stuff together. And we did. We played D&D, we went hydrotubing, we argued the merits of comic books (I liked Marvel, he liked DC), we played computer games together on our VIC-20s. Later, we listened to music together. (The first time I heard Michael Jackson’s Thriller was in Dave’s room.) Dave and I had a falling out in high school. Or, more precisely, I underwent a drastic change, became (as Dave puts it) “a Bible-thumping sheep” and discarded old friends. For a time, we hated each other. We’ve patched things up over the last decade, though, and now
Andrew and I were in Mrs. Onion’s first grade class. We weren’t geeks then, of course; we were squirrely little munchkins, just like all the other boys. As we grew, I spent some time at his house. I remember seeing Star Wars with him once. I remember fishing for crawdads in his creek at one birthday party. I remember that his family owned a single-volume version of The Lord of the Rings made up to look like The Red Book of Westmarch. I remember that in the late seventies his father had, in the house, some sort of computer that could dial in with a modem to play a networked D&D game with wire-frame graphics. As we grew older, Andrew became less squirrely, more stoic. Still, his birthday parties were always fun. One year, Dave and I pitched together to buy Andrew the live Styx album, Caught in the Act. That was the year we all stayed up late watching Octopussy. Andrew left Canby for Lakeridge (or Lake Oswego?) after his sophomore year of high school. He went to Stanford for college and now brings the world lots of exciting gadgets as the VP for product development at
Ah, John Kern. I haven’t seen John in twenty years. I always thought John and I were very similar — smart but prone to stupid things. He and I could be very silly together. John lived in Charbonneau, a wealthy community between Canby and Wilsonville. I loved to go over to his house because it was so enormous and beautiful. John didn’t go to Canby for high school; he went to LaSalle, and gradually the rest of us geeks lost touch with him. In junior high, he held two computer parties. We all brought our machines over to his house and stayed up all night doing geeky computer stuff. (Or at least as geeky as you could get with
I met Darren in fifth grade, drawn to him because he was interested in comic books. For a couple of years, we were pretty good friends. I spent a lot of time at his house playing D&D (and Villains and Vigilantes — or was it Champions?), leafing through his comic books (like Dave, he preferred DC), and playing on his
Mitch was a strange duck, but I liked him a lot. (After all, he introduced me to
Jonathan was a kid that everybody loved. He was certainly a geek, and part of our group, but he was also cool enough to hang around with the regular kids. The teachers loved him because he didn’t goof around. Rather, he goofed around, but he knew when to stop. He was the funniest in our group (though John Kern was close). He was a great joke-teller and song-singer. One day in
Poor Jeremy Martin. He was most certainly part of our group; he was a geek, and in all of our classes. But just as the other kids picked on us, we picked on Jeremy. He carried his Dungeons and Dragons books with him to every class. He didn’t try to hide his geekiness. Most of us knew enough to try to pretend we weren’t geeky, even though everyone knew we were. Jeremy had no shame. So we picked on him as others picked on us. Still, I liked him. I went over to his house to play
Dave was my best friend for the four years beginning in fifth grade. Paul was my best friend for the following four years. Neither of us can remember how we met. Apparently we knew each other in junior high because he signed my yearbook. It wasn’t until our freshman year that we began to hang out together, and by our sophomore year, he was my best friend. (Tom Stewart was another best friend for Paul, I think.) Whereas I was staid and liked planning, Paul was all about spontaneity and fun. The combination worked well. We also had great arguments about life, the universe, and everything. Once, after a Newberg-Canby football game, we sat in the car and argued about the nature of God for more than an hour. (I was for God, he was against). By our senior years, we were so in-sync that once, while were driving down a country road, he began to tell me something and I said “I know” — “How do you even know what I was going to say?” he asked. We compared notes. I had known what he was going to say, though it was a completely unrelated to our previous conversation. Paul and I have kept in contact (with varying degrees of closeness) all our adult lives. It’s always great to get together with him. He still brings spontaneity to my well-ordered life. Paul’s a regular commenter around here.
I never knew Tamara well. She was a sweet, good-natured girl who was in all of the advanced classes with us geeks. We had a teasing kind of acquaintance, each of us making fun of the other. She was important to me mainly because first Dave and then Paul had a crush on her. It was strange to go from one best friend to the other and to have both of them infatuated with Tamara. I didn’t keep in touch with Tamara after high school, but for a couple of years in the mid-nineties I’d bump into her at concerts and events around Canby. She was happily married, had adopted a child, and was running a
While both Dave and Paul had a crush on Tamara Brunson, I had one on Tami Sale, my dentist’s daughter. Tami made my heart ache, and I’ll bet she never knew it. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was popular. And, best of all, she was nice to me. She didn’t treat me like dirt. We had a computer class together in eighth grade, and sometimes we’d collaborate on projects. I went to the eighth grade graduation dance — my first dance — solely because I knew she’d be there. I asked her to dance three times, and she said “yes” every time. We danced to “Open Arms” by Journey, and for the entire summer I melted whenever I heard that song. Poor Dave had to put up with me pining for Tami Sale all summer long. Then high school came along and I forgot all about Tami. I saw her in class, of course, but my crush had evaporated. Ironically, we were cast as husband and wife in the play our senior year (
There’s a new Amtrak station in Oregon City now. We (my mom, my niece and I) are thinking about going to Seattle for a girls’ weekend. I’ve heard the prices aren’t too bad, but haven’t checked into them yet. I considered a train ride to Ashland to the Shakespeare festival, but the schedules didn’t work out. That is a trip I would still like to take.