Why I love Portland

This is why I love Portland. Today my mom and I ventured to a brand new coffee shop around the corner from our house. When they handed us our lattes I couldn’t help but notice the heart, painted in the coffee foam. This is why I love Portland. When I was out to ice cream with a friend downtown the other night, we sat in the park and watched a clown make balloon hats for little kids, while an acapella group spontaneously performed for folks lounging under the trees. This is why I love Portland. When I walked past the bookstore earlier this week, I saw a homeless man hunched over a bright array of colored Starbucks lids as he carefully painted an elaborate “anything helps” sign complete with trees and a sunset. This is why I love Portland. Two weeks ago I met a friend on the east side for big bowls of mac and cheese from a favorite food cart. We huddled around our steaming bowls of cheesy elbows in the pouring rain–happy as clams. This is why I love Portland. Last weekend we found a lost dog on our trail run, which was running with another group of runners, before catching up with us, before circling back to catch up with another group and their dog, before finally finding it’s owner. This is why I love Portland. Yesterday, when I met a friend for coffee, I overheard a guy behind me say, “I don’t know, I can’t make any decisions until I have some caffeine.” This is why I love Portland. When we went out to dinner mid week, we were seated next to our next-door neighbors and ended up pushing our tables together. This is why I love Portland. When it was sunny and almost 85 degrees I heard someone at the store say, “I can’t stand this heat. What awful weather.” This is why I love Portland. Bikes outnumber cars. This is why I love Portland. 

When someone cuts you off on the freeway, chances are you know them. This is why I love Portland. When I need to be across town in 15 minutes, I always make it. This is why I love Portland. When I am walking on the sidewalk downtown, I typically have to step into the street to get around the bikes that are piled a mile high on the bike racks. This is why I love Portland. When I am buying something, there is no sales tax and so I don’t have to do any math. This is why I love Portland. When someone comes up to me on the street, they want me to vote, save the polar bears or adopt a sea otter. This is why I love Portland. Now it is summer and I can finally go out and pick up fresh veggies and big armfuls of flowers from the Saturday market. This is why I love Portland. When I get up early and head out for a run, I see Dave’s Killer Bread being delivered by Dave himself. This is why I love Portland. When it rains, no one carries an umbrella. This is why I love Portland. When I am grocery shopping I run into Nike coach and famed distance runner Alberto Salazar in the produce section. This is why I love Portland. When you stop at a drinking fountain, there is another fountain at your feet for your dog. This is why I love Portland. When the clouds clear on a perfect day, you can see the snow topped peaks of Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Hood. This is why I love Portland. It is green for as far as the eye can see. This is why I love Portland. You can go to the beach and head up to the mountains in the same day. This is why I love Portland. And at any time–day or night–you can always find someone to share a cup. This is why I love Portland.

This cup is for all my Portland Peeps (who love this city as much as I do)

Smooth Sailing

Cannon Beach: Mostly windy, always perfect.

There are days when you go and visit the ocean and the water is perfectly still and there is not a breeze in the air–the ocean looks like a sheet of glass. It is on those days that you wish you had some wind to ruffle your sails and push you in the right direction. You can be stuck in still waters for what seems like an eternity. It doesn’t matter if your compass points you in the right direction or not because you aren’t moving. Everyday you hope and wait for the perfect breeze to carry you out toward the horizon, toward new places and the great unknown.

When you are waiting in the stillness you don’t think about how strong that first gale will feel when it finally reaches your sails. When it hits, you grab onto the rails and hold on for the ride. Inside, your heart beats as it tries to keep up with your nerves, and you rely on your compass, your past experiences, and your intuition to guide the sails through the breakers. When the waves pick up, you suddenly think back to the calm quiet water and are surprised by how quickly the winds changed and the waters transformed.

By now you probably think, she has a metaphor for everything. But it is true, there are some days where I feel like I am in a sailboat waiting for the waters to pick up, and then before I know it, whoosh! I am on my way! For me, that day was today, and I am always excited when the winds pick up and you can feel changes brewing in the air. No matter where your compass points, something amazing is bound to be just around the corner–over the horizon.

One of my favorite quotes of all time is by Mark Twain who once said, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” I have lots of friends that are getting ready for big waves–myself included. It is an exciting time and we are ready. And for those of you that are still waiting for your perfect breeze, don’t worry, I assure you, it’s coming. Be ready.

This cup is for Sam (I am so proud of you)

And for Joel and Rocky (who helped bring in the trade winds

to get me out of the harbor–for that I am eternally grateful)

Happy Mother's Day–to mine and yours

Earlier this year I wrote an essay for a class that integrated a person with a place. Both this person and this place take up most of the real estate in my heart. Happy Mothers Day to all the fabulous moms out there––especially mine.


Integration Paper
RE: My mom and the ocean

By: Rudy Shaffer
February 17, 2012

         When you meet my mom, one of the first things you might notice is her sense of humor. Maybe you would be drawn to her bright green eyes. Maybe you would be awe struck that never in her life has she dyed her shiny red hair and at the age of almost sixty there is not a single hint of grey. Maybe you would notice her style– her cool boots, her neat jewels, or her cozy sweaters. Maybe if you were to pass her in a room, you would get a small whiff of her jeannate perfume. Maybe if you had the pleasure of sitting down with her over a cup of tea you would be impressed by her resume, the way she looks you straight in the eye when you are talking and listens from the heart. And maybe, just maybe, when you meet my mom, you would think to yourself, “I want to be her best friend.” Lucky for me, I am.

            I can honestly say that we have been best friends since my birth. Growing up, unlike most parents, my mom worked from home. While not as glamorous as it sounds, being self-employed is incredibly hard work. Luckily for my mom, she has built her career around her relationships and worked her way up the ladder from a copy editor to a published author.  Along the way she has endured loss, rejection, and penny pinching with grace, dignity and strength. She has earned herself numerous awards, recognition and praise for the creativity she brings to every story.  She always has a medley of characters swirling around in her head and comes up with a slew of good ideas daily that can range anywhere from home re-model (just recently she re-modeled our downstairs) to future books (many of which are in the works). It might take you a long time to learn that she keeps a journal, loves rhododendrons and can’t start her day without an extra big mug of milky earl grey tea. Her ideal company is our yellow lab. While she might not say it out loud, she happens to think that nail polish and mascara are about as much trouble as keeping up with the weeds and her most devout practice is tuning into “Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me, on Saturday mornings. When she isn’t listening to NPR, engrossed in a New Yorker or buried in manuscript, we escape to the beach–the Oregon Coast. The Oregon Coast is my very favorite place. A few months back my mom was interviewed for a magazine about the life and thoughts of a writer. The interviewee asked, “When you die, what do you hope to be in your next life?” My mom responded, “A yellow lab on the beach, carrying a great big stick.”

The Oregon Coast is different from your typical beach. For one thing, most of the year it is cloudy–cloudy in a beautiful way –the kind of clouds that set in over the beach and the evergreens and create a pallet of silver and grey mist. At first glance, one might call it rain and cancel their trip. However, if you get a chance to know the fog, step out onto the shore and breath in the cool dew, it suddenly doesn’t seem so cold and damp. However, these clouds aren’t for everyone and so you will find only true fog fanatics out on the sand (usually accompanied by a yellow lab holding a big stick).

The ocean is a deep sea green. The kind of sea green you can’t capture in a picture or a painting, but the kind of green that you can see in my mom’s eyes in just the right light. The motion of the ocean is the kind of breakers that don’t invite you in for a swim and is so cold it rattles the spine. And still, it is too tempting not to stick your toe in the tide as it washes up onto the sand–the same kind of allure that my mom brings to the first few pages of a book. Occasionally, there can be a day when the sun peeks out through the clouds, clears the mist and warms the face. These days are few and far between, but can be found scattered throughout the year (in February or July). If you are patient, and pay close attention to small details (as my mom always does) you can sometimes find a small shell or a sand dollar (a treasure for your pocket). When a storm hits, or a deadline, chaos can churn the waters and in hours it can blow by.

It is when the sun fades behind the clouds and darkness sets in, that beach fires scatter the coastline. The warmth of the flame reminds me of all the family dinners my mom hosts at our house. The glow of the fire reminds me of the porch light that is always on (as she waits for me to get home).  The crackle and pop of the cinders reminds me of my moms laugh as she throws her head back and closes her eyes. The spark and sizzle of the embers reminds me of the twinkle in her eye that lights up when she has an idea or something to share. At the coast (and in life), we are never short of cozy blankets and good stories thanks to my mom. She will never pass up a burnt hotdog or a walk on the beach (no matter how windy, wet or cold).

            One of my mom’s favorite stories is the Owl and the Pussy Cat by Edward Lear. Lear writes, “And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, they danced in the light of the moon, the moon. They danced in the light of the moon.” If you want to become best friends with my mom, best friends like the Owl and the Pussy Cat, this is a relationship that will come with a long-term investment. She is the only person I know that has life long friends that she has kept forever (since before kindergarten). Every Thursday she writes to someone she has lost track of or hasn’t heard from. These folks can range from her grade school classmates to old neighbors to lost family friends. If you want to become friends with my mom, maybe she will invite you over for a cup of tea. Or maybe, if you find yourself at the beach and are really lucky, you can spot her in the fog, strolling along on the sand. 

This cup is for my mom (my best friend) 

And for all the other fabulous moms I know–you inspire me everyday

When all the plates stack up...

How do your plates stack up?

In today’s society, where the sky is the limit and the possibilities are endless, how does one manage to make the right decision, feel confident making that decision, and move forward, even if it wasn’t the best choice?

Earlier this week I was at a sushi bar–conveyor belt style–where (not unlike life) the possibilities were endless, and you had to go with your gut instinct, work fast and make a decision (on which plate to choose) before the option passed you by. At the end of lunch, my friend turned to me looking at her stack of empty plates and said, “I didn’t make good decisions.” I inquired “Really? It all looked really good and mine was good.” She signed “Well–they weren’t bad decisions–they were just alright decisions–but overall it was good.”

The sushi conveyor belt (just like life) responds to all different approaches to making tough decisions on impulse. Some people sit and stare as the multi-colored plates holding all kinds of wrapped fish, seaweed and rice, as it circles around and around. Some look nervous and intimidated, as though the plates might bite. Others take a long time looking over the menu, planning their lunch, and deciding in what order each plate will be eaten. Others grab and stash, taking as many plates as they want, mixing and matching without a care in the world. Some rely on advice, help from a friend, a chef special, or a recommendation. And some choose based on the color–or appearance (or in my case, what looks kind of recognizable or familiar). With sushi, you can go with what you know, or you can risk everything to try something new. It is the perfect meal for a familiar favorite or an adventure into the unknown.

As the conveyor belt continues to circle, you might see the perfect plate of sushi coming your way, but somehow you manage to get distracted, you flinch, and you can’t decide. In the end, you let it go. The only hope that you have is that the plate comes around again, and if it doesn’t, you hope something like it does (and scold yourself saying, “I should have taken that plate”). Hopefully a nice person took it. In the end, some of the sushi rolls are better than others. Every taste bud is different, but we took our chances when we reached for the conveyor belt and held the chopsticks up to our mouth. And as all the plates begin to stack up, there is no going back, no should have, could have, or would have. We made our choice–the plates don’t lie.

You can begin to see why the sushi conveyor belt is a metaphor for life. Over sushi we tried to tackle the hard questions: Is this the right time? Is this the normal thing to do? What is normal? Does this feel right? When? How? Now? We discussed the  (real life) advice, the specials, the recommendations, the must tries, and the personal experiences, that we received from others. We complained about the “bad plates” the rough days, the hard stuff (the cracks, and breaks), and the setbacks. We wondered about the future–down the line (after all our plates stacked up) how will we feel? We pondered choices, options, decisions made, and decisions in the making. As the lunch hour times out, we pay for our plates–both at lunch and in life. As for the plates that life throws our way–maybe at a much bigger price–but there is always more where that came from. 

This cup is for Jfro (who can juggle the most plates of anyone I know)

and for Caitlin (who encouraged me to write this up for my blog and who always has a full plate of cool things going on)

Go celebrate with a favorite cup!

Timeless

The Taj Mahal

There are people and places I consider timeless. The kind of timeless that will never change, never grow old, and never die. These people and places are eternal–everlasting. Today I got news that a long time family friend is sick. She is eighty years old. To me, her style, her runway walk, her thick dark sunglasses and her jet-black hair couldn’t possibly age. I just assumed she would always be well. I just assumed she would never grow old. But one should never assume anything. These assumptions are not reality. The reality is that none of us are timeless. But I sometimes wish we were.

There are some people in my life that I wish would be here forever. I am not sure how they would feel about that, but I honestly can’t imagine the world without them. I can’t imagine my world without them. There are certain places and people that I just want to freeze frame, press pause, and hold onto forever. I don’t want the conversations to end. I don’t want them to miss out on all the amazing things that are going on in the world. And as selfish as this may sound, I need them here for advice, support, friendship, and love. I need them here for me.

I recently read an article that the Taj Mahal is falling apart. Last year, I was lucky enough to see the Taj Mahal in person. As I walked across the cold marble floors, I took in its massive scale, its intricate design, and endless beauty. It was stunning. I can’t imagine India without the Taj Mahal. I can’t imagine a world without the Taj Mahal–to me it is timeless. How could something so iconic, so grand, so massive, and so historic, wither away?

The arctic is melting, polar bears are dying, mountains are liquefying, rain forests are getting cut down–the list goes on and on. All of these things I just assumed would always be here and would remain timeless– again, never assume. Just like a popular brand, a hit song, a style, or a trend–everything eventually gets old, fades away, and only lives on through stories, pictures, and memories.

There is a famous quote about life that says, “No one gets out alive.” This is a stark reminder that none of us will be here forever. The best thing we can do is to get a move on, make the most of everyday, and soak up every minute of our timeless favorites with our timeless favorites, because (just like anything else) they won’t last forever.

Raise your cup: This is for timeless favorites–both mine and yours.