Travel Log # 13 USA, Portland, Oregon

Flying into Portland and again leaving I had beautiful, spectacular views of the mountains. Mt Hood and Mt St. Helen. The mountain pictures I took from my seat on the plane, through the window!

I’ve been to Portland, Oregon several times so I’ve been to the beautiful Rose Garden, The Grotto, the Pittock Mansion, Multnoma Falls, Mt. Hood, the Colombia River and I’ve been to the ocean and more. This trip I wasn’t a tourist. I went for my sister’s memorial service.

So I saw the city of Portland… As we drove through the city on different occasions and to different locations I kept my eyes and ears open to see what I could see and hear. I saw big buildings; big bridges; interesting shops; men with backpacks and/or signs asking for work or a handout; residential areas; big, beautiful, old mansions.

Lorraine’s house was in a district of all big, beautiful, old, mansions! She called her house a ‘gingerbread house’ because it wasn’t big like the others but it was just as charming.

Seeing men on bikes or walking with dirty, oversized clothes and scrubby whiskers and beards, backpacks slung across their shoulders, hanging down their backs was very sad and disturbing. They were probably veterans. Let me describe one man I saw a couple of times. His clothes were old, raggedy, dirty; his hair long and wild, his full beard even longer. He was riding a bike. Plastic bags, filled with ‘who knows what’, were tied on the bike, hanging from every available spot. He had a helmet on. That was good. Well, it was actually the hard foam lining of a helmet. It was better then nothing. The second time I saw him he was in the parking lot of Applebee’s! I wasn’t eating there, just driving by. I wondered if he was going through the garbage for his supper. I thought about buying  supper for him but I was a passenger in the car, not the driver. I thought about taking his picture…I just couldn’t do it. He needs to be respected not made into a spectacle. My heart went out to him. He’s now in my prayers. I don’t know his name but God does.

I went to a very busy meat market. I was with my niece, Christine. As we were walking in, a man was coming out. He put his hand out and said, “I can’t wait for my turn, here, take my number.” # 89. The place was packed so this was a huge help to us!  It was a very interesting and popular meat market.

My sister’s ashes were buried in the Veteran’s Cemetery beside her late husband. It’s a huge cemetery and the most interesting, beautiful, scenic, manicured cemetery I’ve ever been to.                                                        A new stone with both their names on will be placed in about a month.  Live Life Loud will be engraved on it! I like that. Her first husband, Bob, is also buried in this cemetery.

Portland is a beautiful city with beautiful people…especially my nieces and their families!