Once upon a time, Hillary Clinton wrote that "It Takes a Village". With all due respect to our Secretary of State, I beg to differ. All it takes is an amalgam of 705 water district users, 2 convenience stores, 2 taverns, 2 traffic signals, 1 espresso stand, 1 gas station, 1 barbershop, 1 post office, and a steadfast refusal to be politically or even geographically defined. That is Boring, the land of continuous excitement, and Mount Hood's gateway to Clackamas County. Within that aggregation rise a few warm hearts who, over the years have contributed significantly to the pleasantries along a bi-way of life, known to the outside world as Oregon Highway 212. They are the focus of this month's entry.
Barristas and bartenders must have the same degrees hanging somewhere in their establishments, though I've yet to spot them. Mixology is one that's mandatory. To be successful, both have to know the deft touches for the perfect blend of flavors, and if they know their patrons well enough, they don't ever have to ask what the latter would like to quaff. They already know, just as they already know their clienteles' favored conversational topics while the drinks are being prepared. Our own barrista of ten years, Jeff, also has this vital degree in communications. Its a cinch that he runs through his own mental checklist every morning as we drive up: the San Francisco Giants, the University of Portland Pilots, our two-mile daily constitutional on the Springwater Trail, etc. And when he invariably asks us, "How's it going?", he's genuinely interested in our answer. There is nowhere else on the planet where you can enjoy up-beat conversation while purchasing the tastiest of double lattes with sugar-free vanilla; all for the almost-embarrassingly modest tab of $2.50. Take that, Starbucks. Espresso Depot (hard by the post office) rules!
The year we retired from the ed. biz was also the year that Annie retired as my personal barber. Yours truly did not have to venture far to find her successor. Enter Wendy, proprietor of Wendy's Salon. The first thing a newcomer notices on entering this establishment is not the old-timey barber's chair. No No. The big game hunter family patriarch has seen to that. What greets you fore-most are the trophies, hung from three quarters of the walls of the business; heads of a cape water buffalo, zebra, and wart hog, for example. She is a Cezanne with Scissors, especially when it comes to the limited distribution on this writer's dome. Her popularity demonstrates that the "Salon" designation hardly dissuades legions of greybeards from frequenting her shop. Her artistry includes the all-important attention to the eyebrows, lest they become "caterpillars", burgeoning above the baby blues. Wendy, like our barrista, has a corresponding advanced degree in communications. Your scribe just recently learned that his "every-other-Friday-gal" married into a family of former professional hockey players, who once played for the old Portland Buckaroos. What a gab bonanza for the future! Coif-clipping, beard briefing are, of course, standard entrees on her menu. Ahh- but throw in guy-pedicures, and you've definitely changed the name of the game...though it must be confessed that I've yet to avail myself of this added dimension. One is obliged to ask, where else in the free world can you have all of these services provided...in a museum of natural history?!
Presenting Helen Priority and Kristi First-Class; Boring's Marvels of Mail. These ladies have special gifts which raise a p.o. trip to a plane above the mundane. Among them are ever-ready smiles, words of levity and good cheer. Not only that, they both are endowed with...let's call it "postal prescience", that for them foretells the exact request a customer will have before he even gives voice to it, ie.; "Are you here to pick up your mail?", which is almost invariably accompanied by "Where did your travels take you this time?" Patrons come into their place of business by the fives and tens every day. How could either of them possibly suspect that this scribe had been travelling? (Others might have presumed that I had been engaged in a covert CIA operation.) "Care to resume delivery?" "Would you like cash back with your stamps?" Considering the vast array of services their employer provides, no ordinary, mortal clerk could possibly anticipate the specific need without an uncanny sixth sense. It has to be much more than female intuition. What's more, they are dear hearts. Three years ago, the Bride and I formulated a ten-year plan to vacate this abode, and transition to something more amenable to the inevitable. The plan was to attack one room in our house each year, and eliminate all things within that we both agreed would be superfluous in the smaller picture. Truth to tell, we have yet to confront that first room. It's good people, such as these Boring Personalities, that make it easier to just kick back, forget the plan, and continue to smell the roses.
y
