Skip to main content

Hot Time

This has all the hallmarks of a long hot summer.  Start with the literal.  Here in Oregon, the record for consecutive 90+ degrees was not broken, it was smashed...with authority.  No rain here in Portland for over a month and though the city's beautiful parks still have greenery, the grass is turning brown.  Maybe a thunder shower or two will stop by this evening, but things are dry and getting dryer.
Last week I drove up to one of my favorite little lakes on Mt. Hood to do a little fly fishing for the first time this year.  The water temperature in the morning was well over 70 degrees and even at 7:30 in the morning, there was very little fish movement.  Only a few half-hearted rises and no interest in a dry fly whatsoever.  I managed to hook three in a two hour period, while landing only one.  The other two came unbuttoned either because they only nibbled at my nymph or because I was deliberately taking it easy on them and opted for the quicker release.  Either way, I went in early and called it a day before noon.
Hopefully things will straighten out before Fall arrives.  August appears a real desert right now.  We'll see what Central Oregon has to offer in a few weeks.  The altitude might be just the ticket, because there are a few places with shreds of snow remaining.  Even just looking at it might make the weather more endurable.

But while Portlanders have a difficult time with 90 degree weather, it's still nothing compared to a summer in Texas or Louisiana or any number of East Coast cities built on swamps.  We get a bit of humidity now and then, but more often than not, the heat is not as intense and besides, this is Beervana, so we have ample opportunity to mitigate the issue  in our favorite pubs.  Air conditioning helps too.
The Presidential campaign too has sparked a few outrageous thoughts recently.  Donald Trump is such a wonderful representative of the worst our culture has to offer.  His values spill out of the convoluted musings he utters daily.  To my refined educator's sense, he has no editor, his comments are unrehearsed, right off his expensive cuffs.  The question persists: For whom does he speak?  Could there be millions that share his racism, his misguided greed and his inflated sense of self-importance?  Probably.
And in the other corner sits Bernie Sanders.  Bernie has lit the fire under a simmering middle-class.  I'd love to see them go toe to toe.  That might heat up the air waves.  A good bit more than the luke-warm lessers of evil we will have in the end.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Writing on the Wall

       The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom.  As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending.  A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably.  On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read"                     This is a Teepee to take a pee pee,                         Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom      14 year-old humor at it's best.  The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic.  Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom.  Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...