Seven Days of Portland Life

Damn you, Dad.

You see, my father was in town last week for seven days, and he wore us ragged. I haven't consumed so much alcohol, eaten such a quantity of rich food, and stayed so busy in what seems like over a year...

In the few days since he went back to his home town of Crescent City (a sleepy ocean-side community in Northern Cali), I've mostly lain about in my pj's avoiding contact with the outside world, fasting to lose the 15 lbs. I gained, and nursing a persistent hangover.

Now I don't want to spoil his blog (coming soon, hopefully) detailing our adventures too much, but I thought I'd paint some broad brushstrokes, toss in a few tidbits of interesting trivia/observations that he may miss, and leave the meat of the story to his forthcoming, sure-to-be epic tale.

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Where to begin...I've got this Ticketmaster pouch stuffed to the gills with napkin scraps, bar receipts, ticket stubs, sticky-notes, and Djarum box inserts, all hurriedly scribbled upon with notes from the week Dad was in the Stump. This isn't looking pretty...

Thursday

-Dad rolls in around midnight:30, we share a few bottles of Mac's Amber Ale, shoot the shit, and hit the hay fairly early in comparison to all nights from here on out...

Friday

-No trip to Portland is complete without rolling to Freddy's (Fred Meyer for all you ignoramuses), stocking up on beer and food, the latter item being completely unnecessary, as we ate out nearly every meal.

-Did the Powell's City of Books thing, another mandatory stop. Dad purchased every Umberto Eco book written and spent the next week wondering what the fuck was going on in Baudolino. I picked up Michael Munk's The Portland Red Guide, J. Maarten Troost's The Sex Lives of Cannibals, and Jonathan Lethem's Men and Cartoons, and Orson Scott Card's The Crystal City (Jeff told you I'm a nerd like that).

-Grubbed on Reuben sandwiches, matzah ball soup, and phosphates at Kornblatt's Delicatessen.

-Happily got lost driving around Portland's many great North and Northeast neighborhoods.

-Stopped off at an Ethiopian market on MLK, and almost purchased a 6 lb. bag of injera (their culture's staple food, made from teff flour).

-Very much enjoyed the happy hour at Cafe Wonder (stiff $2 well-drinks, killer fucking fries).

-Assaulted mounds of southern food at Russell Street Bar-B-Que...Beef brisket w/Classic Virginia Sauce (heavenly, perfectly cooked and seasoned), corn bread (a bit too dry), collard greens (come on guys, it just doesn't work without the meat!), and some of the best mac'n'cheese I've ever devoured.

-Attended the Portland Mercury's annual talent show, Pizzazz, at the Wonder Ballroom. I'll leave it to Pops to report more on this. Suffice to say that City Commissioner Randy Leonard was judging folk's talent (or lack thereof), and the word "Scrabble Bag" was uttered by the host, Wm. Steven Humphrey, in reference to a man's scrotum. Obviously, this quickly became the word of the week.

Saturday

-Rode our bikes down to Rose's for lunch. A better Reuben than Kornblatt's down the street, in my opinion. I also spotted former-Mayor Vera Katz enjoying a meal at the table next to us, dressed incognito with a long-billed gardener's hat pulled down low upon her brow. Wow, she's so tiny...I just wanted to reach out and crush her between my forefinger and thumb.

-Burned off our recent acquisition of an ungodly amount of calories by biking down to the South Waterfront development, then back home along the Eastbank Esplanade (which is named for Vera Katz).

-Tried very hard to order almost everything on the menu at La Terrazza to take advantage of a coupon Dad brought with him, and ended up leaving disturbingly stuffed, a bit soused from the wine, and not very happy with the fact that they advertised freshly-made limonata, but got caught pouring it from a San Pelligrino bottle. Busted, dudes.

-Watched the classic Tarantino/Rodriguez collaboration, From Dusk Till Dawn, at the Laurelhurst, accompanied by a pitcher of Pabst. Such a great movie, but seriously, Sex Machine is the worst character to ever appear on the silver screen. And that's what makes him awesome.

-Hit the bottle hard on a whirlwind tour of some of my favorite bars downtown...

Shanghai Tunnel: If vampires are real, this is where their hipsters hang out.

Kells' cigar basement: Thank you, Mr. Security Guard, for sneaking us in the back door knowing full-well that a $9 cover-charge makes about as much sense as someone giving G. W. Bush his high school diploma.

Someday Lounge: We didn't actually go in here today, but it just reminded me of a time that Jeff and I saw Pigeon John perform here. That dude is a crazy mix of Freddie Kruger and Andre Nickatina. Trust me.

Backspace: Popped our heads in to show Dad this coffee bar/music venue/World of Warcraft geek network/art gallery/tree house.

Ground Kontrol: Tallboys of PBR and TMNT. Unfuckwittable.

Ringlers Annex Cellar Bar: A French Resistance underground honeycomb hideout.

Sunday

-Kes, Dad and I went up to Amboy, WA, grabbed Jeff, then journeyed to the Ape Cave in the heart of Bigfoot country. I'll let Dad fill in the details, but needless to say, there were frog pikas in the darkest depths of the lava tube (one of the longest in North America), my Dad's fart seepage is still killing lost spelunkers, and inexplicably, a sign at the entrance to the cave proclaimed the prohibition of "Butt Raping" down below. Aww, shoot.

-Recharged our cave-weary bones at Sushi Land Marinepolis, a hotbed of Sun Myung Moon cultists. Fuck it, I'll join 'em if they can keep my $1.50 tempura plates coming.

-Relaxed at home with a bottle of wine and watched the romantic comedy, Why We Fight. That affair between Ike and LBJ sure was hot and heavy...if only JFK hadn't of come between them.

Monday

-Politely nibbled nachos and chowed down on chimichangas at the neighborhood Cha! Cha! Cha!, then cradeled cups of coffee at Costello's Travel Caffe up the street.

-Met Kes at Parkrose High and attended the City of Portland Office of Transportation's open house on future Streetcar plans. Geeked out, gave a few suggestions, then stole a couple cookies and a cup 'o Joe on the way out.

-Rode our bikes to Belmont Station's Biercafe to meet Jeff for an Asian beer tasting. Over the next hour we sampled several Indian (Golden Eagle, Haywards 5000, Krait), Chinese (Yanjing), and Laotian (BeerLao) brews, all of which were quite tasty, featuring qualities not usually found in our domestics, with flavors of roasted banana, smoky ash, vanilla malt, and peat bog. The BeerLao was a personal favorite, invoking such varietals as Old English and St. Ides.

-Got our cowboy on at the Laurelhurst, with the so-so 3:10 to Yuma. My friend Matt S. is a major supporting actor, but unfortunately couldn't save this film.

-Enjoyed another drink in the cigar basement at Kells, then headed up to the 30th floor of Big Pink, and dove into the late night happy hour (10pm-close) at the Portland City Grill, ordering 9 appetizers and enough drinks to convince me to steal a lint-roller (what!? why!?) out of the men's bathroom, which I also somehow misplaced on the way home.

Tuesday

-Nursed our hangovers at Costello's once more, lounging about at the house until the evening when we set sail for the Jolly Roger to catch the Blazers' game and watch flies breed. We heart you Sergio (our team's resident gypsy wizard), even if Coach doesn't.

-Joined the Ghosting Tour lead by Portland Underground Tours, a real stinker that I'm sure Dad will fill you all in on. Ron Jeremy was our tour guide, a couple of gypsy girls shanghaied us, and Jeff and I discovered an old opium den while sneaking away from the rest of the group.

Tuesday

-Got up relatively early (1pm) and went on a spiritual journey to the Bagby Hot Springs, located in Yarlsburg, Kentucky (not really, but I don't want to so easily give away it's location...you'll have to do the research yourself if you want to find it). Easily one of the coolest things I've done since moving up to Oregon. Once again, I'll let Dad provide the details on this magical spot. It was featured prominently in last year's Old Joy.

-Smoked a bit of puff on the porch, developed a major craving for ribs, got our hopes dashed when Yam Yam's (made famous by a Mac Dre lyric on local rapper-gone-bad Cool Nutz' Verbal Porn album) was closed due to something called "vacation" and finally landed back at the Russell Street Bar-B-Que.

-Satiated our alchoholic jitters at my favorite dive bar, Lucky's (what Gale's is to Petaluma, Lucky's is to Portland), attempted to drink booze with Johnny Cash at Esparza's (closed...apparently cowboys can't stay up past sunset), and finally settled in for the hard shit at Beulahland, another favorite watering hole.

-Ended the evening, and the adventure, for Dad left early the following morning, with the greatest film ever created, Shaun of the Dead. Oy, prick! Thanks, babe. It's not hip hop, it's electro. Cockacidal maniac. I'm sorry, Shaun. OK, but dogs CAN look up.

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This is how we roll in the 5-0-3. The couch is always waiting.

Rip City Rising?

A new era in Blazers basketball?

Maybe, but the early results remain eerily similar to the previous year's campaign. After three games, the Blazers have yet to chalk up a win and look as lost on the court as Darius Miles looks in the gym. While the season is way too young to draw any conclusions about the team, it is not too early to point out what is wrong and what needs to change.

For one, the point guard position is up in the air, leaving leadership at the position in question. The starter thus far, Jarrett Jack, has managed to make only three shots in as many games. While the point guard does not always have to be counted on to score, his measly three baskets are a cause for concern because he's attempted more than four times that amount. And worse, the most important stat for a PG, the assist, has also eluded him. He has eight assists in 3 games, compared to nine turnovers. And because the point guard is expected to run the offense, his game has effected the rest of the team.

What seems to be troubling the Blazers is their adjustment to a new, fast paced offense, as well as the lack of defense. When the team attempts to push the ball and run the court (again, the PG plays a huge role here), they look confused, tentative and not completely confident in their attack. This often leads to a turnover, poor shot selection, and/or a cluster fuck of people running around without a clue. This is true on defense, as well, where players seem lost or disinterested. This is another reason Jack has disappointed thus far, as his backup, Steve Blake, appears much more suited to cover opposing guards.

Our big men, too, have shown much to be desired when it comes to pounding the ball inside and grabbing rebounds. Joel Pryzbilla is by far our best rebounder, but due to a weak offensive unit, he is often replaced early by Channing Frye, who subsequently plays poor defense.

There is hope, though. Our two prized draft picks from last year, Brandon Roy and Lamarcus Aldridge, are both averaging about 18 points a game. And not too far behind them is Martell Webster, who, in his third year out of high school, has found some confidence and consistency, while averaging over 16 points a game and showing hustle on the defensive side of the ball. I think that with some consistent play from the PG (a committee of Blake and Sergio Rodriguez most appeals to me), and letting Pryzbilla log more minutes as a defensive-minded, veteran center, we should be able to string some wins together. Our core of Roy, Aldridge and Webster, look to be great, but getting smart and consistent play around them will be key. Let's hope the PG question gets answered soon, and that the rest of the players find their grooves. The home opener is on Wednesday, and it would be very sad for them to lose their fourth in as many games.

Billy Mitchell is God, and I'm a fool

Oldie did it to me...again. You may have read, a few months back, that Old tricked me in to seeing a movie without telling me what it was. He got me to the theater under the pretense that the movie's description would not do it justice, thus it should remain a secret. It was implied it would be a pleasant surprise. That movie, The Host, was a foreign film that takes place in Seoul, South Korea, where a mutant sea monster terrorizes the city.

Had he told me the plot in advance, I would not have gone. He knew that. He knows I wouldn't go to a lot of movies that he gets thoroughly enthused for.

Fast forward to the present. Last week, Old pulled out the, "Hey, there's a really good movie I want you and Kes to see" card. Now, I've been down this road before, so I was immediately reluctant. However, in the past, I've actually liked the obscure movies he coerced me into seeing. So, being the open minded and hopeful person that I am, I agreed to go. Not without conditions, though. I had him clarify that we weren't seeing one of his fantasy wizard movies, full of magic and sorcery.

When he told me the name of the movie, I tried to imagine a story line. However, with the title, King of Kong: a Fistful of Quarters, I got contradictory images in my head. On the one hand, I was thinking about a giant ape climbing the Empire State Building; on the other, I was thinking about a spoof of the old Spaghetti Westerns with Clint Eastwood. Never did I imagine I would be watching a documentary about two video game legends competing for the world record score in Donkey Kong.

The movie revolves around video game legend, Billy Mitchell, an ego maniacal gamer from the "Golden Age of Arcade Games," and Steve Wiebe, a nice family man with unbelievable Donkey Kong skills. Billy was the first ever to record a perfect score in Pacman and, until recently, was the world's highest scorer in Donkey Kong. Steve is the one who took Billy's record, causing Mitchell to get his panties in a bunch and try to destroy Wiebe's credibility.

The story follows Weibe as he attempts to beat Billy's long-standing record. Billy, on the other hand, shows his sinister side as he argues against the authenticity of Wiebe's eventual high score, while also making attempts to outdo the newbie. It is apparent in the film that Mitchell fears losing the reputation of the "king of kong," as his self-righteous attributes shine brightly throughout. In fact, Billy, at one point in the movie, likens the controversy surrounding him to that of the abortion issue. In multiple scenes, Billy can be seen meticulously combing his long hair prior to making public appearances. In one such public appearance, a reporter asks "how are you." Billy responds, "Perfect, haven't you heard."

Weibe, on the other hand, is the ultimate good guy with a competitive edge. He is a science teacher and family man, with one weakness: he is extremely obsessive. It is this obsessiveness that leads him down the path to Donkey Kong stardom, as he eventually unseats Mitchell as the King of Kong. Whereas Billy is sneaky and will do whatever it takes to remain the king (including sending in a potentially doctored video of him achieving a high score while playing), Weibe makes an attempt to play his record breaking games in public or recording quality videos of his play, leaving little question of the authenticity of his achievements.

The cast of the movie is rounded out with an assortment of odd characters who all share a common trait: they have a weakness for old school video games. Most are in their late 30's, hailing from the same "Golden Age of Arcade Games." They are geeky, snobby, and have amazingly poor social skills. They refer to girls as DDG, or "drop dead gorgeous," and use their video game superiority as some sort of social status. They live by the motto, "never surrender," and when they beat opponents they refer to their win as "a shellacking." Many of them have formed an official club of gamers called Twin Galaxies. This club has since become the official referee in the video gaming world. They authenticate and make official all video game records. As such, the Guinness Book of World Records depends on Twin Galaxies to report respective record holders. It is no coincidence that Billy Mitchell is good friends with the Twin Galaxies consortium, and subsequently had a huge influence on the tribulations Steve Wiebe went through in pursuing the record.

As in the movie, The Host, I found myself intrigued with what I was watching. The urge to end my friendship with Old upon hearing about the move waned, and I ended up liking it. As a result, Oldie's reputation for finding quality, albeit obscure, odd-ball movies holds.

Week in Review

I thought I'd take a page out of Old's book and offer some tidbit news items for our readers. The last week was a busy one for Portland, in which the national spotlight was on our dear little Stumptown.

- First, the city got to show the world how well our emergency response teams, as well as city leaders, handle staged terrorist attacks. As you read in an earlier post, the Department of Homeland Security chose Portland to host TopOff4, a terrorism-preparedness exercise designed to measure our ability to respond to crisis situations. The supposed dirty bomb was detonated on Monday, and as the week played out, pretend victims (with fake blood and all) were admitted to hospitals (OHSU participated, as did a local high school fronting as a trauma center) and fake news reporters documented the catastrophic events. City buses were used to play the part of fire trucks and bomb-sniffing dogs were used to sniff out any remnants of other terrorist weapons. As it turns out, the multi-million dollar operation wasn't all just fun and games. While police dogs were sniffing out the "terrorists," a car belonging to a Homeland Security official gave off the smell of explosives, alerting multiple dogs to the car. Multiple blocks in the area were closed off, with local businesses and schools also proceeding with lock-out procedures. The actual scare didn't produce anything of substance, though, and all was declared safe some hours later.

- Speaking of terrorism, the nation's most "feared racist skinhead group," as labeled by the Anti Defamation League, came to town a couple weekends ago. The Hammerskin Nation (see dufus on left) chose Portland to celebrate the anniversary of their formation in Dallas, TX 20 years ago. While Portland is generally perceived as a liberal outpost, it is not without its racist roots. Volksfront, one of the most active skinhead groups in the U.S., was created in Oregon in the 1990s. Also, in 1988 an Ethiopian immigrant was beaten to death in Portland by members of East Side White Pride, a gang affiliated with Volksfront. Luckily, as the area is becoming more diverse, and its liberal ideals are strongly being maintained, Portland is seeing less activity of racist groups. However, the gathering of the Hammerskin Nation in the area is still disturbing. As it turns out, the public hall that was rented for the event (under the front of a reunion of old band members) received enough complaints that the gathering was shut down by its owners, leaving the foreskins, I mean hammerskins, without a place to gather. Yay!

- The president of Major League Soccer, Mark Abbott, was in town the other day. He and MLS commissioner, Don Garber, met with Merritt Paulson, the owner of the Portland Timbers, to discuss the possibility of bringing an expansion team to the city. If chosen, the city of Portland would have an MLS team beginning play in 2010 or 2011. They would most likely play at PGE park, on the condition that the park is renovated to MLS standards. Such a renovation would likely cost $50 million. An additional $30 mil would be paid as a fee to MLS to bring Portland its second professional sports franchise. In speaking of Portland, Garber stated, "this is a soccer town" and it "is a passionate soccer community." While I don't follow soccer, it would be a huge boost to the sports community and, if successful, may put Portland closer to acquiring another sports franchise in the future (please, for Christ's sake, bring baseball to Portland).

Fat-Faced Caricatures

I must admit that I haven't caught a South Park episode in years (a decade?), most likely since abandoning channel surfing back in high school. However, who can deny the greatness that is the South Park character. This site was passed my way, and allows you to create your own no-neck fat head caricature.

Go ahead, release your inner dress-wearing, chain-smoking, sword-wielding, bald and bearded, gypsy spaceman.

Here's my (quite accurate) self-rendition:

They're really just more intricate Peanuts characters, aren't they?

Portland: First Impressions (Guest Editorial)

Here's the first of (hopefully) many future posts by a featured guest. If you are interested in writing for our blog, send a sample post to either Jeff or myself.

This one is courtesy of our friend Anto, and was originally featured on his blog, 10 Days & 10 Nights, detailing his first visit to Portland in the summer of last year.

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Friday, June 09, 2006
First Impressions: Portland

Where do I begin? I guess it would have to be with the word vagine, pronounced, vajeen. I was greeted at the airport by rain and 80 degree weather, a combination I had yet to experience in life, and I had to say, it was good. I met the green one at around 8:00 pm and went directly to a hole called Ole Ole, and had the best fuckin' taco I've had in my life and was greeted by two other friends, Old and Kesia. So far so good, as I ate my taco I could see Green plotting on what kind of touristic fairy adventure he was going to take me on next, the Rose Garden....no, too late. One of the 78 bridges that occupy Portland.....no, he knew I wouldn't go for that. So he took me to a place he knew I would love...a bar [Doug Fir Lounge -Ed.]. This wasn't no ordinary bar, at least not one I'm accustomed to, no this bar was weird, not weird in a bad way not at all, but almost....too good to be true and here's why: We didn't get arrested, and get this, we didn't even get kicked out!!!! Let me explain why this doesn't make sense. Old called out 4 girls to fight me like he was fuckin' Don King and I was Tyson, it didn't happen but by the looks on the girls' faces and the speed at which they left, they well knew that it could have. 45 minutes later I made an executive decision to break a beer bottle on someones hotel door, 25 yards away, it had to be done. 30 minutes after that I tried my darnedest to convince K.C. to throw one at a girl's head, all in honor of the word of the week, Vagine. Shortly after, I remember, vaguely, throwing a girl to the floor to test her wrestling skills, she was nothing, as I crushed her easily, then realized she didn't even work with Green, and she just wanted to get man-handled. As you could imagine, I was promptly cut off from the bar service.....now here is where it gets weird, we didn't even drink that much. Now, I know what your thinking "that much"? I have been known to consume more alcohol than the average and have a knack for getting those around me drunk. Here is what was on the manifest: 2 shots of whiskey, 2 jagermeister, 1 homosexual concoction, and about 5 beers....are you fuckin' kidding me????? I usually drink that much on the way to the bar just to wet the ol' whistle, but I was acting like a drunken nutcase and that usually calls for at least a fifth of something. I woke the next day with questions, Green & Old had no explanation, they threw up profusely the night before so I know they felt my confusion, but seemed not to question it as much. Was it the altitude? Something in the drinks? Borat? What gives? This was beautiful, I saved at least $300 that night as opposed to Bay Area drinking, and had Old not fucked with the POS system at the bar to "check his e-mails" we might not have been cut-off and experienced a near death alcoholic experience, ( I love those ) with only a handful of drinks....????!!!!! Where was I? It seems The Lord created a perfect little city up there. Day two was uneventful and not worth discussing, except of course for Ethiopian food [at Blue Nile Cafe - Ed.], a contradiction in itself, but rather yummy, and as for day three, well, I'm going to have to pass the mike to the Mick and let him tell his side because my side was, to say the least, blurred. All in all, I had a blast and want to thank the natives for showing a Bay Area boy a great time, thanks Green, Old, Kesia, Cassie, K.C. (doesn't that get confusing?) I'll see you guys soon enough. Out.

Watch out for that dirty bomb

Portlanders will be in for a treat on Tuesday, 10/16, for it is not everyday one witnesses the intentional detonation of a dirty bomb and subsequent emergency response of the city's authorities. This Tuesday, though, you can soak under a cloud of radiation and watch the police, firemen, paramedics, and city leaders scramble to show how well Portland can respond to a terrorist attack....sort of.

It's all pretend, of course.

The dirty bomb won't really have radioactive components in it (darn). However, everyone from the mayor on down to 911 (they'll use 211 on this day, so as not to jam the real emergency response line) operators will have to act like it's a dirty bomb, thus showing the world how prepared we are for terrorist attacks. The mission, dubbed "Topoff4," and overseen by the Department of Homeland Security, is a practice run of what the government wants us all to fear: freedom-hating terrorists, with an arsenal of biological weapons, bringing their savage ways to a city near you. It is the government's hopes that such a mission will allow us to further prepare for, and simultaneously prevent, a situation similar to the World Trade Center attacks on 9/11.

Sounds like a good plan. At least when we are again caught off guard by a terrorist attack, we can say we did all we could to prepare. However, after two years since the last Topoff mission, a public report has yet to be filed, in effect keeping all findings from the test results a secret (I thought it was to provide insight in the event of a real attack). In this mission, the fourth carried out since 9/11 across various US cities, a dirty bomb will be detonated on the Steel Bridge (really at the Portland Raceway), causing a domino effect of panic, scurry, emergency response, and, naturally, a restoration to peace and order (for we can't let the terrorists win...maybe we should also practice shopping afterward to boost the economy and let them know our way of life won't be impacted by their threats). The mission will include the participation of 15,000 people, from police and EMTs, to Mayor Tom Potter and fake news reporters (I'm sure real media outlets will be there, too, to report on the silliness). Governor Kulongoski will even be around to make sure Portland is not taken over.

If you want to show off your emergency preparedness skills at Topoff4, show up to Portland International Raceway at 9:00 am on Tuesday. Don't forget your sunglasses and hazmat suits, though.

Underdog Lucky Lab Declared Preeminent Portland Brewery

The results of our most recent poll, asking who the finest brewery is in Stumptown:

• Lucky Lab: killed the competition, taking 33% of the vote.
• McMenamin's: 18% (Seriously? Their IPA tastes like Band-Aids.)
• BridgePort, Laurelwood, Old Lompoc, MacTarnahan's, and Widmer Bros. all tied, with a respectable 8% each.
• Hair of the Dog, Tugboat, and Rockbottom: 0%...better improve your marketing department, folks.

Make sure to participate in our newest poll...now that the rains are here in all their Biblical Flood proportions, what's your favorite rainy day activity? This poll will run through next month, as well, since it got off to such a late start.

Thanks for the interaction, peeps.

Ghosts of Celilo

For 10,000 years, the mid-Columbia River has been a sacred and traditional fishing area for local Native Americans, referred to as River People. These River People, or Wy-Kan-Ush-Pum (literally, Salmon people), were made up of the Nez Perce Nation, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, the Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs Reservation, and the Confederated Tribes and Bands of the Yakama Indian Nation. These tribes were made up of different ancestral groups and familial bands that all, to varying extents, made a subsistence on the river and the fish that swam its waters.

One group in particular, the Wyampum, prospered in their fishing village, Wyam, and have roots in the area that span more than 10 millenia. Wyam, which translates to "Echo of Falling Water" or "Sound of Water upon the Rocks," was a sacred fishing site that saw many generations of fishermen support their village with the fish they caught. The Wyampum built intricate fishing systems along the falls, which included wooden platforms and scaffolding that allowed dipnetters and spear-fishermen to stand over the falls for better access to the fish runs. The significance of Wyam, now called Celilo Falls (just over an hour from Portland), extends beyond the food the river provided. The fishing activity also increased the areas importance as a trading site, where other tribes would come to trade for salmon, steelhead and eel, with commercial canneries purchasing what was not eaten and traded among the locals. In more recent times, the intricate fisheries along the river became somewhat of a tourist attraction ("Hey, mom, look at the Indians fishing!"). To say the least, Wyam, or Celilo, was historically important and culturally deep.

All that changed, though, 50 years ago when, in the name of progress and modernity, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers dammed the river in an attempt to generate hydro-electric power. When the dam's floodgates were closed in 1957, and the river's flow impeded, Celilo became an afterthought, as the fisheries were destroyed and the falls and village flooded. The people whose life blood had been the falls, were now left with a diminishing food source and a lot less land...not to mention the complete loss of 10,000 years of history and tradition.

To mark 50 years since the historic travesty, Marv Ross, in conjunction with Artists Repertory Theater and Youth Resources Incorporated, has brought the story back to life with his play, Ghosts of Celilo . The story revolves around four ghosts, all stuck beneath water in the flooded village of Celilo. Each of the four ghosts are connected by their respective relation to the main characters, Chokey Jim (Noah Hunt) and Train (ColtonLasater). By figuring out their connections, and thus retelling the story of events leading up to the damming, the ghosts will be able to escape the purgatory they've found themselves in under the river. Mary, one of the spirits (played by Chenoa Egawa), is the mother of Train, a boy from Celilo who is kidnapped, along with his friend Chokey, and taken to an Indian boarding school. The man who kidnaps the two boys, Inky (Kevin Michael Moore), is the second of the four ghosts. He and Mary are joined under water by the ghosts of Big Eddie (Thomas Morning Owl Jr.), who, despite being from Celilo, helps the missionaries run the said boarding school, and The Colonel (Corey Brunish), an Army engineer assisting with the completion of the dam. The story follows Chokey (loosely based on the life of Nathan Jim) as he seeks to escape the boarding school and return to Celilo before the eventual flooding of his village. The play comes together as a musical interpretation of the lives that were effected by the river and its subsequent damming, as well as what Native Americans were forced to endure as the encroaching white population sought to make them assimilate into their society.

Marv Ross' production, with the direction of Greg Tamblyn and musical contributions of Chenoa Egawa, manages to turn a sad and unfortunate story into one of strength, perseverance and deep cultural history. To see the play, you must do so before its last showing on the 14th of October. For more information, or to buy tickets, visit the website, http://www.ghostsofcelilo.com.

Avoid the Extra Glucosa...

As Jeff has frequently informed our loyal readers, I am a huge fan of the "gibblet." The gibblet (or nibblet, tiddbit, nuggeeeeet and dozens of other variations) refers to a tasty little snack, preferably of the greasy, fried variety. I search high and low for new additions to my regular rotation of gibblets, often purchasing well more than I can ever eat alone or store at home (often leading me to pass them off onto the homies...Jeff is currently babysitting at least four recent purchases at the moment). A recent find is the Vietnamese snackpack called Trai Cay Say. It's basically a bunch of fruits and starches (pineapple, banana, taro root, sweet potato, and jack fruit) of the dried, fried, and salted kind.

Anyway, while snickersnacking this afternoon, I decided to attempt to decipher some of the Vietnamese language present on the bag when I spotted a small paragraph of English...If anyone can tell me what this means, I'll change my name to Pol Pot.

By the special processing industry used in the process of production of dry products from fresh fruits. No chemical substance is used, but the colour and natural flavour is well maintained. These dried products have also the peculiarity of sweet, smelling, appetite, crispness, tempting taste. Provide many nutritive facts, vitamins, mineral necessary for the body, avoid the extra glucosa.

Kinda makes you hungry...