Since I used a photo from a gentleman this morning, I think it’s only proper give credit where credit is do, as the saying goes. That can be hard to do Twitter, with only 140 characters of space to type.
He has a great blog with some terrific photography, 3inNYC. He knows what he’s doing with a camera.
I discovered him, and the photograph, while searching for an image of Voodoo Donuts to use. I would have taken my own, but my usual standby’s battery, an iPod Touch, has completely died, after months of barely being able to hold a charge for long. I’ve had it for years, a steady companion to my travels. I miss having him around. Gonna have to get it fixed, either by replacing the battery myself, no easy task, or sending it to Apple, which isn’t cheap.
I’m in ‘weird’ Portland at the moment. I spent the night at a friend’s place, after helping her move her stuff from a storage unit in Seattle to her apartment in Oregon.
She lives in a very yuppieish, upscale apartment building and the rent shows it. It’s apparently in the Buckman area, a neighborhood where I don’t think I’ve ever stopped off before. Usually I’m just passing through on the interstate.
I’m in Oregon to visit some of the family, my parents, grandmother, and, hopefully, my great uncle, who turns 100 in July. He had a stroke a few months ago, and I’m not sure if he’s up for visitors.
On the way back to Salem, where they all live, I’m hoping to make two stops, if my parents don’t mind and aren’t pressed for time.
There is an OfficeMax with a tablet, the Kindle Fire HD 6, I want to try out. It’s right off the freeway in Tigard. It’s exit 293 on I-5.
Then, I’d like to stop at Champoeg, the state park and the cemetery near there. This is where some relatives on my Mom’s side, the Goodells, lived. Some are buried in the Champoeg cemetery.
The cemetery is just south of the state park, which in part honors the founding of the provisional government, on a road named Case. John Brown Goodell, brother of my great-great-great grandfather, came to Oregon with his family on a wagon train from Illinois.
I’m hoping they bring a digital camera, as I’d like to take some photos. Since my iPod Touch has gone kaput, I don’t have anything to take pictures and I should charge up the Kindle Fire for a few hours before using it.
It’s strange to read an obituary of someone you knew in high school. It is particularly poignant in the wee hours of the day after Memorial Day.
I learned about his death from a friend on Facebook, who was understandably shocked. Sadly, I know of a few other classmates who have died as well. I even went to a service for one of them, Troy Sikel, another talented man and fellow actor, despite my aversions to crowds and strangers.
The latest, Daren VanDewalker, I knew from wandering into the high school theater one day. What I was doing there I really don’t know. It was probably partly my brother’s influence, who had caught the acting bug a few years before.
I remember one day our teacher, who I can still hear bellowing my name as if I’m in some sort of trouble, wanted us to do some improv. Daren was sitting in a big circle with a group of us students. Everyone was having a raucous, good time. I was mostly just watching that day. I don’t recall doing much improvisation myself. I do remember being fascinated by the camaraderie.
Another memory is one time being given the task of acting the part of a man who had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I had no idea what to do, so I just reacted to what my compatriot, the doctor, said. It was amazingly effective. I’ve heard famous actors say that the key to acting is listening. It’s very true.
Understated is often best, I learned. Our drama teacher had given me that assignment, at least in part, because I was often very prone to comedic buffoonery, rather than serious drama. Many of my roles in the various plays during my four years offered comedic relief, and I loved doing it.
Now, however, I’m much less the attention seeker, though I cherish those memories. I’ve reverted back to my introverted self. Today, I’m more of a recluse.
Life is certainly fickle. His death is a reminder that we are temporal. We must live in the moment and cherish every minute. I need to remember these harsh life lessons.
Daren, a mere 42 years old, barely more than a year older than myself, died from a stroke. My thoughts and prayers are with his family, his wife and four kids, and his sister, Denise.
After learning about the untimely passing of a former fellow actor from the drama program at my alma mater, Douglas McKay High School in Salem, Oregon, I did a cursory search of his name and discovered the obituary of his father, Steven Hugh VanDewalker, who also died relatively young, in 2012 at the age of 61.
Steve VanDewalker was born in Ashland, Oregon, attending college there and marrying his high school sweetheart, Rebecca MacCollister, before eventually moving to Salem. He worked for Morton Salt for 24 years.
I didn’t know the family well, but we did attend the same church, Morning Star. His two children, Daren and Denise, and I also went to the same high school during that time.
Daren and I were active in the choir and drama. That’s where I got to know him. He had a major role in my first play, the terrific musical West Side Story. It was a great experience, for the most part. I’ve rarely seen so many incredibly talented people gathered together in a cast before.
I, however, was a shy, introverted, skinny, naïve nerd. Going on stage, slowly brought me out of my exile and into other worlds.
It was shocking to learn that Daren had died, through a Facebook post by one of his friends, Joe Litke. I got to know Joe via the youth group at Morning Star and various mission trips, including one to Modesto, California.
Life is, indeed, short. For most of us, way too short.
Years ago, I would catch a glimpse of The Virginian, that old classic TV show. I am sure I watched an episode or two, though it never captured my attention like Bonanza or Wild Wild West.
He grew up in the same city where I did: Salem, Oregon.
The family’s ties to Oregon go back a ways.
Drury’s nephew still owns the 100-acre ranch just south of Salem where James spent some of his youth.
His mother, maiden name Crawford, was born on her father’s vegetable farm on Browns Island in 1895. My friend Carl lived in an old farmhouse out there for awhile. I love that area. Most of it is now a large park and wildlife refuge. There are quite a few deer there.
“I patterned my Virginian character after my maternal grandfather, John Hezekiah Crawford, an Oregon dirt farmer and rancher who raised cattle. He came out to Oregon with a wagon train in 1880 or 1875,” Drury explained.
“He had a big team of Belgian draft horses. He put me on one and I stayed up there all day. I’ve been crazy about horses ever since.”
He also spent time in beautiful Newport, on the Oregon coast. The Drurys bought a beach house at Agate Beach before he was born. Then, they bought a blueberry farm near Newport’s south jetty.
Drury lives in Houston, Texas now.
I should probably revisit that show, see what I missed.
I first met Jeffery through my friend Ramon. Jeffery died on Monday, December 2, under suspicious circumstances. I learned about it on Tuesday.
The situation is very fluid, with a lot of unanswered questions. Authorities, including US Marshals, continue to investigate.
What follows is how Jeffery viewed himself, as posted on his Couchsurfing profile.
“I describe myself as funny. I like to laugh. My mind goes wild in making anything into something funny, whether it was something that could have happened or ‘lets do this’.”
He did make me laugh.
“The things I cherish the most in my life is my favorite pillow, my dog, my best friend, and the relationship I have with my brother.”
I remember his dog, a pug I think, pee on his tent after he put it up in his parents’ backyard. Ramon bought one too and convinced me to get one. Columbia tents with double D-style doors on both sides.
“I used to be very materialistic growing up. But now I know what I want and it doesn’t have to be the newest thing out there in the market. I have the few things I enjoy in life and I am happy with just having those. Which does put a cramp on things because I love to shop.”
He will be missed by his many friends, including those from the Couchsurfing community.
Douglas McKay High School. Salem, Oregon. Class of 1993. Not sure where I am. Not even sure I am in the photo, though I was much less photo adverse back then. I do recognize a lot of faces. Benno Milmore, Troy Miletta, Josh O’Harra, Brian Hills & many more.
This year is the twentieth anniversary of my graduation from high school. Some of the crew are planning a reunion. It is hard to me to fathom that it has been 20 years!
I don’t plan on being there, but it has been fun chatting on Facebook with old friends and looking at old photos, including the one above, a class photo. Not sure what year it was taken. Must be from a year book.
Sadly, some of our classmates are no longer with us.
The nation’s capitol building complex, which includes Statuary Hall, allows each state two statues to represent it. Usually these are figures with historical stature.
For Oregon, John McLoughlin, dubbed the “Father of Oregon” and serving as an agent of the Hudson Bay Co., and Jason Lee, a Methodist preacher, have the honor, for now. Replicas of these also grace the state capitol grounds. A bill introduced in the Oregon Legislature would remove one statue and replace it with another.
The “billowy, chest-thrusting” representation of McLoughlin is safe. However, if approved, the statue of Lee, the Methodist missionary who helped settle Oregon and found Willamette University, would be supplanted by a sculpture of Mark Hatfield, a former governor and senator.
The move is not meant to slight Lee, said Rep. Vic Gilliam, R-Silverton, who is one of the main backers. “This is a bill about modernizing Oregon’s image in Statuary Hall with what I think is a modern hero.”
Mark Hatfield standing next to President Herbert Hoover
One historian claims that Jason Lee did very little in Oregon. Lee did very little in Oregon? Hmmm. I do not think this is an accurate interpretion of his role. Looks like I need to pen a letter to the editor.
Ironically, Hatfield was a graduate of Willamette and the main library not only bears his name, but also his personal library and papers. Three modern-day Republicans — Hatfield, Tom McCall, and Vic Atiyeh — hold a certain sway over some.
McCall and Hatfield held quite liberal views on some subjects. For example, Hatfield believed in delivering money to pet projects in Oregon, a lot of what is derisively called pork. Hence, his name, like Robert Byrd, graces many publicly-funded projects, everything from the federal building in downtown Portland to the marine science center in Newport.
The Modine family is probably like most others. Like my own, there is a mix of liberals and conservatives. My older brother and uncle lean left while the rest of us in my immediate family are conservative to varying degrees.
My paternal grandmother was raised a Democrat and has been one all of her life. They were Democrats and Methodists. Nothing would ever change that.
One of my great aunts was a delegate to the 1972 Democratic Convention. And the tradition continues: another great aunt and uncle are big supporters of Tom Daschle.
We were both on the campaign trail. He was running for some local office, perhaps the mass transit board, and I, being ambitious and naive, had jumped into the race for mayor.1
At first I was skeptical about his claim. I’ve run into all sorts of people who say the darnedest things when I’ve been out campaigning.
Then I looked him over carefully. Sure enough, Mike had that Modine look in his face. He shared certain facial features with his more famous brother.
Not only was he a Modine, he was a Republican, he said. A Republican? Hmmmm.
I don’t know how conservative Mike was or is. I had a feeling he might be one of those Republican-in-name-only fellas, like Colin Powell or John McCain.
Mike told me a little about the family. There were several brothers, he said. The exact number I can’t remember. It may have been four or five.2
I’d like to hear his thoughts on all of this. What does he think of Obama? Gun control? The budget?
LOWE: Look . . . I like guns, and I don’t own an assault rifle. I wouldn’t know what to do with one. I wouldn’t know why I would want one. I also see that if you’re a law-abiding person and you bought it under the law, having it taken from you, I can see why people would have a problem with that. . . .
I do think that the last thing viewers want is another Hollywood actor telling them anything about guns, pro or con.
I don’t own any guns at the moment, but I don’t begrudge anyone who wants to buy a rifle or carry a hand gun.
If folks don’t intend to commit crimes with ’em, then I could really care less what they have in their arsenals. My philosophy is generally libertarian: live and let live.
I sure wish Obama, Big Sis and their cronies had the same attitude.
AJH
1. Originally I had written about Matthew Modine’s brother Geoff, who, despite searching using Google and DexKnows.com, I could not locate. Looking up the election records helped. Actually his name is Mike, and in 1994 he was running to be a state representative. Why I thought it was Geoff, I don’t know. I wrote that his “parents picked an odd spelling for his name.” Still, I don’t have any current information on him, where he’s living and what he’s up to. It looks like he has relocated to Harrisburg.
2. There are seven siblings, according to an interview given by Matthew and TVGuide.com. If I remember correctly, Mike may have told me the kids were all boys. (But I thought his name was Geoff, remember.)
AARON HILL’S NOTEBOOK 