Amazingly enough,
our Portland existence was brief. Just under three years. At the
time it was going on, though, the time seemed to stretch on all the
way back to the recesses of the beginning and seemed like they were
never going to end.
We left Goose
Hollow. Thankfully. I just couldn't bare to climb that huge hill
one more time. I could not bare the leaf blowers, the buses, the
semis and the excavation trucks. Believe it or not, at the time we
left Goose Hollow, I was sober—this means no hangovers, and I still
felt like I would crack at any moment due to the noise.
Janice found us a
nice apartment right downtown Portland. We were two blocks from the
Portland State campus and about four blocks for her office at The
Oregonian. In fact, we moved to SW 4th Ave. SW 4th
is a big street cutting through downtown. A three lane wide one way
street with parking on both sides. The freeway is just three blocks
way and all the normal stuff associated with downtown areas are ever
present: fire trucks, police sirens, nearby hospitals, train whistles
and all the helicopters that land at the helipads just a few blocks
away. Being a new building and constructed of concrete and triple
pane windows, the place was quiet.
