| Reclaiming their villages
by Michael O'Brien Down along the coast. Wheeler, Bay City, Netarts, Oceanside,
Hebo, Beaver, Cloverdale, Tierra Del Mar, Neskowin. Villages being abandoned
in droves.
The alpacas at the end of town are back outside, freshly shorn. Lazy
migrating birds drop through for a glimpse, visit for a spell, move on
in formation. A lawn mower in the distance. Then, quiet. View nests are being built high above. (Where are those binoculars anyway?) Drive along the bay mid day and pace a bird, six inches off the water, staying with you at 40 mph for two miles minimum. Furiously going somewhere, but not far. You think it's playing with you. Six boat trailers at the launch. Sixty last week. The beach is empty. Huge logs in from last night's storm. Parked solidly for the time being. Inland, along 101, a guy works out, his arms pounding hard in a racing wheelchair along the shoulder, kids with schoolbooks step aside. Careful, truck coming from the south. The local storekeep has his easy chair back behind the counter. Remote control, some kind of talk show has him. The bell rings as you enter. He's startled by your presence. It's dark earlier but the elk and deer are down in the evenings, soaking up the solitude and eating what flowers remain. They seem to know who's local, don't react as you crawl by in your vehicle. Some, you recognize from last year, good, they made it through. Short days make for long nights. Pop out for a visit to the pub. Less people but somehow louder and happier. God, that's been Mary's stool for years. Where was she all summer? No matter, back now. They dragged that old ping-pong table back out, all right! "Wanna' get in the Monday Night Football pool? Was that you I saw by the library today? Going to the fire hall breakfast Saturday?" Chatter, familiar chatter, surrounds you. Faces from last winter, looking pleased with each other. "Who's Tillamook got this Friday? Waldport - on the road. Nothin' going on then?" Nope. One barkeep has nailed up a thank-you letter from some folks from Indiana. A crowd stands around reading and giggling. "My husband and I had a great time when we visited your town this summer and we had a question - When do the deer turn into elk? We'd like to come back for that if you'd be kind enough to reply." The locals are working on it. It's all theirs for the next few months. Not a kite in sight during
the day. No RV's pulling Jeeps pulling boats. No need for a golf time,
just show up and see if anyone's around. Seven cars in the Safeway lot.
Sweep into the bank and out inside a minute. The ambulance crew poker
game is well underway for the season. Nobody climbing on rocks they shouldn't
or trying jet skis out in the ocean. Ah, paid by the hour in the winter,
can't beat it.
Put in some candles and remember those batteries. Should start losing
power lines soon. Hope it's not during the night but bet that it is. Last
Thanksgiving, barbecued turkeys going on multiple decks as candles danced
in the windows for three days. Intensive care nurses at the hospital entertaining boyfriends for night visits. Tree down on the Kilches River Road - have to go around. Maybe we should call it in. They may not know at the County. Smoke pours from the chimneys all afternoon. Does anyone around here have a job? "Tried to get on with PUD for the winter, but it's not going to happen. We'll cut and sell some firewood and hunker down." Poor isn't so bad here, the tourists will be back soon enough. Slowing down, everywhere you look. For most, that's the point of the matter of living here all year. Didn't you know? Photos and text (C) 2001 Michael O'Brien |
All ocean, birds and wind moving trees as the weather kicks up. Something
building. Secure the garbage can lid.
