Dave's first blog post (Sorry! It's a long one!)

Every adventure has a beginning.  A salient moment or event, that sets the tone for the events to come.  For me, it was my first trip to Oregon. 

Heidi was offered her dream job at a university in the Pacific Northwest and we were both very excited. For me, of course, the move would be a considerable sacrifice.  A noble and selfless act on my part, I thought to myself, as I packed the skis. The snowshoes. The bikes. The hiking gear. The kayaking gear. The camping gear.  And the pile of outdoor guidebooks that I had started collecting almost from the moment I heard we were moving there.  What a modern husband wouldn’t do to support his wife’s career!

It all happened very quickly.  She had two weeks to accept the job, but I could not take time off of work to see Oregon before she would have to accept or reject it.   She accepted it, of course.  While thrilled about the upcoming move, Oregon still remained a mystery to me.  Not having ever seen it, I had no image that I could use to start imagining what our life would be like.  It was a complete blank. 

My first time to Oregon was for an interview.  A flight to San Francisco with a connection to Eugene.  But with the infamous San Francisco fog, and an Asiana Airlines jet still sitting on the runway, things did not go so smoothly.

This is where the adventure began.  We left on a Thursday.  My interview day was Friday.  I was to meet and interview with 7 different people before lunch, lunch with my potential colleagues, then interview with 3 people after lunch.  Afterwards a tour with a real estate agent, and then dinner in the evening.  Quite a schedule!  Shouldn’t be a problem.  Our flight would get us into town in the afternoon.  Plenty of time to relax, prepare for the interview and get a good night’s sleep.   Or so we thought.

Between the fog and the runway being down, we made it to San Francisco very late, and all but one of the connecting flights to Eugene were cancelled, except the 5PM which was to leave at 9PM, if at all..

Taking the train turned out not to be an option.  We had two choices:  Either cancel the interview and reschedule (not even sure that was a real possibility), or drive.  Theoretically, it is an eight hour drive from San Francisco.  That would get us to the hotel at around 1 AM.  No problem.  As a physician, I have worked long shifts with little sleep and functioned well.  I could even get 6  hours of sleep before the interview.  Piece of cake! 

I had envisioned a mad caffeine-fueled dash through the night, kind of a middle-aged Hunter Thompson-esque journey.  We gathered the luggage, got the rental car, and drove out of the airport at 5 PM, straight into rush hour traffic. At 7 PM, we finally cleared San Francisco and stopped for dinner.  No problem.  We could still get there by 3 AM.  4 hours of sleep would be plenty.  More than I ever got on call! 

I slept for an hour and a half while Heidi drove, and then took over the driving.  Around midnight, Heidi cried uncle.  We would have to stop and get some sleep.  My wife is one of those odd people who eats well, exercises, and gets a full night’s sleep every night. She is, in other words, sane.  We decided to stop for a nap.  We pulled off the highway and found a gas station that had a large dirt lot next to it filled with large trucks.  We drove down to the end of the row of trucks, and slept.  Our first night in our new home state.  We woke up around 3AM and started again.  We made it to the hotel at 7:30 sharp. A representative from the hospital was going to meet me at 8:45 in the lobby.  I jumped into the shower while Heidi called room service for breakfast.  I made it to the lobby with two minutes to spare with my clothes ironed, beard trimmed, fully caffeinated, and looking respectable (which is a feat even on a good day!)  I managed to keep myself pleasant and professional throughout the day.  The caffeine started to wear off around mid-morning.  By noon I was offered the job, which was great!  But by that time, I was struggling to stay focused.  Human resources went over a lot of numbers that refused to sink in.  We met with a real estate agent and I fell asleep in the car while being driven around the town with Heidi.  We made it back to the hotel by 4:30, got an hour of sleep, and awoke to get ready for the dinner with future colleagues.  By that time, word had started to get around about our driving all night to get there.  None of my interviewers had realized that I hadn’t slept.  They were impressed with my stamina. 

It may not be the kind of story that legends are made of, but it’s a great way to start a new narrative.  A funny twist on a new beginning. 

You have to see it to believe it

Yesterday my neighbors stopped by to say, "The swifts are circling.  It's not time yet.  But we'll be back tomorrow!"  Now, this sort of thing doesn't happen very often--even in Oregon--so we were a little curious.  After a long walk with Potter and an early dinner we waited by the window for the return of our neighbors.  When they arrived we walked to the ice cream parlor two blocks away, circled around to the empty lot behind the store, and watched a swarm of swifts fly over head. This is a picture of our neighbors: Bob, Ginger, and their grandson James (in case you hadn't noticed, James is wearing most of his ice cream cone on his face):

 It took about half an hour of circling, flocking, waving, and swaying:

In time, when they were ready, the swifts ushered themselves gracefully into the chimney of an old school.  It was really kind of amazing-- like something out of a scene from Harry Potter or a Hitchcock movie.  The birds just showed up, seemingly out of nowhere, danced in the sky while calling out to their friends to join them.  Without an angry fist, a collision, or a gesture of jealousy they escorted themselves into a funnel and then into the opening of the chimney.  I thought about train stations and airports where we humans need ropes and signs to keep us in an orderly line to wait our turn for a cab. The birds seemed to have an internal sense of order, or maybe they were just a lot more mature than humans.

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This ritual is part of their migration pattern.  Every fall, once the band starts practicing at the U of O, the birds show up for about three weeks.  They make a nightly ritual of circling and then settling down in the chimney to rest for the evening. They stay until they're ready to move on to the next place on their journey south.  

Dave did an amazing job of taking these pictures. It wasn't easy to capture the moving birds on a still camera--especially once the sun set.  If you want to see this process with moving images (by a far less accomplished photographer) check out this video:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xVhDuleP6o
(you might have to copy and paste the above link into your browser)

The other very important part of this ritual is that after the community watches this spectacle, we walk to the other side of the ice cream shop to indulge in splendors of another kind.  Tonight they had my favorite: chocolate chip.  James got another chocolate cone, most of which--in the spirit of great rituals--ended up on his face.