Jaci Dawn

When we drove up to the house tonight, this is what greeted us.

The sun was at a perfect angle, lighting up the rhododendrons.

It was a simple “wow” moment.

It came at a wonderful time, too. I pulled into the parking lot contemplating the stupidity of supposedly highly educated and well-brought-up people. (Insert a sarcastic “hahahaha” here)

Don & I chose to stop at our favorite little wine bar (it’s something of a hole-in-the-wall that draws people from all professions: we have seen former governor Barbara Roberts there). Vinos has a little wine tasting nearly every Friday. It’s a wine bar that is more like “Cheers”, with a little for anyone and everyone, not expensive, great atmosphere (there is none: you create it) and absolutly no ambiance but the personality of the man who owns it (Bruce) and his employees. It’s the best place in the greater Portland Metro area to have a nice tasting of specialized wine (mostly reds). Bring your own eats.

We’ve been going to Vinos for years and have met a lot of fascinating people and made a few friends.

Tonight, we were surrounded by folks who were obviously medical professionals (not the first time we’ve met doctors there, but the first time for this group of folks)). I love to people watch and admired the interesting dangly earrings of the 60-something women while they chitted companionably together about their lives and other medical professionals they know. Then one couple decided to make our acquaintance and asked a few genial ice-breaker questions. You know: Do you live nearby?

Nearby would be the highly desirable old hippie neighborhood of Sellwood, which is now a high-rent Yuppie district. Lovely old homes with small yards, wonderful landscaping, and very kid-friendly. Very granola: bike to work, carry baby in a sling, ride a bike to work.

We live in Oregon City, which is a lovely community in itself: historical homes (many on the National register), museums, wide streets, beautiful parks.

The man replied to our answer, “Do you ever feel looked down on because you live in Oregon City?”

My mind raced forward with a lot of come-backs, but I wisely held my tongue and replied simply that we liked being blue collar. (Imagine that: choosing to be blue collar, sipping wine in a run-down store front leased by a wonderful wine guy with no pretentions and sharing that wine tasting at a folding table, on folding chairs, with someone who seems to think that because you live five miles south of Portland City proper, that you’re somehow in the podunks? It was really quite humorous.

THEN, the guy said (he must have been drinking before he showed up at Vinos!), “Has Oregon City ever become gentrified? You do know what that word means?”

I about kicked him under the table, but consideration for my husband (and Bruce and all his employees and the countless other folks who frequent Vinos – without ever prejudging someone else) kept me from doing so. Several comebacks crossed my mind at lightning speed, but I decided to steer the conversation more toward his profession.

Don’t ask me how I did it: I don’t remember. I said something about Sellwood being an old hippie community & back when I was having babies delivered by a midwife, that many of my friends (one, really) lived in Sellwood.

And oh boy, did they love the midwife part. Well, what the loved was the breast-feeding in public part. The being ahead of the times in the early 1980s and breast feeding in public part. Now, midwives are in every hospital. We were suddenly ground-breaking non-traditionalists who were somehow in synch with the gentrification of Sellwood (you figure that part out: it’s beyond me).

That morphed into a short lesson on the Oregon Trail & the struggles of women in child bearing & pregnancy.

So all ended well, but I still couldn’t shake that guy’s remarks. It’s the first time we’ve ever been insulted at Vino’s because we didn’t choose to live the white collar life within the boundaries of the City of Portland. Are people really that ignorant? Are professional people really that ignorant?

(The answer is “No – this one guy was a boor and totally clueless. Probably has never had a callous in his life, except for ill-fitting polished leather shoes.”)

Don’t think I’m upset or angry about it: I think it’s funny.

Then I pulled into our driveway and was greeted by the sun-kissed rhododendron.

Yes. We live in Oregon City. God is good, the sun is shining, and we’re proud to be blue collar folks. And never ask a grammarian if she knows the meaning of a word.

“You’re an ignoramus, right? You do know the meaning of that word?”

(I didn’t say it. I just thought it.)