Fall, Equinox and College Football

If you think Packers, you don't know what I"m talking about.

It's that time of year again. Fall. Autumn. The Equinox. Here in the Pacific Northwest, the seasons change demonstratively. On Midsummer's Night, the sun rises before 5:30 AM and sets slightly after 9 PM. Just a few days ago, on the day of equal day and night, it rose at 7:00 AM and set at 7:00 PM. The angle of the sun changes, and the sun is already halfway to its southernmost arc. As a southerner, I find this transition particularly challenging. I find myself introspective, nostalgic and, at times, morose.

There's a certain slant of light, 

On winter afternoons, 

That oppresses, like the weight 

Of cathedral tunes.

There's a decay in the air and Indian summer days only serve to mock the dirges of dying bees, and the leaves on the trees are just—just—on the cusp. What can we do to shake ourselves from this melancholic reverie? College Football. And I'm not talking about it all, specifically, SEC and ACC. It's different out here, and I can't say that I altogether like it.

The University of Oregon dominates and they have this thing they call the "Civil War," when U of O plays Oregon State. The four years I've been here, the Ducks have beat the Beavers every time. UGA U. of Florida bar fights are more entertaining and vigorous than this rivalry.

If Oregon is on TV in a bar or pub, all 50 TV's must be tuned to that channel. But every cloud has its silver lining. Because the big, local bar refused to turn even one little monitor to the UGA game, we discovered our most beloved Portland gem, The Brooklyn Pub. There are 3 main TV's, and 3 more spread throughout this little space. The proprietor, Nate, is ready for we east coasters who watch early morning games.

Initially, we had to call and ask if he would turn on the UGA game. He was always accommodating. Sometimes we'd find ourselves in another part of town, unable to get a monitor changed because the Oregon game was on, and we'd call down.

Brooklyn Park Pub: How can we help you?
Me: Um, would it be possible to turn a TV to the UGA game?
BPP: We're so sick and tired of you Georgia people calling to ask, Dammit.
Me: Oh, geez, sorry...
BPP: Where ya been? It's already on...

Ah Southern hospitality can be found in the least likely of places. A northwest bar named after a yankee borough. I ask you!

We watch out games with Michigan and Penn State fans who have also found the Brooklyn. Nate makes us individualized breakfast plans and we refill our own coffee. Bloody Mary's frequently appear. Sometimes my friends and I are the only ones in the bar, and during half time Nate regales us with rants about how women used to rule the universe but then demanded "equality" and lost it all. History lessons often involve "taking it to the map."

All in all, I've enjoyed the different way I watch my college football. Of course, there's no more tailgating, and as the season wears on, I grow increasingly jealous of the beautiful southeastern skies broadcasted on the TV's. The slate gray skies and blanket of wet cloud envelops Portland, and we can only look on in envy as we see sunlight streaming through the Athens hedges. I can't even mention those Chick-fil-A commercials. Absolute torture.

My UGA sticker has faded such that people out here think I'm a Packer fan. Nobody recognizes the Wake Forest Seal on my car. Still, entering a bar at 9:00 AM here, looking around at other stool perchers: our eyes meet, we nod, and we know without saying a word. Go Dawgs! Go Deacs!

Hamlet Brings the Civil War to Oregon

While the brooding Prince of Denmark may seem to be an unlikely connector between Oregon and the Civil War, The Portland Actors Ensemble facilitate an unlikely mingling of historical figures at their June presentations of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark in the Lone Fir Cemetery. The Oregonian has an article that does an excellent job of tying these seemingly disparate players together.

This cemetery, located in the heart of southeast Portland, holds Civil War Veteran's remains and a Gettysburg Memorial, which was dedicated in 1939. Southerners don't own the rights to Civil War fascination! Little did I know that June 2012 marks the 150th anniversary of Oregon's connection to the Civil War (or the exact definition of  Sesquicentennial). General Howard fought in the Battle of Fair Oaks, Virginia, and he eventually settled in Portland, OR. Read more about Oregon/Civil War Connections here.

Furthermore, I've known from reading Lincoln: The Biography of a Writer, that Shakespeare was never far from Lincoln's mind, and our president had a personal affinity for the melancholy and humor of Hamlet. The author, Fred Kaplan writes

And, during his presidency, Claudius's soliloquy came frequently to mind, in reference to his own "offences," at least in moments in which he thought it possible the war might not be worth so much Sourthern and Northern blood. Was the war not also a form of self-murder, brother against brother, which, as a Southerner by birth, Lincoln could especially feel? 'What if this cursed hand / Were thicker than itself with brother's blood-- / Is there not rain enough . . . ?'

This ain't humid, y'all! 

Now, perfectly, fantastically enough, it started to rain just as our actor Hamlet spoke these lines. The irony was not lost on the northwest audience, smiling sheepishly at the sky. For the audience, the drips from the June sky were not as abnormal as the "humidity" commented on at the preamble of the play. It never ceases to amaze me when northwesterners think it's humid. Oh, ha, ha. Come on down to South Carolina in mid June and watch a play in a graveyard. The lightning bugs would be phenomenal, but so would the mosquitos, no-see-ums, and body-suffocating-all-encompassing-cloud of wet we refer to as "humidity."

One of the things I treasure about Portland, is the quality and quantity of outdoor Shakespeare each summer. And they're free. Portland's Parks (and cemeteries apparently) just lend themselves to outdoor theater, and Portland's people lend themselves to audiences. After months of gray, we take every opportunity to be out in the sunshine, warmth, lush, color and overall pleasantness that is Portland in the summer time. The living is, indeed, easy.

Towards the end of the play, as shadows inward crept, we felt the melancholic turmoil of Hamlet grow. The ensemble set up lights around the outdoor stage, and I inwardly noted the lack of bug-cloud surrounding the dusky lights. The comedic elements waned and the tragic waxed, as Hamlet shouted for Orphelia to "Get thee to a nunnery," and later scolded his mother/aunt for the impropriety and alacrity of her marriage to his uncle.

The play ended as we all knew it must, but Portland doesn't stay morose for long in the summer: exuberant shouts of Naked Bike Ride coincided with the audience's exeunt from the Graveyard. Well done, Portland, Well done.