a weekend in portland
July 3rd, 2009
My two favorite girls. If only Katie was pictured, we’d have a klugfecta. (Thanks for the photos Joanie!)
After several hours walking around Portland’s Pearl District, I heard a faint, yet familiar noise. At a distance it was unplaceable, but its staccato beat sounded like a 1/4″ ratchet handle in the hands of a quick worker. As a bicycle drew near, I knew it could only be one thing. But no! They were extinct! Could it be, perish the thought, a freewheel, caught in the wild?
Yes.
In a sea of cyclists, a lone soul had protected his right to coast, and in doing so, had torn a hole in the soft underbelly of Portland hipster aesthetics. I was shocked. Furthermore, he was unkempt, and not unkempt in a I-spent-three-hours-trying-to-look-like-a-chic-vagrant sense.
He must have been a recent emigre to Portland from the decidedly less hip outside world.
In Seattle I can walk down Broadway, or through Belltown (avoiding drug deals and muggings) without feeling terribly square. Of course, I’m not exactly a trendsetter, but I’m not exactly awed by people’s abilities to combine thrift store ensembles with neon, oversized sunglasses. In Portland though, I’m intimidated by a bunch of people whose skinny jeaned asses I could assuredly kick. I make Leah order my coffee at Stumptown, afraid I’ll say something stupid. I’m not even well versed enough in the hipster lexicon to feel comfortable in a Portland bike shop. At Powell’s, the world’s coolest bookstore, I find the technical books building and keep to myself with the other proper nerds, in hiding.
It’s not that I don’t like Portland. I do. It’s beautiful and interesting, and well laid out. It has better infrastructure for its size than Seattle. There are good restaurants and attractions. However, it’s just so overrun by underemployed 20-somethings, including the clutch of pan-handlers on every corner who want you to finance their perpetual wanderings. It’s painfully cultural in an exclusive, current and trendy sense. It’s also whiter than the Annual Meeting of the Evangelical Covenant Church, a denomination with outposts of Swedish pride.
More about that.
The whole Klug clan ventured to Portland, not to gawk, but to celebrate with mom on her commissioning and Leah with her ordination. It’s a big accomplishment for both. The closest parallel we’ve arrived at yet is achieving tenure at a university. It demarcates, in some senses, between a job and a career life calling. I’m super proud. We were excited to be surrounded by the support of friends and family, and we took full advantage of the opportunity to celebrate in style, by making dad pay for everything.
In the end, it was a nice break from the realities of a hard month, and an opportunity to get away from home. It was more than a trip; it was significant and fun, and eye-opening. Quality time was had. For Leah, ordination will likely open up new opportunities, and we’re excited to see where that leads us, all in good time. For mom, it’s just as much a form of recognition of the years and years of quality service she’s given to the church.
I will close with this: As a husband and son, nothing makes me more happy than when people show my wife and mother honor, respect and admiration. It’s humbling to get to share life with great people.


