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Articles by Bob Welch
Farewell, Lookout readers: The hour of life is upon me for … puttering
Last week, I had lunch in Portland with a friend who has taught at Carroll College in Helena, Montana, for nearly 40 years. In another time, we were colleagues at the long-gone Journal-American newspaper in Bellevue, Washington. At the end of each school year, Brent drives 11 hours to Portland and spends the better part of three days at Powell’s Books, restocking for summer reading. “Four-six-six,” he said, recounting the hours each day he spent at the store this year. I envied his indulgence.
A skeptical Oregonian finds inspiration aplenty in the Midwest
Most travel comes with a single theme. Business or leisure. A veggie plate or a meat plate. But not both. On a recent trip to the Midwest, my experience was a foot-long shish kebab that had it all: chicken, beef, shrimp, pineapple, tomatoes and more.
An unlikely connection, as COVID set in, takes on a wonderful life of its own
During COVID-19, in an otherwise dark time, a candle of hope flickered for me in the spring of 2020: I made a connection to a sixth-grade teacher and her 23 students at St. Mary School in Taylorville, Ill. Students forced to learn remotely, in front of screens, and miss out on their sixth-grade graduation ceremony and celebratory dinner in St. Louis.
DIY home improvement. What could possibly go wrong?
Whenever you embark on a column about a home improvement project gone wrong, it’s always good to mention similar failures upfront. Realizing you’ve done worse, I believe, sets readers at ease.
As Tim Murff showed, a little kindness can launch a career
Like death by a thousand paper cuts, it’s hard to say what moment convinced Juan “Poncho” Alfonso Garcia he wasn’t worthy. Was it — as a little boy in Guanajuato, Mexico — seldom seeing a father who spent 10 months a year picking grapes in California to keep the family afloat? Was it, at age 15, being fired after only a week on a job at a U.S. asbestos-removal company because he couldn’t speak English? “I cried all the way home,” he says.
A young author turns her challenges into a literary triumph
Last Monday, I found myself in a situation like no other I’ve encountered in my half century of journalism: as an author, interviewing an author, while the author’s grandmother, also an author, looks on. It was an authors’ convention in the living room of a River Road-area house that backs up to a beautiful greenbelt to the west. “So,” I said to the young author across from me, “there are three authors in this room.
Worst part of flying? The automated pay system at the airport parking lot
When I fly, I find only one part of the process truly frightening. It’s not that I’ll oversleep and miss my flight. (I set two alarms.) It’s not the fear of crashing. It’s not even having to sit next to someone who, cell phone to ear, yammers on so loudly at the gate everyone in the vicinity can hear a conversation none of us wants any part of.
Pisgah or Spencer? No, no, it’s not a choice. We love them both.
For area hikers, they are weekly rituals not unlike church or Sabbath: walks to the summits of Spencer Butte and Mount Pisgah for spiritual renewal. Places we go for peace, sustenance and absolution of guilt for having downed copious amounts of potato chips or pizza. In keeping with this religious theme, it is no secret that those who favor the eastern-most of the two geographic challenges sometimes identify as Pisgahpalians.
The curse of being a sports fan is accumulating a catalog of painful memories
“Now is the winter of our discontent.” — Richard, Duke of Gloucester, in Shakespeare’s “King Richard III” In hindsight, perhaps it was an omen. When, on New Year’s Day, Oregon quarterback Dante Moore threw a pick-six interception against Indiana in the Peach Bowl — on the Ducks’ first play from scrimmage — it was a step into the darkest January in UO athletics I can remember. Turns out the 56-22 blowout to the Hoosiers was only the teaser to a month-long miniseries of misery.
As an evangelical who won’t abide Trumpism, it’s been a lonely decade
In the late 1990s, when I was features editor of The Register-Guard, one of my reporters wanted to write about a local Christian organization. I was surprised; this idea seemed out of the wheelhouse for this edgy young writer. She was my polar opposite: young, female and well-pierced, a Cyndi Lauper (“Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”) to my Fred MacMurray (“Chip, can you help Uncle Charlie take out the garbage?”) Goodness, I was an elder in my church. I told her to go for it.
Attempt in 1932 to merge UO, OSU erupted in fierce political combat
Somewhere, in the blur that was December, you may have heard the news that Willamette University in Salem and Pacific University in Forest Grove are merging to form the largest private university in Oregon. It will be known as the University of the Northwest. What you might not know is that nearly a century ago, a similar idea was advanced to combine the University of Oregon and Oregon State into a single school. Its designated location? Corvallis. Yep.
On grace, and why our society could use more of it
On Dec. 4, at the University of Oregon’s Ford Alumni Center, I joined six dozen others for a breakfast whose theme was not what you might expect. The attendees, a cross-section of the community, were not there to discuss education, economics, politics or anything of the like. They had come to discuss the concept of grace. It was billed as “an alumni gathering” of folks who, at some point during the year, had attended a “GraceTables” breakfast of eight people to discuss the same subject.
A few of my favorite Christmas movies: Scroogy and schmaltzy, with Grinches and Kringles
As an unabashed fan of Christmas movies, I feel compelled to share my Top 15 list. A bias: Even if some of my choices are not schmaltzy shows, I’m good with the concept of schmaltz. We live in a world so laced with coldness and cynicism that if we get overly sappy come Christmas time, so be it.
So many things I’m thankful for. What’s on your list?
QuickTake: From Eugene’s lack of traffic jams to waiters who remember my “usual” order to caretakers, teachers and military veterans — I'll take some time today to spread some gratitude. On this Thanksgiving day, I offer my thanks for: Two buttes (Spencer and Skinner), two rivers (the Willamette and the McKenzie) and two major cities (Eugene and Springfield) that complement each other well and help make us who we are as a community.
Leaves, begone! Reluctantly, I play my part in this annual ritual
QuickTake: Eugene's remarkable yearly public works production is underway: rake, blow, scoop, vacuum, haul, mulch, compost. All because of leaves. “And so begins the task I have dreaded the coming of for so long.” — From “Johnny’s Garden,” 1972, by Stephen Stills (with the band Manassas) Today is the day, my great lament. The city of Eugene’s brigade of trucks, front-end loaders and giant leaf-sucking vacuum cleaners will deploy to 16 zones to begin its annual leaf pickup.
Not just a place to eat: This restaurant is the heart of a community
Local restaurants and pubs are ports in the storm: Touches of realness amid the online pomp and posturing. Places to escape the political madness. Steady points in a changing world. Establishments where everybody might not know your name, but a waiter or two might. And sometimes that’s all you need. But they are fragile, given to short lives. Half of all restaurants die within five years. Only a third make it beyond a decade.
Casting for that iconic Northwest fish; how had I never tried this before?
QuickTake: In my seven decades of life, crisscrossing the state on all sorts of adventures, I'd never gone fishing for salmon. It was time to finally check this one off.
Here’s a case where standing on the sidelines is a weighty job indeed
QuickTake: Stepping up to be the “box official” at JV high school football game: Watch out for 225-pound linemen and stay off your phone. “Measure what is measurable …” — Galileo The appointment took a lifetime — 71 years — but when it came I had to remind myself not to let it go to my head. I had been accorded the responsibility of being the “box official” at a Sheldon High School JV football game.
As another summer fades, it’s time to let go and, dare say, relax
QuickTake: Of course change is inevitable. That doesn't mean it’s easy. But I’m learning to appreciate it — even when the change in question is watching another glorious Oregon summer begin to exit the stage. Officially, autumn starts two weeks from today, Sept. 22. But for me it began the Friday of Labor Day weekend when two dozen geese flew low over our backyard. They do this every year just for me.
Autzen Stadium: The good, the bad and the popcorn
QuickTake: Heading into his 40th year attending football games at the venerable stadium, columnist Bob Welch describes what’s best about the experience (‘It never rains,’ of course) and what’s not. Saturday’s Oregon Ducks game against Montana State will mark the 40th year I’ve attended football games at Autzen Stadium. I’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly. I’ve seen Oregon beat the likes of Ohio State, Michigan and USC, and lose to the Huskies 70-21 (2015).
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