Willamette Week

I regularly get online notices that I can buy USPS “Forever” postage stamps at a big discount from private sellers. Since when does the post office discount its stamps to anyone? It seems like a scam, but it happens so often that I wonder if I am missing out on a good deal. —Skeptical It’s often said that online scammers love to target old people who aren’t terribly savvy about modern technology.

It was warm but overcast the moment I knocked my copy editor into the roaring currents of the White Salmon River. At least, that’s how he has always tried to frame how he ended up overboard during our whitewater rafting adventure last summer. I blame gravity, and not any annoyance over edits I’ve received, for the incident. But if you’ve got a grievance with someone—or just want to enjoy a fun day on the water together—few experiences compare to rafting on the White Salmon.

Wellspent Market founder Jim Dixon has been writing about food and restaurants for Willamette Week for a long time. He wants our readers to eat well, and he shows them how with the recipes he creates just for us by using simple cooking techniques and easy-to-find ingredients. We’d been in Stockholm for a few days when we walked by Meatballs for the People, a restaurant that serves a seemingly endless variety of what’s sometimes called Sweden’s national dish.

Editor’s note: In 2016, WW expanded its Cheap Eats guide to include a road trip. We identified nine diners, food trucks and one boat worth a pit stop when journeying through Oregon. Since then, a few things have changed: Two of our picks have closed, as noted below, and you don’t need to travel to Medford to find an In-N-Out Burger. But maybe you should! This list first appeared in the March 23, 1016, edition of WW. 508 E 1ST ST., NEWBERG.

BETTER CALL THE SLEDGEHAMMER The unchallenged pull quote for your ludicrous puff piece about electroshock [“Saving Mrs. Brown,” WW, June 17] says it’s “miraculous,” “a laying on of hands.” I think the appropriate analogy (suggested to me by a neurologist) would be a laying on of a sledgehammer. The brain damage/memory loss may help you forget why you are so miserable.

It’s the kind of Goodwill score thrifters dream about. Back in January, Portland teenager Quinn Brown found a Wilt Chamberlain Los Angeles Lakers warm-up jacket in the Goodwill Bins. It cost $3.07. Brown suspected it was the real deal, though, based on its worn appearance and some online photo-sleuthing. The stitch patterns seemed to match the jacket the NBA star wore during the 1972 Finals. He was right.

While assembling this year’s Cheap Eats guide (“Portland’s Best Cheap Eats,” WW, June 24, 2026), we asked a few pros outside of our cabal of food writers for tips. In truth, to get the best bites, you need to ask the folks working in the business. We tapped restaurant owners and workers, asking where they score budget meals after a long shift on their feet, when shift meal slop and the same discounted menu items are no longer cutting it.

Portland City Council has finished listening to two days of testimony over the fate of the Lloyd Center, mere weeks before the Northeast Portland indoor mall and ice rink is set to close to the public. The Lloyd Center hearing was meant to be one day long, but so many people—90—signed up to testify on behalf of the mall that City Council decided to spread the meeting across June 24 and 25. Another 50 people testified on behalf of moving forward with the demolition and redevelopment.

U.S. Rep. Suzanne Bonamici (D-Ore.) on Thursday introduced a resolution to impeach Secretary of Education Linda McMahon over the secretary’s commitment to shuttering the U.S. Department of Education. Bonamici, currently Oregon’s longest-serving federal representative, delivered her remarks standing next to a large poster board on the House floor. It featured blown up portraits of President Donald Trump and McMahon with the text, “Dismantling the Dept.

Morning mist rises from the water, the stillness broken only by the slurp of my paddle or the jump of a trout. I head toward a distant bobbing white jug, where my hopes are hanging from about 15 feet of rope. Landing my kayak on the rocks, I toss the anchor ashore and step in—the cold water quite comfortable around my hip waders. Anticipation grows like the twist of rope in my hand, a simmering gambler’s faith that the trap at the other end will be stuffed with crawfish.