A Safe Place

      Jenna's Utah friends have been in school for two weeks.  Her first day was today.  I told her not to be nervous as all of those who attend Coffenberry today will all be new to the school.  6th graders start middle school.  I think she was excited and nervous.

     The bus picks up at 7:00 a.m.  We left the house early, not quite knowing where the bus stop is.  We crossed the street and waited - hoping that there would be at least one other student who would know if we were standing in the correct spot.  Close enough.

     Fall is in the air - finally.  Some trees have started to turn.  For the first time we saw rain yesterday.  We've been praying for rain.  Rain without lightening. Our county has been in extreme fire danger since we moved here.  Everybody has told us that the summers have never been as hot as this one has. 

I think the hill behidg this house looks like a large haystack

     This morning seemed more promising of cooling off as there was a thick fog hanging over the hills.  I hadn't seen that since we had stayed in McMinnville earlier in April.  So happy to see that again.  We really need the moisture.

It has been smokey, but this is a fog from the river (I'm guessing)

    She forgot her clarinet.  I had planned on stopping by the school to pay for lunch.  I left her clarinet at the front office.  It was still there when I picked her up.  Band was not a part of her schedule.  I went back to the office to find out why.  There was an error and her schedule will change tomorrow.  She'll no longer have crafts.  How sad.  She doesn't want to be in band anyway - especially at the expense of crafts.

     I've been keeping a journal for Jenna since before she was born.  Before she turned ten, I figured she could continue writing on her own.  Often, getting her to write anything is as has proved challenging - though I don't know why.  She's very creative.

     On the last Wednesday in August, we went to a youth center which I discovered as a supplement for after school.  At first she was not at all excited about the idea of going, but went from "being forced to attend at least once a week" to "I'm going everyday"

     We'd gone there for an open house and she received a journal in a raffle - a journal she has actually written in every day since she brought it home.  YEAH!!!!  I'm certain she will have tons to write about now that she's home.

cover of Jenna's new journal

     The fire sign needle had been changed to Moderate.  I don't know if that's for real or if it was an ignorant prank.

Weeding Out the Thorns - both Literally and Figuratively

        Recently I posted to facebook that I really LOVE Oregon - but did not give details. One friend who lives in Oregon asked for details.  I answered her in a private message. I have many friends and family in Utah who may not share my feelings about the hoop-jumping that so many have to deal with in the state of Utah that I did not want to post my number one reason why I like living in Oregon.  I love being in Oregon because it isn't Utah - or more specifically Salt Lake City. I guess it's wrong of me to judge the entire state by just one county.

        Thus far I have not had to jump any hoops - not even to get a driver's license or state plates.  Nor did I have to wait.  I have been treated like a person and not just a number.  I count!  I may have counted in Utah, but I didn't feel like I did.  Especially when it came to voting.  Seriously.  Utah's a Republican state.  Overall I am not.  I vote for the man, not the party.  Often I actually vote against someone. 

        I grew up on the east side of Salt Lake.  I never questioned the government or political issues or even the PTA.  I suppose I just didn't know any better.  I grew up quite naive and though I knew about existing situations - I didn't think I knew any of those circumstances personally.  And then I married Roland and was introduced to deceit and corruption - not by him, necessarily - but by poorly run systems that failed us.  The systems, quite frankly, fail many.  And I know it's everywhere and not just in Utah. That still doesn't make it right.

        I didn't have to deal with thorns on the east side, but the west side was full of thorns - or perhaps it was just in those neglected neighborhoods that we could actually afford.  While the flower itself seems harmless, it has to be mowed or weeded immediately in its yellow stage - otherwise it becomes a vine of thorns which attach themselves to footwear and thus gets tracked in the house.  And it doesn't seem to matter how much I sweep or vacuum, the thorns are always there - on the floor, in the carpet, on the furniture . . . I've had them attach themselves to my socks.  I didn't dare to go barefoot indoors - let alone outdoors. 

        Our grass has always been dry - no matter how much we tend to water it.  Even when it has been green, there are always patches of brown - except for the green stems that bring the thorns.  Our lawn has always been ugly.  Even here.  It is dry.  The cost of water has gone up.  Only a few of our neighbors have green grass.  Most lawns are dry and ugly.  But I can still go outside in my bare feet.  I don't have to wear shoes to take the garbage to the curb or run out to the garage or pick the mail up across the street.  For the most part, I do.  For the most part I wear some kind of footwear because I'm in the habit.  But I don't have to anymore.  The yellow weed flowers in Oregon don't turn into thorns.  This is a good thing.

        I miss the Salt Lake County library system.  I miss having access to public transportation - though it was not always reliable, it was better than whatever may be offered in this county.  There are some things I miss about Utah.  But overall I am happy that I am no longer a resident of Salt Lake.  I really do like it here in Oregon.     

The Emotional Reader

            After finishing "The Rent Collector" by Cameron Wright, I started "Letters for Emily", by the same author.

     While I did not care for the story itself, I did enjoy the message of the letters and the profound metaphors, and even some of the poems that a character in the story leaves as clues for his granddaughter. There is a lot of wisdom given in his advice.  I even found interest in the entire "puzzles" concept - that is a bunch of poems that each contain a password. 

     The characters names are Harry, Laura, Emily, Cara, Bob, Michelle and Greg.  I've formed an opinion on just about each of them which may have damaged my relationship with them.  For much of my attitude (toward the characters themselves) was somewhat cynical.

     The first chapter is written in first person.  We are introduced to Harry - who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  Except for his letters, the rest of the book is written in third person.

     Every Friday after school, Laura takes her seven-year-old daughter, Emily, to see her grandpa, Harry.  Cara is the aide who comes to check on Harry and provides a breakfast and lunch.  I was wondering why not all day. 

     Someone had once explained to me that dementia is like a wheel with several spokes - each spoke is a different dimension of dementia.  Alzheimer's is just one spoke of the dementia wheel.  Thus everybody who has Alzheimer's has some form of dementia, but not everyone who has dementia has Alzheimer's. My mom didn't have Alzheimer's but another form of dementia.  There were times that she was alone, but after we noticed mom's mind was being robbed by the disease, we made it a point to always have someone with her.  It was danger to her to leave her alone.  Who looked after Harry when Cara or Laura weren't there?

     I like Cara - though not a main character.  She has a way with people to accept them and make them feel comfortable.  She doesn't put up with nonsense.  She really does care for Harry and wants what's best for him.

     Laura's a bit insecure in her relationship with Bob, and he seems uninterested in permanent commitments as he seems to have given up on Laura and tolerates his father (Harry) at best.  I don't believe he's taken the time to get to know either one of them.

     Michelle is Bob's sister and Greg is her husband.  Greg is portrayed as a jerk who is far more interested in material possessions than he is in the human race or relations.  It's interesting to watch each of these characters as they to work together - or at least pretend to - as they read through Harry's poems and letters. 

     Harry has left a book of poems (well three books, duplicated, but identical in context and appearance) which contain password for opening each letter.  Though some of the poems are silly, some of them seem profound and thoughtful. 

     I was intrigued by a love poem he had written to Kathryn from Harry.  It was tender.  And the result of the password was intriguing:  "Believe in Love at First Sight." Wow.  What a wrap-up to such a tender poem. And his letters are filled with instructions on how to live - not just for Emily, but for each of us.

     It doesn't take much to get me to cry.  I will often I will allow my emotions to break through while reading or watching some movies.  During a few of these times, whenever Roland has happened to see my tear-stained face, has asked me what's wrong.  For this particular book, it's mostly been triggers.

     First off, the tragedy of having to look at assisted living facilities brought some emotions to the surface.  Those emotions will always be there.  It's a tough thing to have to find a place for a parent who cannot care for self.  It's a tough thing to settle for affordable than to place her where one month worth of paychecks wouldn't even keep her in for a week. 

     I remember looking at one thinking, "my mom will never fit in.  She is not old like these people.  They are ancient relics - not a one is even close to her age. We will all feel like we're just leaving her here to die, and that is NOT what we're doing.  The facility that Corey and I liked the best was really inviting.  At the time we saw it, I would have liked to move in.  It was nice.  It was also out of our price range.  BY A LOT!!!

     I do remember a worker showing us around, and what a positive atmosphere was provided.  She had invited us to eat lunch, though we declined.  She said the patients always had a choice for dinner.  I remember she told us there was one patient who always asked what was on the menu.  She asked each day without fail.  And then she would politely say, "Oh, I think I'll just have a grilled cheese sandwich"

     She also told us about another patient who would dress up every morning, find a work desk, sit down and work for a few hours before moving on.  She said no one really knew what he was doing, but it was always a part of his routine.  I thought of that while reading this book as the family members would read various letters and wonder when he found the time to write them or how he was able to remember.

     Some of the letters themselves would cause triggers as his one about "angels".  In the letter he told the story of his late wife who was a streamstress with a generous heart who had made a dress for a girl who couldn't afford to pay her.  And although it was "just a dress" to Kathryn (Harry's late wife) it meant all the world to Andrea (the girl she had made it for) -  I was reminded of a Christmas when I received a sack of potatoes that I'm certain the giver thought of as "just potatoes" but I still cry over the memory of receiving them and how truly blessed I was to have them.  (see this post) 

     Perhaps it was through this book that I decided to send a letter to a cousin who is getting married.  He was in the fifth grade when his mom passed.  He didn't really get to know her - not the way I had known her.  She was diagnosed with MS when she was pregnant with him.  He never knew her prior to the disease.  I don't know what memories he has of her.  Sometimes reading words about someone gone helps others to have a better understanding and deeper appreciation.  At least it has for me.

     One letter tells about how he had made soufflé and one day he found a recipe for pudding.  Both recipes contained the same ingredients.  I loved the comparison:  "Life is very much like gourmet cooking.  The ingredients we are given are often the same as those that others receive.  It is how the ingredients are put together  - the detail, the time and presentation."  I'm probably more of a pudding person.  Often I carelessly throw the ingredients of life together and hope things work out. Roland is an eternal optimist.  He makes soufflé.

       At the end of the book is a loving tribute from the author to his grandfather as there is a small collection of  poems that his grandfather wrote.  

Easy Money - for her anyway

            When Jenna was three she had learned what goes into the recycling can and what waste goes into the garbage - something her dad and brothers never seemed to catch onto no matter how many times I tried to spell it out for them.  They either just didn't get it, were just too lazy or just didn't care.  Often Jenna and I would scold them.  It was pretty funny when she was the one who called them on it.

            Since we've been in Oregon Roland has improved a great deal.  Still not perfect, but much much better at recycling in Oregon than he was in Salt Lake.

            In Salt Lake there were few who would actually collect the aluminum cans and physically take them to a recycling and get paid so much per pound.  Here, in Oregon, deposits are paid at the time of purchase.  In order to get our deposit back, we need to recycle.  And we can't crush down cans and bottles the way we did in Salt Lake.  The item is deposited into a machine that will read the barcode and tally each bar code read. 

            The machine then spits out a receipt for the total amount of containers returned.  That is then taken to the register of whatever store the machine resides and a deposit is collected - which we should just apply to our next purchase, but somehow we have given Jenna the honors of collecting the cans and water bottles and taking them to the machine and allowing her to keep the money for her part in.

            Jenna's got a good head on her shoulders.   When she is not making money out of recycled products, she is creating.  As I have mentioned in several posts, Jenna had a healthy imagination. 

            The idea behind this creation was to roll paper out as though it were a tongue, and she could tear off the amount needed as one would with tape. 

Picking Pears in Medford

While living in Salt Lake, Roland and I had several opportunities to assist with the welfare program.  When Jenna was in first and second grade, I tried going to the cannery at least one a month. For the most part, the items were actually in bottles and not in cans - at least at the one I went to.

I have been to another location that does actual cans - food like chili, beans, tomato sauce - mostly messy stuff.  Roland and I would work as a team at the pasta plant - or I would team with one of our boys.  We'd assist at the dairy, storehouse, and DI.  All of these locations could be driven to in 20 minutes or less. 

In Oregon we don't seem to have as much opportunity to assist with the Church's welfare program due to our location.  Even to be recipient of the welfare program is a lot different from driving oneself to the storehouse to pick up an order.  From what we are told, orders are shipped from a city larger than Roseburg.

We have not had the need to be recipients of the welfare program in Oregon - and hopefully will not have to rely on that. We had been recipients in Utah probably at least half of Jenna's life (different years off and on). There isn't anything wrong with being recipients - except that it indicates to me tha we are financially disabled.  At the same time I LOVE church cheese and BYU creamery chocolate milk and many products that we get at the bishops storehouse.

The bishops storehouse offers a lot in the way of fresh produce as well as canned goods.  We have had many canned good put out by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Beans, spaghetti sauce, soup, assorted canned vegetables, jellies, honey, peanut butter, fruit.  Of the fruit, we mostly liked the canned peaches and pears and applesauce.

I don't recall a welfare project in which the members canned fruit in Salt Lake. Today I learned that the pears are canned in Idaho.  I have also been told that the Church's only pear farm is located in Medford, Oregon. We were told that 80 volunteers from our stake (church boundary) were needed to pick pears today.

Originally we had planned on taking Jenna with us and have her pick pears with us.  We were told that the youth had to be at least twelve and Jenna just turned eleven in April.  I had tried to make other arrangements for leaving her with someone, but ended up taking her anyway. 

I set the alarm for 3:20 a.m.  We were on the road by 4:00 a.m. and arrived in Medford just before 5:30.  We signed in at 5:30 to 10:00.  We were also told to give ourselves credit for the three hour travel (or whatever other amount was given.)  We ended signing Jenna up to pick with us, no questions asked.  She was fine.  The farm was fine.  No harm. No accident.  I saw some youth there that looked to be a lot younger than her. And I saw some who were obviously in the Young Men's program that weren't working with the same effort that Jenna put in.

Jenna and I had picked pears before at my mom's house.  Picking from an orchard is a lot different than having Brian or Patrick shake the branches while the rest of us glean from the ground.  The government has placed stipulations and the Church is not allowed to use pears that have fallen to the ground.  That is so sad as the amount of pears that have fallen to the ground were many - pears that are still edible.  Pears that fell to the ground when another pear was picked. It was hard having to leave them on the ground.

In addition to her pear tree, my mom also had at least two pine trees in her backyard (they were put there before I got married and continued to grow long after I moved out)  I remember that she would offer to pay the younger grandchildren a penny a pinecone.  I think pears may have been worth more.  I know I spent more time gleaning pears from the ground than picking them off the tree.  I think that honor went to Patrick's family.

The rows of trees were long.  They seemed to get longer as the morning hours pressed forward.  The length between the last pear tree that weighed my bag to "too heavy for comfort" and the bin in which to "carefully let the pears out of the bag" seemed like miles. Their goal was to fill over 100 bins today.  Surely they met their goal before we left Myrtle Creek.  Our stake was told to work the hours between 6:00 and 12:00.  When we arrived, we were told that they wouldn't shut down until after 2:00. 

We had also been told that we'd have access to doughnuts between 8:00 and 10:00.  That's what we were told.  Fortunately we weren't there for the doughnuts as the doughnuts were non-existent.  However we were hungry and had been before our last shift. We stopped off at a McDonald's on our return.

Jenna had been invited to a party that took place at Stanton Park in Canyonville that took place at noon.  Instead of going directly home to Myrtle Creek, we stopped off at the park so that Jenna could be with her friends.  It had been such a long morning and I was so very tired - of course Jenna is the Energizer Bunny who continues to go and never wears out.

The expectations for the party were placed at a much higher value than what actually took place.  I felt bad as I know a lot of planning went into it, and I think everybody made the best of the situation at hand, but I did feel bad for Callie's mom (Callie is the birthday girl) as she had spent several hours preparing for the event -  a lot more hours preparing than what was actually spent.

Though we had arrived 90 minutes after the party supposedly started, the potato salad didn't actually arrive until after we did.  By then, almost everybody had finished eating (though some of the adults did return to get some)

Though the kids seemed to enjoy the idea of having a colored-water fight with water guns and blasters - it was very short lived.  The piñatas that were made came down after only two whacks.  No one else received a turn at whacking.

Though the piñatas themselves seemed well made, not everybody got their fair share of candy as some of the greedier children loaded their bags leaving no thoughts for the others.  Jenna managed to grab three pieces.  The birthday girl ended up with an empty bag.  So all the bags were dumped into the middle and divided up evenly.

I think the most fun that anybody had was in playing "Red Rover" which I think was just an impromptu game that was suggested while Josie and her husband set up for the water activity.

Roland and I, both tired, didn't want to stay for any of it really.  By the time the cake was served, we were more than ready to leave.  But Jenna wanted to stay as Callie hadn't even opened her presents. Casey and Carley's mom said she would bring Jenna home if we wanted to leave.  I expressed my gratitude and told Jenna about our plans.  Just as we got ready to leave, Jenna expressed her desires to go with us.  And now we are home and I am ready to call it a night.

Opening Doors Through Literature

          First of all I would really like to thank Ellen and Sunny for their recommendation of the book "The Rent Collector" by Camron Wright.  I have enjoyed it and actually wouldn't mind having the book in my personal collection.

          I'm intrigued by so much of the story and the situation and dreams and literature.  Though the story itself is fictitious, Stung Meanchey was a real place.  A filthy dump in Cambodia. Three sided huts provided housing to those who worked at the dump.  The documentary "River of Victory" says that there are over 600 of this type housing.  Or at least there were.  The author's notes (Camron Wright on the Rent Collector) indicate that Stung Meanchey was shut down in 2009 and there is no housing at the new location of dumping grounds.

           When I look at pictures taken of those who reside in conditions that I can't even begin to understand, I often question if these people in these situations have dreams and wonder how simple their dreams may be compared to mine.

          It seems their lives would consist more of a day-to-day survival and accepting situation at hand.  I wonder if they wonder if there is better - for they do not own cell phones, or have access to TV.  Many of them (if any) don't even read.  I wonder if they have an understanding on what takes place outside of their world.  I wonder if they dream of leaving a certain situation how their circumstances would change or if they even think about it.

          There are many who constantly wish they had a larger house, a faster car, superior phone reception, the latest computer, touch screen, etc.  Yet for those in third world countries (and yes, they do still exist) what are their dreams?  their goals?

          I had heard of a situation with a family in Romania (I think it was) in which the family lived in a more modern house with electricity but had only one light bulb in which they would move from room to room - whichever was most pressing for light at particular time.  Some Americans, who had stayed with said family, were humbled by their act of kindness given despite their poor circumstances. 

          To reward their kindness, the Americans purchased a carton of light bulbs to give to the family.  There were cries of delight and disbelief to receive such a precious gift.  But even so, the family continued with their ways - removing the light bulb and carrying it from room to room - believing  they could get more mileage and perhaps even sharing the light with their neighbors who had electricity.

          In the story of "The Rent Collector" the narrator, Sang Ly, discovers that "the cow" that collects the rent can read.  Sang Ly decides that she wants to read - believing it will provide opportunity for her son to have an opportunity for a life outside of Stung Meanchey - believing that life outside the dump has to be better. She asks the rent collector to teach her.

          Of course there are different opportunities, different circumstances outside the dump.  Some good.  Some bad.  Our decisions always lead us to some things better and some things that are not.  The example that came to my mind was with a group of slaves that Harriett Tubman had taken out of the south. 

          The escape to freedom was not an easy one, and once the slaves had "escaped" they realized that freedom came with a price and though some situations and circumstance had become better for them, some just were not so great and some thought they'd be better off as slaves.

          We each give up things for our dreams or to help others with their dreams and sometimes our dreams don't live up to our expectations.  Sometimes they surpass our expectations.  There are always things about our current situation that we like.  There are always things we'd rather not deal with.  And we need both to grow.

          Camron Wright used his imagination to introduce the gift of literacy to one particular family living in the circumstances described in the River of Victory.  There are thousands of people who are not literate.  Some dream of how literacy might change their circumstances while many remain ignorant - perhaps by choice, but I think for the most part, the desire to read does not even occur to more than half of the illiterate population.  I think for many, they just don't know any better.

            They don't know about people who diet to lose weight.  They don't know about putting on make-up while looking in the rear view mirror as traffic comes to a standstill.  They don't know about the invention of the toilet or the importance of hygiene.  It's not their fault.  It's just how things are.

          Having a dream to own a light bulb or being taught to read or having a reason to look at the clock - those seem like simple dreams.  And yet there are several who might have those dreams.  The cell phone (or any phone for that matter) and the Internet are foreign concepts.  Perhaps even the idea of sending or receiving mail through the post office.  Why would it for someone who isn't even familiar with reading?

          The rent collector, called "the cow" by some, is not the most desirable person.  It isn't until Sang Ly has a book - a children's book- in her possession when she sees the rent collector as an actual human being and later dares to call her friend.

          The rent collector not only teaches Sang Ly to read but teaches her how to find metaphor in literature.  We learns that something as simple as instructions on how to grow rice can become metaphorical because someone has hand-written "and children" in place of rice.

           

          I love the relationships within the story.  The compassion that Sang Ly has for her son. The concern and love she develops  for a girl who becomes of age.  The remorse she feels for a thief who is killed.  And of course the development of the relationship between Sang Ly and the rent collector. 

          I love the interweaving of the literature and the lessons learned and the symbolic meaning that take place in her own life.  I love the profound statements such as this:  ". . . if every story ended with a handsome prince, there wouldn't be anybody left in the kingdom to stand around and cheer" and I love that it is written in first person.

          This is a book that I will definitely read again.  It's message was quite powerful for me.  I look forward to reading Camron Wright's other works.  It's truly Beautiful!  Thank you Camron Wright for sharing your talents.

The Big City of Roseburg

          I don’t know what exactly freaks me out about driving in Roseburg.  The population is less than half of what I’m used to – but I’m also used to driving on a grid – and having streets that are numbered rather than all names.

          Oregon drivers (as a whole) seem a lot more courteous than Utah drivers – not that Salt Lake accounts for all Utah drivers.  But Salt Lake County makes up for over 1/3 of Utah’s population at  1,029,655. The entire Douglas County has a population of 107,667 with Roseburg population at only 21,181 but still the largest city in the county with the next largest city coming in at 7,810  and then Myrtle Creek at less than half of that – and the numbers go down from there.

          Overall, the state of Oregon has a higher population than does the state of Utah; Oregon residence are just more spread-out throughout the state making their largest counties from 300 – 800 thousand people and most of their smaller counties with still a higher population than the average Utah county (the largest after Salt Lake has less than 600,000 and goes down from there)

Oregon is a very large forest dotted with cities.  Except for the Portland area, it seems you have to drive through a huge amount of forest before the next city.  In Salt Lake it is often not known when you have passed one city and entered another as there doesn’t seem to be a break between them. That's always nice when either your car or stomach are acting up - unlike the county where we currently live.  Can't say the same for the entire state of Utah - as there seem to be a lot more rural cities than what we've found in Oregon.

We’ve been to Grants Pass and Eugene – both in other counties – both much larger than Roseburg.  In fact, Eugene is the second largest city next to Portland, with Oregon’s state capitol, Salem, coming in 3^rd.  Roland is usually always behind the wheel.  I've driven to Canyonville by myself - but I still don't like getting on the freeway - even though I5 has a dense population of cars (at least in Douglas county) as opposed to I15 (the Salt Lake to Provo commute) and one doesn't have to wait in line just to get on the ramp or merge at the speed of light. 

The speed limit posted is 65 except for Semi trucks which is posted at 55.  Often I just stay in the lane with the trucks - except for when they are really slow and have their blinkers on and are  moving in the shoulder lane.  The highways are steep.  They go up and down and wind all over the place.  Our car is even less used to it than I am.  And pulling over too far on the shoulder makes for an unpleasant drop.  I don't understand why there are so few guard rails. 

Some Oregon drivers are ruthless - like tonight.  We were returning from Roseburg when all these cars passed us as though we were standing still - and it was Roland behind the wheel - not me.  Usually we do not see that many cars wiz by.  But the county fair is on - we don't know how far they may have traveled to get to Roseburg in the first place - or how far they have to travel to get to work. 

The big city of Roseburg is not actually all that big.  I just refer to it as such because of the rural area where we are currently living.  It's a 17 - 21 minute drive from where we live.  It is where we go to do major shopping, visit the hospital, attend the cinema, stuff like that. Somebody had told us that Grants Pass was about the same distance and a better drive.  It wasn't.

It took twice the amount of time to get  to Grants Pass as to Roseburg - and though it didn't seem quite as steep, it was definitely a lot more smokey the particular day we chose to go.  I had a massive headache - but I can't complain.  There are firefighters among others who are much closer to the elements than I.

Grants Pass pride in the bears.  Local artists create bears to be displayed along the streets for the summer.  We were told that by the end of summer the bears are auctioned off and new creations are made with each summer.  I know we didn't see all that are found on Google.

Two Down, One to Go

        

         We had been told by our friend (the one who lives in McMinnville) that we would have two months to reside before changing over to Oregon plates and driving.  We’ve been here for almost two months now.

         We somehow believed that we would have to take the tests in the big city of Roseburg, but someone had suggested that we go to Canyonville.  I hadn’t thought of a DMV even existing in Canyonville.  What an awesome thought.

         Roland happened to be off work for pioneer day as he is still on Utah clock.  The South Umpqua ward tries to do something for the days of ’47 to honor the pioneers who traveled across the plains.  I’m told that the pioneer celebration always takes place a week earlier than it does in Utah as Myrtle Creek has its own celebration around the same time as Utah has theirs. 

         So on July 24^th, we went to Canyonville so that Richard could take his test first, and I went across the street with Jenna to take pictures of her playing in the park.  We weren’t there for very long.

Yesterday Roland received his Oregon driver’s license in the mail.  He now has two valid driver’s licenses – one from Oregon and one from Utah.  His Utah was never punched.

         He had seemed nervous about the test for some reason.  I do not know why.  Roland is a great driver.  If he thought he would not be able to pass, what chances would I have at passing?

         The questions had mostly common sense answers.  There really wasn’t anything to be nervous about.  I actually did better at the test than he did.  My Utah driver’s license was punched and I was given a temporary piece of paper.

         Now we just need to change our car plates from Utah to Oregon.  NOT an easy task. ALWAYS red tape in Utah.  It hasn’t ended for us.  I wonder if it ever will.

         For some reason we arrived in Oregon without the title to the car we are currently driving.  We sent an application to Utah to get a replacement title.  Paperwork sent back with the reason that we still owed our credit union for the car.  We DON’T owe our credit union.  The car had been paid off over a year before we moved to Oregon.

         So we get the credit union to send a letter that says we have indeed paid for the car and we return the paperwork to the state of Utah.  It is returned to us again because the letter clears us of a car – it doesn’t give the make or model number. So we call the bank again. 

      They said they would send a certificate for the lean.  They also sent an email so that we could print it up and resend off again.  But the printed copy seems distorted, as we appeared to be out of blue ink.  So I expect that Utah will send it back to us. 

       Meanwhile we have the hard copy – which does appear to be a lot more acceptable than what we printed out.  Meanwhile our two months are running out.  Fortunately I don’t think it will be a major concern right now in Myrtle Creek.  There are certainly more pressing issues going on in our surroundings at this time. 

       There have been so many ideas come to mind about what I’d like to post, but I find that if I don’t write it down the second that I think about it, it often doesn’t get written at all. 

         This morning I take Jenna to school for registration.  She is not excited.