Treasuring the Day: Rock me mama

We just got back from 10 days in Oregon and Washington, a trip planned around doing some of our favorite things; attending concerts (if they are outdoors, all the better), browsing around little ocean side towns, drinking in the sea air and some time spent in a few bars (preferably a combination of both some upscale and some seedy). What I love best about travelling are the encounters with the unexpected; this can sometimes take the form of the magnificent and shockingly beautiful-like that ancient church you duck into just because it is recommended in a guide book, or to get out of the rain, and then are blown away by the stained glass, overcome with a sense of the holy and divine. Sometimes these unexpected moments are staggering in their grotesqueness, their atrociousness and sometimes these moments are etched in your memory for the simple oddballness of them.

And truly,the term "oddball" only hints at the strangeness of a little town on the west coast of Washington called Forks. Forks, population approximately 3500 (humans) and an undisclosed number of vampires existed for the last hundred years as a logging town and although within an easy 1/2 hour drive of spectacular scenery, the town itself is lacking any particular scenic charm. With the downturn in the economy, Fork's citizens have mostly depended on the 2 nearby correction facilities for employment. However, Forks was recently put on the tourist map by Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Series. According to Wiki, tourism has increased 600% since the series which is set in Forks came out. Signs that the town has enthusiastically and, I imagine, gratefully welcomed the new found popularity abound. The camp wood for sale as one enters the town guarantees that burning the wood will protect oneself from vampires and stores flourish with Twilight paraphernalia while vans offer exciting tours. However, signs that the town hasn't exactly turned its back on its roots also proliferate. The local eatery called, "'The Restaurant" sports mounted deer heads and specializes in flapjacks the size of catcher's mitts and coffee served in chipped dingy-white mugs. An antique/book store/restaurant that advertised "internet" and "coffee shop" couldn't actually offer coffee because their water had been shut off but with great pride the grizzled and affable owner guided me over to their internet station which consisted of a commodore 64 vintage computer that took so long to boot up Tom was able to consume two of their specialty chocolate chip cookies. But the sublime, the unexpected, the truly wondrous moment occurred when our ears pricked up to the sound of banjo coming from the rear of the store. We meandered down to hear a local band perched among the old teacups and dusty vases, practicing for what I imagine will be their appearance at the local fair or hoedown or country wedding.

Fast forward to about 4:00 to hear Forks townsfolk covering Bob Dylan's "Rock me Mama".