During the holidays I become part of the furniture. Since I’ve been in the “journalism” field a while, I understand, and now swear by, that end of the year, take it easy it’s the holidays brand of content provision. I’m tapping out, leaving you with all the wrapping up of 2021 in a hastily tied bow, you know the cliched platitudes, canned info packages, reruns, best of lists and anything else that requires as little thought as possible. Surviving Christmas and 2021 has me striving only to ooze from the old year into the new one.
I’ve been drifting like the tail end of 2021. Speaking of drifts, we received some holiday-appropriate weather in the form of snow that feels more like set decoration than actual winter. A cold, wet, winter wall of snowy drizzle had me contemplating a crawl back into my 2020 fetal position but as I continue to digress, I must say it’s time to get to it. As usual it’s presented in a format
stolen borrowed from the Pittsburgh Orbit.
My Dairyville post was presented in the form of “drive-by journalism” if there even is such a thing. It was all about getting out of the car and dashing through every open door before my camera battery died. “Drive-by journalism” should never be on any syllabus! My main goal was getting to the Alpenrose Dairy, getting there before my memory of what it was was completely erased by whatever it will become.
Dairyville remains a mystery. As a transplant, I arrived too late to see it in action. I combed through the relics and appreciated a last chance to get a sense of the place. I didn’t need much time although the Rusty Nails Magic Shop begs for further research. Between watching a video about the Senior Chorus doing their last shows at the opera house, and getting a heartfelt message from a reader, my investigation into the story and its response pulled at my heartstrings and had me missing something I never really knew–a kind of, what I describe as, astral nostalgia. If that’s not a thing, at least some concept of Dairyville will remain in the dark recesses of my imagination.
For the Portland Orbit, 2021 was not the year to skip the posts we run annually like the Purple Prince Tribute, The July 4th/Flag Tie-in, and the Turkey of St. Johns Memorialization. I touched on other favorite topics like Pole Art, Sad Toys and Interesting Fences. I was finally able to post about Directional Signs and Arrows. Perhaps you noticed that I was also able to root through my metaphorical closet and clean it out to write more editions of my Whatever Happened To Series.
Fences are the comfortable shoes of the blogging world. There’s a feel good story whenever you can stand in front of a well designed fence exhibiting artistic merit. It’s nice to see fences pushing boundaries, sporting more flare than a Friday’s waiter. I don’t ask for much these days in my pursuit of creative distraction.
Blog posts considered misses are on me then I blame the shoddy research department run out of a dusty and cob web strewn unoccupied office–the result of long ago budget cuts. I’d love to make time for research but I wouldn’t have time to write. I could have delved more into the topic of local celebrities. I left out names and I fear I disrespected them. I’ll return to this topic some day. Maybe I’ll fill in the gaps while reporting on another crop of local celebrities. Who knows? My starstruck persona might belong in a separate blog. It reminds me, again, of my transplant status that had me missing out on a Portland upbringing and all the local TV personalities that would have entailed. I keep my Rusty Nails and recent Guppo fascinations alive but my Portland Experience would be sadly adrift without my current gang of local celebrity heroes.
All LAN jokes aside, I have to say I was apprehensive because one of the network names seemed like it would be offensive to someone. But, ah, the Portland Orbit is so under the radar these days there was no one to offend. The story idea felt ingenious highlighting an underworld of creativity hidden in plain, almost, sight. Ultimately, the screen grabbed images weren’t interesting, not when my audience can get an eyeful of abandoned toys, pole art and fascinating fences.
It’s been a tough year. To list what made it challenging would only have me wallowing deep in a few unsavory errors of the past 12 months. I’ll leave it at that, but I can tell you paying the 78 cents postage due on the annual Alzo Boszormeinyi laugh-out-loud Christmas newsletter was worth every penny. Thanks to any and all who made an effort to spread holiday cheer. It’s more necessary than ever and it’s a good reminder to me to keep writing jokes, bringing my brand of “journalism” to the world and to make a little more effort to spread around my own limited supply of holiday cheer.