A no-shorts vacation to a lovely state

There are lots of sayings having to do with brain power. Sayings like, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks” – false – and “You’re never too old to learn something new,” – true.
Well, I just learned something that I should have known long ago. Something like, “Don’t ever leave an assignment to the last minute before you go on vacation and assume that someone else in the chain of command will discover and correct your mistakes.”
It just won’t happen, folks. In case you don’t know to what I am referring, just forget it. If, on the other hand you caught the glaring errors in my last column, all I can say is “mea culpa.” I will try harder to remember all the stuff that Sister Mary Whatever taught me about grammar, punctuation, syntax, and so on, those many years ago.
Now, let’s get on to a subject to which everyone can relate – vacations. I hope you had, or are planning, a great one. It has been several years since Lady M and I got away and I think we had both forgotten just how helpful a break in routine can be.
We drove through much of Oregon and, I have to tell you, it is one beautiful place. When I came to California – no, not by covered wagon – I swore that, given the choice, I would never live elsewhere. Well, I had the choice and I’m still here. But if – or when – I ever get run out of town, Oregon will be my destination. It is one fantastic state.
Portland is a really beautiful big city. Parks, riverfront trails … trees, trees and more trees. And there is Powell’s, a must-visit bookstore. Put it on your bucket list. I visit bookstores mostly around Christmas to buy for intellectual children, grandchildren and hard-to-buy-for friends, but I would visit there regularly, if I lived in Portland. Kind of like City Lights Bookstore in The City.
Then, there is Bend, Oregon. I hate to say it, but I honestly believe Morgan Hill should examine Bend, carefully. Traffic problems have been solved with roundabouts; Old Town and New Town are as different as night and day; lush landscaping decorates the road sides. All in all, it is a lovely city. Larger than Morgan Hill by a factor of two, but still has a vary small-town feel.
Lady M and I visited friends who moved from Morgan Hill to Portland a year or two ago. We also visited children, grandchildren, and – believe it or not – a great grandchild. Now, if you think playing with a great grandchild might make you feel old, forget it. Being around a cute, brilliant, adorable child makes you feel about as young as you ever have.
I noticed one interesting thing – probably only to me – on our travels. You see, Lady M is always after me to wear shorts and sandals. And this vacation was no exception. Well, she is fighting a losing battle. I don’t feel comfortable with my scrawny legs sticking out from my Dockers. A friend once described me as looking like a cocktail sausage on two toothpicks. How’s that for helping one’s self image?
But on this trip, an amazing fact came to mind. I would say 90 percent of the men I observed on our travels were in shorts and sandals. I was feeling more than just a little bit out of place. Then it dawned on me. Aside from a sitcom where the lead drives a UPS-like truck, no one in movies or TV wears shorts. Don’t believe me? Did you ever see Seinfeld in shorts? No. Or how about Raymond? Or Rambo? Or anyone on Law and Order? Or Saturday Night Live, for that matter. No one!
Now I will admit, I once was in a TV station newsroom and the male news readers had shorts on. BUT you never saw them because he was seated. (Those of us who spent any time in a TV studio know that what goes on beneath the anchor’s desk is worth a book in itself. You know, like setting a person’s pants on fire, or loosening chair fasteners so falling on the floor is a foregone conclusion, and like that.)
So, the fact that I don’t wear shorts and sandals should not be a surprise to you. It just means that after my career as a print media journalist is over, I can probably get a job as a TV sitcom star, or maybe a news anchor. Maybe I can replace Brian Williams, one day. I wonder if he wears shorts that match his perfectly tailored suits and rep ties.
Bet he doesn’t.
Henry “Hank” Miller is a retired rocket scientist, he has an interest in classic automobiles, good conversation, martinis and community affairs. Reach him at ha******@gm***.com.