Proliferation of Oregonians

You can take the girl out of Oregon, but you can’t take the Oregon out of the girl.

In my various stops along the way from Oregon to New Orleans I have bumped into a few Oregonians. Just a few. I can spot them a mile away and most always I feel a kinship with them. They are plain and practical. Plain to me is a complement. Plain is not boring, it means someone who knows what is important in life. We know how to use a hammer, swim in cold water, like the color blue, and appreciate clean, crisp lines.

Aarti (and Ara) smirk when I begin to go on about Oregon. How could anyplace be so fantastically wonderful? And if it is all that, why aren’t you there? And to that all I can say is that I am not called to live there—just to spend several weeks there each summer. Back when Phil and I were “just friends” in college he found my Oregon-worship quite annoying, but I just can’t help it…it’s so GREAT!

So, in another bizarre turn of events here in New Orleans, we have noticed and anecdotally documented that there is an influx of Oregonians here. I teach with an Oregonian. Someone with a Subaru and Oregon plates just moved in down the street from Amy and Marlow and their Subaru with Oregon plates. I was working with a volunteer at school who is a law and MBA student at Tulane—Oregonian to boot! I could go on. Then just driving down the street I see them in their high-mileage-to-the-gallon cars with their cute little Oregon fir tree plates.

How did they get here? Why are there so many? What’s the link? Oregon to Vermont? I get that.

Amy suggests that the people, their friendliness and openness, is very similar. We feel at home here.