Call Me Oregonian

by Kathleen Lewis
Provo, UT

The first mark of an Oregonian is that we actually refer to ourselves as Oregonians. Nobody else in the nation even knows that that’s what you call somebody from Oregon. The second mark of a true Oregonian is a near obsession with the rain. And I’ve got it.

I love the summer sun and fun days at the beach or the park, but nothing makes me feel the way the rain does. I think the only time I find myself disappointed that it’s raining is when I’ve planned an outdoor party (like my birthday party. Sad day. At least we got to play with the parachute). Everybody says they love the way the rain smells, and I do, but even more than that I love how the sky takes on it’s hue of overcast gray and lets out the beautiful pit-pat-pat-pit-pit of raindrops on the world. Can’t you just hear the sound of rain falling in a tin can? Or on the plastic overhang on the side patio? I can.

Oregonians also know how to puddle-hop. This was a talent I took for granted until I moved out of the state for college where my husband and I started dating and going for long walks all the time. Even in the dark I had no problems stepping or daintily (I’m so sure) leaping over the puddles in my path. Meanwhile, my poor, doting hand-holder was walking around with wet feet. I tried to teach him, but to no avail.

Another thing about rain- there are different kinds. Downpour, torrential downpour, just rain, spittle rain (makes me itchy), the list goes on. Just rain, or a good hard rain (especially when you’re already crying anyway) are the kinds that set my heart right.

Perhaps my favorite way to get caught in the rain is wearing a cozy hoodie. I picture myself running in from the parking lot in high school wearing one of the many promotional sweatshirts from the plays I was in. Why on earth did I ever pack those away in a box and leave them at home? I miss them. They are like old friends. So many memories.

Life feels right when it’s raining on the world. Perhaps that’s why I find myself feeling so thrilled every time it rains here in this place I’m in that’s not Oregon. Today about lunch time we heard the thunder roll in loud and booming. I started feeling excited. Then, the torrential downpour began. It was one of those rains that comes down in sheets and makes the spaces in between the color of trees and buildings look white. I couldn’t help myself- I got up from my lunch to join my two year-old nephew on the balcony to watch the rain.

Ahh. Everything is beautiful.

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