I fear all those nice folks who recently signed up for the blog expecting political discourse are in for a rude (if temporary) awakening. It’s going to be “Things I did during summer vacation” yet for a while. No worries, the catastrophic thinking always returns… but in the meantime let’s celebrate the glory that is the Pacific Northwest while I work on some longer pieces.

Jacksonville, Oregon, for example is worth a visit, as I found out last week when I was there for something like 12 hours. 2 of those hours were pleasantly spent in a German Biergarten, where the menu spelled the essential terms not always correctly, and had peculiar recommendations for preferred dishes by the Frau. The Mrs., for example, favored Fisch und Chips, you know, that famous German dish.

The duration needed for my beer and Schnitzel sandwich in 95 degrees heat was determined by the fact that throngs of revelers for the Britt Festival got a liquid start at the beer garden, to be then repeatedly picked up by a bus blasting loud Beatles music for a sing-along in anticipation of the concert, ferrying them to the amphitheater. The summer-long festival puts on an impressive array of music, classical and otherwise, seating over 2000 outdoors in a town that counts barely more people as its citizenry.

Founded in 1851 during the gold rush, Jacksonville flourished until the 1880’s when the diminishing returns of mining and being by-passed by the railroad slowed the city’s growth. As an unintended result, the historic buildings of much of old town have been preserved, and have been designated a National Historic District in 1966. The buildings might be historic, but their contents are surely gentrified. A lot of money from the area’s vineyards, horse breeding and tourism is showing up to connect to expensive things, antiques included.

The banner on Jacksonville’s website claims: The historic small town that never gets old. That motto is closer to the truth than one would wish, as a short visit to the historic (and still active) cemetery reveals. So many graves of baby, kids who lived but for 15 days, lovingly maintained since the 18oo’s.

The sections were designated into Jewish, Catholic, Masons and City (the last one perhaps an indication of too many denominations along the protestant branch to be spelled out.)

The sign that caught my interest was that for the Redmen. Ever heard of them? Me neither.

It is one of the oldest fraternal organizations in the US, dating back to 1765 and was eventually named the Improved Order of Red Men. Their remaining count nationally is 15.000 these days. It is a fraternity for White men only, structured after what those White men believed to be tribal Indian government and rituals – here is Wikipedia:

The Order has a three tiered structure. Local units are called “Tribes” and are presided over by a “Sachem” and a board of directors. Local meeting sites are called “Wigwams“. The state level is called the “Reservation” and governed by a “Great Sachem” and “Great Council” or “Board of Chiefs”. The national level is the “Great Council of the United States”. The Great Council consists of the “Great Incohonee” (president), and a “Board of Great Chiefs”, which includes the “Great Senior Sagamore” (first vice-president), “Great Junior Sagamore”, “Great Chief of Records” (secretary), “Great Keeper of the Wampum” and “Prophet” (past president). The headquarters of the Order has been in Waco, Texas, since at least 1979.^[9] They maintain an official museum and library in Waco

And these are the order’s goals:

1. Love of and respect for the American Flag.
2. Preserving our Nation by defending and upholding the principle of free Government. 
3. America and the democratic way of life.
4. Preserving the traditions and history of this great Country.
5. Creating and inspiring a greater love for the United States of America.
6. Helping our fellow men through organized charitable programs.
7. Linking our members together in a common bond of Brotherhood and Friendship.
8. Perpetuating the beautiful legends and traditions of a once-vanishing race and the keeping alive some of the traditional customs, ceremonies, and philosophies.

I couldn’t decide If the last bit on the “vanishing” race or the fact that the order’s auxiliary women’s group was named Pocahontas was the irony that killed me. Luckily I was revived by sights like these, an acorn woodpecker, a bird I had never spotted before.

Music today is also new to me: The Britt Festival commissioned a piece by Christopher Cerrone played by Third Coast Percussion. You have to travel to the Britt to hear it, but here is something from an earlier work:

And here is a tiny desk concert by Third Coast Percussion: