In the Valley

I made the short, but all to infrequent drive over the mountains last night to arrive in the Eden that is Eugene. It really feels like a garden here. Everything is green, moist, and alive. In Bend it is dry and dead this time of year. It feels good to be back in the valley, strolling around campus, sipping coffee, and making fun of the undergrads who can't get it together enough to put on anything else but sweatpants before their morning classes.

I was greeted last night by the members of the history posse who remain in Eugene and Fernando who made the drive up from N. CA. It was a fantastic way to be welcomed back to Eugene and could only have been made better by the presence of the departed members of the history posse. We actually were a posse, Old West Style. We were deputized (GTFs) by the sheriff (Profs), chased villains (un-interested undergrads), and doled out punishment when we could ("it's is not the same is its...no A for you). Furthermore, like the torch and pitch fork wielding members of any Old West posse, we weren't doing it for the money as the Sheriff would, we were doing it because we thought it was the right thing to do.

Campus was beautiful as usual, Rebecca gave me some good natured ribbing, and those people who were always at the library reading newspapers for the last two years are still there. It seems life at the U of O continues much as it did when I was there. Even now as I type this I sit in my old office, though at Kungfuramone's former desk. Jeff now occupies the office and has lent it to me as he is off translating the shit out of a Greek test for fifty minutes. I think he'll need a beer afterwards. I'll be happy to supply it.


In short, you can't beat hanging with good people even if there were no pitchforks or torches to be found.