French Quarter

Last month, my family and I returned to New Orleans for a funeral. It was my first time back to the city I grew in since a short visit in 2005, a few months before Katrina.

I have vivid memories of my neighborhood, my schools, churches, etc, but I expected everything to look different. For one thing, 1992 was two decades ago. (Egad.) Also, hurricane damage.

I can’t say nothing changed – some high schools were still boarded up, covered in six years’ worth of graffiti, and the French Quarter had only a quarter of the peddlers and artists it once did. And I didn’t see the 9th Ward, which suffered the most. But my neighborhood in particular was shockingly unchanged, to the point where I expected to see billboards advertising Crystal Pepsi and Ross Perot.

My middle school is now a temporary elementary school (another result of Katrina), but the facilities are identical. The church, St. John Bosco, hasn’t changed either, down to the vaguely unsettled feeling I get when I step inside.

St. John Bosco Church

St. Rosalie elementary school has a new extension building, but the original with my old classrooms is still there and in use. It appears a little worse for the wear, but honestly that’s about what it looked like when I attended.

On St. Patrick’s Day we were allowed to wear green shirts (which clashed horribly with the girls’ red plaid skirts), and we’d spend most of the day sitting on that concrete performing skits and singing songs for the principal, Sister Jeanne. (St. Patrick’s Day happened to be her birthday, which she considered to be the more important of the two holidays.)

I can’t say I paid any more attention to the services in this church, but it didn’t frighten me like the other one did. Not hard to see why; it’s quite a bit cheerier.

St. Rosalie Church

After visiting the old schools, we drove through our neighborhood, past the Tastee Donuts down a long street through the suburb. This, too, looked exactly the same. We started to recognize houses and street names. I remembered the turns – all the way down, left at the dead-end, left on Chinkapin Street, which curved around to the right.

Our house was somewhere around the center of this street. We got closer and closer, naming off every single family that had lived in the houses we passed – again, all unchanged. Then we stopped.

Mr. Donnie’s house on the left, the Aycocks’ house on the right. In the middle, a grass lot. Our address, 3852, is still painted on the curb.

It was a shock. The entire neighborhood seemed frozen in the early 90s, minus our home. And there was no wreckage, no evidence of a fire or demolition. Not even the concrete base. Just a grass lot, as if a tornado had whisked our house right off of Chinkapin Street and dumped it on some poor witch with sparkly shoes.

Oddly, Google Maps shows the house still whole and well. I prefer to imagine it in some other-dimensional Oz. For some reason that makes it less unsettling.

I love big musical productions – the orchestra, the costumes, the constantly changing scenery and all the bells and whistles. But truly, it’s the smaller productions that really leave it up to the actors to draw you into the story and their world.

In Beasley’s Christmas Party, currently showing at the Taproot Theatre, four actors cover about a dozen roles, changing characters as quickly and effortlessly as they change hats (literally). In a few cases, one character is actually played, at different times, by two actors, and to hilarious effect.

The tale is based on a short story written by Booth Tarkington in 1909. Set in Indiana, it follows Booth (played by Frank Lawler), as he begins to suspect that gubernatorial candidate Beasley (Don Brady) is…not quite of sound mind. (As evidenced by the man’s chatting with invisible people, racing invisible men, and roughhousing with invisible dogs). He and Beasley’s neighbor Miss Apperthwaite (Lisa Peretti) speculate on the cause, although Miss Apperthwaite, as Booth soon learns, may not be the best person to discuss Beasley with, due to their personal history. Mr. Meyers, a close friend of Beasley, fills Booth in on the secret.

Lawler’s role as Booth is non-stop – if he’s not in a scene, he’s narrating it, and he keeps the pace moving wonderfully. Brady, Peretti, and Lamb are brilliant as the remaining eleven characters – on several occasions they flawlessly switch from one to another mid-scene.

The simple scenery and costumes are fantastic; effective, but allowing the audience to really use their imaginations and see the events as Booth did. And the story is exactly the type of story I want to experience this time of year – funny, charming, and quite heartwarming.

Beasley’s Christmas Party will be playing at the Taproot through December 30th. A special note: at under 90 minutes, there is no intermission, making this a great option for children. Tickets may be purchased online or by calling 206.781.9707.

I think I missed out, not growing up watching Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella starring Julie Andrews on television every Christmas. When I think Cinderella, I think Disney. After seeing the latest production of the former version at 5th Avenue Theatre this week, I’m ready to switch sides.

The entire musical goes by in a flash of glittery, over-the-top costumes and dramatic, constantly changing scenery – the storybook screen used in the opening as the Godmother narrates the famous beginning is the perfect start to this fairy tale, and Lionel’s tap number (performed by Greg McCormick, who shines in his every scene) in “The Prince is Giving a Ball” is a great high energy early number.

The story of Cinderella changes slightly with every new cast, and this one brings a constantly positive vibe to a tale that can easily turn self-pitying or even dark. Allen Fitzpatrick and Cynthia Jones have a lovely duet as King and Queen, and great chemistry with one another throughout the musical. Kendra Kassebaum is absolutely perfect as the Fairy Godmother – it’s hard for me to imagine anyone else singing “Fol-De-Rol” and “Impossible” now. And Suzanne Bouchard is wonderfully wicked as the stepmother, without hedging into “pure evil” territory, which wouldn’t have worked well in this production.

I’ve seen Brandon O’Neill in two other 5th Avenue musicals – Aladdin and Saving Aimee – and I’m becoming more and more of a fan. He’s excellent as Prince Christopher; charming, of course, but as he gets to know Cinderella he shows a slightly awkward, nervous side that makes him even more endearing. And Jennifer Paz is easy to love as Cinderella herself; a difficult role to play, as the character could easily come off as vacant and two-dimensional, but Paz does a wonderful job – particularly in “In My Own Little Corner.”

A special note about the wicked stepsisters: they are hilarious. “Stepsisters’ Lament” was my favorite number of the night – Sarah Rudinoff and Nick Garrison work perfectly together, and without a doubt wear the best costumes of the night:

Other noteworthy moments: the Prince’s facial expressions and interaction with the other ladies at the ball during “The Gavotte,” (much of this is due to excellent choreography by Noah Racey and, as always, an outstanding performance by the orchestra); the subtle showing of growing sympathy for Cinderella by the stepsisters during “When You’re Driving Through The Moonlight”; and the most impressive costume change you may ever see on stage during “It’s Possible.”

Cinderella is playing at the 5th Avenue Theatre in Seattle through December 31, 2011. Tickets are available online.

Then I moved abroad, and for the first time the majority of what I did – my career – was unrelated to music. (I was still a geek, though.) Somehow I became a writer full-time, which was/is awesome and opened a lot of doors and has allowed me to do some pretty cool stuff.

Finding a balance with music and writing has been a struggle for me over the last few years. I might not be teaching marching band, or planning percussion ensemble concerts, or explaining to 6th graders why spit valves should only be used for good and not evil. But I still play music. I’m still a band geek.

So this went up in Publisher’s Marketplace today:

Michelle Schusterman’s I HEART BAND, a new chapter-book series about a French-horn-playing girl and her middle-school friends as they experience all the fun and roller-coaster adventures, dramas and crushes of life as band geeks, to Sarah Fabiny and Jordan Hamessley at Grosset & Dunlap, in a four-book deal, for publication in Summer 2014, by Sarah Davies at the Greenhouse Literary Agency (World).

WHAT.

There is no way for me to say how crazy and awesome this is. It’s been going on four years since I decided to try writing and publishing children’s books, and things moved at a glacial pace, until suddenly they didn’t. After a round of emails and phone calls that went by in a blur, I was officially asked to author a series about band geeks for Penguin.

Unreal.

I’m geeking out. Just a little.

I can’t help it; it’s a personal rule. Coast = seafood, and my favorite seafood is oyster. But I did sample a few other dishes at these restaurants, and nothing disappointed. (And I’m fairly sure that wasn’t just because of all the beer consumed.)

Astoria Coffee House & Bistro

My first thought when Astoria is mentioned is “Goonies,” followed closely by “singing seals.” After this trip, I have to say “awesome food” is also on the list.

This bistro is bright and cheery, with a nice little seating area outside if you’re getting lucky with the weather. I had a cup of creamy clam chowder, a salad with pan-fried oysters, and a tall, super-cold iced coffee – the perfect lunch for an uncharacteristically warm day. But the menu includes plenty of other items that tempted me to break my rule: the espresso BBQ pulled pork sandwich, the Rockfish tacos, and the 3-cheese baked macaroni with béchamel all looked pretty phenomenal.

Wayfarer Restaurant & Lounge

You know you’re in for a good meal when the chef is trying out a few dishes he’s planning presenting to the James Beard Foundation. Chef Josh Archibald is pretty darn passionate about what he does, and the proof is in his food – he can trace all of his ingredients and takes pride in using what’s local.

This was one of my favorite oyster dishes of the trip – an appetizer of raw oysters served with a tiny glass pitcher of chilled champagne vinaigrette with lemon juice and shallots, served on a bed of rock salt with lime. Pour the vinaigrette on the oyster, shoot it back – heaven. The battered and fried razor clams with jalapeño-lime jelly also deserve a mention; if you’ve never had this type of clam, try them here.

Pelican Pub & Brewery

This place specializes in – wait for it – beer and food pairing. That’s a win no matter how you look at it, but made all the better by the facts that they 1) brew their own stuff and 2) have menu that incorporates said brews into the recipe, as well as recommends a pint to go along with it. It’s beer heaven. Beertastic. An exbeerience.

Case in point: stout chili, beer battered fries, pale ale pulled pork. But I, of course, went with the oyster po’ boy. The oysters were dipped in a batter made with Pelican’s own Doryman’s Dark beer. Good? I took a bottle home, if that tells you anything.

Georgie’s Beachside Grill

“You have to try the oysters. They’re from Yaquina Bay.” This is what we were told upon opening our menus – and as you’ve probably figured out, I had no qualms with following orders. The pan fried oysters here were delicious, as were the fish tacos – lightly fried halibut. I’m usually more a fan of grilled when it comes to fish tacos, but these were so delicately done, they may have swayed me to the other side.

If you have the appetite of a small army, I can’t recommend the Diablo Seafood Pasta enough. Fettuccine with shrimp, crab, salmon, and scallops with this creamy, cheesy, sort-of-sweet-and-spicy sauce that is as indulgent as it gets.

My trip to Oregon was kindly sponsored by Travel Oregon and Oregon Coast Visitors Association, but the thoughts and opinions expressed here are my own.

I’m going to skip the introductory formalities and get straight to it: Carolee Carmello as Aimee Semple McPherson is the best leading performance I’ve seen in a musical in ages.

Now that I’ve spoiled the surprise, let’s back up.

Saving Aimee, a musical by Kathie Lee Gifford, David Pomeranz, and David Friedman, is the 5th Avenue Theatre’s current run. I spent the day peering out of my apartment window, hermit-like, at the mass of people and media lining up on 1st Avenue early Thursday morning to catch a peek at The Today Show, which was filming live at Pike Place Market to celebrate and promote opening night.

I knew very little about Aimee Semple McPherson prior to the musical. She was an evangelist in the 1920s, founded a mega-church in Los Angeles, and was involved in some sort of scandal that involved a supposedly false kidnapping used to mask an affair.

The musical presents her story with, obviously, a bit of creative license, but is at the same time quite balanced. Do you believe in evangelist “healers?” Do you think Aimee was a true believer? Or just an incredible actress? Saving Aimee lets you take away what you want to take away.

The set design by Walt Spangler is glorious – two levels framed by wide, white staircases with the orchestra on top, just behind a podium. On the first level, the back of the set opens to provide different backdrops. The opening scene is captivating; bathed in a white light behind the podium, Aimee is literally in the center of the stage space. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away – which is perfect, because you’re in her crowd of devoted followers.

Also notable is the pacing: the entire performance, particularly the first act, flies by. This is largely due to how the story moves seamlessly from Aimee’s present to her past, with dramatic CLICKS and spotlights illuminating lawyers and witnesses on the sides of the stage to recount one of Aimee’s transgressions, then resuming to the scene in which said transgression may or may not be taking place.

And the cast. Judy Kaye is overbearingly wonderful as Aimee’s Bible-thumping mother; their chemistry is perfect as they go from being completely at odds to working toward the same goal and finding a sort of mutual understanding and support. Roz Ryan gives one of the funniest performances in the show as Emma Jo, a former-brothel-owner-turned-convert who becomes Aimee’s right hand woman (and steps in at the last minute to play Moses in one of her over-the-top sermons, to hilarious effect).

Then there’s the men in Aimee’s life – four in particular, which are played by only two. Ed Watts gives such a commanding performance as her first husband, Robert Semple, that like Aimee, you just feel his presence till the very end, despite him vanishing halfway through the first act. Watts also plays David Hutton, a later love interest and actor in Aimee’s sermons. David’s character could not be more different from Robert’s, but Watts makes them equally memorable.

Brandon O’Neill starts out as Mac McPherson, Aimee’s second husband and truly her most sympathetic victim; your heart will break for him. O’Neill also gives an excellent performance as Kenneth Ormiston, Aimee’s radio engineer and a married man with whom she was rumored to have an affair with during the time of her alleged kidnapping.

Two other men bear mentioning, and not just because they’re the only ones Aimee apparently wasn’t involved with romantically: Ed Dixon was dead-on (and hysterical) as Brother Bob, a pastor who loathed what he thought Aimee was doing to Christianity, and Charles Leggett’s performance as Asa Keyes, Aimee’s prosecutor, truly made the audience emphasize with his frustrations during the trial.

And then, like I said at the start, there’s Carolee Carmello. Here’s how she won me over from the very beginning: The play opens close to her trial as she warns her followers that they will be hearing things about her that are not true. In Stand Up!, the opening number, Carmello’s husky, powerful voice is every bit as mesmerizing as the most practiced evangelist.

Then, in a matter of seconds, she tugs off her cape, lets down her hair and becomes a 17 year old girl.

The change in her voice was so startling and so effortless that I actually wondered if somehow I’d missed an actress switch. But no, it’s Carmello – gone from passionate preaching about God to girlish giggling over Shakespeare in a matter of seconds. And her voice…I don’t know how, but young Aimee’s voice in Why Can’t I? and He Will Be My Home was high and clear as a bell, a completely different timbre than adult Aimee, but every bit as powerful.

Liar or healer? Sinner or saint? Regardless of what you decide, Saving Aimee is a story worth listening to.

Buy tickets at the 5th Avenue Theatre’s website.

The result: Cycle Pub.

Nothing can go wrong.

Hooooooooolyshit. (Photos by James Watts)

I was beyond excited to see that Visit Central Oregon had included the Cycle Pub as part of my road trip itinerary. Seriously – drinking delicious Oregon beer? While seeing scenic Bend, Oregon? And burning just enough calories to justify another pint? Genius!

Drinkers pedal this pub-on-wheels around “Bend Ale Trail.” I have to confess that in my mind, I totally thought this was a special path created just for the pub. A nice, fairly flat trail that wound along the outskirts of the town, perhaps passing a few farms or a pond or other harmless things.

Nope.

You cycle through Bend. Like, the town. On the street. Through traffic lights. With cars.

Drinking.

Yep.

A few rules to start with:

1. “Don’t get off the Cycle Pub while it’s moving.”

2. “Don’t high-five passing motorcyclists.”

3. ….That’s it, actually.

We loaded up on the seats (pretty comfy, really!), started with a nice pale ale, and pedaled. With so many people pedaling, it’s actually not hard work at all. (Although the speed bumps were a little challenging.) We headed out of GoodLife Brewing and onto a fairly quiet residential street, sipping and giggling as we figured out a rhythm together. If one or two people pedal extra-hard, the others move but don’t contribute. The group needs to find a balance.

It was at the first hill that it hit me, just how kind of insane this is.

To be fair, the folks at Cycle Pub have their routes mapped out to include as few hills as possible, and none are steep – in a car, you wouldn’t even consider them hills. But when you’ve got a (plastic) pint in one hand and your camera in the other and the driver yells “stop pedaling” and you whoosh down a hill that curves past a lake and a bunch of parked cars and trees and mailboxes while seated on a little stool with no seatbelt…your mind says “Hmm. This could be dangerous.”

Then you have another beer and it’s all good.

The Cycle Pub (and please note that I’m completely sober as I write this) is a ton of fun. You start to feel a bit like a rock star, as Bend locals know about the pub but still grin at the sight of it. Shoppers, children, police – seemed like everyone had a wave and a smile for the group of buzzed cyclists sitting at a red light three seconds too long. You notice how gorgeous the thing is, with its (heavy) wooden roof and sweet paint job, not to mention the couch in the back for those lazy non-peddlers. You get to see downtown Bend, the shops, the park, the scenery – all with your ass glued to a bar stool.

There’s a fine line between genius and insanity, and the Cycle Pub rides it like a tightrope master.

Interested in taking a ride on the Cycle Pub, or maybe in buying one of your own? (Seriously.) Check out their website for more information.

My trip was sponsored by Central Oregon Visitors Association, Oregon Coast Visitors Association, and Travel Oregon, but the thoughts and opinions expressed here are my own.

SO ORANGE. (photo by leojmelsrub)

I think Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ruined a generation (or two) on factory tours for food products. At some point, we start to accept that they’re not magical places where delicious treats are created by happy workers – or dare I hope, Oompa Loompas – all in a clean, colorful, and slightly whimsical environment. They’re just dull assembly lines, all grey and drab and (hopefully) sterile.

Tillamook Cheese Factory is a little more what Wonka had in mind.

Just over 24 hours into our Oregon road trip and I couldn’t even count how many times we were asked, “Have you been to the cheese factory yet?” We arrived at the factory at an hour most would deem too early for cheese, ice cream, and fudge. As if any hour is too early for dairy awesomeness.

The tour is self-guided and fairly brief (the perfect length for kids, in my opinion, not to mention for a group of writers running on fuel made from coffee and beer). There are interactive kiosks and videos scattered here and there, featuring information such as a timeline of the factory itself (dating way back to the first cheesemakers in the area), the process of milking a cow, and the difference between sharp cheddar and extra-sharp cheddar.

But it’s the viewing windows that make this tour magic. Enormous viewing windows that give you a full view down into the factory itself – and it’s anything but dull.

The workers are amazingly chipper (more so than I would be if I had to work surrounded by gawking tourists all day). They look up and wave and smile and wear t-shirts that say things like ALL YOU NEED IS LOAF and I LOAF YOU. They work busily at their spots, scattered all over the floor, surrounded by conveyor belts that loop around them, slanting up and then back down, whizzing bricks of cheese all over the room and vanishing in places that are hard to pinpoint. The speakers over your head are piping out music, a sort of playful jazz flute melody. It’s all so wonderfully cheesy.

And in then in the middle of the madness you see – I kid you not – a giant octopus.

Yeah, okay, it’s made of metal and what looks like rubber tubing. Still. If you squint your eyes and just try to pretend you’re a kid again, it’s totally an octopus, flailing its tentacles around, grabbing bricks of cheese and sealing them up airtight in plastic.

Then you squint harder and see a spoiled, bratty girl walk out on the floor, demanding her father buy her the octopus, along with 100 bricks of cheese and a dozen LOAF THY NEIGHBOR shirts. Despite the factor owner’s insistence that the octopus is not for sale and the girl isn’t even allowed on the floor, she grabs a tentacle and yanks a brick of cheese away. She takes a bite, smiles, then frowns. Her head and stomach get larger and larger and her arm and legs get smaller and smaller and her skin turns yellower and yellower until she is, in fact, a giant, bratty wheel of cheese. The octopus seals her up in plastic, the workers heave her onto a conveyor belt, she is whisked away to wherever it is naughty children who have turned into a delicious dairy product go, and everyone returns to business as usual.

That didn’t really happen. Maybe. I guess you’ll have to visit Tillamook and find out for yourself.

“Oh, I love London society! It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant lunatics. Just what society should be.”

Fans of Irish playwright Oscar Wilde would recognize that quote as one of his as an instant – even if the play in which it appears isn’t his most popular. An Ideal Husband is filled with lines both hilarious and insightful, but this particular quote, in my opinion, completely captures Wilde’s ability to appeal to his upper-class Victorian audience while simultaneously poking fun at them.

And as soon as the play begins, you’re one of them. You thought you were sitting in the Taproot Theatre in Greenwood, didn’t you? But the moment the lights brighten on the set’s backdrop, an enormous, distorted 18th century painting – the moment the first ladies take the stage, gowned, glittering and gorgeous – you cannot possibly anywhere but at a highly fashionable dinner party in 1895.

The plot is just as relevant today as it was well over a century ago. A successful politician has a not-so-small blemish in his past. His wife believes him good – perfect, in fact. His career is on the brink of destruction when a conniving woman attempts to blackmail him.

In this case, Robert Chiltern is our threatened politician, played with intense emotion by Ryan Childers. Candace Vance performs the role of his adoring wife, Lady Chiltern, with the perfect balance of idol-worship – enough so that you believe her and sympathize with her, not so much that she irritates you.

However, she irritates the diamond brooch right off of Mrs. Cheveley, the devilish, seductive, and manipulative former lover of the baron to whom Sir Chiltern foolishly passed on a political secret years ago, in the form of a letter – a letter now in her possession. Nikki Visel is brilliant as Mrs. Chevely; near the end, you’re torn between wanting to hiss when she takes the stage, yet hoping she never exits.

All of the characters sparkle, including the fabulously self-absorbed Mabel Chiltern (Anne Kennedy Brady), the decidedly anti-feminist-but-well-meaning Lady Markby (Pam Nolte) and Lord Caversham, a man too old-fashioned even for the 1800s, performed to grumbly perfection by Nolan Palmer.

Their story is tied together by a dandy. Flippant, carefree, lighthearted – Lord Goring appears first to be the comic relief of the tale, with his quick, off-the-cuff remarks and hilarious observations. If it’s true that Wilde himself is a character in this play, then undoubtedly he is Goring.

But at Taproot, Aaron Lamb plays the dandy, and he does so with the exact balance of whimsy and worry necessary. Goring is friends with the Chilterns, has his own past with Mrs. Cheveley, and just might want a future with Mabel, and as the story progresses his juggling act increases in difficulty, to hilarious effect.

An Ideal Husband begins with light laughs and the first act ends on a serious, dramatic note. The second act is as entertaining as theatre gets – at times it’s difficult to hear the characters due to the belly-laughs and guffaws coming from the crowd. One could not ask for a more elegant evening out.

An Ideal Husband is playing at the Taproot Theatre in Greenwood, WA through October 22nd, 2011. Purchase your tickets online, or call 206.781.9707 to make a reservation.

]]> http://michelleschusterman.com/2011/10/01/wilde-wit-at-the-taproot-theatre/feed/ 0 Ideal1 musictravelwrite Ideal1 Ideal4 http://michelleschusterman.com/2011/09/25/oregon-in-one-breath/ http://michelleschusterman.com/2011/09/25/oregon-in-one-breath/#comments Mon, 26 Sep 2011 06:26:28 +0000 Michelle Schusterman http://michelleschusterman.com/?p=2391 ]]> Last week I took a road trip with a great group of people through Oregon, down the coast and into the desert. Our itinerary was packed with so many incredible sights, eats and activities that it’s a little too tempting to use the word “whirlwind” to describe it. More posts are on the way to zoom in on some of the more amazing parts of the trip – Goonies! Cyclepubs! Deconstructed s’mores! – but for now, here’s how the week felt, in one breath.

Succeeding where Chester Copperpot failed.

Cross the Columbia to a singing seal chorus, round one of oysters (on salad, it’s healthy), count all the shipwrecks, spiraling staircase, nausea and vertigo and great tower views, slide into the front seat and roll down the windows, stare down at Cannon Beach with doubloon at eye level, round two of oysters (raw with champagne!), sleep and wake up to the sound of the waves, biofuel and coffee fuel, cheese flying down twisting conveyor belts to jazz flute musak, cinnamon buns for breakfast in ice cream form, round three of oysters (beer battered!) and six types of beer (holy shit it’s only noon), ankle-deep in the Pacific before a steep sand dune (can you sandboard it? turns out no), coffee and windows down again, round four of oysters (fresh from right down the road!), into the desert with hot latte in hand, pork belly and pizza next to the railroad, turn 360 to see all the volcanoes, cycle through the streets on a pub built for fourteen, waving beers at cops (but don’t high five passing motorcyclists), immense sunset followed by fire followed by sleep, high desert with raptors, porcupines and sleepy otters, calorie-free croque monsieurs and caffeinated coffee cupping, vodka infusions with peppers, basil, and ginger, wine paired with quail and cherries (also calorie free), cabins with tubs that fill from the ceiling, back in the van, back on the coffee, it’s Portland! it’s pork! plus a little ice cream (next to a diet clinic), seat buckles barely click, music blasting and border.

Whew.

My trip was sponsored by Central Oregon Visitors Association, Oregon Coast Visitors Association, and Travel Oregon, but the thoughts and opinions expressed here are my own.