Find a Safe Place
The cats have taken to the high ground. They build bivouacs in the recesses of warm wooden salad bowls and hide out from dial tones and general solicitors. Your spidey-sense tells you that you’re under inspection but it takes a few moments to pirouette and periscope before you find the location of those wise eyes.

Caught a cool glimpse of PGE Park (home of the Portland Beavers and Timbers) the other night. It was about 10:30 at night and I was walking to the Towne Lounge to hear David Pajo and Holly Throsby perform. When you walk by PGE Park on the East side you’re walking past center-field and the stadium is below you so you have a birds-eye panoramic of the entire stadium. All the bright stadium lights were still on; the Beavers must have finish their game about an hour ago. The grass was an intense green and there was hardly a soul in the stadium except for two or three grounds keepers working the sand and installing new base pads. The whole scene reminded me of this story I wrote in fifth grade about a kid who hides out in a baseball stadium overnight and goes on all these adventures. The story was in the grand tradition of ‘From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler‘. The scene that I was observing at PGE Park the other night was somehow exactly as I had imagined it in fifth grade. I guess I’ve always been captivated by the mystery of deserted ballparks at night. A strange thing to be fascinated with I’m sure.