@quagga
TOO PURE OMG 😭

This extended to getting a haircut: the stylist at great clips said to me, upon learning I was in town for a wedding, "Are you married?"

Confused, I said, "yes."

Her response was, "Then I guess I don't need to tell you to stay away from the bridesmaids!"

I just... what? "It's not that kind of wedding," I said. Which left her baffled, and quiet for the rest of the cut.

Other things that came up this weekend:

Apparently, there is a magical line between home and Portland where I go from being coded as "country woman" to "dude", and I'm not sure where that line falls, except to say that by the time I reached The Dalles, I was getting mean-mugged coming out of the women's bathroom, and when I needed to use the restroom at one of my stops, the guy opened the Men's room for me.

I stopped at the market 20 minutes from home to pick up milk, wearing the same clothes I wore to Portland, and I was ma'am'd .

Breakfast with a friend who didn't make it to the wedding because he was out of town; So good to catch up. SO SO GOOD. Got some confirmation of some of my impressions, left with a full stomach and a full heart. Then began the 6 hour drive home.

Afterparty was great - small and informal, where it's easy to meet new people and chat about things in common. Ended up in my room around 1, and had to be across town for breakfast at 9. So, not enough sleep, for sure, but Sunday morning I found coffee, and I was ready to roll.

For good or for ill, McMenamins still has the best tater tots. A lot of memories wrapped up in the little crispy cajun-seasoned potato packages, going back 2 decades. Hoo.

When I got as much of the reception as I could handle, and most of the folks I knew were starting to filter out, I headed back to the hotel. Decided I'd join the afterparty, but that was gonna be a few hours, so I wandered downtown around the hotel.

Again with the surrealness of the city.

Finally found a group of folks who I know and love. The wedding was beautiful and about everything you'd expect from a skinhead wedding. Just, lovely. Absolutely sweet.

Played catchup in the corner of the reception with my little crew, and my heart is so warmed at how well folks are doing.

Got dressed, got to the venue.

Half the people at the wedding, I didn't recognize because I didn't actually know them. Of the folks I knew, or at least were passing acquaintances with at some point, most I didn't recognize because holy shit, people come into themselves with gender and age, and whoa. I had a few jaw-drop moments when I realized who people were. Like, whoa, the glow-ups. 5 years does a lot. I wonder what 5 years has done for me.

The next day, I wanted to get a haircut before the event. Dropped into what used to be a shop I could drop into without an appointment, at 9am - they still said "walk ins welcome!" on the window. "Do you have an appointment? No? We can get you in at noon." Dang. I need to be at the venue across town at 1. Finally ended up at a great clips, because that was the only place without a wait, and was in and out within like 20 minutes. And for half the price of the boutique barber, too.

I want to use small, non-chain businesses. But ouch.

I think my nostalgia for the time/place/space had more to do with wanting that particular shop than anything.

Anyway, after a bit, being alone, my anxiety and PTSD from previous protests & actions started overwhelming me, and I slipped out. Drove some more; through downtown, through my old neighborhoods, past old hangouts that aren't there anymore.

Driving through town, it felt as though someone had a dream of what the city I lived in for 20 years was like, and they drew a picture of their dream. There were things that were still there, after all this time - but a lot more has changed. The places that meant things to me are mostly gone, or changed beyond recognition.

Although, it's telling that there *aren't* movement elders participating - where did they go?

I mean, I moved away; and a few of the folks I worked with at the time have also moved away.

But also, folks burnt out. There's probably a lot to be said about how little the movement supports itself, how it can chew people up and spit them out. This might be more than tangentially related to fissures in comrade groups.

But then. I was only there for maybe 45 minutes. Certainly not long enough to make any solid conclusions. Just, thoughts churn.

Spent the evening after dinner driving around. I was tired, but also wired. Stopped by the ICE protest, briefly. Felt surreal. Definitely had the whole, "We did this before" feeling - I remember 2017 quite clearly. But this had a different vibe altogether. Definitely a better PA system. They did a good job trashing the building! However, the warmth I experienced the first time around - that was definitely absent. And maybe that's expected: if people don't know why you're there, at this juncture, there's no excuse. I moved through the crowd glancing at eyes, seeing if there were any folks I recognized. No. But again, it's been closer to 6 years since I was involved in street actions and protests there; of course the crowds have changed.

Now, I haven't been involved in the old crew directly, save a few specific friends, in about 5 years. But from the outside, the reason she wasn't invited is because my group of comrades is being controlled by a particular individual's trauma and bad politics. This is a discussion for another time, but it breaks my heart that there's such a fissure. I suspect if I had been there longer, or if I had been thought of at all by the single individual, I wouldn't have been invited, either. But, again, a topic for another time, as I gather my thoughts about it.

Friday was also a day that I spent driving. We celebrated his birthday the night before, and Friday I drove the 6 hours to Portland for the wedding on Saturday.

Had dinner Friday evening with a dear friend/comrade of mine. It was good to see her, and to catch up. It was frustrating and heartbreaking to find out she wasn't invited to the wedding.

Friday the 13th:

My partner's birthday - he turned 45. He's about 8 months older than me. Another one of those birthdays that kind of feel like a major epoch. We've got friends our age who are starting to become grandparents. This is utterly bizarre. I'm not *that* old.

Although, I was told relatively recently that 47 is as old as dirt, by a 22 year old, so. At least we're not as old as dirt? But definitely a reflective time.

So, yeah. 20 years. Weird, man. Real weird.

On the flip side, I am incredibly grateful that I don't have to deal with the end-of-life experiences that some folks I know are going through. Dementia or Alzheimer's, full physical incapacitation - the things my partner's witnessing in his parents, who are a few years older than my mom would be now.

For those of you with parents, I don't envy having to deal with current events, politics, etc when you're not sitting with the same worldview they are. I genuinely have no idea what perspective my mother would have had about current events. She hated Trump; she was a feminist, and he represented everything that was wrong with the world, in her view. I remember that conversation in the '90s.