Showing posts with label Neil Young. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neil Young. Show all posts

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Weasku Inn: August, 2005




One summer when my oldest daughter, Gina, was still attending grad school at the University of Washington in Seattle, we planned a trip to meet her and Laszlo, who at the time was her fiancee and now is her husband, by the Rogue River in Oregon. Since she graduated high school, we rarely spend vacations away together, although we enjoy marathon games of cards, Monopoly, Risk and Power Barons when Gina comes for a visit, in between her visiting her many wonderful friends and her other family.

This was to be a time when the stars aligned, but unfortunate-ly Jay had to work and couldn't make it, so Amy, Julie and I made the trek north while Gina and Laszlo motored south to meet us.






We had been up there with all three kids about nine or ten years before that, and our friends Nick and Christy generously assured us of having a great time by treating us to a jetboat ride and other activities as perfect hosts. Unfortunately, as too often happens, they divorced. Why can't people think of how their divorce impacts their friends and, in particular, me? Christy has been one of Julie's best friends since before they started school, and I really enjoyed drinking Kona coffee in the early morning or beer in the evening while discussing philosophy with Nick, so their break-up hit me particularly hard. Who would play harmonica while I strummed out old Neil Young and Bob Dylan songs on my guitar?





Oh, well, life goes on. Sad to say, I rarely play my guitar these days. Sad from my perspective, I should say, but probably happy for everyone within earshot.









Anyway, Christy now lives in a beautiful place in Scripps Ranch and Nick lives in Ohio when not motoring around the country on his Harley. We selected Weasku Inn as our hotel before leaving home. It sounds like a native American name, but if you break it down, it simply is a welcoming name: We Ask You In. Long ago, Clark Gable used to drive up here to escape the madness of Hollywood and rendezvous with Carole Lombard. A movie buff myself, that certainly added to the appeal of the quaint wooden lodge by a creek in the forest. It proved to be a good choice.