LEARNING FROM WHERE YOU LIVE, PT.1: NORTH BEND

Ask the North Bend question.

In a reflective moment that soon passed, I asked my Dad which of us grew up in a rougher town.

I felt certain he’d say his town, Ryderwood.

Ryderwood was a logging camp town, a company town with a company store.

The one thing all logging company towns have in common? Loggers.

They are full of loggers, logger’s wives, and logger’s kids.

Score for Ryderwood, Washington at the Vader exit.

Except like all good dads, mine had a surprise answer.

He picked North Bend, then explained why.

“How can North Bend be more badassed than a logging town?” I asked.

He answered with, “Take the industry in North Bend. Logging and fishing don’t attract the gentle natured. There’s a built in animosity between them to prove who’s tougher than the other.”

When the old man explained things like this he showed off his college degree.

It didn’t hurt that he knew so many people. He ran a territory up and down the Oregon coast as an insurance adjuster.

“Okay, North Bend is a harder town because of loggers and fishermen. I see that,” I said.

“Alone, one is bad enough. Look at Powers. Together they pack a punch. Even people from out of state, people in Seattle and Portland, know Coos Bay is the place to fight and f**k on a Saturday night.”

Whatever the salty old dad remembered, I didn’t. I never had one of those Saturday nights growing up.

“That must have happened after I moved away,” I said.

He smiled and said, “Thank you for that. But another element adds to the hard character of North Bend. The biggest catalyst. Mill workers. Too afraid of the woods and ocean, they show up for an indoor job moving wood.”

“Sounds smart.”

“It is, but they have the same pride and ego as the others and will fight to the death, or next free beer, to prove they aren’t the chickenshits they’re accused of being.

“They might be afraid of the dark woods and deep ocean but they’ll fight loggers and fisherman all night. We only had loggers in Ryderwood. They saw who was tough every day. No questions. Not as much to prove unless they were drunk. Then they didn’t care who they fought.

“If girls in town dated out of town guys, they met somewhere else. Nobody came to take our girls out without getting a black eye or bloody nose for showing up.”

I was starting to think this was a bad question to ask.

“What made you choose to raise a family in a tougher town than the one you grew up in?”

“So you could learn from where you live. Parents can only teach so much before you walk out of the house. Did you learn anything?”

I’m still learning from where I live and hope you are, too. An informed citizen is a better neighbor.

Growing up in a tough town prepares you for a bigger life where you meet coddled people who can’t believe anything outside their own experience.

Tell them about a kegger where the night’s challenge was walking on a board over a pit with a big snake at the bottom and it’s a tall tale.

Explain the time you and your buddies jumped in the back of pickup dune buggy at night. The wheel wells in the back were cut out for the over-sized tires. One of the guys got his foot stuck between the steel and rubber until his shoe started smoking.

Civilized people cannot comprehend.

The other thing I learned by asking my old man a simple question? Expect a thoughtful answer.

Expensive education makes that possible. It helps complete answers make sense.

The higher you climb on that tree, the more you see.

North Bend education? Priceless.