State of the Re:Union intern Brit McGinnis shares a product of her inspiration from a SOTRU tradition in “Letters to the City.” You can read the “Letters to the City” by visiting our Website (click here): under “Radio Episodes” you can choose which episode you would like to find out more about. Once you choose an episode, the “Letters to the City” will be available for your viewing pleasure on the right side of the page.

Dear Oregon,

Source: Cacophony The "Made in Oregon" sign located at the western end of the Burnside Bridge in Portland, Oregon.

This is really a sad farewell for me, due to my leaving you to take on an internship in Ireland, a country across the sea and much different than yourself. I will miss you, Oregon — you’re such a chill state to hang with! You’re one of the mild-tempered middle children of the Union, the nature-loving, sweater-wearing, sweet-tooth-possessing daughter born on Valentine’s Day.

I first came to know you in the depths of winter (during a record-breaking snowfall, to boot). I was a little girl from California who had never seen snow, and I was boggled by it. The world looked exactly like the black and white postcards I had seen at Christmastime, and the snow-made air was clean and pure. My brothers and I had to gather firewood to feed the burning hearth, and knocked icicles off the roof to munch on with the neighbor kids.

Farewell Bend Park, in Bend, Oregon

But your landscape changed dramatically once summer came around, and goodness knows I loved you for it. The air was clean and arid, especially around the lava fields. The local people retained their famous friendliness throughout the change of seasons, and my family adopted the state as our new home.

Now that I’m older, I see you through different eyes. I can appreciate your  urban wisdom, the street smarts you contain under your scruffy exterior. You are so beloved by your people, who work hard to retain your natural beauty.

People have sometimes tried to make you feel like you aren’t cool, that you are too backwoodsy or don’t have enough big cities. But you just smile to yourself, Oregon, because you know the truth. You’re as awesome as they come. You’re the perfect pit stop between Los Angeles and Seattle, and musicians love to be taken in by your chill, music connoisseur peeps in Eugene or Portland (even Bend sometimes!).

Source: B.D.'s World A replica of one of the original covered wagons that travelled to Oregon in the 1800s.

You are so multifaceted, Oregon. It’s one of the things I love most about you. Farmland, beaches, volcanoes, forests— you’ve got it all. Both the High Desert and the Silicon Forest reside within you. You’re a jill-of-all-trades, with plenty of wonderful things to offer.

I love you, Oregon. You took me in as a scrappy kid from the desert and gave me a home. You also gave me a new heritage, one of pioneers, adventurers and scientists. I will no doubt miss your toughness, confidence, and all-American creativity when I venture from your shores.

Always,

Brit

P.S. There is indeed an Oregonian accent! To achieve it, begin by speaking slowly. Emphasize all “o” sounds, stretch out your “n”s, and make your t- and k-sounds extra harsh. And never forget, it’s “OR-UH-GUN”- not “OAR-EE-GONE.”

One of my favorite parts of State of the Re:Union’s radio episodes, is the Letters to the City. We encourage current and former residents alike to personify their city and pen a letter to it. It is really revealing and quite the door into a community. Letters range greatly in tone. Some adoring, others angry and sometimes a mix of the two. Unfortunately, we’re only able to incorporate two or three letters per episode, but all entries are posted on our website. You can find them on the respective Radio Episode pages in the right hand column under the heading “Letters to the City.”

Las Vegas – Bright Lights, Big City, Small Town is one of the new episodes in our 2011 Spring Season. The SOTRU team was able to tell some incredible stories from one of the most iconic cities in the world . . . stories that you would never have imagined coming out of “Sin City.” We received some fantastic letters to Vegas and there was one in particular that caught my attention mainly because it is really funny, but it’s also extremely colorful and honest. I feel like I got a real sense just from reading the short letter, what it may feel like to live in the city. I’ve posted it below so that you can read it too, but encourage you to visit our Las Vegas page to listen to the full radio episode, read the other letters and enjoy the other collateral we’ve collected from our travels there.

Dear Las Vegas, my city of re-invention:

I came here quite by accident. In a moment of weakness, or temporary insanity, I let my fifteen-year-old male child chose where we would live and my fate was sealed. I know, maybe I didn’t think it through, but it seemed okay at the time. Of course I’d never actually experienced your magic, seen your bright lights, ogled your… attractions. I arrived as a sheltered wayfarer from the real world.

Imagine my surprise when the cute blond in the tennis skirt at the supermarket turned out not to be female. And the guy with the big arms, goofy grin and wild red hair checking out the steaks really was Carrot Top. Elvis even bagged my groceries and helped me to my car. My son wanted to be Tiger Woods (aren’t we glad THAT didn’t happen) and I just wanted to fit in. Which was proving to be more of an adventure than I’d anticipated.

But in your wonderful embrace, where a mob lawyer can become a most beloved mayor, a dancer can grow up to be Lieutenant Governor, a hustler can work himself up to mogul status, I discovered magic. I don’t know what it is: maybe it’s the ever-present sunlight, the air that is dry and crisp like a fine wine, something in the water (what precious little we have), or a bit of that Western mind-your-own-damned-business attitude, but you, Las Vegas, breed reinvention. And acceptance.

When the personal trainer tells me he used to be a professional unicyclist, I nod my head and smile as if this is the most common thing. When the diamond-encrusted lady hosting the charity gala talks about her days as a showgirl and introduces the Chippendales as the entertainment for our luncheon, we all clap politely and smile. Of course, once those young men start disrobing, eating without choking is out of the question, but I digress.

If there is one lesson you’ve taught me, Las Vegas, it’s to be myself, and to trust the world will be okay with that—or not. And it really doesn’t matter. At an age where many think I ought to be put to pasture, I’ve reinvented myself. I play with imaginary friends…and people pay me to do it. Just another square peg you welcomed with open arms. And that has made all the difference.

With undying affection,
Deborah Coonts