150 Years! Wow, that's quite the achievement.
I haven't lived many places, haven't really quite visited that many places either, but no matter where I've gone, where I've lived or how long I've stayed, Oregon is and will always be my home.
I remember, when I was younger, we'd drive back from the airport, either from picking up a relative or dropping someone off. I'd sit in the back seat of the car and be mesmerized by the city lights reflecting off the Willamette River and I always knew I was home. That familiar passage: I-84 from the airport, to I-5 over the Markum Bridge to SW Portland, always reminded me that this is the place I've always wanted to be and was always meant to be. This scene repeats itself whenever I come from a far away place: Boston, LA or Mexico City.
People often move here and find their place, whether it be within the hippies, the preps, the anarchist, the granolas, or the pearl, the suburban mom, the new ages, they find their home.
And I know I've found home.
I love you Oregon, there is no state quite like you.