Imagine a place where you can cause eyebrows to raise when you mention where you live, where you can cook using your own produce from you own garden and where you can still be a short distance to snowboarding on Mt. Hood, shopping at a New Seasons or a city mall, or the Portland International Airport. Perhaps you’d like to live in a place where you can enjoy the rural country fresh air when you walk your dog or your significant other walks you. Imagine a place where you can have a goat or two, watch an Equestrian show, or not be worried about your roosters waking up the neighbors. There is hope for you .. there is a place call Boring.

Boring, Oregon, developed in 1903 is an unincorporated community – not a village, not a hamlet, not a town, not a city, but a rural community in Oregon off of Highway 26 approximately 15 miles outside of Portland on the way to Mount Hood. Boring is named after a real person, W.H Boring, who homesteaded the area in the 1800’s. His grandson, W.H Boring, at age 91 was still a part of our community until 2002.

Many travel through our community on their way to, or returning from Mount Hood. Some even get here by bike, coming from Milwaukie or Portland via the 40 mile Springwater Corridor. They chuckle as they see some of the signs or drive through the short “Main Street”. They take note of the one open Shell station, and the two convenience stores. Perhaps on their way into town they’ve seen one of the several local nurseries, or our garden centers, Boring Bark and the Boring Square Garden Center. (They get a lot of my support, money, during  the spring)  Yet, if they venture off that main drive through our community, they will discover thriving nurseries that help landscape homes and businesses across America, corporations such as Care Service Options, Inc that provides assistance to seniors and their families in over 15 states, the Oregon campus for Guide Dogs for the Blind providing new life and companions for the blind, or such places as Lieopold Farms who puts fresh strawberries on dining room tables throughout Oregon.

As one “googles” Boring, Oregon you can read some funny stories written by non-locals that felt a need to write home about something “different”. The sign off of Highway 26 that you see here often gets a laugh or two. (See.. it’s not really Boring that is so boring, it’s Oregon City). But there are indeed hidden treasures here. Go ahead and stop by and get a cup of freshly-brewed coffee at Jeff’s Expresso Depot (serving Bridgestone coffee) next to the Post Office. Enjoy a cup of homemade soup at the Full Moon Tavern on the “Main” street. You’ll enjoy not only the soup, but the spirited locals.  By the end of August you can stop in and enjoy a new restaurant in town called The Red Apple which will be serving Chinese and American food.  A new market also recently opened called “The Green Food Market”  We encourage you to support our local businesses.

Oh by the way, you’ve got to stop at our Army Surplus Store on 282nd.

The average Boring Real Estate consists of homes sitting either on acreage, or near one of the two golf courses, or in several of the exceptionally well-maintained neighborhoods. Real Estate here is actually more defined by its opportunities and its rural character as well as its people who call Boring home.  Once people move here, they’re not anxious to leave.

Come visit and discover a treasure.   If you take the time to visit some of the locals, you will see why we don’t feel it is a boring place at all.

Twitter me if you’ll passing through and I’d be happy to take you on a tour of Boring. As the locals will tell you, “It is an Exciting Place to Live”.

“It’s ok Doug, we need to find a way out of here in case the house catches on fire” I said as I tried to convince my brother and little sister to jump out of our 2-story home just a block from Jay’s Tavern in Boring Oregon, on a beautiful sunny day in June 1949.

Like most kids in those days, I had an overactive imagination. We had read adventures like Tom Sawyer, Lassie, and numerous adventures.
In those days, we kids in the neighborhood were not all quite as wild, but almost!  We caught crawdads in a near-by creek.  We later slapped small trout out of the water, like the bears we saw in wild adventure shorts at the movie theatre.   We rode our bikes on rutty logging roads, we had rock fights and the little boys of the day all seemed to go through periods where nailing a target with a big ball of spit was a big deal.  It was an adventure every day.  After all we didn’t have TV.

The idea came when for some unknown reason I became worried that if a fire started in the upstairs bedrooms where we slept we would be burned up.
There was no rope ladder, or any device to aid our escape.  I took the initiative and decided to develop a plan.  It was a dumb plan, but it was better than no plan or so I thought.

So after numerous cajoling urgings I convinced my little brother to jump out of the second story window of our three bedroom home to get experience if we ever had to do so in a fire situation.  Finally I convinced him to do it by jumping first!

I jumped out the window and uttered the then famous yell which then was used by smoke jumpers and parachute jumpers of the day, “Geronimo” I uttered.  This all happened while our little sister watched in quiet horror.  She was timid and not inclined to jumping out of windows, roofs or even bed!  She was a smart little kid.

Our white two-story had green shutters and was directly in line with the green chain at Valberg’s Mill which was about 150 yards from our house.  They had slag burning in the lots next to us, and so fire was a constant factor in the neighborhood.  In those days the air quality was varied and sparks did fly around the neighborhood at times.  This may have been the reason for my concern.
We were also educated early on to “think for your self” as my dad would say.
So that may have been the motivation to jump!  It was a crazy idea but I didn’t think it through to realize we could have had broken necks, bones etc.

So we jumped! I felt the crushing effect in my entire body as I hit the pillow.
I jumped 3 times, and as dumb as it was I could only get Doug to jump twice.
I remember thinking I had enough after the 3rd jump, and declared it a finish on the Fire Drill!
Thank God little sister made the right chice.  She was  the smart one and just looked on with a worried look!   Those were the days! We went on and enjoyed other adventures, and somehow we lived through it though to this day I sometimes wonder!

Frank Ryan –March 2003          #
Frank Ryan
503-408-8402 – fx 503-408-9006
NW Senior & Boomer News
ffmlryan@yahoo.com
http://www.franksseniornews.com/

Our first submission is from a past resident, Frank Ryan, who grew up in Boring:

Dirty Dishes!

As I wandered down the dirt road from our house to Jay’s Tavern I kicked a couple rocks and dreamed about the trout I was gonna catch on my next trip up the White Salmon. I had read Mark Twain’s book, Tom Sawyer, and I often thought I was living the same type of life with a town full of weird and interesting characters.

I walked into Jays, my old mans place, which was right on the main street in town. It was 1949 and we had a hometown bar and grill with a restaurant that served town mill workers from the local employer Valberg’s Lumber Mill. We served locals and families until night. Kids weren’t allowed after dinner hours or after 7:30 pm. Dad was real firm on patrons taking care of their kids and not squandering the pay check at the bar. Some would have if he let them.

Like all kids I wanted money for pop and candy and so I thought, “Wow, if I get those dishes that are stacking up in the sink done maybe Dad will pay me and I can go get some candy!’ It was very busy so I pitched in and got them done.

I didn’t say a word to anyone. I just walked up to the sink, dug out the dish soap, got a dish rag and started washing the glasses and dishes. I knew how as I had seen mom wash dishes and studied the moves so I knew what to do. The old man was amazed!

I still remember the smell of beer, tobacco and food wafting in the air. The taverns of the day had an aroma you seldom sense these days with air conditioning and newer comforts we all consider necessary. These days it amazes me how much comfort we didn’t have in those days, and yet we were happy.

The restaurant did a land office business most days of the week and even on Sunday. The reason was the great hamburgers and fresh home made apple and fruit pies, and the fabulous deli sandwiches that mom concocted. Customers loved those “Dagwood” sandwiches and the many variations mom did with bread and fixins. She would make a sandwich for herself and somebody would say “Hey would you fix me one like that, and then she would make another and another, and sometimes would never get one for herself. Evenings found folks gathering for the roast beef or turkey dinners and those great pies that my grandmother Agnes would fix. But that is another story.

Any way I got in and did those dishes! The old man rubbed his hands together and said, “Frankie I want you to do some things for me and if you do a good job,
I will give you a roll of quarters to play the Bear goes around the Mountain slot
machine and the One armed bandit!”

Later I figured out I could keep some of the quarters and buy candy. Then Dad caught wind of my new found wealth and started paying me by the job, for cleaning the spittoons and dusting the card tables and pool tables. That is the beginning of a long career working for the man. Dad that is! It all started in Boring Oregon, and I later worked for Dad in numerous businesses, over 25 years that he was in various business ventures.

Frank Ryan is in his mid 60s and lives  now in the Portland Area.  He works for a publishing company. His web site is www.franksseniornews.com