Sail On, Sailor

My dear friend, Jeff Foreman, a lifelong sailor and lover of adventure, passed away in Eugene, Oregon on Saturday, June 8. Born in on May 2, 1952 in Salem, Oregon to Hazel and Neil Foreman, the family later relocated to Eugene in 1958. He attended Willamette High School, graduating in 1970.

Right after high school, Jeff joined the U.S. Army and served as an infantry sergeant in Germany. Following the service, he enrolled at the University of Oregon and received a Bachelor of Science degree in journalism with emphasis in public relations. Following graduation from the UO, Jeff was hired as a reporter and darkroom technician at the Siuslaw News.

Jeff then worked for several weekly newspapers in Oregon, including the Polk County Itemizer-Observer, Independence Sun-Enterprise, Cottage Grove Sentinel, Capital Press and The Springfield News. In 1982, Jeff married Barbara Bierly of Harrisburg in Eugene, Oregon. The couple had two children, Dylan and Duncan Foreman.

In 1984, Jeff transitioned into public relations, working for the Lane Education Service District in Eugene as Information and Communications Manager. He was later promoted to Marketing and District Relations Manager.

In 2000, Jeff was hired in media relations for the Oregon Department of Forestry, where he worked until his retirement.

Jeff had a passion for sailing and owned several sailboats, including the Pura Vida. He primarily sailed the waters of Fern Ridge Reservoir, but also in the San Juan Islands. He enjoyed telling the story of hiring on as first mate on the sailboat for a hair-raising trip from Reedsport, Oregon to San Francisco, California, surviving an intense storm off Cape Blanco.

The tempest began with pounding rain, blustering wind and 30-foot swells. One of the crew fell overboard but was roped to the deck of the sailboat and lived to tell the story. By the time the boat had weathered the storm and eventually reached the approach to the Golden Gate Bridge, they were greeted by a warm sun, calm waters and frolicking dolphins.

Both students at the University of Oregon, Jeff and I first met in 1974 in an upper division literature class entitled “Satire.” A couple years older than the other students in class, we bonded quickly after completing one of the reading assignments titled: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson. It would become an epiphany for us both.

As journalism majors, we took many classes together and worked as reporters at the campus newspaper, the Oregon Daily Emerald, during a watershed moment in America: Vietnam protests, Watergate fallout, free speech movement, civil rights marches. We labored long hours for low wages with only occasional trips to the Pioneer Cemetery for inspiration.

As students, the only game in town was the UO men’s basketball team, with its audacious coach, Dick Harter, and his "Kamikaze Kids" led by Ronnie Lee. We attended all the games, of course, and the Ducks were good, even beating UCLA. Mac Court was intense. The crowd was deafening. The scoreboard swayed. And the old court felt like it might implode. What a rush. 

 

Jeff and I also attended football games but the Ducks had more losses than wins. Attendance was dismal and the weather was lousy. We’d lose to Fresno State and Pacific. As we huddled in the endzone on a gloomy day, Jeff, with a forlorn face, asks: “Do you think we’ll ever go to a bowl game in our lifetime?” “I don’t know, ” I replied. “But if we do, we’re going.”

Moving to Washington after graduation, I returned to Eugene for graduate school in 1981-83, and Jeff and I picked up where we left off. About 15 years after that damp, gloomy day in the endzone at Autzen, the Ducks were inexplicably invited to their first bowl game in 26 years. We both agreed: "We must go," and Barb handled the arrangements.

 

En route, we were delayed for de-icing in Denver, followed by a two-hour layover in Houston. Finding other Duck fans at a table in an airport bar, one inebriated Duck fan became too boisterous, and we were all asked to leave. As we left, the chief instigator of our ejection let out a loud  “Fuck Houston!”  Seizing the moment, Jeff yells out: "And how ‘bout them Ducks!?!”

Meeting my brother, Robert, in Shreveport, it was downright chilly in town on game day. We toured the downtown area and stopped at one of the few businesses open that day called “Fatso’s Sports Bistro.” Afterward, we walked to the game from our motel, well supplied, of course, where the temperature at game time was 20 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

After a comeback Duck victory fueled by quarterback Bill Musgrave, we stormed the field in our delirium. As Jeff joyously slapped shoulder pads with players, our friend Walter Olson surprised him with a blindside tackle on the 50-yard line. It was 10 degrees when we walked back to the hotel, where we watched the entire replay of the game until the wee hours.

In 1988, Jeff and I purchased season football tickets together on the 50-yard line. We wouldn’t regret it. In 1994, we had ringside seats for a dream season that started ominously but turned on a dime when Kenny Wheaton picked off Damon Huard in an epic “reversal-of-fortune” story for the ages. Yes, the Ducks had beaten the mighty Huskies with "The Pick."

The Ducks subsequently ran the table, propelling the team to its first Rose Bowl in 36 years. Naturally, we went to the game in sunny Pasadena and rubbed elbows with Ahmad Rashad and Dan Fouts at the pre-game party at the adjacent golf course. Jeff also ventured with me to the Palouse for another freeze-your-ass-off game against the WSU Cougars.

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We then adjourned to our cabin at Lake Wenatchee to celebrate and pay homage to the great duck gods in the sky, huddling around the council fire and drinking beer, burning slash and spinning fish tales. We both had our ways of making each other laugh. Sometimes all it took was a look, or even an eyebrow, to instigate uproarious fits of laughter.

Toward the end, Jeff weathered his affliction with great patience and good humor. He was a fighter. Each season, we would continue to meet to consummate our annual bet on Duck football. Our last meeting was with Walter at Jeff and Barb’s home for the spring game, where we dined on Coburg Pizza and opened the envelopes from last year’s “bet.” 

Despite an extraordinary season of success with Duck quarterback Bo Nix at the helm, Jeff went against form and won by a nose. Yes, Jeff won our final bet. Watching the game with him and Walter, it was clearly apparent  that despite the ravages on his physical being, his intelligence, spirit, humor and goodness still shined through as brightly as ever.

Auf wiedersehen, mein freund. Thanks for for your loving friendship over the many years we have known one another. I will miss you, to be sure. To quote Tom Petty, “You and I will meet again. When we’re least expecting it, in some far-off place, I will recognize your face. I won’t say good-bye, my friend, for you and I will meet again.” It will likely be in a bar.

Down The Rabbit Hole

When our beloved brother and uncle, Robert Cargni-Mitchell, vanished about this time last year, the family was naturally concerned. A film archivist in Philadelphia, he had also been primary caregiver for wife, Elaine, for two decades. Having informed his family that he had contracted COVID-19, we assumed he had checked himself into a local hospital. Missing for 10 days, Robert was eventually found dead at home.

His passing initiated a yearlong effort to reclaim his belongings from a storage locker located in the Pearl District in downtown Portland. He had maintained the locker for nearly 40 years as he continued to live and work in Philadelphia. The circuitous journey in reclaiming his belongings resembled a trip down the rabbit hole in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, the children's novel written by Lewis Carroll.

My sister managed the project at first, keeping up on Robert's monthly payment schedule while she worked with management of the storage facility, along with the State of Pennsylvania and the State of Oregon, in obtaining legal access and rights to the contents of the locker. After six months of getting the runaround in our attempt to legally obtain rights to our brother's belongings, it was time to "get creative."

After halting payments on the locker, I assumed management of project and began negotiating with the storage facility. Informed that, per Oregon law, delinquent storage accounts require monthly attempts to "contact the owner" for 120 days before taking any action, I explained to the manager that "the owner is deceased." He nonetheless replied they must follow due process before submitting the contents to auction.

For the next four months, we played a "cat and mouse" game of pursuit and evasion with management and employees of the storage facility. I explained that, as immediate family, we should have sole access to the contents of the locker. Meanwhile, I boned up on auction websites and bookmarked the specific site used by the storage facility. I also assured management in no uncertain terms: "I will win the bid."

Researching the auction site for similarly-sized storage units, it appeared most successful bids were about $50. "This might be cheaper than I thought," I speculated. As the auction date approached, I prepared my strategy. It was simple, really. Win at all costs and monitor the website relentlessly as the deadline ticked down to 0:00. The day before the auction, the storage facility called with a surprising proposal.

"Turns out we can't auction your brother's belongings because it's all personal documents," said the manager. "By law, we can only auction consumer goods, not personal stuff. Our regional manager recalls your brother as a well respected film archivist in Philadelphia and theater manager in Portland. We will allow you to clean out the locker for $400 once you submit the required legal paperwork." "It's a deal," I replied.

Sending the required documents, including a death certificate and an affidavit of small estate, the foot-dragging continued. It was clear that communication amongst employees was a not a strong suit of this particular storage facility, and more vaudevillian antics and shenanigans ensued before they finally relented. "You have until the end of April to clean out your brother's locker," the manager noted.

I took three trips to Portland and back with our SUV and utility trailer, and we packed both the car and the trailer full to the gills. Contents included, among other things, thousands of books, hundreds of record albums and comic books, dozens of movie posters, and a plethora of photos and correspondence. "Curiouser and curiouser," thought Alice. "And what is the use of a book without pictures or conversations."

Along with signed biographies of Frank Zappa and R. Crumb and other oddities and curiosities, a key find was this illustration of the artist as a young man.

Robert Emile Cargni-Mitchell, beloved brother and uncle, was indeed a renaissance man.

The Trail Less Traveled

Fifty years ago this week, I was hired by the U.S. Forest Service on the Prairie City Ranger District of the Malheur National Forest, initiating a decade-long career to finance my college education at the University of Oregon School of Journalism. The schedule worked extremely well: two quarters in school and two quarters in the backcountry of the beautiful Northwest.

For the next decade, I worked as a trail dog, wilderness ranger, firefighter, lookout, helitack crew member, tree planter and timber marker for the Malheur National Forest in Oregon and the Wenatchee National Forest in Washington while studying journalism and public relations. For me, it was an ideal way to fund my collegiate endeavors wile exploring the wilds.

Seattle Soiree

For the second year in a row following a two-year hiatus due to the pandemic, the University of Oregon Chapter of the Public Relations Student Society of America ventured north to Seattle for a professional development tour June 19-22. We visited three leading public relations agencies, Edelman, The Fearey Group and Raffetto Herman Communications Strategies.

We also toured two popular local enterprises, Starbucks and the Seattle Kraken. The photo above is what Starbucks looked like when I first wandered into the little shop in the early 1970s looking for orange spice tea, which was quite popular at the time. I also purchased some of their coffee beans. Today, Starbucks is the largest coffeehouse chain in the world.

The first stop on our whirlwind tours: Edelman Public Relations, a global firm with over 6,000 employees in 60 countries. Since the company's founding in 1952, Edelman remains an independent family-run agency. The firm's Seattle office sits atop the 24th floor of the Westlake Tower with stunning views of the waterfront skyline and Elliott Bay (below).

Next was a familiar stop for some of us, The Fearey Group, one of the top public relations firms based in Seattle. CEO/President Aaron Blank has been a great friend of UO PRSSA, hosting our group three times in the last seven years. Executive Vice-President Regan Sheehy and Account Coordinator Ryan Mudgett provide an overview of the agency and fielded questions.

For our final stop of the day, we visited Raffetto Herman Strategic Public Relations, located adjacent to Union Square near the Seattle Convention Center, where we saw UO SOJC grads Kristin Peixotto and Ruby Lewis, both loyal Ducks. Raffetto Herman Strategic Communications focuses primarily on clients in the fields of technology, healthcare and government.

Now four years out from the pandemic, when many started working remotely, all three agencies have reverted to a hybrid schedule of working in the office three days a week, and remotely the other two. The consensus: in the office, the human connection enhances mentoring, while remote schedules provide advantages for agencies spread across multiple time zones.

On Tuesday, UO PRSSA returned to Starbucks Headquarters after touring the facility in January, 2023. Starbucks' Jose Rivas provided a comprehensive tour of the facility, including a visit to the tasting room, where new brews are sampled and evaluated by their "tasting experts." Starbucks is widely acknowledged as initiating the "second wave of coffee culture" in this country.

As a student in the University of Oregon School of Journalism and Communication, I worked my way through college as a wilderness ranger for the U.S. Forest Service at Lake Wenatchee, about 100 miles from Seattle. We would venture to the Pike Place Market on occasion and visit Starbucks, which was basically a small shop tucked away in a corner.

In those days, Starbucks' biggest sellers were orange spice tea and coffee beans. At that time, they did not sell drinks. My, how times have changed. Today, Starbucks, a global enterprise with nearly 40,000 stores in 80 countries, sells hot and cold drinks, whole-bean coffee, expresso, caffe latte, full and loose tea leave, juices, frappuccino beverages and snacks.

Our final stop on the UO PRSSA professional development tour in Seattle was the offices and facility of the Seattle Kraken, the newest franchise in the National Hockey Association. The Kraken are wildly popular in this hockey-starved town, and became the first team to compete in Seattle since the Seattle Totems of the Western Hockey League played their last game in 1975.

Incredibly, the Seattle Kraken qualified for the Stanley Cup playoffs in only their second year of existence. In 2023, the Kraken faced off against the Colorado Avalanche, upsetting the defending Stanley Cup champions in seven games. Touring the Kraken complex, we met Doug (above, throwing the "O"), a proud graduate of the University of Oregon.

In addition to continuing to learn about the practice and profession of public relations from professionals in the Seattle market, it was an opportunity to see the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of the city for those in attendance. Highlights included a trip to the fabled Pike Place Market, Belltown and the Space Needle, built for the 1962 World Fair.

For me, it was also a chance to visit some of my old haunts when I worked in my first public relations position on the Alpine Lakes Planning team for the U.S. Forest Service. Another highlight was reconnecting with former UO PRSSA President Lily Gordon (below, left), now working in public relations for the American Heart Association in Seattle.

Celestial Sensation

An unusually strong solar storm blanketed the Earth in the early morning hours of Saturday, May 11, producing colorful light shows across the entire Northern Hemisphere. In the United States, the northern lights were visible as far south as Alabama and Northern California, as witnessed in this compelling photo taken by the National Park Service along the Rim Drive at Crater Lake National Park located in Southern Oregon.

The sun has produced strong solar flares since Wednesday, May 8, resulting in at least seven outbursts of plasma, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. The flares seem to associated with a sunspot that's 16 times the diameter of the Earth, all part of solar activity ramping up as the sun approaches the peak of its 11-year cycle. The light show made great viewing for photographers and skywatchers alike.

Known as auroras, the northern lights (aurora borealis) and southern lights (aurora australia) are a natural lighting display of dynamic patterns of brilliant colors that appear as curtains, rays, spirals or flickers covering the entire sky. Most commonly seen in the Arctic and Antarctic regions, the recent geomagnetic storms have pushed to aurora borealis much farther south as the sun approaches its solar maximum.

This type of storm allows for even more opportunities for viewing as the sun reaches the peak of its cycle, which has been more active than experts had originally predicted, and it appears more of these impacts will extend into 2025 and 2026. The bottom photo, courtesy of Lake Wenatchee Fire and Rescue, shows the northern lights in Washington over Dirtyface Peak and Lake Wenatchee under a full moon setting in the west.

Stellar Moment

Scott Landsfield, longtime proprietor of Tsunami Books, called it a "stellar moment." On Saturday, May 11, the Eugene bookstore hosted a reading and discussion of my latest published work, Wilderness Strangers: Adventures in Shangri-La. The book describes the enduring friendship of the narrator, Joe, and the novel’s cynosure, Kerry, a wild man of the wilderness.

Skier, kayaker, backpacker, climber, sailor, backcountry gourmet, and lover of life, Kerry is the envy of many of his fellow U.S. Forest Service trail crew workers and wilderness rangers in the Cascades. The novel builds to a powerful denouement in which Joe learns about Kerry's life-long struggle with dysthymia, otherwise known as persistent depressive disorder.

Friends past and present joined us. Some I hadn't seen since before the pandemic: in a few cases, even longer. Though all scheduled speakers had scripted comments, the event morphed into a seamless and organic open discussion, with many poignant questions from the audience. Thanks to all who attended or sent best wishes. It was wonderful.

A Parliament Of Owls

Former Forest Service colleagues, all bonafide members of the Aldo Leopold Society, came from hither and yon to convene at the Owl Conservatory in Plain on April 6-9. Delegates gathered to reminisce and reflect on those halcyon days of wilderness and backcountry adventures, discuss and debate world affairs, view a lunar eclipse and hobnob with fellow owls.

This every-so-often parliament of owls, also known among wilderness aficionados as the Inter-Gallactic Legion Of Owls, spun tales of adventure and derring-do from their days as trail dogs, wilderness rangers, firefighters and lookouts on the Wenatchee National Forest. For more on the subject, check out Wilderness Strangers: Adventures in Shangri-La.