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--> --> Aug. 29: L.A. smog or Oregon smoke By Larry Berteau By most measurements it's been a crummy summer. Houses have burned to the ground, forests have been put to the torch, there hasn't been any rain in more than two months, lawns are as brown as a bag at a city hall study session, there's likely to be a baseball strike tomorrow, and the blue sky has been nothing more than a rumor with the smoke hanging over the valley like a ticked-off, cigar puffing genie without a trace of humor - or compassion. ·   ·   · But, as the guy said as he passed the 45th floor on his jump off the Empire State Building, "Hey, it could be worse." Right. Like the San Francisco Giants could be in first place in the National League West - and then there would be the strike. Fortunately(!?) they're mired in third. Also, we could live in Beirut where they don't have a word for "lawn." Or, try Greenland. There aren't many forest fire threats there. In fact, in military parlance, all male personnel being assigned to Greenland were told there was a willing woman behind every tree. ·   ·   · So, in fact, things could be worse. It feels like we live in Los Angeles - or it has felt that way for a couple months, what with the smoke putting on the shroud of a smog bank, transporting Ashland, Talent and the rest of Southern Oregon to the San Fernando Valley. But not quite. Although an angry sun glinting through the smoke has resembled God's disdain for Southern California, we're not quite there. Not (much like the the Empire State jumper) yet, anyway. ·   ·   · When you drive down Siskiyou Boulevard and stop at a traffic light, and someone in the next lane holds up a sign for you to read - like the action on Supulveda Boulevard - then you'll know we've arrived. (The signs read like: "What's your sign?" or "I live in Tarzana, how about you?" or "Wanna have lunch at Hamburger Hamlet?" or "Are you pierced?" or "Nice ride, wanna swap?" or "You have a booger hanging out of your nose.") When you drop in to a local diner for a burger, and your waiter says something like: "Hi, I'm Walter, and I'll be your waiter," which sets your mind to thinking things like: "Gee, I thought you wanted to rotate my tires" or "No kidding, my waiter? I thought you were giving me a ticket for bad ordering" or "Walter? That must explain the name tag," then you'll be in L.A., baby. There would be other clues: Like paying 10 bucks for a movie; consoling your bartender, doing your best to convince him that you, too, feel like he should be a movie star; giving distance to your house in minutes (hours), not miles; chewing gum like a dromedary working over a mouthful of dates; actually paying attention to your tan line, as if skin cancer is a conspiracy dreamed up by Mississippi farmers and that by not having a tan signifies that you have the gross misfortune to have an indoor job; rooting for the L.A. Dodgers, which is akin to only reading pages 33 to 212 in a 250-page novel; wearing $300 Ray Ban sunglasses, $700 dollar Bruno Mali shoes (eat your guilty heart out O.J.), and a $900 Rolex knockoff, on your way to the unemployment office; all these clues and more. ·   ·   · So, hitch up your Wranglers, keep your eyes to the front at stop lights, wiggle your toes through the hole of your Converse sneaks, slide your Timex up your arm and admire the fade line, go on dates rather than chew on them, love your disinterested waiter, and rejoice. Like the jumper said (by now), "Hey, it's only the 10th floor. So far, so good." Larry Berteau is editor of The Tidings. Email your... Technical questions & comments to: WebMaster Daily Tidings editorial comments & questions to: Editor Visit our other Oregon Newspapers... | Albany Democrat-Herald | Ashland Daily Tidings | Corvallis Gazette-Times | | Lebanon Express | Newport News-Times | Springfield News | Cottage Grove Sentinel | Ashland Daily Tidings 1661 Siskiyou Blvd. Ashland, OR 97520 Telephone 541-482-3456 © Copyright 2001 Lee Northwest Publishing