Five Minute Observations

Author: Joe Class III

  • Beaverton: The Carnival Before the Rose Festival

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    Joe Class III
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    Fresh-cut grass. Damp, lush fields of green. Sunlight peeking out from behind the cloud, melting like a pat of butter on a hot grill. Sunday morning, June 21st, 1991, a little after 10 a.m., is when a torrent of rain hit the small carnival in Beaverton, Oregon. Me and the girl I had just met…

  • Rose Festival 1990-Something

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    Joe Class III
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    On top of his Stussy bucket hat sat a stuffed black and white stuffed cow, which wasn’t an unusual sight. Not in Portland during the Rose Festival. Wearing jean shorts, white Reeboks, and a Camel t-shirt, his short almond-colored hair was barely noticeable under the hat. And, unless you got real close, you wouldn’t notice…

  • Don’t You Forget About Me!

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    Joe Class III
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    TIME OUT! Social media is the place we go when we want to see what’s up, what’s new, and what’s next in the lives of our friends and family. It’s where we find out what Aunt Brenda ate for dinner last Tuesday. Instagram photos show you unique places with amazing people, many of whom you…

  • Asking Questions

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    Joe Class III
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    For a brief moment I wanted to lash out, to overreact and attack a friend, all because I didn’t have enough information to make a solid decision. It took me a few days to digest what happened, not because I needed space but a break. I needed to step away and come back with fresh…

  • Still Looking

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    Joe Class III
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    In case anyone was wondering, no. Life isn’t fair. Not that I think it should be. But let me tell you something. If ever there was a time that I was feeling slighted and cheated for my education, experience, and ability to create and draft a story, it would be right now. I’m a storyteller…

  • Does a Living Wage Matter?

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    Joe Class III
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    “What happens when they find out?” The board sat, waiting for the Chief Executive Officer, Donald Gershot, to reply. “Are you referring to Emulsion’s pay scale? The minimum wage in Missouri is $7.25 an hour. Isn’t it? We’re paying them above poverty levels for Missouri, correct?” Looking around the table, Donald waited to see if…

  • “ALL ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC IS SATANIC!”

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    Joe Class III
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    “ALL ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC IS SATANIC!” Me and my friends laughed at him. Well, they did. I was a bit too scared to laugh, as my Dad was a local Southern Baptist church pastor. But in Dublin, California, we didn’t call it Southern Baptist. We moved from Arkansas in the spring of 1980. My…

  • Another Sleepless Morning

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    Joe Class III
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    Chirping. A constant, not altogether unfamiliar chirping sound. Eyes half opened, having laid down to get some sleep minutes earlier, the sound was less aggravating and more irritating. Like nails on a chalkboard, Brad reached for the bedside table, searching for the annoyance to silence it. Permanently. Finding the cordless phone, he considered shutting it…

  • After Hours at McMinimin’s

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    Joe Class III
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    Officer Keyes sat in his patrol car, the door slightly ajar, his left foot dangling, trying to put together pieces of what exactly happened to Kyle Patterson. The EMTs were saying heart attack. The young men who caused all the excitement bailed before Beaverton Police arrived on the scene, and Patterson had a coronary event.…

  • McMinimin’s: An hour later . . .

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    Joe Class III
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    “What’s his name?” Nolan read the EMT’s name tag: Harris. His partner, Garcia, ensured their patient was secure inside the ambulance. It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive, with the Fire Station less than five blocks from McMinimin’s. Nolan shrugged. “You don’t know the name of your bartender?” Garcia said from inside the…

  • McMinimin’s New Bartender

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    Joe Class III
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    Nolan came into McMinimin’s, looking for his favorite bartender, Caitlin, a good old-fashioned Irish girl with ginger hair, a pale complexion accented with freckles, and a few piercings in her left ear. A stranger stood behind the bar, a big man, balding, with a slight hint of a mustache that looked like he’d be attempting…

  • Nolan Hanratty and the 1998 NBA Playoffs

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    Joe Class III
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    Walking through the door of McMinimin’s, Nolan scanned the pub’s interior, looking for a familiar face. It was a bar known by most Portland locals for its locally brewed beers. Even some unfamiliar with the other southwest watering holes knew of McMinimin’s. Nolan came to the bar after work, knowing the next 78 Tri-Met bus…

  • Scouting for a Video Project

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    Joe Class III
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    A thick layer of dust coated a covered loveseat. It wasn’t the only piece of furniture in the room. There was a stack of uncovered chairs, a massive table covered in a canvass-like material, and three candle operas atop the covered table, the candles themselves melted down to the base of each holder. It didn’t…

  • Matt’s Basement Find

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    Joe Class III
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    Tattered and faded, it was a wonder that Matt could read it, much less make out the small, subtle details. It was a touch warm down in the small, cramped basement room. But not enough for sweating. Matt’s heart was racing, excitedly recognizing each symbol belonging to an ancient race of people, which he studied…

  • Geoff & Tony – Next-Door Neighbors Part II

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    Joe Class III
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    I met Geoff through a mutual friend and coworker, John Kirby. Kirby and Geoff were friends back in the day went they both lived in the Mission District of San Francisco. Both men had good jobs, John well on his way to being a professional rock musician, and Geoff working as a manager at Zim’s,…

  • My next-door neighbors 

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    Joe Class III
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    Living in southeast Portland gives you unique experiences, particularly when you are thrust into environments with people you don’t know. In these environments, you discover who you can trust, whom you can’t, and pitfalls to avoid, namely living in large apartment complexes or rundown four-plex homes, like the one, my girlfriend, and our three kids,…

  • “Bee Stings.”

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    Joe Class III
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    Glen’s tongue, thick and heavy from the excessive amounts of Hamm’s he consumed, made it hard to understand any word he spoke with an ‘s’ in it. The foreman of a hot asphalt roofing crew for Loren Smallen, Glen was happiest off the roof, smoke burning between the fingers of his right hand and a…

  • Magic and Glitter

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    Joe Class III
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    Taking my eyes off him? That wasn’t an option. Staring. It was all I could do. Was it the fresh tattoo, tiny droplets of blood running down over the other tats on his arms? Or maybe the fuzzy felt black top hat on his head reminded me of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland?…

  • Who’s Telling the Truth? The Front-Line Worker or the CEO?

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    Joe Class III
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    “Homework, Wes. I hate homework. Especially when I’m trying to figure out if a company as large as yours is listening to and acting on the truth of their culture.” “Well, our culture is excellent. Our performance reviews say it all. Great place to work. Wonderful staff. Management stops and listens to grievances. The vision…

  • Heading to the Swimming Pool

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    Joe Class III
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    “Wait for me!” James screamed, almost out of breath. I think it was a warm June day, somewhere around the second week. School let out a week earlier, and it couldn’t happen fast enough. I dreaded going to school. My teachers weren’t all that nice to me, and, before you ask, no. That’s not an…