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« USELESS INFORMATION | Main | STRANGE SEEING OAKS PARK A GHOST TOWN IN THE SUMMER »

August 02, 2020

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Every dinner was a memory here. The food would never win culinary awards, it was the people, the place. Hard to explain.

I used to delivery the Oregon Journal to them when I was in grade school. Could always count on a good tip, they always drove a nice New Cadillac and Mrs. Petti would have a cigarette in her hand or mouth.

Across the street (to the right) was Pinky's Union 76. My dad's favorite gas station

My grandmother owned one of those garden court apartment affairs on Johnson Street and my dad lived there before he and my mother moved to Cedar Mill. Many of my dad's favorite merchants were in NW Portland.

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