Sheep Nov 3 This bearded sheep was not drawn, as some Northwest dwellers might think, by the head coach of the Portland Timbers. That's the other Caleb Porter. This sheep was sketched out by the gangly 23-year-old rolling cream-colored paint in the basement of my Portland rental. A tall, red-headed Southerner, Caleb found himself in Portland for a stint with the National Guard. After his National Guard buddy Aaron convinced him to help paint his girlfriend's basement room at the house she had just moved into, Caleb found himself in my living room, drawing a sheep. For about a month Caleb orbited our house and became a semi-permanent fixture on the blue chaise lounge in the corner of the living room. He and Aaron finished painting the basement, (I'm fairly certain the previous bright red color was one of the factors that had driven the former roommate to the brink of a psychotic break.) and suddenly our quiet home was alive with this strange new crew. Along with Caleb and Aaron, the roommates cracked open beers, made sweet potato fries, and played Mystery Date, the 1965 board game in which each player collects three pieces of an outfit to prepare for the young man about to show up at the door. Once you've assembled three pieces of, say, your beach date attire (swimsuit! sandals! smart little cover up!), you open the door to reveal your very own Mystery Date! You hope that the gentleman on the other side also got the memo that you're headed to the coast. More often than not, there seems to be some communication breakdown (why are you wearing a tux? I thought we were going to the beach, not the opera!). Either that, or you open the door to reveal the dud. The dud, we observed, looked a lot like a 25-year-old Portland guy hanging out in front of the Hawthorne Theater, smoking weed before an Anthrax show. These nights of hanging out and laughing in the living room were short-lived. Caleb stopped coming by the house, the blue chaise lounge remained empty, and Mystery Date sat on the bookshelf, collecting dust. The roommates didn't gather in the living room to spend time together. We converged in various combinations, but never all four at the same time. I never would have credited Caleb as the temporary glue of our eventually dysfunctional house, but it seems that he was. Months later we would remember that night playing Mystery Date in the living room, when we thought our house would be lively and fun and one happy family. We were wrong. That happiness wore down, that night was a memory, and this sheep artist was filed under "almost friends."
