On the first Picnic Eve without Steve, a dream

The Portland Writers Picnic is tomorrow at Laurelhurst Park. For the first time, its founder won’t be there, but we’ll hug and talk and take selfies like Steve Arndt would want us to do.

Steve Arndt smiles with friends at the Portland Writers Picnic in 2016. (Laura Stanfill photo)

Steve is with Gigi and me in a room with three chairs. There’s a painting of a dog with an ornate collar on one wall. Someone is cooking breakfast in the adjacent kitchen. Steve looks robust and happy.

Gigi says something about the summer, what she’s doing, and Steve keeps nodding, but I can’t tell what they’re talking about. My chair is too far away.

“Yeah,” Steve says suddenly, enthusiastically. “The bridge goes there.”

I lean in to hear them.

“Where?” I ask, reporter-like. “Where does the bridge go?”

Steve smiles that Steve smile, but he stays silent.

“Eagle Creek,” Gigi tells me. “He wants us to build it there.”

Twister Falls at Eagle Creek, where Steve might or might not have fished. (Facebook photo)

I’d heard Steve talk about fishing in a lot of Oregon rivers, but never Eagle Creek. Maybe, though. He’s clear about the bridge going there.

Gigi pipes up. “We can do that.” She looks at her phone, the calendar app. “Next weekend’s good.”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Tomorrow’s better,” is all he says. We get up and head to the kitchen for coffee and pancakes.

A photo by Laura Stanfill of a funny placard at a past writers picnic.