Page 3 of Beck & Coll
“And with your rent, your car note, your bills, and day care. She does more for you than she does for the rest of us. Just shut up and accept it.” I rolled my eyes before turning my attention back to our mother. “Your oldest daughter is needy. She always has to be the center of attention. If you spend two seconds paying more attention to the rest of us, she accuses us of being the favorite.”
“Did you need something, Perkins?” our mom questioned.
“Nah.” Perkins took a seat at the table with us. “The kids are at school, so I’m just hangin’ out.” She turned her gaze on me. “When are you going on this… fishing vacation?”
“It’s not a fishing vacation. It’s an outdoor adventure vacation.”
“And you can’t have outdoor adventures in Jamaica or Cancun like the rest of us?”
I giggled. “I could… if that was my thing, but it’s not.”
“And fishing is your thing?”
I considered her question. “I don’t know if it is or not. That’s why I’m making arrangements to do it. My dad used to take me, but that was a long time ago.”
“Oh. Thank God my daddy ain’t into all that outdoorsy stuff.” Perkins took out her phone and started swiping.
“Anyway,” I said. “Fishing is the thing I’m least looking forward to. I’m more so looking forward to?—”
“You have all that money from your insurance payout, and you’re spending it on a trip only white folks see as fun?” Perkins tapped back into the conversation.
I ignored my sister.
Apparently, our mother peeped the expression on my face because both her eyes and her tone softened when she spoke. “But the resort is fabulous, right? I mean, you have to doall of those… back-breaking activities, but at least when you get done hiking and biking and building campfires by rubbing two sticks together, you get to relax at a luxury resort, right?”
“Right. The resort is fabulous.”
I had not lied to my mother. The minute I picked up my rental from the airport and hit the expressway, I knew the resort would be fabulous. Oregon in general was fabulous. It was fabulous with a beauty that was crafted by God Himself. I could totally see why the white settlers who had wrestled the land from the hands of Indigenous people had quickly qualified it as “God’s country.”
Based on my research before booking the trip, I was well aware that Oregon had a very problematic history as well as a serious lack of racial diversity. I’d been simultaneously very surprised, delighted, and relieved to find a resort owned by African Americans. I could hardly believe that I was not only able to find a resort owned and operated by Black people, but also that when they had suggested an adventure guide to accompany me on my excursions, it was their son, a Black man. I grinned at the thought that I wouldn’t be made to feel like a fly floating in a glass of milk for ten days.
I exited the expressway in a city called Chinook Woods and followed a one-lane road deep into rural Oregon. With the time difference between the Midwest and the Pacific Northwest, it was still early. Though I’d left my hometown at eight in the morning, it wasn’t even noon in Oregon. I read that the weather in the Pacific Northwest could be rainy and overcast, but the day was beautiful, and the sun was shining in its full glory.
Hip Hop from the ’90s played through the rented Subaru's speakers, and I sang loudly along with it, feeling any and all stress leave my body.
“I’m going to have a good time.” I counted those words as a promise I was making to myself. “Even if it’s hard, even if I struggle, even if I want to give up—I’m going to count it a blessing that I get to be here and experience these things.” A thought crossed my mind. “Lord, please don’t let me die on these white people’s mountain, in their forest, or in their water. Amen.”
After driving about another twenty minutes, I came into the small town of Jackson Falls, Oregon. I was greeted by a cheery sign that welcomed me to town and let me know that Jackson Falls was the home of the famousManor at Sienna Sunset Resort.
I drove down the main street of town, taking in the little shops while oohing and ahhing over the town’s cuteness and quaintness. Soon enough, I approached an impressive lawn that was dotted with trees that had been trimmed and pruned to be so round that they looked like they were out of a storybook. The benches, flower gardens, and topiaries that lined each side of the roadway leading up to the main lodge helped build the illusion that you were driving into someplace magical that would transport you to a land of luxury and adventure.
After pulling up to the main lodge, which looked like a high-end log cabin on steroids, and having one attendant valet park my rental while a bellman tended to all of my bags, I was ushered into the lobby. I chided myself for standing in themiddle of the lobby with my mouth wide-open like I had never been anywhere nice. I hadn’t ever been anywhere as nice asManor at Sienna Sunset Resort, but I didn’t have to act brand new, so I snapped my mouth closed.
The space was modern and luxurious but also warm with its white walls and light wood trim. There were cream-colored boucle sofas and armchairs that I couldn’t imagine how they kept clean set up in different areas of the lobby for lounging and conversation. The space was mostly lit with recessed lighting, but there were two matching chandeliers on each end that looked like jewelry because they were so stunning. The floor-to-ceiling windows that lined each wall promoted views of the already snow-capped mountain ranges in the distance, mountain ranges that I planned to hike. The view was breathtaking.
Correction, everything I’d seen so far was breath-taking. I had to take a second to thank God for the gift of vision. Having the opportunity to see vistas like the ones before me was something I had never even imagined. I didn’t even know there was beauty like the beauty I was seeing in the United States.
A smiling Black woman caught my eye from the reception desk. She had that regal, elegant look that older Black women seemed to have mastered. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled off her face into a French roll. There was a curly tendril framing each side of her walnut-colored face. I walked over to her, my smile matching the one she was giving me.
“Welcome toManor at Sienna Sunset Resort. Do you have a reservation?”
“I do.” I practically gushed the words. “I’m assuming that you’re a local. I can’t imagine living everyday surrounded by such gloriousness. What a blessing!” I knew I was being sappy, but I was honestly overwhelmed.
Her grin widened. “I agree. That’s why I talked my husband into buying 386 acres back in 1983.”
“Oh my gosh. Are you Beverly Strong?”
I had done my research, so I knew the resort was owned by Beverly and Bradford Strong. Both husband and wife were from wealthy, well-respected East Coast families. Beverly was a Sumners from Washington D.C.. Her family had founded the Sumners Hair Care Products line. Bradford Strong was from a medical dynasty out of Massachusetts with strong ties to Martha’s Vineyard. His mother, father, uncles, and all five of his siblings were doctors. Bradford was also drawn to medicine, but his passion was animals. He was a very successful veterinarian before he and Mrs. Strong bought the ranch and turned it into a resort.
