My Goonies Adventure

a map and a story get out

Oregon Film Museum.

Adventure begins with a first step.

I remember stepping into the theater. Outside snacks stuffed in my pockets. Elation pumping through my veins. The opening scene causing me to wonder if we were at the right screen. Was that in the previews? In June of 1985 when The Goonies was released, I had just finished first grade and was months shy of my seventh birthday. Summer was made for sun, fun, and discount matinees.

My favorite movies were the ones where I felt a deep personal connection to the characters and not necessarily to the plotline. As an awkward, quirky kid, struggling to figure out where I fit in, I found myself in Mikey, Mouth, Data, and Chunk. The goonies were misfits and so was I. Their families in danger of losing their homes to developers. Already, I knew a little about the ways money and power make the world go ‘round. I also knew what it was like to want something to do on a Saturday to alleviate boredom. Even before The Goonies, I teamed up with siblings, cousins, and friends to search for treasure buried in a backyard sandbox with the help of a hand colored map.

After The Goonies, one of my friends and I tried hard to find the perfect spot to recreate the water slide scene. There was a wooded area at the park where we played. The path was on a slight incline. If only we could flood it and float down from the top landing near the merry-go-round, where the jewels were hidden!

I never in my wildest dreams imagined that one day, the same year The Goonies celebrates its 40th anniversary, that I’d visit Astoria, Oregon where the movie was set and where many of the scenes were filmed. But last week, that’s exactly what I did.

Months ago a seminary friend pastoring at a United Methodist Church in Portland, asked if I was interested in coming out to share my story. Of course I was!

I flew in on a Friday. Poetry Show on Saturday. Preaching on Sunday. I am in and out of a lot of churches lately. The welcome varies. The level of engagement is all over the chart. Each experience is unique. My experience in Portland was unlike any other. It was exceptionally, warmly, graciously, genuinely hospitable.

Chapel @ First UMC Portland, where they set up prayer & meditation stations based on the themes of Unraveling.

Whenever and however I share my story, my goal is to stir reflection. To invite listeners and readers to think deeply and creatively about their own experiences of life and faith and spirituality. To inspire others to understand the power of stories to heal, transform, and connect. To encourage churches to make space for storytelling not only in worship, but in all areas of ministry.

In the sermon that Sunday in Portland, I talked about the day I surrendered my clergy credentials. How when it was suggested I drop them in the mail or leave them on a desk in a dark empty room, I knew I couldn’t do that. Healing requires light and witness. Healing was calling me to make my story heard.

I agonized over how to tell my story that day. How do you capture the pain and promise of such a raw decision in such a few moments? I knew that every word mattered. I wrote and re-wrote. And started over again and again. And more than once wanted to give up.

Ultimately, what I shared that day was inspired by The Goonies. I had accepted the end of my United Methodist ministry and in pointing out the injustice and hypocrisy of the system, offered those in power another way out. I lifted up Chunk’s important question, “But if he killed all his men, how did the map or the story get out?”

Captain Chunk!

Monday morning, I checked out of the hotel early and began the last leg of my adventure. I drove the long scenic route from Portland to Astoria. Holding close to my heart the stories church members shared with me about their own joys and sorrows, hopes for the church, and fears for the world.

Rain slowed me down. Heavy mist added drama. A train stopped on the tracks left me in park for a while. One of the train cars covered in graffiti that included a pirate flag and skull. Curves and winding roads pushed me to pay closer attention. The tall trees, mountains, and rivers all increasing my sense of wonder and awe.

Arriving in Astoria, I felt like a kid in a candy shop, a kid in the movie theater, and a kid whose wildest dream was coming true. I went to the Oregon Film Museum first, housed in the old county jail, site of the opening scene. The Fratelli’s ORV is parked out front, still filled with matzah ball sized bullet holes. I saw Data’s outfit and some of One-Eyed Willy’s jewels. I bought a few souvenirs in the gift shop and had a lively conversation with the attendant. He gave me some tips for navigating around town and shared my devotion to this group of misfits.

My next stop was the Walsh House. I parked a few blocks away and truffle-shuffled up the driveway. It felt like a pilgrimage to a holy site. Like I was visiting a place that while mostly fiction, had a totally real impact on my imagination and creativity, and gave me to courage to just be me. As I headed back to the car, sea lions howling down at the pier, sounded like a symphony. A soundtrack for adventure.

The Walsh House.

I made quick stops at a few other movie sites, like the bowling alley where Chunk watched the police chase, and then set my sights on the coast. Driving to the place where the goonies’ adventure to the buried treasure took a dramatic turn, I remembered the twists and turns of my life. Stepping out of the car, seeing the Pacific Ocean waves, and breathing in the crisp air I could feel my adrenaline pumping. Hiking on the path, realizing I was in the exact spot where Mikey figured out that “the lighthouse, the rock, and the restaurant all fit the doubloon” a sense of calm came over me.

I made it. Not just to Astoria. Not simply to places and scenes from an old favorite movie.

I made it. I made a way to a life that by all accounts wasn’t possible. I made a way to healing that for so long no one—at times not even me—believed in. I made a way to a calling that was cut off by the same people who first guided me to answer it. I made a way from the shame of being labeled a reject and left to fend for myself in a rough sea.

The movie ends at Cannon Beach. The goonies and the Fratellis emerging from the ocean, with Haystack Rock behind them. I sat in the sand on a log as close as I could to the rock. It was so big and yet so small. So miraculous and yet so ordinary. So mysterious and yet so humble.

I pulled a copy of Unraveling from my bag and the replica treasure map I bought as a souvenir. Holding them both, carefully and gently like treasures, it dawned on me.

Cannon Beach & Haystack Rock.

Eight years ago, when I surrendered my credentials with help from The Goonies, I didn’t just offer a map to a bishop and leaders in a church adrift. I offered a map to myself. A map to wholeness and authenticity. A map out of the closet and into the light. A map to recognizing and valuing my own worth.

I made it.

That evening heading back to Portland for a red eye flight home, I thought about the journey and started visioning a new map. Drawing out new dreams. Marking out the next chapter. Outlining the next story. Planning the next book. Editing the next draft. Imagining my next goonies adventure.

What adventures have you been on? What unexpected treasures have you found? What treasures are you seeking? What story within you is longing to be told?

If you want to read the map I shared as part of surrendering my credentials, it’s on page 42 of Unraveling. Open or order your copy today.

With Water and Wonder,
Rebecca & 10 Camels

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