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Wednesday, August 19, 2015

A Living Magazine - Day 59 - Don't Ever Call Me Dude!

It was another peaceful morning in my rose garden cathedral. It is interesting how quickly I establish a routine when I'm spending several days and nights in one town. I could easily see myself living here in Portland. I know exactly what I'd do each day--pretty much what I am doing now!

However, it does get old; not the rough camping, I'm used to that. In 89 times of doing it, I have never been "discovered". I have had my negative experiences (the camp in West Chester, Pennsylvania, comes to mind). But for the most part, the sleeping situations have been a shining success. What begins to grate on me is when I'm voluntarily or involuntarily staying for a while in one place and feel the loop of doing the same things each day start to creep in. I vacillate between wanting to "settle down" (and being able to if I wanted), and feeling the need to go on and experience something different--a new town or city. I get concerned sometimes - when contemplating my future - that I will never again be happy in just one place. The only way I can see this not being a problem is if I were to be living off grid in my little self sustaining property. Until that happens, I can't see any possibility for living a normal, "settled" life.

I took off down the trail out of the park. Seeing the sign for the Holocaust Memorial, I took a detour through that area...


Pretty much summarizes the entire history of the attempt by the Nazis to eradicate an entire people.



One of the plaques that exemplify life in those days.


What I thought was trash on the walkway around the memorial was in fact bronzed examples of personal articles from the death-train stations and subsequent prison camps that tore people away from their lives and funneled them into the gas chambers and firing squad pits of "the final solution"...


A book.



A broken violin.



An empty suitcase.



A little girl's doll.



A menorah, with the tablets of "the Law", upon which is written: "Thou shalt not kill."

It was moving and poignant. Being partly German, and born only 23 years after the end of World War II, I had taken a keen interest in that era as a child. I knew the names of all the aircraft, ships and vehicles of the war. There were many World War II documentaries and movies on TV back in the 1970's. And, even we children were well-educated on the atrocities and inhuman treatment of the Jews by the Germans. It is probably what pushed me toward History in college, after losing my interest in Psychology.

I sat for a moment next to the bronze baby doll and paid my respects to the six million human beings who were killed. I guess maybe I'm a sucker for monuments and memorials. I like their architecture, and I truly appreciate their symbolic means--ideas cast in stone and bronze. I stood up and continued on. One neat thing that I discovered was a more direct route to Burnside Street...



The path's exit onto Burnside.



Homeless sleeping on the soft lawn at the edge of Washington Park.




Another flower I'd never seen before. Ideas?

I didn't really have an agenda for the day, aside from posting at Starbuck's in the morning. This was a bit unusual for me. I tend to stay structured, trying to stick to plans. I figured that I'd dream up some kind of plan by the time I left Starbuck's.

The same characters came and went from the coffee shop. There was one particular barista, a girl with a sing-songy voice and bubbly demeanor (named Sarah), who was fascinating to listen to. I'd admired her style from the first time I visited. She has all the greetings, small-talk, and trendy terms down. I took mental notes on her ability to respond so naturally, putting her customers at ease. Her timing was exquisite. she remembered names (though not mine) and the usual items those people ordered. A guy would walk in and she'd say, "Good morning, Brent! An iced latte with almond milk today?" Then, as she helped prepare it, without missing a beat, she'd ask, "Got the day off today?" He'd answer, then she'd say,  "Your hair looks different, but really good today! shorter, maybe more comfortable in this heat?" It was amazing, frankly. And, with each person she would mix and match her responses, always tailoring it to that individual's situation. I'd hire her in less than one second! When I have a chance, I will try to record her technique. The other employees, except for a big guy who is very friendly, are mediocre and more forced with their customer service.

It took five solid hours to write the day's post; longer than I'd thought. But, one and a half hours were taken up by downloading and installing Windows 10. It was a free part of the package my laptop/tablet came with. at first it took a second to get used to its "personality". the inclination for me is to find all the issues and problems with it. But, I really couldn't see that many. My touch screen became slightly less sensitive, and it took a little bit longer for online pages to come up. But, I got used to it quickly. I can't really tell you what the advantages are for me yet. I'm sure there are some. One nice thing was the elimination of the "swipe" function that needlessly used to make the "metro" screen appear whenever I swiped from the edge of the keyboard, across the touch pad. Nice to have that gone. And, there is a power button right on the desktop screen now. Glad they fixed that little issue from Windows 8.

Now I could start my daily walk around the city. Unbelievably, for this city anyway, photo-worthy moments were becoming less frequent. There are only so many architecture, park, people, animals and plants that can be extracted in photo-form from one place. I knew there were definitely more, but I'd have to get into other - as yet, for me - unexplored parts of the city. I tried several times to take randomly chosen streets, but kept ending up in places I'd already been to. Better planning would be necessary to expand my territory; something I would put into practice the next day.

As much as I talk about simplifying life - giving up the "thing fetish" that makes people shop for things they don't need, as just a leisure activity, giving up the excesses of overly-corporatized patronage, spending less, etc. - I could still recognize that this would be a lot more fun with an ample amount of money to spend. One could try a different cafe, restaurant, or second-hand shop every single day, and go for half a year without returning to the same places. I saw so many Indian, Thai, Chinese, Sushi and other kinds of food available. And, being a bit of a closet foodie myself, I could imagine getting to know these places.

I'm not immune to the desire for simply enjoying myself. Because of the austerity required of my situation, it just isn't in the cards--for now. One of my many fantasies though, was to take on an Anthony Bourdain like job; eat, drink, meet and profile prominent people and places, as I travel. I already do the bottom-shelf version of these things. But, who wouldn't want an unlimited expense account to really dive in? Maybe when I'm rich, famous and retired... (That was an attempt at humor.)

As I have mentioned several times, it is in the nooks and crannies that the interesting - more local -things can be found. I stumbled across this little community garden, under an overpass... 


Artemisia vulgaris. An largely unknown plant with a forgotten history. Probably there by accident. 









These vegetable beds - though tiny and struggling - were open to the public, yet completely left unmolested in this rougher part of town. Respect for green efforts. It abounds in this town.

After that, I came to one of the dozens of small parks in the city. I couldn't really rest there as the homeless had taken up every bench and grassy area. Can't remember the name of this park. Neat - and strange - sculture...


Somehow, I'd ended up along the waterfront park again; third day in a row. This park was certainly huge enough to accommodate as many homeless and other folks as you could throw at it. I rested in my meditation spot from the day before.

The city had just dragged the soil and spread grass seed. But, because of the utter lack of rain, the "soil" was talcum-dusty and the grass seed sat dormant. There was no irrigation in this park. It was obvious that seeding the are was a half-hearted attempt. Consequently, when I went to sit on the ground, I had to put the tarp down first...


My view.


I was in the shade, and despite the hot and humid air, I was able to stop sweating by simply sitting still. Looking to my right, as I faced the river, I saw a small group of people coming toward me, hauling coolers. I thought it strange that they were headed right toward me. When they arrived--with the Salvation Army logos flying, I began to get what was happening. The gentleman in front grabbed two waters and offered them to me with a smile. I readily accepted, feeling a tinge of guilt (unnecessarily, it turns out) for taking water, when so many other people would need it more than I...



Discretely, I took some shots of people as they did their things...


Unicycle.



A guy dressed in a skirt, who went around flirting with some of the homeless guys.

Same sex relationships were much more apparent here in Portland, than in all of my time in California. For documentary-sake alone, I would have loved to take photos of the dozens of couples who were comfortable showing affection. Heterosexual couples too, were enjoying themselves and being romantic.

It seems, and this is a generalization and a very subjective observation, that Portlanders love to show a real and deep affection for their romantic partners. Up in the rose garden, couples go and simply smooth, old school-like under the trellises, vine-covered arches and private benches. Here, down by the riverfront (for example) a pair of young women rode their bikes into the center of the colonnade of trees, got off their bikes, removed their helmets and walked their bikes to the wall near the water's edge. There, they gently held each other and exchanged kisses. 

In my backwards New England instinct, I thought that the family walking toward them would shield their children's eyes from such "abhorrent" and "fringy" behavior. Instead, completely unconcerned, the mother led the kids to the bench right behind this loving couple and sat the family down. Was I so old fashioned that this made an impression on me? Perhaps. But, I'll tell the people who are still getting used to the idea of personal and sexual freedom - liberation from the constipated, Victorian, nonsense-abilities of a rude and intolerant past - that THIS was the future of our country and our world. Acceptance. Normalization of the tide that is now just beginning to break over this land. And... I LOVE TO SEE IT.


A group of homeless people hanging out together.

The prospect of getting up to explore more of the city was very unappealing at this point. The sun was blasting out its rays, and I knew I'd be a wringing wet pile of dirty laundry by the time I head to head back. So, I decided to head back slowly (as to not build up a sweat). I wanted to get to the McDonald's on Burnside to transfer files and await sundown...


Nicely formed Union Bank moldings.




I love that the dog is reading a book.

I arrived at McDonald's, not much worse for wear. Now, this restaurant (here on Burnside) is the quintessential example of a homeless hangout. The company keeps lowering its prices and creating appealing deals. This brings the food - such as it is - down to the level where even people with $3.00 a day to spend, can get a hot meal. I understand the nutritional objections of the middle class and well-educated mind toward fast food, and especially toward McDonald's. However, once you LIVE at this level for a while, you can appreciate just how much value you get for your money by eating there.

Unfortunately, along with the homeless people who just want to eat, come the irritatingly loud, immature, uneducated, trouble-makers too. These are primarily twenty-something kids who still function under that cocky attitude that want what they want, and they are going to be in your face both before and after they get it. I am developing a special disgust for their behavior. One of the kids there was the same guy who had been hanging outside the Dollar Tree the day before, when I bought my mackerel and tomato juice, and asked me for a dollar with, "Steal your dollar?" Apparently, this was supposed to be a funny and endearing way to beg, but all it did was piss me off. 

He must have been 19 years old and was completely able-bodied. He had his backpack, piercings, tattoos and piles of junk, just like some of the older guys, but an attitude of "Here I am, finally adult! and, now I'm going to do nothing." Giving him the benefit of the doubt (perhaps, undeservedly), I would say he was probably a good person, but with a seriously misplaced sense of responsibility. I got the impression that he was from some upper middle class family, but took off as soon as he possibly could. With no ambition, no education, and no work experience, he certainly was screwing himself right off the bat.

I looked at him as he waited for me to haul out my thin wallet and offer him a dollar, and I said, "Not a chance. Why don't you just DO something? You don't have to get a job or do what other people expect you to do, but for godsake, just do SOMETHING." 

He smiled, and just said, "Why, when I don't have to?"

I just shook my head, threw a dime and three pennies in his cup, and walked off. Not giving anything would have been expected. Giving him a dollar would have reinforced his stupid life plan. But to give a measly amount made a certain kind of point. I won't explain it. I think you might be able to figure out what I mean.

Back to the night's McDonald's visit...

While this group of unthinking and boisterous kids put all their shit on tables, spreading out over half the restaurant, eating things they'd brought in rather than buying the food there (in all fairness, some bought the refillable large drinks for a dollar), another guy showed up, unconnected to their clique. He was overly energetic - maybe on speed? - and walked straight up to my table, sitting across from me as I worked, saying "Hey! I'm just gonna sit here. I'm waiting for something. I won't talk to you or anything." There were plenty of other places to sit at. I shot him a look of disapproval, but said nothing at first. He sat up against the wall, stretching his legs out on the bench, and pulled the lid off a can of pears which he loudly slobbered down. My temper was beginning to heat up.

I would have just gotten up and left, but I had the pictures from the post you're reading right now in the midst of transferring to Blogger, and I didn't want to interrupt the process. After about a minute though, I was really getting angry. I looked up at him and said, "Dude, please find another place to sit." 

He was obviously sitting there with a paying customer (me) so that the manager wouldn't ask him to leave for not purchasing anything. He stopped shoving pear chunks into his mouth and stared at me. Then, in a huff, he replied with, "OK, I'll sit somewhere else, but don't EVER call me 'dude'," in as threatening a way as he could muster. This was too much for me.

I looked up and decided to channel my "big voice", and said VERY  loudly, "Really? You come in here, don't buy anything, invade my personal space while I'm working and then THREATEN me, motherfucker!!??" The place went silent. The manager, who had been trying to get the other kids to leave, began walking over. The guy with the pears, furrowed his brow in confusion. I guess I looked like a push-over. Learning that I wasn't threw him way off his game. By the time the manager was at the table, the asshole had gotten up and headed to the restroom. 

This restaurant was already much more tolerant, with no locks on the bathroom doors, no signs stating, "For paying customers only" nor "No backpacks permitted in the restrooms", letting people use their own judgement. Yet, the manager was in no mood for the problems that were developing that evening. He saw my laptop and rightly assumed that I was not part of this group of jerks. He simply nodded at me, and then went to the restroom doors and waited for the pear eater to come out. I was completely DONE with my stay there. I didn't give a shit if the files would have to be transferred the next day. The laptop was closed, stuffed in the pack, which I zipped up and swung up onto my back. I left before watching the manager get his chance to kick the asshole out.

On the verge of letting this episode ruin my day, I stopped by the Chevron station's Food Mart to buy a lemonade for the night. Thankfully, the counter person was very, very nice. She apologized for not greeting me when I first came in, which surprised me, since I wouldn't have expected such courteousness at a Food Mart. I was still a bit hungry and mentioned that it would be good to have some munchies, but there was nothing under $2.00. She said, "I know what you want! Something salty! Do you like flavored popcorn?" I answered in the affirmative, and she came out from behind the counter, directing me to a small hidden shelf, with a bunch of different flavored popcorn bags for $1.59 each. I saw a Sriracha flavor. Couldn't resist trying that. We joked a round a little bit as I paid. and, I left feeling much better than I had when I got there.

That saved me from the typical (for me) downward spiral of obsessing on the asshole at McDonald's. It really is incredible how the negative or positive things that strangers do and say can steer the direction of my mood. I can be lectured ad infinitum with "you shouldn't let things bother you", or "just ignore mean people", or "their attitude is not about you it's about them" etc. But I feel what I feel. And, I respond the way I respond. Perhaps that's why I never give that advise to other people. It doesn't do anything at all, except to make the advice-give feel good about giving advice.

I used my new and more direct route back to the rose garden. There was a couple on a blanket very near my sleep spot. So I went around through the "back door" path, and emerged at my spot, unseen.

As is my habit, I sat and mentally digested the day's events, before setting up the tarp and sleeping bag; drinking my lemonade and eating my sriracha popcorn. I tried to put a score of one to ten on the day, and ended up gravitating toward five. Mediocre, mundane, average, fair to midland... The sky darkened more, the couple on the blanket left for home, and I prepared for sleep, and then fell asleep quickly.

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