Common Courtesy

It’s sunny in Portland OR and already in the 60’s at 12:24 p.m. on Saturday.  People are out everywhere and I’m walking west, nearing the center of the Steel Bridge, one of the ten bridges spanning the Willamette River and operated by the Port of Portland.  The water level is very high – highest since the flood of 1996.  As I walk onto the Steel Bridge, I’m guessing the bridge operators are… Read More

“I’m not done yet.”

My friend Murry is in a protracted conversation with esophageal cancer.  He knows all too well that his condition didn’t come from nowhere. The president spoke yesterday to matters in the Middle East – to the changes signified with the public uprisings in Egypt and Tunisia.  He spoke to Israel and Palestine– to that protracted conversation.  We all know that none of that came from nowhere. Today I took a photo of… Read More

Everyday Desperate Measures

During the work week between 6 and 7 a.m., it’s a different kind of quiet on the streets of downtown Portland. All last week I walked downtown to catch the bus.  The weather was warming, the air softer to the touch.  I liked it. That time of morning, delivery people dot the grid of city streets.  They roll dollies with boxes of produce.  They use fork lifts to move reams of paper… Read More

What Accents Have to Do with World Peace

The bald eagles are nesting in northern Wisconsin.  To see them is a privilege.  This sense of privilege – really, of awe – is not new in humans.  And the birds deserve it.  Their power and dignity, their grace and comfort with majesty can only be met with appreciation of the highest order. Then there’s everyday eagle speak.  Not the famous war cry that echoes through canyons, but the way eagles chat… Read More

Glimpses of the Rural/Urban Thing in the U.S.

Most Februaries I spend bemoaning rain, rain, rain, while walking around my everyday life in Portland, OR.  In February 2009, I was on the EX:Change road trip – cruising down the west coast and taking a left so that by Valentine’s Day, on the interstate from Tucson to Albuquerque, I was pushing 80 mph behind an 18-wheeler named for that very day (really…see EX:C blog photo, 2-18-2009, Cattle Trail).  Now it’s February… Read More

Seeing Privilege

It’s going to take a while.  I don’t want to speak for blacks, but from my perspective being a black man with what I have observed in my lifetime, I will feel as though I’m going to be shortchanged because of the history behind us.  I will feel that until I see some definite improvement.  If  they tell you that you can be equal, but you never make any gains, you’re going… Read More

Tucson, 9/11 and a Publication Date (!)

It’s happening!  The EX:Change project’s interviews from early 2009 are going into a book.  The tentative title – You Say Change, We Say….   And Loud Mouth (http://www.loudmouthpress.org/) is the perfect publisher – a nonprofit in Brooklyn devoted to issues of social importance.  Here’s one thing they say about themselves.  “Our projects offer an innovative, creative and artistic perspective on important topics that concern the entire human family.”  Cool, huh?  Fortunately, the… Read More

Procrastination and a Nation’s Hostility Habit: When a Congresswoman has Been Shot in the Head

It is shortly after 1:00 in the afternoon in the Starbucks on 28th and E. Burnside in Portland, Oregon.  It’s Adam’s last day as a barista here.  He’s off for a full-time gig in a fusion restaurant downtown.  My friend Doug just walked by and came in for a chat.  He’s a bartender who, for the first time in two decades, didn’t have to work New Year’s Eve.  “Nothing more renewing than… Read More

Only a Person

Yesterday evening I walked into the little Whole Foods in my neighborhood.  It was actually more like late afternoon on a typically chilly, misty and too-soon-dark December 1 in Oregon.  But, I needed B vitamins and am always looking for a motive to get a bit of walking. I walked into the warmth of the store, headed toward the supplement area and turned a corner to see an older Tibetan man adorned… Read More

Because I Knew You Then, I Can Listen to You Now

I spent the last week with a friend I had not seen since we were both 15 – a friend I met when we were 6 and in elementary school in Sweetwater, TX. By the time we were 12, serendipity of some wild Texas variety had turned circumstances so that we both showed up in Mrs. Southerland’s English class in Peterson Junior High School, Kerrville, TX.  His family had moved to start Gibson’s, an early version of discount stores now dwarfed… Read More