I just got on the bus. It’s Sunday afternoon. As I enter, I step carefully around two people rummaging the floor; an older woman with “a serious disability, so I can’t stand up,” and a short balding man. Both are bent over and reaching to pick up the contents of a spilled purse. The large black handbag belongs to the young mom who sits at the front of the bus with an… Read More
It’s Labor Day. Over the course of our country’s history, one place many people have found work has been in the military. I’m not a military person. I know a few veterans and I like them but outside movies, newscasts and the anti-war protests I’ve been a part of over the years, I know almost nothing about military service. I hadn’t counted until now, but turns out six of the people who… Read More
There are weeks when I think, “I have no idea what to write in this week’s blog.” Really. Lots of them. Then, without fail, events turn. They may be close in like with bus rides, or widespread like weather, or painful like the death of a dear one. They can also seem to have nothing to do with one another, and then, out of the nowhere of random neuron firings, I see… Read More
“I heard from the Idol people. I’m goin’ to LA in October!” Mr. Prude was at the bus stop Tuesday morning. “I went right to the Western Union office and sent my mom a telegraph. Next thing I know my phone was ringing and she was saying, ‘I knew you could do it!’” So this is how the story of Mr. Prude was unfolding for me. Here was a man I took… Read More
Ever since my garage door crunched itself into an intractable accordion, trapping my car inside, I’ve been riding the bus. I like it. It takes more time, but it’s easy – and its richer. One of my companions at the bus stop most Tuesdays and Thursdays is Mr. Joey Prude. The first time we spoke was on a Thursday. That day, like every other day I’d seen Mr. Prude he sat under… Read More
I heard no fireworks. In the center of the rural Midwest, I was aware of no celebrations – raucous or otherwise – in bars, in living rooms, in church fellowship halls. I was an outsider. Just visiting. I may not have been sensitive to the signs. Midwesterners are also known to be a rather reserved bunch. But, this winter I’ve had occasion to observe both Green Bay Packers fans and energized mass… Read More
St. Patrick’s Day began with a cultural experience. I’m visiting rural Wisconsin. I like it. I like the people. I’m learning from them. The culture I encountered yesterday morning is not unique to Wisconsin, but it had its own uniqueness. At 7:30, nearing my favorite coffee shop, you know, the Sweet Spot I mentioned some weeks ago, I hear crowd noise from the very small downtown area (two and a half streets,… Read More
In January of 2009, Nick Minnis sat in a coffee shop watching the street scene on the corner of 28th and E. Burnside in Portland, OR. We got into a conversation about change. Nick said, “I’m not a politician. My world is small. I work, I provide, and I sleep…very little.” He laughed. I don’t know whether Nick is in a union. I do know he is a working man, a laborer…. Read More
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
Two years ago, today I was interviewing Kate and Georgiana, #s 002 and 003 on the EX:Change. They are both women in the middle of their careers. They are both artists and teachers. I was interviewing them about change, the word and the concept that had gained such notoriety in the 2008 presidential election. Kate said this: “It’s really my strength and my weakness, this penchant for change. I can get impatient… Read More
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