By Midge Pierce

Feeling Scroogey Portopia? Take heart. Donation buckets and poetry posts are full. Little Libraries balance give and take. Phones recharged once campaign solicitations stopped. Leaves pile high for free street pick-ups along with fantastic tales of forest floor rake-ups.

E-scooters stopped packing emergency rooms. Local doctors stepped out of their lane to speak gun safety to Power. Naked Bikes rode a Vote Naked blue wave to spin again. Dinosaurs and gnomes still rule in-fill shrinking gardens.

Portopians spend almost as much on December decor as on Halloween installations. Plastic Santas await wishes like rolling back water bills to 1958. Trinkets grow from lightpoles.

Still not festive? Mash-up familiar tunes like the Twelve Days of Christmas/Kwanzaa Hanukkah or Bodhi Day by singing how glad you are you voted for, metro housing for the poor.

Or, try dreaming of a bright Christmas, with campaign coffers glistening and politicians listening, to entreaties that millions unspent, pay Portlanders’ rising rent.

An ode might inspire like Joy to a Sustainable World, so Next Gens might see, rows of Richmond bungalows still demolition-free. Sing  Jingle bells, with political tricks and tells that jangle Portopians apocalyptic fears, with post-truthiness of the last two years.

Anyway you cut it, thank Portopians’ edginess, purging straws and the politically incorrect; culling roosters from backyard coops and passing bonds against property owners’ self interest.


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