By Marshall Hammond
Dear Portland,
By the time you read this article, I’ll be gone. I’m leaving you, the city I’ve called home for 24 years, to live abroad. You’ve treated me well. We’ve had some wonderful times and I’ll never forget them. But the world is calling to me.
Make no mistake, I’m going to miss you. You’re my favorite city. Yes, you have your problems. Rents are too high, wages are too low. Your vulnerable citizens—the young, the homeless, the sick, the elderly, ethnic minorities, gender minorities, those with disabilities, they all continue to face hardship, injustice and neglect. And despite your wholesome twee exterior, your dancing frogs and your naked cyclists, you’re not immune to discrimination, corruption and greed.
Yet you retain the core qualities I fell in love with when we first met in 2002. You’ve still got that DIY attitude. You’re a city of artists and artisans, of writers, musicians, comedians and playwrights. You have the best food, amazing coffee and delicious beers. In the summertime you’re a paradise. In the winter, not so much, but you still manage to maintain a certain level of charm through the dreariness.
You’re a place where people can be themselves. You’re a city of fugitives and refugees, as the writer Chuck Palahniuk once said. People still come to you looking for safety, fleeing bigotry, seeking a community where they’ll be welcome. You’re a city where any couple in love, regardless of gender or racial identity, can walk down the street proudly holding hands without fear of harassment. That’s something to be proud of.
You have a caring character, Portland. It’s one of my favorite things about you. You try earnestly to do your best. Yes, you often fail, but you are always driven to improve, to make life better for everyone. You want your vulnerable citizens taken care of, you want everyone to be included and have their needs met. You want to help your people when they’re down and struggling, not send them away or lock them up.
This desire, this caring nature that you have, is the glue that holds civilization together. It’s the antithesis to the dark forces that want us to turn on or away from each other. It’s spelled out in a new mural downtown, and echoed on the signs and symbols adorning your windows, your lawns and the stickers on your cars and bicycles. It’s embodied in kindhearted people taking small, everyday actions to help others.
In my time writing about you, I’ve learned that you are full of such kindhearted people. I’ve been fortunate to speak to some of them.
It gives me hope, Portland, to know that a person like Jan Macmanus, the Executive Director of We Shine, is among you. Macmanus and her organization create and maintain “microvillages,” a model of free housing that makes space for struggling people to be sheltered and supported within their communities, not shunted aside.
Then there’s Cheryl Bickle, the Principal of Community Transitional School, where homeless children are allowed to mingle with other kids and be supervised and cared for while learning skills that will help them through life.
And there’s people like Romeo Sosa of the Portland Immigrants Rights Coalition, who organizes support for immigrants and the families of immigrants who have been targeted, detained and deported by ICE.
There are so many more. And all of these people work with the help and support of countless others—volunteers, donors, city officials, churches, charities, businesses. None of them go it alone, they all represent whole communities banding together to do good.
When I’m feeling a little low I remember, Portland, that you are full of people like these—people doing their part to hold it together come what may. It’s who they are, it’s who you are. So, whenever you are feeling a lack of hope or inspiration, do as Mr. Rogers said, “look for the helpers.” Support them, join them, become them. Donate. Volunteer. Take action.
Portland, you have greatness inside of you. There’s never been a better time than now to bring that greatness out into the light. Find those things worth fighting for and fight for them. Big or small. You don’t have to save the world. Just try to help the person next to you, and that will be enough.
Adios Portland—city that I love. See you down the trail.
“7 Pillars” mural by Askew One SW 4th Ave. and SW Washington St. Photo by Marshall Hammond.
Perfect description from my perspective.
A well said beautiful farewell to a wonderful city worth fighting for.