Direct from Trump’s “Disaster”

      Greetings from Portland, Oregon, my home since 1983.
      We were out of town at the Sisters Folk Festival, a sort of Woodstock for boomers, when Trump made his announcement about commandeering the Oregon National Guard to maintain law and order in Portland, which he has variously described as a “war zone,” “war ravaged” and “burning to the ground.” There were rumors (which turned out to be false) at the festival that tanks were rolling into Portland. Concerned and alarmed, we called our son, who also lives in Portland and has his fingers on all things political.
      “What’s going on in Portland?” we asked.
      With an exasperated sigh, he said, “Well, the brunch lines are really getting out of control.”
      Yeah, the same 12 people, or maybe it’s a different 12 people, who have been demonstrating outside the ICE facility all summer are still there annoying the neighbors who put up with it for the greater good. Well, maybe it’s grown some since Trump’s announcement, but it is mostly peaceful and confined to one city block.

      If you are anywhere else in the city, you wouldn’t even know it is happening. Even in 2020, which is depicted as some sort of Armageddon, the actual protesters were separated from the feds by the Wall of Moms, a characteristically creative Portland solution, who stood there silently in identifying t-shirts, arms linked, frustrating any federal personnel who might otherwise have wanted to initiate another Kent State. There was admittedly some looting and vandalism, but it was committed by other actors and occurred after the protesters retired for the night.
      We had some out-of-town visitors over the summer, and we took them to the Japanese Gardens, the public Rose Gardens or the zoo to see one of our city’s star attractions, our new baby elephant, depending on their ages. We ate at some of Portland’s ubiquitous food carts (it is very difficult to get a business permit in Portland, but apparently easy if that business is a food cart pod). We took walks along the river. There is nowhere in the city we didn’t feel safe. Folks from places like New York always comment on how clean the city is and how nice the people are.
      Yes, Portland has problems, including homelessness; what major city doesn’t? But the preoccupations of Portlanders day-to-day include things like how to get around when the streets are blocked off for the annual Portland Marathon. We are still adjusting to a new form of city government and ranked-choice voting, both adopted in 2024. Will the city buy a stake in the Portland Trailblazers? What are we going to do when they close the Broadway Bridge for construction? Which farmers’ market shall we shop at today?

      Pretty boring stuff.
     Portland still feels like an overgrown small town. There is a sense of community here and an outsized degree of volunteerism and public involvement. We are (I think justly) proud of being early adopters and champions of things like vote-by-mail (1998), the bottle bill, city-wide recycling and composting pick-up, Death with Dignity, the urban growth boundary which gives us ready access to farm products, protections for reproductive rights, and most recently, free preschool for all.

      Thanks to the far-sightedness of (Republican) governor Tom McCall, all of Oregon’s coastal property is public land. Portland or its immediate environs are world or North American headquarters for Nike, Adidas, Columbia Sportswear—Icebreaker opened its first American store here. Our arts scene is still a draw for young creatives. We have Powell’s Books, a great public library system that I think sets a national record for use, a terrific food scene that encompasses the aforementioned farmers’ markets and food carts, large and numerous city parks, including a wildlife corridor that runs to the Columbia River, (mostly) dedicated, hard-working, sometimes incompetent but non-corrupt public servants.

      I could go on.
      In short, Portland has grown and become more expensive, but it is still the same tolerant, vibrant, weird (Portlandia; naked bike ride) city that made us want to move here in 1983. We have never regretted that decision. If Trump prevails, and SCOTUS allows him to exorcise his animus for political purposes by using (blue) cities as “training grounds” for the military, relying on false characterizations of said cities as violent and citing a “potential rebellion” (wtf?) as a pretext, then God help us all.