Standing on a sidewalk, offering Street Roots with a friendly “Hello,” one encounters a variety of responses from passersby. Of course, my favorites are you Roots aficionados. Loyal readers and long-time supporters — some go back to the Burnside Cadillac, Baloney Joe's and other icons of a previous generation of Portland's street people and culture — your eyes light up at just having “found” a vendor. Now you can express your support for this homegrown insurgency in its most basic, pure form. Thank you. Roots needs, and our society needs, more people like you.
Most people are pleasant enough, they usually at least nod, make eye contact, crack a little smile. It may seem silly, but it's important to me. Thank you.
Lately I've been spending time outside City Hall. Although it's not the most friendly or lucrative location — high zombie count — I have run into some interesting and well-known people. Like Commissioner Randy Leonard, who one day not long ago came bounding out of the building. He saw and then approached me with a preemptive and smiling “hello” of his own; solid eye contact. I could tell he was in a hurry, so I handed him a paper as he slipped me a buck. I thanked him, he nodded and then at a robust pace, he headed north on Southwest Fourth Ave.
Positive, high-energy level, pleasure doing business with you commissioner. Hope you enjoyed the Roots. Then, on Thursday, May 10, Commissioner Sam Adams came by my location. He looked tired, a 5-o'clock shadow and circles under his eyes. Nonetheless, his spirit and smile were bright and sincere, good eye contact. Like Leonard, he spoke first, “Sorry, I don't have any money on me right now.” “No problem,” I say back to the dashing young commissioner as I put a copy into his hand, “It's on me,” I tell him, and then added, “Thank you for all your good work,” as he starts off toward City Hall's grand entrance. He waves and replies over his shoulder, “Thank you,” then went on in, and no doubt back to work. Well, two down, three to go.
Later that same day, I buttoned-holed a local television news presenter person who requested I not reveal his true identity (which is good, because although I could point him out in a police lineup, I have no idea what his name is). Anyway, I asked him what he thought of the pending lawsuit against the FCC, based on the findings and allegations reported in Street Roots, May 1, 2007 article by Zeke Martin, “Broadcasters' starvation diet for hungry voters.”
He said he agreed that his and other local broadcasters are, “not providing enough objective, comprehensive election coverage at realistic times, while in turn making tons of money airing many more hours of paid political advertising, during prime time.” Let's hope the legal system also agrees, and forces the FCC to do its job.
Also that Tuesday, at City Hall, I unknowingly ran afoul of a “prohibition,” as the head of security, Mr. Feely, made a special effort to inform me. I should have known better, after all, this is the home of the infamous “sit/lie” ordinance. It's a trivial matter really, but perhaps a bad omen of things to come. In question is a very attractively weathered sandstone wall which encloses little green spaces on the north and south sides in front of the building, running adjacent to the sidewalk along SW Forth Ave.
The wall opens to a small courtyard and the building's marbled columnar portal, and because it only stands about three-foot high with a wide flat top, it's a comfortable, safe and out of the way place to sit. It's a splendid perch from which to appreciate this fine old building and greet people as they come by. And, of course, there are no other places to sit. Not a damn bench in sight. Oh, my aching sciatica.
“Hello” is a lot about attitude. Being on the streets with Roots over the past year, I have come to the sad conclusion that here in Portland we are a less friendly and caring society today than just 10 years ago. We seem much more fearful and judgmental of each other. I believe the simple act of saying “hello” to someone you don't know is a healthy antidote to that fear. In a world otherwise full of strangers, “hello” can unite us in a most basic human way by acknowledging each other's existence in this crazy, mixed-up world we share. It's not political, religious or business, it's just human. I hope you might try it. The next time you pass a stranger, please bid him or her a friendly “hello.” Just don't expect anything in return.
However, sometimes fate offers up a Jackson and a few slices of tasty hot pizza. When downtown closes for the night, I often float back to my home turf, the Sunnyside neighborhood in Southeast. For Roots vendors, the hottest spot in this part of town is Powell's Bookstore on Hawthorne Blvd., between 37th and 38th avenues.
I was at this location Thursday, May 10, late in the afternoon when I met CiCi on the other end of a friendly “hello.” She had just arrived from Oklahoma and with the help of some friends was moving into a nearby apartment. CiCi and her crew were tired and wanted to go somewhere and have a nice sit-down dinner. I recommended the Oasis Cafe at Southeast 37th Ave., a couple doors down. I was also tired, but I still needed to sell a few more papers to cover the cost of my room for the night. CiCi then asked me if I would keep an eye on the rented moving van parked just a few feet away, she offered me $20. About a half-hour passed and CiCi returned, with several fresh pieces of pizza. Thank you, CiCi, you're an angel.
Yes indeed, good things do come to those who wait, and sometimes to those who dare to say “hello” to the perfect stranger.
