A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 12

Week 12 of this hiccup in world history. For the U.S., this would turn out to be a particularly momentous week in an already tumultuous year, given a national election with the prospect of an incompetent bully potentially ruling the roost for another four years, and a pandemic.

On Monday the 25th, a resident of Minneapolis named George Perry Floyd, Jr. had died under peculiar and graphic circumstances. Though there’s little notice of it here, subsequent events would of course loom large across the nation, in Portland, and in this journal. . . . 

WEDNESDAY, MAY 27

12:40 p.m. — On streetcar duty this morning, I rousted a loiterer from one of our platforms.

2:05 p.m. — Ran across this apparent rave meet-up at the corner of of SW 10th and Harvey Milk. No signs of responsible social distancing or masking whatsoever. Despicable.

10:19 p.m. — It’s been at least three days — possibly four — since the Oregon Health Authority has recorded a covid-19 death in this state.

Here’s hoping we maintain this rate. At least 20 other states had fatalities still in the double digits today.

10:22 p.m. — The U.S., on the other hand, officially surpassed 100,000 coronavirus deaths today:

THURSDAY, MAY 28

9:17 a.m. — When someone asserts “masks are no good,” he or she is — in effect — taking the opposite logical stance from defenders of firearms.

Many’s the time I’ve seen people declare “guns don’t kill people; people kill people.” In sum, they’re arguing that one shouldn’t blame the tool for its misuse.

And that’s the response I offer to folks (I suspect some of them are the same individuals I’ve argued with about gun control) with regard to masks.

Of course these little paper thingies with the not-terribly-tight fasteners are going to be (or at least appear to be) utterly ineffective if you don’t use them right . . . and IF you don’t apply all the other safety precautions (social distancing, regular hand washing, etc.) in concert with the mask . . . and IF you assume their only purpose is to keep germs out of your body.

These are the underlying assumptions I’ve noted in people’s arguments against wearing a mask in public places: they hew to the pinpoint details of what kind of micro-organisms CAN get through the mask, given the opportunity, and when I pin them down to specifics, their complaint often turns out to have originated in an encounter with someone who either wasn’t using the mask properly or simply exhibited bad manners and inconsiderate behavior.

If you hope to mount a successful rational argument, you have to address the opposite side’s strongest points, not just its weakest ones. Most of us lack the patience or acuity to do that; instead, we settle for the low-hanging intellectual fruit and leave the rest of the tree untouched.

12:03 p.m. — An informative graffito on one of our streetcar platforms, in case you were wondering.

3:14 p.m. — Heh.

Turns out the parent company of one of my free-lance clients also owns WebMD, which I did not know until this week. I received an email from the company today that reports on a survey relating to the so-called “Quarantine 15” (a slang term for the average amount of weight in pounds that one supposedly gains during self-isolation):

Among the 1,012 U.S. WebMD users questioned, about 47% of women said they gained weight “due to Covid restrictions.” Roughly 22% of the men surveyed said they gained weight. Among U.S. readers who calculated the pounds:

— 15% said they gained 1-3 pounds

— 34% said they gained 4-6 pounds

— 26% said they gained 7-9 pounds

— 21% said they gained 10-20 pounds

— 4% said they gained 21 pounds or more

WebMD users in the U.S. cited a number of reasons for the weight gain. About 72% reported a lack of exercise. About 70% said they’ve been stress eating. An overwhelming 59% said both a lack of exercise and stress eating were a problem, and 21% attributed it to “extra alcohol consumption.”

When I was in my 20s, I had a girlfriend with an eating disorder — she was bulimic — and she observed that I have an “anorexic personality.” That is, when I’m anxious or stressed, I eat LESS as a way of trying to reassert control.

And that’s what’s happened this year. It’s not that I try to consciously cut back on eating; rather my mind obsesses so much on all the other things I want to get done or feel I should address that I forget to eat regular meals (sometimes breakfast, sometimes lunch).

Thus, as with so many other popular trends, I’m racing against the grain. I’ve lost about 6 pounds since mid March.

6:12 p.m. — This morning I had my own personal, quiet encounter with the passive aggression of people who oppose government health and safety regulations, however temporary.

Yesterday and today, I went around the system to put up posters at every one of Portland Streetcar’s 70-odd platforms to announce rider policies in line with the governor’s reopening guidelines.

Wednesday, I postered all the stops on the west side of the Willamette River; this morning, I did all the platforms on the east side. Very little riding was involved; I walked the entire 9.6-mile alignment and then some — crossing from one line to the other wherever they separate for a block or two, and sometimes having to backtrack a little.

I must have posted a sign on the shelter at SE MLK and Morrison at about 10:15 this morning. The shelters between Taylor and Burnside have been among the most prey to vandalism and graffiti over the six years I’ve worked for streetcar; there isn’t even a map case for the system with a sponsor poster at several of those platforms because they were mangled and torn down by vandals over time.

Working my way north from the OMSI end to the Broadway Bridge, I emailed my managers a little after 11 a.m. to note that quite a few of the covid-19 posters issued by the county some weeks ago had been torn down from our shelters, and I added: “I’ll be curious to see how long the posters I just put up between SE Hawthorne and NE Multnomah stay in place.”
Well, barely an hour later, I was off the clock and riding an A Loop train south along MLK to go home when I happened to glance out at the Morrison shelter and saw the poster I had put up there was already missing.

I hopped off the train and found it in the trash (see photo).

Fortunately, I had extras on me and replaced it instantly, but I sent a note to my boss and advised him to print more of them because I suspect we’re going to need ’em.

Evidently some folks in Portland are all too ready to act on their anti-government animus . . . at least, when nobody’s looking.

FRIDAY, MAY 29

7:22 p.m. — From roughly 6 to 7:30 p.m., I joined a surprise Zoom gathering to honor my friend Ron Harman’s birthday. Ron, a retired employee of the Oregon Zoo, has been a longtime singer in the Portland Opera chorus and in musical productions; I met him in the 2011 Lakewood Theatre Company production of “Annie Get Your Gun” in which he played Buffalo Bill and I was Chief Sitting Bull.

His friend Erik Montague, in the upper left corner, organized a surprise online party for Ron, since he lives alone. You can see Ron down toward the lower right corner, just above the telephone icon.

I’ve worked in stage productions with at least three other individuals in this group shot, and have a nodding acquaintance with several others, although at least one was dialing in from the East Coast. Online gatherings are a refreshing break from covid isolation. . . . 

11:53 p.m. — As some of you are aware, I started the month of May by making targeted walks to Little Free Libraries in Southwest and Southeast Portland, and trading in books from our home for ones I wanted to bring back to read.

Along with a portrait of each library I visited, and a selfie with the edifice, I photographed each of the books I gave up to them. Here are a couple. I believe a friend of mine across town already glommed onto one of them, because her home turned out to be just across the street from the LFL where I deposited the book.

SATURDAY, MAY 30

This morning I did a lot of writing on Facebook: first about Zuckerberg’s peculiar form of libertarianism, then about the Boston Tea Party as model for civil disobedience. I uploaded a revised and expanded version of the latter as my last blog post, and perhaps I’ll import the latter to this venue later.

2:13 p.m. — Another visual metaphor for our times.

This section of tree is actually hanging in the air, suspended by the hurricane fence into and through which it grew. The upper body of the tree and all its branches were sawed away . . . but so was the bottom of the trunk below.

The entire remaining section looks like this.

It’s been here for months, but I shot these photos at 12:29 p.m. on Tuesday, May 19, along Macadam Avenue between SW Gibbs and Curry (or a few dozen steps south of the OHSU aerial tram line, and a stone’s throw east of Interstate 5).

SUNDAY, MAY 31

8:50 a.m. — So this was what I was doing on this day a while back: competing in the Oregon state track meet two-mile final at the University of Oregon’s Hayward Field.

My time would have made me state champion in most states across the nation, but I was barely a contender in District 5AAA, which included the powerhouse of South Eugene High under Harry Johnson; on that team was the late Bill McChesney, a future Olympics qualifier in my school district.

At this point, I’m a couple laps in, with a couple runners in front of me and most of the pack behind. I would finish fifth in the state two-mile with a 9:21-something, not quite as fast as my personal best of 9:19.5, which I had run the week before at the district meet, working hard to hold off a couple of North Eugene runners with McChesney far out in front of us.

I got to know Bill briefly when I visited him at his home 11 years later, in the summer of 1988, when he was transitioning into becoming a professional massage therapist. Tragically, he was killed in a motor vehicle collision just four years later, when we were 33.

MONDAY, JUNE 1

10:48 p.m. — I watched a news briefing this morning for the first time — nearly all of it — by Governor Cuomo.

His comments, both during his statement and the Q&A, were clear, cogent, informative, fair, and best of all, humane — everything that appears to be utterly beyond the President. Also unlike the president, Cuomo has a decent sense of humor.

Although he had strong words for the killers of George Floyd, tempered and nuanced remarks about the protests and looting, and stern reminders to the people of New York City and state as both locales prepare for Stage Two reopening between now and next Monday, there were a lot of other interesting details along the way.

One somewhat tangential one that leaped out at me occurred, I think, when the governor was talking about advantageous historic moments, when the people lead by saying “This is what we want, NOW!” and the politicians say “oops, we’d better do something.”

He mentioned several past examples (the legalization of LGBTQ marriages, gun control legislation in NY after Sandy Hook), but also tasks that have been left undone or loom on the horizon. One was affordable housing. I’m a former HUD secretary [federal, under President Clinton], he said, so no one knows better than I what the federal government used to do via Section 8 and other initiatives to try to make sufficient affordable housing available. Then the feds got out of that business and left it to the market, and guess what? — you have a housing crisis!

One particular facet of Governor Cuomo’s presentation that especially pleased me, since I’m both a voice actor and have done occasional public speaking, is that his extempore remarks featured almost no “uh”s. That is to say, he doesn’t unconsciously try to fill gaps between his thoughts, between his sentences, between phrases within a sentence, with “uhhhh” . . . which an awful lot of people do; even professional actors as well as politicians, many of whom are fine reading or reciting a script but are not able to deliver their own thoughts as cleanly.

This is not an intentional thing; as I say, people do this unconsciously. You have to train yourself — develop enough experience — to avoid it. Perhaps the lucky ones simply learned from their parents how to speak without those annoying interjections. The governor is very good at this, among other things.

[NOTE: This was the afternoon, precisely one

week after the death of George Floyd and the

commencement of the protests across the

nation, that the President made his infamous

stroll across Lafayette Park behind a phalanx

of police officers, pepper bombs, and tear gas

in order to pose with a Bible in front of historic

St. John’s Episcopal Church in Washington, D.C.]

9:10 p.m. — I was riding a MAX light-rail train east across the Steel Bridge about 7:45 p.m. when I looked out the window to the south and saw the entire Burnside Bridge covered with protesters marching west.

At about 8:22 p.m. I was aboard a #12 Trimet bus returning west on Sandy at NE 40th when I looked up and saw the Hollywood Theatre marquee read: “Justice for George, Ahmaud, Breonna and Too Many Others.”

This is a shot from live camera feed on KGW at 9:23 p.m. in Pioneer Courthouse Square, my “office” with Portland Walking Tours almost every week year-round for the past 8 years. . . . 

TUESDAY, JUNE 2

2:16 p.m. — Because I am all written out — from the Boston Tea Party analogy to the president’s dictatorial and moronic photo op with a Bible yesterday — I am posting this photo of one of the bricks I used to visit with my walking tours in Pioneer Courthouse Square. (There are actually three of them that carry this name, and I know exactly where all of them are.)

Carole ordered one to carry my name as a gift last December, but it’s not clear when it’s ever going to take its place there.

*       *       *       *       *

If you haven’t seen the rest of my thoughts, observations, political commentaries, and jokes during the preceding weeks of the 2020 Coronavirus Pandemic, you can go to them via the links below:

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 11”

(featuring the triumph of New Zealand, a cheap candy bourbon, the recurring illusion that “all sides come together” in a national crisis, my first three days of post-lockdown work on the job for Portland Streetcar, and my first Virtual Karaoke Party with Devo, Dire Straits, and Queen)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 10”

(more Russian bot attacks, the thrilling conclusion to our search for unemployment benefits and federal stimulus payment, my initial experiences with heavy use of a Kindle, a visit to River View Cemetery, more about masks and covid-19 stats, and a list of at least some of the things that terrify the President)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 9”

(what it really means to “get out” during a pandemic, previous plagues in history, my ongoing effort to obtain unemployment benefits, more photos of Little Free Libraries, streets without sidewalks, tactics courtesy of the Wall Street Journal for keeping your glasses from fogging and the long slow death of my hair dye job)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 8”

(which includes another visit to downtown on foot, an online reunion of most of the principal cast of “Grimm,” our address courtesy of the USPS, how the pandemic outed the real “snowflakes” and made “socialist Sweden” the unlikely hero of U.S. libertarians, and my first official visits to Little Free Libraries)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 7”

(online video chat with family, my brother’s remote musical video collaborations, a long walk from the northern border of the city, birthday wishes to my wife, a happy quarantine coincidence, and my discovery of Little Free Libraries)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 6”

(the yellow fever epidemic that almost killed Alexander Hamilton, post-lockdown pleasure reading, invasions by Russian bots, capitulation to the Kindle, more long walks about the city, the distinction between an “excuse” and a “reason,” and an outing by car to run errands and finish a video voiceover job)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 5”

(long walks through NE and SE Portland, tactics for maneuvering through the streets in mask and gloves, the current plague of faux certainties, and visits to the Rose City Book Pub and Reed College campus)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 4”

(the start of my exhausting efforts to obtain unemployment benefits, first long walks about SW and SE Portland, idiocy from the governor of Georgia, an online reading with the cast of my March play production of a new short play by the lead actor, and how this is all Obama’s fault)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 3”

(a visit on foot to a remarkably deserted downtown Portland, my analysis of the initial patterns of coronavirus testing and spread in Oregon and major metro counties, several dismissals of the worthless Incumbent)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 2”

(the remarkably dry and beautiful weather that has brightened our self-isolation, a library books pile-up, a visit to the Portland Farmers Market after lockdown, the Whole Foods “early elders shopping hour,” a hike up the hills to visit my best friend from grade school, and thoughts about Nevil Shute’s On the Beach)

“A Journal of the Plague Year . . . Week 1”

(the weird hand-washing behavior of men, the shutdown of Portland arts events, and the run on guns and toilet paper)