Over the Bridge and Back Again

“It is the mark of illiberal regimes that they make free speech more difficult even outside their borders.” Yuval Noah Harari, 21 Lessons for the 21st Century

I have just returned from my annual trip to Oregon to visit my brother. He lives in a working-class neighborhood in Tillamook, one block from the Hampton lumber mill which churns out wood products twenty-four hours a day. We loaded two bikes on his Jeep Cherokee and set out for Washington under blue skies. We crossed the Astoria Bridge, always a thrill for me since I have few opportunities to see a river as wide as the Columbia, and headed for the small town of Ocean Shores. In years past we explored Westport, Grays Harbor, Port Townsend, Tokeland, and Aberdeen. Ocean Shores has a population of around six-thousand souls. Two of its larger hotels were shuttered temporarily, and when we inquired about vacancies at another we were told there were none because of a shortage of housekeeping staff. Help wanted signs were ubiquitous. Despite the labor shortage, we noticed quite a lot of new construction -- houses, condos, and commercial spaces. I wondered if the city mothers and fathers were following a Field of Dreams strategy -- build and they will come. We finally found lodging for the night at a Comfort Inn. The young woman at the front desk told the customer in front of us that due to a shortage of staff she worked seven days a week for most of the summer. 

After an uneventful evening we drove back to Astoria the following morning, crossing the bridge minutes before a maintenance crew set up, which slowed traffic in both directions for several hours. We rode along the bicycle path that parallels the Columbia, watched a couple of big container ships, and saw two Blackhawk helicopters fly under the bridge. We had dinner on Pier 39. The window of our first floor room at the Hampton Inn faced the river, and we could watch the container ships at anchor get turned all the way around by the current. The barking of sea lions went on most of the night.  

Back in Tillamook by midday the following day, we cleaned rain gutters and wiped the bikes down while listening to Mojo Nixon’s show on Sirius XM. I was interested to learn from some of my brother’s friends about Tillamook real estate, which, as in many other unlikely locales in our country, is experiencing price wars, with potential buyers offering thousands of dollars above the asking price. Where the money comes from I have no idea. I wonder if this phenomenon is another example of irrational exuberance that will come crashing to earth sooner or later. 

Whenever I travel I realize how little I know. I can finally distinguish a Douglas fir from a spruce, but there are many other species of tree I can’t name. I don’t know much about fishing, tides, currents, and very little about bow hunting. The older I become the less I seem to know, and much of what I think I know is tinged with doubt. Our world is drowning in information, yet knowledge seems to be in short supply, and wisdom is even more rare. One of my brother’s friends, Larry, immediately struck me as intelligent because he listened more than he spoke, and when he added something to the conversation it was thoughtful. I must learn to listen more. This blog is of course filled with my opinions, notions, biases, prejudices, gripes and inchoate thoughts. The modern world is bewildering, and it very often scares me. What is real, what matters, how can we help? 

I drove from Tillamook to Portland in a steady rain, through the state forest on Highway 6, a twisting road prone to rock slides in spots. I left my brother’s house early so I could take my time. My rental car hydroplaned once or twice. It was early in the morning, dark, and fortunately there was sparse traffic headed east; I kept to a steady 45mph. My night vision is suspect and at times it was hard to see where the road was heading. I alternated between high and low beams, and when a vehicle appeared in my rearview mirror I pulled over to let it pass. No sense pissing off the locals. 

Travel is a luxury, but it’s one of the best ways to learn. 

I Left My Money in San Francisco

 “Spend what you need but just throw even a few coins into a tin and forget that you have it. A woman should always have something put by.” Min Jin Lee, Pachinko

We spent three days in San Francisco to celebrate our children’s birthdays. Miranda turned twenty on September 3, and Gabriel ushered in his twenty-fifth year on the 4th. They were born five years apart. Our last visit to San Francisco was fifteen years ago and much has changed in that short span of time. There was the financial implosion of 2008 and 2009, the recovery and gentrification that changed many of SF’s neighborhoods, the election of Donald Trump and the madness of his administration, massive wildfires that confirmed some of our worst foreboding about the changing climate, and the pandemic. Gabriel lived in San Francisco for a couple of years, moved down to Los Angeles for a job at the LA Phil, then back to San Francisco when he got a job at the Opera. He lives in a quintessential Victorian-style house with three roommates. The front door opens on a steep flight of stairs, climbs to a landing, then another short flight of stairs to the living area. The windows in the high-ceilinged living room offer views of downtown. The room Gabriel occupies has hardwood floors, a fireplace and a lovely bay window. 

Miranda spent most of her time in Berkeley visiting two of her girlfriends from high school who attend UC Berkeley. She got her first tattoo and rode the BART for the first time. We all had dinner together at Gabriel’s on his birthday. The boy made pasta, bread, a lovely salad, and cookies for dessert. 

We stayed at the Marriott Marquis on 4th street, near Union Square. There’s a Trader Joe’s across the street from the hotel. The room was decent, although the mini-fridge leaked water. Marriott charges its guests $14.95 per day for Internet access, $80 a day to park a car. Aside from being annoying, it was another reminder of how corporations try to squeeze as much profit as they can from every customer. We parked our Honda across the street for $58 a day. The Dodgers were in town for a weekend series against the Giants and the hotel was full of baseball fans decked out in team gear. Face masks were required in the common areas of the hotel, and at every restaurant and the Academy of Science we had to show our vaccination cards and ID to get in. We didn’t find this unreasonable or see it as an encroachment on our freedom. It seemed a sensible precaution in a pandemic. We got around on foot, and by Uber and Metro. Union Square is gritty and grimy, populated with tourists and homeless folks, street corner preachers and panhandlers. The Disney Store is closing, Crate & Barrel is looking for seasonal help. 

The Academy of Science in Golden Gate Park was fantastic, worth every cent of the $40 entry fee. We went to the top of the observation tower at the de Young Museum to take in the panoramic view of the city. The sky was hazy that day, but the view was still spectacular. The park was crowded with joggers, cyclists, people walking dogs, picnicking on the grass, playing Frisbee. The weather was fine, sunny and warm. I like the ethnic diversity of San Francisco. I enjoy looking at the architecture and the fire escapes, the old facades juxtaposed with gleaming glass towers. 

 I tried to stay away from the news during the trip, but it was difficult with the shocking reproductive news coming out of Texas and the Supreme Court. The conservative political minority in the United States has been intent on killing a woman’s right to an abortion ever since it realized it was a potent wedge issue. The political (banks, insurance and real estate, large corporations, and the Pentagon) arm of the American right wing cares about low taxes, minimal regulation, weak unions, heavy defense spending, and limited social insurance; this arm doesn’t care one bit about the unborn. The issue is useful in that it gave the political right entry into the world of the Christian right. Both arms are after the same thing, power, but on their respective planes of interest, which frequently overlap. The Christian right believes its male members are sanctioned by the bible to control womens’ bodies. This marriage of convenience and mutual aid is why a man as immoral and religiously illiterate as Donald Trump was adored by evangelicals. 

Naturally, Texas, being Texas, had to go full Taliban against women, with a cruel and bizarre law. The Texas state legislature has a long history of crackpot members and idiotic laws. Read Molly Ivins for confirmation. Note, too, that the legislature rammed this abhorrent anti-abortion law through at the same time it was passing a vicisous voter suppression bill. Power and control, minority over majority, not accidental. I don’t know what to say about the Supreme Court other than to call it what it is: an unelected and unaccountable political body. The action taken by the Court in the Texas matter isn’t as surprising as the cowardly way the majority went about it. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi vowed to create a bill that will codify in federal law a woman’s right to an abortion, but this is a hollow response since such a bill has zero chance of getting through the Senate, unless the Democrats change the rules regarding the filibuster, an action they are too timid to undertake. Pelosi is probably thinking that the abortion issue might be very useful for Democrats in the 2022 midterms. Women voters (especially women of color) could very well hold the key to the Democrats holding the House and Senate. 

In the final days of the US occupation of Afghanistan many conservatives expressed concern about the fate of Afghan women, and cried their crocodile tears, and yet when it comes to the reproductive health of American women, they are only too happy to support Draconian measures that will hurt the poor most of all. The GOP is the party of Hypocrisy. If Republicans are so concerned about women, why is their standard-bearer a serial sexual harasser? Why is the ERA still languishing, and why won’t Republicans back renewal of the Violence Against Women Act? Spare the tears. 

I’m reading The Fall of the House of Dixie by Bruce Levine, a fine history of the Civil War.