Kvetch: Pearls and Porches

I like the Pearl district. Other than my daughter (who is five), none of my friends seem to share my opinion. I understand why people grumble: Manufactured "lifestyle", trendy restaurants, trendier people, self-satisfaction, faux-urban cosmopolitanism, insert your favorite derogation (is that a word?) here. I've seen that place you're talking about. But that's not the Pearl district I visit with Sage. We go to Tanner Springs (my favorite Portland park) to count the fish; Jamison park to walk shoeless in the knee-deep fountain/pool; Lunch at Bridgeport, ice cream at Cool Moon, then take the street car to Powell's where we read books we'll never buy, then get coffee and/or cocoa from the charming young baristas at Peet's. Other days its surprisingly good sushi at Whole Foods Market, great assemble-your-own-lettuce-wrap-appetizers at PF Changs, or fabulously cheesy hazelnut beer bread at Rogue Brewery. We go in, we enjoy what we like, and we head out. Everyone tends to be friendly (of course, I am friendly first, and that makes a difference), finding on-street parking isn't awful, and I always enjoy myself.

But that's not why I'm writing. I just want to make that clear that I'm not a Pearl basher.

Whenever we go to Tanner Springs, I look around at the lofts that surround the one-block greenspace and I marvel at the empty porches. Saturday afternoons, Tuesday evenings, Friday nights, it doesn't seem to matter: There are 60 porches in view, yet in two years of visiting, I have only seen three people ever enjoying their porch. True, porches aren't for everyone, and these folks surely work most days to pay for these exorbitantly priced purchased-apartments, but it seems to me that one of the joys of having a porch-equipped loft in the Pearl would be the pleasure of sitting on said porch and admiring the sights and sounds of the neighborhood you paid so dearly to live in. Last night a splendid sunset silhouetted the Fremont Bridge and reflected off the various glass towers, yet I could see only one person on their porch. It puzzles me---no one stepping out to smoke cigarettes to prevent the loft from smelling of stale smoke? No one explaining their day over margaritas? No one reading the paper in the waning light of the day? No one sneaking a joint? It astonishes me.

I'm not even a yard dweller, yet if I had a Pearl loft, I'd buy a laptop so I could be writing this on the porch and some dorky guy below could look up and be relieved that at least some people take advantage of their opportunity. (“There's one! I think he's typing...and sipping a margarita...and is he smoking something?”) I love the people we encounter at the park (last night, every person was warm and smiley, and best of all, seemed to enjoy being warm and smiley), but I wish we could take advantage of some of that unused open-air real estate at the 80 feet level. Just like a musical instrument is made to be played and not stored, a porch with a downtown view shouldn't be allowed to go to waste. If you own one of those porches, email me---I have a pitcher of margaritas with your name on it.

Insights from Outside

I came across a quotation yesterday by Alexis de Tocqueville, a name I didn't recognize but an observation I appreciated. I searched for more of Alexis' quotations and found them very interesting:

As one digs deeper into the national character of the Americans, one sees that they have sought the value of everything in this world only in the answer to this single question: how much money will it bring in?

I know of no country in which there is so little independence of mind and real freedom of discussion as in America.

The American Republic will endure until the day Congress discovers that it can bribe the public with the public's money.

The surface of American society is covered with a layer of democratic paint, but from time to time one can see the old aristocratic colours breaking through.

The greatness of America lies not in being more enlightened than any other nation, but rather in her ability to repair her faults.

Most amazing to me is that these observations seem so topical, yet were written circa 1840. Apparently, the concerns some of us have with the nation today have been a concern for quite some time.

Some people seem to think that any criticism of this nation equates to a lack of patriotism, even actual "hate" for America. This attitude puzzles me: When our friends behave badly and we ask them to change their ways, that doesn't mean we hate our friends, it means we care enough to expect better of them; when we reprimand our children for making bad decisions, that is not a display of loathing, it's a demonstration of our belief that they can do better. I don't disagree with the adage, "my country, right or wrong", but I also expect my country to try to get it right, not stumble blindly and expect its citizens to forgive every illogical and ill-conceived ambition. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and don't be surprised if our trust is diminished.

I'm sure some will dismiss any wisdom in these quotations as being an outsider's irrelevant commentary---and from a Frenchman, no less. But I maintain that we have to stop congratulating ourselves for being great, and start concentrating on being GOOD. Because, quoting Alexis de Tocqueville again:

America is great because she is good. If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great.