The Ever So Fragile Sense of Safety in Everyday Ramblings

Our last sunset at the beach this trip. Sigh.

So after my encounter with the screaming indignant woman two weeks ago I have been thinking a lot about my neighborhood and the changes happening here really fast. The demographic is adapting, as there is less and less appropriate effective help available for those who are struggling with addiction and mental illness and basic otherness.

Last week our mailboxes were hit by an experienced thief and about half the locks were permanently disabled. Besides being angry and frustrated and inconvenienced it also scared me.

As more and more people order things online the delivery services in their rush to be the fastest and most competitive have just been leaving packages either outside next to our hallway door (there are five apartments that use that door) counting on their assumption that someone will bring them in. We do, but we had someone leave the door ajar a few weeks ago and a man, a stranger, came in with a box cutter and opened all the boxes in the hallway and took what he wanted.

He did leave someone’s cat food delivery.

People sleep in our garbage areas. They are covered and dry.

So we are getting new lighting, a new mailbox set-up that is supposed to be tamper proof and the owners are considering No Trespassing signs in the common areas.

One of my neighbors told me that last month she saw a van pull up in the parking area by the track and six rough looking men with packs and street cred got out and dispersed. This is what the outlying communities are doing when they release folks from jail or drug rehab. They drive them into Portland and let them off.

And because we are just south of downtown, we are, apparently a perfect drop off point.

All our mail is being held at a post office way the heck across town. I’ll be hiking over there this evening. I have accepted this as a fact as it may takes weeks before we get new mailboxes and I will see it as an opportunity to get steps in towards my fitness goals but I do, umm, have other things to do.

Thanks suffering rapacious thief!

Yesterday at lunchtime I went out with a camera with the idea I would shoot the iris plot in the local community garden that is maintained by city gardeners.

When I got there I found that just in the last few days they had turned it all and there are no more iris. There is nothing in that plot. That made me sad.

It is a challenge when one notices things changing, seemingly for the worse, not to jump on the wagon of despair. Especially when your wild little sweetheart of a one eyed cat throws up right next to your head in bed while you are sleeping, but I am determined to look for what is good here, and there is much good here.

We really do need to find a way to talk to each other so that as a community we can solve some of these oh so difficult problems though.

Most of the beach where we go is public and people can drive their cars on it. Saturday night there were people driving their cars round and round on the beach for hours. The whole idea of doing this is so foreign to me and I am trying to imagine how I can find common ground.

How do we stay safe in a world that is turning towards reactivity and violence and this capitalist ideal of a fortress and a tribe. The temptation to circle the wagons and get out the firepower is very strong.

Last updated May 04, 2016