A nice change of pace

Run. Swim. Run. Swim. Lift weights. Run. Swim. Run. Swim.

There's a pattern to my exercise habits. Generally, I like it. Today, though, I was inspired to break the routine with a bicycle ride through various Northeast and Southeast Portland neighborhoods. During and afterward, I had to ask myself why don't I do this more often?

At 6:30 a.m., it would be cliché to say the city is just waking up. No, there are people up and about; it's just that you see things at that hour that you probably wouldn't 60 minutes later. A few examples:

-- Cruising south along 28th Avenue, just north of Broadway, I came upon a shirtless man of about 65 to 70 fetching something from his car. I suppose if you're going to expose your pasty torso to the neighbors, you might as well do it when few of them are looking.

-- As I crossed Sandy Boulevard at 28th, I looked in the open door of Marina's Kafe & Deli and saw the proprietor behind the counter, getting ready for the day. She's an Eastern European immigrant who never seems to have more than two people in her coffeehouse at one time, leaving me to wonder how she makes it. Maybe I'll drive down there this morning and give her a little business.

-- Heading further south to Stark Street, I came upon a set of unlocked gates leading to Central Catholic High School's athletic field. A dozen footballs lay on the rich green turf and a solitary kid awaited the arrival of other players. A sign at the gate declared: "No sunflower seeds." Why anyone would prohibit that particular item is beyond me.

-- Turning north onto 24th Avenue, I noticed a metal sculpture on someone's lawn; an elderly dude in a bamboo hat with a fistful of letters walking down the middle of the street (not on the sidewalk, mind you), presumably to a mailbox; and a jogger (curiously, every one of the five I spotted on the ride was a woman).

-- A quick detour to 22nd and Oregon brought me to Urban Grind coffeehouse, where a worker was setting out fresh water in a dog dish and awaiting her first human customers. I had planned to attend an event there Wednesday (a discussion with three local filmmakers) but decided against it in the face of 100-degree temps. The woman said they had a decent turnout but they all sweated through it without air conditioning.

-- Riding parallel to the Banfield Freeway, I came upon a guy skillfully backing a tractor-trailer into a garage at the Pepsi distribution plant. Those drivers are amazing when you think about it, maneuvering multi-ton vehicles in and out and through the city and beyond, delivering their sugary products day after day.

All in all, I was on the streets for 40 minutes, but it seemed like only half that long. That's a good sign of a relaxing activity that I need to do more of. Gives my knees and feet a break from the pounding they take on my urban runs and, more important, gives me a great window into sights and sounds I wouldn't experience otherwise.

Empty nesters no more

Given the state of the economy and how difficult it's become for a person to land a job in this town, I figured it was a matter of time before we faced the inevitable. Sure enough, Nathan moved back in with us today.

Clearly, he and we would prefer that he live independently of us. But that requires a steady income sufficient to pay rent, buy groceries and cover the myriad expenses that pop up from week to week. It just isn't happening, despite his best efforts to respond to advertised openings and keep an ear to the ground for non-publicized opportunities.

I'm encouraged that he's at least gotten to the interview stage with a few potential employers, but I also recognize there are large numbers of job-seekers out there and he's at a disadvantage in terms of experience, having just graduated from PSU less than two months ago.

Nathan has come over for dinner a few times since graduation day and it's always good to see him and spend time with him. We know we're lucky that two of our three adult children live in the same city as us and that we genuinely enjoy each other's company.

If tonight's dinner is any indication, I think we'll be fine. We had a casual dinner outside and Nathan was in a good mood, despite having to move his belongings into his brother's bedroom and his sister's basement on a brutally hot day. Afterward, he headed out to the club where he works part-time as a doorman to listen to some music. If there's a challenge for us all, it will lie in how well we deal with our different hours -- Lori being an early bird, Nathan being a night owl and me falling somewhere in between.

I say, "Welcome home to the nest" while I also cross my fingers that steady work will come his way. Job leads, anyone? Bring 'em on...

Worst Companies in the World, 2009

Corporations must face trial for crimes against Indigenous Peoples; Bush and Cheney must go on trial for torture

By Brenda Norrell
Censored News
http://www.bsnorrell.blogspot.com

Corporations exploiting the water, land and resources of Indigenous Peoples, using displacement, rape, torture and assassination, must be charged in an international court. The corporations and the individuals must be charged for crimes against humanity.
While Canada leads the world in the number of gold and uranium mining corporations carrying out criminal acts, the United States leads the world in corporations of torture and war manufacturing.
The US and Israel lead the world in the production of Apartheid spy and border technology aimed at control and profiteering. The US and Israel also lead the world in misinformation technology, including misinformation-based television and print media.
This is only the beginning of the list of the Worst Corporations in the World 2009, now being updated:

BARRICK GOLD (Canada) is coring out sacred mountains, including the Western Shoshone's sacred Mount Tenabo. In New Guinea, Barrick has carried out rapes and murders as it seizes Indigenous lands. In Australia, protests by the Save Lake Cowal campaign are ongoing at the Barrick Gold open pit mine at Lake Cowal, New South Wales, Australia. Lake Cowal is home to many migratory water birds and sacred sites of the Wiradjuri people.
Barrick leads the list of the worst companies in the world, for its mining in Papua New Guinea, the United States, Canada, Dominican Republic, Australia, Peru, Chile, Russia, South Africa, Pakistan, Argentina and Tanzania.
Read about Barrick's global crimes against Indigenous Peoples:
http://protestbarrick.net/
DENISON MINES/International Uranium Corporation (Canada) also leads in crimes against Indigenous Peoples for its uranium mines. Denison is now threatening to reopen a uranium mine in the Grand Canyon, which could destroy sacred land of Havasupai, endanger tourists and contaminate Southwest water supplies. Denison is already poisoning the land and water of Utes and Navajos in Utah and Natives in Saskatchewan, Canada. Read more:
http://bsnorrell.blogspot.com/2009/07/boycott-denison-mines.html
DESERT ROCK/NAVAJO NATION is planning the third coal fired power plant on Navajoland in the Four Corners area, already saturated with radioactive tailings from uranium mines, two other power plants and hundreds of oil and gas wells. These are already desecrating the Navajos most sacred place of origin in this region, Dinetah. The financing to the local Dine' Power comes from Sithe Global, primarily owned by the Blackstone Group, whose cofounder Stephen Schwarzman is a member of Skull and Bones. Skull and Bones is the secret society at Yale, whose power mongers include the Bush family, who robbed the grave of Geronimo, then attempted to silence the San Carlos Apaches about this.

The electricity from Navajo Nation coal and power plants goes primarily to non-Navajos in the Southwest while many Navajos still live without electricity and with the respiratory diseases and cancers from pollution and toxins. The revenues from polluting industries are the primary source of salaries and lavish expense spending for elected Navajo Nation officials.
GOLDCORP (Canada) In Guatemala, Indigenous are fighting Goldcorp which brings in 200 tons of cyanide a year for gold extraction. While poisoning the water and land, Goldcorp continues to displace and make homeless Indigenous Peoples. In 2005, one Mayan protester was killed at the Canadian owned Goldcorp mine, operating under Montana Exploradora at the Marlin mine.
DOW CHEMICAL/UNION CARBIDE killed 18,000 people in the Bhopal disaster in India. The Yes Men, activists and filmmakers, are making sure no one forgets. Who will care for those left ill and disabled?
Dow has a long history of poisoning and killing people, from the cancer alley of the Louisiana coast to Vietnam.
Wikipedia says, "During the Vietnam War, Dow became the sole supplier of napalm to the United States military who used napalm in their efforts during the war.
"Agent Orange, a chemical defoliant containing dioxin, was also manufactured by Dow in New Plymouth, New Zealand and in America for use by the U.S. military during the Vietnam War. In 2005, a lawsuit was filed by Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange against Dow and Monsanto Company, which also supplied Agent Orange to the military. The lawsuit was dismissed.[14]
Read more about how Dow Chemical and Union Carbide have poisoned the world and killed people:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dow_Chemical_Company
MONSANTO is killing people slowly with mutant seeds.
VEDANTA RESOURCES (England) preys on the people of India: "According to the tribesmen and others supporting them, the mining of the Niyamgiri hills will lead to massive deforestation, affect water resources, destroy the local ecosystem and endanger wild animals commonly found in the area like tigers, leopards and elephants." http://sify.com/news/fullstory.php?a=jh1w5qadfca&title=Orissa_s_anti_mining_protests_reach_Delhi
Once again, in the Southern Amazon, Canada's mining death squads strike. The biggest projects belong to Vancouver-based Corriente Resources and Toronto's Kinross Gold.
CAMECO, another Canadian company, is planning to mine uranium in Lakota territory and Lakotas are now battling this corporation. The US secretly transported 500 tons of yellowcake from Iraq to Montreal for the private company Cameco in Canada in 2008.
Profiteering from Apartheid at borders, from Palestine to Arizona and around the world are Boeing, the Israeli Defense contractor Elbit Systems and Wackenhut Transportation (owned by G4S in England/Denmark.)
Profiteering from the imprisonment of migrants and people of color in the US are GEO (formerly Wackenhut) and Corrections Corporation of America (CCA.)
The war profit manufacturers that keep youths dying in foreign lands, and politicians lying about the reasons for those wars, include General Dynamics, Raytheon, Lockhead Martin, DynCorp, Blackwater and a long list of weapons suppliers, drone manufacturers, killers for hire and "intelligence" corporations.

Chiquita International Brands admitted in court that the company hired assassins to kill farmers and activists in Colombia.
For overcharging at the gas pumps, all qualify as the worst corporations in the world: Exxon Mobile, Chevron, Shell and all the others.

Just as corporations must be held responsible before an international court, Bush and Cheney must be placed on trial for torture, kidnapping and murder.

The Obama administration is backing an anti-terrorism policy of Bush, urging a federal appeals court to throw out a lawsuit that accuses Boeing's Jeppesen Dataplan of helping the CIA fly suspects overseas to be tortured.

In a poll by Censored News, readers voted the United States "the worst corporation in the world."
In domestic and international terrorism, the torture trainers at the US School of Americas (now the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation), Army intelligence officers at Fort Huachuca, Ariz., and the US Border Patrol top the list. Border Patrol agents continue their murders, rapes, assaults and drug smuggling.
The US courts, filling prisons with people of color, and violating federal laws designed to protect Native Americans and the environment, follows. Then there is FEMA, which watched people die after Hurricane Katrina, and continues to distribute toxic trailer houses to desperate people across America. At its core, is toxic racism.
Waving its flag as a peace loving country ensuring human rights, the United States leads the world in deceptive war profiteering, spilling the blood of its youths to water the economy.
Obama has not ended the war, he has only changed the location from Iraq to Afghanistan, ensuring corporate war profiteering, the deaths of American youths and the murder of innocent mothers, children and elderly in their homelands.
Finally, unless Obama makes public the evidence of torture and ensures Bush and Cheney are held responsible for torture in violation of the Geneva Conventions, Obama will have failed as president.
Obama's silence is complicity in this crime.

Sweatfest 2009

I've never been a big fan of the heat, even growing up in year-round sunshine in California. This week reminds me why.

After two days of blistering, record-high temps of 103 and 106, we're supposed to hit 107 today, which would tie the record for this date in Portland.

What I hate is that there is no escaping the discomfort.

I went for an early run yesterday, figuring it would be 20-30 degrees cooler than mid-morning. Still, it took a good hour for me to cool down, even after a shower. When I left for work, it was already 86 degrees inside the house.

At work, a fellow editor threatened to stay overnight in his cubicle, knowing it would be far more comfortable than the humid conditions at home. During the afternoon, a staff columnist e-mailed to say it was 92 in her home office and 103 upstairs. She was thinking of coming in to work after dinner, just to get some air-conditioned respite.

This morning, I went for a swim. Thankfully, the water was only 84 degrees; the gym that I belong to normally keeps it even warmer, for the sake of the older swimmers. Still, here I am in the basement -- supposedly the coolest room in the house -- and still perspiring an hour after walking in the door.

I look at our pets and see that they, too, are trying to make the best of it. Otto, the Jack Russell terrier, is laying down on his side beneath the dining room table, only a couple feet away from Rudy, our senior cat, who's flattened himself with paws stretched out as if he were diving into a pool. And Roxie, the rabbit, is chilling out on the linoleum flooring of her cage, having already devoured the cool carrots and grapes I fed her.

If I had any sense, I'd take a furlough day and head to the nearest river. Instead, I'll dress as lightly as common sense allows and hope the city bus I ride to work is one of the rare ones with A/C.

Bring on the rain!

Boycott Denison Mines

By Brenda Norrell
Censored News
http://www.bsnorrell.blogspot.com/

Photo: Supai Gathering to halt uranium mining/Photo Brenda Norrell

(Double click on photo to enlarge.)

RED BUTTE, HAVASUPAI TERRITORY -- Toronto-based Denison Mines (International Uranium Corporation) is threatening to reopen Canyon mine and drill for uranium at the south rim of the Grand Canyon. It only takes a quick look at the company to see that it has targeted Indigenous Peoples around the world with mining, poison and death.
Denison uranium mines and explorations are in White Mesa, Utah, McClean Lake in Saskatchewan, Australia, Mongolia and the Mutanga Project in Zambia.
Leaving a trail of disease and death around the world from mining, the stockholders of Denison need to know that their wealth streams from the poisoned water and lands of Indigenous Peoples. In White Mesa Ute country, near the Navajo Nation, the uranium mine was built on sacred kiva grounds and left a toxic dump of radioactivity.
During the Havasupai Gathering to halt uranium mining in the Grand Canyon last weekend, Supai Waters, carrier of the water songs, spoke of the unseen and how the Supai Guardians of the Canyon are maintaining the balance, not just here, but for the Earth.
If sacred Red Butte is violated, it will not just be the Supai and the crowds of tourists who are poisoned. It will not just be the Colorado River in Arizona and the drinking water of southern Nevada that is poisoned, the Earth will be in a state of dis-ease, imbalance.
Matthew Putesoy, vice chairman of the Havasupai Nation, said Red Butte is a traditional site sacred to the Havasuw 'Baaja.' Located in the Kaibab National Forest, Red Butte is known as Wii'i Gdwiisa, meaning "clenched-fist mountain." Havasupai leader Rex Tilousi says, "Red Butte is the lungs of our Grandmother Canyon."

Denison has staked 110 claims within the 1 million-acre area around the Grand Canyon and plans to produce nearly 110,000 tons per year of uranium ore at its Arizona 1 site over 10 years. During hearings, a water utility manager said virtually all of Southern Nevada would be left without water supplies if a mining disaster should occur. Recent legislation to protect the Grand Canyon does not apply to existing claims.
According to Denison Mines, "The company was formed through the combination of the business and operations of Denison Mines Inc. and International Uranium Corporation on December 1, 2006. Denison’s assets include an interest in two of the four licensed and operating conventional uranium mills in North America, with its 100% ownership of the White Mesa mill in Utah and its 22.5% ownership of the McClean Lake mill in Saskatchewan."

Another Canadian corporation, Cameco, is targeting Lakota lands for uranium mining. One year ago, in July, 2008, the US secretly transported 500 tons of yellowcake from Tuwaitha, Iraq, to Montreal, for the private company Cameco in Canada, according to CNN. Cameco said it was for nuclear power generation. But no doubt, there is more to this story of a secret shipment of yellowcake:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/07/07/iraq.uranium/index.html
Also, read how uranium mining has poisoned Lakotas and the region of the Black Hills:
http://www.culturechange.org/cms/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=336&Itemid=1

With the Supai in the language of love

By Brenda Norrell
Censored News
http://www.bsnorrell.blogspot.com/

RED BUTTE, HAVASUPAI TERRITORY -- Sometimes it is hard to put into words the beauty, grace and love. That is the case of being with the Supai elders from the canyon as we gathered at sacred Red Butte. The gathering was to oppose uranium mining in the Grand Canyon, but it was so much more. The people spoke with the language of love and carried out their ceremonies with the assurance of things that are to come that are now unseen.
In my 27 years as a journalist, I've covered about every kind of event, but never one like this. A heartfelt thank you to the Supai elders for sharing their lives with all of us. We broadcast live Thursday through Sunday on www.earthcycles.net and most of the time on the FM radio as well at the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Govinda brought the solar powered bus/radio station in from northern California.
Thank you to all of those who came, Louise Benally from Big Mountain, Anna Rondon, Navajo, Petuche Gilbert and Manny Pino from Acoma/Laguna Pueblos, Dennis Banks and the Hopi, Yavapai, Paiute, Zuni, Apache, Lakota, Tohono O'odham and all the others from so many nations. Some came from as far away as Hawaii, others brought their cultures from the south, like the Azteca dancers from Tonatierra. They all assured the Supai that they are read to stand with them and fight. The cooks in the camp prepared some of the best food ever. Thank you to the Havasupai Tribe for providing so much for everyone.
In this pristine and beautiful setting, we listened to Keith Secola, Casper and many other musicians, who as always sang with their hearts. There were dancers and singers from Hopi, Navajo and many other Indian Nations. Many thanks as well to the Supai leaders and organizers for this event, and the Sierra Club for helping bring Earthcycles radio.
The audio archives can be listened to at www.earthcycles.net (click Havasupai and scroll far down the page to listen or download.) Radio stations are encouraged to rebroadcast anywhere in the world. Many audios are already available in the permanent file and others will be soon be posted.
Thank you to all the organizers, the Center for Biological Diversity, Grand Canyon Trust and everyone who supported this event.
Special thanks to all those who labor and sacrifice in this cause of love to protect Mother Earth and the Grandmother Canyon from disease and destruction.
Photos and brief videos at Censored News: http://www.bsnorrell.blogspot.com/
Thanks to the UN OBSERVER & International Report at the Hague http://www.unobserver.com/ for spreading the word.
RED BUTTE: LUNGS OF GRANDMOTHER CANYON
by Matthew Putesoy
Vice Chairman Havasupai Tribe
The Grand Canyon is a national treasure, inviting 5 million people every year to explore and be inspired by its beauty. To the Havasuw 'Baaja, who have lived in the region for many hundreds of years, it is sacred. As the "guardians of the Grand Canyon," we strenuously object to mining for uranium here. It is a threat to the health of our environment and tribe, our tourism-based economy, and our religion.
Thank you, Secretary of Interior Ken Salazar, for announcing a two-year moratorium on new mining claims in the 1 million acres of lands around Grand Canyon National Park. But existing claims, such as those pursued by Canadian-based Denison Mines Corp., still threaten the animals, air, drinking water and people of this region.Denison, which has staked 110 claims around the Grand Canyon, is seeking groundwater-aquifer permits that would allow it to reopen the Canyon Mine, near Red Butte on the South Rim, as well as two other mining sites.
Uranium mining has been associated with contamination of ground or surface water.
Here, mining could poison the aquifer, which extends for 5,000 square miles under the Coconino Plateau, and serves as drinking water for our tribe and neighboring communities.
As I told Congress recently, if our water were polluted, we could not relocate to Phoenix or someplace else and still survive as the Havasupai Tribe. We are the Grand Canyon. Thanks to Arizona Congressman Raul Grijalva for introducing the Grand Canyon Watersheds Protection Act.
We urge U.S. Sen. John McCain to introduce it in the Senate.
Additionally, air and water pollution and the development associated with mining operations could deter tourists, the lifeblood of our economy. Visitors come here to hike, camp, relax at our lodge and enjoy the Havasu, Mooney, Beaver, and Navajo falls, which are among the best-loved and most-photographed waterfalls on Mother Earth.
Most importantly, Red Butte, where Denison Mines intends to reopen a mine, is a traditional site sacred to the Havasuw 'Baaja. Located in the Kaibab National Forest, Red Butte is known as Wii'i Gdwiisa, meaning "clenched-fist mountain." As longtime Havasupai leader Rex Tilousi says, "Red Butte is the lungs of our Grandmother Canyon."
My people have used these traditional Havasupai religious areas for centuries. Instead of allowing the destruction of our national treasure, we are asking the federal government to work with Havasupai Tribe to protect Red Butte and all of the lands on and around the Grand Canyon from further mining activities. This natural wonder is irreplaceable and demands our shared action and protection for those living now, and those yet to be born.
For more information go online to: http://www.arizona.sierra/club.org/
Matthew Putesoy is vice chairman of the Havasupai Tribe.

Back into the fray

After a totally relaxing five days away from the office, it's back to the mines.

Well, hardly.

An air-conditioned office will be a nice oasis, given a predicted high of 99 today and tomorrow, spiking at 103 Tuesday. Geez, what is this? Phoenix? Sure felt like it on the drive home from Orcas yesterday.

Things started off reasonably. Of course, it's going to be cooler if you're up and about by 6 a.m. I got up early to make sure I caught the 9:20 a.m. ferry back to Anacortes. On a summer weekend, it's always a good idea to arrive 90 minutes before your scheduled departure time. And so I did.

Yesterday was the first time in the four years or so that we've owned our cabin that things worked out where I could see a Mariners baseball game either on the way up or way back. I rolled into Seattle about 12:45, found a parking spot roughly half a mile from the stadium (even on the weekend, the lots charge too much), haggled a bit with a scalper for a field-level seat and found myself in place for the first batter at 1:10. A good thing, too, because he hit a home run and, just like that, Cleveland was en route to a 12-3 walloping of the home team.

It was 11-2 by the time I left in the seventh inning; Cleveland had already hit four home runs, including a grand slam. I was in the sun the whole time in 90-plus degree weather. But it didn't feel any cooler in the car on the way home -- a borrowed Honda Del Sol, by the way, a two-seater with makes 75 mph feel like 55. And there was no respite once I crossed the threshold into our home, despite Lori's best efforts with fans. Thank goodness for the A/C unit upstairs.

My last day on the island -- Saturday -- was as relaxing as the previous three. I pulled more weeds in the morning, took another four-mile run (this time from Obstruction Pass State Park, which offered some much appreciated shade), spent some time at the Saturday Farmers Market, bought myself a root beer float and headed off on a leisurely drive around the island. I consciously embraced the stereotype: middle-aged guy in a red convertible, with the Best of Led Zeppelin on the CD player as I zipped from Eastsound to Deer Harbor to Orcas Village and back to Eagle Lake.

I got back with enough time to take a shower and hustle down to the lake for the weekly potluck among Eagle Lake residents, most of whom are seasonal, like us. I met a handful of new people, ate well and, unlike most others, reveled in the surprise thunder-and-lightning show that resulted in a steady rain on the surface of an otherwise placid lake. It was so refreshing after the non-stop sunshine of the past few days.

Well, time to get dressed for work and have some breakfast. The mines await. May Rough and Rede's readers find themselves a million diamonds or, at least, a thousand rubies...

Havasupai: Singing away uranium mining

Tiny Hanna, Havasupai, spoke of the time when Supai lived all through these lands, now the Grand Canyon National Park. Tiny Hanna sang a morning prayer that the uranium mining would blow away. Click video arrow to watch. (Video by Brenda Norrell)

Havasupai Dance to Honor Earth

Dennis Banks joined Havasupai to halt uranium mining Saturday. Click for brief video of Havasupai and guests honoring the Earth at Red Butte during a four day gathering. Video by Brenda Norrell

Dennis Banks joins Supai to halt uranium mining in Grand Canyon

Red Butte: Lungs of Grandmother Canyon

by Matthew Putesoy
Vice Chairman Havasupai Tribe
July 25, 2009

The Grand Canyon is a national treasure, inviting 5 million people every year to explore and be inspired by its beauty. To the Havasuw 'Baaja, who have lived in the region for many hundreds of years, it is sacred. As the "guardians of the Grand Canyon," we strenuously object to mining for uranium here. It is a threat to the health of our environment and tribe, our tourism-based economy, and our religion.

Thank you, Secretary of Interior Ken Salazar, for announcing a two-year moratorium on new mining claims in the 1 million acres of lands around Grand Canyon National Park. But existing claims, such as those pursued by Canadian-based Denison Mines Corp., still threaten the animals, air, drinking water and people of this region.

Denison, which has staked 110 claims around the Grand Canyon, is seeking groundwater-aquifer permits that would allow it to reopen the Canyon Mine, near Red Butte on the South Rim, as well as two other mining sites.Uranium mining has been associated with contamination of ground or surface water. Here, mining could poison the aquifer, which extends for 5,000 square miles under the Coconino Plateau, and serves as drinking water for our tribe and neighboring communities.

As I told Congress recently, if our water were polluted, we could not relocate to Phoenix or someplace else and still survive as the Havasupai Tribe. We are the Grand Canyon. Thanks to Arizona Congressman Raul Grijalva for introducing the Grand Canyon Watersheds Protection Act.

We urge U.S. Sen. John McCain to introduce it in the Senate.Additionally, air and water pollution and the development associated with mining operations could deter tourists, the lifeblood of our economy. Visitors come here to hike, camp, relax at our lodge and enjoy the Havasu, Mooney, Beaver, and Navajo falls, which are among the best-loved and most-photographed waterfalls on Mother Earth.

Most importantly, Red Butte, where Denison Mines intends to reopen a mine, is a traditional site sacred to the Havasuw 'Baaja. Located in the Kaibab National Forest, Red Butte is known as Wii'i Gdwiisa, meaning "clenched-fist mountain." As longtime Havasupai leader Rex Tilousi says, "Red Butte is the lungs of our Grandmother Canyon." My people have used these traditional Havasupai religious areas for centuries. Instead of allowing the destruction of our national treasure, we are asking the federal government to work with Havasupai Tribe to protect Red Butte and all of the lands on and around the Grand Canyon from further mining activities. This natural wonder is irreplaceable and demands our shared action and protection for those living now, and those yet to be born.

Members of the public are invited to join the Havasupai today for a free public concert at 6 p.m. and for a public forum on uranium mining and protecting our sacred lands on Sunday at the base of Red Butte.

For more information go online to: arizona.sierra club.org/

Matthew Putesoy is vice chairman of the Havasupai Tribe.

Solitude in the San Juans

Though I love my wife and family, one thing that always replenishes me is the opportunity to spend time alone -- time with myself, experiencing, observing, thinking, and hopefully breaking through to new or deeper understanding.

So far, this little mini-vacation on Orcas Island is proving to be one of the richer solitary experiences I've had. Sure, I've done a couple of "guy" things: On Wednesday, I had a burger, fries and a pint of beer at the the Lower Tavern while I sat at the bar, between a couple of scruffy, long-haired locals, and watched the Mariners game on TV. On Thursday, I played 9 holes of golf at twilight and actually matched my best score on the course. Don't ask me how, except I got hot on the last three holes.

What's been meaningful is spending most of yesterday and all of this morning doing yard work. You'd think it would be monotonous, sitting or kneeling, and pulling weeds by hand out of the area on the left side of the house. But it's actually been relaxing and allowed me to fully appreciate the proximity and wonder of nature. Same goes for being quiet as a mouse while padding around the house morning before breakfast.

How to convey what I've seen and felt? Well, first imagine absolute stillness. I wake up alone in the cabin with not a single sound and go to the windows, first to see the wall of green outside the bedroom -- the towering evergreens -- and then over to the other side to look out at the water between Orcas and Bellingham.

I watch the little songbirds come up to the feeder -- the usual juncos and sparrows -- and then I'm shocked to see a Western Tanager, a rock star of a bird with brilliant yellow and splashes of black and red. Later, not one but two Northern Flickers peck around on the ground. And, then, a young Yellow-Rumped Warbler -- the first I've seen at Eagle Lake. (And, no, I'm not making up the name.)

While weeding, I hear a thrum. It's a hummingbird in the lavender that Lori has grown and it's within 10 feet of me. It alights on a branch, wings still for a moment, then comes back to the lavender. Turning over rocks, I see only a couple of spiders and watch them scurry along the shaded ground. Looking down the gravel driveway, I spot two blacktailed deer foraging for food. There's a doe and a young buck, who pauses to stare me down for a full minute before turning away and sauntering down the hill.

Heading toward the rear of the property, I gaze down at the tansy ragwort that I plan to pull and my eyes see a gorgeous butterfly land delicately on the yellow flower and spread its wings, seemingly taking in the warmth of the sun. Later, sitting on the porch with a tuna sandwich, I'm about to take a bite when I notice a honeybee has landed on the bread. I shoo it away but wonder if that winged insect has ever encountered a human before -- probably not, which would explain its innocence, its fearlessness, in landing on my plate.

Finally, I take a run. I'm nearly done with my four-mile loop when I pause on a portion of the new Eagle Lake trail and look out on the placid waters of the lake. There, between two fir trees, appears a majestic sight: a bald eagle gliding silently, powerfully, from right to left.

I have two more nights here and a full day tomorrow before I leave early Sunday. During this trip, I've done relatively little, compared to my usual running/hiking/golfing activities, but I already know this visit will rank among my favorites. This time, more than others, I can imagine living here year-around -- or, at least, most of the year.

It will be nice to get home to Lori. For now, I'm enjoying the solitude of this spectacular place.

The sun, the moon and the stars

A catch-all headline is what you get when you haven't written for two, nearly three, days. So here goes...

The sun. We're officially a month past the start of the vernal equinox, so it only makes sense that we'd be having warm, trending to hot, weather these days. Personally, I'd rather add layers than shed clothes, but here I am sitting in a T-shirt and shorts in the basement, owing to the lingering heat from this afternoon. We're in for a hot stretch these next few days, with predicted highs of 85 Wednesday and Thursday, 91 on Friday, then 98 on Saturday and Sunday. Ugh. Enough of the sun. Bring on the cool fall weather.

The moon. Yesterday was the 40th (fortieth!) anniversary of the moon landing. The question that seemed to be everywhere: Where were you when Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon? My colleague, the multitalented cartoonist Jack Ohman, wrote a wonderful reminiscence for The Oregonian. I was 16 at the time, but I've got to confess: I have no idea where I was. I don't have any explanation other than some people and events simply matter more. In our Mexican Catholic family, John and Robert Kennedy were revered as saints, so I sure remember where I was when each of them was shot. Same goes for when Saigon fell, the Challenger exploded and the Twin Towers were attacked. Though I feel sheepish for not recalling the event better, it is pretty (expletive) amazing that human beings could figure -- with absolute precision -- how to send a man to another celestial body, millions of miles away, and bring him back.

The stars. As I left work last night around 6 p.m., I emerged from the tunnel (well, actually more of a breezeway) onto Jefferson Street and couldn't help but notice the scene across the street. Dozens of people -- many of them holding cameras, lights and other portable equipment -- filled the sidewalk outside the brick-facade University Club and snaked around the corner onto Sixth Avenue, while a traffic cop made sure cars and buses didn't come close to disrupting what was going on. It was the cast and crew of "Leverage," a TNT series that's been filming at various locations around town. Instantly recognizable: Timothy Hutton, the star of the show, who was seated in a chair, holding a small child in his lap. I have yet to see the show but, with this touch of Hollywood so close at hand, I now have the incentive to check it out. Especially since Hutton seems to be a pretty good guy.

And that's the way it is...

I was nearing the end of a too-long work day Friday when word came that Walter Cronkite was dead at 92.

The so-called "Most Trusted Man in America" had died from complications from dementia. I turned the TV to CNN and, sure enough, the instant news coverage morphing into analysis had begun. I don't recall who the interviewer was, nor whom he was interviewing. But it occurred to me that Cronkite, the consummate pro, probably would have been uncomfortable with the saturation coverage sure to ensue this weekend.

I don't have time to go into depth right now; a list of errands awaits on this Saturday morning. For now, I'll share two excerpts from a news obituary, written by Robert Lloyd, TV critic at the Los Angeles Times, that we ran today in The Oregonian.

He was serious but good-humored; he had a common touch without being folksy; he was impartial but not amoral; disinterested but not detached; above the fray but not without a point of view, although he never made himself the story.

And...

Network news anchors still aim for that mix of eloquence and authority that Cronkite embodied, but they compete, at a disadvantage, with the noise of an ascendant punditocracy and the mountain-from-molehill nattering of cable news organizations that live on crises -- it's not the voice of reassuring honestry that they cultivate but one of perpetual anxiety.

Amen to that. R.I.P., Walter.

March 6, 1981 file photo by The Associated Press

15 in 15

So here it is, Friday morning already. Just finished listening to a track by Ana Popovic, the Serbian blues guitarist, and next up thanks to the shuffle function (one of the greatest interventions ever, by the way) is Amy Winehouse.

Hardly a logical segue from bluesy women to 15 in 15, but here goes. A friend of mine asked me on Facebook to come up with a list of "fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you." The challenge: Make it "the first fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes."

(Another blues musician, Susan Tedeschi, just came on...)

Anyway, I thought it was a great exercise, worthy of repeating here in hopes that some (any?) of Rough and Rede's followers might share their list.

Here's mine:

The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao -- Junot Diaz
The Namesake -- Jhumpa Lahiri
The Memory Keeper's Daughter -- Kim Edwards
Gilead -- Marilynne Robinson
A Thousand Acres -- Jane Smiley
Breathing Lessons -- Anne Tyler
A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian -- Marina Lewycka
The Kite Runner -- Khaled Hosseini
A Thousand Splendid Suns -- Khaled Hosseini
When We Were The Mulvaneys -- Joyce Carol Oates
Middlesex -- Jeffrey Eugenides
The Double -- Jose Saramago
Song of Solomon -- Toni Morrison
After This -- Alice McDermott
Hunger of Memory -- Richard Rodriguez

And here's Lakshmi's. After all, she's the one who got this started.

P.G. Wodehouse books
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
Rebecca
Pride and Prejudice
Emma
The New Earth
Ageless Body Timeless Mind
The Flame Trees of Thika
The River
A House for Mr. Biswas
The Mistress of Spices
The God of Small Things
The Autobiography of a Yogi
White Teeth
Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure

So...what's on your list? Heck, I'd be happy seeing 5 in 5!

Mentors making a difference

This afternoon, I'll be attending a meeting of the Big Brothers Big Sisters' Latino Mentoring Advisory Council.

We haven't met since spring, so it's important we come away with some momentum in planning a fall networking event to spread the word about the agency and its nationally acclaimed mentoring programs. I've been a member of the advisory council since its inception a couple years ago. We're a collection of professionals and community members who advise the BBBS staff on ways to recruit more so-called Bigs (caring adults) who can be mentors to Littles and incorporate cultural sensitivity into its training of volunteers.

The agency has made it a priority to serve the rapidly growing Latino population in the Portland-Vancouver metro area. The biggest challenge: recruiting more adult mentors. Believe me, there's no shortage of kids waiting to be matched up.

Take a couple minutes to watch the video. And if there's any way you can help -- with a referral, a donation, or as a volunteer yourself -- please get in touch with me or the agency: www.bbbsnorthwest.org

The next Supreme Court justice

Despite the Senate theatrics and the right-wing hysterics, it's all but certain that Sonia Sotomayor will become the newest member of the U.S. Supreme Court.

So much has been written already about her historic nomination that I hesitate to add to it. So I'll let it go at this. Here are two of the more intelligent commentaries I've read in recent days -- one from the liberal Marie Cocco of The Washington Post, the other from the conservative David Brooks of The New York Times.

Cocco, in "Empathy beyond the beltway," takes on Sen. Jeff Sessions of Alabama, the ranking Republican on the Judiciary Committee, who said he won't vote for a judge who uses the "empathy standard" in deciding cases -- "a reference to the sensitivity toward average people that President Obama said he looked for in nominees, and which has been transformed by the political right into code for favoring blacks or other ethnic minorities over whites."

Cocco writes:

This is the key to understanding the unhinged argument about "empathy." It presumes that the white male experience is the only authentically American experience, and therefore the only one that could possibly be unbiased.

Brooks, in "The Way We Live Now," takes a different tack in looking at the personal sacrifices Sotomayor, a classic workaholic, has made enroute to the top.

(H)er biographers paint a picture of a life now that is frantically busy, fulfilling and often aloof. "You make play dates with her months and months in advance because of her schedule," a friend of hers told The Times. This isn’t the old story of a career woman trying to balance work and family. This is the story of pressures that affect men as well as women ... It’s the story of people in a meritocracy that gets more purified and competitive by the year, with the time demands growing more and more insistent.

Can't wait until the nomination hearings are over and Sonia is confirmed. Six months after seeing our first black president sworn in, the political right is just going to have to get used to seeing a wise brown woman's face on the bench.

Photograph by Mario Tama, Getty Images

Hatred or love?

New in my cubicle: an oversized postcard with an inspirational saying that I brought back from the Martin Luther King Jr. Center for Social Change.

Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear; only love can do that.
Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it.
Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it.
Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.

-- Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Goodbye, Oregon; Hello, Texas

We arose early today -- as in 3:30 a.m. -- in order to get Jordan to the airport by 4:15 for his flight to El Paso, via Phoenix.

The 10-day leave that began after his graduation from boot camp in Georgia came to end this weekend and PFC Rede was required to report to Fort Bliss by midnight Tuesday or face sanctions. So, with plenty of motivation and looking ahead to the next chapter as an active-duty soldier, he diligently packed up a duffel bag, a suitcase and a carry-on to see him through the next few months.

All we know of his next assignment is that it involves advanced infantry training. Where it leads from there is a question mark, with the most likely answers being Iraq or Afghanistan. Early on, Jordan considered opting for training with the Army's Airborne Division but he decided, wisely, I think, to put that off in favor of more general training so he can get a better sense of his own interests and abilities and how they might match up with different opportunities within the Army.

Already, he's heard of at least three fellow soldiers from Ft. Benning who were dismissed from Airborne school because of injuries or certain deficiencies. The standards are rigorous -- as they should be for that kind of specialty.

We enjoyed being with Jordan in Columbus and Atlanta, as well as Portland this past week. He spent a lot of time with his girlfriend Jamie but also managed to see a few friends, too, as well as a slew of relatives at this weekend's reunion.

While it was nice to see him relax in front of the TV -- watching the UFC (mixed martial arts) fights Saturday night was a priority -- two things that I saw at the beginning and end of his visit tell you everything you need to know about his character.

First, despite arriving home around 3 a.m. on Tuesday, July 13 -- six hours later than scheduled because of an unscheduled landing in Denver, due to mechanical problems -- he came into the house, immediately set down his bags, got on his knees and reached under the dining room table so he could pet Rudy, one of our two cats, whom he hadn't seen since leaving for basic training.

Second, as we were about to leave for the airport this morning (keep in mind, this is at 4 a.m.), he paused to again stroke Rudy's back and then reached into the cage where our dog Otto was resting to give him some love, too.

He may be a soldier, but he's always been a softie with animals. No wonder that Rudy was perched in Jordan's lap the night before as he sat on his bedroom floor, packing for this trip.

RedePalooza

...also known as the 33rd annual Rede Family Reunion.

Whew!

The three-day reunion is over and done and Lori and I are feeling pretty tired out. Maybe not the best thing to say right off the bat, after entertaining about 40 relatives (including our family of five, plus two girlfriends) and executing the logistics of five scheduled events, including four meals. But I'm just being honest. (More on that below.)

This weekend's honored elders were my dad, Catarino, pictured above, between his two brothers, Luciano (L) and Paul (R), all of whom are in their 80s. They are three of the five brothers who are still alive of the original nine. Health issues and financial considerations kept the other two away. It was great to see these three brothers, of course, and appreciate their longevity and good-hearted nature.

Likewise, it was nice reconnecting with so many first and second cousins and other extended family. Makes you appreciate your roots a little more, along with the enduring tradition of these annual get-togethers.

We now have a much greater appreciation and respect for what other aunts, uncles and cousins (as well as my dad and stepmother Oralia, below, with Lori) have gone through in hosting much larger gatherings throughout the years. (Uncle Paul has hosted seven(!) in Gilroy, Calif., known as the Garlic Capital of the World.) It's a lot of work.

You begin with a "save the date" email and letter and follow up with maps and more detailed communications as you fill in the specifics of the weekend. You visit local motels/hotels to negotiate the best group discount; reserve a community center and a local park; make arrangements with a parish priest to say a special Saturday Mass; line up food and beverages for the weekend; plan some games and entertainment; send "last call" reminders to those who haven't RSVP'd; and then you wait...wait for enough people to respond to justify holding the event.

In our case, that was a very real concern, given that no family reunion had ever been held north of San Francisco and knowing the economy wasn't in the best shape. Still, people came from California (where most of the family lives), Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, Washington and Alaska (my younger sister, Cathy, below). We thought one couple was coming from Virginia, but they were a no-show.

Once the reunion is under way, you're on -- visiting with as many people as you can, setting things up, taking them down, cleaning up, packing up and getting ready for the next meal/event.

Saturday got off to a nice start at St. Andrew Catholic Church with a short but sweet sermon by Father Chuck Lienert about the gift of family. Following that, the picnic at Peninsula Park was the highlight -- a good five-hour block of time to play poker, move from table to table and enjoy the fresh air. It was overcast and a bit chilly at first for many of our guests, but it warmed up nicely and the community center was downright stuffy by the time we sat down to dinner Saturday.

Speaking of dinner, we got burned twice by folks who agreed to furnish food for the reunion. First, it was Quizno's. The local store manager forgot -- simply forgot -- about the order we had confirmed twice before. That meant we cut it closer than we should have had to in getting ready for Friday night's welcome. The bigger screw-up came Saturday, when we learned at 1 pm, with stomachs beginning to growl, that the guy who was coordinating a noon delivery of homemade tamales, rice and beans had -- again -- simply forgotten about us. We had to scramble and quickly order burritos from a local Mexican fast food restaurant to save the day.

Because the caterer who flaked out was supposed to deliver enough food for lunch and dinner, we had to order yet a little more food for dinner. I phoned in an order to pick up at 7 and, wouldn't you know it, they hadn't even started on the order. Argh! So...I had to wait half an hour while they prepared tamales and more rice and beans. Needless to say, the delay made for some hungry folks.

Finally, Sunday morning came around -- actually faster than we would have liked, given how late we finished cleaning up the night before -- and at last a meal was served on time and with the TLC we intended. We served up some awesome pozole (a hominy stew with beef and chicken), corn tortillas and pan dulce (Mexican pastries).

And now, as the day comes to a close, we turn our attention to Jordan. He leaves for Fort Bliss early tomorrow morning, so Lori and I will be up again before daylight to ferry him to the airport and, once again, send him off with our love and prayers. It's been great having him home for the past week. In about eight hours, we'll be saying goodbye...

Graduation Day!

At the Turning Blue ceremony a week ago Thursday, Jordan and his fellow recruits were awarded the coveted blue Infantry cord, signifying their new status as active duty soldiers.

The following day, under a cloudless Georgia sky, we watched from the shade of a grandstand as members of the 2nd Battalion, 58th Infantry Regiment marched onto the parade grounds behind the National Infantry Museum for their actual graduation.

The grassy field is considered hallowed ground -- and for good reason. At a dedication ceremony in mid-June, soil from eight American wars was sprinkled over the field as a reminder of the Infantry's role in U.S. history. Imagine marching on green grass, with granite markers containing so-called "sacred soil" from the battlegrounds of Yorktown, Antietam, Soissions, Normandy, Corregidor, Korea, Vietnam and Iraq and Afghanistan.

Friday's graduation ceremony itself took about an hour and was followed by a visit to the National Infantry Museum, recently completed at a cost of $100 million and dedicated on June 19, with former Secretary of State Colin Powell, himself a former Fort Benning trainee, as guest speaker. (Check it out here: http://www.nationalinfantrymuseum.com/)

During the ceremony, there was music (patriotic songs performed by the Army band based at Fort Benning), there were speeches (from the commanding officer), there were a handful of awards (to the highest-ranked soldiers in each company and their drill sergeants), there was a demonstration of the equipment carried by members of a typical nine-man squad, and there were still and video cameras to record every moment. Most of all, there was a feeling of accomplishment at completing a rigorous 14-week basic training program.

Immediately afterward, soldiers were either given leave to spend time with their families or they were shuttled onto buses to be shipped to their next assignment, whether it be with a National Guard unit in their home state or another level of training, such as Airborne school or advanced infantry.

In Jordan's case, he'll be with us in Portland through Monday, July 13, when he flies to Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas, to begin his first assignment as a bonafide soldier. From there, he says, he'll most likely be shipped to Iraq or possibly Afghanistan. Things could change at the last minute -- and change back again.

All in all, an unforgettable experience.

Jordan and Jamie

Happy to see each other? Yup.



Inseparable? Yup.



Wouldn't you be after 14 weeks??

Turning blue

A week ago today we rose early to drive 100 miles from Atlanta to Columbus, Ga., to be in place by 10 a.m. for two events at Fort Benning that would conclude with our son Jordan officially becoming a soldier.

To say we were proud parents -- eager to pick our trim, tanned 21-year-old out of the approximately 60 recruits in his company -- doesn't do justice to our emotions. We hadn't seen him for 14 weeks and we knew we were treading, literally and figuratively, on unfamiliar ground from the moment we drove past security onto the base, toward the Sand Hill Rec Center and nearby Kanell Field where things would take place on the parade grounds.

It was easy to get caught up in the excitement of the moment, but in retrospect I have to say that it was the "turning blue" ceremony where the fog began to lift for me.

You see, I've always had a murky understanding of the U.S. Army -- everything from its traditions and organization to its far-flung locations and Jordan's place in it. After spending parts of two days on base, I can say I'm beginning to grasp it.

Fort Benning is THE place where the Army trains every recruit who wants to be an infantryman. Thus, it's all men, as women are prohibited from combat. The guys go through physical training while learning all the basics -- how to shoot and care for their weapon, how to fire grenades and rockets, how to survive a chemical weapons attack, how to give first aid on the battlefield, etc.

Each recruit who successfully completes basic training is awarded a blue braid that is attached to the right lapel so that it encircles his shoulder. Lori, Jamie (Jordan's girlfriend) and I walked onto the field at the appropriate time and it was me who put the braid in place during the "turning blue" ceremony. Quite an honor for this peacenik of a dad.

In that instant, looking at the young man Jordan has become -- with great posture, self-discipline and a newfound self-confidence -- it was blindingly obvious that this is the experience he wanted all along, an opportunity to challenge himself and be part of a team in service to his country. Finally, we could see the hills he had run up, the woods where he had learned nighttime navigation, the barracks where he had slept, even the infirmary where he'd been treated for pneumonia.

It's possible that we might have come the longest distance to be there for Jordan. All but four states were represented in the two companies, Alpha and Charlie, that make up the 2nd Battalion, 58th Infantry Regiment, and the commanding officers noted that the largest number of recruits had come from Texas, Indiana and Florida. In addition to those states, I recall seeing visitors' cars with license plates from all over the South -- Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Tennessee and Kentucky -- as well as an occasional Wisconsin, New York or Pennsylvania.

The actual graduation ceremony came the next morning, on a sunny Friday, on the grassy field behind the just-opened National Infantry Museum. More on that in my next post...

Ebony and Ivory

After spending parts of three days in Georgia's largest city and the Southeast's commercial and transportation hub, it's interesting to compare perceptions with realities after the fact -- and contrast those with what I know of the place I live.

I speak, of course, of ebony Atlanta and ivory Portland.

I was surprised to realize that we're actually the bigger city because Atlanta just feels bigger: Portland, 550,396 residents, No. 30 nationally in 2007 vs. Atlanta, 519,145 residents, No. 33.

But, of course, Atlanta is more diverse, with 61 pct African American, 33 pct white, 4.5 pct Hispanic/Latino, 1.9 pct Asian vs. Portland's 78 pct white, 6.8 pct Hispanic/Latino, 6.6 pct African American, 6.3 pct Asian. (More on the implications of these numbers down below.)

Aside from having one of the world's busiest airports, Atlanta's major attractions include the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site, the Carter Presidential Center, a handful of excellent colleges (Emory, Georgia Tech, Morehouse and Spelman) and professional baseball, basketball, football and hockey franchises. The city hosted the 1996 Summer Olympics, is home to CNN and serves as state capital.

Portland, meanwhile, is known for bikes, brews and the Blazers (our only major league sports team), as well as a lively counterculture, liberal politics and coffeehouses up the wazoo. We've got Reed College and Nike (well, actually it's in the suburbs). Better yet, we're an hour from the mountains and an hour from the ocean.

I could blather on about our similarities and differences. For instance, Atlanta has a surprising canopy of trees but no one would ever mistake that city for being "greener" than Portland, with its progressive building codes and land-use laws. And, make no mistake, anyone visiting Atlanta right about now is going to deal with heat and humidity that is rarely felt in Portland.

What's most striking about Atlanta, I suppose, is both obvious and unremarkable -- and yet fraught with meaning -- in a city where three out of five residents are African American. Everywhere you go, you see black people in jobs and other roles that, in Portland, would be rare:

Hotel desk clerk, restaurant chef (not just the wait staff), store clerks, police officers, National Park Service rangers (Smokey Bear hats and all), news anchors, scientists, lawyers, business people, Geek Squad techies at the electronics stores.

Obviously, part of this is nothing more than reflecting the city's demographics and its long history as a slave state. The more inspiring way of thinking about it is recognizing Atlanta's prominent role in the Civil Rights Movement. Yes, Martin Luther King Jr. grew up here but so did other legendary leaders -- Ralph Abernathy, Andrew Young, Julian Bond, Hosea Williams, John Lewis -- who participated in the Freedom Rides, founded SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) and generally pricked the conscience of a nation that had tolerated separate and unequal for far too long.

It may seem utterly ridiculous to comment on black people doing any of thousands ordinary jobs and going about their daily business in a very routine way. But I, for one, prefer to acknowledge the extraordinary courage and unyielding vision that won equal rights for an entire people. If you've only lived in the Northwest, you can't grasp the enormity of that history. Spending even two or three days in Atlanta, you can literally see the legacy of the Civil Rights Movement all around you.

I'm not so naive that I don't recognize that issues of race, class and education continue to separate the haves from the have-nots. At least here, you can appreciate how far we've come as Americans.

Photograph by Flip Schulke/Corbis

The first week of July

I got back from Georgia last night. There's so much to tell about that trip that it can't possibly fit in a single post. In the meantime, I needed to come up with a catch-all headline for a few other things that I want to take note of.

In no particular order...

1. Eat a cupcake and help The Dougy Center at the same time. Tomorrow, July 7, from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., Cupcake Jones, a locally owned bakery in the Pearl District (307 N.W. 10th Avenue), will be donating 5 percent of its proceeds to The Dougy Center.

Last month, I wrote about the "suspicious fire" that destroyed the center in Southeast Portland. No arrests have been made, but friends and clients of the center, along with board members and staff, are pitching in to help raise funds so we can rebuild on the site.

At the most recent board meeting, June 29, the staff briefed us on plans to move forward without missing a beat as it pertains to group counseling sessions for children and family members who've experienced recent deaths. Afterward, it was an uplifting experience to see new playground equipment (already installed before the fire) dedicated in the name of a longtime volunteer. Read The Oregonian's story here: "Dougy Center, determined to rise from the ashes, dedicates playground"

2. The "Three Girls and Their Buddy" concert at Oaks Park was a wonderful way to chill before rising early the next morning to fly to Georgia. It was a warm, comfortable evening, with the performers seated on stage beneath towering trees and a near-full moon. They sang the first song together, then did five rounds where each artist took a turn singing her or his own song individually, before finishing with another group song and an encore.

Shawn Colvin sounded wonderful, better than Emmylou Harris in my book, but Patty Griffin rose above them both, earning the evening's only standing ovation for "Heavenly Day."

3. I've also written previously about Oregon's creative class and The New Oregon Interview Series.

This past weekend, in The Oregonian's Sunday Opinion section, we published a piece by Tiffany Lee Brown, director of the nonprofit organization New Oregon Arts & Letters, and a multidisciplinary artist. Tiffany's essay, "Riding out the recession," offers a valuable perspective on the challenges and rewards of making a living from art in contemporary Portland. An excerpt:

As an artist, freelance writer and newly minted adjunct college faculty, I'm struggling hard to make ends meet. Bitterness descends along with anxiety when I watch phenomenally inventive, talented people draw tiny audiences or lose money making their art. Even our more traditional institutions, like the Oregon Ballet Theatre, have barely escaped going under. We're broke, and we deserve better than this. I've been homeless before, I think darkly. I don't want to do it again.

Then I watch my creative community coalesce. The tiny group of people who support the more unusual aspects of my artwork step up with volunteer help, artistic participation and the kind of feedback that nurtures the soul. Friends and strangers alike put in long hours to help me curate a benefit event for a nonprofit group ...

It reminded me why I stay in this city ... I stay here for the people, our instinct to help rather than compete with each other. I stay here for the so-called livability and the precious sensation of freedom we still possess -- despite our higher profile in the world and the gentrification of our neighborhoods.

I commend her piece as a breath of fresh air, compared to the steady diet of columns and analyses on politics and macroeconomics that we tend to gravitate to.