Twas the Night after Voting Day

November 4, 2020

We slept fitfully last night, with visions of sugar plums, a Blue Wave, a Green New Deal, the new great states of Puerto Rico and Washington D.C, and an expanded Supreme Court no longer dancing in our heads. In their place were nightmarish images of Four More Years and the dismal realization that about half of our country voted for the psychopath. Every hour or so I wake up, reach for the iPad, and doom-scroll through incomplete election results hoping for evidence of a miracle in the making.

Things look a bit more hopeful this morning, but it’s clear that a resolution is still many hours, perhaps days away. Each in our own way, Rocky and I leave the apartment seeking distraction for a few hours while waiting for the legion of counters to Count Every Vote.

Autumn Leaves

Rachael, as ever the more sensible half of Team Anderson, rolls her Bike Friday out the door for a ride down to Oregon City (she’s riding the BF because the Straggler is in the shop for a badly needed tune-up). Anticipating a kaleidoscope of autumn colors, she mounts her GoPro before leaving. She returns 40 miles later with a memory card filled with good footage, a clearer head, and a flat tire for me to repair.

Video sound track: Witchi-Tai-To, by Oregon

A Tale of One City

It was the worst of times, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Darkness, it was the winter of despair, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct the other way.

What the Dickens? Where’s the better half of that quote?

I should have gone biking with Rachael. Instead, I went out for coffee, dropped my Bike Friday off at our bike locker, and then walked back through downtown gloomily cataloguing images of our once beautiful city - nearly empty streets, with the faces of the few people that are about half-hidden behind their Covid masks; block after block of concealed office and store fronts, their windows and doors shielded by plywood; and nooks and alleys blighted by the unsightly camps of the city’s unfortunate army of the homeless. I’m sorry, but on this most most depressing of days it’s hard to see where it’s the best of times anywhere right now. At least not in one city, our city, Portland. Here’s how it looks to me today, in the winter of our discontent while we wait to see the outcome of the election and whatever terrible aftermath may ensue.

I can relate a bit, perhaps. Wake me up when it’s all over.

For block after block, especially in the vicinity of the epicenter for the demonstrations and riots Portland has experienced for the last three months, virtually every storefront is boarded over.

Many shops and offices are still open for business, but hardly look welcoming. This must be taking a terrible toll on downtown business. It’s even worse today, with some stores announcing their indefinite closure until the election and its aftermath have passed.

The plywood at least provides an easel for street and protest art. Above: the Apple store on Yamhill; below: the shops opposite it.

A new feature in Portland, as I assume it is in many cities now, is the proliferation of temporary outdoor eating and drinking venues.

Another common look here: sidewalks outside of shop entrances (here, the Burnside Whole Foods store) marked with tape encouraging patrons queued up waiting for entrance to maintain a safe distance from each other.

So much depends on your state of mind though. Change your focus just a bit, and it really is quite beautiful out - especially now.

Rachael’s right. I just need to get on my bike, focus on scenes like this, and clear my mind.

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Tricia GrahamWe wake up to a third day of trolling the news networks. Then I read your post and we both feel incredibly sad. In the early seventies we lived in Portland (Beaverton actually). Ken was working for Albert Starr, a pioneer in artificial heart valves, and although exhausting the work was extremely stimulating. Living in the suburbs with small children I found my neighbours and those at the school and preschool inclusive and kind. Our youngest son was born there and when we came to be discharged from hospital Albert had picked up the bill. The opportunity came for Ken to have a job at St Vincents Hospital and we were torn eventually deciding to return home to one here. I find it so hard to reconcile my personal experiences with the ugliness I am reading and hearing now. Actually I feel not a single person I know in the USA would be sufficiently brain dead to vote for the psycopath
We both feel for you and more than anything hope that once this ugly election is behind you there will be healing
Tricia and Ken
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3 years ago

Carolyn van HoeveYes second Tricia's wishes. It's certainly hard to conceive that 68 million people in your country are that self interested or living on a completely different planet. But it is looking hopeful and I think Biden will do it. Here's hoping and that this may be a turning point. As you note there is still so much beauty when you look in the right places.
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3 years ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesI think today's post is in the finest tradition of cycle blogs - documenting the cultural/economic nature of a place, and the writer's reaction to it. Unfortunately what you documented is profoundly saddening to us, your friends watching from North, and everywhere else in the world.

Most likely, Grampies will never actually enter the US again. But I must say, the last time on the way to Seattle and walking in a Walmart it felt much more like a Rainbow Coalition than a right wing dictatorship. Maybe we can all just cling to the very narrow blue rim down the coast. So I just pulled "Bicycling the Pacific Coast" by Spring and Kirkendall off the shelf and blew away the dust.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Tricia GrahamSad is the word, alright. This morning at least there’s cause for some optimism as the election outcome is becoming clear; there are undoubtedly dark days ahead though. There were destructive rioters downtown running amok and breaking windows two nights back, and Gov. Brown has to call in the National Guard. It weeks like it will be along time before the city feels normal again.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Carolyn van HoeveThis morning it looks like he’s a winner alright, so thank god for that. I’m anxious to see how quickly people can start to disarm and let life return to something normal. You’d like to think that folks Just would be exhausted by all the craziness of the last four years and ready to get on with life.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesThanks for the supportive words, Steve. It’s pretty bleak down here right now alright, but I don’t know that I’d write off the whole country just yet. For myself I’m looking ahead to the day when we can start feeling comfortable cycling the parts of the country that we love the best, most of which are deep red. Our month in John Day this spring was revelatory. If you could look past all of the angry and belligerent signs and flags, I enjoyed nearly all of our personal encounters. We need to find a way to reengage with each other as people again..
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3 years ago

Jen RahnWe were the recipients of so many acts of kindness riding through Red Country.

Hopefully we will all* be able to get back to the basics of being decent human beings: be kind, be helpful, be grateful.

*OK. Maybe "all" is overly optimistic. But I like to believe that most people are inherently good.
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Jen Rahn“In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart”. A. Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl.
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3 years ago

Tricia GrahamTo Scott AndersonCometh the hour cometh the man (and woman)
We had enough confidence to open a bottle of champagne
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3 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Tricia GrahamYes, celebrations are in order. I imagine the sound of millions of corks popping around the globe. I like this expression, which I don’t remember hearing before. Now, if the child-man will just goeth quietly.
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3 years ago