Capitol Mall

I ventured to Salem to meet a friend for lunch and distribute copies of The Old Crow Book Club to street libraries around the city.

It was a Saturday morning and I found myself standing alone across the street from the Capitol building. Nothing much of it could be seen because of construction fencing and barricades except for the gold and gleaming pioneer standing atop the dome. He seemed about as out of time in Oregon as the idea of a Warren-like Supreme Court changing America for the better.

Looking at the construction mess, it was hard to believe the Oregon Legislature was in session. Well, at least one chamber. The Republican minority (in politics and morality) of the Senate was still refusing to govern and one wonders why its members even went into governing. I bet most of them had never heard of Tom McCall or Mark Hatfield or Norma Paulus. To paraphrase Captain Ahab, I spit on your graves! (If Oregon soil would even deign to host them!)

My lunch date was an hour away so I meandered around the mall admiring the rose bushes and cherry trees and reading all tidbits of Oregon history written on star-shaped plaques. Of course nothing about socialist ocean beaches, drowning Celilo Falls and staging a state-sponsored naked rock festival for peace. And of course, a lot on Lewis and Clark and the Oregon Trail.

In the near distance, I spotted two men yukking it up near a sculpture. I knew instantly from their demeanor they were homeless.

I headed toward them because that’s what I do these days. They were hanging out on the mall in front of the Capitol! How could I not engage with them?

Besides, I needed directions to the joint where I was meeting my friend.

Yes, I still ask strangers for directions. The ones I receive from people are always more intuitive than ones derived from a phone and they don’t enrich a tech titan ruining the planet.

The men both said hello to me before I said hello. They were both in their 60s or 70s. One was standing, the other lying on a bench with his head and feet propped up on a railing.

I remarked it was a beautiful morning.

The standing man, who had his dress shirt completely unbuttoned, said, “I’m just working on my tan in this wonderful sunshine.” He then spread his shirt wider for better exposure.

A homeless man working on his tan! I laughed at that. You know, I have come to realize that the homeless people I encounter typically make me laugh a whole lot more than people who live in homes and hold down jobs.

I asked directions to the joint. They both knew where it was and provided them. The man on the bench even stood up to point the way! Then he he launched into a history of the mall and how Governor Roberts in the early 90s buried the god awful parking structure and created a wonderful public space where Republicans who don’t want to govern can at least stop and smell the roses.

I thanked the men and skipped away.