Rains of May

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Portland is gearing up for Rose Festival, the annual city-wide celebration. The Royal Court has been selected, the carnival has been erected along the waterfront, and eager treasure hunters are testing their wits as they search for the medallion. There's just one problem; roses aren't blooming because it's been too wet this year.

Portland is used to rain, and is even known for it. Iron statues decorating downtown sidewalks have been sculpted with umbrellas in their hands, raincoats are sold year 'round, and locals know it traditionally rains on the day of the Rose Parade. Yet by the end of a typical May, Portland has enjoyed at least a few weeks of dry and sunny 70°+ weather. This May, we've only had eight days without rain, and only half of those have seen clear blue skies and seasonally warm temperatures.

By now, meals should have been grilled on the back patio, produce should've been purchased from Farmers' Markets, and sunny days should've bee spent roaming city streets, with a cup of coffee in hand, shopping and watching chess hustlers pluck their pigeons in Pioneer Square. None of this has been done yet, at least by me, simply because gray skies and rain have chosen to dominate Portland's existence at this point in time.

Some have looked at the cloud laden skies and seen proof of man made climate change. Others point to they grayish back purveyors of precipitation and see a sign of an ending foretold of long ago. While I've briefly entertained both these explanations, I can't say I've embraced either theory with abandon. For all I know, this happens every 10,000 years, or so.

I will admit the gloom and sogginess carry with them a few positives. I can sit by my window and read a book as rain pats against the glass, which is a luxury typically reserved for autumn and winter. Plus, being trapped indoors gives me more time to write.

Yet, even though my time at the keyboard has increased, the quality of the work suffers. Being out among people inspires and fuels my writing in a way no book can. Just watching people, other than those in my immediate circle, interact with one another on the train, or a mall bench, helps supply me with clothing ideas and dialogue for a variety of characters.

Until this weather lets up, I'll be cut off from my academy of creativity and muse, soups and casseroles must still stand in for the grilled meats of summer, and the produce and cheeses of the outdoor markets will simply need to patiently wait for me to purchase them.

Finally, let's end with a poem, I wrote today, simply called Rains of May.


Gray clouds mask the traditional blue of spring,
Sending icy droplets pounding down on a soggy reality,
And force pedals to remain huddled for warmth.
Muddy diamonds sit abandoned,
As droplets splash up from their padded corners.
Children’s noses remain pressed against panes of glass,
Waiting for a few hours of liberty,
From a prison of water and wind and muck.

Uh, I Had Plans For Next Week

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Seriously, I have tickets to River Dance next week. I'd never have bought them if I'd known the world was going to end this weekend. At least, it's all coming to an end according to Harold Camping, 89 year old Bible scholar, and president of the religious non-profit Family Radio based in Oakland, California.

Camping, claims to have decoded Biblical clues which point to May 21, 2011 as the scheduled date of The Holy Rapture, when believers will be taken bodily into Heaven and the rest of us will be subjected to an Apocalyptic nightmare. While the abundance of reality TV programs lends credence to Apocalyptic nightmare prediction, I'm not going to put my tickets on Ebay just yet for the simple reason that global doom has been divined many times before.

Early Christians expected Jesus to return, and final judgement to occur, within a generation of his death. Montanus, was sure all Christians would gather in Turkey, for The Rapture, in the 5th century. Minister William Miller, convinced his Millerites the second coming would take place sometime between March 21, 1843 and March 21, 1844. More recently, Pat Robertson bought a Middle Eastern TV station so he could broadcast the second coming in the year 2000. Camping himself, originally predicted the second coming would occur in 1994, but has since admitted that forecast had been based on incomplete research.

None of the aforementioned end of days predictions have come true, and I don't expect this one to be any different. Yes, we've seen an admittedly long string of natural disasters recently. Plus, we've witnessed increased turmoil in The Middle East recently. Granted. However, every generation has suffered its share of calamities.

The Black Death of 1348, the Smallpox epidemic of the 15th century, and the Dust Bowl of the 1930s must have all felt like God's hand exacting final retribution upon the Earth. Similarly, mankind has always been plagued by wars and rumors of wars. Thus, scholars and theologians have been able to apply apocalyptic revelations to whatever era they were living in, but mankind endured.

I may have to eat a ton of crow on Saturday, but I believe humanity will continue to survive and progress beyond this week, this month, this year, this decade, this century, and even this millennium. There will be disasters, diseases, oppression, massacres, and wars. We'll deal with them, learn from them, and eventually overcome each hardship, just as we always have.

At least, that's my prediction.

It's Been Awhile

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If you're thinking that it's been awhile since I've posted anything on this blog, you're right. On April 26th I posted a blog on the legality of image use on blogs. Once it was finished, I hit a severe lull in inspiration. Part of the lull was caused by the news being dominated by stories I just couldn't get worked up about. In addition to my apathy toward the headlines, I've been struggling my way through a novel, which everyone else seems to love.

To begin with, even as my previous entry was being written, every single media outlet and TV channel was actively hyping the royal wedding. For two solid weeks, viewers could preview the wedding gown, download the recipe for the wedding cake, watch a story about the guy who polishes the prince's boot, and buy a genuine synthetic replica of the wedding ring, whatever that means.

In response to this media blitz, millions of people, who probably couldn't name four members of the royal family last year, suddenly became hardcore anglophiles over night. Souvenirs were purchased, late night/early morning parties were held, and royal fever swept the air waves. People, middle-class American people, even sent wedding presents to the royal couple.

Don't misunderstand me, I think young love is a grand thing, I really do. I don't know the royal couple though, nor had I been invited to the reception for cake and Champagne. Thus, I just didn't care.

Almost immediately following the best man's toast, Osama Bin Laden was killed by Navy Seals in Pakistan. This triumph of intelligence and covert ops sparked two opposing reactions. One portion of the public began celebrating as if it was V-J Day; I half expected a sailor to be photographed kissing a dame in Time Square. Another portion of society began crying the killing had been illegal and unjustified.

First of all, I'm of the opinion that the murder of 2,977 victims on 9/11/01 justifies the action all by itself. That being said, I couldn't jump for joy either. It wasn't that I thought it was tacky to celebrate the death of a human being. I respect people who couldn't celebrate for that reason, but for me it felt silly to celebrate something I'd considered to be inevitable. Practically every intelligence agency in the world, with the possible exception of Pakistan's, was looking for Bin Laden. Celebrating his death was like celebrating rain in Portland; no one knew exactly when it would happen, but everyone knew it would happen eventually.

I couldn't blog about the book I was reading either, because it's taking me a painfully long time to plod through. Multiple friends have told me how great The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is. So far, I'm not seeing it people. Perhaps I'm too used to mysteries which feature glimpses of the detective's personal life, but basically focus on the case. I don't mind flashbacks, the book I'm writing features several of them, but "Girl" devotes so much time talking about how Armansky hired Salander and who's not attracted to whom, that the flow of the case is lost. Hopefully, the story will settle down and I'll be able to get into it.


Like I said, it's been a blah few weeks as far as blogging is concerned. I'm back now though, and I have some interesting blogs planned, including a review of Robert B. Parker's final novel and the catch 22 of publishing. Stay tuned.