Washington County Sheriff and District Attorney both oppose Measure 105 in Oregon

On Wednesday, August 08, 2018, Kevin Barton, Washington County District Attorney, and Pat Garrett, Washington County Sheriff, had their joint statement in opposition to Oregon Measure 105 published in various newspapers in the Portland, Oregon metro area. These newspapers require registration to read their statement online, and while registration is free, the registration step turns a lot of readers away. So below is the statement in full. One of the points the sheriff makes repeatedly, and rightly so, is that the current law (ORS 181A.820) provides no sanctuary to an undocumented immigrant who commits a crime in Oregon. 

As district attorney and sheriff, we are the elected law enforcement leaders in Washington County. One of our primary obligations is to ensure public safety. We believe every member of our community has the right to live, work and raise a family in safety and that an essential aspect of being safe is feeling safe and having access to justice.

Through our role as public safety leaders, we are aware of Ballot Measure 105 (formerly known as Initiative Petition 22). This measure seeks to repeal ORS 181A.820, a 31-year-old Oregon law that controls when local law enforcement agencies may use local resources to enforce federal immigration laws. We are compelled to speak because we believe this ballot measure may negatively impact public safety.

Oregon's Legislature passed ORS 181A.820 in 1987 to provide structure regarding how and when local police can be involved in enforcing federal immigration law. This longstanding law states local police cannot use resources to detect or apprehend persons whose only law violation is federal immigration law. Importantly, this law does not prohibit local police from using resources to detect, apprehend or even cooperate with immigration officials for people who have violated federal immigration law and committed a crime. In other words, the current law (ORS 181A.820) provides no sanctuary to an undocumented immigrant who commits a crime in Oregon. In fact, it specifically authorizes police to share information with federal immigration authorities.

ORS 181A.820 strikes the right balance. Under this law local police cannot enforce federal immigration laws but can cooperate and communicate with immigration authorities if an undocumented immigrant commits a crime. While there are certainly ways the current law could be improved or clarified, and there appears to be some misunderstanding regarding how this law works, repealing it altogether is not the answer.

A repeal of ORS 181A.820 would likely create a chilling effect in our community. Certain members of the immigrant population may be less likely to report crimes, to access justice services such as restraining orders, or to even appear in court and testify as witnesses. Immigrant communities and families may become greater targets for criminals because they may be less likely to come forward or appear in court to testify. These are not hypothetical concerns; we have already seen these issues occur. If ORS 181A.820 is repealed, we believe these problems may increase.

Additionally, a repeal of the current uniform law that allows all law enforcement throughout Oregon to communicate with immigration authorities regarding criminal defendants would likely result in a patchwork of inconsistent ordinances and rules from various cities and counties.

Our community is safer when citizens and non-citizens alike report crimes and testify in court so we can arrest and prosecute criminals. We believe that ORS 181A.820 strikes the right balance to keep our community safe and we oppose the effort to repeal it.

Kevin Barton, Washington County District Attorney, and Pat Garrett, Washington County Sheriff.

Thoughts on yet another white terrorist, this time in Portland, Oregon

A lot of folks are shocked that the terrorist in Portland who murdered two people and sent a third to the hospital was both a Nazi sympathizer and a supporter of Bernie Sanders and Jill Stein.

I’m not shocked, probably because I’ve so many tweets from these folks around the 2016 election.

These people that believe in outrageous myths about Jewish people and their religion, but intended to vote for Bernie Sanders, are a strange bunch: they ignore the social issue stands of such candidates - their support for marriage equality, their rhetoric regarding racial justice, etc. - and zero in only, ONLY, on the populist economic message. Working-class white voters love fighters and outsiders, and it’s why you heard from them things like, “Well, I could vote for Trump or Sanders, either way.” Which makes no sense to people who carefully listened to what these two candidates were saying and read their track records, and as a result, saw the clear, obvious differences in these candidates. Trump repeatedly praised Sanders at rallies, because he knew how many of his supporters liked him - Sanders blasted Trump, but that never seemed to be heard by Sanders-or-Trump folks. Sanders-or-Trump folks also globbed on to Bernie’s support for gun ownership and his vote against immigration reform, which he said he did because pro-reform senators are “selling out American workers. In fact, they are selling out our entire country.” Trump-leaning supporters heard in those words “Immigrants are bad!”

The any-outsider-never-a-seasoned-politican crowd draws a diverse crowd, and I'm sorry that it took this incident for people to realize that.

And note that I say all of this as someone who voted for Bernie Sanders in the primary.

The murder by this terrorist, this white supremacist, has also brought back a memory:

10 or 11 or 12 years ago, taking a train from where I lived in Sinzig, Germany, my German wasn’t much better than it is now - and that means it was really, really awful. But I knew, from the tone of the voice I heard to my left, that something was wrong. I looked across the aisle and there was a young Muslim woman, in her hijab, and a German man across from her, in his 40s or so, scruffy, maybe a street person, sitting way too far forward on his seat, getting into her personal space, berating her with questions. She was answering softly, or not at all, eyes averted. No one else was watching.

Then I saw his hand go on her knee and I exploded.

I jumped up and yelled some of the few words in German I know, “DU! RAUS!” and in a softer but firm voice, “Fräulein, bitte, hier” pointing the seat across from me. She sheepishly moved across the aisle and sat down where I pointed, while the man stood frozen, not looking at me, staring straight ahead. He was contemplating arguing with me. So I yelled again, “DU! RAUS! JETZ!”

He never looked at me, but he did turn to the aisle and walked down the car, and got out at the next exit.

I was trying not to visibly shake from anger and fear. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that poor woman, so we sat in silence as I glared down the car at the man, making sure he wasn’t coming back. The train car was silent now. None of the other passengers said a word or tried to help. I got off two stops later. I felt bad that I had never spoken to the woman, but I just didn't know what to say. Or how to say it in German.

And even knowing what I know now, you bet your ass I would do it again. I will not stop.

And may I add that I freakin’ stuck that rolling R in “raus!” better than Seargent Schultz ever did.

love doesn’t always win

There’s a sign popping up around my neighborhood in various people’s yards. It’s produced by a group called Nasty Women Get Shit Done PDX (that link goes to their Facebook page). Proceeds from sales of the sign go to producing more signs for sale and to Lutheran Community Services NW Emergency Housing Fund, which provides financial assistance to incoming refugees. Here’s more information on where to buy the sign.

I think it’s great that these women have produced these signs, and I’m pleased to see them around town. The sign says:

The text:

In Our America

All People Are Equal

Love Wins

Black Lives Matter

Immigrants & Refugees Are Welcome

Disabilities Are Respected

Women Are In Charge of Their Bodies

People & Planet Are Valued Over Profit

Diversity is Celebrated

I don’t have the sign in my yard, and that has surprised some neighbors that know me.

Again: I'm pleased to see the sign - I like that people are taking such a strong, public stand. It's nice to know I'm surrounded by people that don't agree with the incoming Presidential administration. It gives me a great deal of comfort.

But I have three problems with the sign:

1) I really hate calling the USA “America.” The USA is a part of “America.” So is Canada and Mexico and all of Central America and South America. I get told off on this point every time I travel and meet people from these regions. It's an exhausting conversation.

2) The sign should say “Immigrants & Refugees Are Welcomed”, with a “d” at the end.

3) This is the really big one, the primary reason I don't have the sign in my yard: because of the part that says “Love Wins”. Because love doesn’t win. Unfortunately, very often, love loses. Very often, love doesn’t even come into play in the fight.

Love didn’t free the slaves in the USA - a war, a burning sense of social justice by many people (but not the majority of people), legislation and a minority of people with a lot of power did.

Love didn’t win World War II - the better militaries did.

Love didn’t prevent the Holocaust.

Love didn’t give women the vote in the USA.

And love didn’t win on November 8, 2016.

I have a huge amount of respect for those that are responding to the horror in the USA with a sense of love. That’s great. Good for you. I'm not telling you that you shouldn't have that value.

But I just cannot manage love in the face of evil. It would be hypocritical of me to put that sign in my front yard.

It will take something monumental to restore my faith in humanity, for me to believe that love wins, and, quite frankly, I think it’s impossible.

I haven't given up on life, or this world, or even this country. I’m going to keep fighting - non-violently, of course. I won’t repeat myself on how, I’ve said so quite plainly in earlier blog entries. But I confess that, for me, love has nothing to do with it. I fight because I value ethics, justice, humanism, equality and the planet. Not from a sense of love as much as a sense of righteousness.

Good luck out there, everybody.

Business trip to South Carolina

I usually don’t blog about my business trips. But I’m doing this one, regarding going to South Carolina in January, because it's a state worth blogging about, and because when I travel for business, I try to still be a traveler, not just a worker, and I'd like to show that.

I was up at 3:30 a.m. for my drive, then flight, to South Carolina, via Houston. That’s my usual time to get up for a business trip back East, because most flights leave the Portland Airport (PDX) at sixish a.m. Lucinda the dog and Gray Max the cat were terribly confused by my leaving in the night, and stood in the dining room with puzzled looks on their faces. The confused looks of pets is both charming and sad. I had everything packed and ready to go before I went to bed the night before. All I needed to do was get up, get dressed (clothes already laid out), brush my teeth, and go - takes me 20 minutes, tops. I took the ancient laptop, the black Macbook I bought in 2008, (2.16 GH Intel Core 2 Duo), still running Mac OS X 10.6.8, because that's as much as it can handle. I have been looking for an affordable computer with Ubuntu loaded on it already, to serve as my travel computer - without success. But since most of my clients, including this one, are still using older tech themselves, I figured the old MacBook might be a better choice than my bigger, newer silver MacBook.

It was a fun hour-long shuttle ride to PDX, driven by a guy from Iraq who was thrilled that I knew where Iraq is and that Northern Iraq is reportedly gorgeous (he assured me it is). I use a shuttle company that’s run by a Kurdish guy, so the drivers are always foreign and always interesting. I just wish they'd drive a little bit faster - that early in the morning, you aren't going to get a ticket for going 65 mph (or more!), on those wide open empty roads from here to Portland, but they just won't do it.

The PDX airport gets rave reviews from travelers, and it would be a great airport to have a layover in, with its free, fast wi-fi and terrific restaurants. But it’s not a layover airport - you start there or you end there. And nothing's open at that time of morning... so, yeah, I don't quite get the rave reviews.

I flew United Airlines for the first time in years - and, wow, United was awful. The check in staff were grumpy and uncommunicative - if they were there at all. They didn't look approachable at all. Also, they have a different way of enforcing the two carry-on rule than any airline I've flown - and ya'll know I fly a LOT. I pride myself on packing light - I have one suitcase which will always fit in the overhead compartment except on those tiny tiny planes, and a computer bag that will always fit in the seat in front of me. That's it. I can take that for any trip that's up to 10 days long, without accessing to what's needed to wash and iron clothes. But United has decided that a pouch around your neck to hold your travel documents is a purse - in other words, one carry-on bag. They will happily take on a traveler, usually a man, taking on two big carry-ons, neither of which are small enough to fit under the seat in front, as well as a large coat, which also won't fit there, but heaven forbid you carry on a pouch of travel documents and a bag, ALL OF which will fit under the seat in front of you, along with a carry-on for the overhead compartment. They demanded I put the pouch in my bag. So I would - and then take it right back out at the plane entrance. I hate when people and companies don't THINK about the reasons behind a rule, like the two-bag rule. I'm taking up FAR less space than guy with two carry-ons and the coat - but I'm the bad guy? Part of the reason this misapplication of the carryon rule irks me so much is that, since my time in 2007, in Afghanistan, I have left that pouch around my neck pretty much the entire time I'm on a trip. The entire time. I started doing it in Afghanistan because I wanted to always be ready to evacuate, leaving everything behind except my passport, money and other key documents in case of emergency. If I ever had to leave a plane in a hurry, I would leave the computer, leave the bags, and pity to anyone between me and an exit who decides, in an emergency, to try to take those things - all that matters is in a pouch on a strap around my neck. I wear it at breakfast. I've done presentations with my little pouch on, even in the USA. I do not leave my hotel room without it. I realized even when I was in Kentucky, with my family, that I had it on.

And I observed that the carryon rule is different for United when it comes to men: I watched men in Houston and in Charleston get on planes with three carryons, and the attendants say nothing at all. Nothing.

Rant over.

With just 45 minutes between flights in Houston, I was sprinting through the airport for my connecting flight. I hate doing that. I hate having to say "excuse me" to people standing in the middle of airport hallways, talking on their phone, or just strolling along, I hate the stress, I hate the rush... I did manage to nab some lunch to carry on - lunch isn't considered a carry-on by United, despite it being far, far bigger than a pouch around my neck.

I thought the hour of sleep I caught on flight #1, and the 30 minutes I caught on flight 2, would be enough, combined with the previous night's five hours of sleep, to get me through to my hotel, no problem. I was wrong. I was already a mess when I got to the Hertz counter for my car - disheveled, dark circles under my eyes... THANK YOU to the wonderful woman at the Hertz counter for checking me in, wishing me a Happy Birthday (had happened a few days before), asking me why I was visiting South Carolina and then what my talk would be about… Oh, the letter I wrote to Hertz… I was in the SOUTH, and the friendliness felt so good.

I left Charleston airport in a Nissan Versa and drove through a gantlet of political signs, and remembered that this is a PRIME primary state! I didn't see any more for one candidate than any other, but I was stunned that I saw no Hillary signs. None, at the airport or on the trip. Isn’t she supposed to win this state? I was so tempted to steal a "Jeb!" sign. Because the campaign slogan of "Jeb!" is so ridiculous. Jeb!

I got lost trying to find State Highway 17 from the airport, but thanks to Google Maps, I found my way. The drive to Myrtle Beach was a delight for most of the trip, through the low country, far out of sight of the beach. I love the trees and moss and swampy lands and the names of the churches and hole-in-the-wall restaurants and bars I passed. And the endless little stands for when it's Sweetgrass Baskets sellin' time. Sadly, it is NOT Sweetgrass Baskets sellin' time. But then nightfall came, and Northern Myrtle Beach turned out to be much farther than I had thought, and I started to stress out. It felt so much later than it was - it wasn't late at all, not by South Carolina standards, not by Oregon time. But I hate driving in darkness. I honestly thought I was going to have to pull over and stay at a motel instead of getting to the one for the conference. And all the ugly big chain restaurants and massive neon signs for beach stuff mega stores… So ugly. So much like Florida. Finally found my hotel, and then my keycard wouldn't work in the parking garage, so I had to come back in. The staff was nice But the hotel looks like a massive birthday cake on the beach, and, of course removes any beach access for locals. And the lobby stinks in that hotel-on-a-beach kind of way. Everything looked cheap. Did I mention I'm not a beach person? It was only 9:30 p.m. when my head finally hit the pillow, with a migraine headache pounding away… amazing that I got to sleep.

And oh how I slept. I woke at what I thought was an hour later, looked at the clock, and it was 6 a.m. I went right back to sleep until 8, and felt fantastic. It was an overcast, cool day, and the beach was empty - and THAT'S my kind of beach day. It was a day off, and I needed it. After a hearty breakfast of grits, biscuits with gravy, scrambled eggs and fruit, I was back in my room to put some finishing touches on my key note and my presentation and to check email. I had the door open to the balcony and the ocean, had the Myrtle Beach Public Information Channel - MBTV - on while I worked. The channel plays oldies while it shows an endless slide of local announcements: rules about the beaches (no glass! pick up after your dog!), local events (community health and recreation fair, story times at the local library), employment opportunities with government offices (the local public library is hiring!), local history notes, and more. The music was fantastic and PERFECT with the roar of the surf in the background.

Every town should have such a public info channel, BTW.

I was so taken aback at the lack of South Carolina accents I was hearing. No one I talked to that first day, other than the woman at the Hertz counter, seemed to have a South Carolina accent. Not even people on the local public radio station, which I listened to on the drive to Myrtle Beach, not even the South Carolina poet laureate I heard on said station, and not the front desk staff at my hotel. I also have to note that the hotel's web site, has NO black people in photos of people enjoying their establishment - yet I saw that it was mostly black Americans staffing it (no photos of that, of course). Anyway, I think I'm going to reboot my Kentucky accent, which I worked so hard to lose. I'm going to start using it again. Everyone was charmed when my sister visited me in Oregon, loving how she talked. I should reclaim my accent....

It wasn't until a group of hotel staff showed up around lunch time that I FINALLY heard Southern accents. Hurrah! They were there to spray the room for bugs. I asked if I should remove my coffee from the room, and the spray guy said "Naw, not if you want a little kick in it." Southern accent AND Southern humor!

You either love Southern friendliness or hate it. I love it. And don't tell me it's a put on, that it's insincere. It's not insincere when I do it, and it feels real to me when I encounter it. I miss it.

I've been to South Carolina before. I just drove through back in 1996, but as a child, when I was, like, 3, my family came here to visit friends of my parents. I don't remember much, but I do remember little things here and there. Like this photo of "real" Indians, which my Dad paid for us to have in the parking lot of a gas station somewhere between Kentucky and Florida and SC.

The second night, I went looking for a bottle of wine, and had a nice chat with a wine shop owner about liquor laws in South Carolina, which are almost as weird as Kentucky's. Later, in the hotel, whilst tweaking a presentation and enjoying said wine, a giant cockroach came dancing up the wall. Don't you fucking tell me it was a Palmetto bug - that's just a pretty name for a COCKROACH. I called the front desk and told them to either come get it or bring a saddle and ride it out. The facilities guy that came up to get it was obviously Latino, so I said, "No met gusta la la cucaracha," and it made him laugh.

I presented twice the first day of the conference. I had thought about going to walk out on the beach later, but it was overcast, cool, and the beach was just a beach - no interesting rocks to look at, no cliffs, just endless hotels and gray skies and gray, muddy-looking water. I just wasn't in the mood.

My last night of the conference where I was presenting, I was invited by a group to join them for supper at Dick's, an infamous tourist trap where the waiters insult the customers. You yell over to the bar "When is happy hour?" And the bartender yells back, "I'm not telling you!" Our waitress at one point said, "Hey, you two, quit yackin' and tell me what you want to eat!" I would find it cathartic to work there. It was a surprising choice, given how nice and sweet and sugary reputation is of the professionals that attend these conferences, but I suspect it was chosen as an opportunity by my hosts to show me they could let loose. My two margaritas went down well, but the fried shrimp and red neck fondue (tater tots with a bowl of cheese dip) gave me horrible heartburn. I'm not really complaining… it was comfort food, and I love comfort.

My opinion of Myrtle Beach, North or otherwise - just not my cup of tea. All those chain restaurants and theme restaurants and massive, ugly beach stuff stores and tourists traps and ugly hotels - yuck.

After all my presenting and schmoozing on the final day of the conference, I gave away my half a bottle of merlot and headed back down Highway 17. It was a gorgeous day - of course, now that I was leaving. Saw a guy on what I think was a KLR, obviously an ADVRider. He was one of only two motorcyclists I saw on the entire trip - Oregon almost ALWAYS has motorcyclists out on the streets, year-round, all weather! Since I was on the road much earlier than I expected, and I'd had such a light breakfast, I decided to stop at the first non-touristy food place I saw. I stopped at some barbecue place where they had a lunch buffet, with a drink, for less than $10. It was full of working class guys of all races except Asian, plus the added bonus of a guy that looked like Santa Claus, driving a red truck with Christmas decorations all over it. Hey, wait… the buffet had collard greens to DIE for, plus baked mac and cheese and even banana puddin'! I sat listening to the accents, the glorious, glorious accents. I had noticed yet again that the people on local radio did not have accents, for the most part, and it made me sad.

I didn't have time to stop to see any of the many state parks along the way - I wish I had. I should have stopped in Georgetown - I had plenty of time to drive around it. It's got a historic downtown and is the site of one of the oldest European settlements in North America. I probably had time to stop at the Center for Birds of Prey. There was plenty to see, and I could have chosen just one thing and seen it. But instead, I went straight to the airport. Which was dumb. And with this ancient computer, social networking is painfully slow - stupid slow. Sitting in an airport for three hours is stupid.

At last, it was time to board my flight to Chicago and, once again, I had just 45 minutes to get to my next plane - and this time, I had NO time to get food. I rarely buy food on a plane - it's ridiculously expensive and rarely good. But I bought the tapas box and, I have to say, it was DELICIOUS: red pepper bruschetta, rosemary crackers, hummus, spreadable peppercorn parmesan cheese,  seasoned pitted olives, almonds, and blueberry flavored dark chocolate acai. A glass of that merlot I bought in Myrtle Beach would have been perfect... I also bought a can of Pringles, and I chomped on them loudly just to annoy the manspreaders on either side of me. Being in the middle seat is never, ever fun, but I hate having to spend much of that time fighting for my own leg space! And the guy on the aisle even had the audacity to leave his tray table down, with all his crap on it, while he went to the bathroom, thereby preventing us from being able to leave our seats!

As we deplaned in Portland, I thought, for the 20th time, I really need to write a blog about the proper way to deplane... I had to scrounge for enough change for my Max ticket, and took so much time that, by the time I got outside, I was watching the train pull away. And at that time of night, the next train doesn't leave for 30 minutes. Sad trombone sound in my head... But, at last, the train left, I texted Stefan so he'd pick me up at the Sunset Transit Center, and I just sat looking at the lights of Portland...

And that was my trip to South Carolina. And a great example of what it's like to be a business traveler. So glamorous. Seriously, it's not glamorous, but I enjoyed it, and wish I could do this once a month. But work has dried up... 

Review: International Exhibition of Sherlock Holmes

Today, we went to the International Exhibition of Sherlock Holmes at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI). I was dying to go - I started reading Sherlock Holmes stories only in the last 5 years or so, and really enjoyed them. As I read, I realized that I'd never seen Sherlock portrayed the way he is in the books: annoying, abrasive, clueless about people's feelings around him, etc. I was hooked. Right after I'd read most of the stories, the first Robert Downey, Jr.-as-Holmes movie came out - and I really liked it. Then the BBC's modernized version with Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman came out - and I kinda lost my mind over how much I loved it.

So, yes, I was primed for this exhibit.

What did I think? The pros:

• The mystery that you solve is fun!
• The background about how Sir Arthur Conan Doyle came up with Holmes, as well as the emphasis on all of the many scientific and mechanical breakthroughs, was helpful in understanding why the stories were so popular.
• Really glad to see Edgar Allan Poe's influence acknowledged
• The exhibits meant to look of the period were beautiful.
• Getting to take rubbings and figure out codes and play with morse code - that's a lot of fun. 
• The review at the end of the exhibit, of different ways Holmes and Watson have been presented in various media and in toys, even in advertising, is good. 

The cons:

• At times, it was really confusing on how to proceed, how to get your evidence booklet punched correctly (as opposed to incorrectly - didn't know that was possible until well into the exhibit, and getting it punched correctly is crucial), etc. - had the docents not been there to guide us (and a big thank you to those that jumped in rather than just standing there watching people flounder), we would probably have never figured it out.
• At the beginning, there was much more to read than to see. I like reading - but I can read at home. I was expecting more short videos or more multi-media. 
• There was not nearly as much depth as I was expecting in something like this:
  • A bit about women specifically in the stories would have been welcomed. Holmes seemed to ignore women in most stories, except for Irene Adler. Reading different theories on whom Doyle based Irene Adler, and why that character fascinated Holmes (when he ignores women in most of the other stories), would have been really interesting.
  • Sherlock Holmes was a drug user. He may have had Asperger's. The character is, at times, completely manic. I saw no reference to this whatsoever in the exhibit. These characteristics are important - they are huge parts of what made Holmes so fascinating. Why ignore them?
  • A bit on Watson's character. He was a veteran of Afghanistan - that's relevance for today. There were things Holmes did that he did not like - like the drug use. He is our window into Holmes' world. Doyle changed the location of his war wound in different stories - what are theories behind that?
  • A look at the different villains and suspects of Holmes stories. What do they say about Doyle, or about the Victorian era?
  • A look at the era's fascination with secret societies - this fascination shows up in Doyle's stories. It deserved at least a mention in the exhibit, if not a display case with info about such. 
  • I was expecting to see some clothes from that era, worn by different classes of people.
  • More about Sherlock fandom. Photos of the museum in London? Photos from fan get-togethers? Photos of Sherlock fandom in non-English-speaking countries? This has been a global phenomena for more than a century. Why?
  • Did I miss a reference to the two episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation with Data (Brent Spiner) playing Sherlock Holmes in the holodeck and Daniel Davis as Moriarty? Those two episodes regularly rank among the very favorite episodes of ST fans, and Danny's portrayal of Moriarty sets the standard, IMO (yes, I worked with him once and, therefore, I get to call him Danny and, no, he would never, ever remember me). If that wasn't there, tsk tsk. And if it was there, then it's too small, but just one tsk.
• $18 admission is a LOT OF MONEY. I didn't get that level of money's worth. 
• There was a "I am Sher LOCKED" t-shirt shown in the exhibit, but not available in the gift shop. OH THE HORROR. 

If you go to the exhibit:

• Go as early in the day as possible - that will help you avoid the kids, as they just endlessly pound on buttons and push levers with no care about what's happening at all, and will just stand there, not understanding that, yes, you are there to look at what they are standing in front of. 
• If an exhibit doesn't look interactive, amid others that are, then take some extra time to study the exhibit - there may be something you're missing, and it may take another person to show you what you may otherwise miss. 
• Go with someone as excited as you are to see it, who won't be embarrassed by your "Squee" moments. 

Getting to Know a City

The first time I went to Austin, Texas, back in 1996, I knew almost immediately that I wanted to live there: I drove in on a US Highway, and my first sight of the city was green -- greenery everywhere. I stayed with someone who rented one side of a duplex in a tree-covered neighborhood practically downtown, and her side of the duplex had a massive back yard. I had a Mexican Martini at the ever-moving Cedar Door, sitting on a patio and over-looking "Lake Austin" (actually the Colorado River). I had some of the best green bean casserole ever at a restaurant called Good Eats on Barton Springs Rd. And I went to see and hear the legendary Don Walser on Sixth Street. It was May, and the weather was mild. How could I not want to live there? Five months later, it became my home for the next four years.

The first time Stefan went to Austin, it was June 2008, and hotter than Hades. His first views of the city were massive Los Angeles-style freeway overpasses, cars and concrete everywhere, and strip malls with the same stores you see in every city in the USA. Don Walser was dead. The Good Eats I loved so much was long-closed. The Cedar Door had moved yet again. Most of the clubs I frequented a decade before were parking lots or something equally ugly. There was a magical night at Ginny's Little Longhorn seeing Roger Wallace and Jim Stringer, some very good food, and some fantastic hospitality from dear friends, but he did not like Austin at all -- and neither did I anymore.

Would it have been possible to visit the city at a different time of year, and coordinate a series of initial experiences, that would have made Stefan love Austin, and have made me fall in love with it all over again? Did Austin change, or did a combination of unfortunate experiences turn us off?

We'll never know.

We had a rather magical experience living in Louisville, Kentucky for most of this summer. Our temporary home was in the Highlands, a historic, lushly-green neighborhood of gorgeous old, lovingly-restored houses and very friendly people, where independent restaurants, bars, funky shops and practical shops are just a short walk away. Our next door neighbors included a dear friend from my university days whose wife liked to bring us homemade whatever. It was our introduction to Louisville and, therefore, we loved Louisville pretty much immediately. But if our intro to Louisville had been one of the horrifically ugly apartments out on Hurstbourne Parkway, a massive four-six-lane street of car lots and strip malls, or an inner-city neighborhood with trash and unkept houses and yards everywhere, we would have hated Louisville.

As mentioned in my last entry, our introduction to Portland, Oregon hasn't been a good one. The lush, green, cool-weather city we were expecting has been burnt to a crisp by a recent heat wave (which, unfortunately, returns tomorrow), and everything that might have been green once is now brown and dead. We managed to drive down every wrong street there is in Portland, seeing the ugliest, most trash-ridden neighborhoods the city has to offer. I've seen as much furniture in front yards as I've seen in some of the more unsavory parts of Kentucky, my home state.

We've written our initial impressions of Portland off to bad timing and bad luck. Everyone gushes about Portland. Everyone says they love it here. We're keeping the faith that we'll be gushing about it eventually too. We loved the Lucky Labrador Brew Pub and the Mississippi Station restaurant for lunch (Albi especially loved both). So far, as far as neighborhoods, we've loved the Hawthorne district, the immediate neighborhood around the Peninsula Park Rose Garden, Irving Park, Rose City and Hollywood -- in other words, the most expensive neighborhoods Portland has to offer outside of downtown.

We're now evaluating all the communities in the area that involve volunteer firefighters. We've visited small towns surrounding Portland, Salem and Eugene. What are we looking for in these communities? Pretty, well-kept, well-built houses. A downtown, however tiny, that has some personality (or at least a pub). Neighborhoods that would be nice to walk, park and live in. Unfortunately, it means we may have to give up on the idea of being a one-car family. There's a strong possibility that we will end up far from any light rail stop, and too far to commute via a scooter.

Finding the downtown of a small town is a funny thing -- you can't ask someone where downtown is, because they will send you to the ugly strip mall full of all the same shops you find anywhere. Instead, we just type in "100 Main Street" or "100 First Street" into Stefan's GPS for whatever town we want to check out. Works every time!

We've been ready to stop moving, stop living out of suitcases, and start unpacking for months now. But it looks like we'll be in transit for at least some more weeks to come. Send us rental OR job karma -- both will be graciously accepted.

Arrival in Portland

I've been asked repeatedly: why did we choose Louisville, Kentucky as the first place to live in the USA upon my return from Germany, and why didn't we stay there?

I moved to Germany in 2001 from Austin, Texas, and while I love that city oh-so-much, I did not want to move back: it's too hot for too many months, it's much too congested with cars, and too many beloved music clubs are long gone. It will always be special -- but it's no longer home.

When Stefan and I decided to move back to the USA, I knew that the first thing we had to find was some place to land -- literally. Where would the plane land, and then what would happen? Would we walk off the plane and into a hotel? How would we get from the airport to the hotel? And then what?

In thinking about these questions, I chose Louisville, Kentucky as the place we would stay initially in the USA, for several reasons

• The Cincinnati-Northern Kentucky Airport is less than two hours from Louisville, and there is a direct flight from Frankfurt, Germany to that airport. I did not want Albi to be transferred at any point during the flight, as this is how dogs get lost.


• A friend from college wrote to say that there was a short-term rental available right next door to him in the Highlands, the legendary neighborhood of Louisville. Having a place to stay immediately upon getting off the plane was a huge draw.


• I have a lot of friends from many years ago in Louisville, and I hoped this would be a good chance to reconnect with them and have an immediate social network.


• I have a brother and sister-in-law in Louisville, and the rest of my immediate family is less than two hours away in Henderson; I was ready to play the family card if needed for transportation and other help, and the family said they were ready to help (and they were).


• I have really liked Louisville when visiting it over the years. I thought it would be interesting to really get to know it.

Louisville turned out to be wonderful. It was everything I wanted to be and more. The Highlands is surrounded by terrific restaurants and services within walking distance, and is surprisingly dog-friendly. It's also a neighborhood -- as are several of the surrounding neighborhoods -- where lots of people walk and bike-ride to get from point A to point B. Public transit is surprisingly good for downtown (but until there are at least three buses an hour, it will never be as successful as it could be). The houses are lovely, and people are incredibly friendly, greeting you as you pass. There are tons of things to do in Louisville: eat, go watch the minor league baseball team, eat, visit the various sites in and around town, eat, go to a concert, and eat. There are LOTS of arts events, music events and farmer's markets. You can drive just a little ways and be out of town on country roads and passing beautiful farms. And it was wonderful spending so much time with long-lost friends and new friends (Todd and Julie, you two are unbelievably wonderful), as well as my beloved grandparents. Our pictures from our time in Louisville say it all.

So, why not stay?!?!

A lot of reasons. Mostly because of the weather. My husband and I are wimps when it comes to intense, humid heat. We can vacation in such conditions, but not live in them. And as we are ATGATT adherents, that means there would be several weeks every summer we couldn't ride. It was very tempting to stay in Louisville, but for this and other reasons, we decided it would be best to try elsewhere.

We thought somewhere in the Northern USA might suit us better. And everything we've read online over the last three years has pointed to one place: Portland, Oregon. Because of the weather, the rankings in terms of walking and bicycling and micro-brewing, the likelihood of getting jobs, the political climate, and on and on.

We left Louisville on July 27 and, after 11 days of camping and seeing various sites along the way, ended up in Portland.

It was not a good arrival. We spent the first three days wondering if we'd just made the biggest mistakes of our lives.

Portland is a city that doesn't give up its merits obviously or quickly to outsiders. Those green, walkable, bike-friendly, funky neighborhoods with adorable houses you hear oh-so-much about are here, but they aren't easy to find amid some very trash-strewn, unattractive neighborhoods with streets-packed-with-cars and where houses look like run-down double wide trailers (Stefan's observation, and I agree). We initially stayed at a hotel in Gresham, because that's where I got the best deal, and that was a huge mistake; the hotel was fine, but the neighborhood was horrific. Sorry to all you Gresham-ites, but your city needs a huge attitude adjustment. After two days of walking Albi around the neighborhood and being terrified of her stepping on a hypodermic needle, I was ready to head back to Louisville.

After two days of not liking anything we'd seen of Portland, we drove to a dog park in Hillsboro that was highly rated on portlandpooch.com, and after not being able to find a real downtown amid all the shopping centers, we gave up and drove down to Salem. As soon as we got out of metropolitan Portland area, our spirits rose. And in Salem, we were enchanted. We had great food from a terrific little diner called The Sassy Onion and walked the beautiful grounds of the state government and Williamette University. At last, we saw the charm of Oregon and were glad we came.

So, we decided we would find a month-to-month rental and take 30 days, even 60, to visit Eugene, and then to find a small town outside of Portland or Salem or Eugene to live in long-term. After wading through endless numbers of scams and misleading ads on Craigslist (it's almost useless because of such), a friend found a great deal at an ExtendedStay in Hillsboro. And that's where we'll be, through at least early September.

And since we've moved here, we've found the neighborhoods and charm that have made Portland famous. Stefan has, at long last, found a German bakery that makes decent bread (something he never did find in Louisville). We visited a motorcycle shop and were floored when the salesmen told us that dual-sport motorcycles were his best-selling bikes (certainly not the case in Louisville). And Stefan applied for his first job in the USA! (but understands the likelihood of him getting even an interview for the very first job he applies for is... not great).

We've eaten at a dog-friendly restaurant almost every day (that's pretty much any restaurant that has an outdoor place to eat that can be reached from outside, without walking through the inside of the restaurant), and been to a few different dog parks (there are oh-so-many here), leaving Albi oh-so-content (though, as we've discovered, she's happiest camping).

Make no mistake: Portland is a BIG city -- there's no small town feeling about it. But once you know where to look, there's lots of great places to see, and maybe even to live.

So, our goal now is to find a small town with a volunteer fire department, where we would love to rent a place for a year and from which we can easily commute for whatever jobs we land.

Email me if you need a mailing address in Portland for us; we won't officially move here, however, until some time in September or October. Or just email me to give me some words of encouragement -- or job leads (even better!).

And so a new chapter begins...