Bed of Roses

Elmer and I cruised I-5 toward the Southern Oregon Coast on a sunny Saturday morning. The socialist jazz station broadcast its weekly bossa nova show and it sounded fantastic. I was on a road trip with my maniacal husky to my favorite beaches in the state and the world seemed right, at least for the moment.

Traffic was light. Somewhere toward the middle of I-5 through Salem, I noticed tents pitched in the grassy areas sloping down to the freeway. Nothing new. I'd seen the same sight on I-205, I-405, I-84 and US 26. I also saw blooming roses by the dozens in the same grassy areas. Again, nothing new.

Then I saw an extra large blue tarp draped over a clump of at least a dozen blooming red and white roses.

Red and white (roses) stars on a blue (tarp) field. A new kind of flag for the New American Diaspora.

After seeing this, I will never think the same about the phrase, “Life is no bed of roses” because I saw someone living in a bed of roses.