Keep on Rockin' In the Free World
A few months ago, I sat in an air conditioned dive bar on Powell Boulevard.. It was 111 degrees outside. Across the street from the joint stood a homeless encampment of some 30 domiciles, some of them beyond description in their peculiarity, squalor and ingenuity. Two shirtless men barbecued something outside one of the domiciles. Another man appeared crucified in a chaise lounge. It was quite likely that someone in this encampment (and every encampment in the region) would die during the record heat wave. No one might even notice until a certain smell arose.
For the past few months I have driven by this encampment weekly on my way to volunteer at a faith based food pantry. It is often difficult to keep my eyes on the road and not the encampments along certain stretches of this thoroughfare. The blight here is staggering to behold. It seems to be getting worse every week. It seems almost imaginable that nothing substantial has been done to alleviate the mess. Every time a thinking citizen drives by and sees this scene, he or she loses confidence in governing. And we need governing to address this crisis.
I wish I was in this game of governing on this issue. Writing about it often seems so trivial or futile, or at least the way I am writing about it.
It was my first time visiting this joint. I dug the décor: picture of Papa Hemingway from the decade he blew his his head off with an elephant gun; an order of Elks banner; vintage PNW beer neons and merchandising displays; an electronic bingo board; a taxidermied head of a deer; black and white photographs of a certain buxom Miss Oregon.
I could have sat at the window to drink my craft malt liquor ale, but if I did, I'd peek through the blinds and spy on the movements of the homeless encampment. So I sat in a booth with ripped velvet upholstery where I couldn't see anything of the streets.
That about sums up what some people want for a pubic policy on this issue.
Music played on the PA. It was a classic soul song that I'd never heard before and I've heard a lot of classic soul in my life. The singer, who sounded a lot like Lou Rawls, was singing about the ghetto, getting the government and the people, everyone, to clean up the ghetto, make the streets safe to walk, make the city a great place to live.
I considered the song. Change a few of the lyrics and it could serve as an anthem about the encampment across the street. I wonder if contemporary songwriters are writing songs about the homeless issue. Neil Young did once, with “Rockin in the Free World.” Maybe there wasn't any need to write another after that anthem because Neil's song was so incredible and timeless you don't need another one.
We got a thousand points of light
For the homeless man
We got a kinder, gentler machine gun hand
The soul song ended. I thought about Googling it. I didn't.
Blondie's “Rapture” came on. I hadn't heard in years and had forgotten the lyrics. I drank my beer and listened.
Rapture, be pure
Take a tour through the sewer
Don't strain your brain, paint a train
You'll be singin' in the rain
Said don't stop to punk rock
I've always loved Blondie but was indifferent to this particular song. Not anymore. It reads like 2021. Listen to it.
I took a few notes. Another story centered around some aspect of the homeless issue was forming in my mind. It wasn't heading toward journalism. It was something else.