This blog of mine is growing in popularity, especially when it comes to stories about my partner in life, Alice McCormick, and her recovery from a full-blown stroke.  Almost four years ago when we committed ourselves to one another, I wrote the following story for the local weekly newspaper in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.  Here ’tis.

Doylestown is propitiously small with rustic, cosmopolitan sensibilities, a hundred miles from Manhattan. It’s a good spot to hang out and be entertained, without committing to a night-filled itinerary of revelry.

I had adopted Andre’s, a European-style wine-and-cheese bar, inside downtown’s Marketplace, as my infrequent hangout.  On one late September evening in 2010, I felt particularly righteous in my own skin, flaunting the suit-adorned personage of a chauffeur. An outlandishly attractive blonde and brunette in their early 20s had dropped by to enjoy Andre’s ambience. Before I knew it, I found myself regaling two unsuspecting honeys with every syllable spewing from my busy mouth.

As I wondered where to lead this self-important conversation, a soft arm wrapped across my left shoulder from behind me, and a confident woman’s voice in my right ear meowed, “Oh here you are; I’ve been looking all over for you.”

(As Alice tells the story, she says seeing me well manicured for the first time in a business suit caused her to think, “Doctor, lawyer, he probably has money.”  Little did she know I was an itinerant writer moonlighting as a limousine driver.)

I didn’t know this woman, but here she was interjecting herself into my ramshackle life!  Unbelievable.

That’s how I met Alice McCormick, the woman who keeps harping on me to keep my head erect.  (I have to hold my head high to gaze into the expressive eyebrows of this brown-haired Amazon, measuring 6’3″.  After all, back in the 1960s, she was a regular dancer on “American Bandstand” in Philadelphia.)

Within a short time after meeting her, I discovered it’s possible to re-experience life while looking through two different pairs of eyes. A desirable creature with a good heart possessing North Philly toughness equals a damned good woman.  All my life, I’ve championed women’s rights.  Now, I found an emancipated giant of a woman.  Or rather she found me.  What am I going to do?  Rain on her parade?  I think I love her.

Put-up or shut-up time.

I asked Alice what kind of ceremony we should have. We’re beyond child-bearing stage, we’ve outlived or outgrown former loves of our lives, and we’re imbued with Bucks County consciousness.

Before I knew it, Alice grabbed a book from my bookcase and showed me the cover. “Let’s use this,” she said.

As I looked down at the book, I appreciated her challenge.  The book’s title was: The Complete Guide to Gay and Lesbian Weddings.  Its prominent New Hope, PA author: Keith David, first openly gay member of the American Bridal Assn. who catered gay and lesbian weddings at his Mansion Inn in New Hope, and in 1998 founded GayWeddings.com.

I publicly champion the cause of same-sex couples to marry and enjoy all the accoutrements of opposite-sex couples. Now Alice has challenged me to question how I would exhibit further support. Would I go so far as to incorporate their cause into my own personal ceremony? And, addressing an inner fear, what would other people think because Alice and I used a gay-friendly guide?

I remember the challenges posed whenever I chose to keep a friend who openly came out.  I remember the inner-fear insinuations slicing my ego by those who choose to overtly reject associations with gay and lesbian singles. Why is it every time a heterosexual chooses to befriend someone gay, crude intolerance invades our subconscious world? Why do such decisions become more weighty?

We agreed to make our personal statement.  The embrace inherent in our nuptials would exceed mere tolerance.  During the weeks preceding our 2011 ceremony, we used Keith’s guide and found it sobering, and eventually rewarding.

The following chapters were “very helpful,” according to Alice: “Legal Planning,” “Your Budget,” “Dealing with Stress,” “Creating Your Wedding Style” and “Writing Vows.”

Two unique friends agreed to conduct our ceremony: David DiPasquale, interfaith minister at Pebble Hill Church, and Danawa Buchanan, former president of the Native American Alliance of Bucks County and now tribal leader for the Allegheny Cherokee people.

The Sept. 24 ceremony was held outdoors in the gleaming warm twilight on the stone patio between a large gazebo and its companion swimming pool.  Danawa cautioned the 30 friends in attendance they were committed henceforth to furthering our relationship and ended the ceremony with an Apache prayer:

“Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other.

“Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you.

“May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion, and your days together be good and long upon the earth.”

I should have seen it coming.  After all, Alice waited only one month before showing enough confidence to go driving alone – without my permission, if you please – after a full-blown stroke on March 11th.

Sure, I was worried, so I wrote about it.  The responses I received from some of you, though, praised her willingness to assert a free spirit.  Others were more guarded and even identified with my fear.

Nevertheless, it’s easy to underestimate Alice’s abilities because of her speech aphasia.  I think my late Grandma Johnston – even my mother – would have been fond of Alice’s “gumption.”  So being outvoted by the ghosts of family mentors, especially since Alice would not surrender her keys to the Ford Escape, I went into an author’s solo tantrum.

Two weeks later, when Alice drove off again to get her hair done, I gritted my teeth and withstood it, looking at my watch only 50 times (or was it 100?).

I was uneasy, oh yeah.  But I already admitted on this website that I have a controlling nature, so I did not make a big deal about the second drive.  Alice’s speech aphasia is improving bit by bit, although at times when she gets hung up on the same word over and over, it’s tempting to assume her frustration is directed at me.  That’s when I get depressed and insecure.

So on Friday, May 8th, two days before Mother’s Day, Alice drove off again to buy herself a pair of sneakers, and I tried to find other pursuits to keep from worrying – and consequently avoid getting Alice pissed again.

Well, after Alice bought a nifty pair of sneakers, she hopped into ol’ Betsy again, not telling me where she was going.  I began pacing our apartment from one room to another, wearing a path in the carpet.  I kept the cellphone in my shirt pocket, preparing for the worst, until Alice showed up an hour later.

She sauntered in with a smug expression.  I tried to appear matter-of-fact, until Alice said, “Well, I start work on Monday.”

“What?!!!” I exclaimed.  “How do you know that?”

Alice explained that on the spur of the moment, she drove over to KinderCare’s location – half a mile from our apartment – where she worked before her stroke.  For the last two weeks, I had been whining about our dwindling resources, but wasn’t this an overreaction?

Not really.  Being cooped up in this apartment with me can get to be a little rich, so she sought relief.  And when I think about it, Alice speaks as well – better, actually – than the toddlers and infants for whom she cares, and her love for those kids plus their love of her culminated in this good news.

I guess we can call it lovingly a stroke of good luck, as the photo above shows.  Alice reluctantly waved, “Bye bye,” for the camera on the first day she again found refuge with like-minded caretakers.  As I write this, she’s back minding kids and toddlers – in close proximity of fellow employees.

Alice is nothing short of amazing.  How could she possibly top this?

Oh, never mind.  I’m flabbergasted enough.

Portland has a mayor who responds to the wishes of his voters.  (Many politicians say one thing to voters, but do another when it comes down to brass tacks.)

The picture above says a thousand words.  Charlie Hales looks absolutely giddy in the 53rd annual St. Johns parade on Saturday, May 9th, after reversing an earlier stand encouraging Pembina Pipeline Corporation to construct a propane export terminal in the Port of Portland.

Alice McCormick’s sensational photograph resulted after cousin Margaret Johnston led Alice and me to the perfect spot (next to the official reviewing stand) where the tall woman in my life whipped out her trusty camera and snapped away.

The result is worthy of a Norman Rockwell rendering.

The St. Johns Parade has been a tradition in the North Portland area since 1962.  Many families have their favorite viewing spots to watch the floats, bands, drill teams and horses.  Parade participants from earlier years now cheer on their children and grandchildren as they march or ride the parade route.

As you can see, Alice unabashedly holds her own whenever a challenge presents itself.

In a previous post, I bemoaned Portlanders’ lack of culinary sensibilities regarding pizza.  Many pizza joints on the West side in Hillsboro and nearby Beaverton are franchised operations with familiarly awful brand names, using prepared dough with questionable ingredients.  And when Alice and I explored Portland’s City Center, we ran across pizza places with a mishmash of toppings to hide shortcomings.

Imagine our delight then, once we stumbled across Mad Dog Pizza on Main Avenue in Tillamook – two hours away – concluding this was pizza we could savor.

Yet where did Portland fit in?, we wondered.  Locally published magazines tout eateries with a multitude of palate-pleasing delights.  Is the appetizing copy totally promotional advertising?

We remained disheartened, until a good friend – actually, a godsend – kept nagging us to explore the “Rose City’s” Northwest 23rd Avenue, merely one block north of Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital.

What a find in Portland’s alphabet district between Hoyt and Irving!  Two adjoining Big Apple-inspired eateries – Escape From New York Pizza and Kornblatt’s Delicatessen – totally upgraded our downtrodden taste buds.  Normally, restaurant promotional verbiage is hyperbole on glossy menus, but Escape From New York’s copy printed atop its pizza boxes is spot-on.

“Our pizza is Portland’s finest,” pizza-maker David Ellis agrees.  “Our cheese is whole milk mozzarella.  That’s it.  No substitutions!

“Our sauce is a unique recipe prepared each day from whole tomatoes, fresh garlic, select herbs and spices.  Our dough is handmade every morning seven days a week.  Our toppings are fresh and bountiful.  Our promise is to make everything fresh.  We won’t skimp on ingredients.”

Palates belonging to Alice and me heartily concur.  Then Kornblatt’s Delicatessen caught our eye.  Its takeout menu promises, “We offer the finest traditional delicatessen-style food west of the Hudson.”  Well, why not give it a try?

Omigod, I can’t argue with their assessment, considering that – oy gevalt – honest-to-goodness kosher grub doesn’t exist out here.

Well, not quite true!  Maybe it’s not blessed by a rabbi, but an unexpected oasis exists inside Kornblatt’s, which the New York Times headlined “The Best in the [North] West.”  Proprietor Josh Kornblatt calls his cuisine “the equivalent of Jewish soul food.” Authentic latkes, kippered salmon, whitefish salad flown in fresh from New York, homemade bagels, matzo ball soup, cheese blintzes and more, served over 12 hours each and every day – all at prices cheaper than in Manhattan.  Plus you can order by phone and/or take home, too.

Yes, our sensibilities were super-satisfied, yet we had one more 23rd Avenue discovery to make down a short flight of steps north of Marshall Street.  If East Coast tastes were relevant to Manhattan, was it too much to expect a place called Grant’s Philly CheeseSteak to satiate a Philly appetite?

We needed to find out.  As the sight of a medical marijuana dispensary caused our dreams to expand further in this alphabet neighborhood, we ambled into Grant’s.  And what a cheesesteak.  Patrons of Philly’s Geno’s and Pat’s will appreciate what we found.

Alice took half of hers home, but I consumed the whole doggoned thing, including the homemade potato chips.  From the grill, Grant’s Philly CheeseSteak concoction consists of thinly slicing up a half pound of chopped sirloin steak, cooking it on the grill, adding a combination of sweet and hot peppers plus provolone cheese, and inserting the piping-hot result inside an amoroso roll.  For good measure, I requested marinara sauce, which was grilled  within.

Delicious!  But take note Kraft’s popular Cheez Whiz is available as a cheese option, although I never cared much for it.  Nevertheless, I know some Philadelphians who would jump at the chance.

Diane and Grant Schuler own the establishment that is closed on Saturdays, due to their 7th Day Adventist faith.  So never plan on a Saturday cheesesteak.  It helps to know Diane’s mother had hailed from Johnstown, Pa., which is why the offspring can serve up a faithful rendering of a Philly cheesesteak.

All in all, after our 23rd Avenue exploration, I take pleasure in eating my words about viable options for good New York/Philly pizza, especially knowing a great Jewish-style deli and Philly cheesesteaks help East Coasters learn the West is the best.  Little wonder parking spaces are few and far between.

But take heart: On crowded afternoons, the Portland Streetcar can drop you into this slice of heaven.

Just make sure to bring your appetite.

Portland Mayor Charlie Hales has reversed his earlier stand encouraging Pembina Pipeline Corporation to construct a propane export terminal in the heart of the city.  Speaking before the Port of Portland, he announced the abrupt change, reportedly how an endorsement could affect his reelection campaign next year.

Hales’ announcement comes just prior to President Barack Obama’s visit to Portland for a fund-raiser later today.  Here are links to coverage by Oregon Public Broadcasting,  as well as Willamette Week.

We are elated to see that Mayor Hales has felt heat from voters and put the throttle of his captain’s position in full reverse.  And the skepticism I expressed if the plan were put forward will not see fruition.

For the time being, the pipeline plan is scheduled to be considered by the city council on June 10.

To show our appreciation for their hard work in putting this issue before Portland votes, here is a press release issued jointly by the Climate Action Coalition and Portland Rising Tide, prime movers in political environmental activism here:

The thin, green line blocking fossil fuel exports got a little bit thicker today after Mayor Charlie Hales reversed his position on a large propane export project proposed for the Port of Portland Terminal 6.  Mayor Hales had previously supported the project but changed his mind after widespread community opposition threatened to turn the terminal into a major issue in his upcoming reelection campaign.

At present, the June 10th public hearing still stands and the four remaining Portland city commissioners have not spoken publicly about their positions on the project.  Days earlier, Seattle Mayor Ed Murray declared opposition to Shell’s arctic drilling rig and denied a permit for the rig to dock at the Port of Seattle after community activists threatened to blockade it with a flotilla of kayaks.

This is good news to climate activists and community members demanding that we heed scientists’ warnings and leave fossil fuels in the ground.  “This is a step in the right direction. Now we need to take a few more steps and ban all fossil fuel exports so we can get closer to climate stabilization in my lifetime!” said Lucinda Drake, 14, of Sunnyside Environmental School who testified at the Planning and Sustainability Commission’s hearing about the Pembina Propane Terminal in May along with several of her classmates.

Noah Brown, 13, added, “I appreciate the Mayor changing his decision on the propane terminal. It is affecting the youth’s future and it means a lot to me that he would listen to us about these issues.  In the future, for all the youth, we need to move toward a fossil fuel free state.”

The Climate Action Coalition, a coalition of grassroots groups that has been organizing community opposition to the project since early fall, and its member groups are calling on Mayor Hales, the Portland City Council, and the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability to prohibit all new fossil fuel infrastructure in Portland and Multnomah County, and to work with leaders throughout the Pacific Northwest to take strong action on climate change.

Opposing Pembina is just the start. The Climate Action Coalition is calling on leaders in Portland to oppose all fossil fuel terminals, including those already in operation. Earlier today, individuals associated with member group Portland Rising Tide, along with Laborers International Union of North America member Tim Norgren, blockaded and oil train route to Arc Logistics in NW Portland in order to show opposition all fossil fuel export projects in the Pacific Northwest, and the Trans-Pacific Partnership, which would threaten worker and environmental standards throughout the Pacific Rim.

The Climate Action Coalition will keep putting pressure on the Port of Portland to withdraw their support for Pembina’s proposed propane export terminal.

Alice is bored, feeling trapped by her speech predicament.  On Wednesday, April 29th, she once again asserted her penchant for free will by driving off to window-shop at a strip mall loaded with box stores, but this is not what her heart ultimately desires.

My partner wants to go back to work.  Her alpha-female mind is as sharp as ever, having used my communication skills to fend off well-meaning family members who want to dote on her.  Unwittingly, their concern would have complicated Alice’s ambitious plans for recovery, and this lady stands for no interference.  As just one example, she abhors my nagging reminders to take her medication.

Medical bills are piling up for the professional care received, so both of us realize it’s time to pay the piper.  Although Alice doesn’t want me to work outside our abode so I can focus on writing a book and this blog (in addition to looking after her), it’s time to face hard choices.  We are heading for perilous times unless we take action.

Two nights ago, Alice consented to have me find work.  Preferably, I can find freelance writing assignments and telecommute.  But if not, I might have to leave Alice alone for stretches of time so I can drive for Uber, or a similar car service, because “beggars can’t be choosers.”

Summarizing our plight for anyone new to this blog, on Wednesday, March 11th, my partner endured a stroke at home while I attended a writers’ conference.  That night, our plans for the future suffered a big hit, and we are making the best of it.

Alice continues her agonizingly slow – but sure – recovery.  Two nights ago in bed after I prompted her to count to 10, she counted aloud into the mid-30s, proving her stubbornness.  At other times, though, she becomes stuck on a word, and that word keeps repeating itself over and over again as if it had a life of its own.  When that happens, she must stop speaking temporarily and take a deep breath.

An amusing example occurred the other night.  Alice tried to utter a name, but what came out was “Dr. F*ck.”  She tried to communicate her thought again, but the same professional title followed by a four-letter expletive came out.  Feigning naiveté, I questioned the accuracy of what she said, and we both laughed.  After all, speech aphasia is not characterized by a nervous tic.

But humor only goes so far.  Alice will not subject an employer to the hint of a speech impediment.  She always has fulfilled work duties professionally, even to the point of working through lunch breaks multiple times.

To reemerge into the diaper-changing world of infant care, she confronts her computer screen daily with websites offering aphasia exercises.  Alice wants me to stay home; she is consumed about my taking unnecessary risks.

That’s commendable, but these days, regardless of our senior status, we have little choice.  We have overcome serious hurdles to relocate in Oregon, including seeing our possessions held hostage, so we must bravely meet the challenges of our future together.

For the time being, I will continue to keep this blog going, reporting on the charms of our adopted environment.  Both of us agree we shall not surrender to aphasia.  There are too many well-wishers urging us to keep plowing ahead.

Once again, we say to ourselves, “Onward and upward!”

Here is an update on Pembina Pipeline Corporation’s controversial proposal to build a propane terminal on land zoned for conservation across from West Hayden Island in North Portland.

Portland’s City Council will not vote on the proposal tomorrow, April 30th.  Instead, councilors have scheduled a public hearing for Wednesday, June 10th.  Short of vocal widespread opposition, the Council plans to turn its back on Portland’s pristine land-use guarantee for the property, thereby establishing Portland’s Terminal 6.

The proposal calls for 1½-mile-long trains to deliver an average of 1.6 million gallons a day where the highly volatile fracking-derived fuel from Alberta’s tar sands would be stored in refrigerated tanks holding a capacity of 34 million gallons.  Huge tankers would then transport massive amounts of the propane down the Columbia River into the Pacific Ocean and on to Asia.

Let’s make something crystal clear: None of this propane is designated to go into gas tanks of cars, trucks or buses in America.  The propane is for export only, designated for plastics manufactured in Asia.  Ostensibly, these are the same plastics found in consumer-handy containers eventually dumped in landfills.  If this area’s reputation is now green, hypocrisy will become Portland’s newfound legacy.

In my previous post, I gave the impression that Multnomah Friends (Quakers) opposes the zoning change.  It is true that members of the Peace & Social Concerns Committee unequivocably oppose it, but Meeting Clerk Andy Cross cautions, “The question of the propane terminal has not come before the Meeting for Worship for Business.”

He adds, “Often, for issues that are short-term and need rapid response, it does not make sense to season the concern through the Meeting.  It can be a time-consuming process that often does not make a big difference on short-term issues.”

Now that a public hearing will occur June 10th, it’s possible that Quakers will take a position.  Certainly, an unchallenged announcement asking attendees to lobby City Councilors immediately after their Meeting for Worship suggested a position was taken already.  A clarification will appear if and when one is offered.

Finally, here is my own opinion.  It’s hard to believe such an environmentally unfriendly proposal could be proffered by Portland’s Mayor Charlie Hales unless the wheels of passage were already greased.  In an earlier post headlined, “A Plan to Nationalize Oregon’s Waterways,” I warned this plan will limit residents’ use of its most visible natural resource.  After all, with concerns about terrorists worldwide, how could Homeland Security allow pleasure craft to navigate the Columbia River unregulated?

I don’t believe Pembina’s proposal would have been bandied about as some sort of trial balloon.  Such an idea must have the backing of our State Department with some sort of shaking of hands between the U.S. and China.

Some kind of tarnish to Portland’s environmental record must be regarded in Washington as a casualty of economic growth.  Climate change be damned; the exploitation of fossil fuels is continuing.  Nothing can stop this pipeline proposal, short of a minor miracle, from going forward.

Why the millennial generation is not swarming about in sheer opposition to further befouling our environment makes me want to throw up my hands and shout, “Hands up, don’t shoot!”  But then again, maybe we’ve become too cynical to care any longer.

Yes, Virginia, there are real Quakers in Portland.

After I chronicled a strange admonition from the Unitarian Universalist Community Church of Washington County (UUCCWC) minister about wearing jeans to its place of worship, goodwill toward this photojournalist flew out the window.  At a subsequent rehearsal, the church’s choir director chimed in that she didn’t believe my account was true, which I interpreted as a challenge to my penchant for accuracy or, worse yet, journalistic ethics.

So the day after Alice endured her stroke, I deemed it opportune to end my participation in UUCCWC.  I could not abide being increasingly disparaged for frankness and truthfulness, so I used the timing of my wife’s ailment and recovery to split and “git.”

One comment on my criticism of UU’s Rev. Christine Riley was offered by a prominent Buckingham Quaker who wondered why I had not sought out the Quakers.  At first glance, I had thought an evangelical church in Hillsboro was my only alternative.  But I used the month of March to do further research, which revealed a possible bona fide Quaker meeting – the Multnomah Friends Meeting – in southeast Portland on Stark Street.

Man, oh man, am I glad I did.  At last Sunday’s meeting for worship, April 19th, attended by more than 60 friends, I was treated like a long-lost son. The reception I received and the extended hands of friendship were unreal!  But was it an illusion?  I had to bring Alice, and get her usual candid opinion.

Surprisingly, my life partner was receptive to accompany me this morning, 4/26.  There is no singing of hymns like in Buckingham, Pa., but 60 friends were in attendance.  (Meetings for worship are so popular that another Sunday meeting is held earlier.)  Alice’s opinion now appears to be as embraceable as mine.  And guess what Portland Quakers are up to?  Lobbying the Portland City Council to vote against the proposed propane terminal, that’s what!

I was inspired to stand and speak today, because the EXIT signs to be used in case of emergency there are not red like other public places. They are green! After all, does it make sense to GO toward a sign colored red? That’s not natural! Multnomah Friends exhibit their zeal for simplicity.

I’m sure there will be more to chronicle eventually about Multnomah Friends, but I couldn’t help ending this post without reciting verbatim their call for civic action. Here ’tis:

CALL THE CITY COUNCIL TO SAY ‘NO’ TO PEMBINA

“Portland’s Planning and Sustainability Commission has recommended a zoning change to accommodate a new fossil fuel terminal on the Columbia [River]. This is one of dozens of projects that want to push oil, coal and gas exports through our region.

“It’s our local piece of the fight to keep fossil fuels in the ground worldwide.  Ten Multnomah Friends turned out for hearings on the Pembina propane terminal, and now we need your help with the next step:  Please call City Councilors ASAP, say you are a person of faith and ask them to say ‘no’ to Pembina.

“Nick Fish (503-823-3589) and Steve Novick (503-823-4682) are moderate /undecided council members who most need to hear from us.”

The Quakers’ call for action is an opportunity for real-world citizens to express themselves responsibly and fulfill their civic duty. If you agree with Multnomah Quakers’ point of view and want to participate, click this link for background and talking points.

This is better than just standing around and bitching, right?

As regular visitors to this website know, Pembina Pipeline Corporation, with roots in the tar sands of Alberta, Canada, currently has a proposal being actively considered to construct a propane terminal in the heart of Portland, Oregon, currently reputed to be one of the greenest cities in the U.S.

Propane is manufactured primarily through fracking.  Yesterday, it was announced that the injection of waste water underground, a prime ingredient of the fracking process, earned Oklahoma the dubious distinction of being the most earthquake-prone state in all the United States, ahead of California.

Portland mayor Charlie Hales is actively endorsing Pembina’s plan, which passed muster by the region’s Planning & Sustainability Commission on March 17th.  The next hurdle for Pembina is a resolution scheduled for consideration before Portland’s City Commission on April 30th.

In recognition of Earth Day 2015, which was nationally observed on Wednesday, we’ve decided to carry verbatim the following press release that was disseminated by Portland Rising Tide on April 15th:

Portland is continually winning awards for environmental stewardship and has been recognized by President Obama on climate action, yet our city has become a central hub for a fossil fuel industry that threatens our city with the label of “climate hypocrite.” Here in Portland we have dozens of companies who are heavily involved in coal mining, fracking, and tar sands as a main source of profits.

These companies frequently donate to City Council, including Steve Novick who has accepted money from Greenbrier/Gunderson, one of the largest constructors of oil railcars and coal barges in the US, and in turn advocated for coal exports to China.  Dan Saltzman and Charlie Hales have also accepted tens of thousands from the fossil fuel industry, on top of working for CH2M Hill and HDR Inc, respectively.  Both companies have an extensive portfolio of fossil fuel projects – including pipelines, refineries, and export terminals –and this City Council has a history of giving both companies contracts for municipal projects.

With the recent approval of a zoning amendment by the Planning & Sustainability Commission, Portland Rising Tide encourages City Hall to reject the Pembina propane terminal when it comes to a vote before City Council.  We need to be scaling back our fossil fuel infrastructure immediately, not promoting more catastrophic climate change from propane shipped by explosive 1.5 mile trains through Portland every other day.  This zoning code amendment would also open the floodgates for more dangerous and climate change-causing fossil fuel terminals, often with little to no public process.

This project and all other fossil fuel companies play a large role in environmental injustice that disproportionately affects poor communities and communities of color who live in the blast zones and polluted neighborhoods, as well as indigenous communities near the source of fracking and tar sands where the propane is sourced.  “Growing up in poverty, you kind of get first-hand knowledge of the effects of environmental harms. We all share stories of bad fish, building materials, lead, and air quality.  Blacks are often aware that these things are making us sick, though we don’t always have access to the tools needed to protect our communities from policy that allow these pollutants,” says Teressa Raidford, lead organizer of Don’t Shoot PDX.  Environmental injustice only adds to the issues of an unlivable minimum wage, gentrification, and police violence that affects communities of color in Portland.

This project is also an injustice to future generations and violates the City’s trustee duties to protect our climate, air, and water for future generations.  Adrielle Fuller, a 23-year old single mother in Cully, says, “My five-year-old daughter and I can hear the trains from our house.  It’s a constant reminder that her future isn’t safe until the trains stop.”

City council is tentatively voting on the Pembina zoning code amendment on April 30th.  Portland Rising Tide and the Climate Action Coalition will be mobilizing the community to come out in opposition to new fossil fuel infrastructure in Portland.  Our city is rapidly being turned over to the hands of wealthy business interests and Portland is rising up against it.

I’m learning a lot about aphasia, including an impromptu metaphor from yesterday’s visit to Lincoln City that frames a cautionary tale.

Aphasia can be compared to a fracture, similar to a broken bone.  Aphasia is a frequent injury resulting from a stroke, and the fracture occurs somewhere in the brain between one’s thoughts and its communication, whether it be via speech or in writing.

A person who suffers from aphasia is not a vegetable.  At the Aphasia Network workshop Alice and I attended, two couples – one member of whom is a survivor; the other a caretaker – participated in a panel discussion.  We witnessed how alive each survivor was, and indirectly learned how easy it can be to underestimate survivors’ mental faculties.

Like Alice, a survivor can be overwhelmingly brilliant, but people in the outside world sometimes mistakenly view these individuals to have lost the ability to make rational decisions, viz a viz total brain stupidity.  A frequently held bias by family members, often they might usurp an aphasia sufferer’s God-given right to make decisions for herself (or himself, as the case may be).

Alice gave birth to five children, and many have fallen out of touch with their mother.  One particular daughter, who presently shall remain unnamed, fears for Alice’s safety, especially after a post of how Alice drove alone to express a burning need to remain independent.

When Alice returned, she showed off her prize from shopping at Target, and I was summarily impressed.  There is no question how controlling I can become, and there should be no doubt how much an alpha female Alice can be.  That conflict between the two of us serves as a loving battleground.

Yesterday, this daughter’s fear for her mother’s safety and security metamorphosed into a demand for a date- and time-stamped photo showing Alice alive and well.  The photo under the headline is not so camera-labeled, because it’s meant to entertain readers of this website/blog.

Nevertheless, if Alice’s daughter wants to verify my life partner’s wellbeing, all she need do is call the Blackfish Café in Lincoln City, Oregon, where yesterday, 4/20/15, on a brilliant sun-filled afternoon we celebrated the date with a palate-pleasing lunch of fish and chips (for me, with a beer) and a Philly cheesesteak (for Alice, with a glass of pinot noir).  We are easy to identify, since Alice’s longtime height of 6’3″ turns her into a standout woman.

While we were in Lincoln City, I learned about a sad event that occurred there almost 80 years ago, and a memorial statue and plaque serve as this cautionary tale for anyone who wishes to defy Alice’s inner desires.

In March 1936, a battle-scarred male sea lion came on shore in the little Oregon beach town of Nelscott (where the memorial is erected), and the animal was discovered by resident Dave Dewey.  He named the sea lion Joe, and although Dewey created a fenced-in area for him, Joe soon began exploring other homes in the neighborhood.

This so delighted the townsfolk that they soon discovered that Joe enjoyed being bathed with a garden hose and having his back rubbed with a broom.  The novelty of a wild sea creature’s loving relationship with these residents made the front pages of Portland’s Oregonian newspaper, and soon up to 5,000 curiosity seekers visited the anomaly.

Residents of a nearby town became jealous and complained to a local game warden.  Dutifully, he loaded Joe in a truck, took him back to the ocean and forced Joe to swim away.

Years later, the body of a dead sea lion matching Joe’s wounds (a blind eye and a deep scar on his neck and shoulder) was found in the nearby Sea Lion Caves.  Joe, the Sea Lion of Nelscott, was eventually donated by Suzanne Griffith Allen to the town of Lincoln City, the subsequent name given to the combined five towns that incorporated Joe’s adopted seaside oasis.

The memorial to Joe was erected on August 1, 2014, a fitting reminder what happens when man contradicts a wild creature’s desires.  Indeed, Alice has become my wild creature, and I am pledged to speak for her whenever she cannot.

The idea of writing about Alice’s recovery from aphasia on this website is her idea, not mine.  The decision to move to Oregon from Pennsylvania was her idea, too.

Please honor her wishes as I try to do each day.  It hurts me when others mistake our mutual good intentions.

Thanks.