|View from the Springwater Corridor|
I went for a bike ride on Sunday, pedaling first through the surface streets of Southeast Portland, then on the east bank of the Willamette River along the Springwater Corridor. I crossed to the west side over Hawthorne Bridge, took a spin through Waterfront Park, then turned east at the Steel Bridge and headed for home in the Hawthorne district.
|Enjoying the good weather at Waterfront Park|
As I rode along, I saw my fellow Oregonians out enjoying the good weather. My solipsistic nature no doubt causes me to project my own feelings onto the people around me, but it seemed that as I saw the families riding their bicycles, the readers laying on blankets in the park, the couples strolling along the river, admiring the view, I had the sense that the regret I was feeling was shared by my fellow citizens. Summer is gone, and the dark days of winter are looming.
We're Oregonians, after all, and once you've experienced an Oregon rainy season, you know that weekends like this last one will fade to dreamy memories long about January or February.
But, my regret (and again projecting onto the people around me, their regret) is not solely due to the summer's annual death, but to the death of our American summer. With the pending financial crisis that looms, with banks closing, with a gas panic occurring even now, this very moment, in the southeastern United States, with a Russian bear claw resting on our Tblisi jugular vein, a lack of trust in the American financial system, and a fierce cultural divide within our country, dark days are ahead. And everyone seems to know it.