Open Streets

There is so much to write about this morning. Yesterday was full of such complete human goodness that I wish you all had been there. It reminded me that collective joy is possible when we set our minds to it.

It was Corvallis’s annual Open Streets celebration. For four hours once a year, a different route through the city is closed to traffic. Bikes are encouraged, pedestrians wander, homeowners along the path put tables out with puzzles or games to play. People make music from their porches, live or with a guitar. Mandalas are created over entire intersections, trees are identified, homeowners offer garden tours, whatever people want to do. One guy built a small white single-prop plane that he hoped to pull kids around in on his bike. It turned out to be too heavy for that, so he made it so he could pull it on foot. He drew a runaway on the street. Kids got in and pretended they were pilots. Lots of joy there.

Brent’s project was an outdoor living room set-up called “Let’s Talk, Corvallis.” He bought a rug and a lamp at Goodwill, packed up our deck chairs and a coffee table, had a banner made, and set up a schedule for anyone interested in taking a 30-minute slot as host. The idea was to encourage neighbors to introduce themselves, sit for a spell, learn a bit about one another. My job was simply to be there, meeting and greeting, encouraging tentative visitors to join in. It was a hoot. Worked just the way Brent hoped it would. We met all kinds of people. Our first “capture” was a guy named Phil who was offering free bike repairs in a booth next to ours. When I offered him a chair in our living room, he told us his day job is working with disadvantaged high school kids. This week, they’re learning how to assess what kind of trees to plant in areas around town that need trees. They’ll plant them when they’ve made their decisions. They’re learning Biology, Forestry, Landscaping, and How to Survive. Another guest, a biologist, recently retired from a local company whose work helps people with muscular dystrophy. She plays the clarinet in the Community Band, too. Our youngest visitor, Andrew, is going into second grade. He wanted to know the name of the tree we were sitting under. A white-haired lady on an e-bike overheard his question, got her smart phone out, then used an app to identify a Honey Locust for the little boy. Then Suki, my friend, told me that the super lethal, one-inch thorns on the tree were used by birds to store their next meal. They impale bugs they’ve caught on the thorns of the Honey Locust, then come back later when they need a snack. Andrew and Suki decided we needed to remove the lowest branch on the Locust whose biggest thorn was growing at eye level.

Brent was smart enough to invite the mayor and the members of our city council to stop by the living room. Sure enough, they did! How ‘bout that. One or more of them were talking to voters/neighbors for almost four hours.

Around 2:00, after I’d been on duty for several hours, I noticed a cluster of individuals dancing around the courtyard like people at a Grateful Dead concert, but I didn’t hear any music. It was odd. I went over to investigate. Turned out, they all had headphones on listening to the same funky disco a young DJ was broadcasting from under a nearby tent. A table stacked with Bluetooth headphones was (wo)manned by the DJ’s friend, and anyone was welcome to put a pair on. Well. I’m always willing to put headphones on and that was the end of the day for me. I stayed in my world of disco for the final hour, dancing around, remembering my steps, forgetting my tender back, leaving the world as we know it, and simply enjoying myself. Dancers came and went, but a few of us clung to the joy and kept dancing. While I was there, I met my last two new friends. A young woman attending Open Streets had her tortoise with her. She told me his name was Tortellini. She carried him in a basket with a purple plaid lining like Dorothy with Toto in the Wizard of Oz. She was letting him roam in The Arts Center’s garden, to stretch his legs, to feel the dirt under his claws. To experience freedom, just like me.  

New Friends

Joan and Sonny, hosts; Charles Maughan, the Mayor; the scene at Let’s Talk, Corvallis; Tracey Yee, Charlyn Ellis, and Briae Lewis, three of our city councilors; and Tortellini, moving too fast for a decent shot.