A Hands Off Approach

25 06 2023

Going through all the hurdles of a security clearance is not easy. Nor should it be.

But I stayed the course and went through every step and finally secured a report for duty status at the airport. It was sort of surreal to be working for an agency most journalists outright despise. What I would come to learn is the TSA — a response to the 9/11 attacks — was the lowest paid government agency and morale was poor.

Granted COVID still had a stranglehold on the travel industry with the omicron variant just coming out. Like the warehouse and the grocery store, we were required to be masked at all times, but since this was a federal government job, only vaccinated employees were allowed to return to workplace.

I sailed through classroom training, feeling like a nerd in history class again as we studied the different terrorist attacks over the years. We watched a video on 9/11 with interviews and footage I had never seen before and it was so powerful tears welled up in my eyes. That was when I knew this job meant more than a paycheck.

“John, you are the smartest one in the class, you’ll do fine,” said Garrett, our stout, barrel-chested trainer with a ponytail and one of those Oregon accents of unremarkable note.

And while, I scored great in the classroom and navigated all the computers, websites and passwords with ease, I would struggle on checkpoint, realizing too late that the cards were stacked against me. Without revealing secrets, let’s just say it was a blessing in disguise that I was unable to get my officer certification before the training hours ran out.

I was relieved of duty after two months. It was crushing.

There was a moment of clarity during the certification process, when it hit me that if I progressed any further I would be required to perform pat-downs on passengers. This was not something I was looking forward to. Just getting them to empty their pockets, take off their shoes and xray luggage was invasive enough. For some reason it never occured to me during this entire process that pat-downs were a big part of a TSA officer’s functions.

Talk about the dog focused on catching the car. The chase was over. The fun part done. Now what?

My refusal to quit eventually forced the agency’s hand. I knew something was up one day when Garrett, normally friendly to me, would not make eye contact and avoided me in the back office. A young female supervisor, clearly sympathetic to what had become my awkward role in all of this, had me take online tactical courses for most of the day, while upper management figured out a way to get rid of me.

I knew the die had been cast, when Garrett walked behind my desk one morning as I was clicking through online tests and muttered underneath his breath, “game over.”

Thankfully, when I was relieved of duty, the agency arranged for me to go on unemployment, which for a decade or more had been unattainble for various reasons. This time the benefits came in quick and without probing questions. A small consolation prize that I would gladly take and I needed the rest.

The train ride home from the airport after getting the axe was one of the lowest feelings of my life. When your country rejects you, it’s hard to accept. And yet at my most vulnerable, a familiar face was there to lift me up. My champion came through again.

“Let’s take a drive to the coast,” David said.


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Pandemic Pains & Wisdom

19 05 2020

I am writing this to you wearing a surgical face mask. We are now entering phase two of this pandemic.

But all is not lost.

The buses still run in Portland. Ridership is down and unemployment rising. More people appear to be living and sleeping on the streets. Not a pretty sight in some cases. COVID-19 is turning the old town and Chinatown sections of the city into slums. I have been witness to awful screaming and fighting among the homeless. The city, much like the nation, often challenged to do more for the mentally ill.

The pandemic has brought forth all the pain America has to bare.

Personally, I’m in decent shape all things considered. Last week, an oral surgeon took three of my teeth. Extracting wisdom, as we say. The process of discovering a health problem was painful. X-rays determined surgery was needed and for the first time in good while, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up the teeth were gone and my mouth full of bloody gauze. They wheeled me down to the car where David picked me up and drove us home.

Four days later I’m writing to you, readers and loyal followers to say thank you. Thank you for reading and supporting my endeavors through the years and the wonderful journey life has provided.

COVID-19

These are truly challenging times. I have lost dear friends to this pandemic. I have listened attentively to my friends, neighbors and co-workers concerns about society and government. The Coronavirus has impacted so many lives and created intersections that are not always fatal.

I have been privileged to meet the acquiantances of and become friends with some truly remarkable people. You will never forget those people you worked with through this pandemic. The level of learning I have experienced is off the charts. Not exactly the original job description of a housekeeper.

Helpers, scoundrels, the naive and dumb, egotiscal tech bros, mama hens and grizzled veterans have all been exposed. I have found who cares, who acts and who sits on the sidelines.

I have fallen in love at times and felt the sting of disappointment as well.

How we got forth as a world will be interesting.

We must re-evaluate what we prioritize, fund and take care of. We must change our behaviors and consumer habits. Most importantly, we have to look out for each other beyond wearing masks and checking symptoms.

Don’t let relationships reach a dead end without seeking or asking for help.

Pull yourself together and check on your spouse, partner, friend, family member, pet, building superintendent, area supervisor, etc. etc.

And remember, you got this.

See ya on the next travel adventure, hopefully.

Ciao for now.

John


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Categories : Confidence, Humility, Portland

Cold Calculations

1 03 2019

It’s winter in Oregon. The winds blowing through the gorge can be harsh at times. There is very little snow fall in the city. That’s ok.

Getting through my first winter in the pacific northwest has been quite interesting. I was warned about the long nights, cold, dampness and the need to stock up on vitamin D. I am also coming to understand the nihilistic, doom and punkish attitude populating parts of Portland. “Keep Portland Weird!” is a frequently used expression.

It’s annoying sometimes. I’ve been harassed on the streets here so much that I worry my demeanor may be sinking to the level of those sludge covered “homeless” campers.  The empathy I had upon arrival is shrinking. Originally instructed to recognize these gypsies’ existence, I now recognize ignoring their savage tactics is the best option.

In the face of these challenges there is still much to be learned. What I am discovering about the pacific northwest millennial species is they are complex, creative, intelligent and quite daring. Winters push most indoors. There are those who brave the mountains, skis in hand. I haven’t ventured up to the slopes yet. This old Florida dude is still adapting.

At work I have benefitted from social policies enacted by left wing bureaucrats. The goal is to continue performing well and lifting the company. David reminds me not to focus all of my energy there. Journalism remains my passion. I write now for love and peace.

Travel-wise, San Francisco and Alaska have been on my mind. San Francisco is obviously one of America’s great cities and Alaska a newer frontier that seems forrested in mystery. Bored with work, I have decided to pursue a graduate degree in urban planning and design.

Entering the university academic realm again seems odd and the threat of student debt is like a flagger on a construction site. However, there are advantages to returning to campus. For starters, the interactions and access to a diverse representation of society is important. There is a human tendency to retreat into safe spaces and minority bubbles. We all live, from time-to-time, in our own little echo chambers. This probably best describes my tenure in south Florida.

After two meetings with the graduate studies director, I decided to seek a master’s in urban and regional planning. I ordered a book from the library in Burbank, California. It was recommended by my friend Wong in San Francisco. Guide to California Planning states there are five elements to planning:

  1. Laws & Regulation
  2. Environmental Analysis
  3. Socio-economic Analysis
  4. Political Approval
  5. Design

Dreams the way we planned them — if we work in tandem.

Shall we begin.

 

 

 

 

 


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Categories : Education, Journalism, Oregon, Portland

Gratefully Injured

11 11 2018

I injured myself. It was bound to happen.

“You’re lifting too much,” Ani said. Smart kid, that Ani.

Yes, my housekeeping duties require extensive lifting and reaching. It’s a physical job and I’m grateful to have it. Aside from cleaning chores, the interactions with co-workers like Ani are important. After years of indepedent contractor work, it is refreshing to be a part of a company again.

Great cities are built by great companies, mind you.

Life in Portland is going just swell. I have been invited on two press tours since my arrival here — Long Beach, California and Puerto Rico. Long Beach was a solo adventure and Puerto Rico a group effort. Both destinations interesting in their own way. Long Beach, in the shadow of Los Angeles, is run by a young mayor. A gay man determined to improve living conditions by implementing new concepts in this coastal southern California port city.

Puerto Rico, still suffering from a barrage of hurricanes, offers beautiful nature and lots of rum. Bacardi is the major player there. I learned how to make a simple refreshing cocktail. Pronounced Die Q Re. It’s basically sugar, superior Bacardi rum and ice. It’s hot in the tropics and ice is a key ingredient.

My tour group in Puerto Rico was a lot of fun. It included seasoned travelers and newcomers. It was designed for the LGBTQ community. There were journalists from Los Angeles, New York and San Francisco there. I managed to connect on a personal level with some of them.

Our group sets sail.

Long Beach seemed to be this vision of what we can accomplish. Puerto Rico offered a chance to relax from the heavy work load, over-reaching and contenious mid-term elections. I knew I was hurt when the luggage became hard to handle at the airport. Perhaps I could have packed lighter. I did not use the laptop, but the sports coat was put to good use.

David gave his blessing on both trips. He stayed in Portland continuing to piece together our studio. We both received influenza vaccinations before I departed to San Juan. When I returned the doc diagnosed me with lateral epicondylitis, aka tennis elbow.

So I’m slowed down. Just in time for the holidays.

Time to reflect on the incredible year we have had. A cross country move. New friends and new challenges. A rennaissance of the soul.

I believe this injury is divine intervention to force my conscience into absorbing the events of the past year. To still be standing and breathing — much less working — is something to be eternally grateful for. I am in a good place in life. Time to cherish that and offer a rum filled toast to even better times ahead.

Long Beach stairs

 


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Categories : California, Journalism, Portland, Puerto Rico, Travel, Work

Coming Back, Gracefully

7 08 2018

Recovery going well. It has been a surprisingly hot summer in Portland. I accepted a union job offer from a local grocery store. Cleaning toilets and taking out the trash. It’s a smelly job, but somebody’s gotta do it and I am damn glad to have the work while earning a decent wage.

Walking the streets has been challenging but it has made me stronger. One must stay ever vigilant in certain sections of the city (Old Town/Chinatown) where those who have fallen on hard times lurk and dwell. I was not prepared for such a stark reality. Skid row here is ugly. Real ugly. These conditions I had not seen since the summer of 2009 in New York. People had lost their minds and were living like dirty gutter rats.

Old Town’s Stag

I’ve seen that here. On more than one occasion.

At my new job it is required to interact with the public. A daily evaluation of the local market. Even in brief conversations, messages can be exchanged. Understanding the neighborhood is important. Knowing hot and cold trends keeps you in the game.

Physically, the job can be exhausting. There is a lot of time on your feet. I average seven miles a day. There is also a lot of lifting to be done. There is even a demolition component involving “bottle machines.” The bottles and cans provide a source of revenue for people living on the margins. A tiny profit for people living on the streets or neighborhood folks trying to pay down bills.

I walk to and from work most days and nights. It is a safe neighborhood with a hospital nearby, plenty of construction projects, shopping and street car lines. Portland, I’m learning, is a major rail city. David and I enjoy riding in the street car. We’ve taken it to the riverfront, library and over to the eastside. Our studio apartment is coming along, albeit slowly. The biggest fix was getting rid of the leaking air mattress.

The Jeep is gone as well. God bless that vehicle. It did its job and more from Calgary to Miami. But, when in recovery mode — rebuilding lives — one needs less worries not more. Vehicles in the city are a luxury. There are risks to street parking no matter where one calls home.

I’m still reporting on queer issues for south Florida and, locally, have picked up a restaurant beat for a Portland neighborhood newspaper. We have joined an Episcopal Cathedral and begun volunteering at community events. Friends are planning visits…. I’m happy again. That’s the most important thing. 


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Categories : Business, Cars, Healing, Oregon, Portland

A New Home In The City

15 06 2018

In Portland I had to learn the city streets again. A hard place to live. I rode my bicycle around the neighborhood a few times but decided it was better to walk. Cars are not as plentiful here as in Florida urban areas. There are many options for transportational needs. There are more options for a lot of things here.

Portland is the nation’s 26th largest city and largest in Oregon. It is often advertised as a brawny lumberjack type town — which still has merit but was constructed with help from a Japanese businessman. We struck gold near the city’s core. Space in an old apartment building in the northwestern section of Portland came open. A small studio that would soon be filled with peace and love.

View of Portland, Oregon from the roof of Washington High School.

Springtime in Portland sees a mix between rainy and dry days. The sun does come out and the nights become shorter. It’s an interesting city with many parks and gardens, a well organized public transit system and a abundance of cafes, theaters and micro breweries.

David’s brother helped us move in. It’s a two story walk-up from the basement and Russell’s extra lifting helped us get all of our belongings moved in one day. I don’t want to see another Uhaul truck for a long time. The studio has tall ceilings and beautiful hardwood floors with a tiny kitchen, one closet and mandatory tub, sink and toilet. We were glad to have found it. Our building supervisor is a pretty young lady with two small children.

We both sought aide from social services agencies and non-profits while beginning the search for a new spiritual home. We visited Lutheran, Episcopal, Presbyterian and UCC churches our first month. Trust God to lead us to the right congregation, David said. I researched the nearby Catholic Cathedral and Jewish Temple. Both had website videos proclaiming their embrace of diversity and same-sex couples.

Portland’s prevailing liberal attitudes is another reason why we settled here. In addition to equal rights for LGBT people, Portland is worker friendly and a solid pro-labor city. It has restaurants of every culture imaginable, a thriving arts and design scene and sizeable Asian population. Black lives matter in Portland. Women hold positions of authority and young people happily roam trendy neighborhoods.

People read here and the myth of print media’s demise is clearly exposed. I immediately linked up with the president of Oregon’s Society of Professional Journalists chapter. We had a nice chat at a downtown coffee shop and she referred me to a couple of newspaper publishers. I am still writing magazine pieces for South Florida’s LGBT community and working on a historical assignment for Huffington Post’s Queer section.

All and all, things are looking up.

“It will turn around, John,” I recall my friend Stephen telling me during our Valentine’s Day dinner back in Fort Lauderdale.

And it is starting to. A phone call came from the human resources department of a major company last week with a job offer. Hello, Portland. Glad to be here.


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Complete Collapse

21 01 2018

Writing is therapy they say. Purge the bad.

I really despise hitting bottom. Particulary when you are trying to avoid it at all times. David developed a bad case of the flu. Off to the hospital we went. Not a fun place to spend the new year’s eve. But we did, watching Anderson Cooper from the fourth floor of Holy Cross Fort Lauderdale.

On David’s first night in the hospital, a letter came in the mail informing us we had to be out of our apartment at the end of the month. Insult to injury. The owner was selling and wanted us to vacate. The owner — an 87-year-old gay man from Massachuetts — was easily agitated and on advice from his cardiologist had decided to sell the apartment.

David, working two jobs, was doing everything he could to pay the bills. South Florida is not cheap. The BMW was constantly in the shop and my contributions had been too little. I wasn’t earning as much as I had the year before and by the holidays we had fallen into the gaps.

In mid-December we departed to the Pacific Northwest to see David’s friends and family. It was a stressful trip with a sudden climate change and long flights. I refused the flu shot just before we left. In Port Townsend, Washington, the sneezing started and stayed with us for the reminder of the trip. I was happy to finally meet David’s close friends, Paul and Carrie and his brother Russ and his wife, Shirley. Meeting the in-laws is an important part of marriage, I reminded David.

Paul picked us up at the airport in SEATAC and we drove north into the Pugent Sound region. It was cold, no fresh snowfall, but still plenty cold. The skies were gray and there was a chill in the air. Port Townsend is cute and charming, hilly with old brick buildings and a harbor where boaters take tourists on whale watching tours. We attended Sunday morning’s service at the Presbyterian church Paul pastors and it was comforting to discover a friendly congregation.

Pugent Sound

The sneezing made my visit miserable. It was only the beginning. Paul’s daughter Lidya drove us to Portland, Oregon the next day to meet David’s brother. That was the sickest point for me and it just so happened to be my first time in Oregon. Thankfully, Russ & Shirley took us in. We toured the city the next day and had dinner at Jake’s Famous Crayfish downtown. I enjoyed seeing David interact with his sibling as I imagined what life growing up in Oregon during the 1960s was like.

Meanwhile, I was unaware of problems mounting back in Florida. Perhaps I was consciously choosing to ignore them. Issues in Panama City refusing to go away and traps laid in Fort Lauderdale. Soon it would be too much for David. Feelings of helplessness, anger and self doubt filled me

Port Townsend, WA

as I sat bedside new year’s eve in the hospital. Another round of trial and error and learning who real friends are.

And then that phone call delivering words that cut like a dagger.

“You’ve made bad decisions in life, John.”

 


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Categories : Marriage, Portland, Seattle