HinesSight

Help me save Oregon strawberries

I can't eat the whole 2008 Oregon strawberry crop, but I've been trying. So help me out – buy local, buy often.

I was pleased to see Loaded Orygun's recent post on this important subject: "Not just strawberries – OREGON strawberries. Please?"

It mentioned my "As Oregon strawberries go, so the state" musing from a few years ago. What I said then still is true now.

Oregon strawberries are special. Research has proven that they're sweeter, redder, and simply better. But they're on the decline. Just like our state. Like a canary in a coal mine, the Oregon strawberry reflects the health of our previously vaunted livability.

I've been doing my best to keep Oregon strawberry growers in business. Almost every day I buy a carton or two from Roth's Sunnyslope Market in south Salem, which admirably sells quite a bit of local produce.

It isn't hard to decide between the delicious Oregon variety and the tasteless (by comparison) California berries. The latter travel better, so most of the country has never tasted a real strawberry.

When we were in Bend last week I made the mistake of buying a big container of California strawberries at Costco. They tasted fine.

Until I got back to Salem, walked into Roth's, and saw that local strawberries from Blue Heron Farms were on display. Now I can barely bring myself to eat the California berries.

Loaded Orygun's Torrid Joe has some good news. After describing how tests show Oregon strawberries to be objectively better than competitors from other states, he writes:

And so armed with those selling points, the push is on to identify Oregon strawberries by name in order to drive demand and a taste for a specific variety--like Alaskan salmon or Maine lobster, Vermont syrup or Wisconsin cheese.

Excellent idea. The decline in Oregon's strawberry acreage has to stop, or local berry addicts like me are going to face serious withdrawal problems one of these Junes.

Why can’t Salem be more like Bend?

Or…Portland, Eugene, Ashland, Corvallis – any number of Oregon towns with that special something that Salem so sorely lacks.

Laurel and I cruised around Bend one day last week. Our first stop was the NorthWest Crossing development. We were charmed.

We were involved with the effort to convert Salem's Fairview Training Center property into a sustainable mixed use development. So far it hasn't come to much, aside from the admirable progress of Pringle Creek Community on a small portion of the site.

NorthWest Crossing reminded us of what Salem lacks, because it incorporates many of the elements of the Sustainable Fairview master plan.

Homes are unique, not fashioned from an architectural cookie cutter. They all have a, well, homey feel to them. Porches encourage residents to face outward toward their neighbors.

Cars and garages are relegated to alleys. It's amazing how much better a street looks when it's people-focused rather than automobile focused. The alleys are the least attractive aspect of NorthWest Crossing.

These townhouses have a similar appearance to the detached homes.

This part of the development faces a large open area, left largely natural. As a laudatory description of NorthWest Crossing notes, most subdivisions plat the lots and leave whatever is left over as open space. Here, by contrast:

"The plan, developed by Walker Macy's Doug Macy, Mike Zilis, and David Aulwes, is organized around a large central circular park with mature pines ringed with higher-density homes, creating a distinctive heart to the community and a memorable identity. The plan begins with these placemaking elements, which contrasts with the conventional model of blanketing a parcel of land with lots then trying to carve out open space from the unbuildable remainder."

Family pet in tow, we walked to a commercial area of NorthWest Crossing.

A dog boutique featured a convenient hitching post. We got some lattes at a coffeehouse, sat outside, and enjoyed hearing "cute dog" as a girl and her mother drove by in an open-air Jeep.

Later we drove to the Old Mill District. Shopped at REI (don't have one in Salem). Watched my wife browse at a Chico's (don't have one in Salem). Ate at the yummy Café Yumm! (don't have one in Salem). Then went across town to the Whole Foods Market (don't have one in Salem).

See the pattern? There's a lot that Salem doesn't have, and Bend does, along with Eugene and the other cities I mentioned.

Poor us.

But we have no trouble finding a parking space in downtown Salem. Not much of a silver lining, but Salemites take whatever solace they can get after visiting a town like Bend that makes us realize what we're missing.

Ah, the “joys” of country life

If you live in the city, probably you have fantasies about moving to the country. Quiet. Open spaces. A laid back lifestyle. Bliss.

Yeah, sometimes. But not when your well pump gives out on the Friday before the long Memorial Day weekend and you're visualizing what it'll be like to live without running water for longer than you want to.

Which, it turned out, was about half an hour. That's when the newness of washing hands and dishes from one of the emergency water containers we keep on hand wore off.

When I lived in cities, I can't recall ever turning on the tap and having nothing come out. When you're on a well, that can be a frequent occurrence.

Electricity goes off – no water. Pump breaks – no water. Pressure tank system malfunctions – no water.

And no fun.

Nothing ruins a three day holiday like no water for the house. So I ran to the phone and dialed the number for Bello Pump & Well Service, who had left a helpful sticker on our equipment to remind us that they'd replaced a previous pump.

There's nothing like hearing a well guy answer the phone and tell you, "I'm in your area. I'll be there in a few minutes." Bella, Bello Pump.

Some testing revealed that likely our pump was the problem. It couldn't be replaced until the next day, so we roughed it overnight.

But this morning, there Rich Bello was, armed with a piece of equipment that his father had made the last time our pump needed to be pulled – a device made from a wheel that fit over the casing and helped roll the flexible (and heavy) 200 feet of continuous pipe out of the well.

Bello Pump & Well Service is a family affair. I like how their Yellow Pages ad says "Owner present on all jobs…Richard and Paul Bello, owners, workers, YOUR PUMP MEN!"

Not quite accurate, because Rich brought his wife and oldest daughter along to help out. One drove the Bello SUV up our driveway, slowly pulling the well pipe as the rest of us helped guide it out. Felt like a community barn raising. Except, not so much when I sat down and wrote Rich a check.

But I was happy to do it. Getting competent, friendly, and prompt well service on a weekend is priceless. Well, not really. I don't want to give Rich unreasonable financial expectations next time we need him.

It took quite a while to drain the orangey irony water that filled up our well after all the work that'd been done on it (our water needs to be heavily treated, as is common in marine sediment aquifers in the south Salem hills). And it looks like we still have an intermittent circuit breaker problem.

That's how country life goes. You learn how to deal with problems that city folk don't have.

Walking the dog late in the afternoon I met a neighbor driving home. When he asked, "What's new?" I had a pump tale to tell him, adding that days like these make visions of a downtown condo look appealing.

"I know what you mean," he said. "But dealing with challenges keeps rural life interesting. I've learned a lot about how to fix things since we moved out here."

True. It doesn't take much for me to reach my level of mechanical incompetence, though. Especially when the problem is 200 feet underground.

That's when you need a well guy. If you're in the Salem area, make that a Bello guy. (And maybe a gal, though I got the impression that Rich's daughter had other career choices in mind once she's finished with school).

Belly dancers show need to shake up Salem

Beauty. Artistry. Color. Diversity. Energy. Passion.

Not words usually associated with downtown Salem, Oregon. But yesterday Silverton's Raks Sarama belly dancing troupe, performing at a First Wednesday celebration, showed that this sleepy city has potential to wake up.

In my You Tube video (embedded below) you can hear a conversation between me and a fellow progressive friend, Frances, where I extol the virtues of my Flip Video camera.

Before that, Frances told me that she'd just been extolling the virtues of Lloyd Chapman, who is running for mayor against the incumbent, Janet Taylor. She ran into some Taylor supporters and told them that Chapman was a better choice for Salem.

Amen to that.

I can't vote for Chapman since we live outside of the city limits. But I sure hope he wins, defying the odds against dislodging Taylor from her entrenched position as a defender of unplanned growth, reduced quality of life, and favoritism toward big business over the average citizen.

We recently got back from a Hawaii vacation where shopkeepers asked us innumerable times "So, where are you from?"

I got tired of muttering, "Salem, Oregon…it's pretty boring with not much going on…Portland and Eugene are a lot more interesting." Had to speak the truth, though.

It's sort of hard to put a finger on exactly what it is Salem lacks. Whatever it is, Janet Taylor and her hidebound city council aren't the ones to bring it to town.

Chapman promises to shake Salem up. And god knows, we need it.

Raks Sarama showed me that. It was great to see the sidewalk in front of the Salem Center mall filled with smiling clapping people rather than just a few moribund shuffling shoppers.

At the end of the video I include a dig at Hillary Clinton. Understand, I'm much more of an Obama lover than a Clinton hater. There's a lot to like about her.

However, this country needs to be shaken up even more than Salem does. More of the same won't cut it. That's why I'm for belly dancing in the streets, Lloyd Chapman, and Barack Obama.

“Subdivided” points to ugliness of Salem

Sometimes, well often, when I'm driving around un-beautiful Salem, Oregon, I look at the atrocity of Commercial Street, Lancaster Drive, or the shuttered stores of downtown, and think "Who the hell foisted this ugliness on us?"

It's amazing, really.

We've gotten so used to the sterility, car-centeredness, garish billboards, utilitarian strip malls, treeless parking lots, and people-devoid sidewalks of the typical American town, the monstrosity of it all has left us numb to truly noticing it.

That's why it takes a documentary like "Subdivided," which Laurel and I saw a few nights ago at Salem's Progressive Films Series, to open eyes.

The movie is about the rise of isolated cookie-cutter suburbs and the decline of creative urban neighborhoods with a genuine sense of community.

Now, we're not exactly poster children for the new urbanism. We live on ten acres five miles from the Salem city limits, sucking up fossil fuel every time we drive into town – notwithstanding our hybrid cars.

But someday, when maintaining our uneasy care yard and the rest of our property gets too much for us, I can see us comfortably settling into a condo or townhouse within easy walking distance of the necessities of life: a coffeehouse, natural food store, bookstore, parks, walking/biking trails.

"Subdivided" showed that lots of people much younger than us also want a lifestyle that isn't centered on a three car garage, a postage stamp yard, and fences (both physical and mental) that separate neighbors.

One striking image in the movie recreates the filmmaker's experience of suburban isolation. Here he describes it in an interview.

When I moved back to the Dallas area (after living in California), one of my first experiences with people in my new subdivision was when I saw this guy across the street mowing his lawn. I figured this would be a good opportunity to introduce myself, but as I walked across the street and the guy saw me, he turned and mowed his way into the back yard.

This is by no means something isolated to North Texas - during research for the film I learned about attitudes like this all over the U.S. in suburban residential areas.

Years later, it says in the movie, he still hadn't met his neighbors. To our neighborhood's credit, we're more tightly connected than that – largely because our development has a commonly owned area and easements for riding/hiking trails that meander behind most of the lots.

Architects interviewed in "Subdivided" point out that this is important: having a focal point where people gather. In suburbia, that doesn't exist. Stores are just a place to run into and out of.

By contrast, in the small town where I grew up, going to the grocery store was a social event. Almost always you'd meet people there who you knew well. Shooting the breeze was as important as buying the milk.

We've got some of that here in Spring Lake Estates, which makes our 1970's era development pleasingly different from most semi-rural neighborhoods.

A community lake and picnic area is our focal point. Laurel and I walk around it daily. Most of the year we rarely see anyone else, but during the summer children and families flock to the common property. Then, conversations are common.

Where is there anything like this in Salem? A public gathering spot that draws people not for a commercial reason, but simply because it's a pleasant place to be.

In college I spent a semester abroad, in a Yugoslavian town on the Adriatic Sea, Zadar. In the late afternoon and evening people would promenade along the seawall. I recall that girls would walk in one direction, and boys in another, for maximum meeting potential.

In downtown Salem youth hang out at the Coffee House Café and a few other "with it" spots. I enjoy seeing them in their black-clad, cigarette-smoking, body-pierced splendor.

Thank god, someone is on the sidewalks of Salem. I even enjoy being accosted by panhandlers; that's how boring downtown is most of the time.

Salem, like every American town suffering from the stultifying effects of suburban subdivisions, has a chance to come alive again. The riverfront area has the potential to be a gathering point now that the Boise Cascade plant is slated to be replaced by a mixed-use development and public areas.

Connecting with people. Disconnecting from cars. Getting out and mingling. Good urban (and suburban) design is pretty simple. We just need to do it.

Starbucks wants to be my new best friend

It's sort of touching, those signs that have popped up in every Starbucks store. "We're your neighborhood Starbucks."

Well, actually you aren't. I live at least seven miles from the nearest Salem Starbucks. And that's the way this rural resident likes it.

If I want a friend, I'll get a dog. In fact, I have a dog. Pretty much all I want from Starbucks is a skinny venti vanilla latte a couple of times a week.

However, atmosphere does matter.

When I have a latte choice, I head for a locally owned place like the Coffee House Café. I like how they serve my "for here" drink in different looking cups, depending on what's clean. And how different baristas make my drink differently.

Starbucks has belatedly realized that becoming the coffee store corporate equivalent of McDonalds isn't such a good strategy. What was cool a couple of years ago now seems dated, predictable, commercialized.

A few signs touting Starbucks' neighborliness isn't going to change the vibe. Especially when the signs are obviously fashioned from a single corporate marketing cookie cutter.

About a week ago the head honcho of Starbucks, Howard Schultz, unveiled his "innovative customer-facing initiatives" and "vision for transforming the Starbucks customer experience and reinforcing a strong foundation from which to grow."

Great. This customer is ready to have his Starbucks experience transformed. I can hardly wait.

Free stuff would be an excellent place to start. Along with lots of others, I've complained that Starbucks sucks with its high-priced wi-fi.

So it's good to see that this is about to change. I found that out by perusing "My Starbucks Idea" on the Starbucks web site.

At first this struck me as just a corny superficial way a corporate giant tries to look like it's listening to customers, without really taking them seriously. But actually it's pretty interesting.

You can browse through the ideas and see which are under review (such as a punch card system) or coming soon (such as free wi-fi).

Unfortunately, "Lower your prices" hasn't struck the fancy of Starbucks management yet.

Instead of spending mucho $$ on advertising, just lower the prices a little. Old customers will return, new customers who are frightened by everyone who talks about "$5.00 for a cup of coffee!?!" will be lured in, and existing customers will feel 'special'.

I also liked "Go back to the European coffee house."

Please go back to your original idea of an European coffee house and get rid of the extraneous items like cds, stuffed animals, countless foods and all that factory holiday junk. I love the original Starbucks better.

And here's a shocker.

Until recently I'd been getting a grande latte (medium), but have switched to venti (large) because it seemed a better price per ounce deal. I assumed that a venti had an extra shot of expresso. It doesn't!

I never understand why extra milk is the only difference between Vanti and grande drinks. It is expected that there should be an extra shot!!!!!! Most of people don't even know this "secret".

Some apologists who commented on this suggestion said that coffee places have a formula for their drinks, adding an extra shot for every eight ounces. Since a venti is just four ounces bigger than a grande, it doesn't qualify for an extra shot – which supposedly would disrupt the harmonious balance of ingredients.

More caffeine the better, that's my recipe for harmony. So like some other commenters, I'll probably be going back to grande. If I want more milk, I'll take a few sips then fill up my cup with the free moo juice on the Starbucks counter.

Maybe that doesn't sound neighborly. But none of my neighbors charge me almost $4 for a large cup of coffee.

A newbie Democrat sees Obama in Salem

Oh, yeah. Now I've really jumped into the Democratic deep waters, after a lifetime of swimming around as an independent.

Today I made a pilgrimage to see the reason I became a Democrat: Barack Obama. He came to Salem this afternoon. An hour late, but he made it.

Guess I can't complain (though I do on the video below), since it took me several decades to make myself into a Democrat – and someone who cares enough about a presidential candidate to go to quite a bit of trouble to hear him speak.

It turned out that Laurel and I didn't need the tickets that I so proudly acquired a couple of days ago. Nobody checked if we had them, probably because the Salem Armory ended up not being completely filled with Obama supporters.

But it almost was. And they were damn enthusiastic. For a couple of hours sleepy Salem woke up. Amazing.

I especially enjoyed the energy of the many young people. They made this baby boomer recall his 60's activism, a twenty something wild about changing the world.

Here's how I saw Obama, through the eyes of my Flip Video. Three hours condensed into less than ten minutes. We weren't one of the first to arrive (I'm not that avid a Democrat) so got seats pretty far back.

Hey, if you want a close up of Obama, watch CNN. If you want to see what it's like to stand in line for a chance to see Obama far away, watch my You Tube video.

[Update: Look! Proof! We were featured in a Statesman Journal photo of the event today! Well, by "featured" I mean that we're the two tiny heads a bit below, and to the left, of the waist of the woman raising her hand. Get out your magnifying glass.]

Obama coming to Salem – I got tickets!

Below is some video of an enthusiastic crowd in downtown Salem today, waiting to snap up tickets to Barack Obama's appearance in our normally sleepy city on Friday.

The Coffee House Café must have done some bang-up business. Proving that laid-back counter culture types also can have business sense, a nicely tattooed employee worked the line (which stretched most of the way down the block).

As you'll see, I was desperate to cover up the corporate latte that I'd just bought at a nearby Starbucks. That's where I heard about the ticket giveaway, which led me to head down the street, venti latte in hand.

I enjoyed being part of the Obama excitement. I'd wondered about how it was possible for a presidential candidate to fill up a large auditorium with thousands of supporters on short notice.

With Obama – and the electronic age – it isn't difficult. His campaign put up an online ticket issuing site, but the (accurate) word on the street was that it'd been closed. That made those of us waiting in line feel better about our chance to score the two tickets each person could get.

A guy next to me was phoning friend after friend, telling them to get their butts downtown if they wanted Obama tickets. I could see people hurrying down the sidewalk, having heard about the Coffee House Café ticket opportunity.

I chatted briefly with a reporter from the Statesman Journal who I knew. He's covered local politics for many years, and said that this was the first time a viable presidential candidate had come to town.

Mostly they skip Oregon, our May primary usually being irrelevant, delegate-wise. But this year is different. Obama's coming to town.

And I've got tickets. It's been a long time, like maybe never, since I've been enthused enough about a candidate to spend a couple of hours in the Salem Armory at a campaign rally.

But this election is different. Obama's coming to town.

Size matters with county commissioners

Is five preferable to three? Absolutely. Personally, I think seven is even better. But last night I learned that no Oregon county has more than five county commissioners.

It's hard to imagine that a meeting with the geeky title of "Marion County Governance in the 21^st Century" would be as interesting as it was. Before I headed off to the Salem Public Library to attend this Friends of Marion County forum, I considered taking along a super-sized latte to be sure I stayed awake.

But it was surprisingly engaging. The reason for the get-together was to explore the pros and cons of expanding the Marion County board of commissioners from three to five members.

Voters in Clackamas County recently approved such a move. Ron Johnson, former chair of the county Planning Commission, said that unchecked dysfunctional growth convinced both political leaders and citizens that more heads around the board of commissioners table would make for better decision-making.

Peter Sorenson, a Lane County commissioner, gave the same message. Five commissioners leads to fewer problems and better results.

The math is simple: two people making a decision versus three. With five commissioners it takes more talking to get something done. And that's good.

Under Oregon's public meetings law, a majority of a decision-making body can't discuss an issue up for a vote in private. So two people on a three member board can't have a working coffee or lunch together. With a five member board, they can.

I asked Sorenson why the usual governmental system of checks and balances doesn't apply at the county level. Usually there are separate executive, legislative, and judicial branches – like the President of the United States, Congress, and the Supreme Court.

But in Oregon a board of commissioners can administer county departments (including hiring and firing managers), pass ordinances, and then make quasi-judicial decisions on those ordinances.

I said that this seemed like too much concentration of power. Sorenson replied that in land use planning matters there'd been a state legislative effort to have cases appealed to a state hearings officer, which makes a lot of sense. It didn't go anywhere.

Too bad. However, enlarging the number of people making county decisions, quasi-judicial or otherwise, would help to diffuse the power of a single commissioner – which obviously is high in a three-person board where two rule.

Those attending the meeting filled out a questionnaire asking which of various options they preferred. Three or five members? Elected county wide or by districts? With an elected chair or a rotating chair?

It'd take an initiative to change the board structure. That could be referred to voters by the current board of commissioners (the easy way), or signatures could be gathered (the harder way).

Even harder would be changing Marion County from a General Law to a Home Rule governance. This is an ever geekier subject that I won't attempt to describe.

Janet Carlson, chair of the county board of commissioners, came to the forum and made some remarks as an audience member. Kudos to Commissioner Carlson. The current board should seriously consider expanding from three to five members.

Hopefully there will be enough interest in this issue to keep the discussion going. Admittedly, it isn't the most provocative political topic at the moment, with the presidential race so hot and furious. Still, it holds the promise of improving how Marion County is governed – an undeniably good thing.

Suddenly I felt very old

Damn you, Coffee House Café! You're one of the few hip, happening, alternative gathering spots in downtown Salem. And I'm a hip, happening, alternative guy who frequently stops in for a latte.

I enjoy having my drink prepared by a tattooed, pierced, black-clad barista with an attitude, a pleasing contrast with the staff at the squeaky clean Starbucks down the street.

During the day I feel like I fit right in at the Coffee House Café. Beard. Longish hair. Impeccable '60s counterculture credentials. Progressive politics. We're on the same radical wavelength.

But last night I realized that our relationship has some rough edges.

Laurel and I met up at the Coffee House Café at 7 pm (well, 7:20 for Laurel – she was her usual late self) for an Argentine Tango lesson that'd been billed on a café bulletin board.

We clutched our dancing shoes in bags. I noticed a neatly dressed older guy (meaning, given the age of the evening regulars, over 25) sitting on a stool, also holding a shoe bag.

As 7 pm approached 7:30, and no sign of a Tango lesson was in evidence, aside from chairs and tables cleared to the side to open up the wood floor, I walked over to the guy to learn what he knew about the delay.

"Somebody told me that the instructor is on his way," he said. "Otherwise, I don't know what's happening." Nobody else seemed to either. The café staff appeared blissfully unconcerned that the lesson was already half an hour late. No apologies or even an announcement.

I couldn't tell who else was there to learn Tango, and who was just hanging out. Bongos were drumming outside. Cigarette smoke was heavy over the sidewalk. Skateboarders bounced in and out, carrying their ride. Sneaker-clad youths ran this way and that, meeting up with and parting from friends.

The only people who looked at all uptight were us old fogies who had the obviously unrealistic expectation that just because a café had said there'd be a Tango lesson at 7, somebody should be concerned when 7:30 comes and goes, and the prospective Tango'ers are sitting around clueless about what's going on.

This was the first moment I felt very old. I started to reminisce about going to concerts in Golden Gate Park and other Flower Power venues back in the late '60s.

We never cared when the happenings happened. Often a band – the Jefferson Airplane, say – would be hours late. We'd just go with the flow – easy to do when you're stoned out of your mind and 20 years old.

Not so easy when you're high on a caffeinated latte and pushing 60. Suddenly today's counterculture seemed dreadfully self-absorbed, unorganized, and lacking discipline. Hell, I've got better things to do than watch a bunch of weirdly dressed kids run around trying to get their act together.

That was thought #1. Thought #2 was, Oh, shit! I'm sounding just like my mother did in 1968, when I was 20 and she was 56.

As the evening wore on, I felt even older. The distressingly youthful Tango instructor finally showed up. He looked about 16, just like our family doctor does. A similarly young crowd materialized around him, eager to try something new.

Dance shoes weren't in evidence. The other older guy had taken off, realizing sooner than Laurel and me that this wasn't his scene. We stuck around for a bit longer, perched safely on a couch, not wanting to markedly raise the average age on the crowded dance floor with our geezerish presence.

Plus, it was obvious these kids weren't taking the lesson seriously. They were fooling around. Not paying attention. Joking with each other. Dancing however they felt. Not respecting the instructor's authority.

Oh, shit, I'm sounding like my mother again!

Laurel and I went home, feeling older than when the evening began. But not in a bad way. It'd just dawned on me that my baby boom generation has passed the counterculture baton on – some time ago, really. I'm now the person I rebelled against in the '60s.

And that's OK.

We'll continue to take Tango lessons at the RJ Dance Studio. On a nice clean floor. In an organized class. Which starts and ends on time. Wearing neat clothes.

I'll still drink lattes at the Coffee House Café, supporting a place for youths to hang out until they become like me – old enough to wonder What the heck is the matter with kids these days?

Starbucks sucks with its high priced wi-fi

Being a frequent Starbucks customer, I've noted laptop users in the ubiquitous stores tuning in to what I assumed was free Wi-Fi. After all, these days even the most humble coffee house usually offers a complimentary Internet connection, so why wouldn't this corporate giant?

Greed, I guess.

Because after my router decided to stop routing this morning, I packed up my ThinkPad and took it with me to the West Salem Starbucks, where, after chatting for a bit with friends, I opened it up for some well-deserved Internet access.

Well-deserved, because my habitual grande nonfat vanilla latte sets me back $4.00, after I plunk the sixty cents I get back in change for the $3.40 drink into the tip jar.

And I've bought a bunch of them over the years, each contributing to Starbucks' profit margin. But today when I needed twenty minutes of Wi-Fi access with my latte, the only web site I could reach was T-Mobile's HotSpot page.

Where I learned that I could use my laptop all I wanted at Starbucks for a "mere" $29.99 a month, or $9.99 for one day's access. One hour would cost me $6.00, even if I just needed a few minutes of connect time.

Everybody at my table, all regular Starbucks customers, was surprised. Shocked, even.

I can go into downtown Salem's humble Coffee House Café and enjoy free Wi-Fi, even though this establishment neither has "bucks" in its name nor nearly as many in its cash register.

Returning home, I figured out how to bypass my recalcitrant router and found quite a few others dismayed by Starbucks' squeeze out every nickel from patrons corporate policy.

Unhappy customers can be found here, here, and here. Starbucks' defense of their price gouging was pretty lame. Basically it was that we have lots of locations where we can rip you off for Wi-Fi access, so be grateful for the convenience.

I read that one argument for charging Internet users is to keep people from hanging out at tables all day long for the price of a cup of java.

Well, somehow independent coffee houses with free Internet deal with this problem (or non-problem). And as this guy suggested:

If I ran Starbucks I would drop the T-Mobile partnership and provide a Wi-Fi WPA key on the receipt that's good for 90 minutes with any purchase over $2.50. That way they wouldn't have the problem with people hanging out all day without buying anything just to use the Wi-Fi and it's also certain to increase sales.

He should be running the Starbucks marketing department. Because I'm vowing to take my latte business elsewhere, whenever possible.

I like to get a latte after my Wednesday Tai Chi class. There's a Starbucks half a block away. But the Coffee House Café is just a short walk further. To me it's worth a few extra steps to stand up against a corporate rip-off.

I need my lattes. And I also need my Internets. Once I've paid for my caffeine fix, I shouldn't be gouged again for my broadband addiction.

Hopefully Starbucks will come to realize that treating customers right is a surer route to long-term success than squeezing them for every nickel and dime (hourly Internet access is ten cents a minute).

The Starbucks stock price has dropped a lot this year, obviously due to bad Wi-Fi karma. Open your eyes, Starbucks management.

Radio Free Salem offers hope to Oregon’s gray zone

Praise be!

Help is on the way for the oppressed residents of Salem, we who have the misfortune of living in the depressing I-5 gray zone between the bright spots of Eugene and Portland (along with Albany and Woodburn, but Salem is the capital of mid-valley ho-hum ness).

The December Salem Monthly asks "Could 88.5 FM be the new home of a community radio station in Oregon?"

It will, if aspiring community radio station operator Karen Holman succeeds with her FCC application for a non-profit radio license.

Holman is a chemistry professor at Willamette University. I hope she brews up a creative blend of alternative music, talk, and reportage, a la Portland's KBOO.

You can read about the plans for Radio Free Salem on her MySpace page.

I'm excited. I'd love to host a Church of the Churchless program where the heathens, infidels, pagans, godless, and damned of Salem can talk about our faithlessness.

The radio station would be a terrific addition to a community that comes up way short in culture, creativity, energy, and excitement – as documented with depressing regularity on this blog here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.

Best of luck, Karen. We Salemites await news of our air waves liberation.

Oregon is a nasty place to live, really!

The winds have died down. The rain has stopped. I've taken the chain saw out of my car, which I drove around with for the past three days, ready to cut my way through roads blocked by fallen trees.

Things are starting to get back to normal in the Northwest after the biggest Pacific storms in a decade roared through.

Here in south Salem we did fine. No power outages. No flooding. Just a bunch of fir branches blown loose by the 45-50 mph winds.

But elsewhere in Oregon and Washington havoc ruled. Many roads are closed, including the I-5 freeway between Portland and Seattle.

It's hard to see a silver lining in news stories that begin with:

A pair of storms that slammed into the Pacific Northwest had much of the region under water Tuesday, leaving five people dead, thousands without power and major highways shut down.

But I can identify at least one: maybe this will help convince people who are thinking of moving to Oregon that this state is a nasty place to live. It is! Really!

And I'm not saying this just because I recall with fondness Gov. Tom McCall's famous admonition, "Come visit us again and again. But for heaven's sake, don't come here to live."

He said that in 1971, the year I moved to Oregon. So it obviously didn't have the desired effect on me. Nor on so many others that now we need lots of Tom McCalls.

I'm hoping that these storms will do what McCall couldn't: keep people from moving here.

Heck, already I have to spend an increasingly disturbing number of minutes every week in Salem "rush hours" (which for a long time have been called "rush minutes," but threaten to become the real thing).

And, aspiring Oregonians, you need to know a few other things about this godforsaken state.

One of which is that it is indeed godforsaken, being the most unchurched state in the nation. Not surprisingly, Portland is believed to have more strip clubs per capita than any other U.S. city.

So if you want to tick God off (and trust me, that isn't a good idea; just look at the storms that hit the godless), go ahead and move here.

If you do, prepare to spend a lot of time smelling gasoline fumes. Because Oregon is one of two states that don't allow you to pump your own gas. You can self-serve your own suicide, however.

Bottom line: don't even think of coming to Oregon. North Dakota, check it out. They're just trying to scare you off with all that Badlands talk. I hear it's a terrific place to live.

Salem’s newspaper gets an “F” in journalism ethics

In the past two days I've learned a lot about the Salem Statesman Journal's concern for journalism ethics. Bottom line is, they couldn't care less.

My ethical eyebrows got raised when I noticed that a draft editorial about Oregon's Measure 49 contained absolutely zero information about what this soon-to-be-voted-on ballot measure does.

Yet the editorial endorsement was "no." Unbelievable.

How can a newspaper run a content-free editorial about an important statewide vote? How is it possible to say you're against a piece of legislation without describing it?

After exchanging lots of emails with the editorial page editor, Dick Hughes (who wrote the editorial), and Brian Priester, the newspaper's president and publisher, I've concluded that both of these guys are clueless about what it means to be a responsible journalist.

Even I, who was a journalism major at San Jose State College back in 1967 for just a semester, knows more about the ethics of editorial writing than Hughes and Priester.

I sent them a link to the Basic Statement of Principles of the National Conference of Editorial Writers. I pointed out that the first two principles are:

1. The editorial writer should present facts honestly and fully. It is dishonest to base an editorial on half-truth. The writer should never knowingly mislead the reader, misrepresent a situation, or place any person in a false light. No consequential errors should go uncorrected.

2. The editorial writer should draw fair conclusions from the stated facts basing them upon the weight of evidence and upon the writer's considered concept of the public good.

Note that "facts" are mentioned twice. Opinion has to be based on facts. Yet when I told Hughes about the significant factual errors in his editorial he emailed me:

Disagree. It's clearly Opinion. It's an editorial. It's biased. It's opinion. IT'S NOT A NEWS STORY.

Well, my first comment is that you shouldn't use all caps. Bad form. My second comment is what I told Hughes: read what the National Conference of Editorial Writers considers to be ethical editorial writing.

It sure isn't what Dick Hughes wrote. Because one of the most egregious factual errors in his Measure 49 editorial is this statement:

In fact, the only people who may benefit from Measure 49 are the lobbyists, interest groups and lawyers on either side.

This is obviously wrong. It shows that Hughes either knows nothing about Measure 49, or he's choosing to ignore the facts so he can make a predetermined recommendation to vote "no" without looking like more of an idiot than he already does.

Because if Hughes had said, "We're recommending you vote 'no' because we favor large subdivisions on farm, forest, and groundwater limited land. We don't want Measure 37 claimants to have transferability rights that will allow buyers of their property to develop it themselves. We're opposed to letting spouses of Measure 37 claimants be able to inherit the waiver. We favor allowing industrial and commercial uses on Oregon's most valuable farmland" – readers of the Statesman Journal would have said to themselves Why the @#$$%&! Is the newspaper taking this position?

This is why I strenuously argued that the editorial violated both of the ethical principles above.

It took an underhanded duplicitous approach to its "no" recommendation, failing to mention even one thing that Measure 49 would do if passed, and failing to mention any of the negative effects that Measure 37 will bring Oregon if left unfixed.

The National Conference of Editorial Writers says that fair conclusions have to be drawn from the stated facts. Yet Hughes presented no facts, none, to support his statement that lobbyists, interest groups, and lawyers may be the only people to benefit from Measure 49.

That's patently false. And Hughes got plenty of emails that informed him of that fact in response to his request for comments and suggestions on the draft editorial, as I reported yesterday.

Today I heard back from Brian Priester, president and publisher of the Statesman Journal. It's obvious that he, like Hughes, doesn't understand that an editorial is supposed to be based on more than personal opinion – which easily shades into crazy-ass fantasy, as was the case with Hughes' piece.

I could say, "Vote no on Measure 49 because it lets government bureaucrats come into your home and kill your dog or cat." Oh my god, that's shocking!

Well, it should be. Because I just made it up. Just like Hughes made up the sentence about Measure 49 not benefitting the general public.

This afternoon I heard from publisher Brian Priester. He wrote me:

The one you quoted as most egregious – "In fact, the only people who may benefit from Measure 49 are the lobbyists, interest groups and lawyers on either side," strikes me as 1) clearly opinion (by the use of the word "may" as opposed to "will") and 2) an accurate characterization and reasonable conclusion based on the information at our disposal.

Since it speculates on future events, I don't see how it could be construed as a factual error. At most, one could argue we drew the wrong conclusion from the arguments presented to us - and I am sure readers will argue that point in letters to the editor. So, no I don't consider this a "factual error."

Um, Mr. Priester, didn't you read the principle #2 that I sent you in an earlier email? To repeat:

2. The editorial writer should draw fair conclusions from the stated facts basing them upon the weight of evidence and upon the writer's considered concept of the public good.

Sure, it's the Oregonians in Action and Salem Chamber of Commerce party line that technical problems with the wording of Measure 49 won't allow any of the law's stated benefits to go into effect. But nobody believes this other than the most extreme Measure 37 fanatics.

Measure 49 was carefully reviewed by legislative counsel before being sent to the voters, which means that it will accomplish what it says it will do.

So when Priester says that Hughes' editorial is factual and draws correct conclusions, that's hogwash.

I've been a Statesman Journal subscriber for over thirty years and have always considered the newspaper to be a valuable asset to the Salem community.

Now that it's owned and run by Gannett, it sure seems like the corporate culture has changed. There's an arrogance to Hughes and Priester that screams "We can do whatever we want, journalism ethics be damned, because we can."

That's sad. Salem deserves better.

Vote "yes" on Measure 49. Show Hughes and Priester that the citizens of Oregon know the difference between right and wrong, even if they don't.

Salem sinks further into mediocrity

Ah, Salem. It's sad how you're never able to rise above the moniker of "Oregon's boring capital city."

Today's Statesman Journal had three stories on the front page that demonstrated how far Salem has to go before it's worthy to be considered anything more than an I-5 gas stop between Portland and Eugene.

First, there's "Lefty's Pizzeria on State Street closes suddenly." I didn't go to Lefty's often. But I knew that it was one of the few places in Salem where you could enjoy live blues, jazz, and comedy.

Believe me, if you live in Salem you're used to singing the blues. And you definitely need comedy to cheer you up whenever the thought "Oh, my god, I'm stuck in Salem" won't get out of your mind.

Second, I read about "Residents to repair, not own, Salem's sidewalks." Now, I don't live in the Salem city limits. But even so this strikes me as a ridiculous idea.

The City Council's notion is to make each property owner responsible for repairing the slice of sidewalk in front of their home or business.

As one of the commenters on this story said, why not also make people maintain the part of the public road in front of their property? Or the sewer and septic lines? It's one more nonsensical city decision that makes residents sigh, "Ah, (or ugh) Salem."

Third, I learned that "City's troubled properties create thorny problems for officials, eyesores for unhappy neighbors." This story was about Salem's dangerous and derelict buildings, only one of which is downtown.

However, many more downtown buildings are empty, boarded up, and also eyesores. I've noted that the best thing about downtown Salem is the plethora of vacant free parking spaces, because there's so little reason for anyone to go downtown.

Earlier in the week there was another depressing Salem story, "Fairview site may be sold to pay creditors." The 245 acre Fairview site was supposed to be a model sustainable development.

My wife and I owned shares in the LLC (Sustainable Fairview Associates) that bought the Fairview property and eventually sold it to a group led by a Portland developer, Phil Morford.

Our decision to cash out when the opportunity presented itself looks really wise in retrospect. Because now Morford probably will have to sell the property to someone else, and the sustainable zoning looks shaky – reading between the lines of this quote in the newspaper story.

Last week, the bankruptcy trustee met with Salem city officials and discussed the property's zoning and infrastructure. Plans for the Fairview site are flexible and shouldn't deter a potential buyer, McKittrick said.

Translation: "The city doesn't give a rip about sustainability and would be just as happy to see a traditional development be built, if that's what it takes to get more property taxes flowing into Salem's coffers (not that we'll pay for sidewalk repairs even then)."

Seemingly recognizing what's in the cards for Fairview, given the Mayor's and City Council's eminently unGreen credentials, the Statesman Journal editorialized "Ecologically friendly plans should be in land's future."

Well, we shall see. There's no sign that the black cloud of boring mediocrity is going to lift from Salem anytime soon. Maybe Fairview still will be a ray of creative sustainable light.

But I doubt it. Even without Lefty's Salemites are still singing the blues.

Here’s why Salem is so depressing

For a brief moment, oh so brief, the headline in today's Statesman Journal gave hope to my terminally depressed Salem mind.

I've pretty much given up hope that Salem ever will be anything other than the bland, featureless, fast-food loving, strip mall adoring, second (or third) class city that it is now.

But my heart fluttered with unfamiliar optimism when I read:

Keizer Station a boon to area economy. More stores set to open; grocery store is a possibility

Grocery store is a possibility. Why, that could mean…dare I hope?...no, not in Salem…maybe, though…be optimistic…keep reading…they might be referring to…

A Trader Joes. Which my wife and I, along with countless other Trader Joes-deprived Salemites, have been visualizing for quite a while.

Reading on, I came to mention of Keizer Station's Area C.

Area C, west of the railroad tracks and south of Chemawa Road, remains undeveloped and unplanned, but a change could be made there to allow a 120,000-square-foot building that could house a grocery store, developer Alan Roodhouse said.

Hmmmm. Undeveloped and unplanned. Doesn't sound promising. Then, three paragraphs down the line, my Salem depression returned with a this town is so goddamn #@$%^! vengeance.

If the changes are approved, the store could be in by the end of 2008 or mid-2009, Roodhouse said. Store candidates include Fred Meyer, Safeway, WinCo and Wal-Mart. Stores not interested in the site include Trader Joe's, Whole Foods Market, Albertsons and Roth's, but Roodhouse said any of them would be welcome in the spot.

Dear God, why hast thou forsaken Salem!? Is it because we share the name of a city known for its witch trials? Whatever the reason, lift the curse, the black cloud, the life-sapping vibe, that hangs over Oregon's second largest city.

Lord have mercy – not another WinCo or Wal-Mart!

My sentiments were shared by many of those who left online comments about this story, which begin here and continue for several more pages. Trader Joes was mentioned longingly.

Just what is it going to take in order to get Trader Joe's to come to either Keizer or Salem? Come on folks, we need something new! I am sure that the people in the area may be able to use a Walmart or Freddys, but wouldn't it be nice to have something that we don't already have? We need a Trader Joes!

I think the powers that be at Trader Joe's are doing themselves a disservice. They need to think outside the box and take a chance on Keizer Station. Their bean counters are too focused on demographics and not interested in reality. People in this area are dying for Trader Joe's and I believe it would do quite well.

I too would love to have a Trader Joe's in Salem. About once or twice a month we drive up to the one at the I-5 & 217 interchange and stock up on a lot things that you can only buy there. I have heard the reason that Trader Joe's will not come to Salem, is that the average disposable income in Salem does not fit their model. This is the same reason Whole Foods and other stores avoid Salem. As the article said, the management of the development would welcome them here, but the stores don't want to come. Does the term, "one horse town" ring a bell here?

I was in Bend for a vacation a couple of weeks ago, and they are building a Trader Joe's there. I couldn't believe it. I do not understand why the heads of that company seem to think Salem or this area wouldn't be a good place for a Trader Joe's. Trader Joe's is not an expensive store, at least not to me. So I don't get it.

I don't understand Trader Joe's reticence in not wanting to come here. Salem has a mixed population, but there are many people who make lots of money and appreciate their products. I believe they would do well in Salem. They would also draw people from other areas that may not go to Portland to shop them. For them to snub Salem makes me think twice about shopping Trader Joes at all.

Would LOVE to see a Trader Joe's! I drive up to the one in LO now & could spend even more at one here with the gas money I'd save.

My sources tell me that Trader Joe's will locate here within the next couple of years but only in South Salem.

Well, that last comment left me with a ray of hope, a slight parting of the perpetually gray clouds that hang over Salem's shopping and restaurant scene.

Keizer Station, for those who are fortunate enough to have missed its trendy-in-1980 big box shopping center design, currently has such yawn-inducing stores as: Target, Sleep Country USA, Ross Dress for Less, Lane Bryant, and an OSU Beaver Fan Shop.

(Oh, yeah. That's just where I don't want to head, after watching OSU lose to Cincinnati in such a dreadful fashion last week.)

Such is Salem, land of Wal-Mart, Target, and all-you-can-eat dining. But here's the thing, Mr. or Ms. Trader Joes location planner, who I hope will read this post one day after Googling "Salem + Trader Joes."

Your store would make out like gangbusters here. Really. Especially if it's in south Salem, which is populated with a larger share of health-food friendly creative class types than, say, the penitentiary neighborhood.

Build it and we will come.

Qwest, I’m waiting for DSL…still waiting…

I'm seriously seeking DSL in our south Salem neighborhood, now that I've tasted the faster broadband life at our cabin in Camp Sherman. Yes, Camp Sherman, a hamlet of several hundred full-time residents in central Oregon that is as beautiful as it is isolated.

Five miles from Highway 20. Ten more miles to Sisters, the nearest town of consequence. Yet one of our cabin co-owners just arranged to have Qwest DSL installed.

So now when we're in Camp Sherman I can sit down with my laptop, facing Ponderosas and the Metolius River, out in the middle of nowhere, connecting to the Internet at about twice the speed of my WildBlue satellite service here in Salem at about half the cost.

What gives? I've written before about my frustrations with Qwest. Three years ago a supervisor told me they could get DSL to our area, but they weren't going to, even though we've just five miles from the Salem city limits and two miles from the nearest existing DSL "crossbox."

Wouldn't pencil out, I was told. "Well," I thought (and still think), "isn't Qwest a public utility? Doesn't this mean that it should serve the public? Or am I expecting too much?"

Recently I asked someone in Camp Sherman how they were able to get DSL. I was told that at first the Qwest attitude was "you will never see it." Sounds familiar. However, a flurry of calls were made to the "proper politicians" and some area businesses testified to how much they needed broadband.

After that, gosh, the technical problems that supposedly made DSL an impossibility in Camp Sherman went away. That gave me hope for our neighborhood, since we're a whole lot closer to DSL civilization than Camp Sherman was.

So a few days ago I optimistically dialed the number on one of the innumerable ads we get from Qwest inviting us to sign up for DSL.

It rings. I'm asked to press "1" for English. I do. Then the line goes dead. After a while a voice tells me, "If you want to make a call, please hang up and try again." Not an auspicious start to my communications with what's supposed to be a communications company.

Second time I reach an actual human being. But not the right one. She gives me another number to call. Now I get someone who seems concerned about our plight. I tell my tale about how I have DSL in Camp Sherman, but not in south Salem. I tell him that a couple of years ago I was informed that DSL was technically feasible to install in our area. The stumbling block was cost.

Yet somehow Camp Sherman got around that roadblock. "So," I said, "I'd like to plead our case to someone in Qwest who makes DSL decisions." I could easily get dozens of neighbors, including a bunch of home-based businesses, to send cards and letters to Qwest, since there are more people living nearby than in all of Camp Sherman.

I was put on hold. The guy needed to talk to a supervisor. After five minutes or so he came back on the line. "No way will you get DSL," he said. "It'd cost a million dollars to install." He told me that I should get my neighbors to go to the Qwest web site and request to be notified when DSL is available in our area.

Which would evidently be never. Since I'd already asked members of our neighborhood association to do that back in 2004, I figured that going through the exercise again would be as useless as it was then.

My next bright idea was to phone the Salem Center retail Qwest store. I couldn't find any other Salem number for Qwest, which clearly isn't big on letting customers talk to local employees. For when Brandi returned my voice mail message, she said that she'd have to talk with DSL-knowledgeable Sam in Vancouver, Washington.

I couldn't talk with Sam directly. But she'd ask him my questions about why we didn't have DSL and let me know Sam's answers. Those, in brief, turned out to be "too far away" and "load coils."

I'm still trying to talk with Sam, because this smells much more like a brush off than a definitive technical answer. Three years ago I was able to speak with a DSL installer and he told me it'd be simple to get DSL out to us. It'd just require some equipment upgrades.

Meaning, Qwest would have to spend some money to improve service in our neighborhood. Again, not an unreasonable thing to do for a public utility.

A little Googling confirmed my cynicism about Qwest's stonewalling. I learned that "load coils" is a common phone company explanation for why DSL isn't available in an area. These thingies improve voice quality at the expense of frequencies where DSL functions.

They have to be removed before DSL will work. OK, then remove them. If I ever get to talk with Sam, I'll ask him why this can't be done.

Apparently a modern switch can replace old load coils. However, an acquaintance who works for Comcast and seems to know what he's talking about told me that many Qwest phone lines are horribly outdated. He said this is why Qwest hasn't been a takeover target. They haven't invested in equipment upgrades, so no other company wants to buy this technological dinosaur.

I don't know if that's true. And I sure don't know much about load coils. Still, my good friend Google taught me that there's something called a Smart Coil which replaces load coils. A Smart Coil lets you have fine voice quality and DSL if you live quite a ways out, like we do.

My hope is that somebody will read this post who either (1) is a Qwest employee who can tell me how to break into the company's DSL installation decision-making loop, or (2) knows someone who has this information.

I don't think Brandi is high enough up in the Qwest management food chain. She's going to keep giving me the company party line: "too far away" and "load coils."

Qwest's CEO, Richard Notebaert, looks like a nice guy. Maybe he reads blog posts about his company. If so, I just want to say that I'm waiting for DSL, Richard. Still waiting. With my Lucy Liu Qwest fantasy intact.

Give me a call. I'd love to chat with you. You have my number.

Salem Art Fair is unfairly female centric

Men, it's time to stand up for our rights. We've been second class art fair citizens for too long. I'm tired of seeing those Homo sapiens with XY chromosomes looking bored like this…

While the XX's are happily browsing a few feet away from them like this…

Now, these female Salem Art Fair'ers happen to be Laurel, my wife, and Rita, a friend from Seattle who visited us this weekend along with her husband, Ron.

So they aren't associated with the bored-looking men in the first photo. But Ron and I were right there at the waiting bench with these guys, wondering along with them: How long can a woman spend in a handmade clothing booth where lots of the stuff is on sale?

Answer, we found: A really, really long time. And not just once. Laurel went to the Salem Art Fair by herself early on Friday to glom onto several on-sale jackets being sold by Brie Kreibel.

Then she returned on Saturday with Ron, Rita, and me to rummage through the "Wearable Art" collection again, earning for herself what must be Brie's highest accolade: "You're my best customer."

There's little doubt that for most of the over 200 booths, that honor went to a woman. Because art fairs are seriously slanted toward female sensibilities. Ron and I kept our eyes open for one, just one, item of men's clothing for sale other than hats and belts.

Nope, zilch.

And the art fair sexism didn't stop there. Over and over we'd see an enthused swarm of women buzzing around a booth with not a single man among them. Ooh, earrings! Jewelry! Baby stuff! Dresses! Flowery objets d'art!

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy art fairs. And they teach me a lot. Like, patience and forbearance, which I practice while my wife studies a seemingly endless number of dichroic glass earrings before telling me, "I've got to think about these; we'll have to come back to this booth later for another look."

After several hours of browsing I'd just about given up hope that I'd find anything up my alley. Then, praise the Fractal God!, I came upon Dennis Brady's blend of art and fractal geometry mathematics. (Could he be David Crosby's twin?)

I was instantly mesmerized. Dennis and I had a great conversation about the meaning of the cosmos. Fractals are a reflection of the "whole universe in a grain of sand" thing.

Dennis pointed to one of Bush Park's majestic oak trees and said that he tried to explain to some visitors how the structure of the entire oak tree is mirrored in each of the large branches. Also, in each of the smaller limbs. And even the leaves. He said the adults didn't get it. Some ten year olds did.

After a lot of picking through his fractal art collection I ended up with two yin and yang'ish 5 X 7s: the hot "Dragon's Lair" from his 2007 collection and the cool "Snowy Ridge" from his 2005 collection.

It was hugely satisfying when Laurel and Rita came into the booth and said, "We'll meet you ahead because you're taking such a long time." Oh, really? Let me tell you what a "long time" in an art fair booth truly is, girls. Though you should know.

Ron also ended up doing OK on the shopping front. He got a glass ball for their garden – not this one, though we all liked it. Today Rita and I took him back to a hat booth to buy a cap that he chickened out on getting yesterday.

I liked the leather look. Ron was on the verge of getting it until I made the mistake of mentioning the Village People.

It took Rita and me almost twenty-four hours of reassuring Ron about his heterosexual masculinity until he was agreeable to returning for the cap today. Then he wimped out and chose a wool version. It looked fine, but the leather one had that MG driver look to it.

Lastly, I'd be remiss if I didn't share a final photo of Ron getting a five-minute art fair massage. I feel like there's some perfect caption that should go along with this image.

Can't quite come up with it, but feel free to supply one on your own. Oh! Just thought of one…

This guy doesn't look anything at all like Glenn of the Village People (so far as we can tell).

Oregon elected officials shouldn’t make land use decisions

A lot of weird stuff goes on in Salem. We're the home of the state legislature, mental hospital, and penitentiary – each of which is filled with certified crazies.

Now the Salem City Council is joining the crowd that makes me think What the @#$%&! ??? when I open the newspaper. Last week the Statesman Journal headline was "Editorial prompts delay on development decision."

The not-so-savvy city attorney, Randall Tosh, got it into his head that publishing an editorial or sending an email about a land use issue constitutes ex parte contact (a communication to a decision maker made outside the hearing process).

Since the Statesman Journal had editorialized against allowing a major shopping center on an already-overcrowded street, Kuebler Boulevard, and had urged readers to tell the City Council how they feel about the Pac Trust development, this was way too much free speech for Tosh.

So the Council postponed a decision on a zoning change, re-opened the hearing, and scheduled more testimony for August 6. Ridiculous.

As soon as I read the newspaper story I rushed to my laptop and sent an email to the Statesman Journal opinion editor. I urged her to run another editorial the next day to show the City Council that the First Amendment is still alive and well in Oregon.

That's what happened. And I was pleased to see that their "Memo to Salem council: don't read this" included a quote from my email.

As one Statesman Journal reader wrote: "To my mind Tosh's position strikes at the heart of informed public discourse. He seems to be implying that a newspaper can't publish anything about a land-use case that is still being considered by decision-makers. That sounds really Big Brotherish, allowing government to operate in secret."

Right on, reader. I can't help agreeing with myself.

I'll go even further than this, though. A bigger problem than elected officials making land use decisions in secret is their making the decisions at all. Why the heck should a city council or county board of commissioners be interpreting complex laws and ordinances when they're incompetent to do so?

My wife and I know whereof we speak, because we've appealed several neighborhood land use cases to the Marion County Board of Commissioners.

As reported in "Another Measure 37 outrage," two of the three commissioners are openly dedicated not to enforcing county ordinances, but to feathering the pockets of those who want to build large subdivisions on groundwater limited farmland. They don't bother to even go through the quasi-judicial motions of a land use decision appeal.

A letter to the editor, "City puts developers above its citizens," made a similar point about the Salem City Council.

On nearly every significant decision by the City Council and mayor, when