Writing Exercise: Portland Memory

I was riding the max yesterday.

I ride it every day.

To work,

From work,

and other random occassions.



Others were riding too, naturallly. Amid the crowd of people was one guy with a guitar. He was with a friend. He played and the two of them sang.

What made it great? They were good...but that's not what mad it great. Usually peole pay minor attention , at best, to young street kids playing music. Not this time. People saw talent, so they made requests, and the guitarist could play alot of them. To top it all off, people sang with the two of them. Before long, six of seven people sang with them.

I looked around and saw contented contented faces all around. Readers put their books in their laps and people lightly tapped their feet on the ground. Others drummed their thumbs on the handles they clasped.

At stops people left smiling and new transitors stepped on, very quickly getting wrapped up in the event unfolding.

Some Beatles, Some Hendrix, Some Presley, some original, and a whole lot of happy people.

I wanted to continue riding until they stopped. I wanted to absorb that feeling and save it. I wanted to continue seing sullen fces slide into smiling persons.

Alas, I could not. I stepped off the max, where I was transported to the larger collection of people who missed out on a moment that will be defined as one of my favorite portland moments.

This is something that I am coming to realize. On a regular basis we are afforded the opportunity to experience something that only a select few get the pleasure to experience. Sometimes it is a moment for one person, sometimes twenty or one hundred. But its when we approach life with open eyes that we begin see that every day has moments. And its in those moments that time slows down and a subtle peace is found.