Gray
Why do we favor drab colors? Are we afraid of being noticed?
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Beware
It’s March 15, the ides of March, made famous by your tenth-grade reading of “Julius Caesar.” The 15th of any 31-day month is the ides; otherwise they fall on the 13th. Was this fact useful? Let’s move on.
Word of the year
You may recall that my word of the year is “trepidation. “It settles over me like a sticky spiderweb. When I open my mouth to breathe, to pray, to shout, I push the cobwebs away. I refuse to let them cloud my vision. The Universe will bring me what I need. But will it find jobs for those fired by the administration? Will it feed children when food stamps are cut? Will it keep schools and colleges open?
These are heavy thoughts. I am trapped in trepidation, wrapped in that web. One way I can escape is by writing about things that have nothing to do with politics. Plenty of folks are writing about politics on Substack. I’m crawling back into the womb of Becoming.
When asked to describe what I write here, usually I say I write about “stuff,” or “all sorts of things,” or that my writing is unusual, “quirky,” off the beaten path. Becoming exists of itself. It is what it is. It is here.
Does Starbucks read Becoming?
Just a few weeks ago I ran several photos of customers at a Gresham Starbucks enjoying in-house coffee in paper cups. These weren’t folks who planned to stay a short while and then take the rest of the coffee with them. No, they were parked with friends or laptops for the duration of the drink.
Then this week, I found this sign at that same Starbucks on Civic Drive.
Yes, I do sometimes write at Starbucks. The suburban stores especially are clean and spacious, with good writing tables and accessible bathrooms. The staff in Gresham, including super barista Singer, are cheerful and competent.
Gray
A recent article in The Washington Post notes that gray housing is a sign of gentrification. As new (white) homeowners move into formerly working-class areas, colorful paint is replaced by gray exteriors and minimalist landscaping.
Last September, I wrote about gray buildings in Portland. I still think of small gray houses as quintessentially coastal. But after seeing the WAPO article, I began noticing the encroachment of gray, especially in Portland suburbs.
Neutrality
The large, undifferentiated houses being thrown up in more prosperous suburbs like Beaverton and Hillsboro, sometimes derisively referred to as McMansions, are uniformly painted in dull earth tones, not necessarily gray. They appear stark and depressing, especially as the landscaping has not grown in yet.
But when I travel eastward into more working-class suburbs like unincorporated Multnomah County and Gresham, I find plenty of gray.
The MAX blue line to Gresham journeys along East Burnside Street, past rank after rank of newish apartment buildings. Most of them are gray or related neutral shades.
Gray houses can be found in the inner city as well.
East county life
Low-crouching trailer* parks. Acres of apartments, all monotone Most without balconies, facing the street. Cars pass unseeing, unheeding of life. Still, within these walls, Human tragedy plays out, People make love, raise children, Heat food in the microwave. Sometimes there are books, More often TV— Or so I think Stereotypically Of how “those folks” Spend their free time. What do I know! What can I presume? Folks live their lives, They don’t care about me. Still, I wonder whether The revolution Will be sparked in a trailer Here in east county.
*My apologies for not referring trailers as “manufactured homes.” The phrase is too polysyllabic to fit the meter.
All the same
What’s with the monotone? It’s almost as if Americans have decided not to stand out, not to be noticed, to blend in.
Fortunately, in my inner-city neighborhood, there are plenty of houses with cheerful, colorful paint schemes. Here’s one next to a home with a classy dark gray palette popped with a yellow door.
Atonal living
I have been noticing how most cars are white or black or gray for some years now. I trace the pattern back to 9-11. It’s like we’re afraid to be noticed.
Now monotones have crept into interiors. White walls, black furniture, no books or tchotckes to add pops of color. There might be a green tree outside the window. Maybe some yellow lemons on a kitchen counter.
Young folks these days want white dishes. No pattern, no differentiation.
Even clothing
We are all little mice. I look around the coffee shop where I’m writing this essay, and everyone is wearing black or gray or washed-out blue. I see one green hoodie with a high school logo, but it’s faded, too.
Okay, last week I found some bright pink shoes to photograph, but those were outliers.
A few months ago, the red-brick trim on the assisted living building near my house was painted white.
When I pass businesses on my bus travels, there are spots of color, like yellow awnings or the occasional red logo. Something has to catch the customer’s eye.
But when it comes to private life, most is gray.
Hide, little mice, hide.
Monochrome
Gray life Gray house Gray car Or maybe black, or white Or champagne-colored neutral. Immersed in a neutral life No brightness, no hue Red bricks are an earthquake hazard, So don’t live in a house of brick. Cheerful colors befit a cheerful time. Not like now. Now we frown through days And are leery of sunshine. Yet we can’t keep the moon from glowing orange In this month’s eclipse. We can’t stop the sunset from glowing Over the ocean, here in the West How much easier to ignore the sunrise, Prevailing winds flow east, Pushing aside the moon and the sun Thrusting us into neutral.
Monotony
Gray on gray, or pink on pink, All the same tone, not a chance Of another color, hue or ink To break the monotony of the dance. No emotions, dark or light Crease my brow this flattened day. Edge to edge, the selfsame blight, Spreads a sheet of grimy gray.
Cross words
I usually shrug off the Monday crossword in The New York Times. It’s so easy I can fill in most of the clues on my first sweep through.
But the crossword on March 10, 2025 was deep and intriguing. By the time I got to “geode,” at the bottom of the grid, I realized that many of the day’s words had a special resonance.
The clue for “geode” was “crystal-lined stone.” Geodes are the hollow variety of volcanic rocks known as thundereggs. These can be found in many places in Eastern Oregon. A few pieces of geode lined with purple quartz crystals add to the general clutter in my house. How would I ever get rid of them? Plus, I like them.
The word “geode” conjures magical scenes, fairy castles, hidden gems. Some writers like prompts to get them going. Well, “geode” is a good prompt. I’ll bet you can find plenty to write about it. Let your imagination run free.
Other words
Maybe it was just the day, but certain words on March 10 struck me: meteor, viola, drab. Meteor spoke to the coming eclipse. Viola, an instrument often overlooked. Drab, descriptor of the day and my soul in it.
A few clues were fun:
Entertaining as opposed to disturbing: funnyhaha Wetland area where organic fuel is harvested: peatbog
Bygone clue
My favorite crossword clue of all time: “Starbuck orderer.” The answer is that common crossword word, ahab. Starbuck was Capt. Ahab’s mate on the Pequod in Moby-Dick. The coffee shop behemoth ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. Except for being a behemoth.
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Private memories
One recent day, I had had it with taking photographs. Instead, I relaxed and watched, storing up visual memories just for me.
Memories for myself
Arching catalpa, Just-blooming magnolias, Tangles of weedy wild clematis. Shadows and saturation, colors that flout, All arranged neatly in my memory. Images not shared, impressions kept close No photographs, no sketches, just for me The memory of the light, the glorious light As spring creeps in quietly from the west.
I forgot the rubber bands
One more call for upgrading to a paid subscription! You will have the pleasure of supporting my writing. I will be able to buy more coffee beans.
Last week, I listed some of the things I need for writing, like paperclips. Add to the list the electricity to power my laptop, rubber bands, carbon paper and maybe more bulldog clips. I like to play with those, snapping and unsnapping their tiny arms.
I won’t bore you again with the part about $50 a year being less than $1 a week. Instead, I’ll tell you I’m saving up for a three-hole punch, having misplaced the one I know I have. Somewhere. . . .
I already have a paper cutter, which is a good thing as they are expensive. Well, I got mine for 30 bucks. It used to belong to Riverdale School. I use it to cut out business cards I print onto card stock left over from a bygone project.
Maybe I’ll write more about tools like these. Or something else quirky. Just keep checking in, free or paid, and enjoy what you find here.
Here’s the PayPal link where you can donate a freeform number of dollars in increments of five.
Final image
While I was writing this in a coffee shop, a guy in a purple midi skirt came running down the sidewalk. I love this town! I hope he made the bus.
—30—
We recently had to re-do our kitchen due to a burst pipe. It had gray tile when we moved in. I wasn’t doing that again. But it wasn’t easy finding colorful tile. I finally did find some. It’s not what I would’ve chosen if I’d had an unlimited budget, but apparently most people don’t like much color in their tile. Salmon, sky blue, butter yellow and white, applied in random fashion. And now our kitchen is cheerful even in a Portland winter!
When I give stuff away on Buy Nothing, I tell people to look for the purple house with the orange trim. When April arrives there will also be a pink pig totem out front. My daughters have taught me to embrace bold coiors!