Justice delayed

When I walked in the door after work today, Lori greeted me with the news that I had a piece of mail waiting for me from Multnomah County Circuit Court. I haven't been nailed with a parking violation in months, but I had a suspicion of what was in the envelope.

Sure enough, there it was: a $25 check refunding part of my bail for a ticket issued -- can you believe this? -- on April 18 of last year. Ten and a half months ago? Are you kidding me?

Last summer, I wrote a blog post, "Vindication!" in which I happily noted that the court had given me a $24 refund for a questionable parking citation issued in October 2009. When that check arrived, I initially thought it was a partial refund for the April 18 ticket -- a $45 whopper that greeted us at the end of an otherwise splendid Sunday morning walk in the Southwest Portland hills.

I hadn't purchased time on the meter because I mistakenly believed that paid parking hours at the city park where we'd left our car didn't take effect until after Memorial Day. Wrong!

Nevertheless, because I felt I'd explained myself so well in a letter of appeal that I sent to the court in May, I confidently wrote that I expected to receive a full or partial refund for the second citation by Christmas. Wrong!

I was off by two months. My $25 refund check was dated 2/25/11. How's that for symmetry? Turns out I paid a $20 penalty -- instead of the original $45. And it took nearly a year for the creaky machinery of the courts to deliver only a partial refund.

I could grouse about this a little more but at this point I suppose the better thing to do is to consider this an unexpected windfall. My own little stimulus. Yeah!

Vindication!

Monday's mail brought a nice surprise: proof that the wheels of justice do roll on, even if it can take interminably long.

Even before I opened it, I could tell from the return address on the envelope that I'd gotten a refund for a parking ticket. Back in April, I'd gotten a $45 ticket for failing to plug a meter at a city park on a Sunday morning. I'd misinterpreted the small print on the machine to mean that paid parking hours wouldn't take effect until after Memorial Day. I drafted a letter, respectfully pointing out my error and sent it out to the faceless state circuit court, noting that I hadn't intended to avoid paying the $3 worth of time needed for the hike we took that morning.

And then I waited. And waited.

And, finally, the letter arrived -- with a "full refund" of $24.

Hmmm. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a few details. The check was sent to me at my old address. The citation number differed from the one I'd received in April. The amount of bail refunded was $21 less than what I had paid.

All that led me to realize the court was refunding a previous ticket -- one that I would have incurred before November, which is when we moved to our new address. In my hazy memory, I recall contesting that one, too, because the overtime parking ticket showed a time stamp that was outside the range of metered parking hours.

So, it appears that it took at least eight months for that appeal to result in a $24 refund. At that rate, I hope that means I'll receive my $45 refund just before Christmas.

Taking my own advice

Three days ago I posted "Slow Dance," a poetic admonition to slow down and appreciate life's little blessings.

Today I did just that.

At mid-morning on my day off, I drove out West Burnside to where the Wildwood Trail takes you uphill and into the maze of trails that criss-cross Hoyt Arboretum. I hadn't been up there for weeks and at first I dreaded my choice because I could see a big knot of schoolkids and their chaperones scattered along the trail and on a footbridge.

I weaved my way through them with little problem, however, and quickly found myself alone on the trail. As I approached the crest of the hill, I noticed a little brown field mouse scurrying from left to right across my path.

I got to the top, stopped running, turned off my iPod and ventured onto a side trail, appreciating the quiet and the fact it wasn't raining for a change. I leaned in to see the tree identification markers as I passed by the jack pine and lodgepole pine, appreciating the staff's thoughtfulness. A few yards down the path, I paused to see if a bird I had noticed would alight on a branch. It was a hummingbird -- and it did. Normally a beautiful sight as it hovers like a mini-helicopter, this one took a moment to rest and laid its wings flat against its body, letting me come within six feet before taking off.

Another few yards down the path, I heard a rustling on the ground. I peered to my right into the undergrowth and, after a moment of concentration, spotted a brown furball -- a young rabbit.

Wow. In less than 10 minutes of leaving the city behind for the forest, I'd spotted three critters.

I turned around, headed back to the main trail and ran for another 20 minutes before coming to the Oregon Vietnam Veterans Living Memorial (above). I stopped for a few minutes to pay my respects and walk silently around the curving granite wall. As I was about to exit, I came upon a panel of names I'd never noticed before: a list of servicemen believed to be Missing in Action. A few asterisks had been added to those whose remains were subsequently found. Pretty sobering.

All of this -- the encounters with wild creatures, the thoughts that come from witnessing a list of Oregon service members who've made the ultimate sacrifice, the pleasure of running on a soft surface while dodging the puddles -- wouldn't have happened if I'd run my regular route with the usual mindset. I think I would do well to remember to "Slow Dance" more often.

Photograph: Sam Grover

Serenity in the city

A couple days ago, I drove to work rather than catch the bus as I usually do. I'd packed a brown bag lunch, figuring I'd run some errands on my lunch hour and also make time to eat outdoors.

I didn't really have a destination in mind when I crossed the Hawthorne Bridge but, boy, did my VW Bug lead me to the right place: Ladd Circle. It was a mid-day respite that, once again, made me realize how much I appreciate the simple pleasure of a casual lunch on a park bench.

Ladd Circle is a 1.5 acre park in the heart of Ladd's Addition, a very cool older neighborhood in Southeast Portland, between Hawthorne Boulevard and Division Street. The neighborhood is named for William Ladd, a former mayor and prominent businessman during the 19th century. The park has more than 3,000 roses of sixty varieties, so it's a treat for the eyes and nose.

To appreciate Ladd Circle, imagine you're a bird looking down at a circular park with eight spokes (streets) coming off it in the midst of a residential grid with diagonal streets. Or check out this view from Wikimapia: http://wikimapia.org/146079/Ladd-Circle

The day I was there, I couldn't believe the number of bicyclists who came riding past me. It was non-stop for 30 minutes. The majority were folks in their 20s and 30s, seemingly headed somewhere (school or work, probably) as opposed to just being out for a recreational ride. There were older folks, too, on bikes, along with a couple of ladies walking their dogs and one hipster chick who whizzed past on a kick scooter like the one shown here.

Seeing so many people using pedal or foot power to get from one place to another made me realize how easy it would be to plan a trip to the grocery store some weekend where I rode my bike and brought along a backpack to carry things home. Of course, I'd need a better lock than I have now. But I know it can be done. And it will be done -- sometime later this month, I hope.

Though Portland has many, many places to just chill, I'll have to remember the feeling of serenity that came from this recent visit.

P.D.A. in the park

I can't let this day end without sharing something that made me smile...

So there I am, sitting on a park bench in Lownsdale Square, not far from this statue. I'm casually eating some takeout from the Saigon Express food cart (pad thai with tofu and curried vegetables) and watching the lunchtime crowd pass by.

You've got office workers with their Subway sandwiches or burgers; attorneys lugging their briefcases to or from the county courthouse on my left or the federal justice center on my right; young mothers pushing their kids in strollers; and the occasional homeless person pushing a cart full of returnable cans and bottles.

The sun is shining, I've got a book with me and I plan to read a few pages before heading back to work.

Then I notice some movement about 40 yards directly in front of me. There on the grass, under the shade of an elm tree, I see a guy lying on his back, his head resting on the stomach of another person, whose head of hair is all I can make out clearly because the person's feet are facing away from me. The guy sits up, does a half-turn and proceeds to lay his upper body on the person below and kiss the other person.

Is it a woman? A man? Does it matter? Do I care? Honestly? No. I'm thinking, "Good for you, dude." To show that Public Display of Affection in the middle of the day of a city park, no matter who's passing by or looking, is pretty cool.

Turns out his partner is a woman. Like him, she's pretty heavy-set, has short, mussed hair and is wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He's got just-woke-up brown hair, with a balding spot on the crown. I'm guessing they're both around 45. Who knows what brought them there... Jury duty? Doubt it. A court case? Hope not. Unemployed? Possibly.

He rolls off her and sits up. She reaches under his shirt with her right hand and rubs his shoulders. Again, I'm thinking, "Good for you, dudette." Showing your man some love.

I never did open my book. Headed back to the office, thinking that was as a sweet scene as I've seen in the movies.

I was going to post John Legend's "P.D.A (We Just Don't Care)" video here but embedding has been disabled. Click on the link and enjoy the song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4R_oswROic