Editor’s Note: None of the reader responses quoted below has been edited for spelling, grammar or punctuation.

When a reader scolds me for writing about pastries and the beach, I no longer cry and call my mother to make sure that I’m still a good and well-meaning citizen. Instead, I stalk the person’s comment history to better understand his or her point of view.

And I make a mental note that this person, with an anonymous username, read my column. Thank you.

After reading my last column, @trotnixon wrote that I was “hypersensitive” and “insufferable.” After reading all of his comments, I concluded that he seemed like someone I might invite to a dinner.

On the other hand, @rightwinga’s comments made me want to change my address and my own username.

He wrote:

“In a nutshell … this is proof of the shallowness of liberals! This is all they care about … wine, cheese, bread, restaurants … on and on! It is the definition of liberal utopia! Well my little socialist comrades … that aint how the world works! Pretend in your little village all ya want but you are sorely lacking the experiences, and the struggles of what real life is all about! Unlike the rest of us, you live in an different mental universe, like your comrades in washington dc!”

You are not the first person, @rightwinga, to recognize my “different mental universe.”

And from a reader who was kind enough to email:

“Dear Ms. McGowen:

“As a former resident of Portland I was interested in reading your column. Until I read it. You left out quite a few things. … Aspects of Portland’s ‘mise-en-scène’ that you neglected to mention include the city’s problem with unemployment and unaffordable housing, the heroin crisis, the number of homeless people, the drunks, the panhandlers, the bar fights and vomit and human excrement on the streets. The ‘takeover’ of the city by upper middle-class and wealthy residents, many from out of state, has … served to engender and magnify an attitude that your column expressed with a vapidness that would almost be impressive were it not so reductive and, ultimately, false. Enjoy your fire pit and keep your blindfold on.”

I agreed with all that he said, but I had to look up “mise-en-scène.” According to my Merriam-Webster app, it means “the arrangement of actors and scenery on a stage for a theatrical production.”

Hmmm … everything I wrote about was real, including my fire pit.

I wrote about real entrepreneurs who contribute to the economy in this complicated city. I wrote about coffee shop owners, grocery store owners and bakers. I wrote about small businesses owned by working-class stiffs who make the doughnuts every day and are worthy of praise and support in this era of big-box stores, corporate farms and processed food.

Brave individuals, in my opinion, who would sell bait on a cracker if they thought it would pay the rent.

When I moved to Portland in the early ’80s, there were family-owned grocery stores and businesses on every corner. You could buy homemade baked goods at places like Piscopo’s Bakery on Brighton Avenue (now the home of the Rosemont Market & Bakery). Independent businesses like The Good Egg, Deli One, Dudley-Weed Pharmacy (now Bonobo Pizza) and Bentley’s restaurant on Congress Street (now Nosh Kitchen Bar). North Atlantic Leather on the corner of Congress and Forest also comes to mind.

There was a farmers market in the triangle now occupied by One City Center and a thriving food co-op on Brackett Street. I worked in many of these small businesses. The inside of my car smelled like hot dogs on the nights that I waited on tables at Café Always on Middle Street. If you don’t know why my car smelled like hot dogs, then fermez la bouche, please.

Thirty years later, another entrepreneurial renaissance is happening again.

Yes, we do have a large homeless population, a lot of panhandlers, a drug problem, way too many condos and rising housing costs. But small businesses are not the problem. If we don’t support small businesses, our groovy internationally recognized city by the sea will fill up with chain stores.

Perhaps it’s a matter of perspective.

Last weekend I visited my parents, who still live in the central Maine town where I grew up.

Although my heart swells with pride when I think about my hometown in the ’70s – a ski hill, a pool, a bijou theater, a good high school – I now visit a town with a very different mise-en-scène. The ski hill, pool and movie theater are still there, but there are also fewer opportunities for employment, rundown houses on every street and empty storefronts.

So, when I walk down Congress Street and have to dodge in and out of pedestrians, I’m impressed.

Dear @rightwinga and @trotnixon: I concede that appreciating wine, cheese, bread and the beach is a luxury. In solidarity with your online comment community, I will change my username to @bourgeoishag.

Signing off.

Jolene McGowan lives and works in Portland with her husband, daughter and dog and has no plans to leave, ever. She can be contacted at:

respondtoportcitypost@gmail.com

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