There is a blight on our beautiful city landscape, and it is not the encampment at City Hall. I had read about the “sleep out,” and on my walk yesterday, I strolled down Congress Street. I saw there a bustling, congenial community in the heart of the city making their desire to live with simple dignity known by their presence and by lifting their voices.
On my way home, I strolled the East End Trail along the waterfront, which used to be one of the most breathtakingly beautiful and relatively peaceful parts of the city. I used to love sitting on one of the benches to read. Now it harbors a gated ghost town of gigantic luxury yachts – dark and empty, silent, devoid of life.
The first time I noticed the yachts I felt nauseated in response to the extravagant display of excess, and mourned the loss of the view. I ranted to my friend that for the price of one of those yachts, we could feed and house the entire population of homeless residents of Portland.
Yesterday, the juxtaposition of the camp at City Hall and the looming personal yachts in the harbor brought that issue even more fully to light. I invite the owners of those yachts to walk through the city and ponder. This is our home. I wish I could say, “Welcome to our home,” but honestly I wish they would either step up and help or go away.
Rebecca Johanna Stephans
Portland
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