PORTLAND BLUES SATURDAY

Portland blues come in more shades than one.

Dark blue for the homeless.

Darker blue for the park bench addicts.

Blue green for the tax paying homeowners just living their lives and doing the best they can.

But what about the rest of us?

Today I will imbed myself in Portland blues.

What will I see walking across the Hawthorne Bridge?

I know what I won’t see: a broken wooden walkway from 1980.

It wasn’t a bridge over troubled waters but you’d be in trouble if you fell in.

What will I see walking the Eastside Esplanade?

A statue of Vera Katz, bikes, runners, walkers, and the Blues Festival sending a message across the Willamette.

Driving down from the 405 ’cause I missed the turn off the interstate,
Rolling past PSU, a school working to raise its rate,
Heading down to the river and I know I won’t be late,
For a Portland blues kind of time.

The band plugs in and turns it up, the guitar man does his tricks,
They don’t do requests, there’s no song for you to pick,
But there’s no worry because he knows all the licks,
For a Portland blues space in time.

I feel the rhythm in my bones making people smile and feel alive,
It starts on the highway and grows until we all arrive,
Then the music kicks in and takes us on another drive,
To a Portland blues kind of time.

But what’s it really feel like on the Waterfront Blues Festival Saturday?

I have my hopes.

Stay tuned: