I don’t really have anything to say, which can mean that this post will be absolute crap, or it may be a moment of brilliance in the making. I’m guessing more the former than the latter, but the latter may poke it’s head in from time to time.

Having recently graduated from the world of public service to cash in and become part of the corporate monolith, I’ve finally achieved something I thought I never would: an office with a window.

For six years I’ve trudged, to be fair with several offices with windows, but none compelling. When I was a public servant in Salem, I had a window onto a parking lot for about 3 months, and then moved into a much nicer office where, if I leaned forward enough in my chair, I could see a window about 40 feet away across a hall and past a couple of legal assistants’ piled-up desks.

When I came to work here in Portland, I took a job in the Multnomah County Courthouse, on the sixth floor. That building, in case you didn’t know, is shaped like a big square donut. The rumor is that, long ago, executions were held in the courtyardi n the middle of the donut, which has since been filled with a building-within-a-building that holds a few offices but only rises about 3 floors, leaving the remaining 5 to persist in donut-ness. My office on the sixth floor, as is true for all the peons in the sixth-floor county offices found at the courthouse, faced into the donut. So, depending on the day, I could watch juries deliberate (if they didn’t have their shades drawn), or I could see random people walking the stairs, or I could admire the horrific artwork in certain parts of certain hallways.

That window was supplanted by one at the Justice Center, on the second floor, facing south to the federal building across the street. The desk in that office prevented really appreciating the view, and so I really only could see a tree top and maybe, if I stood against the wall correctly in my long and thin office, I coudl sometimes see the federal police lights flashing as they inconveniently parked on Third Avenue looking like law enforcement but, apparently, really just being in the way.

I moved out to Gresham next. My job out there involved being a high-powered county peon at the Gresham Branch of the Multnomah County Circuit Court. The building there is a mixed-use facility. The courtroom has a partition which can be used to make one room into two; on weekends the back half of the room is used by the Benevolent Order of Something-or-Other to house their meetings. The closet in the kitchen back there, it is rumored, contains gallon bottles of liquor. Mind you, this is connected directly to the courtroom, when the partition is open, and seperated by nothing more than a swinging door which isn’t locked. The basement of the building is condemned. The ceiling is falling down, in parts. The office which this particular high-powered county peon worked (and which another high-powered county peon works even now) is a converted closet, jutting out from the side of the building iwth a window looking out into Main City Park, but too high on the wall for the occupant to enjoy any sort of view if they’re actually working (which, thanks to high caseloads and low staffing, is a certainty there like in few other places in the county office I’m thinking of).

I went back downtown and, for two years, had a decent-size office with a window, on the 6th floor and looking out onto Fourth Avenue and the Congress Center. However, there was too much work to enjoy it in the afternoon, and in the morning the reflection of the sun off of the Congress Center was blinding and called for looking toward the window as little as possible. I seem to recall looking out the window during one of my early mornings or late nights and thinking that the view would be nice if I had time to take it in. But, since I didn’t, I refuse to count it.

Eventually I spent 3 years in a hard-to-define position working for my governmental employer but housed and corresponding chiefly with another governmental entity out in Gresham. In 3 years, I had four offices there. As a matter of fact, three had windows. But, sadly, all of them were directed towards the interior, so in two I was looking at cubicles (one of which, for awhile, had a particularly excellent interior), and one of which looked onto a hallway.

For various reasons, the window being one of the least, I jumped ship. Sold out. Flew the coop.

And, upon entering my new profession, I was offered my choice of offices. All with windows.

I chose the one with a whole wall devoted to a westward view (on the 10th floor of a downtown office tower) and a half of another wall carrying a window looking north. I get to see many, many buildings now, including the Congress Center, the Portland Building, the Federal Courthouse, and others. No desk in the way. My seat right next to the window.

And it’s lovely.

Here’s what I’ve learned…

During the day, Portland is beautiful. People walk around, bike around, bus around, MAX around. It’s busy. People chat. Have coffee. Panhandle. Smoke cigarettes. Laugh at eachother. Listen to street music.

I had suspected so much of this. Now, with a window, I can see for myself.

If you don’ t have a window, I highly encourage you to score one.

And, if you’re in the middle of the sixth-floor donut, have patience. Some day, you too can see what you’re missing.

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4. The State of Our Air
5. Mike Schrunk’s Right Hand