Great piece, that billboard was a fixture of our summer travels to the San Juan’s, my kids were always wondering what it would say “this time”. I had heard the tribe was going to replace it with tribal facts/info on a new sign, was looking forward to that, kinda the ultimate 180.
I've driven past that sign many times on our way to Portland or a road trip to California. So glad it's gone. I've just started your book! I'm curious to see if you mention another I5 landmark, (or, I suppose "The 5", as it's in California,) the barn with "State of Jefferson" on the roof.
Thanks for providing the story behind the story. Glad to be rid of that visual pollution on I-5. Thanks, too, for your exemplary writing. What you said here totally captures how I've been feeling this year:
"There are times American political life feels like stagnant pond water — never moving, only festering. Consequences are a mirage. Justice seems to not extend as high as the halls of power. Everything feels rotten from the inside out, and all us regular people are forced to live in the stink, doing that thing where we try to act normal, like we can’t smell anything. Every now and then, seems like the wind blows hard enough, and the stench goes away, but it can be fleeting."
Brilliant column, Leah. I drove by that hideous sign many times in the 60s-70s on my way back and forth from Seattle to Portland, and since then too. I love this passage. It captures beautifully the sisyphean task of fighting extremism (& misogyny too), the sad exhaustion of it all.
"The arrests and the sign coming down felt like one step back, one step forward in the fight against extremism. A terrible dance that never progresses, only stays in the same place."
Great piece, that billboard was a fixture of our summer travels to the San Juan’s, my kids were always wondering what it would say “this time”. I had heard the tribe was going to replace it with tribal facts/info on a new sign, was looking forward to that, kinda the ultimate 180.
I'm so glad someone finally wrote about this weird billboard's history. And especially glad that it's you. Leah.
I've driven past that sign many times on our way to Portland or a road trip to California. So glad it's gone. I've just started your book! I'm curious to see if you mention another I5 landmark, (or, I suppose "The 5", as it's in California,) the barn with "State of Jefferson" on the roof.
Ah yes, the barn. I don't mention it in the book, but I do mention the State of Jefferson in this story (though the barn doesn't come up): https://www.hcn.org/issues/55-8/north-extremism-oregons-greater-idaho-movement-echoes-a-long-history-of-racism-in-the-region/
I remember reading that when it came out. Thanks for the link!
Thank you for writing this piece. This is what deep, thoughtful local reporting can look like.
Thanks for providing the story behind the story. Glad to be rid of that visual pollution on I-5. Thanks, too, for your exemplary writing. What you said here totally captures how I've been feeling this year:
"There are times American political life feels like stagnant pond water — never moving, only festering. Consequences are a mirage. Justice seems to not extend as high as the halls of power. Everything feels rotten from the inside out, and all us regular people are forced to live in the stink, doing that thing where we try to act normal, like we can’t smell anything. Every now and then, seems like the wind blows hard enough, and the stench goes away, but it can be fleeting."
Brilliant column, Leah. I drove by that hideous sign many times in the 60s-70s on my way back and forth from Seattle to Portland, and since then too. I love this passage. It captures beautifully the sisyphean task of fighting extremism (& misogyny too), the sad exhaustion of it all.
"The arrests and the sign coming down felt like one step back, one step forward in the fight against extremism. A terrible dance that never progresses, only stays in the same place."
Love the last lines here.