Late last night, the superintendent of Portland Public Schools - and presumably other members of the team - made the decision to close all schools and offices today due to a winter storm warning that is in effect. This decision came at a time when, especially for those of us East of the river, there was no snow on the ground at all. For me, this means a welcome day off because I work in a school and have no children, but to many others this means potential hardship, as parents who do not have the day off from work look for a way to care for their children.

​It seems every time there is a weather closure in Portland our decision makers get heavily criticized by people outside of our area and community. People from cities that get "real" snow will look at Portland and say, "they closed schools for an inch of snow? What a bunch of panicking babies!" or something to that effect. But I would ask for a little bit of patience and understanding of the particular circumstances that Portland faces. See, we don't really close our schools because of snow; we close them because of ice.

Now, in most cities where it snows regularly snowfall happens in a normal and predictable pattern. It drops to well below freezing, say 20 degrees Fahrenheit (a good -6 or -7 celsius, for those of you in the rest of the world), big, fluffy snowflakes fall and form nice drifted banks that are a pleasure to behold. If just a few inches fall, they plow it out of the way in the early morning so people can get to school and work, maybe they plow it again in the afternoon so people can get home. It's safe to walk on, and most people know how to drive in it.

​But that's not what happens in Portland. Generally In Portland the temperature never drops convincingly below the freezing point. During the night It will drop to about 30 Fahrenheit (only about -1 celsius) or maybe as low as 28. Then it will snow a little bit, and about an inch or two will stick because the ground has managed to cool enough for that, and in the morning it will look, ever so briefly, like a beautiful winter wonderland!

​But very quickly things start to turn. around midday, the temperature might creep up to 33 or 34, just above the freezing point, and the snow will begin to melt, ever so slightly. But it certainly won't melt all the way, and as the sun sets and the temperature drops down again, all that melted water on top of and inside of the snow will freeze into solid ice. Now instead of that nice, powdery packed snow, we have essentially a layer cake of ice that is very dangerous to walk on or drive on. I mean, I've walked on actual snow, and I've gone snowshoeing in the mountains; it's not so bad. Portland ice is impossible to traverse safely. It's also very difficult to see and appropriately gauge, especially on the roads, and drivers who don't respect the dangers of winter storms in Portland very often hit patches of black ice that cause numerous accidents.

To make maters worse, if we do manage to clear the roads with snow plows and the like, or perhaps all the snow manages to melt during the day, we run into another fun little surprise that the Willamette River Valley has in store for us: a weather phenomenon called "freezing rain". Freezing rain, in fact, is what we're really worried about today, not snow.

 Freezing rain occurs when the temperature at ground level is below freezing, but warm currents several hundred feet up make the air too warm to form actual snowflakes, so what falls instead is liquid rain. As the rain hits the frozen ground, it freezes, forming incredibly treacherous layers of transparent ice, especially on paved surfaces. I've spoken with people from other parts of the country who criticize Portland's weather closure decisions, and when I mention freezing rain many of them haven't even heard of it, let alone understand the dangers it presents.

​So I pose to you, dear reader, the following scenario: you are the superintendent of Portland Public Schools. You have been charged by the people of the city with the solemn task of educating, caring for, and providing for the safety of the district's roughly 49,000 children, and you're being asked to make a call. There's no snow on the ground yet in most of your district, but there definitely is snow in the outer parts of the district (another key thing to remember is that Portland is in a valley, and that means we're surrounded by hills that get hit harder by storms), and meteorologists advising you are 90% sure that while there will not be snow on the ground at the start out the school day, by the middle of the school day we will see a fairly serious ice storm that could strand kids at school and cause a lot of problems and put a lot of people at risk. The decision not to close schools has caused this to happen in the past, and in fact just last year the district decided not to close schools and a winter storm did blow in and strand  children at school and caused accidents, etc. etc.

So you're 90% sure - or heck, let's say just 80% sure - that this will happen. Do you close the schools? Well, the superintendent said yes today, and I'm not about to say that decision was wrong. You're welcome to come to your own conclusions, but please consider the whole situation.

Best wishes,
​Sillius Buns

A few weeks ago there was a thread on /r/christianity that asked its readers whether they felt that they had ever been visited by an angel without knowing it. There have certainly been a number of times in my life where I have felt, at the very least, that I had met the exact right person at the exact right time, but none more so than a young man that I met one night almost 15 years ago.

I've only recently started telling this story to anyone, and even many of you who are close to me may not know this, but one night, back when I was 12, a friend and I were beaten up for being white. We were walking back to his house after visiting a mutual friend, and it had started to get dark. As we walked along, we saw a small group of black teenagers having a conversation on the sidewalk. We didn't really think anything of it, and kept on walking and talking to each other. As we got close, the group decided to move and block our path. They started laughing at us, calling us names, and refused to move aside and allow us to pass. We attempted to cross the street and find another way to get where we were going, but the group decided to follow us, and when they saw that there were no other people around they attacked us, beat us, and called us all manner of racial slurs as we attempted to flee. I was bigger than my friend, and tried to take the brunt of the blows myself, but they made sure to spread them out between the two of us. Eventually we made it to a brighter area with a major street, and they finally relented and ran off. It was an incredibly harrowing experience, and one that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

To my surprise - and incredible fortune - we actually made it through the incident fairly unscathed. My parents took me to the hospital, but I turned out to just have a bruise or two; nothing too serious. Looking back on it, I don't think they really wanted to hurt us, or had anything against us personally. I've made it through my adolescence now, and I understand how turbulent those feelings can be, and can only imagine how it must feel to be a black adolescent in America, and experience the habitual and institutional racism that they do. They were angry, we were there, and we symbolized everything they were angry about.

Far more worrying than any physical harm they may have done was the potential psychological harm. Remember, I was just 12 years old, and I was scared. I was worried that it might happen again; that another black person might attack me for the color of my skin.

Not more than two weeks later I was walking alone along the edge of a park in my own neighborhood, and again it had started to get dark. Up ahead I saw a lone black teenager walking toward me on the sidewalk. He appeared, I think it is fair to say, to be the culmination of every stereotype there is: he was wearing baggy clothing, a large black jacket, nice well-kept sneakers, and a beanie, and he walked with a bit of a swagger. I'm fairly sure he even had a few gold chains around his neck (though my mind may be exaggerating the story just a little bit).

Just an aside, to be ultra fair, I was a walking stereotype myself, ha ha! As you imagine him, I want you to also imagine me as the epitome of the chubby white nerd.

Anyway I saw him walking toward me, and I felt myself tense up. I started thinking about perhaps turning around, or crossing to the other side of the street. I was worried about what might happen. I was afraid of him. I could have done any of those things, but in that moment I told myself that everything would be fine, and I kept walking, my heart pounding in my chest.

Just before we passed each other, I watched this young man stick his hand out, palm up, facing me. We made eye contact, and he just sort of looked at me expectantly, without saying a word. I realized what was going on, and stuck my hand out just in time. He took my hand, gave me a brief but firm handshake, nodded at me, and went on his way.

In that moment, all of my fear and anxiety just melted away. I understood, fully, that what had happened to me had been the action of a few individuals; that it was not reflective of the whole. I cannot possibly tell you how grateful I am to that stranger.

It's easy to see how the first incident might easily have turned me into a racist. I could have allowed it to confirm the stereotypes that I had been fed by TV news, and withdrawn myself in fear of people who were different from me. If I hadn't already been fortunate enough to have parents that raised me to respect and honor human diversity, I may well have been lost before that man even came along. Instead, here I am, an advocate for love, equity, and the dignity for all people. If I have entertained angels without knowing it, certainly that man was one of them.