Dear Friends,

He ran out the CVS on Pike Street, just uphill from the famed fish market. He was a man on a mission, even if his clothes looked like they came from a mission and his skin was leathered from many hours outdoors, unprotected from the sun’s UV radiation. Although my eye only caught his face for a brief moment as he rushed by, his face was haggard, wrinkled and worn by the grates of hard times and hard struggles.

He nearly knocked me over as he passed gripping a bottle of hard liquor in his right hand. What poison that stuff is. Mother and I turned to each other wondering what was happening in that moment. I shrugged, and, giving him the benefit of the doubt, blurted out, “He must be late for his bus.”

A moment after I spoke, two CVS employees came out. They stood at the store’s entrance, confused and bemused. They too shrugged their shoulders, as if to say, “What can you do?” They casually entered the store and at no point were authorities consulted, at least as far as I could tell.

It was pretty clear at that point we had all witnessed the trespassing of the seventh or eighth commandment, depending on which numbering system you use. It was not the only time we witnessed a crime during our short stay in the Emerald City.

It was my fifth visit to Seattle, a town that I prefer during the winter, even though most people enjoy its mild and sunny summers. The city has never impressed me as an interesting city nor as a city with interesting people or good food. The people, in general, are cold and aloof. Even in good times, the city, like Portland, lacks much flavor. Whereas in cultured, interesting cities like New York or New Orleans there is an emperipolesis of distinct neighborhoods within a city, Seattle, outside its international district, is monotone.

In times like now, the city is even more torpid and unfeeling than its usual drab state. Walking through its streets one feels utter emptiness. This condition is nothing like the kenosis described in Philippians and practiced by the Christian mystics. This is an emptiness of something that has never been full. This city has always been empty, and now, its utter emptiness is illuminated by lawlessness and desolation.

The streets of this city are empty and silent. Walking downtown is depressing, as nearly all first floor entrances and windows are either broken or boarded. The contractor responsible for installing plywood recently around town must have made millions. The few people we saw were residents of the many tents that line the city’s streets and dot the pocket parks. They were not as numerous as the tents in Portland, but, unlike Portland, these residents are the only ones who give any semblance of life in this vacated land, whose soul, if it ever had one, was vacated long before I ever first stepped on its paved slopes.

I had hoped to visit one of the famed Amazon Go stores to see how these stores operate, if for novelty’s sake alone. When I arrived at the one near our hotel downtown, it was closed. Like almost all the other businesses and restaurants nearby, it was shuttered with painted plywood, protecting it from the looters who destroyed its stylish windows weeks ago. What a contrast this reality is to the city’s reputation as home of some of the biggest tech companies in the world, home to more than ten Fortune 500 companies. Like Portland, it is a city whose cracks expose a civilization in ruin.

Here are TulaneLSU's Top 10 signs of a civilization in ruin in Seattle

10.

Faith, Hope, and Love,
TulaneLSU

P.S.