Tag Portland Oregon

Note: This is the first of several articles about Superheroes Anonymous 4, a gathering of Real Life Superheroes being held in Portland, Oregon. This series, written by Treesong, is a collaborative project of Heroes in the Night and Song of the Trees.
I’ve arrived safe and sound in Portland, Oregon for Superheroes Anonymous 4. The conference really doesn’t get started until tomorrow, so I don’t have much to report yet. I did, however, want to write a brief entry about my arrival and first impressions.
When my bus arrived in town, I took Portland’s lovely Max Light Rail out to a spot that would be more convenient for meeting up with the others. Zetaman met me in the parking lot of the Max station, and we went together to our first event: an informal barbeque and meet-up.
I feel the night went well. We spent a little time discussing logistics for the next two days, but mostly we just socialized and got to know each other better. I’d never met any of the others in person before, so I feel that eating together, and relaxing together, and being wacky and wild and real with each other, was a good way for me to start getting to know them.
I can already tell that I’m going to enjoy this weekend and enjoy working side by side with these people. Not everyone was able to make it into town in time for the barbeque, so there are still more people for me to meet. Even so, I like the fact that we all have serious reasons for being Real Life Superheroes, yet we can all have fun together too. It’s good team bonding, and good preparation for the coming two days of very active working and learning.
With that said, I’m off to bed. Look forward to more news once the conference has officially started!
 

ORTLAND, Ore.- It’s another dark, damp night in Portland, and for many homeless people, the bloom is off the City of Roses as they shiver out another night of unseasonably cold temperatures under bridges, in doorways and on park benches
In what many consider the bad part of town, one man steps from the shadows, armed with a stun gun, a collapsible baton, an ear-piercing air horn and pepper spray. A large white “Z” covers his tight-fitting shirt, and he steps through puddles in thick black boots.
A full-length black overcoat, fingerless black gloves, skull and crossbones belt buckle and dark goggles complete his “intimidating” outfit.
His name is Zetaman, and he’s looking for homeless people.
When he spots a group of transients, he makes his move.
“Do any of you folks need extra gloves or anything,” Zetaman asks the group as he pulls items from a backpack.
To homeless people, Zetaman is not a threat. He’s a hero, maybe even a superhero. And his fame is spreading.
Zetaman, whose real identity is a secret, is packing gloves, sandwiches and other items that will give some homeless Portland residents a degree of comfort on a cold night. The other items are for self-defense. Every superhero needs a utility belt.
Zetaman says he is not really a superhero, but he does take his cues from the superheroes in the comic books he loves.
“I like Superman and I like Zorro so I thought, ‘Wow, combine the two,’ ” Zetaman told KATU News on a night when we tagged along as he handed out food and clothing items to the homeless.
He has also given up buying his beloved comics in order to finance his good works on Portland’s streets. Some of the money goes directly into the hands of the homeless.
“I want to help because I grew up poor and I grew up starving and stuff,” Zetaman said. “I’m an adult now, I have a job and I just want to help where I can.”
One homeless man received a pair of gloves to ward off the cold. Others gratefully accepted chicken sandwiches. More and more, Zetaman is receiving recognition. He has an audio blog, MySpace page and several videos of his exploits have turned up on YouTube.
Citizens pose for cell phone camera photos with Zetaman, and homeless people reach out to shake his hand and thank him.
“I think anyone who wants to go in this community and do good work, more power to them.” says one man who gives Zetaman a hearty high-five. “I love you, Zetaman, you rock,” he says.
The costume didn’t seem unusual to another admirer. “Looks like a normal every-day goth so it’s kind of cool,” the man said. In a city known for “weird,” Zetaman doesn’t turn too many heads, at least not any more.
“I don’t wear a mask or a cape. I tried that the first time and got in trouble with police so as of that, never again,” Zetaman says of his initial foray into citizen crime fighting.
“I really don’t want to die or anything,” he says, explaining how he shifted to helping the homeless. Now, he’s becoming part of Portland lore.
Zetaman is not alone in his endeavors. In other cities across the nation, other self-made superheroes have stepped up to fight crime, help the homeless or contribute their own special brand of civic improvement.
They have names like Apocalypse Meow, Phantom Zero and Agent Null.
Zetaman says he’s met with some of these other solo civic social fighters and an alliance may be in the works.
“I’m not really a superhero because I don’t have any powers or anything,” Zetaman says as he continues his rounds, looking for more people to help.
The buzz on the meaner streets of Portland says otherwise.
Perhaps, one day, there may even be a Zetaman comic book.
http://www.katu.com/news/specialreports/18335494.html

Originally posted: http://www.sunnyrainshine.com/index.php?/words/zetaman–an-unknown-superhero/
By Simone
Moving to Portland required some adjusting.
Here baristas are respected like wine connoisseurs. Recycling is more serious than knowing the difference between plastic and glass. A tattoo can mean everything or nothing at all. Home owning is hip. Home renovation is even hipper. Anything bought second hand is better than new. And homeless people symbolize the city just as much as all of the above do.
It’s sad to admit, but at first I was startled. Not since my childhood in New York City had I been around so many homeless people. Surely they would try to take something from me, I thought. And so, I always had an eye out. I planned my walks home around streetlights and late night crowds. I pretended to be on the phone. I did the pitiful money search pat or the apologetic shrug and headshake at the mere glimpse of eye contact. But then, an even sadder thing to admit, I simply forgot about them. They began to go by unnoticed and ignoring their pleads had become as routine as walking to Stumptown on my way to work. So naturally the moment I heard of Zetaman I was intrigued. Zetaman is a self-proclaimed Superhero who traveled the streets of Portland to help the homeless.
I wanted to know who this man was. I wanted to know how he managed the strength to help day after day. I wanted to know where he hung. What he was into. Did his family know? Just how seriously did he take the title Superhero? And perhaps above all, I wanted to know how this man had built up the courage to actually wear a Superhero outfit, complete with a cape and goggles. Was it made out of spandex? Did he have several? Did he have an arch nemesis and a calling symbol? My questions were ready. I found his contact information and quickly sent out an email hoping for a meeting. Zetaman had an email address. How modern.
A couple hours passed and no response. Clearly I was getting too used to the immediacy of offices email responses. I waited longer. With my impatience I began to delve deeper into my background research. Zetaman is a 30-year-old man who lives in Portland. He maintains his daytime job and travels through the streets at night to hand out blankets, at times even giving the shoes off of his own feet. He certainly did not seem like one to let messages go unreturned. After a couple of silent months passed I begin to think differently. Soon I stumbled upon an article that spoke of his desire to remain private. His work, Zetaman said, was done out of goodwill and so he’d like to avoid any media attention that might come his way. Well then what about the cape? The goggles? And why go out of your way to proclaim yourself a Superhero? Who, above the age of seven, would say and wear the things this man does and not want any attention in return?
And then I remembered where I am. I’m in Portland. A city whose motto is to stay weird and this certainly fits that bill.
I decided to take a different approach. I would seek out the people he has helped, rather than him directly. I would go looking for the Superhero. On my first outing I walked directly up to a shelter and began asking if anyone had met this mysterious man in a cape. Within minutes Bill, who worked at the center, came outside. Helpful, I thought. A minute into our conversation I realized if I didn’t make some immediate reference to the fact that I have a bank account, an apartment and am not currently on any prescribed medications, I would soon be shuffled into the building behind him and placed away somewhere amongst the masses. I left Bill. More people, more places. I kept explaining. Yet still, no one seemed to know anything about this Zetaman. It seems I was either on the wrong side of town, in the wrong groups, asking the wrong questions or just as crazy as Bill had pinned me to be. I took a step away.
Maybe the allure of Zetaman is just as good as his actuality. After all, why did I feel the need to see, touch or question him senseless in order to believe in his existence? Couldn’t I find the little reserve of faith and imagination from my childhood? A little belief in the unbelievable. Or had I drained it all like an unsealed tub?
After sometime now, I’m happy to be left thinking that some things are meant to be weird, some things are meant to be secret and some things are meant to be believed in. And so I’ll let Portland remain, along with all its inhabitants, as it wishes to remain: unquestionably weird.