I think it's important to draw a distinction between feeling that one's belongings are safe, and feeling that one's self is safe. Most of my staff mutters privately that my husband and I live in a 'bad' neighborhood. Yes, I've had my car window broken, and the same with my husband's truck. Yes, there's a schizophrenic up the street who wanders up and has conversations with the streetlight when he's off his meds.

But do I feel safe? Yes. I know just about everybody in a six-block radius. My neighbors know who belongs here and who is here to make trouble. I could bang on any door here and yell "help" and be let in (even by the schizophrenic; we know his mother). Will I walk around after dark without a male escort? Absolutely. Will I leave anything expensive out on my porch? Heck, no.

Life is too short to live in fear. I don't believe in taking foolish risks (such as driving under the influence or jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, or smoking) but I refuse to live in a walled enclave. I believe that so many people who do choose to live behind walls and bars or in gated communities do so in order that they never have to look upon poverty.

By the way, if you want a good idea of relative risks, just fill out a life insurance policy application.

Oregon isn't on the above travel list, so I won't give details, but I've never gone anywhere where I felt afraid or threatened.