Listening to America

Woman takes journey to capture 100 voices in 100 days

By Rob Bednark
The Portland Upside
September 2009

Photo by Hamid Shabatta Bennett

Inspired by Studs Terkel, Mary Clare traveled the country and recorded American’s views on the topic of change.

After the 2008 presidential election last November, change seemed to be on the minds of many Americans. Mary Clare, graduate psychology professor at Lewis & Clark College in Portland, found herself thinking about change as a central theme of the campaign, regardless of party affiliation. She wondered what people meant by the word “change.” The view presented by the media was one thing, but what would a cross section of Americans say when asked about the meaning of change?

In August, several months before the election, she had made a decision to work only half time during the 2008-2009 school term. She couldn’t articulate why she was cutting back, or why she needed the time, only that she needed to do it. Then after analyzing the campaign and economic downturn with her students in a diversity class, an idea for a project began percolating.

Mary remembers being profoundly moved some 30 years ago when she first encountered a book by Studs Terkel. He had a way of capturing the voices of ordinary Americans, real people, and presenting them to readers in a captivating and unadorned way. He focused on what people said, rather than on opinions and interpretations of what they expressed.

Inspired by Terkel, Mary decided to take her own journey to capture the voices of Americans. For her project she chose the first 100 days of the Obama administration and she set a goal of interviewing 100 people.

On December 31, Mary sent an email to friends and relatives announcing her plans. She asked for referrals to any acquaintances, interview subjects whom she shouldn’t miss. She also asked if they knew of anyone who would be willing to let her roll out her sleeping bag for a night. Within two weeks she had offers for places to stay all over the country and a list of people to interview.
Mary named her project “EX:Change09”, capturing the topic of “change” and the “exchange” of ideas. The two dots in the colon are red and blue, symbolizing Republicans and Democrats; the letters and numbers are purple, symbolizing the color-mixing of red and blue.

She chose three questions “general enough to allow for any given respondent to take the conversation whatever way seems right to them:”

What does change mean to you, right now?

In the midst of change, what is important to have remain the same?

What will change look like—what will you recognize as solid evidence that change has happened?

On February 2, Mary hit the road, alone in her Mini Cooper. Over the next 50 days she headed south into California, across the southern states to Georgia, up the eastern coast to Delaware, and across the upper half of the country back to Portland, traveling through 28 states, logging 10,000 miles.

Along the way she videotaped over 50 interviews, some of them prearranged, and others spontaneous, often in coffee shops. She deliberately talked with people from all walks of life: rich, poor, homeless, seven-year-olds, 80-somethings, and Americans of varying political affiliations, religious beliefs, and ethnic and cultural backgrounds.

In a coffee shop in California, Todd, a 25-year-old senior at San Diego State University, took a break from pouring over his finance text to talk about change.

“I don’t really know why I changed. I mean, all through foster care and even adoption the adults all said that I would never be anything but a loser. But here’s the thing: I’m not living that prediction. I have changed and I’m committed to building a real life for myself.”

In a Tucson, Arizona coffee shop a 65-year-old woman named Cheri agreed to an interview.
Cheri wants a government for the people, not for business or for bigger government. She wants freedom. A retired law enforcement officer who’s lived in Tucson for 55 years, she raised her children to be bilingual and learned Spanish herself because “it’s only right to have both languages if you want to do any job well in this city.”

Cheri is also a practicing Muslim, raised in the mosque by her Iranian father and Euro-American mother. After 9/11, she stopped wearing hijab—the traditional head covering worn by many Muslim women—because of fear for her own safety. Three years ago, Cheri still didn’t feel safe enough to wear hijab, but she was tired of hiding her identity, and wanted to do something to symbolize her devotion to God and her hope “for all people to be well and at peace.” She then showed Mary a tattoo that means “Islam.”

While getting her things together to leave a coffee shop on the banks of the Guadalupe River in Texas, Mary overheard David and Tommy talking about their Sunday school class. They were willing to stop their conversation for a minute to talk about change.

oth devout Christians, they spoke with pride of their church community in Kerrville, Texas. They spoke of the 200-300 in their youth ministry and the evidence in a recent personality inventory that these kids are ready to be active in making their community a more peaceful and kind place.

Both men emphasized the importance of family and the necessity of shifting values from greed and materialism to concern for one another and for the environment. Tommy, the older of the two, said it was time for Americans to get over being hung up on our differences and to start working together on the urgent matters facing our country.

“We’ve been majoring in the minors and not in the majors,” Tommy said.

A white man in Jackson, Mississippi, spoke specifically of the noise of dueling ideologies. People on both sides are bound and determined not to give an inch, to the point of sacrificing the well-being of the people of the country, just to save their rigid positions and inflated pride. Other Americans down the west coast and across the southwest and Texas mentioned this frustration.

In Georgia, Mary interviewed a woman who was a McCain supporter. The main thing this woman wanted? To see Americans stop demonizing one another, to be in dialogue and to listen.

Four hours later, Mary was in another Georgia town, interviewing a 17-year-old Obama supporter and daughter of ex-hippies. This teenager echoed the same sentiment as the other Georgian, that Americans stop putting others down, listen more and find more understanding.
Two young women who worked at the Starbucks in York, Nebraska spoke with Mary. They spoke about the media’s habit of exaggerating the negative and how that relates to change.

“We get the wrong picture and start thinking no one can be trusted and that the country is doomed,” said the first woman, an immigrant from Eastern Europe.

“Good luck,” the second and quieter woman said. “We need this—to know what Americans are really thinking.”

Mary did over 50 more interviews with people around Portland and in Washington, for a total of 105 interviews in 100 days. What does she take away from the project?

A number of themes emerge from the interviews, including kindness, resiliency, realism, a wait-and-see attitude, more willingness to compromise and listen than we’ve been led to believe, and people’s desire to play active roles in positive solutions.

Currently working with volunteers to transcribe the interviews, Mary is considering making them available in a book, and expanding the project’s website. She notes that EX:Change09 is not hers, but has a life of its own, guided by the ideas and participation of everyone who gets involved.

Along the way Mary noticed she had become enthusiastic about using the term “American.” What she found in the voices of the people heartened and encouraged her. She says that Americans have “more strong places to build on than we realize.”

In the 105 voices, Mary found a fundamental intelligence, an intelligence we don’t hear unless we ask questions and listen.

_____

Find out more about Mary Clare’s EX:Change09 interview project on her website,
www.exchange09.com Portions of this article are excerpted from Mary’s blog, www.exchange09.blogspot.com She can be contacted by email at info@exchange09.com

Rob Bednark spent over 60 hours last year interviewing 27 people around Portland, just for the fun of it, and was amazed at what he learned. rbednark@gmail.com


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A wealth of flowers

Story and photo by Carrie Ure
The Portland Upside
September 2009

Jan Behrs stands in her garden of sunflowers, one of the many kinds of flowers she sells at her old-fashioned, honor-system farm stand.

“It starts out as a hobby but it becomes a way of life,” according to gardener Jan Behrs of Portland, Oregon.

For 25 years, she has tended two-thirds of an acre near the historic southwest neighborhood of Multnomah Village. Once home to Agnes and Florien Cadoneau of the Alpenrose Dairy clan, her shy white clapboard farmhouse hides its perky front porch behind a pair of PeeGee tree hydrangeas loaded with masses of creamy blooms.

A transplant from the weather extremes of the Midwest, Jan moved to Portland in 1980, shortly after the Mount St. Helens eruption.

“We traded tornadoes for volcanoes,” she quips.

Raised on 15 acres north of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, by an organic farmer who aspired to grow French wine grapes, Jan searched for her own impossible dream. When she first saw the suburban Portland property, replete with tangled blackberry thickets, tall grass and run-down farmhouse, it was love at first sight.

“I don’t know about the house, but I want that land,” she told her husband.

They moved in and began work in the yard immediately, putting off the house remodel until they had constructed raised beds for vegetables and ornamentals, two children’s gardens for their son and daughter, and a field of heirloom daffodils divided from those originally planted by a Cadoneau daughter.

Although I’ve lived in the neighborhood off and on for 16 years, I met Jan for the first time last week. I’d left my computer to get some fresh air and a change of scenery.

Driving through the neighborhood I register a deep sense of sadness and frustration about my futile job search, dwindling bank account and the current state of world affairs. I’m having a bad day.

As I round the corner onto my street I see the cheerful white shed and hand-painted sign next to Jan’s house. She’s converted a garage into a farm stand and today it’s brimming with bright yellow sunflowers. I find myself pulling over despite my self-absorbed state of anxiety and fear. It’s just so wonderful to see so many flowers!

I choose a gorgeous bouquet of purple and yellow, drop a five dollar bill into the box and head back to my car. Just then I notice a figure stooped in the massive sunflower-filled garden. I venture into the yard and call out, “Yoo hoo!”

Jan hops up out of a flowerbed as I reach out my hand.

“Hi. I’m Carrie, your neighbor...” I venture timidly.

“Oh, hello, I’m...dirty,” Jan says with a smile, apologetically shaking a mud-caked gardening glove from her right hand. We laugh, the ice broken, and I know that, although I’m trespassing, I’ll be forgiven.

“I’ve lived in the neighborhood for years,” I start. “I don’t know how many times I’ve stopped to buy a bouquet. Maybe dozens. But I want you to know that I’ve never needed one more than today. I just want to thank you...”

My voice cracks with emotion and I find myself beginning to cry in the company of the kindly stranger with a quick smile, easy laugh and dirty overalls.

A few days later I’m seated on an overstuffed sofa in her cozy living room, with its brick fireplace, old-fashioned built-ins, and art prints of calla lilies lining the walls. Her black cat Zinnia settles on my lap, purring. I ask Jan what motivates her to spend all her free time in her garden, rain or shine, only to sell her beautiful bouquets on the honor system for two dollars per two-dozen-bunch.

Jan’s answer is so straightforward it surprises me.

“Here’s the deal: it’s flowers. It’s hard to have enough to pick for the house without denuding the garden. My goal was to be able to pick an armload of daffodils to have indoors. That’s why I started dividing them.

“There needs to be abundance. There are so many things that we don’t have enough of. I can’t eat my fill of chocolate. We can never have enough money. To create abundance I could do it with flowers and when I had enough for armloads for myself, I thought, ‘I bet there are others who don’t have a big yard.’”

It turns out Jan perpetuates a long-standing Multnomah Village tradition. Carl Lehrer, her first neighbor and lord of a flourishing field of spring yellows, had an honor system farm stand for as long as anyone could remember. For years he bought her daffodils, two dollars per two dozen. He liked to mix them in for the color variation they provided in his bouquets. The enterprise augmented his income as a deliveryman, and he eventually saved enough to take his wife on a cruise. After Carl died, Jan picked up the slack, retaining his pricing from over two decades ago.

“They have always been two dollars per two dozen. I can’t charge more because I’m so math challenged. They’ll always be two dollars. If I sell them for two dollars, then anybody can have a huge bouquet of sunshine.

“I don’t have wealth in any other way but I do have flowers.”

Flowers, even though a small thing, make a real difference according to Jan. She remembers telling her husband that it didn’t matter that she could grow a whole field of them, she still appreciated him bringing her a bouquet.

“Spring in Portland is gloomy. These flowers are a ray of sunshine. I know how they pick me up. They’re no problem to raise. It’s an easy thing.”

A true-blue farmer, Jan reminisces about her years as the Daffodil Lady. She even speaks easily of the time, several years back, when money disappeared from her cash box one day and then overnight somebody stole all the flowers! She tossed it off as an “opportunistic crime,” installed a locking box the next season and has never had a recurrence of the problem. Often finding IOU’s in the box and notes with dollar bills on her front porch, Jan takes it all in stride.

“What a testament to the fact that local community is thriving in the big city,” I offer. “Imagine! An old-fashioned honor system farm stand still works, right here in suburban Portland.”

To that, Jan just smiles, clearly comfortable making a difference, one armload of flowers at a time.

_____

Carrie Ure is a freelance writer and Copy Editor for The Portland Upside. She blogs about everyday spirituality at www.carrieure.wordpress.com

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Homeless man uses creativity for cash

Story and photo by Briena Sash
The Portland Upside
September 2009

Melvin McAffe uses his origami skills to help support himself on the streets of Portland.

Melvin has lived on the streets of Portland for ten years. For many, the mention of a homeless man might stir up images of a street-corner panhandler, perhaps an alcoholic, a can-collector, or maybe a person holding a cardboard sign, the message Hungry, Vietnam Vet, or God Bless, etched in black Sharpie ink. There are many stereotypes, but Melvin fits none of them.

Melvin does not panhandle, he doesn’t drink, and he has never held a cardboard sign. Melvin makes origami.

I meet him recently at Coffee Time on Northwest 21st. He greets me outside, pulling up on a bike decorated with stickers, a flag and a toy truck zip-tied to the frame. He locks my bike to his and directs me inside to a dim private booth decorated with murals resembling stained glass windows.

“This is my spot,” Melvin tells me. “I call it my office.”

Mel’s origami workshop certainly looks like an office, with piles of bright paper scattered about, a laptop and an almost-full coffee cup sitting on the table.

Melvin is now fifty-three. Growing up in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California, he joined the Marines as a teenager. Shortly thereafter, he found himself in a hospital in Okinawa, Japan, with a broken leg hoisted in a sling.

“A little Okinawa woman came in to care for me,” he explains. “She was so little, she couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. She was so sweet. She thought I was rather cute looking… about nineteen with my blond hair and my blue eyes,” Melvin recalls fondly.

During his eight weeks in the hospital, the woman brought scratch paper pre-cut into squares with which to teach Melvin origami. He shipped his origami creations back home to his grandparents, kindling a life-long passion for folding paper.

After returning to the States and suffering a series of unfortunate consequences, including the loss of his job and the death of his wife, Melvin found himself in and out of homelessness. But throughout trying times he continued to focus his energy on his paper-folding hobby. While living in Berkeley, California, he even earned the nickname “Origami.”

“I’d get paper out of a recycle bin at a paper store,” he recalls, “I was calling it ‘recycled origami.’”

Eventually, unsatisfied with his life in Berkeley, Melvin joined a friend on a bicycle trip up north. He rode a Gary Fisher mountain bike to Washington, turned around, and in Astoria decided to follow the US-30 sign to Portland.

“I liked it here. People are nice; a lot better than California,” he explains. Melvin has lived in Portland ever since.

On a typical day, Melvin wakes up and brews himself a cup of coffee on his white gas camp stove, then meticulously packs his camping gear into his bike trailer.

“Everything goes a certain way,” he explains.

He then sets out to find some breakfast.

“I usually go to Freddie’s and get a pint of milk and something sweet,” he says, “I don’t go to places that serve breakfast [to the homeless]. I usually get sick because of my medicine.” Melvin suffers from serious illnesses, including cancer.

After breakfast Melvin parks at Coffee Time to get to work folding origami. When he has enough pieces completed, he bikes a couple of blocks to Trader Joe’s where he offers passers-by his original paper artwork neatly displayed on a Tupperware lid. He usually sells at least one a day, sometimes two or three.

Melvin’s favorite design, which he calls an ornament, is a crane sitting atop a ball of blooming flowers, inside which another tiny crane dangles from a thread. It takes Melvin one hour to make and sells for ten dollars.

“Sometimes people bring me a sandwich and juice and I give them a few dollars off,” he says.

He also creates designs based on individual requests. A patron once commissioned him to make an origami cross. City Bikes also displays an origami bicycle made by Melvin.

“If you can make a drawing or describe a shape, we can figure out something to make for you,” his web page suggests.

A friend, William Price, built a page for him and hosts Melvin on his site under his “friends” section. The page, simply entitled “Melvin McAffe,” greets visitors with a picture of Melvin that winks.

“To make it through the winter,” it reads, “I am saving up for a good 4 season tent… I try not to beg or ask for money because I repair bicycles and make cool origami.”

Two years ago, a man from Holland ordered six pieces of origami from the web page. The man paid fifteen dollars each instead of the ten dollars Melvin was asking and in addition, sent him a one hundred dollar check after receiving the paper creations.

“They were ornaments,” Melvin explains. “Each one was in a different Christmas color.”

Although origami is Melvin’s main source of income, it’s not the only one. Having grown up in his grandpa’s machine shop, he’s also an incredible mechanic, often fixing a stalled car or broken bike to make a little extra cash. Recently a man with a stalled truck was referred to Melvin, who fixed the vehicle after discovering the spark plugs were replaced in improper sequence.

“I got ten bucks and a cup of coffee,” Melvin tells me excitedly.

He admits it’s not enough to sustain himself, but when asked why he doesn’t panhandle, Melvin replies sternly, “I don’t like it. I like to have something to give back.”

Although Melvin won’t ask for money, he receives plentiful good tidings from caring individuals. Not only does he receive occasional meals and coffee, but also origami paper, an occasional gift card to an art store, and even a mini paper cutter.

“This thing comes in so handy.” He holds up the orange hand tool, a big smile spread across his face.

According to Melvin, people even salvage old wrapping paper for him to use.

“It has to be a good gauge,” he explains. “It tears too easily if it’s too thin.”

I watch Melvin work as we talk. With a bottle of Elmer’s, a pair of scissors and a couple of worn and weathered hands, he carefully folds, bends and creases ordinary paper into beautiful works of art. Various people stop to comment and several friends greet him warmly. I offer him a coffee, but he refuses.

“Thanks,” he tells me, “I already bought one. This is the hard part.”

His hands are shaking as he prepares his needle and thread to attach a dangling crane to the center of his masterpiece.

Melvin completes a beautiful ornament with ornate flowers blooming in blues and greens with matching foil centers.

“People like the paper with patterns and bright colors,” he tells me.

Holding up his finished piece for me to see, Melvin’s face displays a look of true satisfaction, the look of a man proud of his work. This truly creative man has invented his own way of survival. He places the beautiful ornament in the Tupperware container with the others, mounts his bike, and heads for Trader Joe’s.

_____

Email Melvin at melorigami@gmail.com or visit him online at waptek.white.prohosting.com/melvin.htm

Briena Sash is a longtime community volunteer, travel photographer and photojournalist intimately involved in photographing, chronicling, and befriending the Portland homeless community. Read her blog at www.streetquotes.wordpress.com

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From the Editors

By Sara & Rob Bednark
The Portland Upside
September 2009

“What has inspired you lately?

There were many answers to this question last night as we walked along Waterfront Park in downtown Portland (“Voices from the street”).

When we ask the question of ourselves, our thoughts turn to The Portland Upside. Over the last seven months we’ve been inspired in numerous ways while working on this paper.

First and foremost we have been amazed at the touching and heartfelt stories that have emerged from the streets of the Portland metro area.

In “Hearts, minds and bodies nurtured at p:ear,” Faye paints a picture of an organization that really cares about giving dignity to homeless youth. Briena helps us see that the stereotype of the homeless doesn’t fit every person living on the street (“Homeless man uses creativity for cash”). Mary Clare (“Listening to America”) inspires us with her initiative for going out, listening to people, and finding the threads that unite us all.

We are continuously inspired by the many volunteer writers who donate their time and talent to reporting the positive news of Portland.

Nicole has written for all five of our issues on a variety of topics, and this month she writes about a personal experience in “Yard sale brings in more than just money.” Our copy editor and occasional contributor, Carrie, has been here from the beginning, encouraging us and volunteering many hours to make the paper shine. Her story of an encounter with the Daffodil Lady (“A wealth of flowers”) inspires us to plant more flowers next year.

All the feedback we’ve received on behalf of The Portland Upside inspires us to continue to search for articles that celebrate the positive side of the Portland metro area. You can now go to the new “Articles” section of our website and comment on any of the individual stories that have been published. Or feel free to add a comment about what has inspired you to this month’s “Voices around town” section.

Inspiration is contagious!

_____

Contact us at editors@portlandupside.com or 503-663-1526 and visit us online at www.PortlandUpside.com

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Submission of the Month

The Portland Upside
September 2009

Yin & Yang

Woodblock print by Brian Lockyear
Willamette Heights neighborhood, Portland, Oregon

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Hearts, minds and bodies nurtured at p:ear

Story and photo by Faye Powell
The Portland Upside
September 2009

p:ear gives homeless youth like Letti a space to grow creatively, intellectually and emotionally.

If home is where the heart is, what happens to the heart when one is homeless?

Seven years ago, Joy Cartier, Beth Burns and Pippa Arend had a vision of a safe haven for homeless youth in Portland that would address the needs of the total person—heart, mind and body. The three committed teachers from the alternative Greenhouse School were unwilling to give up on their homeless students when the school lost its funding. They also realized that education was only part of the solution. So together they raised $2,000—enough for one month’s rent—and p:ear (project: education, art, recreation) was born.

Associate director Cartier succinctly sums up p:ear’s innovative approach: “No one can do fractions all day.”

Today the trio’s vision is realized in an open, spacious and well-lighted building in Portland’s Old Town. Here homeless youth gather to create, study, and find emotional support, and encouragement from staff, adult mentors and one another. Daylight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the art gallery. At the back of the gallery a darkroom and music room beckon. Adjacent to the gallery is a large space with tables and easels for art projects, a kitchen, library and comfortable reading chairs. A staircase leads up to an open office area where a staff of six takes care of administrative functions.

Formerly a doggie daycare, the p:ear facility was completely renovated by SERA Architects as their first 1% Solution project, a national initiative that challenges firms to donate one per cent of their staff to pro bono work. SERA gave time, energy, and resources to designing and furnishing the entire space. The firm donated much more than one per cent, according to Cartier.

Each day an average of 45 clients between the ages of 15 and 24 come to paint, draw, photograph, play the piano, read, work on their GED (General Educational Development) certification, or just hang out. Approximately 350 young people participate in p:ear’s programs throughout the year. Local artists, photographers, and teachers mentor the youth. Every two months the gallery mounts a new exhibit of youth art alongside a featured professional artist. p:ear participates in First Thursday, and the proud young artists receive 90 per cent of the proceeds of their sold art.

Nutrition is another important aspect of addressing the total needs of the young homeless. Some of Portland’s best restaurants have committed to providing food, enabling p:ear to feed the kids at least two meals a day. Additionally, both the Oregon Culinary Institute and the Western Culinary Institute donate time to teach the young participants how to prepare nutritional meals. Once they get their food handler’s license, the youth can work in the p:ear kitchen.

“Not having a home is not the major problem of homelessness,” says Cartier. “The major problem of homelessness as we’ve seen in young people is how they feel about themselves.”

My concrete heart I have found
There it lay beneath your feet on the ground

This poem, penned by Letti, a 20-year-old Alaska native, accompanies one of her paintings on exhibit in the gallery. Raised by her artist father, she is part Yupik, part Scottish. Letti says she left Alaska a couple of years ago because neither she nor her family felt accepted by the community there. She moved to Seattle first, then to Portland last year because she felt she would have more opportunities to pursue her art here. Since coming to p:ear, Letti says she has received much emotional support as well as opportunities to develop herself as an artist and work toward her high school diploma. Someday she hopes to become a social worker.

“It’s kind of like a family here,” Letti says. “The staff and volunteers accept you for who you are. I lost my ability to create art for a while. They [p:ear] are like the family I never had. My dad raised my sister and me singly so there wasn’t much maternal support … it’s like having so many moms here. They are awesome!”

The backgrounds of homeless youth and the circumstances that lead to their homelessness are diverse.

A girl lives in an apartment with her mother and attends school, getting by even though her mother is a heroin addict. Eventually, however, the mother stops going to work and falls behind with the rent. Finally one day, she comes home to find her mother and all of their belongings gone.

A boy barely makes it out of middle school and has never been to high school. Since the age of eight or nine he has run drugs for his mother. When she is arrested and sent to prison, he finds himself on the street.

An honor student and captain of the soccer team until he comes out to his parents as gay, a young man lands on the streets when they kick him out of the house and refuse to allow him to return.

Some kids end up in foster care where their experiences range from very good to worse than where they started. Even still, the foster system provides for them only until their 18th birthday. Because most at-risk 18-year-olds are not mature or skilled enough to function as adults, p:ear includes youth up to the age of 24.

The actual number of homeless kids in the Portland area is unknown. There are only 80 shelter beds for them in the city. Most sleep under bridges, in doorways or abandoned cars, two or three together for safety. Others occasionally stay with a friend or relative for a day or two.

“Imagine a war zone where just surviving is your concern,” Cartier says.

While p:ear cannot provide housing and other pressing needs of these young people, it can help them develop self-confidence as they participate in a community where they are supported and encouraged to grow creatively, intellectually and emotionally.

p:ear receives no public funding. Like other charitable organizations, it has seen monetary donations decline in the current economic downturn. There has been, however, a tremendous increase in material donations.

As Cartier says, “p:ear has become the queen of the in-kind donation.”

Volunteerism has also increased during these difficult economic times. Indeed, volunteers are the backbone of the organization. In addition to artist and teacher mentors, other volunteers bring in their own hobbies and projects to share. Volunteers also pick up food and supplies and take kids on recreational outings.

Cartier would like to see p:ear—with its unique way of putting education, art and recreation all together under one roof—become a national model for programs that work with homeless youth.
By addressing the combined needs of their hearts, minds and bodies, p:ear truly helps homeless kids build self-esteem, learn skills, successfully transition into adulthood and make choices formerly beyond their reach.

_____

p:ear is located at 338 NW Sixth Avenue. The gallery is open Tuesday through Thursday 10 a.m. - 1 p.m. as well as 6-9 p.m. on First Thursdays. For more information, go to www.pearmentor.org or contact Joy Cartier at 503-228-6677.

Faye Powell has master’s degrees in library science and anthropology and writes both fiction and nonfiction. She may be contacted via phaysee1@gmail.com

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School on Saturday?

Saturday Academy satisfies the hunger of students eager to learn

By Sara Bednark and Amee Pacheco
The Portland Upside
September 2009

For kids that need more challenging education than traditional schools can provide, Saturday Academy offers programs and classes to stretch their minds.

The catalogue comes in the mail and immediately my 9-year-old son grabs it from my hands. He devours it while eating his morning breakfast. Legos! He wants Lego Physics II: Motors and Movement. No, it’s not a Christmas catalogue come early. It’s the Fall course listing for Saturday Academy.

For my math and science lover, third grade got a little, shall we say, boring. He’d come home from school and when asked what he did that day, “Not much,” was his usual reply. Adding and subtracting was his thing in first grade but he wants more of a challenge than the math curriculum can provide. When our school counselor sends home Saturday Academy’s course listings, we check it out.

Saturday Academy (SA), the brainchild of Portland teachers Gail Whitney and Jackie Jackson, began in the early 1980s. Their talented and gifted students, hungry for hands-on projects and eager to learn, weren’t being engaged at the appropriate level by the public school curriculum.
They watched one gifted boy become bored, decide school wasn’t for him and drop out. Gail and Jackie feared losing their brightest kids and they vowed to do something about it.

The creative duo also noticed much cutting-edge technology—computers at that time—sitting around unused during the weekends. By recruiting community experts as instructors, they were able to use the computers to provide young people with hands-on, in-depth classes in an environment that was relaxed, stress-free and anything but boring. The program has grown from those early ideas.

Today Saturday Academy provides three distinct programs to assist eager students who need more than the regular school day to quench their thirst for learning: classes and workshops, SA in the schools, and Apprenticeships in Science and Engineering (ASE).

Classes and workshops

Saturday Academy offers hundreds of classes and workshops at various locations throughout the Portland metro area and welcomes all students from grades 2 through 12. Although math and science remain a focus, SA subjects also explore the humanities, arts and writing.

My 3rd-grader ruminates over more than twenty choices from the school counselor’s catalogue, including Acting for Young People: Fractured Fairy Tales; Computer Art & Animation; and Rocket Science: Blast Off. He decides on Math Gems and it’s just what he needs.

In the first hour and a half session, students create and solve codes, and we can’t get him to leave the Portland State University (PSU) classroom. The day they study Fibonacci numbers, he rushes home to catch rabbits and count flower petals. In one class they fashion abacuses out of paper, metal nuts and string, and he learns to use his for addition and subtraction. On the final day, 3/14, they celebrate pi. These Saturday Academy people are his kind of people, and for my 3rd grade math wizard, learning has become fun again. This story repeats itself year-in and year-out in SA classrooms all over town, with curious students pursuing their quests for hands-on learning.

Saturday Academy in the schools

By stepping directly into the schools with an advancement program called Learning Enrichment and Accelerated Pace (LEAP), as well as SA:AfterSchool, Saturday Academy strives to ignite an excitement for learning in public schools throughout the Portland metro area, particularly in low-income neighborhoods.

Middle school students are in their own school after their regular day has ended. Despite the beautiful sunny weather outside, these children are all indoors, hard at work designing houses. While chances are good no one will ever live in their designs, instructor Anthony May has created a real-life work environment for these budding architects.

“I try to engage the students to work as if in a professional environment,” says Anthony.

His teaching style is decidedly different from the middle school instructors many of us remember. The children are encouraged to speak up and interact with one another, giving the classroom a laid-back feeling despite all the concentrated mental activity. He spends a good deal of the class time observing rather than teaching. First providing basic instructions, Anthony then allows the students to lead their own projects, intervening only to answer questions and offer encouragement.

“There are a lot of happy accidents in here,” he says.

The curriculum is based on Anthony’s personal experience as both a student and an instructor.

“My initial approach is to incorporate past college experiences, projects, lessons, and concepts into their lessons,” he says. “[This] makes the students strive a bit above and beyond what they might get from their respective age-level education.”

Anthony’s lesson plans are heavily influenced by his students’ level of interest and productivity. His willingness to adapt his methods fosters an all-inclusive environment where everyone feels successful. Students explore and build at their own pace, creating a learning environment with plenty of “aha” moments.

As one student puts it, “I finally got my ceiling up. I’m so proud!”

Apprenticeships in science and engineering

Once the ceiling is up where does one go from there?
Saturday Academy addresses the age-old question of how to bridge the gap between education and the real world with their Apprenticeships in Science and Engineering (ASE) program.

To quote the SA website, “The ASE program matches high school freshman, sophomores, and juniors with scientists and engineers in an 8-week summer internship in a professional, scientific or engineering environment.”

Dr. David Jay, PSU professor and ASE instructor, exemplifies the professionalism of the program. His experience points to the important contributions one mentored young person can make through participation in ASE.

In 2003 David was training SA intern Andrew Krause to run a tidal analysis program. When Andrew’s results found that the tidal amplitude (the differential between high tide and low tide) near Astoria was increasing, David asked him to check his work again, and to analyze data from a San Francisco site. Andrew found tides increasing there, too.

Thus began David’s five-year project culminating in the discovery that tidal amplitude has been rising from Alaska to Mexico, all along the west coast. Until his work, the scientific community considered tidal amplitude to be stable. While reasons for the change are still unknown, global warming is a prime suspect.

Clearly science has benefited from Saturday Academy’s ASE program and Andrew’s hard work. How do the interns benefit?

SA mentor and board member Meenakshi Rao explains that doing real work—to which researchers in the field refer and on which they base future research—“is very empowering to a student. These high school students have amazing talent and potential. And mostly, we as a society ignore it. ASE empowers the students while enriching society with their new ideas and hard work!”

Andrew Krause went on to Cal Tech and received his engineering degree this past spring. When he heard about his part in David Jay’s research he responded:

“Wow, that’s great that the research paid off! I definitely remember the excitement of finding out that the long hours in front of the computer seemed to be leading to discovering something no one had noticed before.”

Early this summer my son takes his second Saturday Academy class, Lego Physics Level 1: Gears and Cams. He builds a bridge that spans the classroom and constructs a tower taller than his reach. Luckily SA instructor Scott Isler is there with support to lift my son higher as his construction project soars. Likewise, after twenty-five years, Saturday Academy has built a strong organization, educating thousands of Portland metro area students and lifting them higher toward their dreams.

_____

To view Saturday Academy’s fall catalogue, register for classes or find out more about their in-school and apprenticeship programs go to www.saturdayacademy.org

Sara Bednark has written two children’s books, publishes The Portland Upside and believes that everyone has a story to tell.

Amee Pacheco has a bachelor’s in journalism and a graduate certificate in nonprofit management from the University of Oregon. She happily spends her time writing grants for Saturday Academy and knitting.

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The Numerous You

Poem and photo by Mike Aspros
The Portland Upside
September 2009

You are a Ginkgo leaf that knows its way; letting go,
you trust the ground to catch and hold.

A Swainson’s Thrush stomps dirt for a kernel,
with your weathered endurance of Bristlecone bark.

Like an elder Oak, in its stillness
with winter limbs, and bent elbows,
you embrace the helpless.

As the sun rouses geese from the reeds,
rejoicing, I love, I love, I love,

glowing on your face. People crowd around
and like a Marsh Wren’s outcry
they admire you.

_____

Mike Aspros is a native of Portland. In addition to writing poetry, he enjoys co-facilitating events within Linnton’s environmental group, and preserving Forest Park while building a community of forest stewardship.

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Yard sale brings in more than just money

Story and photo by Nicole Morales
The Portland Upside
September 2009

What’s more popular than barbecues, inflatable kiddie pools, and picnics in the park?

Yard sales!

Also known as garage sales. Or moving sales when one wants to lighten the load before a move.

When you’re the buyer, any of the three does just fine. It’s the deal you’re after. You gather some spare cash, set aside some time, and call up your buddy who can spot a bargain from the passenger’s side window. Off you go!

On the vendor’s side, though, things get a bit more complicated. You ask yourself, should it be on Friday, Saturday or Sunday or some combination? Are mornings better than afternoons, a whole day or just half? Maybe my neighbors would like to join in for a multifamily sale?

Then there’s the gathering and organizing of stuff—furniture, books, linens; pricing everything and moving it all onto the driveway or yard; and positioning the booty for best marketing success.

And don’t forget about the signage. They’ve got to be visible, eye-catching, and able to withstand the elements, whether morning drizzle or afternoon breezes.

These are the steps I took with my moving sale a few weeks ago in the hopes of unloading accumulated stuff and procuring some cash. But I underestimated one essential element—getting to know people.

Amid the maze of gently used furniture and shoebox transactions, I encounter many faces in search of a deal. Some are more than happy to chit-chat about the weather or their day, and even tell me a little something about themselves.

There’s the early bird fellow. He pulls up before eight o’clock, noticeably happy to be our first potential customer.

“Good Morning!”

He’s wide-eyed and groggy-free, unlike me.

“Morning,” I say as I sip my coffee.

There’s a spring to his step even though a propane barbecue and rusty metal parts weigh down his pickup.

“I see you got an early start,” I say pointing to his truck.

“Nah! I haul scrap metal,” he replies, eyeing my kaput lawn mower at the curb.

“What’s wrong with your mower?” he asks.

“It’s seen better days.” I say, “Not sure if it’ll start up again, so it’s free for the taking.”

“I’ll haul it off for you,” he says.

“Deal.”

Now I don’t have to persuade my friend with the hatchback to add it to his growing pile of junk.

Then there’s the woman brave enough to dig through my big brown box of clothing. She has plenty of questions. How much for this, that, these, and those? Intent on capturing a bargain, she resurfaces with a coat in one hand and scarf in the other. Quite a steal for five dollars.

Her next stop is the jewelry display on the card-table-turned-checkout-counter. Her free hand holds up a pair of dangly earrings to the sun. She then examines a Persian-blue furry brooch marked two dollars. That’s when her ring catches my eye.

“That’s beautiful. Amethyst?” I ask.

“Thanks,” she says. “Actually, I’ll trade it for this brooch.” She pauses a moment to glance at the back of her hand, the ring catching the sunlight.

“Really?” I ask, surprised by her offer. It’s an obviously uneven trade.

“Really. It’s not worth so much,” she tells me.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I say.

Unfortunately the ring happens to be too big for any of my fingers. I sell it less than an hour later.

A few sales later, I exchange unlikely stories with another man. He tells me he lives a few blocks down and helped to build the new elementary school on Lincoln Street. Some way or another our chit-chat turns from local to tropical.

“Real estate is booming in Costa Rica, but I’m set on Hawaii. That’s where my daughter recently married,” he explains.

“Sounds fantastic!” I say. “Haven’t been, but my boyfriend and I celebrated a birthday in Jamaica in ‘08.”

We chat for another fifteen minutes or so about sand, sun and fruity beverages. He leaves empty-handed. But I don’t mind, I’m heady with memories of a day spent on a secluded beach east of Montego Bay.

By three o’clock there are few lookers and even fewer buyers. With some cash settled in the shoebox, I decide to give my merchandise another hour to sell. What better excuse to finish the final chapters in my overdue library book?

That’s when the royal blue bicycle pulls up, a nostalgic cruiser I’d seen glide past earlier. Perhaps he’ll be my last customer and bring my bank up to an even one hundred and twenty five dollars.
Then I can call it quits.

Quite the contrary, I soon discover. His name is Angel Romero Peña.

“Nice bike,” I say.

“Thank you. I got it for free at the thrift store,” he tells me.

Our conversation evolves from there, a near two-hour exchange during which Angel recounts childhood stories and experiences living here in his adopted country.

“I left Havana, Cuba, on a raft with ten people on August 22, 1994. The mother ship picked us up four days later,” he explains.

“Mother ship? You were rescued?” I ask.

“The United States Coast Guard rescued us,” he replies.

“Wow! What a story, Angel.”

The US Coast Guard returned Angel and his sea mates to Cuba. But they didn’t return to the capital. They were taken to the other side of the island, Guantánamo Bay. He worked in a warehouse for four hundred and ten days before arriving in the United States the following year.

“So you weren’t a prisoner… a detainee?” I try to clarify.

“No, a refugee.”

Unreal. Here’s a man in slacks and a button-up shirt who rides up on a retro single-speed cruiser complete with white seat, looks over the three dollar ironing board and considers the ten dollar Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner. He walks up to the checkout table and easily engages me in dialogue about his bicycle, his family, and how he landed— literally—in this country.

“You want to see a picture of my daughter?” he asks.

“You two have the same smile,” I say.

Angel looks proud. He pauses, “I used to play marbles when I was a child, and I always beat the other kids.”

Turns out he’s a good chess player, a contender at dominoes, and can swing a baseball bat like a pro. All things he excelled at in Cuba. He studied as an industrial mechanic back home, and has held a handful of jobs in this country, though none in his field of expertise. Through his stories I glean that Angel has had a difficult life and many misfortunes, yet he is content, happy to share what most people consider too much information for a first encounter.

I finally ask, “What keeps you happy?

He mentions his late mother and says, “My mother told me to stay away from funerals and not to visit cemeteries.”

I laugh. “She couldn’t be any more right than that, Angel.”

I start to pack up my unsold goods while Angel goes on talking. I haven’t made a fortune, but I am richer for the stories. Not a bad way to leave a neighborhood I used to call home.

_____

Nicole Morales strives to connect people via multicultural education and writing. She teaches ESL at a private university outside of Portland and welcomes your inquiries at nmorales.writes@gmail.com

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Voices around town

What has inspired you lately?

The Portland Upside
September 2009

“I’m inspired by random displays of kindness. I work in a Starbucks drive-thru, and at least once a week, someone will come through and pay for the order behind them. The initial reaction from the next car is always shock, and then the level of gratitude that comes after is uncanny”

–Jenni
Woodlawn neighborhood
Portland, OR

“I’ve been inspired watching the Wordplay documentary. It’s cool to see things that bring people together instead of drawing them apart, because you can get so much more accomplished that way.”

–Matt Brockman
Forest Grove, OR

“I’m inspired by my friends who came down from Seattle to see me while I’m in Portland. It’s a good feeling to know that you have people who care about you like that.”

–Matt K.
Houston, TX

“I’m inspired by just getting out and seeing people. Seeing everybody doing their thing, and yet, somehow coming together without being told to or required to and having a good time.”

-Tim S.
Vermont Hills neighborhood
Portland, OR

“I’ve been inspired by Barack Obama getting elected. I’m Canadian, and I didn’t think I would see a black man elected to the White House in my lifetime.”

-Penny
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

“I’m inspired by the willingness of newfound friends to explore Portland with me as if it was all new to them.”

–Drewcifer
Kansas City, MO

“I’m inspired by watching my kids grow and change before my very eyes. Also, reading a really well-written book inspires me.”

-Tonda Burgin
Gresham, OR

“The nature outside my door teaches me and inspires me. When things are simply being themselves, following their own nature, they are so beautiful and healthy.”

-Cindy
Sauvie Island
Portland, OR

“I’m inspired to build mopeds, because mopeds are a reliable and economical mode of transportation. I like to take junk and put it back into use.

-Philip Patrie
Seattle, WA

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Portland nonprofit tackles the hard costs of cancer

By Erin Codazzi
The Portland Upside
September 2009

Photo by Amanda Peterson

Paul Grock celebrates his recovery and thanks Komak for their assistance in easing his financial burden after a year of cancer treatments.

Paul Grock wasn’t worried about the bump on his cheek. Someone must have clocked him on the basketball court. Or maybe it was a bug bite that would soon shrink, he thought. At the age of 26, he’d been healthy all his life and couldn’t be bothered to visit the doctor.

But the bump didn’t subside. Paul was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma in his jaw. That was October 2007, a month that marked not only the beginning of his cancer treatment but also his introduction to Komak, the Portland-based nonprofit.

A team of doctors acted quickly, starting with three months of intensive chemotherapy to shrink the tumor, followed by fifteen hours of surgery to remove the tumor and reconstruct his jaw. Paul spent the next eight months undergoing radiation treatments, more cycles of chemotherapy and physical therapy. He lost thirty pounds and all his hair, but his spirits were bright.

During the long year of treatment Paul’s employer reassured him that they would do what they could to support him. They let him work when he was up to it, yet he was barely able to work part-time and his bills were compounding. That’s when Komak stepped in to help.

Bridging the gap

Komak is a Persian word, which means help, aid or assistance to one in need, sickness, pain or distress. The definition lays the foundation for Komak’s mission: to help low-to-middle-income working people who need financial assistance, primarily because cancer has disrupted their lives. Whether someone has had to stop working because of chemotherapy treatments or to take care of an immediate family member with cancer, Komak focuses on seeing them through until they can get back on their feet.

Co-founder Dr. Katrenka Rember explains, “Low-to-middle-income working people and their families are truly an underserved population when it comes to prolonged illnesses like cancer. Those who are very poor or disabled often have medical coverage. Those who are wealthy can manage.”

Komak helps those caught in the middle.

“Our hope is that they not only survive their cancer, but that they can keep their home, family and financial status intact,” continues Katrenka.

She has first-hand experience with the financial toll cancer can take. At the age of thirty-nine, her fiancé was diagnosed with metastatic colon cancer and given months to live. Less than a year later, Katrenka was also diagnosed with colon cancer. While they both had good jobs, good employers, and health and disability insurance, they could not have managed without an extensive support network.

Honoring her fiancé’s final wishes, after her recovery Katrenka co-founded the organization along with Merle and Nasi Greenstein. As a volunteer organization with little overhead, all donations are channeled directly to Komak’s clients, a statistic supporters like Sam Naito appreciate.

“Knowing that every dollar I give to Komak goes directly to someone in need, in Portland, makes a big difference,” Sam says.

To date, Komak has helped twenty individuals and families by assisting with medical bills and basic living expenses.

According to Merle, “We cap our assistance at $5,000. That may not sound like a lot, but in most cases it’s more than enough to help people make it through some tough times.”

Most applicants are referred to Komak through a network of social workers in area hospitals. After an initial screening, board members visit applicants to assess the amount of the financial gap between their incomes and expenses.

“We look at the bigger picture, seeing if there are other ways they can reduce expenses before we determine what financial assistance they really need,” explains Merle. “These are hard-working people who were living within their means before cancer struck. If we can help them maintain their quality of life and dignity while they heal, we’re fulfilling our mission.”

Making a difference

“I wish we could say there wasn’t a need for this type of assistance,” says Katrenka. “But there is. Too many hardworking Americans are forced to choose between paying for rent and paying for cancer treatments. When we can help someone like Paul, we know we’re doing the right thing.”

During his illness Paul’s income was cut in half, and there were months when he had no income at all. As his bills mounted, he also had to make Cobra payments to continue his health insurance. Komak covered two month’s of Paul’s living expenses and worked with some of his medical providers to reduce their bills.

“Komak did more for me than I ever could have hoped for or expected,” comments Paul. “If it weren’t for them, I would be in a lot more debt.”

Today, Paul says his life is back to normal. He feels great, is playing basketball three times a week and working full-time again.
“Besides getting cancer, everything went as well as it could,” chimes Paul. “I got super lucky finding such a great team of doctors. And I got really lucky finding Komak.”

He was especially pleased that his doctors let him have the 3-D model they built of his skull.

“It’s bright pink and an exact replica of my skull, down to the millimeter,” he says. “I put lights in it and used it for a Halloween prop last year. It’s a pretty cool perk, even if it did cost $81,000.”
___

Komak is an Oregon-licensed, 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. To learn more, make a donation or get involved, visit their website at www.KomakCares.org

Erin Codazzi is a freelance writer with a penchant for positive news and black licorice. She lives in Portland and can be reached at erin@erincodazzi.com

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From old and unwanted to fun and stylish

By Erika Weisensee
The Portland Upside
September 2009

What happened to those old paint-by-numbers? Suzanne transformed them into useful handbags.

Eugene native Suzanne Keolker began sewing when she was a kid. She’s still sewing as an adult, yet in a new way—a green way, in fact.

About 10 years ago Suzanne pulled out her sewing machine and made her first tote bag out of an old vinyl banner. Today, she rescues items from landfills and transforms them into unique, useful and chic accessories.

Suzanne, now a Portland resident, turned her hobby into a business which she named Mugwump, after her childhood nickname. She makes tote bags, purses, pouches and other items from an array of would-be landfillers like old shower curtains, lawn chair webbing, kitchen contact paper and classroom wall maps.

As a former elementary school teacher, Suzanne loved going to SCRAP, a local nonprofit dedicated to promoting reuse through its programming and community store. That’s where she found the old orange banner. After making the first tote bag, she kept going and before long used up the whole thing.

“It’s tricky to sew with vinyl,” she says, “but I fell in love with it.”

From that point on, she began looking at things with a new eye, wondering what she could make out of the many items that people just toss out. As her creative passion grew into a new business, she eventually left her teaching job, though she still substitute teaches.

At Splurge, an artist’s co-op on NE Fremont Street, Suzanne’s creativity is on full display. Her creations include retro-chic handbags made out of discarded placemats and vintage board games, old book pages turned into pouches, and out-dated maps transformed into wallets and business card holders.

“Finding the materials is half the fun,” Suzanne says.

As her business has grown, so have the number of people who find things for her. Recently, for instance, a friend tipped her off. His school was cleaning out a storage closet and had a bunch of old classroom maps.

Suzanne’s customers enjoy buying accessories that are not only attractive but environmentally friendly. When she began selling her items a decade ago, she had to educate people about what she was doing. People didn’t always get the value of taking trash and making it into something useful. But the idea of reuse has definitely caught on.

“I don’t have to explain it anymore,” Suzanne says with a smile.
_____

Suzanne sells her items at the Portland Saturday Market and at retail boutiques in Portland. For more information visit www.imugwump.com

Erika is a writing mom. She lives in Milwaukie and teaches writing at the University of Portland.

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