Never too old to succeed

Dream of learning to read realized after 40 years of patience and persistence

By Deb Stone
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Photo by Robert Holcomb

Marcy Kamis (right) was one of the 30 million American adults who can’t read, but because of her courage and belief in herself, she found a teacher in Merry Gilbertson (left) and is now a successful reader.

Merry Gilbertson attended the first grade near Milan, Minnesota, in 1956. Being successful in school was so important to her family that she never questioned it. Of course, she got good grades. Of course, she would go to St. Olaf College. That’s what people in her family did. And first, she would learn to read.

Everyone learns to read, right? Wrong. According to the U.S. Department of Education, in 2003, 14% of Americans over the age of sixteen—30 million adults—could not perform tasks that
required simple reading.

The year Merry started first grade, Marcella “Marcy” Kamis was born in Roswell, New Mexico. She was the firstborn daughter of a Caucasian woman and a Navajo man. Her father, an Air Force pilot, was so proud of his daughter he called her his little Belladonna (beautiful lady).

But once she turned two, Marcy would not hear the endearment again. Her mother took her to live with a new stepfather, where Marcy doesn’t remember them ever calling her by name. They called her Stupid or Idiot or a string of expletives. The family moved often to avoid eviction. Each year another child was born. Each year, school became a greater burden.

“When a teacher knows you can’t read and they continue to call on you, it’s humiliating.” Marcy said.

Still, she tried to do what was expected. She went to school, came home, and helped with chores.

By 1972, Merry Gilbertson was attending St. Olaf College where she shared a room in an old Tudor building with leaded glass windows and large open beams. That same year, Marcy’s family moved to a three-room shack near Canby, Oregon, where the 11 children slept body-to-body across piles of clothes. At Canby High School, Marcy failed all of her ninth grade classes except sewing and choir. She didn’t need to read to pass those.

When the school called about Marcy’s inability to read, her mother pulled her from school and sent her to work in the fields where she weeded hops by hand, and trained them on upright supports. When hops season ended, strawberry season began. After that she picked raspberries, cucumbers and green beans. She worked in the field all day, gave the cash to her mother each afternoon and went about her chores.

In 1977, Merry finished her Master’s Degree in Special Education. Marcy had two sons by then, and struggled to make ends meet. When she turned 21, a Woodburn bar owner offered her a job. Marcy couldn’t read the Oregon Liquor Control Commission test, so the owner took the test for her. Marcy worked days at the cannery, nights at the bar. She put in many hours and left her young sons with her mother for days. Conditions were not good. Welfare workers intervened.

Marcy was afraid she would lose her sons forever. When her boss suggested Marcy give her temporary custody of her oldest son Robert, Marcy signed the papers. She drove her youngest son Teddy to an aunt’s home in Arizona. When Marcy called to visit with Robert, her boss explained that Robert was no longer Marcy’s son. The papers she signed had granted an adoption.

Marcy struggled along for a few years. Her younger sister gave away several children of her own. When the sister became pregnant again, Marcy asked what she intended to do with the baby. Three months later, Marcy’s sister placed baby Jessica in Marcy’s arms. This time, Marcy paid for the adoption attorney herself, so she would know what the papers said.

Jessica was a precocious child. When she read her first grade primers aloud, Marcy followed along. By second grade, Jessica could read better than her mom could. Marcy enrolled her in piano and dance lessons. At six, she attended Starstruck Studio owned by Bill and Rose Holden.

“Times were tough,” Rose said. “But Marcy would do whatever it took to make sure Jessica had music and dance.”

Rose offered Marcy a job at the Oregon City Golf Course. Marcy could frame walls, hang sheetrock, repair plumbing, and lay tile. She could take orders and manage events. She had an uncanny knack to anticipate Rose’s needs.

“If I said, ‘gee, I’d like to…’ she had it done,” Rose remembers.

But Marcy’s lack of tact sometimes rubbed others the wrong way. Rose thought it had to do with Marcy’s inability to read. She paid for Marcy to attend Sylvan Learning Center. Still, Marcy did not learn to read. Reluctantly, Rose let Marcy go.

By then, Jessica was a member of the Oregon City High School dance team coached by Gail Hoskins.

“I never met anyone,” says Gail, “who worked harder than Marcy.”

Even though she worked two or three jobs, Marcy was the first to help at fundraisers. She never took a handout.

“I felt lucky,” Gail says, “to see the vulnerable side of Marcy. There is so much more to her than her tough exterior.”

Gail helped Marcy apply to be a substitute custodian for the Oregon City School District, where she eventually worked full time. She didn’t earn enough to pay Jessica’s dance team fees, so she applied at K-Mart for a second job. The store director permitted Marcy to have someone read the evaluation questions to her. She passed the test and was hired. She worked days at the high school and evenings and weekends at K-Mart.

Marcy had limited social skills, former Oregon City High School Principal Carol Kemhus recalls.
“But she was grateful for any opportunity. She wanted to do things right. She took her responsibilities seriously. Sometimes, too seriously.”

In hindsight, Marcy realizes she could be impatient and abrupt.

“Some of the kids called me Hall Nazi,” Marcy says.

Although she did not recognize it at the time, she now believes she resented the students who loitered in halls instead of attending class. Didn’t they know how lucky they were to be in school?

In 2004, Marcy, now 48, walked into a room where students received academic coaching to ask if someone would help her learn to read. Merry Gilbertson worked as the Special Education Coordinator. She agreed to do an informal assessment and found that Marcy’s sound-symbol association was rudimentary. She appeared to have a visual processing disorder.

Marcy worried she had failed the test. “I’m never going to learn to read,” she recalls.
However, Marcy was on Merry’s mind.

“I kept thinking, ‘I know how to help her,’” said Merry. “If I don’t, who will?”

They began working together twice each week. Merry sat directly behind Marcy, and together they touched and said each letter sound aloud. The neurological effect of hearing, saying, and touching at the same time imprints the brain in a particular way. Before Marcy could read words with fluency, she needed to be able to have more instantaneous recall of the sound associated with each letter.

“I thought she would give up on me,” Marcy says. “But she kept coming back.”

Together they worked on individual letters, then letter combinations. Three years later, Marcy read her first novel, The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. She threw herself a fiftieth birthday party to celebrate her success and told everyone she had learned to read.

Knowing how to read is more than settling down with a good book. Marcy has developed the confidence to laugh at herself.

“When I first moved to Oregon,” she says, “I used to see “House For Sale” signs in people’s yards. I always wondered why so many people had horses for sale. When Merry taught me the sound difference between o-u and o-r, I suddenly understood they were selling houses. You see why you believe you’re dumb? If you can’t make sense of the world because you can’t read, you feel lost. When you learn to read, you hear conversations differently, so it changes your relationships.”

Over the last five years, Marcy and Merry have become friends. Merry believes a simple twist of fate gave them different beginnings. She admires Marcy’s perseverance and hard work.
Before she met Marcy, Merry thought differently.

“I bought some line that people could get by without reading. That technology could accommodate. I didn’t understand that learning to read actually changes the architecture of the brain.”

K-Mart manager Kristi Bays says Marcy is more confident. She can now write layaway orders and take payments. She can adjust prices on the shelves for the weekly ad. She trains new employees.

Marcy continues to work at K-Mart and at Oregon City High School. Some days she works two eight-hour shifts back-to-back. Sometimes she still struggles to find the right tone of voice or words to use. She tries to stop and ask herself, “How would someone else say this?”

Not long ago her son Teddy asked why she did not answer the letters he had written to her as a child.

“I saved them all,” she said, “but I didn’t know how to read.”

Last year she found the courage to return to the Navajo reservation to meet her father. For the first time in fifty years, he called her Belladonna.

When I asked what she would like non-readers to take away from this story, Marcy said, “They won’t be reading it, will they?” After laughing, she said, “I want them to know that there is someone out there, someone who is going to help you. It could take you years, but you’ve got to find them.”

_____

Deb Stone is a freelance writer from Beavercreek, Oregon, whose work has appeared in The Oregonian, The Portland Tribune, Asylum, Oregon Gourmet Foods, Poetic Voices, Kid-Bits and Willamette Writers.

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A tale of two Robs

By Matt Elerding
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Photo by Matt Elerding

While doing his Little League Dad duties of encouraging his young son to keep his chin up, “Baseball Rob” unknowingly becomes an inspiration to his close friends.

In my job as a mortgage loan officer I write occasional articles, essays and blog posts on the current state of this unraveling industry. But I just don’t have it in me to pen another depressing manifesto about the current state of real estate and mortgage lending.

Even if you’re not directly tied to the real estate world, you understand that we’ve all been through a rough period of change these past couple of years. And if you’ve been touched at all by this change, then this story is meant for you.

It’s a story about two guys named Rob.

I met the first Rob in the spring of 2007 when we both added the role of Little League Dad to our parental résumés, a title that carries brimming levels of responsibility, leadership, and above all, an unbelievable amount of time.

“Baseball Rob” and I arrived every Tuesday afternoon, the trunks of our cars crammed with baseball mitts, bats and dirty cleats that would forever decimate the resale value of our automobiles. We escorted our young soldiers onto the battlefield and did our best to teach them the ways of the world on that hallowed ground known simply as The Baseball Diamond.

While neither of us was an official coach of the Red Sox, we both looked forward to our duty as the unpaid helper coaches of this ferocious gaggle of fearless 10-year-old boys. Under the guise of coordinating baseball drills and handing out juice-boxes, my new friend and I secretly etched new chapters into the book of memories with our sons.

On that field, deep in the heart of Battle Ground, Washington, I grew to admire, respect and love this man. He worked hard in his role as a regional manager, treasured his beautiful wife and found time to shower his five children with immeasurable amounts of affection. Baseball Rob made me want to be a better man.

Meanwhile, an equally incredible man—I’ll call him Realtor Rob—came into my life. He too demonstrated all the qualities that should be printed in the textbook on how to be an amazing human being. He sold real estate for a living and had been doing quite well. Rob oozed effervescence and all who encountered him knew that it was genuine and true. Despite an unwavering commitment to his career, he always managed to strike the perfect balance that allowed him to love his wife and be a role model to his three adoring children.

Shortly after we became friends, Realtor Rob randomly asked me one day if I had a favorite song. I answered his question with a raised eyebrow and we moved on. A few weeks later I called his cell phone and was greeted, not with the standard ring of an incoming call, but with the soothing reverie of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. My song. I couldn’t help smiling at the simple thoughtfulness of his gesture. Realtor Rob, like Baseball Rob, made me want to be a better person.

As 2007 unfolded, it looked as though our collective gravy train would be pulling into the station in dire need of a massive overhaul. The real estate market, that once unstoppable juggernaut, came to a grinding halt. Before long, virtually everyone—including those even loosely tied to real estate—was feeling an unaccustomed level of strain.

All around me I watched people fraught with stress and anxiety, unable to shake the palpable reality that the economy was contracting and nothing could be done to prevent it. Our incomes were suffering and those pesky monthly bills kept showing up with remarkable consistency.
Despite their positive outlook, the two Robs were feeling the pressures of the change.

Realtor Rob experienced a painful dip in his real estate business. His listings were not selling and his potential buyers had a difficult time obtaining financing. (Curse those mortgage bankers!) He was working twice as hard for half the income. He would eventually go through the painful experience of a short sale on his own residence and move his family into a rental home. A few weeks later his wife, and partner in business, was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Never had I seen a friend bear such a tidal wave of bad news. Yet through every nightmare transaction and through all the unthinkable battles of his personal life, his bright smile and infectious demeanor never wavered. Not once.

Meanwhile, although not directly connected to real estate or banking, Baseball Rob was also feeling the pain of the souring economy as he struggled to make ends meet. His company was changing directions and he, too, faced financial difficulty. But with bootstrapping endurance, Rob showed me that perseverance is not merely a choice but an obligation. Around that same time Rob wasn’t feeling very well and went to see his doctor. A week later he was diagnosed with cancer.

I watched as my dear friend battled melanoma for three long and painful months. I watched as his frightened wife and terrified children saw the most important man in their lives dwindle to a frail human being incapable of walking and, eventually, unable to wrap his once strong arms around his family. Yet his spirit inexplicably seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

My friend, bedridden and so weak he could barely muster a smile, had become the most monumental hero I had ever met.

The night before Rob died, I went to his bedside. I leaned over and kissed his brow and told him how much I loved him for helping me to realize what it meant to be a hero to so many people.

I feel so blessed that these two Robs came into my life to show me a level of optimism I had never experienced. Here were two guys struggling with all the ills and setbacks that life can throw at you, yet they maintained a positive attitude. The two Robs showed me that for every chunk of bad, there are infinitely more nuggets of good, if you just look for them. And sometimes the things for which we should be most grateful are the things we don’t even notice.

They taught me that there is good to be extracted out of even the simplest of moments; like sitting in a restaurant, eating with your family, your five senses firing on all cylinders; watching your children scan the menu even though they can’t yet read; the sound of the ballgame pouring from the TV mounted above; the smell of dinner wafting from the double doors of the kitchen; the contagious laughter of the toddler two tables over.

I’m not some Pollyanna; we’re surrounded by bad stuff. It’s everywhere. In our relationships, in our careers, in those we love and in those we don’t know. There are jobs being cut, people losing their homes and parents exploiting their children to garner media attention. Make no mistake. Bad stuff abounds.

Maybe our existence isn’t going to be all that we had imagined as kids fearlessly sprinting across playgrounds. The altered dreams and humbling realties of our lives are scattered up and down the I-5 corridor as we bumper-to-bumper our way to jobs that sometimes aren’t very much fun. Sometimes we look around and feel like we’re the only ones living in a constant state of fear, disappointment and regret for a life that is not always unfolding the way we had planned.

But I also believe that we all have glimpses of grandeur and hope for the years that remain, even if only for brief and inspired moments at a time.

I keep a picture of Baseball Rob tucked into the sun visor of my car. He is there as a constant reminder of the kind of man I aspire to be. And from time to time I call Realtor Rob’s cell phone just to listen to the familiar notes of that soothing sonata and to remind myself that we’re all in this together. That gives me hope, and that’s a good thing.

_____

Matt Elerding grew up in Sitka, Alaska, and attended the University of Portland and Notre Dame. He lives in Battle Ground, Washington, with his wife, Heather and his two children, Gage and Abi. He can be reached at Info@ElerdingTeam.com

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How does she do it?

Many households set out one can of garbage each week. Jeanne Roy produces only one can per year.

By Cody Dollowitch
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Jeanne Roy has reduced her garbage output to one can per year by finding more recycling options and by making better buying decisions that eliminate excess waste.

Jeanne Roy is a full time volunteer and co-founder of The Center for Earth Leadership. She also cut the amount of garbage she produces to one can per year. When she’s not teaching, developing curriculum, planning events, or recruiting for her organization, you might find her composting in her yard or x-country skiing on Mt. Hood. The Portland Upside recently caught up with Jeanne for a short interview.

Portland Upside: When did you start trying to produce less garbage?

Jeanne Roy: It started in 1971 when my husband and I dramatically changed our lifestyle, or at least our outlook. I can remember in the 1970’s when companies stopped packaging cottage cheese in wax paper cartons and started packaging it in plastic containers. When the containers started to pile up I knew it was time to make a change.

In 1987 I formed a recycling organization and we’ve been limiting our consumption ever since. When our three kids where at home we had it down to four cans a year. When they moved out we got it down to about one.

Upside: Why did you decide to try to make less garbage?

Jeanne: In trying to reduce my impact on the planet, I think it is easier to control what I consume than it is to control other things I don’t always have control of, like housing or transportation.

Upside: So what are some steps readers can take to reduce the amount of garbage they make?

Jeanne: You can start by recycling curbside and taking what can’t be recycled curbside, like books or electronics, to a recycling depot. Composting all of your yard debris and food is important.

The next big step is something I call pre-recycling, which means thinking about what is and isn’t recyclable before making a purchase. For example, people can buy meat from a meat counter rather than buying it prepackaged. Leaving packaging that isn’t recyclable at retailers is a way to let retailers know how unnecessary extra packaging is.

Buying things in bulk and eliminating the use of disposables is important too. Of course there are certain exemptions to this rule, like toilet paper. It can be hard for people to give up disposables because of their relative convenience.

Upside: What have you enjoyed the most about reducing the amount of garbage you make?

Jeanne: The thing I’ve enjoyed the most is getting in my yard and turning over the compost. It puts me in touch with nature. It’s great to keep the cycle in my own yard and not have to buy soil additives. It’s also nice not to bother with the hassle that comes with garbage.

Upside: What’s been the hardest part of reducing the amount of garbage you produce?

Jeanne: It’s hard not bringing home things that you can’t recycle. But the hardest thing for me has been finding places that will use the things that I don’t want around the house anymore. If you take something to Goodwill you never know if it’s just going to end up in the garbage. It took me a long time to find a home for some of my children’s old trophies, but I eventually found a trophy shop to donate them to.

Upside: Besides the amount of money you save on garbage removal, do you have any idea how much money you save by reducing the amount of garbage you make?

Jeanne: I have no idea on a dollar amount but when you buy in bulk you save so much money. I once figured out that buying popcorn in bulk is 14 times cheaper than buying it prepackaged in individual servings and there’s a lot less packaging.

Upside: Thanks for taking the time to talk. Is there anything you would like to add?

Jeanne: Well, I’m really excited about a course that we offer at the Center for Earth Leadership called How to be an Agent of Change in Your Circle of Influence. The easiest places to change are the organizations we are already involved in. This class teaches people how they can make a big difference at their work or school.

_____

For more information or to enroll in classes you can reach the Center for Earth Leadership at 503-227-2315 or reach them on the web at earthleaders.org


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From the editors

Rob & Sara Bednark
The Portland Upside
February, 2010

Since the beginning, The Portland Upside has been an act of faith. Would we be able to create a newspaper out of our home? Would anyone like a paper with all positive stories? Yes, and yes.

But one of the crucial unknowns was would we get enough content to fill an eight-page paper every month? And thankfully for 11 issues the answer has also been “yes.”

Each month is a new adventure for us. We start with a blank document, a request for articles and no preconceived plans. Writers run ideas across our desk, then go home to write.

We have no idea what articles, poetry or photographs will be in the next issue until the submissions start filling our inbox—some expected, some a surprise. What we receive is then distilled into the issue you read.

Without our growing number of contributors and readers, we would never have learned about therapy horses in Oregon City (“Horses are the therapists at new riding center”), following your heart and the taste of chocolate at Alma Chocolates (“Chocolate leads Sarah Hart in unexpected directions”), or the transformative power of learning to read (“Never too old to succeed”).

Our wish is that everyone feels like they are a part of the Upside writing staff. So we invite all of you to send in your stories, poetry and photographs that highlight the positive side of Portland.


Sara & Rob

_____


Send your submissions to editors@portlandupside.com or contact us by phone at 503-663-1526. You can view our writer’s guidelines and all of our past issues on our website,
portlandupside.com


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You, too, can be a member of Portland’s growing Upside!

Do-it-yourself membership gift. Cut out and duct tape to bumper, glue to mug, tape to window or pin on shirt.

Do you value the positive news that The Portland Upside reports and want to add to its growth?

Show your support:
sponsor an issue,
advertise your business, organization or event,
or donate.

Go to PortlandUpside.com to donate or view advertising rates or contact Sara & Rob about sponsorship and for more info.

503-663-1526 10013 SE Eastmont Dr
editors@portlandUpside.com Damascus, OR 97089

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What people are saying about The Portland Upside

The Portland Upside
March 2010

“I appreciate your paper as we need to focus more on the positive things going on in the world, not just the drama.”

“I just love your publication! I picked up my first copy yesterday and read the whole thing non-stop.”

“I love the paper, I read several editions online and I really think it’s about time we start focusing on positive stories!”

_____

Send your comments to editors@portlandupside.com
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The power of writing together

By Faye Powell
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Photo by Faye Powell

Emily Trinkaus (left), founder of Portland Women Writers and Dawn Thompson, offer a safe and inviting space where women can find and develop their authentic voices through writing.

How many beautiful stories languish in the hearts and minds of women who fear exposing their vulnerable words to others? How many critical teachers silence the nascent creativity of students, convinced they cannot write?

One mild January morning I join nine other women in a half-day Portland Women Writers (PWW) workshop at the Multnomah Village Garden Sanctuary located in a quiet southwest Portland neighborhood. We gather in a large room in which grey light streams through tall, wide windows. Buddhist paintings and statuettes on walls and windowsills create an ambiance of serenity as we sit in a circle with notebooks and pens poised. The theme is “Chiron: The Wounded Healer.”

After we introduce ourselves, Emily Trinkaus, founder of PWW and Dawn Thompson, a workshop facilitator, explain that this workshop, like all PWW workshops, will operate on the premise that everyone is a writer, that everyone can access her own voice through the written word and that each of our voices is unique and brilliant.

In order to encourage us to go within and mine the jewels in our own stories, the facilitators suggest free-write prompts, such as “I am reconnecting …,” “My gifts are …,” and “I am healing ….” Then they invite us to share what we have written.

Trained in the Amherst Writers and Artists community writing method, Emily moved to Portland from New York in 2001. She found there wasn’t a similar writing group here and she missed it, so in 2003 she established PWW which now offers a variety of workshops in which women writers of every level come together to write in a safe, supportive environment.

“When you get used to writing in groups and you go home and try to write by yourself, it’s harder,” Emily says.

PWW’s primary goal is to create writing communities that promote healing and personal transformation, with less emphasis on publication. In our busy society, it is easy to feel isolated, and one of the positive benefits of PWW is that it brings Portland-area women together who otherwise would never meet.

For Dawn, a former staff member with Write Around Portland, writing stories is a sacred healing and transformative act.

“Anytime we have the opportunity to pause from our busy lives and to redirect our attention back inward,” she says, “that sets a groundwork for really amazing things to take place. Writing allows us to share our story with ourselves and with others, and I think there is something inherently healing about that … and to do it in our own voice.”

Dawn continues, “I think there is something special that happens when a group of women come together. I think part of it has to do with the safety that’s created for women … that the safety and ease allow women to take perhaps more risks with their writing. It is a place where women really get to practice being themselves and find their unique voice.”

Emily adds that by exploring one’s wounds in a supportive group, women see they are not alone and that through the compassionate support of others in the group, self-acceptance can grow. She uses astrology—“a language of archetypes”—in her workshops because she views it as a way of observing oneself more objectively, both as a unique individual and also connected with something larger.

A couple of weeks later I am sitting in on one of Rhea Wolf’s weekly PWW workshops. Rhea, like Dawn, is a former Write Around Portland facilitator. On this evening seven women gather in the cozy living room of the host’s Sellwood home. Over a period of two hours, Rhea leads us through four free-writes and readings.

When women write together there is a lot of laughter. Listening to one another, heads nod, “Yes! We’ve been there too.” Rhea notes that in an eight-week workshop, women have time to create a safe, secure space where familiarity and trust can develop and where each person’s authentic voice can flourish and be heard.

Facilitators and participants alike are unanimous in their enthusiasm for writing in community.
Jenni Miller began writing with PWW about a year-and-a-half ago.

She says, “Having spent time working on a few plays and some short stories, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it all. PWW offers a tremendously supportive environment, believes in the process of writing, in each individual’s process, and facilitates sound solid feedback. Since that first class almost two years ago, I now have numerous pieces I am confidently working on… short stories, poems …who would have ever thought!”

Dawn and Emily both stress the transformative power of sharing one’s stories in a group of women.

“In a group of eight,” Dawn points out, “it is common for two or three to be new writers. Therefore, the workshop is a perfect container for [starting to write] because we honor where anyone is in their own writing process. We all have a voice, and we all have words.”

Another participant, Sara Hamill, says she appreciates that only positive feedback is permitted because a free-write is like “an infant child being presented to a group. One can request a critique of more mature writing later if one wishes. The only risk is showing up.”
Traci Schatz describes the retreats and workshops as “life changing experiences.”

“When I took my first PWW workshop,” she says, “I hoped to get a chance to meet other women writers and carve out some dedicated time for my own writing. What I didn’t expect was to be so influenced and moved by the writing the other women shared.”

PWW offers workshops on a variety of themes including nature, poetry, astrology, sacred story, and embracing change. To accommodate different schedules and interests, there are one-day, three-day and weekly workshops. For writers who want to focus on the craft of writing, a sister organization, Portland Writers, offers workshops for both experienced and beginning writers. In the spring, PWW will offer a three-day retreat at Silver Falls on the theme, “Freeing the Wild Feminine.”

_____

For more information about Portland Women Writers, Portland Writers and the Amherst Writers and Artists see pdxwomenwriters.com, portlandwriters.com and
amherstwriters.com

Faye Powell is a retired librarian who writes fiction and non-fiction. She can be contacted at phaysee1@gmail.com

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From the bike lane

By Jen Bond
March 2010

Sponsored by

After moving to Portland ten years ago as a very casual cyclist, I’ve expanded my biking horizons beyond the occasional commute to work or brief ride through the park. I now include all kinds of cycling, and I’ve been amazed at the many cool and creative ways that Portlanders make bicycling a part of their lives.

Indeed, Portlanders use their bikes for everything from training to transportation. It brings me so much joy to see people from all walks of life out enjoying themselves on their bikes, getting exercise, breathing fresh air, soaking up the sunshine or smiling through the rain. While it’s true that biking has many positive effects on our personal lives, and on the health and happiness of our community, the main motivation is that pedaling is fun!

For many of us, learning how to ride a bike as a child was one of our major early accomplishments, filled with excitement and the thrill of an emerging independence. That feeling of freedom brings many adults back to biking.

Recently, our friend, Maxwell Rush, owner-operator of Green Light Construction and Painting, stopped by the house to give us an estimate on some remodeling work, and I was excited to see him arrive by bicycle. It was a nice day, especially for February. Since he lives in the neighborhood, biking over to take measurements and discuss plans seemed way more fun than hopping in his pickup truck. We started talking about the irresistible allure of biking, and he related how he and his family incorporate biking into their busy lives whenever they can.

Maxwell had been pedaling around town on an old mountain bike until he stopped by River City Bicycles to get a commuter bike with a rack, pannier bags, and fenders. His new rig allows him to do more of his errands by bicycle. When the weather and time allow, he goes grocery shopping on two wheels or rides his 6-year-old daughter to school on her trail-a-bike. Her schoolbooks fit nicely in the pannier bag, and she gets to pedal if she feels like it, or just enjoy the ride if that’s more her style. She’s learning about the joys of biking with her dad, spending quality time with him during the forty-five minute ride to school, and becoming more used to being outside in less-than-perfect weather.

Maxwell’s wife and 2-year-old have also jumped on the bicycle bandwagon, cruising along on a bike equipped with an extra-cycle, a seat and cargo option that makes her bike even more fun and versatile. Maxwell even plans to employ his carpentry skills to build an outdoor bike garage next to his house this summer. The addition will make it even easier for his family to use their bikes whenever they feel the urge to add a little bit more fun to their day.

Many of us have demanding schedules, and we all have different thresholds for cool rainy weather. Yet Maxwell and his family remind us that we can add biking to our lives in many different ways to reap the benefits of fitness, family-time, and mostly, fun!

_____

Visit River City Bycycles at 706 SE MLK Blvd., Portland, Oregon, 503-233-5973; or online at
rivercitybicycles.com

Jen Bond is a River City Bicycles employee, cycle-tourist and all-around bike-enthusiast.

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Sweet mystery of spring

By Arnetta Guion
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Photo by Arnetta Guion

Anatta Blackmarr delights in the thousands of crocus blooms that cover her yard each spring.

Every spring, Anatta Blackmarr and Edward Riddle live in a magic meadow of crocus blossoms.

They first discovered the woodland-style yard on occasional walks around the Southeast neighborhood of Oak Grove Heights, above the Willamette River. When the property, with its spacious oak-shaded yard, came on the market four years ago, they bought the cozy house and made plans to remodel. The big attraction for Anatta is the mass of crocuses blooming in the lawn.

“To see it for the first time, I was astonished,” says Blackmarr, formerly of the Bay Area in California.

Yet there is a bit of mystery. Anatta wonders how the crocuses came to be in the Portland area in the first place, and how they spread. Perhaps old-time gardeners shared the tiny bulbs, as gardeners will do. Or perhaps nature dispersed the seeds through birds or wind, once they were established.

“The bulbs are small, seem hardy and must have been planted when the house was built, probably in the 1950’s,” she conjectures.

After the winter temperatures warm and before the grass starts to grow, slender leaf blades come up. Then delicate pink crocus buds begin popping up everywhere. What happens next is an explosion of trumpet-like blooms in a veritable carpet over the entire area.

The magic meadow among the native oaks and mossy basalt boulders peaks by mid-February. Both Anatta and Edward delight in sharing the view with passers-by.

“People stop and often come back. I think it is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Now the bees are humming in chorus with delight.”

What variety are they? Who might have planted them and when? Perhaps you have an answer to the sweet mystery of these spring crocuses!

______

Arnetta has been a plant lover all her life, She advocates use of northwest native plants for low maintenance landscapes and gardens.

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Submission of the month

Matilda and the Fairy

The Portland Upside
March 2010

Needle-felt artwork by Stacy Polson

Everything fascinates Portland needle-felt artist Stacy Polson. So when she discovered the craft of needle-felting she had to try it. Needle-felting is the process of adhering fiber to fiber using a barbed needle to compact wool into shapes. She’s used almost every medium there is and says that needle-felting is the most versatile and forgiving.

“It’s allowed me to experiment like never before because I can simply fix a mistake by plucking out the wool. And what other medium lets you paint and sculpt and needs no cleanup?”

_____

If you go to Stacy’s website, stacypolson.com, you’ll see she’s got eclectic tastes. Right now, she’s working on a series of Geishas wearing surreal hats. You can also view her work at Gossamer at 2418 East Burnside Street in SE Portland.

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Chocolate leads Sarah Hart in unexpected directions

By Olivia Johnson
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Photo by Rob Bednark

Sarah Hart’s appreciation for the art of chocolate led her to start Alma Chocolates, where she creates interesting chocolate-spice blends and designs custom molds.

Sarah Hart has always had a passion for food. She treasures memories of visiting her grandparents’ house as a little girl. They had grown up as rural farmers during the depression and were still very poor when Sarah and her family stayed with them.

“Making food was her way of expressing love,” Sarah says of her grandmother Alma. “When we would visit, she was up before everyone else in the morning, making everyone’s favorite pies.”

Sarah inherited what she calls Alma’s “spirit and generosity of expressing love through food.” But instead of pies, Sarah found her niche in chocolates.

Sarah owns Alma Chocolates in Northeast Portland. Not only is the name significant because of her grandmother, Sarah has also discovered that alma means “soul” in Spanish and “to nourish” in Latin.

“Food is the basic way of nurturing people,” according to Sarah.

But man cannot live on chocolate alone. Alma Chocolates also doubles as a café, serving espresso, tea, and homemade baked goods.

The tiny shop is cozy, decorated with handcrafted and antique displays featuring the work of a new local artist each month. Sarah proudly arranges a unique medley of caramels, sauces, toffees, barks, bars, bonbons, and of course chocolates, at the front counter, on worn wooden shelves, and wherever else they can fit. The unmistakable scent of melted chocolate blended with exotic spices wafts from the kitchen, which peeks from behind thick brown curtains.

To Sarah, making chocolate is an art.

“I always said that I wanted to be an artist, but it took me a while to find my form,” she smiles.
Sarah uses only high-quality ingredients for her creations, all made in the compact kitchen in the back of her store. Coming up with new recipes is her favorite part of the job.

“I read cook books in bed like they’re novels. I can picture how things will taste.”

One particular challenge that thrills Sarah is to find the best way to pair uncommon spices with chocolate.

“It’s like pairing food and wine…finding what is complimentary and what is contrasting.”
She recalls reading about how a fellow chocolatier couldn’t figure out how to use cumin with a chocolate recipe.

“So, I said, ‘I want to figure that out!’”

At other times, Sarah’s friends can play her muse.

“One of my friends really likes ginger so I invented a toffee with ginger in it.”

But Sarah’s most exclusive items are the gilded icon chocolates she began creating five years ago in her own kitchen. Made of solid dark chocolate, she sets the icons in custom-designed molds before gilding them with 23-karat edible gold leaf. There are jolly-looking buddhas, serene Virgin Marys, and half-human, half-elephant Ganesha gods from Hindu mythology.

Since chocolate is such an amazing ingredient, she believes that its presentation should match its importance.

“So much of what you could get was cheesy…just googly-eyed rabbits,” Sarah explains, clearly tired of the monotonous way companies choose to market their chocolate.

Despite her love of food, Sarah never imagined becoming a chocolatier. The youngest of five children, she grew up in Springfield, Missouri. She attended Beloit College in Wisconsin for two years before moving to Eugene in 1986, where she received both Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in English from the University of Oregon. She landed a teaching job at Eastern Michigan University and moved to Ypsilanti, Michigan, but returned to Portland in 1994.

She got a job at Papa Haydn restaurant and loved it.

“I come from a very academic family—everyone had gone to college—and working in the food industry was not viewed as a ‘real’ job,” Sarah explains.

Nevertheless, she went on to work at L’Auberge Restaurant. But the idea to open a chocolate shop wouldn’t leave Sarah alone.

“I listened to this voice inside asserting itself. It was like a string that was dangling in front of me, and I started pulling, and it kept going, doors kept opening.”

Instead of enrolling in a culinary school she opted to have a seasoned chocolatier, Ian Titteron, teach her everything he knew abut chocolate in the comfort of her own home. After many tests and experiments, Sarah began selling her chocolates at the Portland Farmer’s Market.

She opened Alma Chocolates in 2006. Since then, Sarah has taken her business online and opened two mini locations at the Cork Wine Shops in Northeast and Northwest Portland. She also continues to sell her treats at the Portland Farmer’s Market.

Although juggling her personal life and her business has been one of the biggest challenges, Sarah finds the time and resources to constantly stretch her skills as a chocolatier. This past year she traveled to France and took a bonbon-making class.

Sarah acknowledges the passion that drives her work ethic.

“I have always just loved that food is both creative and nurturing. It brings people together and creates community…it can be done with great love. I feel like we have a good reputation, and I want to keep pushing for that.”

Indeed, it’s a reputation worthy of Grandma Alma’s gilded legacy.

_____

Visit Alma Chocolate online at almachocolate.com or in person at 140 NE 28th Ave., Portland, Oregon, 503-517-0262.

Olivia lives in SE Portland and is working on her BA in Journalism and Theology at Multnomah University. She loves reading restaurant reviews, traveling, Frank Sinatra and Stumptown coffee.

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Defining Love for The One I Love

By Frederick G. Rodgers
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Watercolor by Joyce Lovro Gabriel

You have often said that the definition
of love is not to be found in any dictionary.
At last, I have found myself in total agreement
with you on that. It happens rarely, but you and
I recognize it instantly when it does.

Making the effort to define this in private and
in public word, it flies out of that cage of words
like a canary, dandelion-colored, seeing that
the door was again left open. You are correct:
love for another , if genuine, always defines--
-- or redefines itself like a clove-colored wren
abruptly chirping on a twig over to our right.


_____

Frederick has for a decade been retired from teaching English at all levels in the Portland area. His poetry has appeared in Portland Review, West Coast Review, Alchemy and Mentor.

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“Mooon”

By Jillian Starr
The Portland Upside
March 2010


Photo by Marlene Andrejco

“Moon.”
Your dad’s finger points into the dark sky, teaching a name.
You echo it back, maybe an extra “o” or two.
“Mooon.”

Morning whispers you awake, and over breakfast
(Skin smeared shiny with yogurt and banana)
You turn palms toward daylight and ask,
“Mooon?”
Your new word moves me to memory
Margaritas beneath a warm Chicago crescent, just before the plus sign
A bursting and anxious moon, nine months full
Blurry moons of sleepless nights, of breastfeeding and bottles
Moons that lulled us both into the luxury of sleep.

I dab your chin with a bib and explain simply
about daytime, nighttime, the sun, the stars.
You smile. Maybe even understand.
Then you outstretch your arms and joyfully wonder, “Mooon?”
And your word floats up like love floats
All those perfect o’s, like eggs in an ovary
spilling into daydreamed moons of tomorrows
Wide-eyed Christmas eves
Giggling little girl sleepovers
Fevers that fold you into my arms
Late night talks, heartbreak with ice cream
These precious movements of life held permanent in our forever
Mooon.

_____

Jillian Starr writes screenplays, poetry and short stories and co-produces Time Out: The Mother of All Comedies. You can find out more about her at jillianstarr.com


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Rediscovering adventure

By Eleanor Wolf
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Eleanor Wolf dusts off her wagon in preparation for a day of adventure around Portland with her friends and fellow members of The Big Kids Club.

One typical rainy day in Portland, five of my friends and I got together to catch up on one another’s lives. It was too cold and windy to go out, so we decided to stay inside, perhaps to watch an old movie. Getting up to click on the TV after our tea and cookies, I suddenly heard myself ask, “What the heck are we doing?”

Dorothy, the most outspoken of us, looked up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we could be doing so much more with our lives than just sitting here complaining and wasting time.”

Now that I’d gotten everyone’s attention, I continued.

“What if we started our own club?”

Everyone’s eyes widened and after a moment of silence, Janette chimed, “Yeah…we could call it the Big Kids Club…you know, for the kid in all of us!”

Then Arte, the intellectual, asked, “Does that mean we’ll all have to start acting crazy?”

For a moment we sat quietly, but I could practically hear the wheels turning.

“I think it’s a great idea,” said Susan. “I could sure use some play time.”

“Hey, that’s it! We could have a weekly play date!” I chimed. “I’ll drag out my old Radio Flyer like I used to when I was a kid.”

“You mean you have one of those too?” Janette laughed. “I’ve been trying to think up an excuse to pull mine out of the basement. It seems so lonely down there.”

Well, that’s how it all started a year ago. Just five women over 30 wondering what to do with themselves on a rainy day. From that two-hour session we came up with a series of ideas that have snowballed into a regular series of adventures.

All that’s required in the club is to bring a journal and pen, a camera, and a sack lunch. We make up the rest as we go along. Membership is free. The only prerequisite is to be spontaneous.

We all have an inner child just waiting for a chance to go out and play. It doesn’t have to cost an arm and a leg, either. A child has attributes that have long been forgotten in most of us. But if we think back, we realize that spontaneity and a sense of adventure are virtues worth rekindling.

For an idea of what our adventures are like, imagine a sunny day in Portland. We all wear our favorite color. Some of us go so far as to don a crazy hat. With our sack lunches and cameras, we pile into one car and then pick a direction. Our mission is to look for interesting places to stop. One of those places happens to be Washington Park and after our peanut butter sandwiches and fruit, we decide to take pictures.

“I’m going to write a poem,” says Janette. “What do you think I should call it?”

“It’s your poem,” I point out. “Why are you asking us?”

“Wait a minute,” Dorothy counters. “That’s a great idea. Let’s all write a poem together!”

So for the next twenty minutes, we each take turns adding a line.

Okay, so we didn’t win any poetry contests, but that isn’t the point. Our goal is to let go of our grown-up ideas for a day. A child doesn’t worry over semantics or politics or the price of eggs. A child can find interesting things to do with the least amount of stimulus. She is in awe of the world around her. She speaks up for herself. That’s what we’re attempting to recapture—the fluid, free-thinking, joyous sense of simply being alive!

After we’ve written our poem, we head south on McLoughlin Boulevard toward Oregon City. When we get to Gladstone, we stop at Cross Park.

“Look at what I found!” Janette calls. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Gathering around, we marvel at the smooth stone that has attracted her.

“Oh!” Dorothy coos. “I have to find one of those!”

Off she goes looking for the stone “with her name on it,” as she puts it. Like ducks pecking at the ground, we fan out and begin hunting down our special stones. In the process, we find an assortment of treasures, bits of plastic and glass that can be used in the collage we’ve decided we’ll create to commemorate our first fabulous day in the club.

To date, we’ve managed to write several children’s stories, create a photographic journal of our adventures, and honor the beauty so abundant in the Portland area. We alternate homes when the weather doesn’t cooperate. On those days we make cocoa and popcorn and watch children’s movies. We blow up balloons, dance to crazy music and sing our hearts out. We’ve even inspired others to start their own clubs and to share ideas for interesting adventures of their own.

Portland is a small town, but it has so many nooks and crannies. If you’d like to join our club or just come to get new ideas, we’re open to sharing in a big way. I’m certain we’ll never run out of places to explore, things to discover, people to meet. Simon says, Go ahead! Unleash the child in yourself!

_____

Eleanor Wolf writes a weekly column for The Coast Times. She is a passionate advocate of living with presence of mind. She has two grown children and a grandson, and lives with her husband in Milwaukie, Oregon.

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Horses used in therapy at new riding center

By Erika Weisensee
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Sycamore Lane Riding Center in Oregon City, Oregon, offers therapeutic horseback riding for a wide range of physical and mental conditions.

Dr. Suzanne Cleland-Zamudio is a surgeon, wife and mother of two teenaged sons. She works 50 to 60 hours a week, sometimes more. She is also writing a book about raising a son with autism. Suzanne has helped many people. Still, she felt something was missing and wanted to do more.

Two years ago after a vivid dream, Suzanne felt compelled to transform her family’s land into something meaningful for the community. She sat down with her husband Genaro and explained her idea.

“He said, ‘Let’s do it!’” she remembers.

So despite an already busy life, they cashed in their retirement and set out to build a nonprofit, state-of-the-art therapeutic riding center to serve children and adults with a wide range of physical and mental disabilities.

Located in Oregon City, Sycamore Lane Therapeutic Riding Center sits on five beautiful acres of land near the Clackamas River. The Cleland-Zamudios live on the property, which they share with 11 horses, several goats, and a cat named Oreo.

Suzanne grew up at Sycamore Lane, raising and training Welsh and Arabian cross ponies with her family. In 1999 after returning from Minnesota where she completed her medical residency, she purchased the farm from her mother and moved her own family to the land of her childhood.
When Suzanne and Genaro started their project in 2008, the property needed a lot of work. They began by demolishing the decrepit 100-year-old chicken house with the help of 50 or 60 friends.

“It was like Extreme Makeover, chicken house edition,” Suzanne says.

Within a few months, Suzanne’s dream was taking shape. First, she constructed a fireproof barn to house the center’s horses. The 120- by 60-foot covered arena came next, complete with a wheelchair ramp and harness to help lift wheelchair-bound riders to the horses. The property’s old “birthing barn” became the center’s new office and tack room. The facility was completed in July, 2009 and opened for lessons in August.

From the beginning, Suzanne was committed to “doing it right.” Sycamore Lane instructors are trained and certified by the North American Riding For the Handicapped Association (NARHA) and the facility is wheelchair/ADA compliant. The center also utilizes the services of two hippotherapists, one occupational therapist and one physical therapist.

Hippotherapy involves traditional physical, occupational or speech therapy in conjunction with the multi-dimensional movement of a horse.

But naturally, the ten therapy horses are the center’s stars. They are gentle animals, some with fascinating stories. Buster, for instance, rescued from Portland Meadows, came to Sycamore Lane with severe foot injuries. After careful attention from a veterinarian and a fitting with special shoes, he is now an excellent therapy horse. All the horses were carefully selected to adapt to many situations.

“They have to be okay with rattling hula hoops and other distractions,” Suzanne explains.

While therapeutic riding is more popular on the East Coast, its benefits are not as well known in the West, with only a few other therapeutic riding centers in the Northwest.

Therapeutic riding is believed to be an effective therapy for a variety of mental and physical conditions, including autism spectrum disorder, sensory integration and speech-language dysfunctions, traumatic brain injuries, stroke and Alzheimer’s disease. Patients receive treatment appropriate to their individual conditions and needs.

As Suzanne walks through her property, offering a tour of the arena, barn and tack room, she exudes passion and enthusiasm for her new calling.

“I wanted to serve a population that wasn’t getting served,” she says, “and I wanted to do it well.”

She is grateful to the dedicated volunteers who help make the center’s work possible and to the many people, including local contractors, who have donated funds, time, labor and materials.

“Starting up a nonprofit in the middle of a recession is not the easiest thing in the world,” she adds.

As a rider herself, Suzanne knows well the effect horses have on human emotion. When her son Antonio was diagnosed with autism, she saw the positive impact riding had for him. At the age of five and a half, Antonio made miraculous progress and was able to be mainstreamed in school. While Suzanne can’t explain her son’s transformation, she is eloquent about her desire to help other families experience breakthroughs for their children.

“We’ve already seen a few miracles happen here,” Suzanne says.

A couple of children have spoken their first words at the center. One of those children was atop his horse during a therapy session. He yelled, “Go!” to the surprise of his therapists and others in the arena who had never heard him speak before. Another child with a severe aversion to food ate his first solid food at the facility.

With about 18 riders—from children as young as three to middle-aged adults—Sycamore Lane is truly a place of inspiration and healing for everyone involved. And Suzanne has realized her dream to make a significant contribution to her community. Eventually she hopes to serve 40 to 60 riders per week.

____


For more information visit sycamorelane.org or call 503-593-7084.

Erika Weisensee is a Portland-area writer. She teaches journalism and communication courses at the University of Portland.

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