T HE PRIDE

Meet the 22 amazing Oregon student journalists who created this newspaper, wrote blog posts and produced audio slide shows for the Web.

A start on artsTime to get creative

in the summer | Page 18PHOTO BY KIMBERLY MEJIA

All-Muslim cemeteryIt’s the only one of its kind

in Oregon | Page 24 PHOTO BY SHAMSO ALI

oregon state university and the oregonian

june 2010blog.oregonian.com/teen

Latina identitys They learn to balance life in two cultures | Page 26

PHOTO BY MARCO REYES

WORDS OF THE AMBASSADORS

s

From left, row by row:

• Aidan Orellana | Page 38Madison High School, age 16

• Altrenia Littleton | Page 34Parkrose High School, age 14

• Brittany Nguyen | Page 37Tigard High School, age 18

• Dahlia Bazzaz | Page 31St. Mary’s Academy, age 16

• Erikka Potts | Page 39Parkrose High School, age 15

• Francisco Lopez-Bautista Page 35Molalla High School, age 17

• Hilaria De Jesus Hernandez Page 36Liberty High School, age 14

• Hosana Medhanie | Page 33De La Salle North Catholic, age 15

• Jason Liao | Page 29Franklin High School, age 18

• Kimberly Mejia | Page 35Century High School, age 16

• Marco Reyes | Page 39Tualatin High School, age 17

• Mary Ruiz | Page 38Tualatin High School, age 15

• Monica Melchor | Page 37Woodburn High School, age 16

• Musba Abasham | Page 30Parkrose High School, age 16

• Osman A. Omar | Page 31Parkrose High School, age 16

• Paulina Liang | Page 32Parkrose High School, age 16

• Sabra Chandiwalla | Page 29Franklin High School, age 17

• Shamso Ali | Page 33Westview High School, age 16

• Stephany Chum | Page 36Glencoe High School, age 16

• Tameeka LeRay | Page 30Parkrose High School, age 17

• Taylor Grady | Page 34Parkrose High School, age 17

• Yuca Kosugi | Page 32Sam Barlow High School, age 18

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The Class of 2010: Meet this year’s workshop journalists…

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Diversity is a fact. We may as well acknowledge it, pay attention to it. | Marty Hughley

Portraits by Fred Joe | Pride staff

Oregon State University is proud to host the High School Journalism Institute for a third year. This year we expanded the scope of the program and recruited students whose families have not had the opportunity to at-tend college or have faced poverty.

The OSU Division of Student Affairs and Precollege Programs stepped in to fund the food and housing for the camp, as well as stipends for non-Oregonian professionals who served as editors at the camp, so that we could continue to partner with The Or-egonian in offering this amazing experience. We are seeking financial support from out-side sources for future camps in the form of grants, matching funds and donations.

We do this work at OSU because diversity, integrity, respect and social responsibility are tenets upon which our mission is founded. The Student Media staff has been blessed to be a part of the magic the institute produces. The energy, enthusiasm and commitment of the 22 students at this year’s camp to write and rewrite their profiles and news stories, discuss what diversity means to them and then play hard when the work is done has been inspiring. We feel privileged for the op-portunity to share this week with them.

­–­Kami­Hammerschmithassistant director of Student Media

for Advertising and Marketing,Oregon State University

­Ann­Robinsonassistant director of Student Media,

Oregon State University

A few new wrinkles add up to another inspiring week

The Oregonian and Oregon State University welcomed 22 talented high school journalists from around the state to this year’s institute.

Throughout the nine-day program, students worked with professionals from The Oregonian and other journalism ex-perts to get hands-on training in report-ing, writing, shooting photos, producing audio slide shows, blogging and other multimedia elements.

This impressive 40-page newspaper and supplemental multimedia pieces are the result of countless hours of some-times-intimidating interviews, seem-ingly never-ending cycles of drafts, eye-popping photos and detailed audio slide shows.

The students who produced this high-quality work are ones we want to wel-come as co-workers in newsrooms of the future. Not only do they bring unique

skills, but they also offer diverse voices that are too often missing in newsrooms today. All of the students at this year’s program come from an under-repre-sented cultural or linguistic background, are low-income, the first in their family on track to attend university, have a dis-ability or come from a high school with-out a journalism program or newspaper. Multiple factors apply to a number of the students at this year’s institute.

Plenty of journalism camps already exist for high school students, but few are tailored to specifically address the problematic lack of newsroom diversity. The core goal of this program is to try to change that by helping talented high school journalists from diverse back-grounds find a path to professional jour-nalism.

­–­­Yuxing­Zheng,­institute director

Welcome to the High School Journalism Institute

The High School Journalism Institute would not occur without the generous support of:

• Oregon State University Student Affairs• The Oregonian, Publisher N. Christian Anderson III and Editor Peter Bhatia• Oregon State University, President Ed Ray, Vice Provost for Student Affairs Larry Roper

We would also like to thank the following people who served as editors, designers, guides and speakers at the institute:Margaret Anderson, Wally Benson, Joany Carlin, Randy Cox, Nerissa Ediza, Bruce Ely, Harry Esteve, Laura Gunderson, Janie Har, Marty Hughley, Fred Joe, David Johnson, Jack Kemp, Boon Kruger, Kim Melton, Melissa Navas, Wade Nkrumah, Gordon Oliver, Randy L. Rasmussen, Brandon Southward, Kristi Stahl, Amy Martinez Starke, Inara Verzemnieks, Gosia Wozniacka and Stephanie Yao Long. Tyree Harris and Nora Sanchez served as resident assistants. And, finally, we would like to thank Pro Photo Supply in Portland for their generous loan of cameras for our institute participants to use.

ABOVE: Altrenia Littleton focuses on a shaggy alpaca as she works on a piece about rural communities trying to survive the economic recession.

Photo by Hosana Medhanie

BELOW: Occasional comedy breaks relieve deadline tensions, as Erikka Potts (left) and Aidan Orellana demonstrate with editor Melissa Navas.

Photo by Fred Joe

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In our opinion…

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In our opinion…

By­Aidan­Orellana

I sat on the edge of the cushioned chair in our dorm’s lounge on the Oregon State University campus intently watching the France versus South Africa match, a critical match in the scheme of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

I was by myself.The absence of my journalism peers meant nothing to

me as a frantic South African soccer team tried to prevent itself from becoming one of the few host-country teams in the history of the World Cup to fail to advance to the second round.

During a fast break by South Africa, my phone started to vibrate. It was my editor calling to tell me I had to be at the newsroom to continue working on our story. I told him I was 30 seconds away even though I was on the other side of the campus, my eyes still glued to the enormous television.

I didn’t make it to the newsroom on time but I was able to see the ending of the game, and that’s the important thing. Prioritize, right?

Yelling at the TV and cheering by myself in that dark empty lounge is a microcosm of the United States’ role in the world of soccer over the last century. In the past, our country’s supporters have been overpowered by the mighty fan structures of global soccer powerhouses such as England, Argentina and Brazil.

Imagine filling the dorm’s lounge with 10 rabid soccer fanatics from other countries that take part in the World Cup, and then push me into the farthest corner of the room and stick a little American flag in my hand. You now have perspective on how much this sport has meant to this nation compared to the rest of the world.

I know that soccer doesn’t mean as much to a large portion of the country as it does to me, being a soccer player my whole life. But the United States’ support for the sport is starting to rapidly rise. We are starting to climb the same mountain that all the biggest soccer nations in the world are sitting upon. This year’s World Cup has everything to do with that.

The United States-England match early in the World Cup tournament drew 13 million viewers on ABC, making it the

most-watched first-round World Cup game in U.S. broadcast history. Four years ago, we ranked 23rd in the world as far as World Cup watchers go. This year we are anchored at No. 8, according to Mediaweek.

On June 23, the United States national team took on Algeria in a match that decided if we took the next flight home. We needed England to win or to tie with Slovenia or win for us to move to the knockout round. Luck was not on our side as we couldn’t execute on every chance we got to score. Things looked hopeless, but in the

91st minute Landon Donovan followed up on a rebounded shot from a teammate to put a “happily ever after” on a near-disaster turned fairy-tale ending to the first round.

That goal was not the only reason this nation is advancing at the top of our group of four teams for the first time in 80 years. It also signaled a major shift throughout the American public. Soccer fans from coast to coast are uniting just like all the other global soccer powers have for generations.

Ever since the establishment of sports in this country, Major League Baseball, the National Basketball Association and the National Football League have left little room for the game that has brought unification to the broken and peace to the war-torn. For too long the game that is considered the universal language has been one that this country hasn’t spoken. I had always hoped that there would be a time when more Americans would realize that soccer is the common blood type of the world.

Well, that time is now.There will always be people who think soccer is a

senseless game and that it should stay in foreign countries. I can’t change that. But maybe, just maybe, by the 2014 World Cup, there will be a few more fans joining me in that dark, empty lounge.

Make room on the couch, soccer fans

By­Dahlia­Bazzaz

Stepping off the plane at the Imam Khomeini airport, a merciless wave of heat whips my face. I am in the Middle East, the land of sand, camels and a way of life most Americans do not understand. I walk through the dusty terminals, gasping for my pure, Oregon air in the musky land of Tehran, Iran. After about 15 minutes, I see a row of colored scarves and hefty men waiting at the arrivals section.

“That’s them, Dahlia,” my mother says. “See that short one on the right? That’s Yasemine. She’s your age, you guys will be best friends. The one in the middle is Khala Mariam, my sister. Remember to speak Arabic, be polite and greet everyone.”

I’m kissed on the cheek no less than 55 times. Our belongings are shoved into the trunk of a dinky car. The drive to Dolat Abad, the predominantly Iraqi suburb of Tehran, takes ages. With the temperature hovering around 98 degrees, the air conditioner broken and Uncle droning on about President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the crazy fool, I contemplate notifying the U.S. Embassy for a rescue attempt.

The truth is, along with severe boredom and irritating cousins, the long, hot drive was the worst thing I encountered in Iran. What I had not realized until recently is that I have a different perspective than most who read the news or watch CNN. Along with riots, corrupt government and suppression of free speech, Iran also has beautiful mountains, delicious pistachio ice cream and women who make up 60 percent of the college population.

While I realize that news is supposed to be composed of material that is shocking and newsworthy, it is frustrating when I come across people who form their opinions based on what they see on TV. There are two sides to every story. The slipshod supposition that Iran is a terrible and corrupt country could not be more false. One cannot judge a country and its people solely on its government. Just as I defend the image of Iran’s rich culture and people, I also defend the population of the United States when Middle Easterners make the same generalizations.

As I walk through the streets of Tehran, observing the hustle and bustle of the city, the culture shock hits me.

“Mama, why is everyone wearing a head scarf like me?” I say.

“It’s required here. All women must wear them by law,” she explains.

Being a member of Western society, I find it shocking to see every woman covering her hair. I was raised with the value that hijab was something to wear with pride, and to wear it forcibly defeats the

purpose. Riding the plane back home, the non-hijabi women rush into the cramped bathrooms to rip off their headscarves and fluff their hair.

Probably the most interesting discovery I made in Iran has to do with fashion. Though some people may think the Iranian people are dedicated to rejecting the Western way of life and thinking, a clear rebellion against the government shows in their clothing. Men walk through the streets in muscle T-shirts, jeans and Nike products (mostly fake — the United States cut off imports to Iran long ago.) Women sport skinny jeans, vibrant scarves and layers of cosmetics.

Though I am Iraqi, many aspects of my life include characteristics of Iranian culture. The Arabic dialect spoken in Iraq has heavy Iranian influences. The violence in Iraq forced my grandparents into Iran. My parents strategically use a language that was not taught to us, Farsi, to talk without being understood.

As I study journalism, I hope to correct mistakes the media has made with their tendency to neglect positive news from not only Iran, but the entire Middle East.

An eye-opening trip to Iran

By­Taylor­Grady

Every generation has had one thing that ties it together, be it a band, a TV show, a movie or anything under the sun. It can change who someone is or just be a fond memory of their childhood.

Well, ADD generation: We’ve found ours. Our Led Zeppelin, our “Happy Days,” our “Breakfast Club”: “Toy Story.”

At the age of 3, I witnessed the beginning of the “Toy Story” legend for the first time. As were many kids my age, I was so taken with it that I memorized Woody’s entire speech — the one when he takes the plastic microphone and speaks to the whole group of toys. Did I have any clue what he was saying? Probably not. But when I think back to the first movie, a wave of nostalgia crashes over me.

The attachment lasted into my teen years, even if I wasn’t always aware of it. I hadn’t thought about the movies in ages, but when my German teacher, Herr Schu, laid out a pile of McDonald’s toys and told us to pick one, I nearly fell and split my head open trying to retrieve Buzz Lightyear. Sitting on my table at home is my Woody doll, with that goofy Tom Hanks smile, I got from McDonald’s when I was young. (Compare my Buzz and Woody and you’ll find the older of the two is of EXCEPTIONALLY better quality, though they turned out to be of nearly proportionate size to each other as in the movie.) To this day, I curse the toy’s manufacturers for not putting bottoms on the Woody doll’s boots. I assume it was to solve Woody’s snake problem (“There’s a snake in mah boot!,” he cries when his string is pulled). But I so wanted to scratch my name onto one.

Clearly, the “Toy Story” series was extremely important to me as a child and has remained so 13 years later. When I entered the theater the other night, there were very few small children, if any. The only ones I saw were there to see the fourth “Shrek” movie. The thing about it was, I wasn’t even EXPECTING to see small children at “Toy Story 3.” (And it was a good thing there weren’t any when it came to an extremely intense, overwhelming, acceptance-of-imminent-death moment near the end of the movie.)

When I learned, after around 12 years of waiting, that the third movie was finally going to be released, I reverted back to toddler mode. That was MY movie — not just any “kid’s” movie. The “Toy Story” trilogy belongs to my generation. The movie grew with us (as did Andy). It became a little world of our own that, even though we were toddlers when it was created, we could always return to. I think what a child would see in the third movie is, “Ooh, talking toys.”

What we see is drama, suspense. The toys are in a desperate struggle for a loving owner. There’s a battle inside them between returning to their now-17-year-old owner who they love but who has outgrown them, or being played with by an unfamiliar child. (I won’t spoil it by revealing which they choose.) Their sense of abandonment and loss of a home to return to echoes in us teens who entered this world in the midst of prosperity and fell victim to the dwindling economy, many of us losing homes ourselves. We care. We care immensely.

Needless to say, my reaction toward the movie’s release was not the only time I reverted back to childhood. I cried like a newborn at least three times during the movie, suppressing powerful sobs at the very end. I prayed I wasn’t the only one. But it turns out another camp member, our very own Osman Omar, shed a few tears. (It was rumored that Tyree Harris, our outwardly masculine resident adviser, did as well, but he denies it.)

To my generation: This is our story. Own it. Cherish it.Oh, and see it in 3-D. It rules.

The ‘Story’ of our lives, in 3-D

By­Osman­A.­Omar

Women have fought for the right to vote and the right to equality.

Now I, Osman Ali Omar, am here to fight, demand and yell for the right to feel and smell good. You all know what I mean by this: I am talking about Victoria’s Secret Berry Kiss lotion. The debate among Francisco, Tyree, Musba and me has gone too far. It has reached the point where the other guys at journalism camp call Musba and me Berry Kiss and Lots-O’-Huggin’ Bear. These berry haters have reverted to saying that it is a sin against everything sacred to humanity to wear this beyond-sweet-and-fruity lotion.

But I ask: How can sinning feel so good?Not every man can feel soft and still be manly (you

know who you are!). It takes a true man to be proud of his Victoria’s Secret lotion. It takes a man who is secure and outrageously handsome to pull off something like this; a man who is willing to defy norms and shape our culture. This appealing young man is me.

And you know what? I’m proud of it.During my first couple of days at camp, my

female colleagues congratulated me on my fragrant lotion. Still, some of my closest friends, who don’t know the wonders of Berry Kiss lotion, wonder why I use it.

The only response that I will give to that is this: If I feel good, smell good and look good, then what’s good?

As long as I’m not ashy or stinky, I’m good.At the end of the day it comes down to insecurity. The

men who say they don’t want to smell like women are scared. The guys’ insecurity about their manhood is what’s making them miss out on one of the most awesome things I have encountered in my 16 years and 11 months on this Earth.

Why do men have to defend themselves when it comes to these types of topics?

What amazes me is when a person does something that doesn’t fit what society thinks is right, or what is considered the “norm,” then people want to knock that person down.

Society says a man should be tough and the opposite of anything feminine. Men are never supposed to reveal their feelings. And, at journalism camp, men are not supposed to wear women’s lotion.

So naturally, when a man shows any of these characteristics then he is not manly, even though he is male.

So men out there, the next time someone offers you Berry Kiss, don’t walk away. Stick out your ashy elbows, and don’t let haters put you in a box.

If only this were scratch ‘n’ sniff paper

By­Monica­Melchor

I was 3 when I heard the loudest door slam. And I saw the longest river of tears. Under my goose bumps I knew something had gone wrong. Some children cry, some children throw fits, but I stayed still. Frightened.

That was the day he left. Gone. Vanished.I would like to tell you that my father soon

returned. But the truth is, he didn’t. He was no longer in my life, yet memories of him were fresh in my head. I remember riding a tricycle while he walked by my side.

I asked my mother where he had gone. She stayed silent. I watched her wake up early, and go to bed exhausted. And every day of the week was the same. My grandma took care of my older sister and me while my mother was away. She told us stories, and taught us many things. In 2001, she passed away. I felt the same pain that I had felt when my father left. I didn’t know how people could walk in and out of your life in a flash.

Life was harder after that. Without our grandma, it was up to my sister, Ismari, to make sure I ate meals and did my homework. Once a week I talked to my father, who was in California. My conversations with him were always the same. “How are you?” “How’s school?” And he always ended with: “Don’t forget that I love you.” I cherished those words.

Birthdays passed, and I turned 8. That summer I flew down to California to see my father for the first time since I was 3. I was nervous, scared and happy.

That was when I saw him. I wished that the moment would last, always. My father, sister and I spent every day together. He showered us with gifts. It was cool for a while, until I noticed that I didn’t want his gifts; I just wanted him to come back.

One day, on my way to the kitchen, I wandered into his room. On his desk, next to his watches and cologne was a picture of a woman. I didn’t know who she was, but I knew what the picture meant. My heart fell.

I came back home to my mother in Woodburn. We would go visit my father again, but the last time I saw him was at my sister’s quinceñera. I was 13. After that, he stopped calling me on my birthday. I started to hate him. I wanted to go to California and yell at him and his new family. I wanted to yell at his new wife, and tell her how much she had ruined my life.

Through all of this, my mother was there for me. Araceli Alvarez told me not to hate him and she encouraged me never to give up. She worked two jobs and smiled, when there was nothing to smile about. She never showed her pain. I think it was because she didn’t want us to see her as a weak person. But I never saw her that way.

Sometimes I wonder what if he could have seen me graduate from middle school, and seen me cheer, and know that I had been accepted to a journalism camp. But then again, he would just know part of my life. One thing I am glad of is that my mother saw all of that. She saw me struggle and fall, and doubt and fail. She carried me and picked me up, and most of all she made me open my eyes and see the world. She was there.

Things happen for a reason. I’m nothing like my father. I’ve learned to accept the fact that he is gone. But my mother will forever stay in my heart.

Things happen for a reason; thanks, Mom

By­Yuca­Kosugi

I look around, making sure that I am alone in the room, then meekly look into the mirror on the wall, I see a girl, an Asian girl. Well that’s strange, I think.

In my early years of elementary school when I was only starting to recognize different races, a few kids made fun of me for having small eyes. It didn’t hurt because I had plenty of friends there. I was more shocked than anything. It didn’t occur to me that I was any different from every other kid around me until I looked into that mirror after that incident. It made me despise my yellow skin.

If there were one thing that my family taught me in my life, it would be to look at a challenge as an opportunity. It took me a while to realize that being Japanese is an opportunity.

There were never more than a handful of other Asians in my grade throughout my education. We lived in a white-dominated community where the only two black kids in school were star players in football, basketball and track.

After the initial stale feelings, I subconsciously decided that I would just ignore the fact that I was different. So I never made an attempt to better my understanding of the language or culture that my

parents lived.Sometime during

eighth grade, it all changed. My mom wanted me to watch a Japanese TV drama series that was based on a true story of a girl with a degenerative disease.

Something clicked. I started watching Japanese TV shows regularly. I also became hooked on the music. My broken Japanese became more fluid by the day, which delighted my parents.

My interest in Japan spiked. I had never wanted to travel there before, but I’ve gone three times in the last three years.

I see something different when I look into a mirror now. I am proud to be Japanese, have the black hair and almond eyes. I am now able to recognize that I’m lucky to be fluent in a different language and be a part of a different culture.

Near the end of the school year, I was assigned a cartoon for the Bruin Banner, the school paper at Sam Barlow High, and I was completely dry of ideas. Way past deadline, I was stuck in the newsroom staring at a clean sheet of paper, cartoon undrawn.

As I glared down at the paper willing the cartoon to draw itself, one of my co-editors came up and asked me to copy-edit her column. I wasn’t being productive anyway so I agreed, only to find that it was the key to breaking my drawing block.

The editor, who is white, had written about reverse discrimination rooted in her frustration about not being able to apply to some sort of journalism camp. The piece started with “I’m tired of being white . . . ” and was well-written. Although I did not agree with her completely, it prompted me to draw a cartoon in response.

“I’m tired of being Asian . . . ” I wrote with my cartoon handwriting across the top of my paper. The cartoon depicts a short Asian girl surrounded by two people who ask the girl, “Can you do kung fu?,” “Can you speak Chinese?” and “Are your eyes open?”

The girl wears an annoyed expression, answering, “No.”

I was able to produce a piece like this only because of how comfortable I was with myself, and it triggered many positive responses. On top of that I found out about this camp.

So here I am now, at my current opportunity called journalism camp.

Reflections on a reflection in the mirror

n See more commentaries online at:oregonlive.com.camp

Also find commentaries from 2009.

Page � | June �010

Diversity is a big part of our everyday lives. Without it, society would be kind of mundane. | Aidan Orellana

By­Dahlia­Bazzaz­and­Yuca­Kosugi

Leaning forward on the sofa, Willen Sin furrows his eyebrows as he recalls the his-toric election in 2008. He had turned 18 just in time to register and vote, along with two out of every three young voters, for Barack Obama.

“A lot of people connected with him be-cause he was more familiar with basketball, sports and entertainment,” says Sin, a junior majoring in marketing at Oregon State Uni-versity in Corvallis.

But when it comes to the Oregon guber-natorial elections this November, that con-nection quickly fades. Since the ballots will be mailed to his parents’ home in Portland, Sin doesn’t plan to vote at all.

“I’m too lazy to reach out and get the ballot,” he admits.

This is the case for many young voters both in Oregon and across the country. In the 2008 presidential primary, 33 percent of Or-egon youth under 24 voted, making it one of their highest turnouts since the 1960s. Most of the increase can be attributed to Obama’s provocative and influential campaign.

According to the Pew Research Cen-ter, 66 percent of those under age 30 voted for Obama, making the disparity between young voters and other age groups larger than in any presidential election since exit polling began in 1972.

Jeremy Hansen, a 22-year-old senior majoring in psychology at OSU, explains why the Chicago Democrat and former U.S. senator appealed to younger voters.

“Obama is a pretty young guy compared to all the others,” Hansen says. “People can relate to him and he knows better how life is like for the average, poorer citizen.”

However, the enthusiasm for political activism and voting sparked by Obama’s campaign dwindles year by year. Only 14 percent of registered voters under 24 cast ballots in the 2010 gubernatorial primary election in Oregon.

Bill Lunch, professor of political science at OSU, says a surge and decline happens every two years and it’s nothing out of the

ordinary. But the influx of young voters triggered by the 2008 race was nonetheless a phenomenon.

The big question is whether turnout will remain high among younger voters.

“It doesn’t seem terribly likely to me, but it may happen,” says Lunch, express-ing doubt that the people who cast their first ballot in 2008 will stay active in the Novem-ber election. “It’s too early to tell.”

Generally speaking, people are averse when it comes to politics. For some people, the last time they were exposed to the sub-ject was in their high school civics class taught by a football coach, Lunch says, only half joking.

Politics is complicated and it takes time

to research each candidate.“To most people, they find that politics is

a distant and unwelcome visitor who comes to their doorstep every two or four years,” says Lunch. “They’d rather go dig a hole in their backyard than listen to politics.”

Just ask Becca Zanon, a 20-year-old ju-nior majoring in fitness and nutrition who works as a clerk at Urban Laundry, right off campus. She says she voted for Republican Sen. John McCain of Arizona in 2008, but has since tuned out news about candidates and voting.

“I’m annoyed with politics,” says Zanon as she folds a shirt and places it on a display table.

Along with the psychological reasons for

voting that differ with age and experience, some reasons for neglecting a vote are plain and simple. As Mark Kempton, a 23-year-old grad student puts it:

“Young people don’t vote simply be-cause they are too busy. It’s not like a job where you get home and you’re done for the day. Students have 24/7 jobs, which involve work at home and school.”

The concern for the voting rate among young people goes beyond mere statistics. Apathy has a price, says Oregon House Speaker Dave Hunt, D-Gladstone.

“If younger voters voted at the same rate as older ones, it would change the whole agenda,” he says. Issues such as afford-ability of college tuition, community col-lege funding and K-12 education would get more attention in the state Legislature and in Washington, D.C.

Kate Brown, Oregon’s secretary of state, worries about the lack of young voters and says she is working on the problem.

Brown, who oversees Oregon elections, plans to use federal dollars under the Help America Vote Act to provide better civics education in Oregon schools. Her goal for the November 2010 election is 40 to 45 per-cent young voter turnout. She echoes Hunt’s concerns about who has influence and who doesn’t.

“Senior citizens are driving political pol-icy in this nation,” she says.

Other projects launched to encourage voting include television commercials with diverse or “hip” people, allowing 17-year-olds to register in preparation, and creating a slimmed-down version of the Oregon Blue Book, a hefty resource for all things pertain-ing to Oregon government.

Nestled in her chair at a discreet OSU café, 27-year-old Kim Smith explains the vigor for voting in 2008. Her shrinking pos-ture straightens, and with a flick of her hair, she tells of Obama’s charisma.

When asked whether the voting spike will keep up in future elections, she strug-gles to answer.

“I hope so. I hope young people vote,” she says.

Voting fever among younger people may have cooled

Inspired by Obama in 2008, a surge by voters under 24 has started to wane

Kim Smith, 27, non-student: “I hope young people vote.”

Jeremy Hansen, 22,senior psychology

major:“When picking

a candidate I pick the lesser of two evils.”

Shannon Lundberg, 31, grad student:

“Being informed is a civic duty. Voting uninformed is

problematic.”

Mark Kempton, 23, grad student:

“Young people don’t vote simply because they are too busy.”

Willen Sin, 19, junior, marketing major:

“I’m too lazy to reach out and get

the ballot.”

Becca Zanon, 20, junior, fitness and nutrition major:

“People are realizing that they have a voice.”

Oregon Secretary of State Kate Brown, 50: “I’m a firm believer that every vote counts.”

Photos by Yuca Kosugi and Dahlia Bazzaz

Page � | June �010

We’re all human beings, so we should all just be one. | Kimberly Mejia

By­Monica­Melchor­­and­Osman­A.­Omar

Walking down the gravel road, you can almost taste the smell of spoiled food and gas. The reek penetrates the lungs, nose and soul.

Off to the left are 10 large mounds of cooking compost. Each mound is covered in plastic tarp and is 80 feet long. In a sepa-rate pile, scraps of rotten dried apples, small watermelons and vegetables lie squashed between waxy cardboard boxes.

Pacific Region Compost Facility, eight miles north of Corvallis, is the only place in Oregon that takes dairy and meat left-overs — along with run-of-the-mill green waste — and breaks them down into rich compost. Supporters, including the mayor of Corvallis, say composting diverts trash from filling up valuable landfill space. Cali-fornia and Washington are leaders in food composting.

“This is very new to Oregon,” said Brian May, site manager for Allied Waste Services of Corvallis, the trash company that oper-ates the compost facility. It is a Republic Services company.

Interviews with some residents this month show that not all people are enthu-siastic about recycling food. It is easier to use the garbage disposal, they say. Spoiling food can smell bad, discouraging people from saving their scraps.

“It is sometimes helpful, but it is a pain in the butt,” said Monica Nieves,

one of the homeowners. People usually throw their leftovers into

a trash can or down a garbage disposal, which goes into the ground and generates methane. In late 2008, Allied Waste started picking up “pre-consumer waste,” which in-cludes potato peelings and other food that is not eaten, from businesses in Corvallis.

Last November, the company started col-lecting “post-consumer waste,” which con-sists of leftovers, including oil, dairy and meat. In June, Corvallis became the first city in Oregon to compost dairy and protein products from all households. That’s about 13,000 homes.

Here’s how food composting works on two acres at Pacific Region Compost Facil-ity: Workers pick through piles of rotting food and take out plastic and other non-or-ganic material. The matter is broken down, then mixed with regular yard debris and covered with a plastic tarp for 45 days. Then it spends another 45 days cooling. Finally, a machine checks for noncomposted chunks.

“It’s just a simple, natural process,” said Julie Jackson, recycling representative with Allied Waste.

Oregon State University was part of the pilot project that started in 2008. In a typical academic week, the university’s three dining halls generate 3,000 pounds of food scraps. That is equivalent to 360 gallons of water or one half of one Asian female elephant.

At Marketplace West Dining Center, leftover food is composted. The process is simple. A person takes leftover food on their

tray to a stack of metal racks that are taken to the back. There, workers sort the food from items that can’t be composted, such as plastic.

“I’m hoping that in time, I see all din-ing facilities going in that direction,” said Andrea Norris, who is a recycling outreach coordinator at OSU.

“The plan is to expand; the only problem now is to find out how we can do that.”

Norris says some people do not know what composting is, so they do not partici-pate.

She gave an example: When she lived in an apartment she had to persuade her man-ager to order a compost bin. The manager was not familiar with composting. Unlike her manager, Norris grew up in a family where recycling was a habit, and she carried this habit with her throughout life.

It’s trash pickup day at RiverGreen Es-tates, a subdivision neighborhood in south Corvallis filled with newer homes and nice

gardens. Trash and compost bins wait like guards at Buckingham Palace, in a single file line down the street and on the curb.

A snake slithers out of a hole in the side-walk. Bees buzz in the sun, and spiders dan-gle from a flowerpot. The peaceful day is interrupted only by the whoosh of garbage trucks on their stops along their routes.

A woman walking two dogs said she pre-fers to use her garbage disposal.

“Too many of us have too long been do-ing it the other way,” said the woman, who declined to give her name.

Bonnie Philipson, who was moving into the neighborhood, stopped her unpacking to talk. She has composted in the past, she said, and she might again. “It’s a great idea.”

John Charles, CEO and President of the Cascade Policy Institute, a free-market think tank in Portland that promotes limited government, said food composting is a great idea, but government should not mandate it.

It takes a “little bit of time and almost no effort,” said Charles, who composts at home.

Corvallis Mayor Charles C. Tomlinson said the city does not require residents to recycle their food. Still, he wants people to recycle 100 percent of what they use. Right now, the city is recycling a little less than 50 percent of its waste.

“One day, in your life, I predict people will go and mine the trash dumps for alumi-num and metal so as to get what we could not get,” he said.

When food scraps become a recyclable resourceA Corvallis company combines with the city

to turn food waste into useful compost

ABOVE: Brian May, site manager for Allied Waste, says food scraps are cooked under black plastic tarps for 45 days, then cooled for 45 days before being put on a screening machine and sold to consumers as compost that’s good for the soil.

Photo by Osman A. Omar

Page � | June �010

If there wasn’t diversity, you would just hang out with your type. | Altrenia Littleton

By­Erikka­Potts­and­Stephany­Chum

The Pride celebration has gained a foot-hold in Corvallis, thanks in large part to the unwavering commitment, dedication and exhaustive efforts of Tristen Shay and Chel-sea Whitlow.

Last year, in less than six months, they marshaled the human power and commu-nity resources to pull off the “First Annual” PRIDE Corvallis event.

“We decided that we would just do it,” Whitlow said.

She and Shay faced the short timeline un-daunted. Others, though, wondered whether they could pull it off.

“Late January is when we got started, so we spent four frantic months going around to community groups and pitching ideas and getting donations,” Whitlow said. “We went to a bunch of groups in town and they told us we were crazy, but if we wanted to do it, they were behind us.”

In June 2009, Corvallis became one of at least six cities in Oregon with a Pride event, joining Portland, Eugene, Salem, Bend and Lincoln City.

“I think a lot of people didn’t think this type of event could happen and succeed in Corvallis,” Whitlow said. “Now that they’ve seen it, they’re really starting to get on board.”

Nicholas Rhodes, a 23-year-old student at Oregon State University, said Pride cel-ebrations can be “healing for a lot of people and lets people accept themselves for who they are.”

“If you’re in a small town in Oregon and all of a sudden you see Pride coming to small towns like Bend and Corvallis ... that’s really huge. That’s such an affirma-tion of identity.”

Shay, 28, grew up in Philomath. Whit-low, 25, moved to Corvallis in 2003 from Stillwater, OK. They said a big part of their motivation to establish an annual Corvallis-based Pride event was rooted in their work with local LGBTQ youth.

“I think, as well as making the town feel more open and welcoming, a lot of our drive for doing this event were the youth that we worked with and their lack of feeling sup-ported in town,” Whitlow said.

“Corvallis is very lovely. It’s very nice. But it can still feel hostile, and youth, espe-cially, don’t have a place to go. We really wanted to give them that feeling that you get a pride of, ‘I belong; there are other people like me.’ ”

About four years ago, Shay and Whitlow started Out-N-About, a support group for

lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer or questioning youth.

In November 2008, a group interested in starting a Pride celebration approached Shay and Whitlow to see how LGBTQ youth could be involved in the event. But in January 2009, Whitlow and Shay learned from the group that it would not be receiv-ing the grant needed to fund the event, and

that the group could not move forward with-out the grant.

When Shay and Whitlow decided to pick up the baton and move ahead with organiz-ing a Pride celebration, they found support in many corners of the community.

Leading the way was Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, a national organization that has a Corvallis chapter and more than 360 others across the country.

PFLAG also is one of this year’s primary PRIDE Corvallis sponsors, which also include Community Alliance for Diversity, City of Corvallis, Hewlett-Packard, Ellipsis Design, Out-N-About and Rainbow Health Resources.

Such support is very encouraging for Shay and Whitlow. They said last year’s inaugural celebration drew some negative comments in online postings.

“We had a lot of comments ranging from, ‘How dare you do this sort of event in our town; do you really think people want to see this?; why would you want to bring children to this event,’ “ Shay said.

Second time around is another charm for PRIDE Corvallis

Chelsea Whitlow and Tristen Shay, co-organizers and friends, help make local celebration a truly annual event

Page � | June �010

It’s the only way you include everybody in the conversation. | Kristi Stahl

By­Stephany­Chum­­and­Erikka­Potts

The PRIDE Corvallis 2010 parade marked an important and exciting first for state Rep. Sara Gelser, D-Corvallis.

“I have never been the grand marshal of any kind of parade,” she said lightheart-edly, looking ahead to her big moment at the parade.

“My understanding of my role is to ride in the convertible and wave,” she added, noting that she “actually did send the or-ganizer a note to ask what does one wear when they are the Grand Marshal of a pa-rade.”

Gelser was surprised about her selec-tion but happily accepted.

“I think the more important part of it is just demonstrating my support of equality for all people, how proud I am and how fortunate I feel that the organizers would invite me to have such a prominent role.”

Steven Leider, a volunteer for the pa-rade committee, says Gelser has been “a big and important part of bringing equality to Oregon on behalf of LGBTQ causes.”

Gelser, 36, was born in Las Vegas and moved back and forth from Las Vegas and small towns in Indiana as a young child. When she was 8, her family moved back to Las Vegas and lived there until she left for college in Indiana at 16. Just before going to Earlham College, her parents moved to Corvallis in July 1990.

“I was very frustrated with them for leaving my town and my friends, and I told them I would never even come and visit them,” Gelser said.

“Obviously that changed,” she said, smiling.

“I got married in college, I was having a baby and we wanted to live near grand-parents. My husband’s family was from the Boston area and I don’t like snow. So, we came to Oregon (in June 1994), and I love it here.”

Gelser’s family includes her husband, Peter, a 15-year-old son and daughters ages 12, 10 and 9.

Her son was born with a genetic syn-drome and has developmental and intel-lectual disabilities, Gelser said. Over the years, she has met and worked extensively with other families with children who have similar disabilities.

In the 1990s, she was appointed by then-Gov. John Kitzhaber to the state In-teragency Coordinating Council, which focused on services to infants and toddlers with disabilities.

Also, while working for Linn-Benton Community College, Gelser said, she de-veloped “Living and Learning With Your Child With Special Needs.” The class helped families with children with disabil-ities engage with each other, understand the insurance system and access educa-tional services.

“But our biggest goal was to help fami-lies really learn to enjoy their kids, and see that their kids were kids first,” Gelser said.

Her involvement and work in the state Legislature as chairwoman of the House Education Committee has reinforced for Gelser the importance of equal access for all.

“Whatever your disability, whatever the color of your skin, no matter how much

money your parents make, all kids have great potential to do good things.”

The same belief rings true for Gelser as it relates to the Pride celebration.

“The whole idea of the Pride parade is that you’re bringing people together and recognizing that whatever your sexual ori-entation or whatever you choose or iden-tify with and how you build your family life, you should be proud of who you are and not be afraid to express who you are.”

The event returned this year with “Over the Rainbow” as the theme for PRIDE Corvallis 2010.

The June 25-26 festivities included the Stonewall Dance and Social and the parade, featuring state Rep. Sara Gelser, D-Corvallis, as Grand Marshal.

At Central Park, there was a nonprofit fair with food and other vendors; face paint-ing, a scavenger hunt, storytelling and more for children.

There also were belly dancers and a drag show, and entertainment by Johanna, Con-fluence, Tirade and Willamette Valley LGBT Chorus.

Feedback about this year’s event and fes-tivities has been much more positive.

“We make it very family friendly because there’s a huge population of lesbian and gay families in Corvallis, specifically, and they have kids,” Shay said.

“When we were asking about some of that originally, what the community wanted, they were saying, ‘We don’t want Portland Pride. We don’t want San Francisco Pride.’ ”

Shay and Whitlow said that meant Corvallis PRIDE would be less oriented toward the young, singles crowd. No beer gardens. No crazy, wild parties. The commu-nity, they said, wanted an event where kids would be welcome, too.

“So, this year, when we started getting the same sort of comments on our advertise-ments in the newspaper, it was really great because we had lots of people commenting back to these people who were saying hate-ful things,” Shay said, noting that some sup-porters were straight parents with kids.

They were “saying, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went last year and I took all my kids and they had a great time and it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. I wanted them to be able to see this sort of diversity in Corvallis, and it was awesome.’ ”

That sentiment was echoed by Rebecca Chavez, a 22-year-old senior at Oregon State who is Internal Coordinator of the universi-ty’s Pride Center.

“I think having it in Corvallis is exciting because the closest thing I’ve ever been ex-posed to in Oregon in relation to the LGBT community is Pride in Portland,” she said.

“So, having it in Corvallis shows me that the community is accepting and really want-ing to include everybody to celebrate differ-ences and freely express themselves.”

Shay and Whitlow say the future is bright for PRIDE Corvallis, which last week was in-corporated as a nonprofit. Shay said PRIDE Corvallis joins about a dozen nonprofits in Corvallis dedicated to LGBTQ issues.

“I think our goal right now is to see this event continue year after year,” Shay said. “See it grow to a larger event.

“Ultimately, I think our goal is to see PRIDE Corvallis grow into the sort of group that can support the other nonprofit groups in town … and being the group that tries to bring them together. So, we need to work smarter, not harder, together as a commu-nity.”

AT LEFT: Steven Leider, a parade volunteer for PRIDE Corvallis 2010, collects flags earlier this month at the Pride Center on Oregon State University’s campus. The flags were carried by people who marched in the June 26th parade.

Photo by Erikka Potts

BELOW LEFT: Chelsea Whitlow (left) and Tristen Shay, co-founders of PRIDE Corvallis, say the celebration delivers a message of acceptance and inclusiveness. “It’s just a very happy, celebratory event,” Whitlow says. “It’s welcoming, very friendly.”

Photo by Stephany Chum

Rookie for a dayVeteran lawmaker Sara Gelser rides in Pride Parade as a first-time Grand Marshal

RIGHT: State Rep. Sara Gelser, D-Corvallis, working this month in her office at the State Capitol in Salem, says she was excited to be Grand Marshal for the PRIDE Corvallis parade. “I was surprised to be asked, and I’m really grateful.”

Photo by Stephany Chum

Page 10 | June �010

Any sort of hatred should be diminished ... you don’t want to look back and say ‘I didn’t try.’ | Francisco Lopez-Bautista

By­Aidan­Orellana­and­Paulina­Liang

Get close to the big green biogas plant at Stahlbush Island Farms near Corvallis and an overpowering smell fills the air.

The smell is a necessary by-product of converting waste from the 4,500 acre farm into electricity, steam, hot water and fertil-izer. A pipe outside the plant is churning out composted waste, which had been stored in a large underground tank, to mix it with air as part of the process of turning the waste into energy.

The biogas digester, which opened last summer, turns vegetable waste from food processing into methane-rich biogas. The gas fuels a generator that can produce 1.6 megawatts of electricity, enough to power 1,100 homes at full operation. The farm uses about half that amount, and any surplus is sold to Pacific Power to be used elsewhere.

The plant cost $10 million to build, and is among the first biogas plants to operate on a farm in North America. Stahlbush, owned by Bill and Karla Chambers, gets calls al-most daily from farmers and others who want to find out if they can follow Stahlbush Island’s lead.

Some believe that plants like this one, if they become more common, could reduce the nation’s dependence on heavily pollut-ing energy sources such as coal.

David E. Hackleman, an Oregon State

University professor and head of the col-lege’s engineering program, states that ex-panded use of biogas plants could reduce the need for coal energy, resulting in a greener atmosphere.

“I can see potential for really reducing energy use in the United States,” he says.

The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and U.S. Department of Agricul-ture will spend $3.9 million to develop bio-gas plants on farms, according to Scientific American. The magazine says about 8,000 farms would be good candidates for biogas plants.

It’s not the first time that Stahlbush Is-land has been a leader in technology or en-vironmental protection. The huge farm was among the first to use Global Positioning System technology to operate farm equip-ment. More recently, the farm has started packaging frozen foods in compostable bags. A portion of the farm has been certi-fied sustainable since 1997, and part of the farm has been certified organic since 2003.

“Change is always good for business,” says Katie Chambers, daughter of the farm’s owners and a student in agricultural science at California Polytechnic State University. “You never want to be behind what’s going on.”

•

Even though it’s less than five miles from OSU, Stahlbush Island Farms at first feels like it’s deep in the country. But it’s not just a place that grows fruits and veg-etables. Parts of it feel like an industrial site, with a security guard, huge food processing plants and semi trucks to carry food to mar-ket. Overshadowing everything else is the biomass plant.

Inside the farm’s office, the walls are covered with colorful nature paintings by Karla Chambers. The mother of four began painting in 2005 and already has had her

Corncob power: from farm waste to energy

Stahlbush Island Farms leads the way in technology and sustainability

Page 11 | June �010

You learn to respect other cultures, religions. You see how important it is to be unique. | Hosana Medhanie

colorful acrylic artwork of farm scenes displayed in galleries in San Francisco, Newberg and Mexico. The walls also hold some of the many environmental awards the company has received for its sustainable farming practices.

Debbie Cozzetto, director of mar-keting and sales, and Daniel Stockton, national sales manager, are enthusiastic about selling Stahlbush products ranging from frozen kabocha squash to canned sweet potato dog food. The operation, which is divided into three separate com-panies, sells its products in many parts of the world.

“I love my job and I’ll continue until I drop,” says Cozzetto, who has worked at Stahlbush for eight years.

The dog food once was featured on Martha Stewart’s television show, caus-ing a spike in sales. That was a lucky break – Cozzetto had not pitched a story to Stewart. But the company is a shrewd marketer. When talking about their prod-ucts, Katie Chambers opened five of Stahlbush’s IQF - Individual Quick Fro-zen - packages and offered samples. The broccoli, corn, strawberries, blueberries, and black raspberries all were delicious.

Cozzetto pitches her belief that frozen food using the IQF freezing process often tastes better than fresh fruit and produce. Fresh food in grocery stores on average travels 1,500 miles from farm to market, she says. Stahlbush’s frozen fruit is pack-aged only eight to 10 miles from harvest, and vegetables are grown within 50 miles of the processing plant.

Consumers need to be convinced to buy frozen foods that sometimes cost as much as fresh fruit and vegetables. Stahl-bush packaged frozen blueberries cost

$3.89 for a 10-ounce bag on one recent day at First Alternative Co-op North in Corvallis. In this current struggling econ-omy, not everyone can stretch to pay more for Stahlbush’s products even if they like the quality and appreciate the biodegrad-able bags.

Commenting on the price of the blue-berry package, shopper Delores Lopez of Corvallis said, “That’s why I don’t buy it so often. I only buy it on sale.”

One person less concerned about the prices of IQF frozen fruit products is James Cassidy, head of the OSU Organic Growers Club. He strongly states that as soon as the compostable bags catch on with other companies and stores that the prices of these products will dramatically decline. He opines that Stahlbush has bet-ter produce than other farms. “People’s awareness of food quality is on the rise in the country,” he says.

•

Stahlbush Island Farm generates a lot of food and vegetable waste. Now, the biogas plant has the capability to process 55,000 tons of such waste into energy.

Organic matter such as corn cobs and vegetable waste, when placed in anaero-bic conditions in large tanks and inoculat-ed with bacteria, produce a methane-rich biogas. A large generator takes the meth-ane and converts it into usable energy for the farm and homes. The plant’s liquid waste is a valuable fertilizer for crops.

Federal and state tax credits paid about half of the plant’s $10 million con-struction costs. Last year, Bill Chambers told the Albany Democrat-Herald news-paper that it would take four to five years to recover the construction costs in energy savings. But Cozzetto said recently that she can’t predict how long it will take to recover those costs.

Hackleman, the OSU professor, says that without subsidies, plants similar to this one could take close to twenty years to pay off. Hackleman still favors build-ing such plants because of their environ-mental benefits. He is a big biodiesel ad-vocate: In 2006, he travelled 6,000 miles across the country in a month-long jour-ney using only biodiesel.

Stahlbush has established itself as a powerhouse in food-producing and sus-tainabilty practices. However, the Cham-bers family and its employees still have to deal with the problems that have plagued farmers for generations. Harvests heav-ily depend on the season and whether droughts or other natural disasters occur. This year, many acres of their spinach crops got wiped out due to flooding.

Katie Chambers, who grew up on the farm, shrugs her shoulders at nature’s challenges.

“It comes with being a farmer, we deal with it,” she says.

By­Aidan­Orellana­and­Paulina­Liang

Kim Baglien, production plant opera-tions manager at Stahlbush Island Farms, is so busy with her job that she has time to give only one plant tour a month. But when she does, Baglien loves to talk about the farm where she’s worked for decades. Her guests get to observe the many technologi-cal and production wonders that Bill and Karla Chambers, the co-owners of the farm, have created.

Farm technology has changed dramati-cally over the last half-century, Baglien explains. Old-fashioned tools such as the pitchfork and plow have been replaced by machines such as the Niagara Sortex, a food sorter that can do the work of 12 people. At Stahlbush, this machine is used to prepare for packing several varieties of beans and grains quickly and efficiently.

Recently, one of the food processing plants was converting last year’s yellow corn kernels into purées. The process started when corn was harvested last year. The ker-nels had been removed mechanically from the cob and frozen on a shaking conveyor belt that processes the corn at 26 degrees below zero. The process is called Individu-ally Quick Frozen – IQF – and it keeps the kernels separate so they don’t freeze into a block.

Stahlbush’s equipment can freeze 16,000 kernels of corn in about an hour. The ker-nels are kept in cold storage at five degrees below zero.

When it’s time to turn the corn into a purée,

the kernels are moved to a processing plant in the center of the farm. The kernels are unload-ed onto a conveyor belt that transfers them into a noisy production plant. The corn is then processed for 10 to 12 minutes: checked for flaws, blanched in boiling water, cooled to 65 degrees below zero, puréed and poured into a “frozen pail” that carries 30 pounds. Then the puree, used for soups and other recipes, is shipped to buyers in the U.S. and overseas.

The production process can sometimes go on for 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Stahlbush’s 4,500 acres of farmland produc-es on average of 10,500 pounds – more than five tons – of produce per acre.

Fresh to frozen in 10 minutesFood moves in a flash to market

About Stahlbush Island Farms:• Address: 3122 Stahlbush Island Road, Corvallis• Owners: Bill Chambers, the company president and his wife Karla Chambers, vice president.• Size: Approximately 4,500 acres of cropland• Facilities: Food processing plants, biogas plant that converts farm waste into energy • Products: Vegetable and fruit purees, vegetable powders and dried products • Brand names: Stahlbush Island Farms, Farmers Market and Nummy Tum Tum dog food

LEFT: Stahlbush Island Farms, located on the banks of the Willamette River, grows many varieties of fruits and vegetables on approximately 4,500 acres.

BELOW LEFT: The farm’s products include Nummy Tum Tum dog food, frozen fruit and vegetables, and puréed products. Daniel Stockton, the national sales manager, plays an important role in selling and marketing.

BELOW: A biogas plant (center) one of the first of its kind in the U.S., is the largest structure at Stahlbush Island Farms. The plant, which cost $10 million and took 14 months to build, converts farm waste into energy that is used for the farm and sold to Pacific Power.

Photos by Aidan Orellana and Paulina Liang

Kim Baglien has worked at the farm for decades.

Page 1� | June �010

We need a media outlet that can expose all these differences and respect them. | Tyree Harris

By­Brittany­Nguyen­­and­Musba­Abasham

At Grass Roots Books and Music, a second floor formerly filled with books for customers to browse now houses extra floor space for storage.

When the recession hit, owner Jack Wolcott cut 22 percent of the store’s inventory to only stock books that sold well. Now, when a customer wants a book not on the shelf, he orders it for overnight delivery.

Wolcott wishes none of this was necessary.

“In a good economy, we will keep all the books on the shelf,” he said, “but there’s the reality of business.”

Many of Corvallis’ independent businesses have found themselves hit hard since the recession began about three years ago. The downturn forced these business owners to become more creative in how they attract customers and market their shops. More than ever, they rely on the sense of family and support for local businesses to pull through. One restaurant has organized more activities and entertainment options to attract patrons. Other businesses turned to cutting inventory, stocking only products that are in high demand, and using word of mouth and social media sites to advertise for free.

At the same time, the recession proved advantageous for other businesses, especially resale shops. Some have even opened new branches of their stores.

The Corvallis-Benton Chamber Coalition saw a 90-member drop in the past 18 months from 640 members to 550. According to coalition president Mysty Rusk, a number of businesses have downsized or closed, particularly restaurants. During belt-

tightening times, eating out and drinking at the bar are often considered unnecessary luxuries.

“Luxury is easy for people to do without,” she said.

The rise of unemployment has caused an increase in business start-ups because the newly laid-off workers are desperate to have an income, Rusk said. Some of these entrepreneurs are opening their first businesses out of their garages.

Through the coalition’s mentorship program, new business owners get paired with more experienced ones. Not only do these start-up owners get advice from experienced business owners, but the veteran business owners can learn lessons from the newbie owners to improve their companies.

Rusk sees companies change up their product mix by re-evaluating their products and restocking to sell only the most attractive items. Sometimes, that means replacing designer goods with more affordable ones.

Businesses also turned to social media websites, such as Facebook, to advertise their stores rather than paying for newspaper, TV or radio advertisements, she said.

Harrison Bar & Grill owner Bonnie Yeung uses Facebook to create events and then invites the restaurant’s Facebook friends to attend. She also relies on word of mouth from loyal customers and employees to keep the restaurant running.

To bring customers in during the recession, Yeung sponsored karaoke nights, live bands and free games of pool on Tuesdays and Sundays.

But even on a recent summer weekday, during what should have been the peak of the lunch hour, the restaurant stood almost empty with only two regular customers drinking at the bar. As a woman entered

asking about the burgers, Yeung yelled out with a smile, “We have the best burgers!”

But even a restaurant with the “best burgers” sees the effects of the recession.

The restaurant opened its doors in May 2008 only to be immediately struck with a triple hit. Business suffered from Oregon State University students leaving for the summer, the arriving recession and high start-up costs. Over the course of the next year, she had to borrow $10,000 from her family to keep the restaurant running.

“We were hit from the get-go,” Yeung said. “We knew we had to hold onto it. When it’s tough, we work harder.”

The restaurant lost money until last fall but has managed to hire four more employees over the past year. And although she survived other recessions with previous restaurants, Yeung feels this one is the worst.

“A lot of people are scared this time,” she said. “There are too many people unemployed. They tighten what they spend, and everybody’s feeling it. It doesn’t matter who you are.”

Laurie Zink, owner of Day Dreamers Beads and Jewelry, definitely feels it.

“We should be out of business, but I don’t want to lay off my employees,” said Zink, who has so far avoided that. “When you’re running in the red, that red has to be covered somehow. And to do that, you have to borrow money.”

Zink already cut costs wherever she could and eliminated her advertising budget after finding that it didn’t help. She also renegotiated for reduced rent for six months last year and refinanced her debts three times over the past four years.

To beat out competition from general craft stores, Zink specializes only in beads and jewelry making. She offers jewelry

A head-on fight against the recessionIndependent businesses in Corvallis get creative to keep customers coming through the doors

ABOVE: Grass Roots Books and Music owner Jack

Wolcott still believes in his store and his love for books, despite having to cut back on inventory to

reduce costs. “My friends want me to be here, and

I’m going to try to be here,” Wolcott said.

Photo by Musba Abasham

BELOW: Resale shop Second Glance, which

opened 26 years ago in downtown Corvallis, saw business jump during the

recession. Owner Nancy Kneisel believes customers

still want luxury during a recession, just at a lower

price. “People don’t want to go without,” she said. “They want that special

something.”

Photo by Brittany Nguyen

Page 1� | June �010

I like all the different opinions everyone has because they all come from different backgrounds. | Brittany Nguyen

repairs, classes, rare beads and a vast knowledge about her products and services.

Zink also benefits from her membership in the Corvallis Independent Business Alliance. Other local shop owners refer customers to her store, and in turn, she does the same for them.

But not all shops have suffered during the recession. Resale stores, such as Second Glance, have seen sales rise. Second Glance first noticed a significant increase in sales three years ago.

“When the economy is bad, we do well,” said Nancy Kneisel, owner of Second Glance. “If they can’t get their jeans fix at Nordstrom for $200, they can come here and get their jeans fix for $65.”

In the past three years, Kneisel has doubled her staff to 12 employees, added store hours, opened a second “annex” shop for teenagers and has even been able to slowly expand both locations. She finds that paid advertisements, radio sponsorships and e-mail advertising contribute to her success.

“When the recession hits, the people who are still thriving are the ones who are still advertising,” she said. “We put ourselves out there.”

Her efforts have resulted in a 12-percent increase in sales during the past year and an additional 2,000 consigners in the past three years.

Even though not all businesses have seen more customers, local independent shop owners still feel grateful for the support they receive.

“People believe in local ownership,” said Wolcott, the bookstore owner. “We must never forget the debt we owe to the community that has helped us through this time.”

ABOVE: At Day Dreamers Beads and Jewelry, employees such as Vickie Meyers (bottom left) use their

vast knowledge of beads to help attract customers during the recession. “We want to educate people, and we’re

willing to go that extra mile,” Meyers said.

Photos by Brittany Nguyen

BELOW: Owner Laurie Zink tries to make her store stand out from competing general craft stores by researching every new bead that the store sells. Zink originally thought her store would be recession-proof, thinking if customers wanted fancy jewelry for less, they could just make it at her store.

Page 1� | June �010

Our world is getting smaller; its future depends on how we all learn to accept and embrace our differences. | Harry Esteve

By­Tameeka­LeRay­and­Jason­Liao

Nick Arzner is on a mission. The moment a customer utters the words

“Miller Lite,” Arzner — an enthused craft brewer — will try to convert a customer to craft beer.

Arzner sees an opportunity whenever someone orders a mass-market beer at his Corvallis brewpub, Block 15. The customer gets his Miller Lite, but not without an accom-panying sample of Arzner’s lightest craft ale, which he serves to emphasize the difference in quality between the two drinks. Arzner’s ale freebie is aimed solely at making that cus-tomer a convert.

Arzner admits his obsession with brewing sometimes overwhelms him.

“My personality is to dive headfirst into a hobby,” Arzner says. “Brewing beer became out of control.”

Arzner keeps 13 beers on tap, seven in sea-sonal rotation, and also a specialty cask-condi-tioned beer unique to the mid-valley. Visiting Belgium has spurred his inspiration for brew-ing, which he found summarized with the Bel-gian saying, “Create something new based on age-old traditions.”

Arzner keeps his focus narrow, estimating that 95 percent of his beer is served on-site at his brewpub.

When Block 15 opened in February 2008, it was the only craft brewery in Corvallis. This goes against the grain in Oregon, which cur-rently ranks fourth in the nation in breweries per capita. Portland, Oregon’s largest city, has more microbreweries per capita than any other city in the nation, according to a New York Times report. Corvallis is making progress, though. Another brewpub opened in Febru-ary.

Corvallis can boast one advantage that Portland lacks. Oregon State University hous-es one of only two fermentation science pro-grams in the United States.

The program, established in 1996, is part of the Food Sciences Department. Its two-bar-rel pilot brewery focuses on hops research, funded by major national breweries such as Sam Adams.

Pilot plant manager Jeff Clawson says that the relationship between the pilot brewery and local microbreweries has just started, but many OSU fermentation students are completing in-ternships with Oregon breweries.

Mark Martin and Laura Bryngelson are the husband-wife owners of Calapooia Brewing in Albany and the new Flat Tail Brewing in Corvallis.

Calapooia Brewing maintains local flair by naming beers after area rivers, such as their SantiAmber Ale, ’Pooya Porter and Lucki-amute Lite. Calapooia is expanding its reach with the recent purchase of the Siletz brand, formerly based in Siletz, Oregon. The expan-sion is nothing new to Martin, who started his Albany company after purchasing the strug-gling microbrewery Oregon Trader, in 2003. Calapooia Brewing also hopes to begin bot-tling by the end of the year.

Martin admits that he can sometimes be overwhelmed by the details of owning his own breweries.

“When that happens, I take a moment to think, ‘Wait a minute, I make beer for a liv-ing.’ I’ve worked at crummy jobs before and I absolutely love beer, so I’m fortunate to do what I love.”

Local brewers derive their passion from the artistry of their craft. However, beer-making is a creative art. Paul Huppert, the pub manager of Calapooia, sees the artistic side of brewing in “imagination.”

“What would happen if I added some chamomile?” he might ask himself. “With beer you have to be gentle and coax it. You have to talk nicely to it.”

Joel Rea, owner of Corvallis Brewing Supply, has difficulty defining his art, but he knows it exists. He cites the example of cus-tomers who could not brew a good batch of beer to save their lives as evidence that simply having the equipment isn’t enough.

Of course, anybody can brew his or her own beer. Rea opened his homebrew supply shop 14 years ago. The shop, which now also sells uniquely brewed bottles of beer from all across the Northwest and beyond, has all the supplies that any novice or experienced brew-er needs to get the beer flowing.

One of Rea’s customers is Russel Moates, who entered the shop this week looking to try brewing for the first time.

“Trying to brew my own beer is a curios-ity thing,” Moates says. “I want to try to make good beer and the beer at a grocery store tastes cheap and is light in flavor. In the long run, it’s cheaper to make [craft brews], if you know how to make it.”

One of the reasons beer is popular, Rea says: “Beer pairs better with food than wine.”

But he also points out the simple truth that many beer lovers would echo: “It’s yummy.”

Rea also sums up the spirit of brewers by describing his peers as “compatriots,” rather than as competitors. Rea, Arzner and Martin all know each other and offer support, as well as share pointers on brewing. Martin and Ar-zner occasionally borrow supplies from each other.

Martin says seeing his competitors all the time helps form a brewing community whose members complement – as well as compli-ment – each other.

Huppert, for instance, lauds Arzner.“Nick is one of the best brewers around.

He’s a big beer nerd.”This is high praise coming from Huppert,

who says that the requirements for brewing beer are to have “passion, love and nerdiness.”

Arzner’s “nerdiness” seems to be paying off in his conversion quest.

“We have had folks switch to our beer and away from the mass producers,” he says. “I think about 50 percent of the people who try our beer switch.”

A conversion rate of 50 percent is hardly satisfactory for a proselytizer like Arzner. Thus, his mission continues.

Mid-valley brewers are fanatics for their craftBrewing a “beautiful blend” of art and science

Page 1� | June �010

I would like to see everyone helping each other out. | Marco Reyes

CLOCKWISE, FROM UPPER LEFT:

• Na Zdravi Czech Style Pilsner by Southern Oregon Brewing Company, Medford

• Tsar Weizen Bavarian Style Wheat Beer by Heater Allen Brewing, McMinnville

• Hopportunity Knocks IPA by Caldera Brewing Company, Ashland

• Hopworks IPA by Hopworks Urban Brewery, Portland. Calapooia Brewing owner Mark Martin describes Northwest beer drinkers as “hopheads” due to their love of IPAs and other hop-heavy brews.

• Sang Rouge Northwest Style Sour Red Ale by Cascade Brewing, Portland

• Workhorse IPA by Laurelwood Brewing Company, Portland

All photos by Tameeka LeRay

ABOVE LEFT: Old-time beer cans are on display at Corvallis Brewing Supply, where owner Joel Rea likes to regale visitors with stories about the history of brewing.

LEFT: Part of the refrigerated beer storage at Block 15, where owner Nick Arzner plans to expand his barrel storage by 1,000 square feet. The OSU pilot brewery has no such storage area because it is required by law to dispose of all the beer it produces.

Page 1� | June �010

You don’t learn anything if you only hang out with people who are just like you. | Nerissa Ediza

Wallflowers in bloomPage 1� | June �010

Different people from different backgrounds coming together – it’s the most amazing thing. | Monica Melchor

“Glee”-inspired musical theater camp teaches skills and confidence

By­Taylor­Grady­­and­Francisco­Lopez-Bautista

The skylight brings a kiss of summer indoors and onto the shiny wood floors. Determined and focused faces are reflect-ed in the studio mirror. One belongs to a young girl who smiles prettily and hams up her dance moves. Another is focused sim-ply on not stumbling over his own feet as he watches the blond instructor in front of him. The dance comes to a close. There is an awkward silence among the six children in the room, feet tired from bouncing and dancing around. Choreographer Linnea Birdwell asks, “Would you guys like to try it again with music?”

Instantly, 8-year-old Katie Duncan jumps for joy, shouting, “Yah!” The rest slowly get back into position to go through the dance once more.

It’s day one at the “Majestic Glee! Style Summer Camp” held at the Majestic The-atre in Corvallis. Six kids, ages 8 to 13, are learning and rehearsing songs, scenes and dance routines for two weeks, which will be showcased in a musical revue inspired by the Fox television show, “Glee.”

The campers will present their revue at the Majestic at 7 p.m. Friday, July 2.

The Majestic provides children an op-portunity for a theater education, replenish-ing the community theater talent pool. “We found that kids with a background in theater auditioned better,” says Tim Flowerday, the executive director of Majestic Theatre Man-agement Inc., a nonprofit that runs the city-owned theater.

But the camp is about much more than song and dance. It’s about meeting new peo-ple, trying new things. About playing — but with purpose.

At first, the kids carry themselves with a sense of nervousness in their step but a glimpse of spirit in their smiles. The theme of the camp and the production is “friend-ship.” However, relationships are hard to form amid unfamiliarity and awkwardness.

Group activities, though, encourage the kids to connect. Throughout the first day, the group of six tends to split into three groups of two. Pairs of kids stick together like magnets — the younger girls, the older girls and the two boys. These initial bonds allow them to begin to blossom.

The energetic Katie stands out among the group, flashing a “little performer” per-sonality. But nearly as enthusiastic is 11-year-old Brittany Kline, fiery curls flying as she shows off dance moves like the “Grape-vine.” Looking uncomfortable surrounded by younger kids, the two oldest girls — Ki-tana Farley, 12, and Mikaela Prichard, 13 — gravitate to each other. Then there are the boys, Julian Schalk, 9, and Dylan Milota, 11, still at the mercy of all of their energy.

As much as Katie looks right at home, Dylan sometimes looks ill at ease. But he has his moments in the music room. A boy soprano, Dylan is a four-year member of Heart of the Valley Children’s Choir. “Get-ting to know people,” Dylan says, is what helps him grow comfortable. And it’s Julian who sets that process in motion. During a quiet moment on the first day, he breaks the ice with an impulsive outburst: “I own a guinea pig!”

The resulting pet-related conversation draws everyone in.

The instructors are forgiving.

For instance, Birdwell calls out the moves to a particular routine: “Two walks, one turn. Two walks, one turn.”

But she does only one “walk,” and Brit-tany, moving right behind, smacks into her.

“Oh, I messed up again,” Birdwell says with a shrug and smile. “It’s OK to make mistakes … I don’t care if you mess up or make a mistake as long as you try and do a bit.”

Soon, the self-confidence starts to kick in, as Birdwell trusts them to practice without her leading the way. Before long, they start to help one another with the tricky parts.

“I want them to come away from the camp with a sense of completion and con-fidence,” says Katie Stevenson, the camp’s director, who teaches the voice and acting classes.

But confidence can come and go. On the camp’s second day, little Katie doesn’t look

as joyful and fearless. (Though that may be in part because of a burned hand she suf-fered at home.) Dylan, however, begins to come out of his shell. He even shines when Birdwell gives the kids a chance to invent their own robot dance moves. Then in acting class, Dylan, Katie and Kitana are asked to create a skit based on a picture of Bert and Elmo from “Sesame Street” holding their noses against the smell of a skunk. Dylan takes to the role of the skunk imaginative-ly, skulking around, hissing and digging through imaginary garbage.

The difference the camp is making gets easier to see.

Birdwell asks once again, “Would you guys like to try it with music?”

Only this time, the enthusiasm isn’t just radiating from Katie, but from every kid in the room. Everyone leaps into the air and shouts, “Yah!”

ABOVE: Choreographer/teacher Linnea Birdwell watches students practice a dance routine in front of the studio mirror.

AT LEFT: Brittany Kline (left) and Katie Duncan (right) strike not only hip-popping poses but also an instant friendship

BELOW: Games are an important part of the acting classes at the Majestic Theatre’s camp. Katie Duncan (left) and Brittany Kline practice making eye contact and clapping simultaneously, a way to hone attention and timing.

Photos by Taylor Grady

Page 1� | June �010

When we talk with people whose experiences are different from ours, we learn about our rich cultural mix. | Gordon Oliver

Art camp pushes students to get messy and find meaning

High school students at OSU’s JumpstART program spend three weeks building a portfolio with the help of former students and working artists

Page 1� | June �010

Diversity of opinion to me is far more important than diversity of ethnicity, religion and race. | Amy Martinez Starke

n Hear young people talk about what art means to them, see their art in progress and look inside JumpStart: blog.oregonlive.com/teen

By­Mary­Ruiz­and­Kimberly­Mejia

Five girls sit on the warm gravel as their sculpting teacher, Ben Buswell, leans against a green trash can. A student men-tions the word, “cool.” Buswell laughs and asks, “What’d you mean by cool?”

They laugh as their teacher continues, “Are we talking about cool? Like, ‘Hey man, are you cool?’ ” The laughter stops as they all realize, no one really knows what cool means.

These high school students are on a break, hanging out outside their sculpture class, one of the courses offered at the sum-mer art program, JumpstART. The students will spend three weeks on the Oregon State University campus creating portfolios and earning high school credit. For many of them, this program is a starting point into an art career.

JumpstART receives participants from states as far away as Alaska but also has many commuters. After having had no pro-gram in the summer of 2009, due to a small number of applicants, inadequate funding and a change in directors, the program re-turns this summer, June 20—July 9, with 27 participants. At its peak, the program served as many as 86 students a summer.

The program is based in visual arts but tries to connect various art forms. The stu-dents take classes from professional art-ists and art professors, including sculpture, advanced painting and print-making. The program now focuses mostly on visual arts and less on performing arts than in previous years.

The program began in 1995 with Oregon State University art professor John Maul, who served as the director for 13 years. Maul started the program as a way to get college-level art courses to high school stu-dents. The program is now run by Director Marion Rossi and Associate Director Felicia Phillips.

Despite the change in directors, Jump-stART is back up and running with the help of former students and new funding for scholarships. This year alone about three-fourths of the participants are on a scholar-ship. The program costs $1,995 for students staying on campus in the dorms and $1,195 for students commuting.

Strong supporters of learning and giv-ing everyone a chance, the camp coordina-tors make sure to look at each applicant’s information carefully when choosing par-ticipants. They don’t say no very often. “We can’t look at a portfolio and say, ‘Oh, this person has too much to learn.’ We’re sup-posed to teach them,” Rossi says.

Across campus from Buswell’s sculpting studio, in a quiet, window-lined art studio, the air feels hot and humid. As the students make their way across the studio, the floor squeaks. One of the six students is Rhys Bailey, a really tall guy with brown curly hair. Every day, the students must bring something to class and paint a picture of it.

“They’re friendly shoes,” says Bailey,

as he paints a picture of his beat-up Merona shoe that he bought at Old Navy. “When I pick up a brush, I feel that I need to create something.”

He just recently started getting into vi-sual arts. This year is Bailey’s first year at JumpstART, but he plans to pursue art as a career, and he would like to return to camp next year. At JumpstART, he feels inspired when he sees other students who are just as good as him, if not better.

Besides having a passion for visual art, he enjoys playing the guitar. He has been playing for three years now and is in a band called Sled Dog Rebellion. “I like to com-bine (art forms) — one inspires the other,” says Bailey.

During the quiet of the first day in the studio, advanced painting instructor Lorrain Dauw says, “I think we need some music.” The next day, a yellow boombox plays the radio in the white-painted art studio.

Camp is much more than painting and spending time inside an art studio. Students also learn the symbolic meaning of art, the way their art tells a story and often decide if art will be a career path.

The three-week camp allows the students to interact with their teachers, make a strong connection with each other, and “also creates a community forced to help each other and grow and do different things than they’ve done before,” says camp director Rossi.

Like a continuing cycle, many of the teachers in the program, also now working

artists, were themselves once students at JumpstART.

The white walls in the advanced painting room are, for the most part, untouched. The floor . . . is a different story. “First day and I’m already making a mess,” says Dauw. She’s kneeling on the paint-splattered floor, attempting to clean up a puddle of spilled orange paint.

Her students each pick a studio with an open door facing into the central room. “This is going to be your home for three weeks,” says Dauw. Her students pick up their supplies off a desk filled with brushes and paints. She watches as all of them settle back into their new homes.

Dauw has been involved since 2000, when she was a camp participant. Jump-stART “is really great at getting people at a young age. It really lights the fire,” Dauw says.

Now an art graduate student at Yale Uni-versity, she always knew she wanted to be an artist. She says JumpstART helped her gain experience and practice in an intense environment. “When you first get here you really miss home, then as soon as it’s done you start missing JumpstART,” says Dauw.

Across the hall from the advanced paint-ing room, Professor Yuju Hiratsuka watches his students draw in the print-making studio. “I don’t judge the drawing,” says Hiratsuka. His students seem to loosen up at this.

They continue drawing, looking at each detail of a skull next to roses inside a wa-tering can. They’re packed tightly around a table, the heat swimming around the room. A chair creaks as a student kneels in, trying to get a closer look. Another one works on

shading. Hiratsuka has seen this scene be-fore. He’s been involved with JumpstART for 15 years, since the beginning.

His studio assistant, Marne Elmore, has also seen this layout before, but from a dif-ferent perspective. Elmore, 21, spent two years as a JumpstART student, and this is her second year as a studio assistant.

“I love the program so much. It’s done so much for me, I feel like I need to give back,” says Elmore. To this day, Elmore keeps in contact with friends she made in the program. “Everyone has a really strong connection, and this is where I realized art was something that I wanted to pursue,” she says.

Word of mouth is what keeps JumpstART running. Teachers and former students, like Dauw and Elmore, go back home, talk to their friends, and bam: new students. It’s all a part of the JumpstART cycle. Students come to camp, fall in love with it, go back and tell their friends all about it, friends come to camp next year. Rinse and repeat.

On this summer day a group of advanced painting students squeeze reds, blues and greens out of colored tubes. Across the hall the screen printing students have black ink up to their wrists. In the sculpture studio the students melt red wax with small propane gas tanks.

“This wax will not come out of your clothes, so don’t wear your Sunday best,” says Buswell. “That’s probably true of any art class.”

ABOVE LEFT: After students choose the studio spaces they will inhabit for the next three weeks, Rishika Betrabet paints a picture of a pink scarf in her JumpstART advanced painting class. Students in the program create portfolios, earn high school credit and take part in traditions such as the annual 4th of July sand castle competition.

LEFT: “You can’t graduate with a 4.0 and expect to become a successful artist; this isn’t that type of career,” says Yuji Hiratsuka, a screen-printing professor. Hiratsuka has been involved in JumpstART since the program began in 1995.

Photos by Kimberly Mejia

ABOVE: Ryhs Bailey paints a picture of his “used to be white” shoe in the advanced painting class at the sum-mer program JumpstART on the OSU campus. The program provides various visual art classes for high school stu-dents, lets them explore what art sym-bolizes and helps them decide whether art is the path they want to take.

BELOW: Studio Assistant Matt Roberts explains the importance of creating a piece of art with different colors, splashes and symbolic meaning. Many of the teachers and studio assistants themselves attended JumpstART.

Page �0 | June �010

Without diversity, you would never get to try new things. | Osman A. Omar

Page �1 | June �010

If we can make people who are not part of the majority feel welcome and safe, then that’s good for everybody. | Fred Joe

By­Altrenia­Littleton­­and­Hosana­Medhanie

Morning comes early for Scottie Jones of Leaping Lamb Farm, 365 days a year. If she’s not putting the turkeys and chickens out to pasture and looking for eggs on her Alsea farm, she is cleaning the horse and donkey

stalls, or feeding breakfast to her farm-stay guests. She and her husband also juggle out-side jobs.

Demetri Balint from the Greengable Gar-dens in Philomath, as with all growers and farmers, scans the clouds in the sky each morning or listens to the weather report to see if his flowers will grow well that day.

Rolfe Hagen cleans folding chairs and tends herbs, working seven days a week dur-ing his busiest time of the year, when hosting weddings and luncheons at The Thyme Gar-den, west of Philomath.

It’s difficult to make a living in a rural area, says Danuta Pfeiffer, founder of Oregon Country Trails, a corporation that revitalizes

Sticking together to make a living2 days. 10 rural businesses. 1 struggle

rural areas by helping their members with sales, advertising, events and more.

“Because rural areas don’t have a lot of people, there are not many customers,” she says. “It’s hard for rural areas to market to bigger cities.”

Some rural businesses that might individ-ually have struggled have banded together to

help each become more successful.One of their efforts is to organize a driv-

ing route, or trail, to lure tourists and improve the economy.

Oregon Country Trail’s marketing slo-gan is “Where the suits meet the boots!” The slogan refers to the effort to bring city people – and their bucks - into the country.

Oregon Country Trail is the umbrella group representing more than 200 rural businesses, entrepreneurs, tours and adventures in Lane, Lincoln, Benton, Linn, Crook and Deschutes counties.

The Alsea Valley Country Trail is only one of the trails in the group; the other three are River Road Trail, Fern Ridge Trail and

BELOW, FAR LEFT:Dutch Boy, a turkey, struts around like he owns the place and shows off his beautiful feathers at Leaping Lamb Farm in Alsea.

Photo by Hosana Medhanie

BELOW, MIDDLE:Salmon and trout grow from eggs to adults at the Oregon Hatchery Research Center, where scientists study their life cycles.

Photo by Altrenia Littleton

BELOW, RIGHT:Leaping Lamb Farm’s carefully tended flower gardens create a welcoming feel for guests.

Photo by Altrenia Littleton

ABOVE, LEFT:John Boy’s Alsea

Mercantile is a place for town residents to gather

and enjoy each other’s company. It’s the only

market in town, and it sells such supplies as

denim overalls and fishing tackle, and other needs to

its rural patrons.

ABOVE, RIGHT: Scottie Jones and her dog,

Cisco, stroll through the barn as she checks

on her horses and donkey each morning at Leaping

Lamb Farm.

Photos by Hosana Medhanie

Page �� | June �010

What’s important is to honor and respect different races and give them something that’s their own. | Erikka Potts

Long Tom Trail. Also, Oregon Country Trail isn’t the only

trail organization around. Peak Experience Local Loop is another marketing effort, a self-guided tour of local gardens and gal-leries, wildlands and wineries within a short drive of Mary’s Peak.

Tourists who take Alsea Valley Country Trail will enjoy a lot of different businesses and artists that wouldn’t be found in a big city. Among the farms and businesses on the trail are Oregon Alpaca Farm, Leaping Lamb Farm, Yew Wood Nursery, Oregon Hatchery Research Center, The Thyme Gar-den, Alsea Artisans, John Boy’s Alsea Mer-cantile, Alsea Fish Hatchery, Greengable Gardens and Gathering Together Farm. Oth-ers are wineries, quilters, handicraft makers and even a kayak shack.

Many tourists bypass Alsea on their way to the coast, because they take Highway 20.

The idea, says Jones of Leaping Lamb Farm, is to get people who otherwise might take Highway 20 to take Highway 34, which is slower and more winding, and thereby stop at local businesses and contribute to the Alsea Valley economy.

“The (trail) could take you by Alsea Falls, which is a great picnic spot, or the Alsea Merc (Mercantile), which has a lit-tle park where kids could have lunch and snacks,” says Nancy Chandler of Alsea Acre Goat Cheese.

But whether a business or farm is suc-cessful depends on its marketing efforts, es-pecially during Oregon’s bad economy.

Leaping Lamb is solidly booked with tourists because it provides a unique experi-ence for city dwellers, says Jones, the farm’s co-owner.

She offers food, lodging and a fun expe-rience — gobbling turkeys, noisy geese, a donkey to pet and even lambs that leap on their way out to pastures. Guests leave with lots of stories to tell.

Other successful businesses on the trail are the Oregon Hatchery Research Cen-ter and the Alsea Fish Hatchery, which are

state-funded and therefore not dependent on tourist dollars.

The Oregon Alpaca Farm is successful, according to Jessica White, one of the own-ers of the farm, because it doesn’t depend on a local customer base. It advertises nation-ally in an alpaca magazine and has buyers from all over the United States. It also ben-efits from a location across the street from the very popular and successful Gathering Together Farm, which has one of the few restaurants in the area and sells produce to farmers markets throughout the region.

Other businesses that have the potential to be successful, but are suffering from the

bad economy, are Greengable Gardens and Yew Wood Nursery.

“The businesses that are doing well of-fer alcohol, food and experience,” says Balint, of Greengable Gardens. But they don’t spend money on plants. Greengable Gardens was doing well until three years ago, when the economy took a nosedive and its cut flower business began to suffer. In a poor economy people don’t have much dis-cretionary income, and Yew Wood Nursery also is suffering. One recent year the owners ended up throwing away 350 unsold fuchsia baskets.

Whether the Oregon Country Trails mar-

keting effort is successful depends on the individual businesses.

“I think that management, business knowledge, skill and how old a business is have a lot to do with how a business turns out,” says Pfeiffer, of Oregon Country Trails.

John Clark of John Boy’s Alsea Mercan-tile, a store in downtown Alsea, says his is the only market in town. But he doesn’t find the Alsea Valley Country Trail marketing productive for his purposes.

“There is only one business meeting per year, but it’s not very useful,” he says.

“If you’re creative then it’s not hard to make a living,” says The Thyme Garden’s Hagen. His wife, Janet, serves luncheons that use herbs from the garden. Hagen says they also educate visitors about herbs and medicine.

Pfeiffer says the reason some business-es may or may not be so successful “boils down to what you know, what your goals are and what you want.”

In the end, it’s how you get there, not where you’re going.

“It’s the journey, not the destination,” Pfeiffer says. “Take the scenic route and en-joy the journey.”

n Visit Leaping Lamb Farm in Alsea and hear the farm’s co-owner Scottie Jones talk about the experience she offers her farm-stay guests: blog.oregonlive.com/teen

LEFT: The Alsea Community Library is one of only a few buildings in down-town Alsea, one of which is the school, housing grades K through 12. There were only five seniors in the graduat-ing class this year.

Photo by Altrenia Littleton

BELOW: At Yew Wood Nursery, owners Joe and Pat Danton explain the strug-gles of selling fuchsias. The economy is affecting their business.

Photo by Hosana Medhanie

Page �� | June �010

No one wants to be ‘tolerated.’ We get a lot of things from other cultures. It just helps everyone. | Mary Ruiz

ABOVE: Sheep and lambs wait for Scottie Jones to let them out of their pen to graze on grass for the day. Jones also sells the lambs for meat.

Photo by Hosana Medhanie

BELOW: John Boy’s Alsea Mercantile advertises that it sells “whatever you need and a whole bunch of stuff that you do not need.”

Photo by Altrenia Littleton

Page �� | June �010

Newsrooms need far more journalists of color as editors in decision-making, leadership positions. | Wade Nkrumah

Page �� | June �010

If there was only white bread, life would be tasteless . | Joany Carlin

By­Sabra­Chandiwalla­­and­Shamso­Ali

In a serene Corvallis field of lush grass, numbered wooden planks protrude verti-cally from the ground and are the only clues that this is the final resting place for Mus-lims.

The Islamic Cemetery of Oregon in Corvallis is one of only a few all-Muslim burial grounds in the Pacific Northwest. This unique place — established in 1992 and paid for by community donations — honors the values and traditional teachings of Islam according to the Quran.

The opportunity to bury loved ones at an all-Muslim cemetery is invaluable to the Muslim community, said Mozafar Wanly, a volunteer who oversees cemetery op-erations. Being buried next to their fellow Muslims — whom they call brothers and sisters — is an important aspect of feeling safe and comfortable in their final resting place as the soul reflects on past deeds and awaits judgment from God.

Across the United States, there are both all-Muslim and multi-denominational cem-eteries, which include plots set aside for

Muslims and other religions.Muslims are not generally buried with

non-Muslims, Wanly said. It is the respon-sibility of a local Muslim community to create an all-Muslim cemetery. If that is not possible, Muslims can be buried in plots at larger multi-denominational cemeteries.

“The Jews have their own cemeteries, the Christians have their own cemeteries,” Wanly said.

Muslims believe that whatever good deeds they do in this life will be rewarded in heaven when they die, Wanly said.

“We do it for the sake of God, and God will reward,” he said.

All 10 acres of the cemetery, which is several miles west of Oregon State Univer-sity, were purchased through donations from Islamic communities across the state.

Volunteers who run the cemetery say their pay is not in cash but in the rewards they will receive in the afterlife for helping their brothers and sisters.

There was no particular reason for pur-chasing land in Corvallis other than that it was a suitable location and the price was right, Wanly said.

The Oregon Mortuary and Cemetery

Board, which oversees the state’s cemeter-ies, does not keep records of facilities’ reli-gious affiliations, according to board staff. However, there are at least a couple of cem-eteries that have devoted plots to Muslims, including the Sunset Hills Memorial Park near Beaverton.

Mohammad Moussaoui, a 23-year-old student at Oregon State University, has participated in about 40 Islamic burials at the Corvallis cemetery. He has buried his grandmother and a couple of friends.

“The process of dying puts a lot of bur-den on Western families,” Moussaoui says, “but a Muslim burial costs about $300. And if the family can’t afford it, the communi-ty helps pay. It’s a simple thing; it’s really plain. There are no flowers or headstones with birds flying around. It’s supposed to remind people of death.”

Muslims believe that people should always keep death in the back of their thoughts, Moussaoui said. Muslims also be-lieve that death should not be mourned.

After a Muslim death occurs, the first step is to wash the body. Men generally wash men while women wash other women. Sections of the body are revealed little by

Muslim cemetery is a rarity in the Pacific NorthwestThe first and only all-Muslim cemetery in Oregon is home to about 190 Muslims of all ages

LEFT and ON THE FRONT PAGE: One of many wooden planks signifying the body of a Muslim brother or sister at the Islamic Cemetery of Oregon in Corvallis. Although the headstone doesn’t have a name, the cemetery keeps track of where bodies are buried. The prophet said the best grave is the grave that doesn’t show, said Mozafar Wanly a volunteer at the cemetery.

Photo by Shamso Ali

BELOW: Graves speckle the grassy fields of the Islamic Cemetery of Oregon, run entirely by volunteers in nearby nearby Muslim communities.

Photo by Shamso Ali

RIGHT: Mozafar Wanly fixes a headstone that had gone askew. Wanly, a construction manager at Albany General Hospital, said he volunteers because it is his duty to God to serve his community.

Photo by Sabra Chandiwalla

By­Shamso­Ali­­and­Sabra­Chandiwalla

In his short life, Mohammad Moussaoui has witnessed a lot of death.Every time a Muslim brother or sister dies, Moussaoui is there, volunteering his free

time by showing support to the family and helping to prepare the body for a proper Is-lamic burial.

So far, Moussaoui has helped with 40 Muslim funerals at the Islamic Cemetery of Or-egon in Corvallis. He is one of many volunteers who carry the bodies from the families’ cars to the gravesite and dig what will be their final resting place.

Moussaoui is able to visit frequently because he lives close to the cemetery in the Corvallis area.

The 23-year-old Oregon State University student says he is one of the youngest brothers in the Corvallis Mus-lim community to help with traditional Islamic burials, which includes cleaning the bodies, praying and digging.

Moussaoui has buried fam-ily, friends and strangers.

Even though he doesn’t know everyone who has been buried at the Corvallis site, Moussaoui feels obligated as a Muslim to pray for the 191 people buried there each time he visits. It is also his way to stay involved in his commu-nity.

“As Muslims we’re sup-posed to do community ser-vice and help each other out,” Moussaoui said. “The (Muslim) communities are very helpful. When someone passes away, the community will send someone to cook for them every day; it is all com-munity based.”

Among those buried at the Islamic Cemetery of Oregon are Moussaoui’s grandmother and two close friends.

Moussaoui said he has learned to accept death; that the teachings of Islam say that death is a natural process that followers shouldn’t be sad about and to keep an updated will on you at all times.

As a Muslim you are taught not to fear death; you learn that your life here on Earth is a temporary one — a test, and when you die you go back to the creator, God, and await judgment with your fellow Muslims, said Mozafar Wanly, a volunteer with the cemetery.

Visiting the cemetery is humbling to Moussaoui, because he said it reminds him of his duty to God to be compassionate and make sacrifices and to help as many people as possible in his lifetime, Muslim and non-Muslim alike.

“It’s sad and very emotional,” Moussaoui said, but “it helps me reflect on my life because no one knows when they’re going to die.”

With all the different experiences he’s been through, Moussaoui explains, “the hard-est thing that I have ever faced was dealing with the death of my very good friends.”

Moussaoui felt honored to be able to place his friends in their final resting place, knowing that they will soon find peace with God.

Cemetery volunteer lays Muslim brothers and sisters to rest

little in order to maintain dignity and respect for the dead, according to the Islamic Soci-ety of North America, a national organiza-tion based in Indiana.

Next, the body is wrapped in a clean, white, cotton cloth and taken to a mosque. There, family and friends pay their respects to the dead by praying. They read from the Quran and then pray, in order, for the Proph-et Muhammad, the deceased person and, lastly, the family prays for everyone else.

The body is then taken to a cemetery and buried.

“The same way a baby is brought into this earth — naked, washed, shrouded — the body gets washed, shrouded and put back in the earth,” Moussaoui said.

In the grave, the body is placed on its right side with its head facing toward north-east Oregon, and in the same direction as Mecca in Saudi Arabia, Wanly said. It faces the same way that Muslims face during dai-ly prayers.

Muslims believe that once in the grave, the soul begins to reflect on its final destina-tion: paradise or the hell fires, Wanly said.

The soul contemplates questions such as, “Who are you? What do you think about religion? What do you think about your prophet?” Wanly said.

Kambiz GhaneaBassiri, a Reed Col-lege assistant professor of religion and hu-manities, said that one of the first things

immigrant Muslims built after moving to the United States were cemeteries — not Mosques or Masjids; a Muslim’s place of prayer.

“A lot of early immigrants were single men. So when they died they didn’t have any family to take care of their burial and the Muslim community took on the respon-sibility to create plots (where they could) bury these men,” GhaneaBassiri said.

Some of the earliest Muslim cemeteries in the United States date back to the 1920s, GhaneaBassiri added.

In addition, Muslim burial traditions have remained the same since Prophet Mu-hammad’s time. Muslim communities are responsible for keeping these rituals and having a cemetery only for Muslim broth-ers and sisters, Wanly said.

Unlike some non-Muslims who visit the grave to communicate with loved ones, Muslims do not need to physically travel to the burial grounds, Wanly said.

“They are not supposed to come here to talk to the grave, the bones, the earth,” Wanly said. “The soul is not at the grave. Nobody is here, it’s just bones.”

When the survivors visit an Islamic cem-etery, the experience is just as much for them as it is to honor the dead.

“We visit just to learn, to know our last home in this life,” Wanly said.

Mohammad Moussaoui, cemetery volunteer.

Photo by Sabra Chandiwalla

Page �� | June �010

It gives you a better idea of how much is really going on that you don’t think about on a day-to-day basis. | Wally Benson

By­Marco­Reyes­­and­Hilaria­De­Jesus­Hernandez

As the women gather in a large living room, seated on comfortable chairs and sofas, one takes out a small American flag. Others watch and listen to her story.

“I left my country, and then I came to live in another culture,” says Maria Heart, pointing to the flag. She’s speaking in Span-ish -- Heart married an American, but she was born in Mexico. Next, Heart gets out a Mexican flag and puts the two flags to-gether. “Now I’m living in two cultures,” she says.

Heart and the other women are part of a group in Corvallis called the Organizacion de Latinas Unidas, or the Organization of United Latinas. The group helps them adapt to a change of cultures. The women learn how to be independent in a new country and learn English. They also learn how to bet-ter communicate with their Americanized children.

The groups started as a result of a health program at Casa Latinos Unidos De Benton County, a Latino nonprofit. Erlinda Gon-zales-Berry, executive director of the non-profit, got a $5,000 grant in September 2009 from the state Office of Multicultural Health and Services to create a health and nutrition program for Latina women. The program included a Zumba aerobics exercise class and a cooking class.

After the money ran out, the women wanted more. So Gonzales-Berry got $2,500 from the Benton County Health Depart-ment to put together regular Zumba classes. Once Zumba was over, the women decided they would pay the class instructor them-

selves and take turns working as nannies, so women with children could participate. And in March, they decided to form a women’s group.

That group includes about two dozen women, who once a week take a day off their busy lives to meet at Casa Latinos Unidos. The group provides child care. One

RIGHT: For Carmen

Ramirez, volunteer

work at St. Mary’s Church

in Corvallis is important.

She organizes Latino events

and recruits catechism

teachers. This portrait hangs

in her house.

BELOW:In order to

interact and forget their

problems, the women who

form the Latina leadership group are

taking Zumba classes twice a

week.

Photos by Marco Reyes

Maria Heart, a Mexican American, shows the American flag to other Latinas gathered at Casa Latinos Unidos in Corvallis. The flag signifies Heart’s adaptation to her new culture. Heart is part of a group of women that gather every Tuesday for Leadership training.

Latinas find their identity in two culturesLeadership group helps immigrant women feel more at home in the U.S. while embracing their heritage

Page �� | June �010

One of the reasons we honor diversity is trying to make up for past wrongs. | Randy Cox

Story­and­photo­by­Marco­Reyes

At her first job in the United States, at a farm in Corvallis, Mexican immigrant Car-men Ramirez was accused of stealing. She didn’t know how to speak English, so she had no way to defend herself or prove her innocence. She also watched other Latino workers not given breaks, water or over-time pay. She realized she needed to make a change in her life. It was time to learn English.

“They treat Hispanics differently, be-cause they think they’re ignorant,” Ramirez said.

As a Latina, Ramirez, 39, overcame many barriers. She refused to give up. Ramirez has become a leader in the Corvallis com-munity. She’s a volunteer, organizer and someone who brings Latinos and whites together. Because she has experienced the same changes as other Latino newcomers, she is a role model for Latino immigrants.

Ramirez is originally from the city of Guadalajara, where her family owned a store and enjoyed a stable financial situa-tion. Ramirez went to high school there, but her dream was to move to the United States. In 1990, she and her husband moved to Cal-ifornia, and two years later to Oregon.

She had a hard time adjusting to the United States. Language was a barrier. “If you can’t speak English, you cannot do anything,” she said. At the time, few Latinos lived in Corvallis. Ramirez ex-perienced racism. For example, at a store where she was the only Latina shopper, the cashier asked if she was on vacation here. She turned the comment into a joke and an-swered, “I’ll be leaving soon.”

Ramirez had to learn how to drive; it took her three years. Without a car it would take an entire day to get to a store by bus and buy food. And stores in Corvallis did not have any Latino products.

But Ramirez had to prove to her mom that she could be independent. “I will not give up. I have to fight and prove to my-self that I can go forward,” she said. She challenged herself to learn English. She at-tended Linn-Benton Community College for three years to learn the language.

She found a job as a nanny for the owner of a Corvallis-area farm. After 13 years as a nanny, she became a housekeeper at the Corvallis Manor Nursing and Rehabilita-tion Center. This job helped her grow as a human being, she said, because she enjoyed working with the elderly.

“I sang to them,” she said. “I gave them love.”

Today, Ramirez and her husband own a house in Adair Village, a small town near Corvallis. Ramirez plays an important role in her community. She holds two jobs, as a house cleaner and another as a caretaker for the children of a woman who suffers from ALS, a disease of the nerve cells in the brain.

One of the most important things Ramirez has done is bringing whites and Latinos together. She invites whites and Latinos to her home for a barbecue. She organizes events for Latinos, such as posa-das, a Mexican celebration during Christ-mas time. And as a leader in Organizacion de Latinas Unidas, she helps other Latinas overcome the problems they face in the United States.

Ramirez also is involved in church. She is a catechism coordinator and teacher-re-cruiter at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Corvallis. She took charge of coordinating the first communion for Latino kids, and increased the numbers of Latino children to complete their first communion this year. At least five families asked Ramirez to be their child’s godmother.

Ramirez is a good role model that wom-en can look up to, said Lori Hodgert, a su-pervisor in the Children and Middle School Ministry at St. Mary’s.

“She always wants to improve herself,” Hodgert said. “She does not only want to do a good job, but to do it better.”

Ramirez and her husband raised a fam-ily that supports each other and meets ev-ery Sunday for dinner and a movie at their home. They have three daughters – Miri-amy, Ariadny and Paulina – all born in the United States. Two of their older daughters are married to whites; the third is a high school student. The couple also have a grandson named Jacob.

Even though Ramirez has worked hard and become successful in the United States, she still faces discrimination because of her ethnicity. She says that in some stores in Corvallis, cashiers don’t say “Hi” to His-panics, because they think that they don’t speak English.

Ramirez said she is the only Latina in her neighborhood and because of that, she said, sometimes her neighbors suspect she doesn’t belong there.

“I didn’t come to clean a house,” Ramirez said. “I live here.”

In the future, Ramirez wants more La-tina women to get involved in the com-munity and become leaders. She wants all Latinas to know that they can learn English, get educated and be successful.

Ramirez supports the Dream Act, a pro-posed law that would allow undocumented students to earn permanent U.S. residency, and she’s against the new Arizona law that gives police the power to detain anyone suspected of being in the country illegally.

“I think there should be a reward for those people who work hard and do good things for the community,” she said.

the women face is that many do not have transportation to get to the meet-ings — so they carpool or take the bus. The Latinas discuss their problems in the Unites States and the education of their children. They talk about Ameri-can culture, do activities and continue to take Zumba.

The group’s biggest necessities are leadership training, learning English and taking computer classes, Gonza-les-Berry said. The meetings teach Latinas to express their emotions with other women who are facing the same problems.

“Our goal is to empower these women to develop their skills and self-esteem,” Gonzales-Berry said. “In time, they will feel comfortable in being participants in the broader com-munity.”

The women set goals for them-selves and their families to be healthy and to improve their lifestyle in the United States. The group teaches Lati-nas to be leaders and volunteers in the community. Recently, the women par-ticipated in a rally on the Oregon State University campus against SB 1070, the new Arizona immigration law.

Education is the most important aspect for the Latinas, Gonzales-Berry said, because it allows them to com-municate with their children and their teachers.

At a recent meeting, all the women wanted to participate in the conversa-tion. Kids ran through the room but did not distract their moms. The wom-en discussed the differences and simi-larities between the Latino and Ameri-can cultures. After the meeting, they gathered around a table in the kitchen and shared bowls of posole, traditional Mexican hominy soup.

The women expressed why this group was important to them: “I can help myself and others in this group,” said Blanca Nuñez. “I learn so much from the other women.”

Carmen Ramirez agreed.“Many Latina women have de-

pression, they feel incapable,” said Ramirez. “We have to learn how to go forward.”

Gonzales-Berry hopes that in the future more women will join the group. Latinas, she said, are ready to continue getting involved in commu-nity work and to become leaders.

“I expect to see them grow as hu-man beings,” Gonzales-Berry said. “They have tremendous potential to blossom in all aspects of their lives.”

n Hear interviews with Latina women talk about their stuggles in the United States and how they created Organizacion de Latinas Unidas: blog.oregonlive.com/teen

The road to becoming a role model had plenty of detoursBut Carmen Ramirez kept moving ahead and has become a community leader in Corvallis

LEFT: Carmen Ramirez, who came to the United States 20 years ago, has become a Latina leader in the Corvallis area who has brought whites and Latinos together.

Story­and­photo­by­Shamso­Ali

Sabra Chandiwalla‘s passion about equality took her more than 2,800 miles from her Portland home to share an important message.

Both excited and nervous about whom she would meet and what would happen, Sabra got

on a plane for Washington, D.C., in March.She was one of 17 students nationwide to be

part of the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network’s Safe School Advocacy Summit, which brought people together to discuss with lawmakers bills to strengthen policies against bullying and harassment in schools. Participants

also encouraged lawmakers to pass a bill to protect students who are discriminated against based on their sexual orientation.

The trip was important to the president of the Gay Straight Alliance (GSA) at Franklin High School.

“This trip would make or break my pursuing of a political career,” Sabra said.

The self-described opinionated, thoughtful and extroverted teenager traveled by herself and met new people.

“Meeting people from all over the nation and hearing some of the different things students have been up to to help the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer) cause was amazing,” Sabra said.

Sabra has been influenced by the many extraordinary students she has met through the nonprofit organizations and all of the protests she has been involved with. Some of the students have shared their messages via YouTube videos or by

encouraging legislators to pass bills.With her GSA involvement and all the other

programs Sabra has been involved in, she has learned to be an open-minded person who fights for equality and democracy.

“If we truly went to reach an equal, democratic America, then we have to right double standards,” Sabra said.

With a deep passion and love for equal rights, Sabra has became better at developing her own opinions, and it opened her eyes to political activism.

“The thrill, excitement and enjoyment of making a difference of some sort is just amazing ‘cause then you look back at it and say, ‘I was a part of that,’ ” Sabra said.

Aside from all the advocating she does, Sabra enjoys activities, such as whitewater rafting, dragon boat racing, going to concerts, kayaking and camping.

Sabra accomplished many things throughout high school. As the GSA president, she has learned how to delegate tasks, network and better include everyone in the club to get more involved in activities as a group.

This fall, Sabra will attend Evergreen State College in Olympia, Wash., and will further explore political science and journalism.

She says she chose Evergreen “because of the structure and because it’s a very liberal school.”

This will help her pursue her mission.The college “has excellent internship

programs with the local government in Olympia, and excellent journalism opportunities.

“Journalists can call out and reveal the truth and inform the public.”

Story­and­photo­by­Tameeka­LeRay

Jason Liao doesn’t swagger. He arrives with a calm and inviting demeanor and takes his place among the rest of the students. There is nothing distinctive to make all eyes fall on him; he just listens attentively and falls in with the group. This is his preference for day-to-day life.

A recent graduate from Franklin High School, Jason receives high praise from past teachers, who have nothing but great things to say about him. “Jason is one of those ‘backbone’ of the program kids,” said Kate Moore, Jason’s high school journalism teacher, who also described him as “thoughtful” and “thorough.” Doug Jenkins, his junior English teacher, added that Jason turned in “some of the most creative and enjoyable writing I’ve read from any of my students.”

However, Jason has talents beyond being a fantastic student. Moore explains, “Lurking beneath his quiet in-class exterior is quick wit, the kind that makes you smile in the moment and find yourself giggling about hours later.”

Jason is quick with a pen, also, and a spelling bee finalist, although he would never explain it that way. Jason’s determination, creativity and humor have directed him on his voyage through life, without requiring much recognition or admiration from others.

“Getting cut from the freshman basketball team was my most memorable high school memory,” Jason said. The feeling of not being good enough has gotten to everyone at some point, but Jason didn’t let that feeling kill his drive. He has shown dedication to his schooling, “always” meeting his deadlines, according to Moore, and finding ingenious ways of enhancing a usually boring assignment, such as writing his junior research paper on mustaches. He has volunteered to be his school newspaper’s comic artist, and has competed in a couple of spelling bees, placing as high as third in Oregon. His efforts often end in success, and yet many of his most cherished

achievements are never on public display.One of Jason’s hidden talents is drawing.

When Pokémon and Yu-Gi-Oh! were the most popular card games, he would spend hours drawing the different characters.

“I would get three of the 10-cent notebooks you get in September and fill those up in one school year.” said Jason. Three whole notebooks, with drawings on every page, add up to hundreds of pictures per year. Finally,

in the spring of his senior year, he shared his work publicly by agreeing to produce comics for his school paper.

“It was nice getting compliments,” Jason said, “but I wouldn’t really call it a talent, it’s just something I do.”

Jason also explores the literary techniques of rap. His favorite rap is one he concocted about the “swagger” he wishes he had. In the rap, Jason imagines being in the ring and winning

a fight, and having the audacity to heckle his opponent.

“It makes me feel big,” Jason chuckled.Jason, an 18-year-old Chinese American who

will be a freshmen at Portland State University in the fall, and has “swag through the roof” in other people’s eyes, but he has difficulty seeing it in himself. So, maybe it’s not that he doesn’t want to stand out from the group. Maybe he just doesn’t see his own distinction.

Sabra Chandiwalla: A strong voice to lead the futuren Advocating for equality allows her to shine a spotlight on issues

Page �� | June �010

If everyone was white, or if everyone was black, life wouldn’t be worth living. It would be boring. | Musba Abasham

Jason Liao: Swag and then somen Humor, determination, snazzy rap lyrics distinguish him from the rest

Page �� | June �010

It’s allowing many voices to speak and be heard. | Kami Hammerschmith

­By­Hilaria­De­Jesus­Hernandez

When Maria gave birth to her fourth child in the United States, the baby girl had a seri-ous heart problem. She was on the verge of dying.

In the next three years, the child would need two heart surgeries, frequent visits to various doctors and a lot of medication. But Maria, an immigrant from Mexico, faced a bigger obstacle: she did not know English, she had no transportation, and she knew no one who would help her when her child be-came ill. She became desperate.

Maria, 30, who asked that her last name not be revealed, has been living in Oregon for 11 years. She is afraid, because she is un-documented.

Due to her illegal status, she became very isolated and she fell into a depression when her daughter was diagnosed with a life-threatening disease. But the past few years, Maria has learned to overcome her fear and depression, and become more involved in the community.

Growing up in a small village in the Mexican state of Guanajuato, Maria was one of 12 siblings. Her family was poor – they owned only one bicycle for all the children, but Maria was stubborn and learned to ride it.

The family grew corn and raised a few pigs. Maria had no chance to study, and she disliked farming. She came with her husband to Oregon because she wanted a better future without poverty. She was the first one in her family to come to the United States.

She never expected that living in the U.S. would be difficult. Maria did not know Eng-lish and soon became very isolated and de-pressed. Her husband worked at a Christmas tree farm and as a firefighter, and was often not at home.

For the first four years, Maria al-most never left her house. She had three young children – all born in the United

States – and no money for a baby sitter or family member to help her. She had no transportation – she couldn’t get a license because of her lack of legal documents.

As if these obstacles were not enough, Maria’s fourth baby was born with heart problems. Maria was extremely worried. She was alone in the hospital, because her family was in Mexico, and she became desperate.

“I was in this world, but I wasn’t here,” she said, describing her state of depression.

After the surgery, the baby girl was do-ing well, until one night she started to have convulsions. The doctors couldn’t find a di-agnosis or a cure after many analyses.

Months later, the doctors told Maria that the baby had seizures in the brain. The baby had more convulsions, and Maria had to rush her to the hospital.

Again, she was alone, “not even a sister or anyone else to take care of my other chil-dren,” she said.

Maria fought her depression and isola-tion. She started to walk to the park and the library, and to use public transportation. She fulfilled her biggest dream: to ride bicycles to the park with her husband and children.

She also took English classes at Linn- Benton Community College.

Four years passed, and her daughter’s health improved. It inspired Maria to enjoy life again. Maria’s daughter still has to see her cardiologist every six months and has to take her medicine every six hours. But for now, she does not show any symptoms of seizures.

“When I see my daughter’s smile, it re-minds me that she is happy. And if she is happy, I’m happy,” Maria said. Still, the mother worries that something bad may hap-pen to her daughter.

“I wish I could go with my daughter to school, so I could protect her.”

Maria’s depression lessened when she joined Organizacion de Latinas Unidas, a group of Latina women who share their struggles, try to find solutions and offer each other support. In the group, Maria can have time for herself, she said. The women help her move forward and achieve the No. 1 goal: to succeed in the United States as a Latina.

“The women help me forget the struggles I lived through,” Maria said. “I want to look

for new goals, to look forward, not back-ward.”

But there is one problem that remains: Ma-ria’s illegal status. Eleven years have passed since Maria has last seen her parents, or her brothers and sisters. In her dreams, Maria can see her family sitting at the dinner table in her house. But her family can’t see her.

When she talks about this, Maria starts to cry. She has been longing to see her family, but if she goes to Mexico to visit, it is likely that she will not be able to come back. Cross-ing the border with a smuggler is dangerous, and she cannot take the risk of leaving behind her sick daughter.

But she also cannot take her daughter to her village in Mexico – where there are no hospitals or money for medicine – because her daughter has a serious illness. So Maria remains in Oregon, “with her arms crossed.” Waiting. Afraid.

“You keep quiet, and you can’t do any-thing,” she said. “Because it’s not in your hands. Because you can’t say that I’m going to be here or over there.”

Maria hopes for immigration reform, which would allow her family and other un-documented people in the United States to get legal status. If that happens Maria could see her family in Mexico.

“God made us equal, we want a better future,” she said. “We are not criminals. We came here to work.”

Mother struggles with child’s illness, immigration status

Maria overcomes fear and depression to get more involved in the community

ABOVE: Maria is a Latina immigrant who is raising four children in the United States, including a daughter with a serious heart illness. Because she is undocumented, Maria – who asked that her last name not be used – faces isolation, fear and a longing for family left behind in Mexico.

Photo by Marco Reyes

­Story­and­photo­by­Jason­Liao

The cries echo throughout the room. They come from a newborn girl who awaits her father to fill in her blank birth certificate. That father didn’t appear. The mother frantically searches a book of names and finds one she likes. On Oct. 2, 1992, Tameeka LeRay was born.

Tameeka’s father Albert LeRay had planned for his first child to be named Leah Lynn but he was too drunk to show up at the hospital. His absence that day was a sign of things to come, because Albert LeRay has never accepted the responsibilities of fatherhood.

Despite the fact that the name Leah Lynn relates to her father’s unavailability, the now 17-year-old Tameeka favors her father’s choice in names.

“I would’ve preferred being named Leah because people always spell ‘Tameeka’ weird. There have been people who spell it with Q’s and N’s and even my grandparents can’t spell it right. I think all my presents from them are labeled ‘to Aneeka.’ ”

The cries echo again throughout a room. Tameeka’s mom, Shari, is in a hospital for a possible miscarriage, a result of Albert LeRay’s abuse. Luckily no such miscarriage occurred and Tameeka’s youngest sister, Brianna LeRay, was born without complications.

At the age of 6, Tameeka had to testify as a witness of her father’s abuse. When she was 13, she had to testify once again against her father, this time for attempting to stab her mother.

Tameeka moves around in her chair and fidgets uncomfortably as she recollects those days in court. She says she is not afraid of her father and was not afraid the last time she talked to him. When he began pursuing partial custody of her two years ago, she knew his intentions were not righteous.

Tameeka knows in her heart that her father is a “girlfriend-hopping” felon who probably wanted child support from her mom, rather than to be the father she deserved.

When asked what her life would have been like with a different father, there is no hesitation in her response.

“If I had a different dad, I wouldn’t work as hard as I do now. Having him as a dad makes me want to be unlike the person he is. Getting my mom pregnant doesn’t really make him my dad.”

Besides dealing with the troubled relation-ship with her father, Tameeka also copes with the endless medical problems of her younger sister. Although she is the eldest of three girls, Tameeka looks up to her 13-year-old sister be-cause Lakeesha lives on despite having hydro-cephalus, a serious brain condition. Lakeesha

has had eight surgeries to clear liquid from her brain. Most of the money needed was donated, something Tameeka and her single mother are grateful for. Lakeesha probably will face more procedures to remove fluid in the future, and Ta-meeka is happy she can spend time with her and help her out.

“Tameeka helps me with my homework af-ter school. She was there for me when I had to get the doctor to check my brain a few months ago,” Lakeesha playfully said.

Despite those challenges within her fam-

ily, Tameeka stays upbeat. On any given day, she can be seen enjoying life, whether that is through playing World of Warcraft, planning for her senior year at Parkrose High School or act-ing through improv meetings at Lloyd Center.

Tameeka says that she is shy until she is spoken to, and the improv meetings help her communicate better with people outside of her family.

At her improv meeting, Tameeka’s voice echoes throughout the room, but this time, there are no cries, just smiles.

Tameeka LeRay: Resilient and ready to move onn Unfazed by father’s misdeeds and unafraid

Page �0 | June �010

Diversity is the sum of what keeps all of us together. Everyone’s diverse. | Shamso Ali

Story­and­photo­by­Brittany­Nguyen One day last summer when Musba Abasham

was visiting his cousin in Portland, a simple suggestion changed his life. Two weeks into the visit, his cousin invited Musba into his room and said, “I want you to stay with me for a year so I can help you focus on school.”

Musba readily agreed.“I just go with the flow,” he said. “Why wor-

ry? It’s better to look on the bright side.” His optimism made the move easier as he re-

alized that to push himself in school, he needed to break out of his comfort zone. The move from his school in St. Paul, Minn., to Parkrose High School gave him the rigorous course work he needed with smaller class sizes. It also gave Musba a chance to prioritize, going from exercising his body to exercising his brain.

In St. Paul, he and his friends preferred to make slam dunks to “embarrass each other” on the basketball court rather than focusing on achieving good grades.

This year, Musba joined the JV team at Park-rose. With daily practices lasting two hours and one or two games a week, Musba was given a structured schedule to play a sport that he

loves. As the tallest person on the team, Musba proudly plays the center position.

His new friends here in Oregon have been positive influences, showing him that he can both play basketball for the team and still not forget that school comes first.

“Our lives revolve around school,” he said.That change started the summer after his

freshman year, when Musba decided to make education a bigger priority. He took a six-week program at St. Olaf College knowing that he would be surrounded by strong role models. For four hours a day, five days a week, Musba performed experiments in science class and learned to speed-read in literature class. He saw these as “fun, do-able classes with no homework.” Musba didn’t consider this sum-mer school by any means.

“Camp helps me to know that I don’t have to sit around the house all summer,” he said. “It keeps me thinking, and I love school. It’s the foundation of life.”

Musba has also matured throughout the years. He no longer shouts out jokes in class, which had always landed him in the detention room. He finds that keeping his mouth shut also keeps him out of trouble.

“I have common sense now,” Musba said. “I know when something is wrong and when something is right. Before, I knew I didn’t care, even though I didn’t know the difference.”

Musba still uses the phrase “I don’t care” when he describes his feelings. But he doesn’t want people to mistake his I-don’t-care atti-tude as something negative. Instead, he wants people to realize that it’s a way for him to con-stantly stay optimistic about everything with-out overthinking and stressing about things he cannot change.

This helps him easily adapt to all the chang-es in his life. Though he loves Portland, espe-cially the soothing sounds of the constant rain, he says that if he had to move again he would do so with a good attitude.

For now, Musba concentrates on adapting to his new city by walking around and explor-ing downtown Portland. Though at times he wishes his old friends were around, he knows that Oregon is a place where he will mature the most. With a stronger focus on his classes, he knows that his knowledge will extend beyond the classroom.

“Education is not what you learn in school,” he said, “but what you still know after.”

Musba Abasham: His motivation is a good educationn Sports and fun are high on his list, but school is his focus

Story­and­photo­by­Monica­Melchor

Not knowing what became of, but knowing only that it has.

Inside Osman A. Omar, the world has its own way of working; everything has color and motion. Yet some of it remains colorless and peculiar. His path to come has no format. No outline. No sketch.

“Life is hard, and nobody helps you,” he says with conviction, in a soft voice.

Osman, 16, was born in Kenya. When he was 3 months old he moved to Oregon. Shortly before he turned 15, he and his family moved again, this time to Egypt to meet family who had fled the war in Somalia. He arrived in Cairo with his mother, two brothers and two sisters. His father stayed behind in Portland to make money for the family.

His journey to Egypt forced him to learn on his own when teachers did not help. His determina-tion to push himself resulted in awesome experi-ences. Through his walks around the rough streets of Egypt he learned Arabic and Somali. He made friends playing soccer.

In 2009, Osman returned to the United States with his passport about to expire. He faced tremen-dous pressure at his new school, Parkrose High, having to take four years of high school in three years. He was unprepared to take advanced classes, and felt like he must not fail.

He had to adapt to speaking English and faced

new restrictions, like a curfew, something he had never had as a child. Although he sounds uncertain, he seems ready to take the bullets of change that have hit him.

“I’m always ready for whatever happens,” he says.

Osman wears an orange hoodie and blue jeans. He walks with Vans that are midnight black. He is tall and thin. He runs track and plays basketball.

His faith, Islam, has kept him grounded. It has traveled with him to Egypt and back. Osman finds silence and peace in his prayers, which he tries to do five times a day.

Osman is concerned that college will be a major change because he will be by himself and have to figure things on his own. He will be the first person in his family to go to college in this country.

He is motivated by his parents’ life stories, and through those hard memories he is able to under-stand what he wants. His father lost his father at an early age; he worked while going to school to support his family. His mother raised her siblings after her mother died. “If they can do that with no help, why can’t I do something like that with re-sources?”

He wants to be a scientist. It is something he has always been curious about.

Forgetting those who doubt him still, his path to come has no format, no outline, and no sketch. Just hope.

Story­and­photo­by­Yuca­Kosugi

Dahlia Bazzaz doesn’t mind when people get curious about her head scarf, or hijab. The 16-year-old St. Mary’s Academy junior actu-ally prefers that people ask her about it instead of making assumptions or feeling uneasy.

“I’ve definitely gotten stares,” Dahlia says with a light laugh. “People are more hesitant. They feel like I’m not approachable.”

She wears what any other high school student would wear, jeans and a hoodie. But her expressions peer out from beneath multi-colored cloth, which wraps around her head, covering her hair and resting on her shoulders. Every once in a while her fingers travel up and fiddle with the stray ends of the hijab. She started wearing it when she was 9 years old.

“I just did it because I thought I had to,” she recalls, “but now I wear it for a reason.”

To Dahlia, a hijab prevents people from judging by appearance.

She identifies herself as Iraqi. Her parents lived in Baghdad for two years before mov-ing to Eugene in 1978 when her father, Alan Bazzaz, enrolled in the University of Oregon’s computer science program; it is the root of her love for the Ducks and college football.

Initially they lived in Eugene, where she was born, because Alan Bazzaz’s uncle also lived there and helped them get on their feet. Alan Bazzaz and his wife, Fatma, considered moving back to Iraq, but gave up that idea after the Middle East political situation deteriorated, and he found a job in computer software.

Many of her relatives lived in Iraq until Saddam Hussein kicked them out to Iran. In summer 2008, Dahlia and her family visited them. She became homesick and didn’t enjoy the experience at the time, but it made her real-ize that she had a different perspective of Iran’s culture than most people.

“People struggle to see normal people (in the Middle East),” Dahlia says. “I have a dif-ferent perspective. Things aren’t so extreme all the time.”

A constant stream of news buzzes through the Bazzaz household. One lazy late afternoon in August 2007 Dahlia found her parents sit-

ting on the couch watching a CNN special called “God’s Warriors.”

The three-part special by Christiane Aman-pour was about the three Abrahamic religions in the Middle East: Christianity, Judaism and Islam. In the show, Amanpour went into the countries where religion was most intensely practiced and reported on extremist groups.

What intrigued Dahlia about the show was that the reporter was on location, everything was on camera and she asked questions that were important to ask.

“It was just unbiased and honest,” Dahlia says.

This show not only triggered Dahlia’s cu-riosity about how politics and religion inter-twine, but also gave her a glimpse of the power of bona fide journalism.

At St. Mary’s Academy, students have to wait for their junior year to join the staff of the

school newspaper. Next fall, Dahlia hopes to be writing opinion pieces for “The Miss Print.” The Iraq war is one of many issues she would like to cover.

“People sometimes don’t know what to think about things,” Dahlia says. A well-writ-ten editorial, she says, makes it “a lot faster to find your stance on something, whether you agree or not.”

Dahlia enrolled in St. Mary’s for its diver-sity. Throughout her elementary and middle school years she found herself the only Arab among her classmates. It was “disorienting” to say the least, she says.

Even Eugene was more diverse before her family moved to Lake Oswego nine years ago. The family made another small yet drastic move in January 2009 when a mudslide took out the midsection of their house while Dahlia and her parents were away for a New Year’s

vacation.The Bazzazses were forced to move into

one of the houses Alan rented out, which was just over the city line in West Linn. Their new home is much smaller. The old one, demol-ished, took with it their personal belongings and tangible memories.

Silence filled the air in their home during the months after the incident. Her parents still had to pay the mortgage on their destroyed dream home. But as time passed and the memories ebbed, they were able to take away a lesson — what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

“I now understand how it feels to be de-tached,” says Dahlia. Detached not only from a home, but from a lifestyle, a culture, a base foundation of one’s life.

“It just took time,” she recalls. “Over time you forget about it. Life throws new things at you.”

Dahlia Bazzaz: Inspired to tell the whole storyn Her culture drives her passion to reveal the truth with journalism

Osman A. Omar: At home in the worldn Staying grounded despite frequent moves

Page �1 | June �010

Diversity of opinion, not just race, makes you more of an open-minded person. | Dahlia Bazzaz

Story­and­photo­by­Dahlia­Bazzaz

Yuca Kosugi may live in Boring, but her life story is anything but. The newly graduated senior from Sam Barlow High School flicks a lanyard around her neck as she talks about life as a first-generation Japanese American, a possible future in international relations, but mostly about her passion for swimming.

She took her first swimming lessons at age 3. Fifteen years later, she now spends as much time in the water as she does in a classroom. The demanding routine proves well worth it to Yuca, because the reward of doing well is an incomparable high.

“Swimming is really the closest thing you can get to flying,” she says.

Both activities take a lot of one thing --practice. While she juggles school and all its demands, she endures a rigorous schedule of swimming and meets. As a member of the se-nior swim team at Mount Hood Aquatic Cen-ter, Yuca rarely misses a chance to train. Her family supports her early mornings and sum-mer meets.

On a typical summer day, instead of sleep-ing until noon or laying out in the backyard, Yuca rises at 7 a.m., swallows down a granola bar and heads off to the center. There, she lifts weights or swims laps before returning home and taking a nap. Four hours later, she is back at the pool.

“It’s really helped me manage my time,” she says.

Her parents moved to Oregon from Tokyo, and she speaks a mix of Japanese and English with her family. She lives on rural land sur-rounded by horses and blueberry farms.

Unlike in modern American culture, her family seldom eats out. The house her family

lives in was built by her father and includes a portion of raised floorboard to replicate tradi-tional Japanese architecture.

Putting her pen to her forehead and swiping her shoulder length ebony hair out of the way, Yuca enthusiastically sketches her name in Jap-anese as she talks about life in her household. The family practices the “shoes off” rule and almost always eats Japanese food. She lists her favorite dish as “okonomiyaki,” a non-sweet pancake with a cabbage base.

Her father, unhappy with his job as a sales-man in Tokyo, quit and decided to move to the United States. His love for nature and moun-tain climbing brought him to his current job as a tour guide for various parts of the Northwest and Canada. The seasonal job, however, does not bring in a stable income.

“I was never aware of my family’s financial situation,” she says as her eyes wander the room. “We had simple, cheap meals at home and we had just enough to keep living nor-mally.”

Yuca’s pride in her Japanese heritage did not come early. She remembers one comment a boy made in fourth grade that she still thinks about. It emphasized her status as the only Jap-anese American among her peers at school and on the swim team.

“When I was in elementary school, people would ask me why my eyes were so small,” she says.

Despite those early taunts, Yuca now em-braces her culture. In fact, she aspires to learn fluent Japanese and pursue a career in interna-tional affairs. She takes pride in being a minor-ity and bilingual, saying both make her more open to different people.

As for her favorite part of being Japanese?“I love the food,” she says.

Story­and­photo­by­Aidan­Orellana

One of Paulina Liang’s earliest memories of animals was when her mother, Nicole, helped out at a business next to a pet store in Taiwan. When Paulina and her older sister, Cynthia, were with their mother, they often went to in-teract with the animals there, especially the fer-rets. At that time, Paulina was only 7, but her

affection for animals stuck with her. Paulina is now a 16-year-old at Parkrose

High School in Portland. When she visits Tai-wan, she loves the undomesticated and exotic animals, including huge pythons just lying in the streets. At her home in America, she only has a dog, a Jack Russell named Choppa. He has aggressive streaks, and has bitten at Pau-lina many times.

Other than defending herself from her dog, Paulina has had time to discover and grow to like farm animals in the United States. ”I love farm animals and, actually, all animals, because they’re so different from us,” she says.

Animals are not the only way that Paulina’s life straddles two cultures. Her ties run deep to both the United States and Taiwan.

Many decades ago, her grandpa, a sailor in

Taiwan, looked to find better job opportuni-ties and a better life in the United States. Since then, much of his family has followed.

Paulina arrived in the United States as an infant, first living in Pittsburgh before moving to the Portland area with her sister and mother when she was 4. She currently lives with her mother and grandparents, Kai Fu and Shia Shen Liang. Her sister, who attended the Uni-versity of Oregon, plans to study in Japan.

Now, every three years, Paulina is able to visit her aunts, uncles and a nephew in Taiwan. Going to Taiwan is considered a vacation for her and her sister, and entering the country brings back many memories. “I love going back; there’s just so much to do and it’s a lot warmer,” Paulina says.

Family is the main aspect of her life and is the main source of her support. Both her mother and her sister continue to help Paulina develop and succeed. “My mom is the person I look up to,” she says. “My sister is the person I look to for guidance.”

Paulina also continues to look to the future and do what she can to prepare for it.

Cynthia says her sister asks her for help on everything from how to fill out a college ap-plication to how to complete a level in a video game.

“In one word, I would describe Paulina as sincere because she really puts herself out for other people,” Cynthia says.

Paulina does not take herself too seriously, however. She doesn’t worry about too much, including the fact that she can’t ride a bike or swim. “I don’t mind my uncoordination,” she says with a shrug and a smile.

She knows that there’s much more to life than that.

Page �� | June �010

If we only get one view on a subject, it’s really easy to leave out important information. | Sabra Chandiwalla

Yuca Kosugi: Swimming toward her futuren Early-morning workouts push her limits

Paulina Liang: Formed by two worldsn From Taiwan, she brings her love of animals to America

Story­and­photo­by­Altrenia­Littleton

It was the week before Christmas and the tree in the Medhanie home was decorated with tinsel, ornaments, candy canes, a star and bells.

There were no presents under the tree; the family likes to hide their presents so they can enjoy being tempted imagining what’s coming.

Hosana Medhanie, who is 15, took the bus home right after school one afternoon. Her older and younger sister stayed late at school,

and her parents were still at work as usual.When Hosana was entering her house, she

felt something wasn’t quite right. Usually ev-erything was dark when she came home, but she saw light coming from the bottom of the staircase. After waiting a while she went out-side and saw that a screen was torn and the window was open.

Their home had been burglarized.Hosana’s iPod and her computer were gone

with all of her favorite music: Lil Wayne and Drake. Her computer held memories of

her friends and family. It also held all of her schoolwork.

The Christmas presents, well-hidden, were not taken.

But unfortunately, her mother’s valuables were stolen — priceless jewelry. Hosana’s mother, Saba Bahta, had worked for one of the queens in Eritrea, and that queen had given Saba Bahta gold and silver jewelry that was worth thousands of dollars in appreciation of her service.

Hosana’s parents are from Eritrea; her mom

was the nanny for a prince.The burglary was hard on the Medhanie

family. But they comforted one another. She and her sisters began to hang out with each other more than before.

The burglary made them look on the bright side — no one was hurt. They still had each other and a shared culture. Their Catholic faith and prayer help them believe that everything would be OK.

Through the years, her mother has taught Hosana discipline and forgiveness. Her dad, Medhanie Embaye, has taught her giving back and remembering.

Hosana was born in Portland, and she attended Holy Redeemer Catholic School. She now goes to De La Salle North Catholic High School.

Even though she was born in America, Ho-sana is aware of her roots and that Eritrea is her second home.

She took a trip to Eritrea when she was 7. She felt kind of out of place. But she also said she felt like she belonged. She felt like every-one looked like her. But at the same time she felt she was different from Eritreans.

She also couldn’t speak their language, Ti-grinya, fluently.

“The trip to Eritrea was beautiful,” she says. “But at the same time there were sights that were not so pleasant.”

There was a lot of poverty, houses that didn’t have indoor plumbing and children who didn’t have shoes.

Hosana and her family gave them candy, clothing, shoes and toys they had brought with them.

They returned with their bags much lighter but she brought back a greater good — knowl-edge of her culture.

It was very different from Portland. But her father was there to remind her that

this was where she came from. And to remem-ber that this country is her second home.

Story­and­photo­by­Sabra­Chandiwalla

Terror. Families torn apart by anguish and the need for survival. The stench of death fresh in the air.

The war in Somalia was fierce and constant, filling its people with despair and quashing the hopes of many at ever seeing it end. In one final act of survival, Shamso Ali and her family man-aged to secure safe passage to America with the help of the U.S. government.

Upon arriving in Houston on Sept. 11, 2001, then 7-year-old Shamso and her family unknow-ingly entered America mere minutes before ter-rorists crashed planes into the side of the Twin Towers in New York. Dazed and confused by the multitude of people crying around her, and filled with relief over leaving war in Somalia, all Shamso wanted was to go home and sleep.

Shamso’s family received green cards, So-cial Security cards and food stamps. On top of that, the small Somali community in Houston helped the Ali family buy groceries, take their kids to school and get all their proper shots. Al-though Shamso’s family received ample support from the surrounding community, Texas wasn’t home.

“We had family in Oregon,” Shamso said, “so we asked the government if we could move there instead.” Three months later, Shamso, her mom, Rahma, her dad, Mohamed, and her eight siblings moved to Beaverton.

Shamso has always been surrounded by fam-ily and relatives. It’s what she is used to; she considers them a comfort. In Somalia, Shamso’s family lived with her grandparents and helped

out around the house. Now that she’s in the United States, it isn’t much different.

Shamso, now 16, does a lot of baby-sitting and a lot of cleaning but she doesn’t seem to mind taking on this heavy responsibility.

“My mom had to watch her siblings when she was young and I was brought up to do the same,” Shamso said, ex-plaining that she and her mom take turns watching the kids. “When she goes out with friends, I watch them for her, and when I’m out with friends, she watches them for me. I feel like they’re my kids, too.”

Although Shamso has lived in Bea-verton for nearly nine years, she never forgets where she came from.

“My dad and sister are working on this project to create a school in Somalia for orphaned chil-dren,” she said. “I really like what they’re do-ing and I want to help them with it ... and when

I’m older I would love to go back and visit Somalia.”

Shamso’s mother is also very active in giv-ing back to the com-munity in the same way the Somali com-munity in Texas helped her. She buys grocer-ies, takes kids to school or to the hospital and babysits.

With a learned and observed passion for equality and creating an environment where everyone can succeed, Shamso has already be-gun to make a change in her school by joining student government as the Representative of Assemblies, with the hopes of unifying the whole school. An in-coming junior at West-view High School, Shamso said her school is very big and diverse,

but not many people get to see its diversity. Starting next year, Shamso and her student

government peers plan to start a drawing con-test to get artists in her school more involved. The winner will have the opportunity to put their design on T-shirts to be sold at the school. This

is one of the ways Shamso hopes to unify stu-dents.

Shamso hopes to one day become a nonfic-tion writer. She once read a biography of an Af-rican man and his journey to America and saw the resemblance to her life through his eyes.

“His experiences in Africa, then his experi-ence moving to and living in America,” Shamso said. “(His story) relates to my life and how I grew up.”

She wants to educate the world using the ex-periences of her subjects as she paints their story across each page and splashes each moment with the rich texture of their life. Shamso also wants to write an autobiography and has already filled two spiral notebooks about her personal experiences.

“I write whenever I can,” she said. Along with writing nonfiction, Shamso would

like to try her hand at other types of writing that incorporate her love and admiration for fashion. Eventually she wants to travel around the world and settle in New York where she plans on writ-ing for a fashion magazine, preferably Vogue, and continuing her dream of writing nonfiction.

“New York is where the fashion is,” she said. “I love everything about fashion; the creativity, how someone can take something so simple and transform it into something so beautiful.”

While Shamso lives far from her war-torn homeland, her life experiences have become part of her identity.

She may not know what the future holds for her, but she knows that it will make for a won-derful tale full of exciting adventures, character-building challenges and an honest, deliberate truth behind every word she writes.

Shamso Ali: Out of Somali devastation n Teen finds power in writing after arriving in America on Sept. 11, 2001

Page �� | June �010

I like learning about other people. I usually talk to everyone. It makes me more aware of who I am. | Stephany Chum

Hosana Medhanie: Journey to togethernessn Family draws closer after tragedy at home, visit to Eritrea

Story­and­photo­by­Hosana­Medhanie

Altrenia Littleton is often at a loss for the spo-ken word, but she can easily write about her feel-ings and experiences in her blue, locked journal, with hearts and jewels on the cover.

Dear Diary,Is me not talking affecting my peers? Why

can’t I just tell what I feel? ... I tell myself ‘will they use it against me?’ I want to speak but there’s nothing found!

Altrenia feels most comfortable writing in her room alone, in either the morning or at night. She lies down on her silk blue comforter that covers her queen-sized bed. There’s no music filling the room, as Altrenia prefers the delicate sound of her pencil, etching against the lined white pages.

Dear Diary,Being alone is just me. Is it because I’m the

youngest child and the rest are grown? Do I be-long? I have to trust myself! Searching for myself but every time I end up at a DEADEND!

She writes with speed, regularly going through a single diary every few years, because she writes up to three times a day. Altrenia’s been writing in a diary since the fifth grade, and she keeps up with her tradition of throwing away her diary af-ter reaching the last page.

“I don’t keep my diaries, because of all the pain and burdens that is in them,” she says. “Put-ting them into the trash is like throwing away bad memories and just starting over.”

Altrenia, 14, answers in one-word sentences and “shuts down” when she talks about her feel-ings. She only writes.

Dear Diary,I’m feeling kind of upset about myself, because

I don’t think I’m doing enough for Dave. How could I help? I feel like I’m getting even more closer to him then before. Isn’t it strange how you see or hear about others’ sad stories? And you think that nothing like that will happen to you? But it ends up happening to you anyway.

She admires her basketball coach at Parkrose High School, Dave Delestatious, greatly. She can just talk to him, and he just listens. Dave encour-ages and pushes her, by always showing up for practice, even though he has pancreatic cancer.

“If he’s here every day for practice, why can’t I be too?” Altrenia asks.

The whole team tries to spend a lot of time with him on and off the court. The team members sometimes bicker amongst themselves, but they do not want him to know about it, because they don’t want to cause him stress.

Altrenia did not know much about this type of cancer, so she did her research by asking Dave and others. She also went on the Internet to Google it, so that she could understand what he was going through.

The doctors now say that Dave has about a year to live. His goal before he dies is to take his team to the state championships. The team plans on continuing to do what they have been doing — practicing hard, working on teamwork and doing their best.

“On the court we put aside our problems,” she says, “and focus on the one thing we all have in common.”

Her brothers first got her into basketball. Altre-nia finally got the courage to try out for basketball in seventh grade. Now she’s a freshman playing guard on the varsity team.

Dear Diary,I love him so much! My little nephew, Cori —

sweet, lovely and playful! Sometimes I just look at him and tears just want to fall — like drops of rain dew. But I have to remember that I have to show him that I’m strong so he can have the same feeling of strength as well.

Altrenia and her 2-year-old nephew, Corinthi-an, have a special bond. She loves spending time with him. However, she witnessed him having his first seizure in January 2009. Cori and Altre-nia were upstairs in her room watching a movie and Cori started shaking. Her brother called 9-1-1. After five minutes an ambulance arrived. Altrenia admires Cori because even through his temporary symptoms, including memory loss and fevers, he never gives up, a trait that Altrenia values.

Her aunt, whom she calls “mom,” adopted her when she was only 3 months old. Altrenia is accustomed to being surrounded by a big fam-ily. Growing up with four older brothers and one sister, she lived on Killingsworth Street in North Portland. Her parents always told her it was dif-

ficult in that neighborhood. There were shootings and gangs.

Then she moved to the Parkrose neighbor-hood, a relief for the family. Altrenia loves the fact that she’s known most classmates since the fourth-grade at Prescott Elementary School, then Parkrose Middle School and now Parkrose High School.

In the future she plans to pursue law, because she loves participating in mock trials in her classes. Criminal cases and prosecution intrigue her.

“Even though the prosecution side never wins, I like that side better,” Altrenia says with a smile.

She learns a lot from her mom, and whenever she wants to talk about some things, she ends up writing long letters to her mom. “I feel like I’m letting my mom down, by not expressing myself, and that’s what I want to work on.”

Dear Diary,Thank you for listening. I feel like I can write

anything in here, and won’t get judged or put down! You’re a lot of help! Oh just one thing… can you help me express my feelings?

Story­and­photo­by­Francisco­Lopez-Bautista

Most people are frightened by the thought of public speaking or performing for a crowd. Most young adults are still trying to find themselves. For Taylor “TJ” Grady, these indecisive moments in her life ended the very first time she stepped on a stage, performing in a third-grade play.

In elementary school, Taylor’s teachers gave assignments that involved speaking to the class. Taylor later came to the conclusion that the big-ger the crowd, the more comfortable she felt per-forming. “I know that saying that the bigger the crowd the more comfortable I am on stage seems like a twisted perception.”

Acting started off as a passing interest and de-veloped into what she now calls a “love/obses-sion.” Taylor has devoted herself to theater; not just the performing aspect but anything that will bring about a more profound sense of creativity to whatever she does.

Taylor, a 17-year-old student at Parkrose High School, is a member of the International Thes-pian Society. One of her proudest moments as a theater artist came when she wrote a one-act play during her junior year. It started with her re-

discovery of a sketch written by a friend of hers during eighth grade. Skeptical at first, she began to change a few things. In between moments of proof-reading, her imagination roamed free. She began adding ideas and soon developed it into something of her own.

Her inspiration and effort paid off when her peers at Parkrose performed the play. The thought of her work being used brought forth a rush of emotions.

“It was amazing seeing my work come to life on stage,” she says. “The feeling is indescrib-able.”

Taylor not only has had moments of success, but moments that have tested her will to keep go-ing. But even when discouraged, she has stayed motivated. For her, acting always holds room for improvement.

Taylor’s life and heart don’t stray far from what she loves doing. When not rehearsing or studying, Taylor finds time to enjoy her favorite TV musical, “Glee.”

“What can I say, I’m kind of a theater nerd,” Taylor says, laughing.

Many might view Taylor’s obsession as strange. But in this world of mediocrity, settling

for a job that drains your drive and ambition is out of the question for this aspiring actress. Tay-lor knows that the journey to Broadway will be filled with hardships and full of hard work.

So, whenever in need of reassurance, Taylor

refers to a quote by the 18th-century poet Alex-ander Pope: “Act well thy part, there all the honor lies.”

And on the road to theatrical acclaim, Taylor plays her part very well.

Taylor Grady: A home onstagen Dramatic pursuits turn to creative obsession

Page �� | June �010

If we can learn to hate, we can learn to love. The only way to change it is to change yourself. | Hilaria De Jesus Hernandez

Altrenia Littleton: Page by page, she confides her feelingsn Who is the girl who hides behind the unspoken words in her diary?

By­Mary­Ruiz­

As she spins in a black office chair, feet tucked under her, curly hair bouncing, smile on her face, Kimberly Mejia tells a story.

“I remember riding my bike around the stores, and everyone knowing me.” She smiles as she thinks back to her time grow-ing up in California.

Kimberly knew what it was like to not only feel at home in her own house, but also in her community. From being able to sing karaoke outside with her neighborhood friends, to walking down the street to see jungles taking over her neighbors’ front lawns.

“Everyone knew each other, everything felt right,” she said, but before she knew it, her familiar life was ripped right out from under her nose. Kimberly was moving — from sunny, close-knit California, to lonely old Oregon.

The junior at Century High School in Hillsboro went from knowing everyone to starting completely over. Kimberly lost big, friendly family gatherings. But, in an unfa-miliar, new environment, she gained confi-dence to push herself to try harder in school, join things that interested her and work toward her goals. She joined dance team, sometimes practicing nine hours at a time, she writes for her school newspaper and was elected to student government.

Her father, Adolfo Mejia, said the family moved because they wanted a better life and education for Kimberly and her two younger brothers. Kimberly, now 16, agrees that the schools in her community are better, her

peers are less likely to be involved in gangs and drugs, and her new community is much calmer. Something her old community did do was, “made me a stronger person,” said Kimberly.

Not one to disappoint her loved ones, Kim-berly pushes herself forward and toward her goal of, “being someone in life. Not (Martin

Luther King) status, or Obama. Just someone people can remember.”

Kimberly’s best friend from California, Carolina Dorado, says her friend is already influencing someone.

“I can just imagine her smiling and I would just want to tell her that I look up to her,” Do-rado said. “She inspires me.”

Kimberly is always challenging herself. At the High School Journalism Institute, the students were invited to jump from poles about 30 feet in the air to catch a trapeze bar. With fists clenched and a nervous smile on her face, Kimberly was standing at the top of the pole, arms extended, ready to jump. She missed the bar and ended up hanging by her harness before being lowered to the ground. An hour or so before that, she was squirming in her bright orange sweater, watching in dis-belief as the event coordinators climbed up the poles to set up the activity. She made the leap because, “You wouldn’t get that chance every day, so I wanted to try it.”

Kimberly went from barely trying at school to now having a dream of attending a university. Her love for learning and expe-riencing new things spreads to others in her life, including Kimberly’s friend Annicia Li-mon, 16. In the beginning of the school year, Limon had signed up for an advanced class and got a C.

“So I called Kimberly and started freak-ing out, and she stopped me and said, ‘Don’t worry. You’re passing with a C. I know you can do better, just take your time and keep pushing forward.’ I’m pretty sure that if she hadn’t said that to me I would’ve dropped that class. I stayed and ended up passing with an A. She really pushes me to do better,” said Limon.

“I’m a great believer in things happening for a reason,” says Kimberly. It’s a favor-ite quote she relates to her everyday life. “I think I’ve changed, and I think I’ve changed for the better.”

Page �� | June �010

Diversity can put things in perspective for people. | Taylor Grady

Francisco Lopez-Bautista: From distractions to determinationn Once skating on thin ice, a partier becomes a budding writer

Kimberly Mejia: Making the most out of a difficult moven She leaves her close-knit community for a place with better opportunities

Story­and­photo­by­Taylor­Grady

A Latino high school boy stands surrounded by other teens clutching half-drunk beer and liquor bottles. He’s enjoying himself, but then looks around at the other partygoers. He no-tices kids — who aren’t really kids anymore — still hanging around at high school parties; 19- to 21-year-olds. He begins to wonder: Is that who I’m going to be?

Francisco Lopez-Bautista, 18, is a gradu-ate of Molalla High School, though his path to graduation was not easy. By the end of his freshman year, he was three credits behind the required amount — by his junior year, he was eight credits short. He’d been distracted in ear-lier years by that teenage desire to fit in.

“I was trying to fulfill a fantasy,” Francisco said. “But I fit in somewhere where I was not me.”

Freshman through junior year, he spent the majority of his time partying and skipping classes. When he started seeing those older kids at high school parties, stuck in the same place he was, he knew something was wrong. He began to worry that he was settling for a fun four-year experience, but a miserable life in the long run.

“I don’t wanna be that person,” Francisco said. “I [needed] to do something.”

Francisco’s life had begun to stray from a promising future. His early love of writing paved the way for success, but distractions continued to lead him astray. He succeeded in overcoming them during his senior year, getting credits through a program called E-School. He was supposed to work on the pro-gram for an hour and a half each day. Rather, he put it off for days, until late evenings when the year was nearing the end. Recovering cred-its took up a lot of his free time.

“It made me wanna go back and start all over again,” he said. “I wished I had done it right the first time.”

He now plans to attend college and major in journalism and minor in English at Western

Oregon University or pos-sibly the University of Ore-gon. Creative writing, how-ever, has been his greatest method of self-expression.

“I just capture the mo-ment,” Francisco said.

He was born in Port-land to Mexican parents. Though his parents spoke only Spanish, 4-year-old Francisco began picking up English on his own from watching TV. Both languag-es are spoken in the home, sometimes overlapping into “Spanglish” among he and his brother, 13, and sister, 16.

Despite his ease with the language, he was placed into ELL (English Lan-guage Learners) classes at school.

“Someone assumed that because I was Hispanic, I needed help with English,” Francisco said.

He was enrolled in ELL classes until his sophomore year. He was told that the state required the classes be offered.

“What they didn’t tell us was that we could refuse,” he said.

One reason Francisco hadn’t protested being placed in ELL classes was that he could easily receive an A. But he soon found that regular English classes helped him improve his writing.

Despite his love of writing, he’d never had any journalism experience when he found out about the High School Journalism Institute and figured it would be a good way to learn about the field.

“I noticed (in journalism) the articles were short, and the writing was good,” he said. “I just thought, ‘I could do that.’ ”

The inspiration for his writing is rap music.“I really like how rappers use metaphors in

their music,” Francisco said. “A lot of my vo-cabulary has come from music.”

Rap lyrics have sparked a broader interest in school for him. He recognizes rhetorical de-vices in lyrics and deciphers their meaning.

“I was like, ‘This is what we’re doing in English. I can do this,’ ” he said.

Next to writing and music, one of Francis-co’s everyday passions is skateboarding.

Francisco was not only a member of a skate crew, but was sponsored by a company called Fall Line, which gave him free skateboards every month.

His perseverance in skateboarding has become a metaphor for his outlook on life’s challenges. As an example, he describes a skater trying to land a trick. The skater tries and fails for hours as the day winds down, and soon it gets dark and the day nears the end. The skater keeps trying regardless. Eventu-ally, he lands it, and an immense feeling of pride washes over him.

“You can go home at the end of the day with a sense of accomplishment,” Francisco said.

Francisco’s main motivation — from land-ing those skateboard tricks to regaining those lost credits — is simply overcoming the odds and defeating society’s stereotypes. “The sky is not the limit. It’s just the beginning,” he said.

Story­and­photo­by­Erikka­Potts

In life, struggles can make or break a person.The struggle can separate the strong from the

weak, the smart from the mindless, the survivors from the fallen.

Stephany Chum has had her struggles, but she hasn’t let them define her. In fact, to many, she might appear to be the typical happy-go-lucky teenager. Stephany, who this fall will be a junior at Glencoe High School, thrives in her school-work and extracurricular activities. She carries a 3.7 grade-point average and is a member of the Hillsboro school’s Diversity Club, Key Club and Student Council.

She says her involvement helps her break out of her shyness and challenges her to do things she loves. In her spare time, Stephany enjoys reading, scrapbooking, writing in her journal and cooking. She also loves to dance.

“Dance, just like writing, is a form of self-ex-pression,” Stephany says. “Dancing is a way for me to express myself.”

She has recently joined ballet. She says that al-though it is strict and difficult, it is, in fact, worth-while. Stephany says it’s a great feeling when she finally gets a move down.

But if she had to spend a whole day doing one thing, she would be at the beach, in a circle around a bonfire with her family and close friends.

“I’m the type of person who wants to bond and build strong relationships with everyone, so it doesn’t matter where or what we’re doing as long as the people I care about are there,” she says.

And among the people whom Stephany most cares about is her family. Stephany, who was born in Portland in 1993, is a first-generation American whose parents escaped from the Khmer Rouge.

From 1975 to 1979, the three-and-a-half year reign of Khmer Rouge leader Pol Pot led to the

deaths of more than two million people. The gov-ernment forced civilians to evacuate their homes, property and businesses. Many people were killed during this genocide. It was absolute chaos, with forced labor, executions and starvation.

Stephany’s parents and grandparents worked in labor fields for their food. Her maternal grandfather was killed by soldiers, and her parents and grand-mother fled Cambodia in 1984. Her mother and grandmother were separated from her father when Cambodian guards started shooting at them as they approached the Cambodia-Thailand border.

Stephany’s mother and grandmother took ref-uge in Thailand, where her sister, Soliravy, was

born in 1987. Stephany’s father attempted to cross the border into Thailand three months later but Thailand wouldn’t let him take refuge.

The immigration problems kept her father, So-van Chum, from coming to America in September 1989 with Stephany’s mother, Sochiviny “Viny” Sam; grandmother, Sarem Ly; aunt Jennifer; aunt Ammarin; Uncle Sam; and Soliravy. They settled in Portland, with her father joining them in 1993.

During her childhood, Stephany and Uncle Sam grew extremely close.

“They were always very close, their relationship like father-daughter,” Soliravy says. “He was like our second dad.”

Stephany and Uncle Sam had much in com-mon. He was her rock. He supported her in what-ever she did and she could always count on him. Sadly, Uncle Sam died of cancer in 2006.

It really shook her world, Stephany says.“I was in a state of shock for a few days. I just

couldn’t believe that he was going to be gone for-ever,” she says. “I felt like everything was spiraling down. I couldn’t really talk to anyone. I felt as if I was completely alone and by myself.”

During this time, she and her sister began to emotionally drift toward each other.

“It was a time that me and my sister really needed each other,” Stephany says, referring to

the funeral. “We were crying and hugging so much that a spark went off and our relationship really started to build.”

She says her uncle’s passing “made me ap-preciate life and the people in it far, far more than I ever had.”

Inspired by her uncle, Stephany plans to follow through with her dreams to at-tend the University of Oregon and major in journalism and minor in marketing.

“He was always so enthusiastic and sup-portive about what-ever I wanted to do,” Stephany says. “He has really influenced my decision to become a reporter.”

Story­and­photo­by­Marco­Reyes­­­ ­Rain pours; thunder crashes in the sky. Sitting

on top of her house, 6-year-old Hilaria De Jesus Hernandez watches the village. People disappear into their houses. Mud makes it impossible for them to walk, because many here do not have shoes. The dark brown slimy mud can flood and destroy homes. But there is nowhere to escape. The village — Juxclahuaca — is surrounded by mountains, located in the middle of a forest in Oaxaca, Mexico.

In this environment, young Hilaria was forced to mature quickly. Within a year, her family would leave the poverty and isolation of their village and cross the mountains and the U.S.-Mexico border to eventually land in Hillsboro. But a misfortune happened: Hilaria’s mom died of cancer when Hilaria was 11.

The difficult times propelled Hilaria, now 14 and a freshman at Liberty High School, to grow as a person. Today, she works hard to get good grades and help her family. She is looking for-ward to a better future, one in which she doesn’t have to experience poverty and loss again.

“Life was hard, I literally learned how to suf-fer,” Hilaria said. But, “there are obstacles that are meant to be learned in order to know how to enjoy life.”

The village where Hilaria grew up with her three sisters and two brothers had a small popula-tion living in poverty. There was no clean water, no electricity and sometimes no food. Hilaria’s mom had no stove and had to cut wood with a machete to make a fire. The family had a hard time getting to a nearby town to buy food, be-cause there was only one steep, rocky dirt path. On a day with the temperature at above 90 de-grees, young Hilaria walked more than two miles

to get water for her family. She had no shoes; her feet bled from the thorns on the path. Hilaria still has the scars on her feet.

One day, Hilaria’s mom got sick and the fam-ily didn’t have money for medicine. Her parents wanted to improve their life of poverty, so they made an important decision; her father had to im-migrate to the United States. He made it to Cali-fornia but had a hard time finding a job. He went door to door, and finally was lucky to find a man who gave him work as a gardener.

Eventually, her father sent money to bring the rest of the family to the U.S. when Hilaria was 7. Hilaria had a hard time adjusting to the changes.

The family was devastated by the loss of her mother. Hilaria felt broken apart. Her father told her she needed to study to fulfill her mom’s dream: that her daughter has an education and a profession. Hilaria also had to help her big sisters with house chores.

Hilaria struggled to learn English. As she en-tered first grade, she got help from her teachers.

“I knew there was a new language in the Unit-ed States, but I didn’t know I had to learn it,” she said.

But Hilaria never gave up trying. She was in ESL classes until eighth grade, when she took the ESL test and passed it, scoring the highest of all

her classmates. Another problem for Hilaria was getting used

to American culture. She hated hamburgers and pizza, because they weren’t spicy. She missed the family she left behind in Mexico. And she had a hard time getting used to living in a busy city en-vironment. But with time, she adjusted to living in the United States.

Today, Hilaria’s past makes her appreciate the things most people take for granted: living in a house with a nice backyard where she feels protected; having water in the sink; not worry-ing about food every day. Although her past was

hard, Hilaria said she is looking forward, not backward. She has a passion for living life: she is involved in Mesa, a science and engineering club, and Liberty Fits, a mara-thon training group. In the future, Hilaria plans to study broad-cast journalism and hopes to become a TV reporter.

The young girl from the village has grown into a young woman.

“There are opportu-nities in my life, why not take them?” she said. “The past is in the past, and I’m in the fu-ture. I’m ready to live my life.”

Hilaria De Jesus Hernandez: Forced to grow at a young agen She leaves behind poverty, unexpected tragedy for a better life

Page �� | June �010

Acknowledge the diversity we have. (Then) you can respect who they are and understand the things they do. | Yuca Kosugi

Stephany Chum: Chasing a dream, inspired by her unclen She emerges from family death a stronger person

Story­and­photo­by­Osman­A.­Omar

Pablo Picasso, a famous artist, once said, “Action is the foundational key to all success.” At age 16, Monica Melchor has already ac-complished much, by taking action.

In eighth grade she was class president at her middle school. She ran for president because she wanted to be helpful, and she wanted a chance to lead.

Earlier this year she discovered she had a natural knack for painting. Her realistic picture of a bunch of green peppers won acclaim from peers and teachers.

Now, as an incoming junior at Woodburn High School, she has a desire to do more.

“You’re the only person who can tell you that you can, or can’t, do something,” Monica said.

Her mother is the one who builds on Mon-ica’s curiosity by encouraging her and telling her not to worry about messing up.

When Monica was deciding whether to do the journalism camp, but wasn’t sure if she had time to fill out the application and write the two essays, her mom was the one who said to her, “You have done this before.” That picked her up.

Araceli, Monica’s mother, works as a pre-school teacher and goes to school, all while supporting two teenage daughters. She leaves for work at 5 or 6 a.m., comes home at 2 p.m. and then leaves again for classes at 5 p.m.

Monica’s face lights up, sprinkled with a smile, when she talks about her childhood. Then her demeanor changes.

Monica is one of the many kids who grew up without a father. She was 3 years old when her parents divorced. The last time she saw her father was three years ago. Monica has tried to call her dad, but he is nowhere to be found.

Her father’s absence is one of the many chal-lenges that she has had to overcome. “It gives me an example of something that I am never going to do.”

Monica is a petite teen, dressed in a dark car-digan and chocolate brown boots. She carries herself with a certain swagger. Her chin seems to be down only when she reads.

Monica has set high standards for herself. She applied for International Baccalaureate courses for this fall. She wants to write a novel, and is looking into careers that involve coun-seling, psychology or journalism.

Monica is passionate about her writing. In her free time she writes poems and lyrics. Her writing reflects her thoughts about various sub-jects such as freedom, and herself. She reads books that she can relate to, like “The Alche-mist,” and she reads books for fun, like “The Lucky One.”

“I want people to be inspired and amazed, and to look into the beyond,” she said of her writing.

She also believes, after reading “The Alche-mist,” that “Dreams can come true.”

Story­and­photo­by­Musba­Abasham

Before taking journalism class freshman year, Brittany Nguyen was a pushover who was too nice. But during two years on the student news-paper as editor-in-chief, she learned how to lead a group of students and to take control. It gave her the confidence she has today.

“(Working on the newspaper) has been lots of fun and has taught me a lot about journalism,” said Brittany, who just graduated from Tigard High School. “It has taught me to be a lot more patient because I don’t have patience when it comes to people.”

Brittany, 18, has focused on her student news-paper and her schoolwork for years to put herself in a position to achieve her goal of becoming a journalist. She hopes to become a magazine designer of fashion spreads just like the power-ful editor in “The Devil Wears Prada.” She also knows what she has to do to achieve her goals. This fall, she’ll begin studying journalism at the University of Oregon.

“With journalism, life will never be boring,” she said. “You never have to do the same thing over and over or sit in a cubicle bored to death.”

She knew her parents couldn’t pay for her entire college education, so Brittany applied for scholarships. She’ll attend UO this fall, in part with the help of a $4,000 journalism scholarship and a $1,500 Dean’s scholarship to help with liv-ing expenses.

Brittany plans to room with her best friend from high school, but she still wants to meet new people. She’s really looking forward to taking classes she enjoys most, such as journalism.

Brittany’s foundation is her family. She’s es-pecially close to her two older sisters, Jeanie, 26, and Kim, 23. They were there for her from the beginning.

“They taught me how to read,” Brittany

said. “My first book was ‘Hop On Pop.’ They were great role models in high school. They were involved in many activities and kept good grades.”

When she was younger, Brittany thought about getting a tattoo or doing something crazy when she turned 18. But now that she’s an adult,

she thinks carefully about potential consequenc-es even though she is free to get a tattoo or mis-behave.

“My parents worked so hard and sacrificed so much to make their children’s life better,” she said. “The values and morals I grew up with have all become part of my life as an adult.”

Brittany’s parents were strict, and that forced her to be mature and focus on her work. When she was younger, she thought about get-ting a tattoo or letting loose.

She also learned her values from her role models, such as her high school track coach, who was a big inspiration in her life. He gave her the will to want more and to use more of her skills.

“The coach for our track team was the first person to push me be-yond my limits,” said Brittany, who has run sprints and relays for seven years. “Even though I hated it, he was my role model and idol, kind of like a big brother.”

Both track and jour-nalism have helped Brittany grow. She never thought a high school class would have influenced her life in the long run. She

didn’t go into it thinking she would be thrown into a leadership role, but the experience taught her that everybody has a story, including herself.

“It lets me not be afraid in front of others,” she said, “and I never cared about people judg-ing me.”

Page �� | June �010

A lot of kids here I probably wouldn’t talk to if they were at my school. But I feel more open-minded. | Tameeka LeRay

Monica Melchor: Writer, artist and overachievern Encouragement from her mother keeps her going through some early challenges

Brittany Nguyen: A goal with a silver liningn In moving forward, she learned patience, confidence, leadership

Story­and­photo­by­Kimberly­Mejia

The sound of a peaceful melody is heard when Mary Ruiz places her fingers on the strings of her favorite instrument, the guitar.

In fifth grade, she took lessons until she thought she was well prepared to teach herself. In ninth grade, she participated in a school va-riety show.

“It was just me and my guitar, alone,” said Mary. Hearing the crowd clap was a sign. “I guess I did pretty good.”

Every time she plays her guitar, she feels free. That’s when she shows another side of her outgoing self – allowing her to share her quiet, shy, invisible side that comes out while she plays.

Lately, Mary uses music to forget about her problems. When she is performing, “I’m not there.” But when she takes that one step out of her purple-painted bedroom, she faces reality.

Music may be sugar and sweetness to Mary, but many things changed when unemployment gave a knock at her family’s door. Heavy stress, nights without sleep, lots of tension and strug-gles to find a job were some of the many things her family encountered when both parents were left without a job.

“I am just a kid . . . I had to push myself really hard,” Mary said.

Mary’s parents are always pushing her, and her four siblings, to strive for the best. Her moth-er, Patricia De La O, picks Mary up at home af-ter work so they can spend time together while

driving to pick up her yonger sisters. Every day, she reminds Mary: “Continue working hard like always, continue with your dream of going to college, and most of all ... continue the way you

are: an excellent daughter, an excellent sister and an excellent girl.”

But when the recession came along, both of her parents were sad to know they wouldn’t be

able to support their kids and push them, when they could bare-ly push themselves.

After Mary’s dad lost his job at West-ern Precision Prod-ucts Inc., where he constructed parts for Army airplanes for 12 years, he finally found a job at a car shop. Her mom had worked for five years at Kershaw, where she made knives, and is now working at WPP. “They fired my dad and hired my mom,” said Mary.

She knew it was time to make sacri-fices, and went to her parents, letting them know that a cell phone wasn’t really neces-sary and that cable to watch SpongeBob was not required at the moment. It’s what

a tight-knit family does.“She is extremely down to earth,” said Sahar

Petri, Mary’s close friend.Mary, being very sentimental, according to

her father, was not only affected by her family’s problems but is also very conscious of other people’s problems.

Mary now devotes time to others. She vol-unteers through Team Tualatin to help her com-munity. She helps at school as a member of the Pay it Forward Club and through Student Prin-cipal Ambassadors to assist foreign exchange students. She helps her family more by baby-sitting, doing her own laundry and cleaning her room.

And, as her dad describes her, Mary still man-ages to keep a smile on her face.

Seeing life from another perspective, she re-alizes that sometimes people experience these types of problems in their everyday life.

When she was younger she saw music as a hobby. Now, at age 15, she sees music as pur-poseful.

She enjoyed playing “Boats and Birds” by Gregory and The Hawk, a song that not only can she relate to, but also a song that will relate to her audience and will stand out to them.

“Sharing a different side of my personality” through music, Mary hopes to really connect with her audience.

She wants to “make the world a little hap-pier,” letting inspiration shine through those shaggy bangs that hang above her partially hid-den eyes.

Mary Ruiz: A smile and a guitar carry her through the recessionn Her family faces financial problems, but music, friends keep her going

Story­and­photo­by­Paulina­Liang

Aidan doesn’t have a lot of free time, but he doesn’t mind.

He’s an honor roll student at Madison High School in Northeast Portland. After school he practices sports, and in the fall he plays soccer for the Madison Senators. He loves going out to eat with his friend, Basil Urom, a native of Nigeria.

But Aidan, 16, still makes time most days for a one-and-a-half-hour fitness program at home, demonstrated on a DVD. The program consists of plyometrics, “which is a fancy word for jump training,” he says.

There’s more to him than just working out and sports. Although his father, Mitch Orellana, is a Portland police officer, Aidan’s not interested in following his dad’s footsteps. Instead, he wants to be a sports journalist.

His father is supportive of his children’s goals: “Whatever their talent, whatever they want to do.”

Aidan has lived in the same Portland neigh-borhood his entire life, but he enjoys discovering new cultures and learning about new races. He wants to study abroad. He has traveled to Mexico and is planning to go to San Diego this summer. He enjoys tasting foods of different cultures and spices.

“I like Mexican and Thai food because of all the mixtures of spices they have,” Aidan says.

He comes from a large family with Apache In-dian and Mexican ancestors. Aidan grew up not learning Spanish because his grandparents did not teach the language to Aidan’s father.

Aidan also enjoys playing basketball and watching football. He seems to stick to what he does best and says he doesn’t want to join a bas-ketball or football team in school.

“I’m not good at all sports. I wish I was, though,” he says. However, he has many mem-

orable scars on his knees and legs from soccer. “When you get hit with a cleat during a game, you don’t notice that you’re bleeding or hurt until after,” he says.

Mitch Orellana encourages his son’s competi-tive spirit.

“Most important to me is that he’s out there trying, as long as he’s pushing himself to do bet-ter,” he said.

Aidan stands 5 feet 10½ inches tall and weighs just 135 pounds. He always looks like he’s on the move, with his legs and hands always in motion.

His parents tease him about being obsessively neat. Aidan’s extreme concern about the order of his room helps explain why.

He arranges 10 pairs of his nicest shoes in a row on the floor of his closet. His dirty soccer shoes are kept on the first floor of the house. His

clothes drawer in his closet is neatly arranged, from socks on the top drawer to pants on the bot-tom.

The family has three animals: a 6-year-old bea-gle named Buddy, a male cat named Louie and a female cat named Suzy. Aidan doesn’t want any more pets. After all, they make his house messy.

“There’s enough hair around the house,” he says.

Aidan Orellana: No distractions allowedn Motivated athlete keeps unwavering focus on future

Page �� | June �010

It feeds people’s curiosity. They want to see what other cultures are like. | Paulina Liang

Story­and­photos­by­Hilaria­De­Jesus­Hernandez

In the middle of the night, Marco Reyes hears his father pounding at the table. He watches him stand up and try to regain his balance. But his fa-ther fails and trips over his own shoes. His breath is heavy with alcohol. Little Marco quickly hides with his brothers and sisters; they know their par-ents will start arguing again. But the argument is so loud that Marco can hear the screams of his father and things falling. Marco’s heart is pump-ing fast; he starts to cry.

Throughout Marco Reyes’ life, his father, Magdaleno Luis Reyes Ramon, was usually ei-ther drunk or absent. Alcoholism destroyed their relationship. There were times that Marco needed him, but his father wasn’t around.

As a child, Marco discovered that photogra-phy was a distraction, an escape — whenever his father ignored him, the click of the shutter made Marco forget. But mostly, Marco loves the thrill of taking photos; the closeness he feels with the subjects. And the Tualatin High School teen hopes to become a professional photographer someday.

Growing up in Oaxaca, Mexico, Marco spent little time with his father. When Marco was 1 year old, his father came to the United States to find a better job. Every six months, he returned to visit the family. During his absence, Marco worked with his mom in the family grocery mar-ket. His role was to clean and arrange fruits and vegetables. When his father came back, he spent all his time drinking.

“He is the kind of person that didn’t really care about me,” Marco said. “I don’t have the support of my father.”

Eventually, his father found a friend that helped the Reyes family to get legal documents. When they arrived in Oregon, Marco thought the transition was going to help the father-son rela-tionship. He was wrong. Almost every day, his father came home late at night with the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“He totally went out of control,” Marco said. He felt frustration and grief; he wanted his father to stop. But his father kept on drinking.

That’s when Marco realized that photography eased his misery. He had been interested in pho-tography since he was a little kid. Soon after ar-riving in the United States, Marco’s mom took him to the store and bought him an old Kodak camera. Every day, Marco took pictures.

“When I felt mad or depressed, I just went out-side and started taking pictures,” he said. “That’s the way I like to express my emotions.”

As a junior in high school, Marco took the yearbook class. He loved it, because he had the opportunity to take pictures of people. His moth-er was very supportive of his passion; she bought him an expensive camera, a Canon SLR Rebel, at the beginning of his junior year.

“The weird and cool thing I do in that class is that if somebody does not want their picture taken, I would literally start chasing them until I take their picture,” he said.

Even though his father stopped drinking five years ago, their relationship is still unstable. Mar-co cannot start a conversation with him, because he feels awkward. But he hopes to have a rela-tionship with his father one day.

His father, Marco said, deserves a second chance, and Marco’s life will be complete if they both take a step to be connected. And how could they connect?

“Probably to start playing a soccer game with him will be a good start,” Marco suggests.

Marco, 17, wants to live in the future and he believes that photography would lead him to success. He hopes to pursue his dream to be a journalist/photographer. He hopes to work in the fashion industry or at Vogue magazine. Photos are really powerful, he believes, because they send a positive or negative message. Photog-raphy, he said, can impact people — the way it gave Marco new hope.

“Pictures do change someone’s life,” he said. “Images will always be there and will never go away.”

Marco Reyes: Photography helps express his feelingsn Faced with a father’s absence, he discovers his passion for photos

Page �� | June �010

My school, if you look at all the Asian people, they always bunch around each other. I talk to everybody. | Jason Liao

Story­and­photo­by­Stephany­Chum

As she shyly sits in her chair, Erikka Potts be-gins to tell her life story.

Erikka, who was born and raised in Portland, hasn’t had the orderly life that most kids seem to have. Since she was 3 months old, Erikka has been passed from one family member to another. Her mother was an abusive alcoholic and her fa-ther only came around once in a while. She now lives with her younger sister, Carmen, and foster mom, Stacie Cunningham.

Erikka, who is 15 and will be a sophomore this fall at Parkrose High School, is passionate about writing and says it has helped her through her struggles.

She is inspired to write about her life experi-ences — from painful memories growing up to deep, empowering poetry

Writing is an outlet for Erikka; she describes it as therapy and a form of self-expression.

“When there’s nothing you can do and nothing you can say, (writing) served as an outlet for me. It’s helped me not to be a hateful person holding everything in.”

In fifth grade, her life started to take a different turn when she read “A Child Called It,” a book by Dave Pelzer, who has overcome life-threatening obstacles. After reading the book, Erikka worked up the courage to seek help, telling her aunt, Jamila, about her abusive environment.

Erikka later found the inspiration to write from “A Child Called It.’’

During eighth grade at Parkrose Middle

School, an English teacher told Erikka about “Letters About Literature,” a program in which students from all over the United States write to an author about how his or her book affected their lives. Erikka took advantage of the opportunity and chose to write about “A Child Called It.” Her submission, one of 55,000 from across the na-

tion, won a national honorable mention.“I was in an incredible disbelief,’’ Erikka says.

“I never thought I could actually do something like this.”

She felt that she could use writing to express her strongest emotions and feelings. Writing helped her deal with the share of racial slurs and

crude comments she has endured, being of mixed ethnicity. Words that people hurled at her as hurt-ful she turned into material to write about.

“I used to let it affect me, but then I didn’t care because I’m my own person.”

Life changed course again when, at age 11, Er-ikka was placed in foster care. She says it was the best and worst thing that ever happened to her.

“It was really good because it gave me more opportunities in life with education and different programs,” Erikka says. “But it was also bad be-cause it split up my family.’’

With all the struggles she’s been through, Er-ikka has always found a way to stay positive and realistic. She has learned to be more empathetic and to see the world from a different perspective. She strives to be as much of a diverse person as she can.

Family has also been important in Erikka’s life. She describes her biological and foster families as loving people who just want to have a good time.

“I wouldn’t trade her for the world,’’ older sister, Caitlin, said. “She’s her own person and we’ve been through so much together.”

Amid everything, Potts has dreams of attend-ing the University of Oregon, majoring in art and minoring in psychology. Having already hit rock bottom, Erikka is ready for her future and every-thing in store for her.

“I know what it feels like to be below rock bot-tom and I know the process of getting up, and I’m pretty sure that whatever life brings me I can be strong enough to handle it.”

Erikka Potts: Write to healn After many disappointments, she finds strength in poetry

THE

PRIDE

1. Osm

an A

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arParkrose H

igh School

2. Erikka Potts

Parkrose High School

3. Altren

ia Littleton

Parkrose High School

4. Steph

any C

hu

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lencoe High School

5. Mo

nica M

elcho

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oodburn High school

6. Paulin

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Parkrose High School

7. Sham

so A

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igh School

8. Yu

ca Ko

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Barlow H

igh School

9. Taylor G

rady

Parkrose High School

10. Jason

LiaoFranklin H

igh School

11. Hilaria D

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Hern

and

ezLiberty H

igh School

12. Sabra C

han

diw

allaFranklin H

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13. Tameeka LeR

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14. Ho

sana M

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anie

De La Salle N

orth Catholic

15. Marco

Reyes

Tualatin High School

16. Mu

sba A

bash

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igh School

17. Dah

lia Bazzaz

St. Mary’s A

cademy

18. Kim

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19. Francisco

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autista

Molalla H

igh School

20. Brittan

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Tigard High School

21. Aid

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Madison H

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22. Mary R

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Tualatin High School

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