Curio 2020

Timeless tunes The Harrisonburg Harmonizers share a love of classic music

The Valley Magazine

Vol. 43 2020

Fresh roots Church World Service creates welcoming environment for refugees

Rain or shine WHSV meteorologist details her day on the job

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d l o e h t h t i w t u in with the ne w

Local couple fights human trafficking

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in this issue on the cover Part of what makes the valley resilient is its residents’ constant work toward creating a safer and more diverse community. Sabrina Dorman-Andrew is an example of someone who loves the Valley enough to confront its issues head on. Sabrina founded New Creation, an organization that strives to prevent sex trafficking, after learning about the presence of trafficking close to home. Our cover features Sabrina sitting in her store: a place full of colorful trinkets, skirts, necklaces and bibles, whose profits go to survivors of trafficking. Though the size of the issue can make it seem impossible to tackle, Sabrina’s store acts as a symbol of redemption.

Through education, she said, she hopes to end sex trafficking locally and around the globe.

Cover photo by Tristan Lorei

inside Table of contents photography provided by Tristan Lorei, Kailey Cheng, Jess Daddio and Kez Wilgus Illustrations by Carli Woodyear For exclusive online content, visit: www.curiomagazine.org

about curio Curio is published by students in the School of Media Arts & Design at James Madison University. It was founded in 1978 by Dr. David Wendelken and is published once a year in May. A special thanks to Curio’s adviser, Brad Jenkins, for helping make it all happen. Through wind, rain, hail and even a global pandemic, he’s made sure the staff had the tools it needed to get this magazine published despite the challenges of virtual learning.

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meet the staff

From top left: Tristan Lorei, Photo Editor Michael Bechtold, Senior Editor Carli Woodyear, Creative Director Traci Rasdorf, Executive Editor Kailey Cheng, Senior Editor

Cat Falvey, Senior Editor Caty Murphy, Staff Member Devon Merritt, Senior Editor Jazmine Otey, Articles Editor Jessica Kronzer, Editor Marjorie Bonga, Contributing Designer

Mitchell Sasser, Senior Editor Matthew Sasser, Copy Editor Mina Johnson, Managing Editor Morgan Phillips, Senior Editor Sabrina Goodwin, Senior Editor

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letter from the editors Dear readers, On the first day of feature magazine production when we sat in front of the Curio staff, we never expected the semester to end fully transitioned to online learning. In the midst of a global pandemic, our writers, designers and editors were forced to spread out away from the Shenandoah Valley, the very place we committed to capturing in our publication this semester.

Our classrooms on campus turned into our desks at home. Our in-person interviews turned strictly into phone calls. Our virtual adaptability while piecing together this magazine hasn’t been easy, but there wasn’t a doubt in our minds — halfway through the production process, we weren’t going to back down from the challenge.

Every member of this team has pulled through in one of the toughest times of our academic and professional careers, and we couldn’t be more proud of them. We spent the second half of production continuing to build these pages while practicing social distancing not only for you, our reader, but also for the people you’ll read about.

This edition is packed with words of commitment, community and resilience. They’re found in the details of how a familiar face like Aubrey Urbanowicz went from working at Chili’s to becoming a WHSV reporter and meteorologist, or in learning the deep, rich history of Shenandoah’s very own palace. Maybe they’ll resonate in a local comedian’s dedication to bringing joy to every audience member she performs for, or in the way First Russian Baptist Church brings people of all nations together in worship. They’ll even show up in one local chef’s love for food and social education, and in a woman’s determination to bring empowerment to the female community through pole fitness.

These and other brilliant stories can be found within Volume 43’s pages. We, like those who have lived here and already understand the feeling, adore this Valley and the people within it. There’s nothing that can truly represent the serendipity that is this place, but we hope we give you a glimpse into the passion, strength, and beauty that lies in the Shenandoah mountains.

The experience of producing this issue of Curio under such unprecedented circumstances is one we won’t forget. We’re proud of this work, and our hope is that these stories bring the light of the Shenandoah Valley to you during this time of uncertainty.

Traci Rasdorf, Jessica Kronzer and Mina Johnson

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Mina Johnson

Traci is a senior Media Arts & Design major concentrating in Journalism with a minor in Writing, Rhetoric and Technical Communication. For the past year she’s combined her life-long love of writing with design as a Culture Editor for The Breeze student newspaper, and has always wanted to dip her toes into magazine production.

Digital Editor

Jessica Kronzer

Traci Rasdorf

Executive Editor

Managing Editor

Mina is a senior Media Arts & Design major with minors in Film Studies and Asian Studies. Being able to work with others to design and create something new or innovative is something she loves. Mina also loves cooking meals and buying way too many candles from her local Target.

Jessica is a third-year student majoring in Media Arts & Design and minoring in political communications. She reports the news for the SMAD department’s website. When she’s not writing, Jessica spends her time as the Director of New Members for her sorority, Delta Gamma and enjoys dancing as a member of the Dancing Dukes.

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refugee center Church World Service provides comfort to new members of the community

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valley comedy Dawn Womack describes what being a comedian in the Valley means to her

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creating change Sabrina Dorman-Andrew opens business to provide security for victims of human trafficking

contents

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boho business Mike Harlow keeps vintage clothing store open despite slow days during the coronavirus

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food & facebook Chef Adrian Taylor promotes food positivity through live demonstrations and social media platform

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coronavirus

Local historian and small business owners reflect on the impact of the pandemic on Downtown Harrisonburg

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the valley’s palace Owners of a 108-year-old building share its history

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story by MORGAN PHILLIPS photos by TRISTAN LOREI

t the top of Afton Mountain and just off Interstate 64, Swannanoa Palace stands shrouded by tall pine trees and “No Trespassing” signs. The marble walls and red terracotta roof transports visitors to a different time — and far from Virginia. This may be why the property has been such a peculiar site to visitors, both locals and those who have traveled to see Swannanoa.

Built in 1912, the mansion once had clear views to the surrounding counties of Augusta, Nelson and Albemarle. The trees now mostly cover this view of the nearby mountain ranges, though there are some gaps because of an ice storm in 2017.

Through the years and changes of ownership, the original fanciful architecture slowly became neglected and expensive to fix. As the trees surrounding the palace slowly grew taller, so did its disrepair.

James Dooley, the wealthy son of Irish immigrants, built the mansion to lavish his wife, Sallie Mae Dooley. This gesture helped to ease tensions between the two families, as James was Irish and Sallie Mae’s English father disapproved of their marriage. He even installed an elevator for Sallie Mae, who wasn’t in good health, and came to Swannanoa from May to September to enjoy the warmer weather.

Sandi Dulaney is the Director of Events at Swannanoa and wife of Phil James Fillmore Dulaney Jr. Her husband’s father purchased the property in 1944 and named the company Skyline Swannanoa, which was passed down to Phil as part of the family business.

Sandi and her husband lived on the grounds of Swannanoa from 1998 to 2000 on the weekends

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only, and then full time from 2001 to 2005. During that time, the couple spearheaded many construction efforts to the property such as repairing roofing tiles, regrouting marble on the chimneys and repainting the rooms to their original colors. Sandi ended up moving out after a harsh winter at the property.

“I told my husband, ‘I’m leaving you,’” Sandi said laughing.

During a tour, Sandi and her dog, Lady, wandered comfortably from room to room in the mansion as Sandi pointed out details of the architecture and history, including how the Dooley family built the palace. Currently, only the first floor and a few bedrooms upstairs are open for tours.

After the Dooleys died in the mid 1920s, the property was left to James’ sisters who couldn’t afford to keep up with the expenses. They sold the property to a group of businessmen from Richmond who turned Swannanoa into a country club. In 1928, President Calvin Coolidge and his family spent Thanksgiving at Swannanoa, where he shot skeet in the garden behind the property.

Sandi said that Sallie Mae adored her gardens.

“She would have been rolling over in her grave with this guy,” Sandi said of President Coolidge.

Though trespassers have vandalized the palace, the stained glass window remains untouched.

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The country club had added a golf course with plans of installing a swimming pool, but just around that time, the Great Depression hit. The country club went bankrupt, and Swannanoa lay vacant for 12 years until 1944.

“During that time, the old locals from Waynesboro said their parents would drive them up here, and they would roller skate inside, and people started pilfering things,” Sandi said.

The property has long been victim to trespassing and vandalism. Though it’s open from May to November on select weekends for tours, many disregard this and try to visit the property on their own. Sandi explained she’s caught trespassers and even those who have stolen from the property. She’s taken offenders to court in some instances.

She said she felt as if justice hadn’t really been served to the vandalizer.

“And I’m thinking, ‘Who are they representing [of the court] — this guy who stole or us?’ You know? It was interesting.”

The most striking part of the mansion is the Tiffany stained glass window above the red carpeted staircase. Remarkably, it’s remained untouched over the years and is now protected with bulletproof glass.

“We think she was protected because people thought

she was Christ,” Sandi said.

The glass actually depicts Sallie Mae wearing a long white gown and surrounded by her garden. From the front windows however, one can only see the bottom of the stained glass, which does seem to have a Christ-like resemblance.

In 1948, Lao and Walter Russel began renting the property month to month. Both artists, the couple founded the University of Science and Philosophy, a home-study university focusing on the science of man. In the course of the couple’s time living in Swannanoa, they changed some of the interior of the bedrooms upstairs to bright, eclectic colors. Lao was 33 years younger than her husband, and she died in 1988.

The board of directors of the University of Science and Philosophy continued to rent the property until 1998 when the Dulaneys who were renting the property out to the Russels took full ownership again. Then, Phil began to work on restoring Swannanoa.

Swannanoa is now used for events and tours from May to November. Weddings and photo shoots are popular, as well as some seasonal events.

“We’ll rent it out for just about everything,” Sandi said.

Nicki Dydak was married at Swannanoa in October of 2019. She was drawn to the property because of its aesthetic

and almost “abandoned-looking” feel.

“I started to read about how it was built as a love token from husband to wife, and there’s this massive stained glass window of the lady of the house,” Dydak said.

Originally from Williamsburg and currently living in Richmond, Dydak and her husband had their ceremony on the staircase in front of the window depicting Sallie Mae. “The pictures were phenomenal,” Dydak said. “Every little piece of that house looks like something out of a fairy tale, so you can lean on a crumbling column or sit on the staircase.

I mean, even standing in front of the front doors makes for lovely pictures.”

The property, though in need of repair, has been in the Dulaney family since 1944. Phil expressed his loyalty to the work the family has to fix it and how they don’t expect that to change anytime soon.

“That’s the way I was raised,” Phil said. “I’m 69 now, and it could go out of the family at some point, but I hope to live another 20 years.”

Sandi said she hopes Swannanoa can one day be fully restored to its original glory.

“It’s a bygone era of these wealthy mansions before there was income tax,” Sandi said. “And, it’s so splendid to see because it looks like something that should be in Italy.”

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resettled

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story by JAZMINE OTEY photos courtesy of CHURCH WORLD SERVICE

In 2016, Iraqi citizens experienced a period of relentless violence as thousands of civilians, as reported by the United Nations Assistance Mission for Iraq, were murdered by fighters from the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, also known as ISIS. Arsalan Syan, a mechanic engineer at the time, feared for his and his family’s safety. That year, they traveled to the U.S. and were resettled by the Church World Service in Harrisonburg, a refugee resettlement center.

Upon his arrival, he and his family were welcomed by a new home fully furnished with beds, cooking ware and clothes for each member. Their finances were also paid in full for the first month. As the family members studied their new home, the inviting smell of a hot meal prepared for them by a CWS volunteer coursed through the air.

Just four years later, Syan now works as an Arabic-speaking caseworker at CWS, treating other refugees with the same hospitality and acts of encouragement given to him during his time of need.

“That was my dream, to help people,” Syan said.

“I’ve always been very active in helping people because my father was very, very helpful to people. Our house was open for people coming from the village. They would stay with us for, like, two or three nights.”

Syan is responsible for helping new arrivals with housing, employment and finding their place in the community.

“I think it’s sacred work,” Susannah Lepley, the Virginia CWS director for Harrisonburg’s office, said. “We are called to work with the most vulnerable people in the world.”

CWS originated following the turmoil of World War II when refugees came in boats to New York City looking for sanctuary. When they arrived, there was a man looking for individuals in need of help resettling in the United States. If they agreed, he proceeded to call churches throughout the U.S. asking if they could support a family of five. If church members could offer assistance, he put the refugees on a train and sent them to their new home.

Within one year of its origin, CWS donated more than 11 million pounds of food, clothing and medical supplies to war-torn Asia and Europe. In 1976, CWS established various refugee resettlement offices throughout the U.S. 12 years later, a CWS office was established in Harrisonburg, Virginia, a city of more than 75 languages, according to the Daily News-Record.

Since its origin more than 70 years ago, CWS has helped resettle nearly half a million refugees by providing clients with furnished housing, food, clothing and assistance with employment and other areas necessary in their resettlement process.

The office is notified roughly two weeks before a

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client’s arrival in terms of what a refugee family needs to get on its feet once they’re in the U.S. Within the first five days of their arrival, CWS is responsible for providing a refugee intake to process a client’s needs. During this period, CWS can help a client register their children in school and apply for their Social Security Cards, benefits such as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, health screenings and other health programs.

Through government funding, the organization also provides $975 per family member as a means of financial assistance during their first month.

CWS tries to ensure clients are culturally integrated as well through a four week cultural orientation class. The class meets three times a week and consists of English lessons, field trips

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downtown to explore the community and learning more about American culture.

“I will always be happy to help people, and this is a good opportunity because CWS is always helping people, especially new refugees,” Syan said. “We provide a lot of services to make them understand self-sufficiency and [how to] be successful.”

But while CWS provides refugees with ample resources for resettlement, Lepley said, clients are net positive. Despite the negative press surrounding refugees and immigrants, she said, they often help lower unemployment rates and make Harrisonburg more diverse.

“You don’t need to go to the Democratic Republic of Congo to meet people and experience a new culture for yourself and your children. You can do it right here in

Harrisonburg,” she said. “It’s pretty remarkable that my children can become bilingual and have friends from Iraq and friends from DRC and friends from Ukraine.”

Rodrigue Makelele, a French- and Swahili-speaking caseworker, is in charge of ensuring that newcomers are provided with CWS’s core services.

Makelele emphasized the terror and dismay that a refugee can often experience when fleeing from their country in search of safety.

“A former refugee told me that the first shock that he got was when he got to the refugee camp,” he said. “They gave him a machete and a cover, and they said you have to find yourself a house.”

He further explained that this alone traumatized the refugee, given he’d fled from

his own home in search of sanctuary just to be told that he’d have to use a machete and wood to build a new house for him and his family.

The three staff members agree that despite the negative stereotypes of immigrants and refugees, they make up an important segment of the Harrisonburg community.

“I think this refugees program is one of the programs that brings a lot of change because it changes the population in terms of understanding and living with different people and having a different experience, both in languages but also about gifts that everybody brings to the community,” Makelele said. “As a peace builder I think allowing people to move somewhere where they’re safe, can live peacefully and have dreams is very important.”

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story by CARLI WOODYEAR photo courtesy of TOM PEARCE

barbershop bops

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he mustachioed, gray-haired men spring to attention at the bark of a pitch pipe. It’s a Monday, just like any other. Their plastic chairs slide back in unison as they leap from them — aging knees be damned — to hurry into position in the center of the old Providence Baptist Church on Erickson Avenue.

It’s time for barbershop.

The fluorescent lights bounce off their balding heads as they take their first collective breath. They sing for two hours on and off — it used to be three, when they had more members — and crack jokes about each other and themselves. Their voices, both high and low, spread warmth onto the sterile, white walls of the church’s kitchen.

Each time they lower themselves back into their plastic folding chairs, the 10 men sit in a half-moon around nothing, tapping their feet, waiting in anticipation for their leader, Tom Pearce, to sound the pipe again.

He does. Shoes squeak on the linoleum floors to the tune of the 1956 classic “In the Still of the Night.” This one involves some light choreography.

“Stop moving like that,” one gentleman with a full head of long hair whispers to the tall fellow next to him.

“Just stay still.”

Their moves are subtle and meaningful, and when they sing, their voices sound like a special program on an old recorder, complete with a 1940s transatlantic accent.

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Hearing it is like climbing into a time capsule: Their sound blows a dent in the present, suspends it and then rewinds the listeners, who sit on the edges of their seats. Suddenly, it’s a Sunday in the backseat of Dad’s car — a convertible without seatbelts, of course — and he’s singing Sinatra on the way to McDonald’s after sitting through the weekly service. It’s undeniably nostalgic and American. The macho, spry men singing it remember it that way, too.

The two hours pass too quickly for them, and before they know it, they’re shuffling out the door.

They don’t stick around and talk for long. It’s late, almost nine o’clock, and everyone has a bed at home waiting for them.

The Harmonizers meet this way every week to honor an antiquated tradition, one built on male camaraderie, cadence and culture. Barbershop has been a community for many gentlemen, a sport for men who are too old for running, too talented for singing alone, or who have too much time and no place to spend it.

Now, they spend much of it in rehearsals, performances and competitions. The group is solidly booked from December to February for the holiday season. It takes quite a time commitment to be this successful, but luckily, most of the members are retired.

For that majority, the songs come easy. They’ve memorized them, as per barbershop expectations, and

the older songs prove forgiving material for finding melody and harmonies.

Their favorite piece, “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” from 1910, is a staple for the Harmonizers, and they sing it to embarrassed, yet flattered, ladies every Valentine’s Day upon husbands’ requests.

Can’t find it on the radio? Forget it. It’s older than that. The only thing that sounds even close to it is that dusty Victrola in one’s attic, the one no one’s gotten around to fixing up. The difference between the album and the performance is that these men breathe and wear suits. They bring life to forgotten notes.

That is, until now.

20 years ago, Pearce thought they’d last forever.

After 25 years of singing barbershop, the chapter’s leader suspects it’ll all end with him. He’s not the only one with concerns.

The Barbershop Harmony Society, a national program that encompasses local chapters, has been competing against the years as fewer and fewer new voices join. They’re hoping to shake off the wrinkling face of barbershop by allowing new groups to sing modern numbers at competitions. So far, it’s helped, in the larger chapters, at least.

The Harrisonburg Harmonizers are a smaller group, though. There’s 10 of them, with the oldest member at 85. Pearce isn’t far behind. He’s worried about the club’s legacy, the future of barbershop, time.

He watches as his contemporaries die, the numbers

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dwindling down each day. On his walks, he thinks about his age and the messy order of dying.

“You reach an age, and it’s over,” he said with a sigh. “But, then, someone else takes your place.”

He fears that barbershop might be different, that no one’s going to step up to take his place, that generations will dissolve it into nothing. That all the brotherhood, memories, years, joy will fade into a quiet obsolescence.

The addictive quality of barbershop begs to differ. The youngest member the chapter’s ever had is 26, and though his age made him an outlier, Josh Tennant became the exception to a not-so-hard, not-so-fast rule.

According to Brian Lynch, the Public Relations Manager of the Barbershop Harmony Society, the music of barbershop has been evolving, and so have the faces. The society isn’t just including younger

The Harrisonburg Harmonizers perform at a Barbershop Harmony Society competition.

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singers but women as well, and some of them are leading chapters. The unusual is becoming expected, and songs at competition are getting hipper and hipper every season.

“We want everyone in harmony, we don’t care if singers are tall, short, rich, poor, man, woman, intersex — it’s all love,” Lynch said.

The local Harrisonburg chapter is trying to keep up as Pearce struggles to find the balance between tradition and opportunity. But, finding it won’t make change any easier.

The formula is being replaced, but Tennant is optimistic the institution is sticking around, even in Harrisonburg. For him, the art is about the chords, “the way they ring when the harmony hits their notes just right.” He said that feeling, that sound, is what makes barbershop timeless. Even though time may be the one thing they’re still running from.

brews of the ’burg story by MICHAEL BECHTOLD photo courtesy of SHAWN GATESMAN

From basement bars to large ale houses, Harrisonburg may just house it all. Many local breweries are home to their own interesting flavors made in house. If one’s not sure what they may like the most, they can check out these local hot spots that have a little bit of everything on tap to dive into.

The Friendly Fermenter

Pale Fire Brewery

Capital Ale House

On the corner of South Mason Street and East Market Street in Downtown Harrisonburg, one will find The Friendly Fermenter. Its beers are all original, housing only beers that it creates, which currently tallies up to about 120 different ones. The small brewery makes batches of beer that go right from the keg to a glass without packaging to give it more of a fresh taste.

“You can have a beer you really like one summer and come back the next, and it most likely won’t be there again because we struggle to remake popular beers every two months, especially when they go very fast,” Shawn Gatesman, the head brewer, said.

The most popular beer The Friendly Fermenter produces, The Bees Knees, is a sweet honey double IPA. Customer favorites, Gatesman said, include Brehfuss, a blonde coffee stout, and Golden Hoppurtunity, a hoppy New England style double IPA. As the brewery’s crew strives for consistent friendly customer service, it lives up to its motto — “It’s all in what you want.”

“We have different beers on tap all the time, and our own ideas and creations are always put before the business side of the brewery,” Gatesman said.

Inside a room divided in half by saint cylinder fermenters and a small lounge bar, Pale Fire Brewing Company houses original crafts produced right in front of customers. It has 10 to 11 drafts on tap at a time that are interchanged depending on the day, leaving consumers surprised when finding out what’s on tap at any given time.

Its top selling beer is its Arrant IPA, which is trendy among people who may like hoppy beers. Other top favorites include Red Molly Irish Red Ale, which is sweeter and may appeal more to people who don’t necessarily like IPA’s, and Deadly Rhythm, which is a mix between the two.

The brewery creates seasonal batches of different beers, with a wide spectrum of tastes for beer connoisseurs and beginners.

According to Susan Keeler, the tap room manager, “Having glass that divides its consumers makes Pale Fire stand out,” because it may be appealing to their eyes and allow consumers to see where their drink is coming from and take interest in the process.

Capital Ale House, located in Court Square of Downtown Harrisonburg, takes different beers from breweries in the area and showcases them on tap in its restaurant.

The brewery houses 100 drafts, so there’s always an option to quench one’s taste buds.

Its top-selling beer across the board at all of its locations is Devil’s Backbone Vienna Lager, General Manager Jaime Reese said.

“It’s a perfect beer because it’s not light, not dark, somewhere in the middle, has a very multi-profile flavor, too, but not heavy on the palette — just a very easy drinkable beer,” Reese said.

Other popular drinks include its ciders, such as Bold Rock, Pale Fire and Brothers Craft brews. The most interesting beer the brewery produces, Reese said, is a White Chocolate covered Pretzel Beer that mixes a popular dessert taste with alcohol. It also has a collection of fruity and sour beers.

Capital Ale House holds more beers than other breweries in Harrisonburg, according to Reese, and most of them are local to Virginia. Its open restaurant-style is all about what’s best for the customer, he said, making it a satisfying option for anyone looking for a quick drink or a night of tastings.

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transformative empowerment story by JESSICA KRONZER photos courtesy of KEZ WILGUS

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aren McIntyre presses her palm onto the pole and wraps her fingers in a tight grip. Up on the balls of her feet, she steps close to the pole. Leaning her hips away, her center of gravity is on the pole.

She takes a few cat-like steps, tucks her outside foot around the pole and spins while bending her back-leg into a “criss-cross applesauce” position.

McIntyre, the owner of Pink Ambition, a pole dancing studio in Harrisonburg, teaches the fireman’s spin to students in her pole one class.

“There’s a smile the first time they really get the spin and they understand how, like, leaning back will help centrifugal force pick you up,” McIntyre said.

“It’s a visual representation of self love. That is incredible to see.”

“my balance” In October of 2014, the place where McIntyre taught pole dancing announced it was closing.

Her students’ suggestion that she open a studio was originally something she laughed off.

Later that month, McIntyre had a change of heart and decided to take their advice. After struggling to find a space that would rent to a pole dancing studio, she found a spot in Downtown Harrisonburg in December. Pink Ambition opened just a few weeks later in January 2015. “[Opening the studio] was part to teach pole, but also a large part to help share the healing powers the

pole has and then the community that it creates,” McIntyre said. “I just felt like we needed that here ... and no one else was doing it — so I did.”

“transformation” McIntyre stumbled upon pole dancing when she was 24. A friend’s mom wanted to attend an “exotic dance” class but had no one to go with her. McIntyre and some friends attended the class, and the instructor suggested she try pole dancing.

From there, McIntyre signed up for an eight-week course and traveled to Charlottesville, Virginia with her friends to dance. By the end of the course, she’d installed a pole in her home. She said the artform allowed her to tap into her cheerleading background while managing her eating disorder.

“Pole has helped me with that in the way that I look at myself, the confidence that I have [and] the way that I look at my body,” McIntyre said.

She’s also used “pole” to cope with her history of sexual abuse.

“This is a space where you can, kind of, reclaim that sexuality and get to know it again and just renew your own identity, really, that had been taken away by that assault or that abuse,” McIntyre said. “I really wanted a place to be able to share that with other women and to be able to help other women.”

One of McIntyre’s students felt she couldn’t wear short sleeve shirts because of the way her body looked,

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but in the studio, she felt comfortable wearing a sports bra. The student’s “mental change” when she entered the studio brought McIntyre to tears.

“the founders of pole” A Facebook video of McIntyre dancing prompted a comment from one viewer.

“I never saw this as a form of art,” a man said. “‘Oh my god, it’s so amazing,’” McIntyre thought. “‘Like, that just honors me that he’s never seen it as art, and now he does.’”

After she thanked the man for his kind words, he “replied with a snarky comment” that explained he didn’t mean to compliment pole dancing.

McIntyre responded again to explain that pole is art and how she hoped he’d “open his eyes and see other possible aspects of something like pole dancing.”

The man was moved by her argument and said that he now understood the artistic side of it.

“In that one instance, I was able to take someone that was very negative … and actually change their mind … and change their perception about what pole is,” McIntyre said. “But I’ve learned over the years, it’s not worth it if people are really intent on believing their negative stereotypes about pole.”

As far as the association between stripping and pole dancing goes, McIntyre reiterated that strippers deserve respect and that many people who attend strip clubs are seeking “human interaction” they might not get elsewhere.

“I personally think that strippers are amazing, and they are the founders of pole, and we wouldn’t be here without them, and they’re just human beings doing a job,” McIntyre said.

“pole one” Taffy and bubblegum stripes line the room that was once painted dark shades. A mirror takes up the entirety of one wall. A panel veils the space from the glass window and, in turn, the streets of the Harrisonburg outside. Six poles, half competition

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and half standard, line the room.

Beyoncé’s 2008 hit, “Single Ladies,” pumps through the speaker.

“Feel free to sing along,” McIntyre said.

Pink Ambition offers seven levels of classes in pole dancing. “Pole one” consists of a warm-up and a descriptive lesson by McIntyre, who takes dancers through each movement step-by-step and checks on each participant regularly.

High-fives are passed around, and McIntyre “signs off” on what moves dancers have mastered.

After a dancer learns certain moves, she can progress to “pole two.”

Some students in higher level classes come back to “pole one” to share encouragement with participants who may have never touched a pole before.

“We are taking our clothes off and showing each other our biggest vulnerabilities, and everybody is just showing love,” Julianna Jones, an instructor at the studio, said.

Jones attended a “pole one” class with a student who’s now performed in the studio’s recitals and competitions. Jones explained that the student lost weight through pole dancing and her confidence has risen.

“She’s changed so much as an individual, and I don’t know anything about her outside life, but in here, she has blossomed,” Jones said. “It’s just amazing to see those transformations.”

“community” The hot pink “women only” sign that hangs on the studio’s door has caused some pushback from men who feel the rule is unfair. Jones explained that the concept is rooted in McIntyre’s belief that it should be a space for women by women.

“Women are getting sexually harassed all the time, everywhere, no matter what they’re doing, no matter how they’re dressed,” Jones said. “This is a place where you’re able to feel vulnerable, and for some people, just having a man in the space is intimidating.”

In the summer of 2018, Kez Wilgus was looking for a “safe place to work out” after being harassed at JMU’s University Recreation Center, she said, on multiple occasions. That June, she took her first pole class and signed up for a Pink Ambition membership. She stayed for two more classes that night and signed up for every class she could take that week.

Now, Wilgus takes at least one class at the studio four or five days a week.

She performed a freestyle routine in eight-inch heels to the song “Sympathy for the Devil” in the recent showcase.

According to Wilgus, McIntyre is often referred to as “Mom” around the studio.

“She knows where your boundaries are, where your comfort is, and she’s not afraid to call you out on that or catch you when you fall,” Wilgus said.

McIntyre maintains that her studio is a supportive community. When her father had heart issues that led to a sudden triple bypass surgery, her staff took over some of her classes and administrative responsibilities.

“a force of nature” McIntyre has worked full-time and part-time jobs while running the studio. She said she lives for moments when students discover they have muscles or when she simply provides a space for students to escape the world for a few hours.

“Karen is a force of nature,” Jones said. “She’s so passionate about pole, and as much as it takes out of her being a business owner, the bigger picture of her is to serve her community, to serve the women in the area [and] to provide a space that will help women heal.”

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a comedian in the valley story by MINA JOHNSON photo courtesy of DAWN WOMACK

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A

dirty black-and-white awning sat perched next to a set of black double-paned windows. Sheets hung from inside the glass, obscuring the view. Above it, a red, blue and white neon sign illuminated the brick-paved sidewalk. It read: “Electric Maid Community Exchange” The Washington, D.C., community center sat comfortably between a funeral home and a church. But inside, a comedy show had just begun.

A low rumble of voices grew as people began to trickle in to find a place to sit.

Folding chairs and couches surrounded the front, while spotlights hung from the ceiling, and speakers lined the floor. A single microphone stood alone on the stage.

Dawn Womack sat in the audience along with her husband, Chris. She waited patiently as other comedians in her class took the stage one by one. This was her first comedy set — eight minutes of rehearsed jokes waiting to be told. Her emotions swung like a pendulum. “‘Are you crazy?’” she thought. “‘You can’t do this.’” Then, “‘Yes, you can.’”

As part of her New Year’s resolutions, Womack asked herself in December 2015 what the one thing was that would scare her the most.

“First thing that came to mind is standup,” she said.

A few months later, in February, she found Stand-Up Studios, a school in Washington, D.C., that teaches standup comedy lessons. In November, she signed up for classes.

“I kept putting it off and not committing,” Womack said. “I walked in the first day of class and almost walked out.”

Once a week for five weeks, Womack made the two-and-a-half-hour commute from Harrisonburg. In December, for a final grade, the class was to perform their own comedy set.

“The only way to face your fears is to walk through them,” Womack said. “The worst thing that could happen is I check it off the box and keep moving forward.”

The audience clapped as Womack’s introduction sounded through the speakers. She walked toward centerstage, removing the microphone from the stand to hold.

“Thank you for the applause,” she began. “I appreciate that as a comic virgin.”

The audience laughed. Womack’s first audience laugh, at that.

She pushed her brown hair behind her ear and laughed along with the audience. Chris, a kinesiology professor at JMU, sat in the crowd as he filmed her performance.

“For a while, my husband would be really nervous for me,” Womack explained. “He’s actually written some of my punchlines that land every time.”

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Womack’s son, 26-year-old Landon Turner, has attended some of her local shows.

“She’s always been that boisterous, fun-loving, laughing lady,” Turner said. “It brings me a lot of joy to see her get out there and just live.”

After Womack finished her set and sat down, the audience applauded her.

“I did it,” she thought.

As the show concluded, people from the audience approached Womack to tell her how much they enjoyed her set.

“Even though I was freaking out on the inside, I love to make people laugh,” she said.

In March 2018, only 15 months after her first set, Womack co-founded her comedy business: X2 Comedy.

She and her co-founder, Steve McClay, spent several weeks choosing a suitable name.

“We had 20 or so different names, and none of them really resonated with us,” Womack said.

Finally, they decided on one.

“How about we call it X2 because it’s me and you?”

McClay suggested.

“It is just me and you,” Womack agreed. “The comedians on the stage, and the audience that came; it’s a community.”

Womack said the biggest challenge in her comedy career was figuring out how to do big show business from Harrisonburg.

“When you live in a small college town, it can be difficult,” Womack explained. “Open mics aren’t readily available.”

X2 Comedy keeps its shows PG-13 while featuring

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up-and-coming comedians to give them more opportunities to perform.

“My number one goal is to put together a great show for the audience,” Womack said.

Despite the success she’s had with X2, Womack’s journey hasn’t always been smooth sailing. Three days before her freshman year of college at West Virginia University, Womack’s father fell 20 feet and landed on his head.

“That was a tough day,” Womack said.

Her father remained in a coma for eight months before he died. Even so, Womack said she still maintains an optimistic outlook.

“Life comes with lots of happiness, but also pain and sorrow,” Womack said. “If we didn’t have comedy, it would be hard to come back from the down.”

Comedy has given Womack more opportunities for projects, she said, and increased her confidence. If someone told her she’d be where she is today in her career, she said she wouldn’t have believed them.

“I would have told you you were on crack cocaine,” Womack joked.

In the future, Womack said she’d love to perform on late-night television.

“It scares the bejesus out of me,” Womack said.

She also plans on performing a set this upcoming summer at The Carolina Club, a golf club in North Carolina.

“When we can crack a smile, we can feel happy again,” Womack said. “When we can laugh about it, we don’t feel alone anymore.”

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live to cycle story by MITCHELL SASSER photo courtesy of BURKE SAUNDERS

It’s a part of the adrenaline rush.

Speeding down a hill, she doesn’t know if there’s going to be an obstacle. She has to turn her brain on, think and be prepared.

That’s how Lindsey Carpenter, born and raised in Harrisonburg, Virginia, by cyclist parents, described her passion for mountain biking. Carpenter started in her junior year of high school on the SHEN-ROCK team, an interscholastic youth mountain bike group.

“Since I’ve graduated from college, I have been really motivated to do jobs and careers that center me around being able to ride and bettering riding in other areas and our area,” Carpenter said.

With Shenandoah National Park and George Washington National Forest so close, Carpenter credits being raised in Harrisonburg as a reason for her love of the outdoors and being in nature through mountain biking.

“It’s so conveniently located — every direction you go, you get to a different national area,” Carpenter said. “From a young age, it was vast. We were always outside.”

Carpenter is a trail specialist at Dirt Artisans, which specializes in designing and building trails. She helps by clearing corridors, chunking rocks and 28|

building wooden bridges for other bikers to enjoy.

“It gets you back to nature because you have to get in survival mode sometimes,” Carpenter said. “If it’s cold, you have to keep moving, and you have to eat.

You have to think about if you get hurt, how do you get out? That is, kind of, the exciting element — it’s wild, and the danger factor is cool, but it makes sure you have to be smart, conscious and aware.”

The Tour De Burg is a five-day race created by Carpenter’s father, Mike Carpenter. There are four days of mountain biking with a road biking day in the middle.

Lindsey said the Harrisonburg community opens its doors to out-of-towners, and 50 people usually compete. During the weeks prior to the race, she said that in preparation, bikers have to keep riding to make sure they’ll be capable of riding five to 10 hours for five days in a row.

“It’s five of the hardest rides in Harrisonburg in a row in the dead of summer, and it’s a race — but it’s super fun,” Lindsey said. “You have to know you’re going to suffer, and it’s going to be really hard and that you’re going to want to quit.”

Ellen Kasiske has also competed in the Tour De Burg. When she was a transfer student in her first

semester at JMU, Kasiske visited the cycling club booth at Student Organization Night. From there, she said she was plugged into the world of cycling and continues mountain biking as a passion today.

“It has been absolutely amazing,” Kasiske said.

“And it’s not even just the mountain bike — it’s road bikers, people just in the community who ride. Just putting yourself out there and going on one ride, you’ll meet tons of people that will pull you in.”

16-year-old Harrisonburg High School student Miriam Velker quit every sport she played when she started mountain biking at age 11. Velker credits the Harrisonburg mountain biking community for showing her how to love the sport, too.

Velker participates in 10-12 competitions in a season and has gone to Mountain Bike Nationals the past two years. At a race in Stokesville, Virginia, Velker became upset that she didn’t place as well as she’d hoped.

“The next race I came into, I, kind of, dropped

all of my training regimen — my goal was to end the race with a smile,” Velker said. “I ended up having the best race of my life, winning it and getting a bunch of personal records because of my mindset.”

Lindsey visits and assists the SHEN-ROCK team, too. Velker said that while some professionals in Harrisonburg are focused on themselves, their training regiment and how they perform, Lindsey is still willing to be there for others and teach the skills necessary to be a mountain biker.

“My whole team when I started mountain biking was all boys,” Velker said. “I was the youngest and only girl. I think [Lindsey] really showed me that girls can do stuff just as crazy as guys can. It switched my mindset and taught me that there is so much more of my capability I can do because of her.”

Lindsey said she’s not positive about what she’ll be doing in the next five to 10 years, but there’s one thing she’s sure of.

She’ll still be “living that mountain bike lifestyle.”

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local heart

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global mind The founders of New Creation create a safe space for human

trafficking victims to raise awarness about a universal issue

S

abrina Dorman-Andrew’s blueberry-colored office contains an accent wall the shade of daffodils that reads “Do more than just exist.” She sits up in her leathery rolly-chair, her midi-sleeved turtleneck reveals bits of the tattoos on her forearms as she talks. One depicts a flock of “freedom” birds flying. Another is a phrase in Arabic, which, she explains, was written on the wall when her store opened. Translated, it means, “Jesus loves you.”

Her wide maxi-skirt drags on the ground. The bright pattern of tangerine flowers, cherry leaves and teal peacocks peeping through reflects off the light coming in from the window. The skirt was made by Leah, a sex trafficking victim.

Dorman-Andrew sells products like these and donates 100 percent of the profits to her nonprofit, New Creation, which helps to provide jobs for human trafficking victims. All of the products in the store are made by trafficking victims or women at risk of being trafficked.

Downstairs, the airy space is full of books, jewelry, clothes and hope for the fight against human trafficking. The business previously using the building sold pornography just a few years prior to New Creation opening its storefront.

New Creation was founded in 2012 by Dorman-Andrew and her husband, Steven. Sabrina’s friend asked her to sell jewelry that was made by sex trafficking victims in Uganda, so they sold jewelry out of their dining room. When customers started asking the couple about trafficking, they learned the issue hit much closer to home than they expected.

Sabrina often recalls being in third grade and learning about slavery. She wondered about what she’d have done if she were alive during the Civil War. As she learned about modern day sex trafficking, it took her back to those curiosities of what side of history she’d be on.

story and photos by JESSICA KRONZER

“‘We’re facing one of the biggest social crises in history,’” Sabrina thought. “‘And, I want to be on the side of justice.’”

According to its website, New Creation works with 50 organizations on five continents to empower sex trafficking victims. For survivors in Moldova, Uganda and India, New Creation is their only main source of income. Sabrina, her daughter and some of her staff traveled to Moldova in March to work on designs with survivors.

Sabrina and her husband poured their savings into starting New Creation. Since she had no experience in nonprofit work, her church helped her fill out paperwork, like the 501-C, to open her organization.

Steven covers shifts, shipping, processes inventory and handles donor relations. Sabrina’s focus is on educating the community about sex trafficking and assisting local police departments.

Sometimes after giving presentations, attendees come up to Sabrina to share that they’d been trafficked without realizing it. Despite “Hollywood” portrayals, Sabrina said, people are often trafficked by someone they know.

Through a partnership with the Richmond Justice Initiative, Sabrina said she’s helped teach 5,000 kids in middle and high schools about the culture that lays the “groundwork” for sex trafficking.

By Sabrina’s estimates, at the start of her presentation, 80 percent of the students vote that there isn’t sex trafficking in their area, and afterward, almost every student agrees that the problem exists where they live.

As a survivor of early childhood sexual abuse — a risk factor for becoming a victim of sex trafficking — the issue was personal for Sabrina. Years ago, while watching her daughters’ basketball game, Sabrina thought about how her and her

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husband’s two daughters, both under the age of 10, were two years younger than the average age of sex trafficking victims.

Previously, Sabrina worked full time at a corporate company while juggling opening New Creation. After buying the property in 2014, she quit that job, leaving her benefits behind. She said it was worth the risk to follow her passion.

When Sabrina came to her husband with

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the idea to renovate an old porn shop, he was unsure. Steven grew up in the area and said it went from a Looney Toons’ putt-putt golf course to a place to get tarot cards read before being turned into a porn shop. The most recent owners had painted the building in a “gaudy” hot pink trim. Inside, the walls, floors and toilet were painted to match.

The couple bought the property at an auction without being allowed to look inside,

despite its poor shape and location outside of the shopping district. Steven and a group of volunteers took 14 months to renovate it.

“I just believe there’s, like, such power and redemption in taking something that was bad and flipping it and using it for good,” Sabrina said.

When it first opened, some patrons came in looking to purchase pornography. Sabrina and her volunteers took those moments to explain their mission and the link between the porn industry and trafficking.

One woman came to the shop and told Sabrina she’d bought drugs in the building and that “really bad things happened” to her there. The store made her anxious to drive by on her commute to work. She asked if she could come in to “make new memories” that might help her cope with her fear.

Sabrina welcomed her in.

The next morning, Sabrina came downstairs to find the woman sitting in a chair in the corner of her store.

“Yesterday, I was scared to come by,” the woman told Sabrina, as she recalled. “Today, this is a place of peace for me.”

“How cool was it that we could take somewhere that was so harmful and, because of our heart for our community, make it a place to feel safe and comforting?” Sabrina said.

Sabrina also works as a “court advocate” for sex trafficking victims. She said she’s often there to hold someone’s hand and to be a good friend by acting as “liaison” between law enforcement and the survivor, a relationship that can be complicated, especially if the officer is male.

Steven acts as a “safe male presence” in a room full of 25 female volunteers. One JMU student told Sabrina that Steven was the only male authority in her life who hadn’t been inappropriate with her.

Working at New Creation opened Steven’s eyes to how pornography isn’t “a victimless industry,” which has allowed him to share about his experiences with other men.

“It has changed my own thought processes, fortunately, helped me to learn and understand improper thinking of my own that needed to change,” Steven said. “It’s helped me to be a better father, and it’s helped me to be a better husband.”

Sabrina said she tries to focus on how to meet the tangible needs of survivors. One woman Sabrina worked with was brought to the valley and sold. She didn’t want Sabrina’s help

initially because she felt there was no hope for her.

During her trial, Sarbina learned that the woman wanted to become a nurse; New Creation funded her tuition for her first year of nursing school.

“By the time I stopped working with her, she made a plan, set goals, was in position to get her RN, had hope and believed in herself and had found her own voice,” Sabrina said. “I didn’t give her a voice. I just stood with her and believed in her.”

Though it’s been eight years since New Creation opened, Sabrina still has to work to cope with the stories she hears from her work.

“The things that I hear, you can’t unhear,” Sabrina said.

“I can’t unsee the things, and it’s hard when it’s in your community. And, I don’t, I don’t want other people to be exposed to it either. It’s secondhand trauma.”

Sabrina has a number of friends she calls when she needs to cry.

“I can’t go into details,” she tells a friend. “Can you pray for me? I’ve really had a hard day.”

Besides seeing a counselor, Sabrina has a checklist of activities she tries to get done each month to step away from work: a monthly pedicure, a lunch date with a friend and a day to “get away.”

Christina Swecker is the volunteer coordinator and shop manager. She’d worked with New Creation since its founding. Swecker described Sabrina as “goal-oriented” and someone who “delegates tasks” to match people’s personalities.

“Her heart is 100% always thinking about other people and what, what she can do to make a difference in the lives of other people, how she can help them [and] how she can serve them,” Swecker said.

Steven calls Sabrina a “powerhouse of a woman” that he’s proud to be married to. Sabrina said she hopes to remind people, especially girls, that one person can make a difference.

“It’s probably shattered me and put me back together is the best way that I can explain it,” Sabrina said. “It’s really hard for it to not just break your heart, cause you to lose hope … The work is hard, but I think it really has made me realize that there are more good people than bad people ... It makes me feel so small, but, like, so, so powerful that one person really can make a difference.”

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do it for the forecast

A

story by DEVON MERRITT photos by TRISTAN LOREI

s a meteorologist, WHSV’s Aubrey Urbanowicz’s workday begins as soon as she wakes up.

“I’m checking temperatures,” Urbanowicz said.

“I’m looking at the clouds — ‘Is it raining or, is it not raining? And then, I’ll scroll through Twitter, and then, if everything is all good, I will try to relax and enjoy my morning.”

She arrives at the station in Downtown Harrisonburg around two o’clock in the afternoon.

“The first thing I do is look at current conditions,” Urbanowicz said. “It is very important because you can’t figure out what’s going on in the future if you don’t know what’s going on now.”

Urbanowicz’s day is full of building a forecast for not just TV, but the app and her podcast. She has a full day of work before she’s even seen on TV. According to Urbanowicz, a common misconception is that she’s just the face of the weather. She’s become proficient in creating her show, from the graphics to the face on the news.

“She gets very technical with her job,” Ben Beddos, a weekend meteorologist and reporter for WHSV, said. “She treats it almost like a hobby.”

The end of the work day is when she said she can relax.

“I finish my hair and makeup,” Urbanowicz said.

“Then, I am in show from 5-6:30 p.m. and that is usually when I can breathe for the first time.”

Born and raised in Wallingford, Connecticut, Urbanowicz said she never imagined herself doing what she does today.

“I was actually very quiet, very shy. I didn’t have many friends,” Urbanowicz said.

Now, she’s the chief meteorologist for WHSV broadcasting in the Shenandoah Valley.

“She is very, very very passionate about weather,” Alex Flumm, an anchor and reporter for WHSV, said. “I mean, even when she’s not on TV talking about it or doing forecasts, she’s going on a podcast and is always talking about a different phenomenon.

She is very passionate about that, and that’s important in this field.”

Urbanowicz said that though she has her dream job, she didn’t take the conventional way to get it.

Her Twitter bio reads, “Former Chili’s bartender turned Meteorologist.” She started working at Chili’s when she was 18, training employees and traveling to open restaurants.

While traveling in the south, Urbanowicz’s interactions with extreme weather began. In Florida, she witnessed two hurricanes between the years of 2000 and 2005, then Hurricane Katrina.

“I was just outside of New Orleans when Katrina made the turn from the panhandle of Florida to New Orleans, so we got evacuated to our next opening in North Carolina,” Urbanowicz said.

After relocation, “a little storm named Ophelia raced up the coast, not enough of an impact but enough to go ‘Really, another one?’” Once relocated back to New Orleans, she was tasked with opening more restaurants, training employees during the day and managing the restaurant at night in a place that was obliterated by natural disaster.

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“The restaurant was only open from 4-11 p.m. because we didn’t have a staffer all day,” Urbanowicz said. “We would put out flyers, so if the host called that day and said, ‘Someone’s coming to survey my damage, I’m not coming to work tonight,’ I would host.

Wherever we needed someone is what I would do.”

Chili’s, she said, became a safe haven for the people of New Orleans.

“We were doing as much as you would think a busy restaurant would on a Friday or Saturday night on Monday,” Urbanowicz said. “That would increase Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday, and by the time Friday and Saturday rolled around, you are doing $20,000 days. I had so many people that would say, ‘This is our sense of normalcy.’”

In Mississippi, she saw her first tornado warning and remembers the sky turning green.

Urbanowicz said she felt like she was “being beat over the head by weather.”

After talking with Mark Reynolds, the chief meteorologist at WJHL in Johnson City, Tennessee, Urbanowicz saw herself with a new career she didn’t expect.

“I never wanted to be in front of a camera, never wanting to be on camera,” Urbanowicz said. “I wanted to be behind the scenes.”

She was told she’d have the best luck if she moved to New York City or Atlanta, but didn’t see herself living in these cities. Nonetheless, Urbanowicz became inspired and determined by Reynolds.

“He gave me the confidence,” Urbanowicz said. “He said, ‘You’ve got the voice for it. I think you can do it.’

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He’s the one that talked me into a program for it.”

She said she went back to school with a new passion in mind. This was very different from the first time when she attended a community college.

“When I started, I thought I wanted to do accounting,” Urbanowicz said. “Then, I thought maybe I’d want to do interior design. Then, I thought maybe I would do criminal justice, and just nothing was for me.”

When she was 26, she started at Mississippi State University and graduated with a degree in geoscience.

Urbanowicz found herself with a job in Harrisonburg, Virginia, in October 2010. She said it was further north than she’d been in the past but still had the distance from home she needed.

“This is my home now,” Urbanowicz said. “I signed my first two-year contract, and I thought I’d do my two years and then move on somewhere else.”

She said her plans changed when the opportunity to stay in Harrisonburg presented itself.

“I was promoted to Monday to Friday after eight months,” Urbanowicz said. “I worked in a restaurant for twelve years. I never had Saturdays and Sundays off together. I thought, ‘Maybe, I’ll enjoy this.’”

She was 29 when she was hired, and she said she wanted to settle down.

“I was turning 30, and then, I kept falling more and more in love with the area and saw how much there was to do,” Urbanowicz said. “Then, I ended up meeting my husband here, and we settled on a house. I was like, ‘This is it — I’m not moving,’ and I love it.”

She said she fell in love with the area so much that her brother and parents relocated to Harrisonburg, too.

“I haven’t lived in the same town as my parents in over 15 years, and now I get to enjoy this with them, and they get to enjoy the beauty of this area and everything that the Valley has to offer.”

Her life as a meteorologist, though, very different from her job at Chili’s, has some parallels to that time.

“Every day, it was different as a bartender. I like that fact, and you know it’s always challenging,” Urbanowicz said. “This is a field where you’re always learning new information, and if you think you’ve learned everything in this field then, it’s time to get out.”

She said it’s often overwhelming to learn, but it encourages her to acquire and create new content for the viewers. For young people entering the field,

Urbanowicz said it’s tough.

“You have to have passion,” Urbanowicz said. “If it is something you’re iffy about or you just want to be on TV, this is not the field for you because it is a lot of hard work, and it is a lot of long and odd hours.”

Though the job comes with its challenges, Urbanowicz said every day begins a new adventure.

“It might be 2,000 miles away from your parents, and it might be a two-year contract, and you don’t know anyone, but you have to look at it as an adventure,” Urbanowicz said. “We all have those days where you just want to sit around in sweatpants with a cup of tea and not talk to anybody, but I like that every day is different, which is why I got into this job.”

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leak on water st.

A global pandemic threatens to close one local business, but its fearless owner refuses to back down

Some people call him “The Dude.” Others, Frank Gallagher, Ozzy Osborne and Led Zeppelin. Mike Harlow said he’s just a dude who happens to love corduroy and bell bottoms.

In fact, he loves them so much, he opened up shop. After 30 years in construction, seven in the army, a few months crabbing in Alaska and a short spell of bull-riding, Harlow now owns Water Street Vintage & Bohemian in Downtown Harrisonburg.

It began two years ago with no business plan, no model. He signed a lease, got the license, then looked around and realized the place was empty. “‘How am I gonna fill the store with clothes?’” he wondered. The answer: vintage warehouses, auctions and online shopping.

He drove his pickup to a warehouse in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and loaded up.

Today, he sits in a full store surrounded by movie posters, pins and patches. He collects clothes that

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remind him of his days in high school, which he claims were “straight out of ‘That ’70s Show.’”

Easy ’70s and Motown play on the store speakers.

Walls of boots, coats and belts sit perfectly still in their places, organized and clean. But, they’re growing stiff.

Customers like McKenzie Allen, a self-proclaimed “retrodisiac,” who used to come all the way from Woodbrige, Virginia to shop Harlow’s collection because he “has some of the best vintage items” she’s ever seen, are now staying home.

Harlow taps his leather boots on the floor, waiting.

He’s overcome quite a bit of hardship in his 60 years, more than the average “dude.” Harlow survived seven years of service, brutal ocean winds and even a few particularly angry rodeo bulls.

Post highschool, as the ’70s gave way to the ’80s, he joined the military and was stationed in Ft. Louis Washington, Germany, Korea’s Demilitarized Zone, the Sonai desert and everywhere in between.

“pENNIES TURN INTO

DOLLARS”

story by CARLI WOODYEAR photos by MATTHEW YOUNG

He said he saw camels and sand. He didn’t want to say what else.

After Harlow hung up his fatigues, he found his next job in an unexpected place — a crabbing boat in the dead of an Alaskan winter. He soon learned that it meant a whole lot of ice and a whole lot of night.

On one particularly long one, he said he remembers a call that came on the radio.

The voice on the other side warned that a storm was coming, a big one, with swells of 30 to 60 feet.

Harlow recalled his crew drawing the anchor immediately and racing toward higher ground. They didn’t make it. After hours of trying everything, the crew eventually retired to their bunks.

It was 2 a.m. when it hit.

Harlow said he tossed and turned in his sleep, stomach aching from the motion of the storm. He was a newbie, after all, only two months into the job.

He tried to sleep, but couldn’t. He got up, unable to

stay still, and went to the galley to do his favorite thing — watch a movie.

But he said that when he entered the galley, the smells in the air made his stomach curl. He was so desperate for fresh air that he did the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do. He went above deck.

The air was better up there, if a little loud, he said, but regardless, it was worth the wet boots. He walked along the stern, breathing deeply, then stopped. He remembers his hands wrapping tightly against the rails.

He looked down into the nothing, the blackness.

He couldn’t even see the ocean. He waited, held the rails and went still.

Then, suddenly, the boat dropped down like a roller coaster. There it was — the water, looming over his head. It was 50 feet tall.

Now, here it is again. That same pesky wave. It’s found something he loves and threatens to drown it.

This time, Harlow isn’t running from it. He won’t

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Water Street Vintage & Bohemian offers eccentric clothing options in various sizes and colors.

go back inside. He can’t.

This time, the rent needs to be paid, the lights need to be on and his business kept afloat.

He’s staying open — pandemic be damned.

Since the influx of coronavirus cases has spread across the United States, Harlow’s shop has seen only one person a day. It used to see at least 20, usually 40.

His competitor, Heartworn Vintage, located a few streets away in Downtown Harrisonburg’s Agora Market, isn’t faring any better. The mother and daughter who own the shop are in the process of moving inventory online, banking on virtual sales.

“Our landlord generously gave us the month of April free of rent, but we don’t know what the

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next month will look like,” Allie Motyka, co-owner of Heartworn Vintage, said.

She thinks staying open is the best option for now, and hopes she’ll never close for good.

Harlow said he won’t close either, even if no one comes to shop, because he learned a long time ago that “pennies turn into dollars,” and he could really use some of those right now.

He said his business has dropped “95 percent” over the last two months. Not many people are shopping for vintage clothing with nowhere to wear it. Despite it all, Harlow sits at his counter from noon to six o’clock, waiting for the beaded curtains hanging on the door frame to tap together, signaling a customer’s entrance.

But for now, they stay put.

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home ‘for all nations’

First Russian Baptist Church welcomes immigrants from all countries for services.

N

adia Melchukov always arrives at church the earliest. Before the Sunday service, her parents warm up their voices for choir as she watches from her usual seat in the middle of the room. Behind her, she looks as a sea of cultures floods past the doors. Among these hundreds of people are immigrants and refugees from countries like Belarus, Ukraine, Kazakhstan and Russia — most of them consider themselves Russian.

The First Russian Baptist Church resides in the town of Mount Crawford, Virginia among rolling hills of farmland. The words, “HOUSE OF PRAYER FOR ALL NATIONS,” sprawl across the front side of the building as 42|

story and photo by KAILEY CHENG

people from a variety of countries — from natives of former Soviet states to Mexican immigrants and Americans — come to worship every Sunday. In a country like the U.S. where immigrants are in the minority, First Russian Baptist Church has been a haven of community and support since 1993.

People greet each other in Russian, and the worship and services are in Russian.

“We all speak their language,” Melchukov, an immigrant from Kazakhstan, said, referring to the non-Russian attendees. “You, kind of, have Russian blood somehow flowing in you.”

“My church’s community has opened more doors for me to walk through and to discover my talents and what I’m truly good at.”

Melchukov immigrated to the U.S. when she was 7 years old. She remembers the impoverished streets of Kazakhstan, its snowy winters and “dungeon-like” schools, where children were hit if they misbehaved. Melchukov’s cousins told her and her family about Harrisonburg, where there were better opportunities and a church to worship at, so that’s where they decided to go.

When they first settled into Harrisonburg, they said the church staff embraced them right away. Coming from a country of poverty, her family didn’t own a car, so the pastor’s wife volunteered to drive them to church for services. Melchukov said First Russian was welcoming and diverse.

“My church’s community has opened more doors for me to walk through and to discover my talents and what I’m truly good at,” Yekaterina Melchukov, Nadia’s younger sister, said.

Yekaterina said she’s felt personal support from her experience in the church’s youth group, whether that be from prayers, words of thanks or acts of kindness.

Participating in a group helped her break out of her shell, especially since prior to attending, she feared working with boys. Now, she can work with both girls and boys.

For Nadia, after becoming integrated into the church, choosing what language to learn in school was difficult because she was constantly surrounded by different tongues.

From her experience at the church, Nadia is fluent in Kazakh and Russian, and is currently learning Spanish, French, Latin and Korean.

“You really don’t know [what language] to learn,” Nadia said. “My parents keep saying I keep losing my Russian because I speak so much other languages.”

Being with people who come from a multitude of countries is important to Nadia. She said the church provides translators for the American friends she invites to services.

Irina Logvinovich, an immigrant from Belarus who participates in ministry, said an environment composed

Yekaterina Melchukov of hundreds of individuals who were raised in different countries can also cause conflict.

For example, she said, the church is planning to have a sermon in English to invite more Americans, but there have been disagreements among attendees.

“People from Ukraine will have their own Ukranian things, like, their own culture and how they want things at church done,” Logvinovich said. “The Kazakhstanians will want this way, the Belarussians will do it this way. They’ll have their own opinions.”

Despite this, Logvinovich said, the church still finds ways to unite as one community. Most families know one another, and by attending every day, she’s part of a supportive, loving community. Plus, she said, “there’s always something to do.”

Nadia said she thinks the reason the church reaches out to people from all nations is because the population of Christians in the U.S. has declined. According to the Pew Research Center, 43% of U.S. adults identified with Protestantism in 2019, which is down from 51% in 2009. “[The church] is trying to get Christianity back into the society because they’re getting, like, far away from Christianity,” Nadia said.

The church is active every day, from youth bible studies, to conferences, to choir practice, Nadia said it cherishes its community first and foremost. She also said it’s a big church and that it loves welcoming newcomers and participating in conferences with other Russian churches, such as a Thanksgiving conference for youths all over the East Coast to worship together.

From First Russian’s tight-knit community, Yekaterina said, she was able to grow as an individual, and discover new ways and abilities to help others after seeing how the church has helped her through her struggles.

“I’ve already mentioned that I was able to become someone better because of my church,” Yekaterina said.

“For my family, I think [the church] has helped them see the good things of this world.”

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food

the orginial social network

Chef educates Harrisonburg community through live cooking demonstrations and media following story by MATTHEW SASSER

Most people may not be able to cook like a five-star chef, but now they can start learning how to eat healthier, cheaper and easier through Chef Adrian Taylor’s social media platform, Chef’s Hike. He has 20 years of experience in the food service industry that he loves sharing with the world.

Taylor said he saw a niche in the Harrisonburg community that he thought wasn’t being met.

Individuals didn’t have an opportunity to learn how to make food in a way that was convenient and easy for them.

“A lot of people say, ‘Oh, well, you’re a chef, you must just cook all the time.’ But, it’s more than that,” Herman Franklin, culinary instructor at Buckingham Correctional Facility, said. “It’s teaching. It’s nurturing people.”

Franklin was Taylor’s college roommate at Johnson & Wales University. He describes Taylor as not just a friend, but family. He said he views Chef’s Hike as “unique” because it gives people an insider’s perspective of the culinarian’s craft.

Chef’s Hike, started in 2018, is designed to encourage everyone on their own food journey and promote leading a happier and less full, but more fulfilled, life. Through in-person classes, as well as social media, Taylor said he wants individuals to better understand how food is a central component of their life.

“As human beings, we put a lot of money and a lot of time and interest into a lot of different things in the 44|

world,” Taylor said. “The one thing we absolutely have to have to sustain life is food.”

Part of Chef Hike’s mission is to educate people about what’s going into their bodies. Taylor said that if one looks in their pantry and sees bags and boxes of highly processed food, they’re “not sustaining life, but prolonging death.”

“You have massive companies who spend billions of dollars on marketing to buy products that are unhealthy for you,” Taylor said. “They’re succeeding.”

Chef’s Hike taught classes at the Lucy F. Simms Continuing Education Center in Harrisonburg. Cory Jeffries, a recreation specialist at Harrisonburg Parks and Recreation, said he sees how people have benefitted from these classes up close.

“As he’s preparing, showing ingredients and demonstrating it, the personal experience of being hands on and not having to watch a video is so beneficial,” Jeffries said. “Some of the skills that they’re learning right now, I feel that they can take [them] and easily transition [them] into other parts of cooking or preparing meals for anybody. If you got some experience in the kitchen, this definitely gives you some more experience from a chef’s point of view.”

Jeffries said that he loves seeing the growth of this network and its rise in popularity. Live demonstrations, classes and the online social media platform connect to form a powerful message centered around food.

For Taylor, food always occurs in a social setting.

Whether it’s a party, church event or barbecue, food has always been something shared and experienced across generations.

“Anybody can cook — anybody can boil a hot dog, boil rice,” Franklin said. “It’s what you do with those raw ingredients and the talent that you show and the artistry that you do that makes you a chef.”

Franklin said he also admires the social outreach of this program. Taylor has come to the job fair at Buckingham Correctional Facility to talk to people about future careers in the food industry.

“It gives them hope to see that, ‘OK, this is doable, and this is something I can do and enjoy,’” Franklin said.

“It’s important to them because they need some kind of skill training when they get out.”

Taylor said Chef’s Hike is a niche social platform that particularly resonates with people who are already familiar with Taylor’s goal — to get back to a more natural and holistic way of preparing and consuming food.

Taylor said people primarily connect through social media and technology. But, before those existed, people connected through food. While it’s no longer the cultural norm for many, he said, it’s still critical to connect with what one’s consuming.

Through Chef’s Hike, people can share their experience with food and cooking more easily, while also having the guidance of a trained chef.

“Everybody has their own food journey,” Taylor said.

“That food journey is unique to each and every person on the planet. In that uniqueness, there’s a lot of learned behavior.”

That learned behavior can include negative eating habits, Taylor said. If heart disease runs in one’s family, a doctor will likely tell them that chronic diseases are hereditary. But, if one’s grandparents and parents lived an unhealthy lifestyle that’s been passed down through generations, perhaps it’s not the disease, but the pattern of poor eating habits.

This view on eating, combined with a more tech-driven society and less active world, means that people aren’t paying attention to what’s going into their body, Taylor said. For him, one of the main goals of Chef’s Hike is to reverse this trend.

“You don’t need a doctor or nutritionist or even a chef to evaluate what you’re eating,” Taylor said.

“Remove everything out of the way — people,

television, marketing, family, friends, traditions, culture.

Remove that out of the process, and look at you as a person and evaluate.”

Chef’s Hike continues this mission through videos and posts that allow people the creative freedom to eat healthier and enjoy doing it.

“You may not be able to cook like a five-star chef, but you can cook,” Taylor said. “That’s the benefit of the class — how to do really basic things that, if you just spend some time and repetition, you can cook. You have to be willing to try and make mistakes.”

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It’s the most wonderful

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time... all year story by CAT FALVEY photos by TRISTAN LOREI

T

hough Dustin Kline’s favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla, his store is anything but. The little-known gem of Harrisonburg, Virginia, lies on the corner of Evelyn Byrd Ave. “Snow and Ice Christmas and Gift Store, this is Dustin speaking,” Kline, the store’s owner, said with a southern drawl familiar to North Western Virginia natives.

An overhang shades the storefronts of a jeweler, a bridal boutique and a lavishly decorated Christmas shop. The garland-wrapped banister affronts this mini-mall of sorts, while a bright red banner hangs above to advertise the plethora of holiday products offered beyond the baby blue front doors. Visitors are greeted by dancing multicolored lights and bright holiday images that peek through the windows. Wall and floor space is hard to come by in this festive maze of ribbons, bows, sparkles and glitter.

The back half of this Christmas conservatory transports visitors from a wonderland to a Hershey’s Ice Cream shop. Kline perched at one of the empty tables. Before sitting down to detail the history of his growing niche business, he tended to a constantly ringing cell phone. Requests for store hours, inventory information and the ice cream menu are frequent reasons for calls.

“I was always a five-scoop kid growing up,” Kline said.

He grew up only 30 minutes away from Harrisonburg and recalled driving into town every once in a while for ice cream from Kline’s Dairy Bar, which has no relation to Dustin. He said he’s had an affinity for the holiday season since childhood and always dreamed of building a career around this passion.

“It was one of those things I always thought about as a kid, but you get older and smarter, supposedly, and I put that idea or dream on the backburner,” Kline said.

He revived that dream in May 2011 with the opening of Snow and Ice Christmas and Gift Shop, which exclusively sells Christmas memorabilia and local gifts. Two years later, the neighboring bridal shop offered up a portion of unused space, which was converted into the Hershey’s haven that stands today.

He recalled starting a lifelong career in retail at 14 years old at Mac’s Superette, a convenience store in Folk’s Run. He said he remains friends with his first bosses and continues relationships with many of his previous peers.

Local Diane Knicely started the building’s Christmas shop legacy in the ’90s but closed it down years before Kline decided to embark on the voyage of small business ownership. After reinvigorating the holiday spirit that once lived within the walls of Snow and Ice, Kline welcomed periodic visits from Knicely and her original customers. They still come in to investigate the store’s changing landscape.

“Folks that wouldn’t necessarily come right away into the Christmas shop ... come in and are like, ‘Oh my goodness, I had no idea,’” Kline said.

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The sweet treats offered in the back of the shop draw customers through colorful aisles laden with Virginia novelty license plates, Harrisonburg fridge magnets and ceramic nativity scenes.

Family ties continue to be a driving force at Snow and Ice. Kline’s sister, Wendy Thomas, has been working at the shop since its launch.

“I think the big thing was just being able to help my brother out and help family out as much as I can,” Thomas said. “We are very close.”

Her two young sons have grown up running through aisles of oversized tinsel, bows and scented candles.

“He just thinks the whole store is his,” Kline said about one of his nephews. “He gets ice cream about every day that he comes in.”

Kline’s nephews aren’t the only aficionados of the dairy treats offered at Snow and Ice. The shop has seen an influx of younger customers from local universities.

Grace McNulty started going to Snow and Ice as an undergraduate at JMU. The unusual shop reminded her of a hometown favorite that also serves Hershey’s ice cream.

“I overdosed on Kline’s and wanted something different,” she said. “It’s the quirkiest place, and [it’s] definitely odd seeing all the Christmas stuff in the middle of the summer but so worth it. There’s lots to look at.”

Though the store has seen an unprecedented level of success in town, Kline experienced doubts from his family during the early days of the store. His father worried about the potential of a business that catered to such a narrow, niche market.

“Just the other weekend, he mentioned, ‘I don’t see how you’re making this work,’” Kline said with a hearty laugh.

Kline has proved skeptics wrong with his prosperity.

He recently opened a second location based around novelties for all seasons and consumers. Located in the Shenandoah Heritage Market, Creekside Gifts offers a menagerie of locally themed gifts and trinkets, many of which are produced in Rockingham County.

He has no plans of slowing down just yet.

Preparation for the next holiday season begins immediately after the current one ends. So, Kline, his

family and his troop of employees are in the midst of ordering new products. He’s still looking for some of the best locally made gift items in Rockingham County to fill shelves at both locations.

As if running two businesses isn’t enough, Kline maintains strong community ties, too. He’s handled ticket sales for annual Broadway High School musicals and local concerts for the past 20 years, and established Snow and Ice as a drop-off location for Operation Christmas Child. He recently became the Executive Director of SONshine Ministries, which is a non-profit organization that supports local Christian radio.

“It’s his love,” Thomas said.

She constantly tells him to slow down, but “he loves being involved with people, and that’s just how it’s always been.”

The million-dollar question is, does Kline ever get sick of Christmas?

“I’ve always been someone who listens to Christmas music off and on throughout the year anyway,” Kline said. “I don’t get tired of it — at least not so far.”

49| CURIO

coronavirus crisis As people are forced to stay home during the coronavirus pandemic, they may have lost count of how many days they’ve been in quarantine. Countless doctors and nurses are working tirelessly to treat the sick and grocery workers are making sure shelves are stocked.

However, small businesses are being hit hard by the shelter-in-place orders made across the country.

“We’re so globally interconnected now that the ripple effects go deep, so I think the recovery is going to be harder in a lot of ways,” Nancy Sorrells, a local Shenandoah Valley historian, said.

These adjustments are impacting everyone differently. While some people are able to work from home, some small businesses in the Valley are struggling. Steve Urglavitch, owner of Urgie’s Cheesesteaks, said full-time employees are picking up more hours than usual.

Since the pandemic started to change daily lives of Valley residents, Urgie’s work force has decreased by 40 percent. Urglavitch said it’s because many college students aren’t in town or some employees aren’t comfortable working right now. He also said hours have been cut back by 25 percent. However, Urgie’s is a business wired for takeout and delivery, he said, because of its traditional Philadelphia Cheesesteak roots.

“The fact that people cannot eat at our establishment — it’s had a major impact on our business,” Urglavitch said.

He said he’s put a huge emphasis on the cleanliness of his restaurant by having employees wear gloves and masks when working and preparing food to prevent the spread of the disease. This level of sanitation will be the new norm, Urglavitch said, with or without a pandemic.

Rocktown Kitchen has also altered its operations. Kyle Kirby, an employee, said that operating hours have decreased. The restaurant is normally open for lunch and

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dinner, but is now only open for dinner.

“I think that the owners are doing a good job of seizing every opportunity they have to proliferate their business, despite the difficult times,” Kirby said.

As of April, there are about two or three people working in the front of the restaurant, he said, and the same number in the kitchen.

Before the pandemic, these numbers were doubled during each shift. Kirby said he and his co-workers still work six hour long shifts, but there isn’t much work to do.

The Harrisonburg Downtown Renaissance (HDR) has been working to help these businesses through social media, Jeslyn Stiles, the director of marketing for HDR, said. Its website has a compilation of downtown businesses in a directory with direct links to their websites and phone numbers to call for delivery and curb-side take-out from restaurants, coffee shops, bakeries and breweries. Online shopping, nonprofit and professional business information is also logged.

“Social media is a powerful tool to reach people quickly and distribute quicklychanging information, so, we’ve been hitting the ground running with social media since the first day of the coronavirus crisis,” Stiles said.

HDR has also been negatively impacted because it relies on donations, fundraising galas and sponsorships for events, Stiles said.

With social distancing, such events can’t happen.

“If the pandemic lasts longer than June and if we have a slow bounce back in our community during the recession that is coming or upon us now, we will need to work with our board of directors to find new strategies for sustainability,” Stiles said.

There are some reserves set aside for emergencies, Stiles said, but hopefully HDR won’t need to tap into those. For now, HDR continues to make information accessible

story by SABRINA GOODWIN

online and through social media while streets downtown remain empty.

“It makes me sad, but I know that it’s actually a good thing,” Stiles said. “If nobody is on the streets, that means that we’re all social distancing properly and we’ll hopefully be on the other side of the pandemic soon.”

Harrisonburg also saw a virus in 1918 during the influenza.

Sorrells said she was always curious about the pandemic from last century because her grandmother told her stories about it. She’s done research on the influenza and wrote an article in the Augusta Historical Bulletin about her findings.

The Harrisonburg-Rockingham Historical Society contacted Sorrells in 2019, she said, about giving a talk about the pandemic in March.

“My talk on a pandemic got cancelled because of a pandemic — who knew?”

Sorrells said.

Her program was titled “Coughs and Sneezes Spread Diseases: the Flu Pandemic of 1918” after the headlines that were published in newspapers about 100 years ago.

The 1918 Influenza involved a local shutdown. Sorrells said notices spread urging people to wear masks in public and to wash their hands. Schools, churches, theaters and other public places were closed for a much shorter time than today’s lockdown — three or four weeks. She said at the time, it was against the law to convene in these public spaces.

JMU, the State Normal School for Women at Harrisonburg at the time, delayed its start in the fall by a couple of weeks, but had to send students home when the virus infected about 60 them, Sorrells said. Jackson Hall was turned into a temporary hospital for those students.

“It’s fairly scary, I think, but has made everybody think about what kind of crazy lives we live,” Sorrells said.

5

quarantine approved self care tips

1. read curio

2. take a bath 3. go on a walk

4. watch a movie

5. take a nap

51| CURIO

Downtown Harrisonburg, Spring 2020 52|