EDUCATION & COMMUNITY
COPING WITH THE CORONAVIRUS
Some community perspectives
I
can’t cook. Unless we’re talking about some real basic concoctions that add up to a meal more or less. I’m not proud of this for my 28-year-old self.
Cherrell Edwards-El was determined to make sure her daughters didn’t end up like me. In her quest to teach twins Olivia and Gracie, 11, the culinary craft, they stumbled into a business. “From us posting pictures of what we baked, people were saying they would pay for some,” she says. After months of salivating inquiries, Yummy Treats LLC was born. “I’m not a conceited person, so it takes a lot of people telling me the same thing multiple times before I get the confidence in it.” Now with a small menu of freshly-made personal and bite sized peach cobbler, sweet potato pie, breakfast burrito bites and strawberry pizzas, she says business is booming. While “The ‘Rona” threatened to take the wind out of her young business at the start of 2020, an unlikely supporter helped her survive the time — inmates. The Lifers Club at Oregon State Penitentiary wanted to support small business in the wake of COVID-19. “They placed the first large order I’ve ever had,” she says; 100 pies, plus delivery and tip. “This is not something that was funded by the prison. This was funded solely by the inmates who get paid bare minimum on their jobs and they saved their money.” Now propelled in part by their support, she’s operating out of a commercial kitchen. With dreams of distribution in large chain stores like New Seasons and Fred Meyers, Cherell’s core motivation remains the same — her daughters.
DJ OG One
STILL SPINNIN’
Cherrell Edwards-El
YUMMY TREATS, A HAPPY ACCIDENT
WORDS BY | DONOVAN M. SMITH
W
hen you bring people together for a living, a world running on “social distancing” presents quite a conundrum. But as a veteran in the music game, Portland Trailblazer DJ OG One knows as much as anyone that ‘the show must go on.’ As a man whose job it is to keep stadiums hollering, and dancefloors sweaty, the Governor’s ban on large gatherings meant loss; he had to figure out how to adjust. Losing nearly $7,000 in the days following the ban, he quickly shifted his business online. While the Trailblazers agreed to pay his salary through the year, he knew he could not rely on that income alone. “One of the things that became apparent is I can still make money, ” assures DJ OG One. Now, instead of clubs and birthday parties, you can catch him spinning on Facebook and Instagram live. “It’s a way for people to enjoy what I do in public, [but] now they can do it in their personal space.” His professional development company, Leadertainment, has also shifted things online, offering workshops like “How to Get Your Music to DJs” to the public for a small fee. While online workshops weren’t part of his arsenal before, he says he’s appreciative of the opportunity to give people the knowledge they are seeking with more collective downtime. “This crisis has given me creative options now. So I can add these to my business platforms to have more diverse options for serving my clients,” he says. While he’s adjusted for now, and will continue to do some things online, he says he has no idea what happens for him when the show lights cut back on. Will people want to grind on the dancefloor?
“I would really like for this to be a business that my daughters can see go from our kitchen into a factory. My hope is that they see that you don’t have to just go get a job but that we can begin to create jobs.”
Will people high five a stranger when Damian makes a buzzer beater?
Meanwhile at press time, this writer still was not able to cook.
But one thing’s for sure, a little virus isn’t going to stop his music.
38
FLO S S IN
MAG A Z I NE
Questions that remain unanswered.
