FLUX 2009

F LU X a

student

p u b l i c at i o n

Issue 17 • Spring 2009

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table of contents

northwest explorations

08

my moped

& me 16

ÁÁdey: the idea of home

18

i am myself

24

a greater glory

34

clean cut

40

beginnings

Features

endings

O N L INE

Editor’s Note............................................................. 04

Áádey: The Idea of Home........................................... 18

“We can’t keep doing what we’re doing.”

Immigrants from countries across Africa, now residing in Portland, struggle between a life in America and nostalgia for their homeland.

IN FLUX............................................................... 46

Not all of the work done by FLUX staff is confined to print.

FLUX online offers video, audio, and interactive multimedia that bring you closer to these stories and more, including the features below.

A Small Change......................................................... 46

Read about the documentary films featured at flux.uoregon.edu.

I Am Myself................................................................ 24

Discover new adventures across the Northwest.

FOOD & HEALTH.............................................11 Consider the state of your mind and body.

ARTS...................................................................... 14 Embrace creativity in new areas of your life.

COVER: Andiel Brown is all smiles, and he can’t get the music out of his head. Read Brown’s story on page 34 to find out what makes this man sing. photo

02 flux 2009

Kelli Curtis

Jake Clausen, leader and role model in the UO campus community, is embracing his identity as an openly transgender student and resident assistant.

A List in Question...................................................... 30

In a neighborhood plagued by crime, Officer Jeff Myers created a controversial list of frequent offenders who now receive unique treatment, as a means of cleaning up Old Town, Portland.

Mixing Business with Pleasure

teaser on page

52

In-home sales parties are no longer limited to Mary Kay and Tupperware — sex products are selling big with women across the country, and representatives are cashing in.

Freeganomics............................................................ 47

Sword in the Foam

In a culture that trashes capitalism yet roots through its leftovers, Freegans use scavenging to make an economic statement.

Beyond what seems like playing “pretend” lies a game in which people exercise, interact, and live out their fantasies.

Or Best Offer.............................................................. 47

keep reading online

flux.uoregon.edu

Money truly does equal time for communities around Oregon that have created currencies driven by trade and barter.

A Greater Glory..........................................................34

Once torn between pursuing a career in professional football and gospel music, Andiel Brown is now director of gospel choirs and ensembles at the University of Oregon.

Timeless Lessons....................................................... 48

Marcella May Lange recalls the ways that her generation coped with an economy in crisis.

Clean Cut.................................................................. 40

Lust in Translation: a personal essay........................... 50

In a series of portraits, cage-fighters reveal their raw emotion from pre-fight stoicism to post-fight wounds.

One American student’s quest to follow Dante’s path through heaven, hell, and Italian grammar.

Kevin Bronk

EXPLORE........................................................... 07

Two home builders bring down the house — and the electric bill — with their tiny houses that are created with little waste and no excess space.

photo illustration

Flux Documentaries.................................................. 06

Rethink the way you live.

flux.uoregon.edu 03

beginnings Features endings

Kelly L. Walker Editor in Chief Managing Editor Peter Barna

editor’s note

Assignment Editor Jason N. Reed Marketing Consultant Ashly Stewart Associate Editors Lisa K. Anderson Melissa Lynn Hoffman Rebecca M. Peterson Simone Nash-Pronold Jaime Swindle Molly McHugh Copy Editors Andrew Edwards Logan Juve Chief Research Editor Vanessa Brunner Research Editors Keeley Harding Adrienne Webb Rebecca Ames

Staff Writers Roger Bong Scott Heter

photo

Interning Writer Jonathan Stull ART & DESIGN Art Director Adam C. Ryan Assistant Art Director Tristen Knight Production Manager Steven D. Vail Art Associates Kevin Bronk Jenafer Brown Samantha Ewers Kelly Montgomery Melissa Rezada Max Schuetze Nicole Schultz Interning Art Associate Alysha Beck Illustrator David Zavertnik Photo Editor Rebecca Ames Photographers Kelli Curtis Maren Fawkes Tara Khoshbin Dave Martinez Thomas Martinez Kat Miller Lez Montgomery Rick Olson Jarod Opperman Mike Perrault Jessica Runyan-Gless Danielle Towne

Printed on recycled paper.

04 flux 2009

R

ecent University of Oregon graduate Andiel Brown isn’t doing what he’s been doing. The subject of our cover story, “A Greater Glory,” abandoned his pursuit of the fame and riches of a professional football career to instead find fulfillment sharing his passion for music as gospel director at the UO. Like Brown, our nation and world are facing trends of change. On a multitude of levels, we share one reality: We can’t keep doing what we’re doing. This became the theme of the spring 2009 issue of Flux magazine.

Flux is certainly not doing now what it’s been doing. Flux staff launched the magazine’s new Web site, which will remain the core of the publication’s now year-round work. The site features multimedia accompaniments to many stories, video documentaries, a multitude of links that serve as hubs for networking, and renewed archives of past issues. Staff blogs reveal behindthe-scenes efforts and the trials of production, as well as contemplations of staff members about social media and other current issues.

Visit flux.uoregon.edu to keep making Flux a conversation rather than an announcement.

At the same time, this issue of Flux continues a tradition by examining trends and fresh ideas across the Pacific Northwest. In the Explore department, writers suggest alternative sleeping arrangements for travel in “Forget the Five Stars,” including urban camping, featured here in print, and couch-surfing and U.S. Forest Service lodging, both introduced online. “A Small Change” in the In Flux department introduces a new approach to home building that creates tiny, efficient houses. And “Nature’s Pharmacy” in the Food & Health department brings back Grandma’s home remedies.

Find more stories that inform and intrigue in the following pages and on the Flux Web site.

Room to relax.

Room to sleep.

Room to breathe.

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Producers Kate Brown Allison O’Brien Webmaster Louie Vidmar Multimedia Editors Taimi Arvidson David Saed Georgieff Jill de Leon Brandon O’Rourke Online Manager Maxwell Radi Online Designer Sho Ito Online Art Associates Meredith Fisher Whitney Highfield Danielle Schisler Social Media Editor Karyn Campbell Social Media Assistant Editors Melissa Bennett Sheena Lahren SALES & MARKETING Publisher Saramaya Weissman Business Manager Arikka Hall Advertising Director Lindsay Clark Advertising Assistants Megan Ingram Jayna Omaye Suji Paek Marketing Director Emily Hutto Marketing Assistants Sarah Christ Karyn Fiebich Marcella Lentini Lauren McGoodwin David Rouse Sam Smith DOCUMENTARY Marc Danigan Christina Diamond Katherine Kalk Tiffany Kimmel Maddie Liebowitz Josh McHale Cori Mintzer Nick Morgan ADVISORS Steven Asbury Mark Blaine Bill Ryan Dan Morrison Skip McFarlane Jon Palfreman FOUNDERS Bill Ryan Tom Wheeler Reuse then recycle this magazine

06 flux 2009

flux documentaries at flux.uoregon.edu

forget the five stars

in these short online documentaries, flux offers a peek at points of interest across the Northwest

alternative sleeping arrangements

H 2 RObots Lincoln High School in Portland, Oregon, has produced many competitive sports teams from football to track. But the jocks’ efforts are being upstaged on a national platform by a group of mental athletes: the Underwater Robotics team. In 2008, during its first year of existence, the team placed fourth in the world at the Marine Advanced Technology Education competition in San Diego.

Led by history teacher Bart Millar, the fifteen students imagine, design, and build a robot from scratch in ten weeks. Lincoln’s victory last year came as an upset, and this year’s competition won’t be any easier. But, with the support of their community and some old-fashioned ingenuity, the students plan to rise to the challenge for the second year in a row.

PDX: What’s Keeping Portland Weird?

In the heart of the Pacific Northwest lies a city still young in the world’s eyes. On the surface, Portland, Oregon, may seem like a typical West Coast city, but perhaps there’s something more. A few visits into the depths of Oregon’s largest metropolitan area will have everyone asking the same question: What’s keeping Portland weird? Strange doughnuts? Seventy-eight-year-old drag queens? Grown men with an affinity for zoobombing? Join us on an investigative journey into the bizarre communities that have shaped Portland’s identity. A Flux documentary has infiltrated the inner circles of Portland’s most interesting subcultures to finally uncover the truth: Is Portland really so weird, or are those just words on a bumper sticker? Witness firsthand and decide for yourself.

Architect of Sound Just a few blocks from the University of Oregon campus, inside the carriage house of an old Eugene home, David Gusset painstakingly crafts replicas of violins made by Stradivari, Amati, and other famous luthiers. These violins, valued at more than $20,000 each and coveted by the world’s best violinists, take two months to complete and exhaust Gusset’s extensive knowledge of music, carpentry, mathematics, and acoustics. Gusset’s is a constant quest to find the perfect balance between precision and intuition. One day, he hopes, the secrets of the great masters will be revealed to him.

Special thanks to Andiel Brown, Andre Chinn, Jake Clausen, Randy Cox, EMU Event Services, JR Gaddis, Tim Gleason, Ann Greenfield, Kathleen Larson, Kwija Lee, Tom Lundberg, Chicora Martin, Sara Mason, Kevin May, Zanne Miller, Jeff Myers, Julianne Newton, Stephanie Risbrough, Ryan Stasel, Alan Stavitsky, University of Oregon, UO Alumni Association, UO School of Journalism and Communication, Sue Varani, Brent Walth, and our family and friends..

The term “camping” has traditionally been reserved for nights spent away from civilization. But, as development continues to infringe upon nature, campers are beginning to explore urban environments.

Comparing cityscapes to the countryside seems preposterous, but the two possess uncanny similarities.

Urban wildlife strangely resembles animals in nature. Crossing paths with a moose is a hair-raising moment for a backcountry hiker — comparable to an urban camper being confronted by a police officer. Squirrels pestering backpackers for crumbs resemble panhandlers asking for change.

City streets also seem to have grown into an urban wilderness.

“Peak bagging,” a term used by hikers and climbers, refers to reaching multiple mountain summits. Enthusiasts attempt to bag as many peaks as possible within a certain mountain range. This carries into cities, where campers bag urban peaks. They develop elaborate routes to climb buildings that tower like metal-and-concrete mountains, then pitch tents on rugged rooftops.

Urban campers experience each city they visit in unique and interesting ways. They often infiltrate the most bizarre places for the authentic feel of urban camping. To increase the thrill, campers will set up at a location that borders on legal. Rooftops, baseball fields, and landlocked fishing boats become sketchy sites for the risky urban camper.

A sprawling city green is the urban national park.

Campers can find a site to fit their experience level, there is a wide variety of wildlife, and park monuments offer fun photo spots. The wellforested park is highly desirable, but campers who have brightly colored shelters can stick out even in these woody areas.

Campers looking for shelter from the elements often choose art pieces or play structures as – Rick Olson prime plots.

photo

DIGITAL

Rick Olson

EXPLORE

beginnings Features endings

AN URBAN CAMPER CAUTION: Surviving in the urban wilderness takes planning. Campers keep their gear together in case an adverse situation occurs. They know it’s best to unpack only what they need and leave the rest loaded should they have to leave in a moment’s notice.

for other five-star alternatives during road trips, adventures, or nights in a new town, go online flux.uoregon.edu flux.uoregon.edu 07

beginnings Features endings

northwest explorations

highlight your next road trip with these obscure stop-offs Highlands Hollow Brewhouse

Seaside Beach Volleyball Tourney

Beamer’s Hells Canyon Tours

Seaside International Hostel

Boise, ID

Seaside, OR August 7-9, 2009

Clarkson, WA

Seaside, OR

Getting paid to go to the beach certainly isn’t the hardest thing you’ll do this summer. This tournament is the largest amateurparticipation beach volleyball tournament in the country, and the $15,000 winner’s purse is enough to make anyone become an athlete.

The deepest canyon in North America, Hells Canyon offers rock climbing, hiking, and whitewater rafting to outdoor recreation lovers of all experience levels. It also boasts old-growth forests, free-roaming herds of animals, and twenty-four species of plants that are found nowhere else in the world.

If you think hostels are a bit too rustic, introduce yourself to Seaside International Hostel. With all the usual amenities of a hostel, such as a full-use kitchen and internet, it also includes a delicious pastry selection, an espresso bar, and barbeque grills — think campground meets hotel.

seasidechamber.com

hellscanyontours.com

Recreation lovers unite at “The Hollow,” as it’s locally known.

A pit stop for fans of the great outdoors, the brewery has a full menu of homemade food prepared by “experienced restaurant folks.”

Also, be warned by the Web site itself — they aren’t “afraid to throw a party with live, local music from time to time.” highlandshollow.com

Fort George Brewery Astoria, OR Fort George Brewery invites you to try creative mixing among their eleven brews on tap, or enjoy them alone. And for those young at heart and looking for spice, try the famous Wasabi Ginger Ale.

for more places to drink, play, and stay in the Northwest, go online flux.uoregon.edu

fortgeorgebrewery.com

Double Mountain Brewery Hood River, OR Clearly, beer comes first here, with rotating seasonal ales and many fresh on tap, but everything else offered is just as appealing.

Local chefs make the occasional appearance, offering up their own cuisine in addition to the pub’s homemade pizzas, and on busy nights the garage is transformed into a music venue. Get the timing right and you may get to enjoy both.

seasidehostel.net

The Columbia River Gorge Hostel Bingen, WA At The Columbia River Gorge Hostel, kayaking, sailing, and windsurfing are at your fingertips, as are art galleries, wineries, and inspiring sights. You’ll save money on the inexpensive dormitories and private rooms, so you can stay as long as you like. bingenschool.com

Balloons Over Bend

Logger’s Jubilee

Bend, OR June 5-7, 2009

Morton, WA August 6-9, 2009

Hot air balloons and sponsored beer gardens don’t normally have much in common — unless you’re in Bend, Oregon, in early June. The Balloons Over Bend festival offers early birds a sunrise launch and late risers live music, vendors, and sidewalk artists all day.

Hop in a bed frame and race down Main Street, or straddle your lawn mower and blow away the competition. The Logger’s Jubilee, in its 67th year, is considered the “granddaddy of all logging shows.” loggersjubilee.com

ballonsoverbend.com

doublemountainbrewery.com

Grays Harbor Hostel Elma, WA You know that part of the vacation when you start to miss home?

This country-style guest house will make you forget you ever left.

It may even cause you to want to extend your stay — if “home” lacks a library and eighteen-hole golf course. ghhostel.com

The Oregon Vortex

Bigfoot Capital of the World

Gold Hill, OR

Willow Creek, CA

On this long, lonely stretch of highway, Grey Parrot Brewery is a welcome respite from the desolate drive. So check out this self-described “easy to miss, but not hard to find” pub, and warm up with a beer or a cup of their homeroasted coffee.

Where else can you watch someone shrink as they walk toward you? At the Oregon Vortex, laws of physics as we know them are defied. At the House of Mystery, you’ll discover a number of unique phenomena that will impress even the most skeptical visitor.

At the Bigfoot Exhibit of the China Flat Museum in Willow Creek, California, Bigfoot paraphernalia is on display. This Bigfoot Capital of the World manages to draw diehard Sasquatch enthusiasts and visitors by the hundreds for the annual Bigfoot Celebration, held each year on Labor Day weekend.

Sumpter Stockade

greyparrotbrewery.com

oregonvortex.com

bigfootcountry.com

sumpterstockade.net

Grey Parrot Brewing Long Beach, WA

Sumpter, OR Yes, technically this isn’t a hostel.

But don’t be confused by their motel moniker. You can rent a suite with a queen bed for $60 a night, or better yet, camp out for $10 and use the fire pit free of charge.

– FLUX Editors

08 flux 2009

illustration

Adam C. Ryan

flux.uoregon.edu 09

FOOD & HEALTH

– Scott Heter

photo

Kelli Curtis

Bad Breath • Chew peppermint.

• Gargle salt water.

• Brush teeth with baking soda.

• Scald parsley in water or steam and drink several times per day.

• Swallow 1 tablespoon of apple cider vinegar before a meal.

one in twenty Ninety-five percent of college students with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) fail to earn an undergraduate degree, according to the book Making ADHD a Gift: Teaching Superman to Fly by Robert Cimera. Though the ADHD brain is not entirely understood, research reveals differences in two distinct regions.

The prefrontal cortex is responsible for tasks such as planning, organization, abstract thinking, and initiating or inhibiting actions — the brain’s secretary. The basal ganglia are involved in learning, memory, language comprehension, and filtering information about the surrounding environment — the brain’s censor. Both are potentially underdeveloped in a brain affected by ADHD, which creates struggles to balance conflicting aspects of life and focus on the task at hand. Daily activities are often dominated by impulse.

Dr. Michael Fulop, a clinical psychologist in Portland, Oregon, debates the veracity of the 5-percent statistic, saying that many students diagnosed in college also suffer from emotional or learning problems that commonly accompany ADHD, such as depression, substance abuse, or learning disorders. College campuses have programs designed to support students with these conditions.

However, their efficacy is questionable, particularly in cases where students are diagnosed with ADHD during or after high school.

Students diagnosed in childhood have more time to get the help they need to counter the effects of ADHD. Those diagnosed later in life scramble to cultivate new practices against a lifetime of habits already built. Combined with coexisting conditions, many students don’t receive the attention they require, leading to the high college dropout rate.

– Jonathan Stull

Cooking with Les Dames d’Escoffier: At Home with the Women Who Shape the Way We Eat and Drink draws us into to the kitchen to revisit the recipes created by women over the past few decades. Eda Saccone envied her husband’s dinners with the Boston chapter of Les Amis d’Escoffier, an all-male organization composed of elite chefs and named after Auguste Escoffier, known as the father of modern food and hospitality. Unable to participate, Saccone developed an all-women’s food society, Les Dames d’Escoffier, which now boasts a membership of 1,350 professional women from around the world. With the help of Carol Brock, then the food editor at the New York Daily News, a ladies’ chapter of Les Amis d’Escoffier was born in 1973 as Les Dames d’Escoffier International (LDEI). All 125 recipes in the book come from women famous for their contributions to the culinary world. Of the many luminaries featured in the book, Julia Child and Marcella Hazan share some of their favorite recipes,

photo

Oatmeal baths alleviate the itchiness of chicken pox and poison oak. Honey-and-lemon-drizzled tea relieves cold congestion. Eating pumpkin daily cures bad breath. Everyone knows a favorite home remedy, and thanks to online resources such as Grannymed.com, natural-homeremedies.org, and myhomeremedies.com, you can find even more homemade cures. If you’re looking for new ideas, try these.

Thomas Martinez

nature’s pharmacy have your cake and eat it too

including Fresh Vietnamese Summer Rolls and Catalan Pasta.

As the women of LDEI continue to make their names known, they’re encouraging professional women everywhere to take a step back into the kitchen to create something legendary of their own.

– Adrienne Webb

Cooking with Les Dames d’Escoffier: At Home with the Women Who Shape the Way We Eat and Drink Edited by Marcella Rosene with Pat Mozersky, foreword by Alice Waters and Jerry Anne Di Vecchio (Sasquatch Books, 400 pages, $35)

for more home remedies, including strategies for acne, yeast infections, and even gas, go online

flux.uoregon.edu

flux.uoregon.edu 11

beginnings Features endings

pure produce the value of planting heirloom vegetables on your patio A seed saved from a hybrid plant is highly likely to be sterile or to grow into a plant unlike its parent.

The majority of the produce we eat today is grown from hybrid seeds. To develop hybrid seeds, growers artificially cross-pollinate between plant varieties to instill specific characteristics in the resulting seed. Qualities such as large size and increased firmness are desired by the farmer because they make the vegetables cost effective and easier to ship. For the consumer, this means the produce is less nutritious, less flavorful, and often of undesirable texture — all qualities we’ve come to accept.

The value of heirlooms in the garden, in the kitchen, and in society is indispensable. While heirloom tomatoes are soft, bulbous, and misshapen, ranging from shocking orange to variegated purple, their delectable flavor is a reminder that uniformity quickly becomes irrelevant.

Such tomatoes and many other heirloom vegetables thrive in pots on a sunny patio, not just in a backyard plot.

Seed Savers Exchange seedsavers.org Decorah, Iowa The largest non-governmental seed bank in the United States, with endangered heirloom

4. sheepnose pimento pepper 5. green sausage tomato

Open-pollinated:

While some disagree about what makes a seed an heirloom, these seeds have several characteristics. The number of years over which a line of heirloom seed must be traceable is arguable.

Many claim it’s at least fifty years, while others say the seeds must have descended from before the 1920s when the first hybrid corn was produced, or the 1930s when hybridization began to permeate the agricultural market.

Heirloom seeds must have bypassed the hybrid influence. The most important and universally recognized characteristic of an heirloom seed, however, is that it is open-pollinated.

OP seeds are pollinated naturally.

One natural method is self-pollination, in which the female part of a plant is fertilized by the pollen of a male part on the same plant. Beans, peas, and lettuce are all self-pollinating, which makes them easiest to reproduce consistently. Cross-pollination, the process used by corn, carrots, and squash, is the process in which one plant is pollinated by another. These plants must be separated from other varieties to prevent them from crosspollinating with other plants and producing randomly hybridized seeds.

12 flux 2009

– Kelly L. Walker

illustration

Heirloom:

David Zavertnik

vegetable varieties.

Answers: 1. lao green stripe eggplant 2. jelly melon cucumber 3. paramex carrot

more than twenty-five thousand

glossary

Territorial Seed Company territorialseed.com Cottage Grove, Oregon Offers numerous Northwest-suited, open-pollinated, and heirloom plant

heirlooms help preserve biodiversity

varieties, in addition to select hybrids.

Victory Seed Company victoryseeds.com Molalla, Oregon Provides organic, open-pollinated, and heirloom seeds farmed on location or obtained from select growers.

Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds rareseeds.com Mansfield, Missouri Baker Creek of Mansfield, Missouri, works to preserve rare seed varieties, presenting only open-pollinated and heirloom varieties.

The world has seen crop homogeny wreak havoc on a population before, during the Irish Potato Famine. In the 1840s, the Irish depended almost entirely upon a single variety of potato, the lumper, for its unmatched yield, high caloric value, and simplicity to grow.

Many impoverished Irish people could sustain their families on a small plot of land by growing this tuber, which could be propagated by replanting small pieces of the parent separately. This type of reproduction, however, meant the millions

of specimens were clones of one another, yielding no genetic diversity among an already uniform crop.

When a fungal blight hit Ireland, no alternate potato variety existed; millions of acres of the crop perished within a few years, and eventually more than 750,000 Irish died.

A lack of genetic diversity meant that when one potato bore no resistance to the fungus, neither did any of the other millions. So they all rotted together.

A limited variety of world crops, as

seen today, increases the risk of crop devastation.

Growing more heirloom varieties decreases this risk by offering a fallback if one of today’s large-scale crops were to be – Kelly L. Walker devastated.

for nine more reasons to plant heirloom vegetables, go online flux.uoregon.edu flux.uoregon.edu 13

David Zavertnik

Sources for open-pollinated seeds

illustration

A typical tomato in today’s grocery store is spherical, red, firm, and — whether consumers know it or not — of little nutritional value. Mainstream agriculture has trained consumers to expect these qualities, yet they should be far from desirable. Gardeners understand that many seeds sold today yield plants that can’t reproduce normally, so they buy new seeds readily year after year. Heirloom seeds provide solutions to these problems.

Unlike standard hybrid seeds sold in hardware stores and most nurseries, heirloom and open-pollinated seeds produce offspring that can reproduce.

guess the heirloom vegetable varieties

ARTS

beginnings Features endings

reusable remnants

hit the books

need to relax? kick back with one of these great reads RECYCLED MAGAZINE VASE MATERIALS Old magazines, glue stick, glue gun

INSTRUCTI ONS •

•

•

It can be hard to fit leisure reading into a hectic schedule, especially for college students. When you do find some time, you want to make sure you’re picking up a book that won’t disappoint. Nothing puts a book at the top of a list like a personal recommendation from an avid reader. For the past three years, Mike Hughes has been the youngest employee at a branch of Powell’s Books in Beaverton, Oregon.

Here are his top ten recommendations for your summer reading list. – Scott Heter

Run glue stick across a magazine page, then fold the page into a tight flattened tube.

Make multiple tubes.

Tightly coil the tubes end-to-end into a spiral, using hot glue to secure them together as you go.

Once the base is the size you want, start building up the sides until it has the height and shape you desire.

– Simone Nash-Pronold & Molly McHugh

photo

With the idea of eco-consciousness so pervasive, people are trying to find ways to reduce, reuse, and recycle. But there are still objects we use that don’t have a place in the recycling bin. Try this do-ityourself (DIY) project that utilizes old magazines to create a unique vase that can hold anything from fake flowers to pencils and pens.

The DIY community uses materials from beyond the craft store. After spotting an expensive vase made of old magazines at a trendy art store, craft enthusiast Kyla Postrel asked herself, “Who would pay for that if they could just make one?” Postrel’s love of ecoconscious crafts and saving money led her to create the vase from old Newsweek pages.

The Road Cormac McCarthy “A post-apocalyptic world that tells the story of a father and son with an unexpectedly hopeful ending.”

The Catcher in the Rye J.D. Salinger

Tara Khoshbin

Go online for other craft ideas that make non-recyclables into cool wearables. Learn how to use metal bottle caps to create pendants for necklaces or key chains. Flux writers demonstrate how to transform plastic grocery bags into “plarn,” or plastic yarn. Use the plarn to knit or crochet items, such as the reusable shopping bag shown online.

photo

flux.uoregon.edu WARNING: This vase cannot hold water. To display real flowers in it, wrap the tubes around a cup or vase.

14 flux 2009

Danielle Towne

turning trash into cool crafts

“An account of a confused and angst-filled teen dropout spending a few days in New York to realize most things are phony and inevitably lonely.”

Found: The Best Lost, Tossed, and Forgotten Items from Around the World Davy Rothbart “An interesting collection of found objects, from rejected valentines to found scraps of paper with unfinished messages.”

Me Write Book: It Bigfoot Memoir Graham Romieu

Franny and Zooey J.D. Salinger “A book chronicling only a few interactions between siblings Franny and Zooey, where they struggle with reentering a child-like perception of the world to get over the disenchantment with their brother’s death.”

Reading Lolita in Tehran Azar Nafisi “An eye-opening account of a group of girls who secretly meet to read banned books of classic literature. It not only educated the public of the realities of Tehran but the power of literature to stimulate free thought.”

“In this mock autobiography, the heavily misunderstood Bigfoot gives insight on his daily life and the struggle to be a respected part of the forest. Hilarious.”

Choke Chuck Palahniuk “This book is at times vile and represents what many of us hate about humanity but does so with a love-to-hate character who cares for his grandma by making bold decisions to fraud good Samaritans.”

Persepolis

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter Carson McCullers “A novel that is hailed as McCullers’ best for its deep characters and ability to give truth and voice to those who would not normally [have any] in the South.”

Marjane Satrapi

Watchmen “A great graphic novel chronicling a young girl’s childhood growing up in Tehran during the overthrow of the Shah.”

Alan Moore “The Hugo Award-winning graphic novel is argued to be the best of all time. Even before it was made into a movie, it had been a favorite of all sci-fi nerds.”

flux.uoregon.edu 15

Gasoline Tank

beginnings Features endings

Plaid Seat

my moped & me

Kopp bought the material in September 2008 with the intention of using it for the seat because it matched the yellow and black. He intends to add a tail section with a “stinger” tail light in the future.

The powder coating job took two coats. The hardest part was taping off the black areas that Kopp wanted to remain black after he cured the yellow coat.

Sam Kopp is hopelessly addicted to mopeds.

In high school, he worked on cars and bikes but stuck with mopeds because they are simple to work on and allow for creativity.

This California Bay Area native studies mechanical engineering at Oregon State University.

After purchasing his first moped in May 2008, Kopp began looking for ways to combine his passion for mopeds with his daily engineering work. He’s working on a universal disc-brake conversion kit, which he admits is a slow process.

Inspired by the “insect-like” sound of the two-stroke engine, Kopp decided to develop a technique to customize a moped so it resembles a bumblebee. He had a lot of time, a little bit of skill, almost no tools, and limited funds. But with a pair of yellow shock absorbers in hand, the bumblebee unfolded.

– Kate Brown

Handlebars Clubman bars are favored on café racer bikes because the rider sits lower and has more stability.

Clutch Cover This is Kopp’s best powder coating work, he says. The finish is smooth and glossy.

Front Fork The front fork is from a “pit bike,” which is a small dirt bike. This fork allows the bike to reach higher speeds. Kopp chose to use it because it’s stronger and allows him to attach disc brakes to the moped, which have better stopping power than standard drum brakes.

Rear Shocks These are stiffer than standard shocks and change the way the moped handles.

Kickstand

Tires Kopp chose slightly wider tires for better grip and handling on the road.

16 flux 2009

This is the moped’s stock stand. A center stand is favored over a side kickstand because it lifts the rear wheel off the ground and makes pedal starting easier. This quality is unique to mopeds.

photo

Maren Fawkes

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beginnings Features endings

a´ a´ d e y t h e

i d e a

o f

h o m e

Never letting go of their roots, some African immigrants see coming to America as a means to an end STORY JASON N. REED

PHOTOS JAROD OPPERMAN

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n her left hand, Sonya Damtew wears her grandmother’s wedding ring, a thick gold band dotted with a dozen or so small South African diamonds. On her right hand, she wears an oval-shaped ring set with a beet-red and black-pepper-sprinkled stone that matches her earrings. She peeks down at the stone, slowly seesawing it back and forth with her thumb. The clusters of pinhole freckles sparkle across her cheeks and nose as she smiles. She’s looking through the stone, looking home — looking back to Africa.

There’s a calming earthiness about this woman, whose trustworthy smile makes her customers and friends feel at home. The painted walls of E’Njoní Café echo her warmth. The terra cotta pale mustard-colored walls are trimmed with a mellow green siding and held up with beams painted a brown so dark it’s almost purple.

Sonya Damtew gazes through her restaurant window on Killingsworth Street in Portland, Oregon, where she has spent the past two decades helping African immigrants settle into their new American lives.

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It’s that feeling of home you get when you close your eyes and feel the good memories, she explains. It’s one word spoken in one language, Amharic, but it has counterparts in native tongues across Africa.

“Everyone always talks about áádey; they say ‘Oh, I go áádey soon’ or ‘I go áádey when I get old.’ It’s that idea of home that won’t leave them,” Damtew says. She’s a native of Eritrea, a small country bordering Ethiopia, who’s spent the last two decades working for social programs and teaching skills that have helped settle thousands of immigrants into their new American lives. Her restaurant is a refuge for immigrants who come to her seeking advice. If there’s

“Time never moves slow here like it does back home, where people enjoy each day and are happier in their lives.”

Lemlem Mekuria, 34, runs a corner store by day and welds ships and trains by night.

In the front corner of Damtew’s restaurant, aromatic smoke from roasting coffee beans and burning incense infuses the air.

A woman in a long gown wafts the smoke while saying blessings during a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony. The sharp smells of cumin, curry, and hot peppers swirl out of the kitchen window, while a number of conversations in African dialects find understanding ears. Some of the guests are African immigrants Damtew has helped raise from their childhood, while others are those she’s helped raise as new Americans. Africans from across Portland, Oregon, migrate to her restaurant for more than the food; they feel a piece of home lives here. They taste it in the spongy injera bread. They smell it in the pungent roasting coffee and hear it in the music and languages echoing off the walls. This nostalgia for home translates into one word in Damtew’s native tongue: áádey. It’s more an emotion than a word. It’s the reason these African immigrants come to Damtew’s restaurant.

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difficult, if not impossible, to return.

“Always in the back of their mind is that ‘one day it will be as good as it was, it will be peaceful, and then we can go home,’” Damtew says.

But the reality is that Africa’s numerous unstable countries have become fractured homes, at best, for many immigrants. The horrors scarring regions across Africa turn “home” into a death sentence or a rerun of an unforgettable nightmare. According to Homeland Security immigration data, 26,178 Africans came to the United States in 2007 fleeing war and political strife, more than from any other major world region except Asia. The federal government has tagged these victims of bloody coups and genocidal atrocities as refugees and asylees.

But those faceless victims have names — names such as Lul Abdulle, a Somalian refugee who works to resettle fellow refugees.

These immigrants have no “home,” Abdulle says.

“Home? What home are we focusing on? We lost our family members, brothers, fathers, sisters, husbands, wives, children. All

the nightmares, the killing, being in refugee camps for more than ten years, that’s not easy to forget. People are still having these nightmares that made them run away,” Abdulle says.

Somalian, Rwandan, Sudanese: These are a few of the refugee populations who have tried to stuff the bad memories into shoeboxes hidden under the bed. They build dreams of home using only the good memories that remain, but their own land rejects them. “Even when we left and were interviewed by the United Nations, they asked us if we were going to come back home. Mostly people said ‘no’ because the issue that made us run away is not easy to forget,” Abdulle says. “As long as you are alive, there should be hope, but some people give up hope.”

If she returned to Somalia, Abdulle says she would most likely be raped, kidnapped, and tortured. “There’s the idea that once you go to America, then you become rich. I would be held until I paid, and even if I truly had no money, they would not believe me and make me call people in the U.S. to pay a ransom,” she says.

Djimet Dogo, a native of Chad, works with Africa House, a non-

anyone in Portland who knows about the struggles Africans face in finding a sense of home, it’s Damtew. “They hate all the hoopla here — all the work, work, work, and the daily grind. Time never moves slow here like it does back home, where people enjoy each day and are happier in their lives,” she says.

The colors decorating the walls of her restaurant are her áádey. As a child, she lived in a house that was painted the same green, yellow, and orange. Now, Damtew spends the majority of the week working in her restaurant. Her husband and son both work there, too. It has become her new home. The colors, the smells, the food, and the faces all hearken back to a home that exists only in memory now. She can go home if she wants, and lately she’s been thinking of returning when she retires. But she hasn’t made up her mind. She feels like an American now but surrounds herself with Africa.

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any African immigrants feel home pulling at their chests.

Some can never return to their homeland; others are struggling to find a way back. And some who are dead set on returning have their plans laid out.

But how many actually make it back?

Recent government statistics show that nearly half-a-million foreign-born immigrants leave the United States every year. This exodus challenges the long-held belief that foreigners see America as the Promised Land. Some African immigrants in Portland don’t feel warmly embraced by American culture and often fall flat, exhausted from chasing the elusive American Dream. Many never envisioned themselves staying long in the United States. Their hearts beat for home while their feet carry them from job to job. But they are caught between nostalgia for home and a home country to which it’s

Lemlem Mekuria has lived in the United States for nineteen years. She plans to return to Ethiopia when her son is 18.

flux.uoregon.edu 21

profit in Portland that helps African immigrants assimilate into the local community. Most of the Africans he knows who escaped with their lives don’t travel back to the countries they come from, but go to stable countries, such as Kenya, South Africa, and Ghana. The instability of some African nations is the biggest obstacle facing those who want to return, he says. “People are just stuck.”

Dogo, too, is stuck here. He has a better chance of returning to Africa than Abdulle, but only because he plans on moving to Kenya.

However, the odds are still against him. He came to the United States in 1999 seeking political asylum. As a young man in Chad, he wrote a number of reports detailing human rights abuses occurring in his homeland. He traveled to the European Union to share his reports and called on the body to freeze all support they were giving to the Chadian regime. When he returned, he was suspected of espionage, and his assistant was murdered. He snuck out of the country and eventually brought his wife and two children with him to America. Dogo and his family’s lives were saved when he was granted asylum in the United States, but he says it’s too hard economically to live here happily. Dogo says if he could find a job in a stable country, he would move back immediately. On a modest income of $200 per month, he says he can “live like a king” back home.

Lemlem Mekuria, a 34-year-old immigrant from Ethiopia, came to the United States fourteen years ago, after winning her country’s first U.S. visa lottery. Some might say she’s lived the American Dream. As part of her citizenship program, she trained as a welder, a job that she has held for the past eleven years. For seven of those years, she sent almost every dime she earned back home to support her large family in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia’s capital. However, she couldn’t support herself with the little remaining pay, so she opened a corner store with her friend last summer. In the morning, she sells tall cans of beer to local drunks. From 2 p.m. to 11 p.m., her delicate, five-foot

Djimet Dogo fled his native Chad, fearing for his life, to escape a persecuting government.

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frame sweats away long shifts, welding ocean barges and railroad trains. She’s begun raising a family as well — her 3-year-old son, one of her sisters, and her nephew all share her home.

Still, she’s not satisfied here.

“It’s not a ‘dream’ for me to be here. It’s just what I’m doing for my family,” Mekuria says.

Mekuria gazes homeward with an unyielding desire to return to Africa. “I’m not going to die here; I don’t want to be buried here. I’m going back as soon as my son is 18 and I retire,” she laments. Unlike Dogo and Abdulle, however, she comes from a stable country. The clash she feels with American culture and emptiness from missing her family scares her more than any wars or violence. Growing old in this alien culture is an uncomfortable option for Mekuria. Many Africans fear losing the respect their culture traditionally gives them as elders. In Africa, they make the major decisions, resolve disputes, tell stories, and arrange marriages. In the United States, they become forgotten. Shoved into roles no greater than babysitting, the stripping of their importance leaves many elders feeling lost, without purpose, and isolated. The only path back to importance leads home.

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rowing old seems to happen faster when working multiple jobs, which many immigrants are forced to do. Mekuria rarely gets to spend time with her family because of her morning and evening work shifts. In many African immigrant households, family values eventually lose out because earning money takes precedence. Most immigrants come from rural areas and have little or no education, English skills, or job knowledge. Many can only find low-paying jobs and must work two or three of them simply to pay rent and bills and buy food. Eventually, the family dynamic unravels.

“We don’t have diseases like high blood pressure back home because we live happy and simple,” Dogo says. “Here, parents stress to find good jobs, they stress to find money, and they stress because the family is falling apart because children start acting like American kids. They don’t want to follow the culture or religion; they don’t want to dress like the parents want them to. The family just ends up falling apart.”

Some parents send their children back home once they fear they are becoming too Americanized. The parents work multiple jobs, sending the earnings home to support their children. Other parents see a benefit in American schooling and keep their children here.

Once the children graduate, the parents retire, move home, and live modestly off social security income.

Damtew says her son is close to finishing school and that lately she’s been thinking about returning home. Like all African immigrants who think about returning to the continent, she’s balancing the pros and cons of such a decision. Her husband says

A woman at Sonya Damtew’s restaurant performs a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony. The restaurant provides a link to Africa for many local immigrants.

he wants to live and die here. But she wants that respect and those duties given to elders in Africa. She loves her restaurant and feels American now, but she could also return home and inherit her parents’ house. She loves teaching and helping immigrants learn

"We don't have diseases like high blood pressure back home because we live happy and simple." the essential skills they will need to be successful in America. But she wonders where she can do more good: preparing them for life in America, or teaching them once they arrive. One of these jobs is in Africa; the other is in Portland.

On the weekdays, she closes her café from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. She tries to spend those two hours running errands, but more often she spends them sitting in her restaurant, helping the immigrant population. Students ask for help with homework, beginning

English speakers ask her to translate important documents and conversations, and youths struggling with drug and cultural problems ask her for guidance.

It’s 4 p.m. now, and Damtew has an hour to set the restaurant up for dinner. A young African man seated a couple tables back waits patiently. He’s holding a few rolled-up papers; they could be immigration documents he doesn’t understand, or maybe it’s a homework assignment. She greets him in English; he responds in Amharic. The phone rings, another man walks in asking for help, and a cook yells something about tonight’s dish from the kitchen.

Damtew stays seated with the young immigrant, and their brief conversation continues in dual languages.

Smiling, she peeks down at her ring again, responds to the cook, nods at the man to take a seat, and then gets up to answer the phone.

for more photos and interviews, go to flux online

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beginnings Features endings

I am

mys e lf Just ask transgender student Jake Clausen and he’ll tell you: It’s not where he’s been — it’s where he’s going STORY LISA K. ANDERSON

PHOTOS KELLI CURTIS

H

e ripped down the “-illian” portion of the name scribbled across a glittery paper duck on his new bedroom door. Jake Clausen left the “J,” thinking, It’s safe. Luggage and nerves in tow, a stream of freshman girls and their parents piled into the University of Oregon’s Collier Residence Hall. Jake’s move onto the women’s floor piqued their curiosity.

Despite his tousled blonde-tipped locks, chocolate-brown eyes, tanned face, and dimpled grin, Jake was oblivious to the positive attention he initially garnered at UO from freshmen navigating campus with their parents.

“He’s hot!” a handful of young women whispered to one another. Amid the excitement, unpacking, and introductions those first weeks in September 2007, though, Jake answered his new hallmates’ questions — questions no one had asked since his transition.

flux.uoregon.edu 25

“I was born female but identify as a male,” he began.

Months before, Jake’s mother had filled out his housing paperwork, placing him on the women’s floor. Beginning college life exhilarated him. And a new space outside the confines of his hometown was his primary concern.

Throughout childhood, Jake went by his last name. Because his grandmother had given him the name “Jillian” and he had signed all of his college paperwork “JMC,” he wanted to keep his initials. A close friend gave him his new name: Jake Michael Clausen.

The freedom of his college life has led Jake, 19, to live his motto: “I am myself.” Now, a sophomore double-majoring in sociology and psychology, he serves as a resident assistant (RA) on a men’s floor.

An inquisitive student, advocate for sexual wellness, and peer advisor for the UO psychology department, Jake describes the past year and a half of life transformations, and his smile stretches wide.

Relaxed on a maroon couch in his hall lounge, Jake speaks candidly about the gender dichotomies he straddles while greeting fellow RAs and his residents — he knows each of the sixty students in his hall by name and interests.

“Stella, ella, ella, eh!” he shouts, before jumping up and embracing his co-worker. “Girl, I haven’t seen you in forever!” It’s ambiguous who knows about Jake’s gender identity and who doesn’t — and he’s at peace with that.

“People care more about my body than my interaction with the world,” Jake says. “It’s to be expected. They’re curious. I’m so desensitized, I don’t even notice anymore. I would rather talk about

my experiences — how this impacts me and how I impact the world.

I never had a role model to look up to in the trans community. I want to be someone others can look up to.”

“Gender is what’s between your ears. Sex is what’s between your legs,” says transgender activist Allison Cleveland, founding executive director of the Gender Center in Eugene, Oregon.

“Everyone wants to nail gender down,” Cleveland, 64, says.

“Look at physics, the chaos in nature. Sex, gender, and sexuality are all fluid.”

LGBTQA (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning/ Queer Alliance) communities celebrate the word “queer” as an all-encompassing term for variance in gender and sexuality

“People care more about my body than my interaction with the world.” expression. Yet, as Jake acknowledges, transgender issues are still on the fringe. “Nobody really understands the ‘T’ in LGBTQA,” Jake says.

Recently, this topic has begun to permeate the media. Last June, Thomas Beatie, a female-to-male transgender man, gave birth in Bend, Oregon, and he is pregnant again. Last November, Silverton, Oregon, elected the nation’s first openly transgender mayor, Stu Rasmussen, who won his seat by an overwhelming margin. Housing departments at colleges and universities across the nation have initiated efforts to make residence hall options more welcoming to transgender students by creating gender-neutral floors, something Jake looks forward to seeing at UO in fall 2009.

Jake’s transition from female to male spanned his entire life but became pivotal during his late teens. Silenced by what he calls a “heteronormative environment,” he entered high school with long blonde hair, wearing gym clothes and sweat pants most of the time. Classmates at Southridge High School in Beaverton, Oregon, alienated Jake, speculating at parties whether he was a girl or a guy.

In his sophomore year, Jake dated a boy. “It lasted about two weeks,” Jake says, nonchalantly. “Then I said, ‘Awesome. Peace out.’”

photo

Courtesy of Jake Clausen

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Jake Clausen in his high school senior portrait.

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uring high school, Jake worked for Portland’s YouthLine, a twenty-four-hour hotline sponsored by non-profit Oregon Partnership, helping other teens in crisis while simultaneously fighting his own battles. During his senior year of high school, Jake experienced suicidal thoughts. He sought intervention from his YouthLine supervisor and mentor, Jenny Dodd, who helped Jake tackle the last stretch of high school.

Loving and proud, Jake’s parents accepted that he was not their perfect daughter, but they still struggle to understand his identity as a male.

“Had I come out sooner as trans, they probably would’ve gotten a

Jake Clausen’s love of dance has been significant in his transition and an important part of his college experience.

divorce,” Jake says. “They already had one son. They didn’t want two.”

Partway through his first year of college, Jake switched residence halls, moving to Tingle Hall. There, he lived on another women’s floor, rooming with a freshman named Sola Toshima, who soon became his best friend. The girls in Tingle accepted his trans identity almost immediately.

“I had the biggest crush on him when I met him in Tingle,” Toshima says. “When he told me he wasn’t born a guy, I pretended to be okay with it. Then I realized: It’s just Jake — it’s not a big deal.”

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n a sweltering August afternoon in 1994, Jake lay sunbathing in his backyard with his father. When his dad stripped off his T-shirt, Jake decided he would, too.

“Jillian!” Jake recalls his mom yelling from the back porch. “You’re a girl. Daddy’s a boy. You can’t do that!” That summer day, at 5 years old, Jake remembers replying, “No, I’m not a girl! I’m just like daddy.”

Jake grew up with his parents and older brother, Chad, living in cities across the Northwest.

Always pursuing physical activity, Jake was an avid basketball player in high school. He earned his black belt in Tae Kwon Do at age 17. “It’s the reason I can be at peace with so much,” he says. “You learn to protect your family, self, and beliefs. It aligns your body and soul with everything around you.”

He began to hang out with more males than females and altered his attitude to fit in with society’s perception of masculinity. He compressed his small-but-developing breasts with a spandex undershirt. He still wears the binder every day and says only romantic partners see him with it off.

“I have a tattoo on my back, but those who see it know I am being really vulnerable to show them,” he says. The two Chinese characters tattooed along his spine mean “honor” and “respect.”

Today, his family’s Beaverton home is still dotted with photos of Jake as a little girl perched atop his parents’ shoulders and as a young woman with highlighted blonde hair.

Once, Jake brought a college friend to his parents’ home, forgetting the friend would hear Jake referred to as Jill and see his childhood photos.

“I felt like I completely blindsided him,” Jake says. “You know that feeling when your heart is in your throat and you only hear every three words a person says? He told me he was excited to meet my parents, and I had to tell him, ‘I’m not fully a guy.’”

“Shit happens,” he remembers the friend saying, shrugging his shoulders and then moving to the next conversation topic.

Coming out to friends and love interests has challenged Jake for years. Since his senior year of high school, Jake has had three girlfriends, all of whom are “bi-curious,” bisexual, or straight. Jake’s most recent girlfriend, Nicole Carman, says he is more of a man in his caring and understanding than any of the men born biologically male whom she’s dated.

Even still, Jake’s gender is constantly under review. “A lot of people assume I’m a gay male,” Jake says, laughing. “I’m five foot seven on a good day; I dance; I’m really enthusiastic; and I can be feminine because I try to break boundaries, not because I was born female. Last week one of my co-workers asked me if I was gay.”

Sensationalized media coverage and skirting discussions about transgender issues are because of a broader lack of knowledge, UO Women’s and Gender Studies professor Elizabeth Reis says.

“Trans people encourage us all to examine how we act in gendered ways, even when we don’t realize it,” Reis says. “Their experience encourages us all to analyze things that just seem ‘normal’ and ‘natural’ because we do them every day as women or men.

“Trans people often make a conscious effort to act in certain ways that are read ‘male’ or ‘female’ by the rest of society; for the rest of flux.uoregon.edu 27

was preparing for physical self-defense.”

Upon his return to campus, Jake ran to his room, locked the door, and fell onto his bed, saying, “Oh, my God.” “I made it a point not to be around him and made sure to stay on the other side of the room as him until he quit his job and left campus,” Jake says.

Last summer at Escape, an underage gay club in Portland, Jake stood with his girlfriend in the parking lot wearing jeans and his binder top. A group repeatedly called out, “Is that a guy or girl?”

“I saw a lot of immaturity,” Jake says. “What does it matter if you can’t establish my gender? We’re members of the same LGBTQA community. We need to uphold the same standards.”

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Jake Clausen is the only openly transgender resident assistant at the University of Oregon.

us who aren’t transgender, this stuff might seem to come ‘naturally,’ when, in fact, we learn it all along the way,” Reis says.

“By society’s definition, I would be a male,” Jake says. “I may be a female biologically, but my body doesn’t match my self-perception.

That could go for anyone who’s petite or doesn’t identify with a skin color.”

Despite what he calls a transformative college experience, Jake has faced discrimination. “People are more willing to fight what they don’t understand than stop and listen,” he says. “There is nothing worse than being physically hit for being who you are. There’s still a lot of hate.”

In 2008, Jake and two co-workers heard a National Public Radio story about Thomas Beatie. “Those people are freaks and should die,” one of Jake’s co-workers said. The other, a close friend, was silent.

Mortified, Jake felt unsafe with a co-worker for the first time. “He had been in the military,” Jake says. “I had this moment of clarity and 28 flux 2009

utside his demanding RA and school schedule, Jake has developed a fervent love of dance, specifically breakdancing and lyrical hip-hop.

As he steps out onto the stage in loose blue jeans, a button-up shirt, and his trademark red bandana, a chorus of fans calls out. With a fist under his jaw, he lifts his head seductively, drops it, and swipes his arm across his chest.

He wears black dance shoes and switches the laces depending on his mood; “No B-Boy is complete without his fresh dogs,” Jake says.

“Your attire says a lot about you.” He often wears green laces, which represent a cool mood.

Paired up with Lucy Kiester, Jake leads on the dance floor. “I finally came out to my dance partner last term,” Jake says. “When I told her, she said, ‘Oh, yeah, I knew. I was just waiting for you to tell me.’ I said, ‘Thank you.’”

For now, he’s put aside the idea of gender reassignment surgeries to focus on his education. “I don’t know where I’d start. The top surgery I’m definitely sold on but not the bottom,” he says. “It would be something I’d have to talk about with my life partner in great detail. I’m just waiting eight or nine years until I have a steady income. In my late 30s, I may make the full transition.”

Despite looming questions, Jake raves about his college experience so far. He recalls getting his RA assignment to a male floor last year — the supervisors were more concerned whether or not he was going to be OK with it. Jake’s eyes widen. “OK with it? I couldn’t stand still. I ran and called all my friends. I had applied with my preferred name as Jake and that’s how they treated me.”

“We didn’t want to make the decision for him,” Pat Cunningham, one of the complex directors, says about Jake’s RA placement. “He expressed himself as a guy. So, we treated him as a guy.” Currently, Jake is the only self-identified transgender RA at UO, according to housing department records. John Hollan, associate director of Residence Life, says Jake is likely the first transgender RA housing has employed.

Jake’s transformation has also affected his relationship with his family. “Since coming to college, we’ve become better friends and it’s definitely less stressful,” Jake says, five minutes after finishing a conversation with his mom. He’s kept his parents from his room this year and gives them no concrete evidence that he’s an RA on a men’s

“I may be a female biologically, but my body doesn’t match my self-perception. That could go for anyone who’s petite or doesn’t identify with a skin color.” floor. He says his parents wrestle with their denial yet still try to understand him. He says his mom often asks him, “So, do you want a penis?”

Other family members realize this is who Jake has always been.

“Jake was the tomboy cousin. I had someone to be rough-and-tumble with, to go on adventures with. That innocence can never go away,” his cousin Micah Clausen says.

But Jake’s current focus lies on the future. After finishing his bachelor’s degrees, he aspires to earn his master’s and doctorate in counseling psychology. Jake intends to specialize in adolescence issues pertaining to the LGBTQA community, depression, and selfdiscovery.

“He really changed me,” Dodd, now 26, says. “He socialized me to see binary systems differently. In your 20s, you establish your values and how you present yourself to the world. There’s a lot of living out insecurities. Jake has decided he doesn’t have to be defined, and he’s setting the stage for other people to be themselves.”

For now, Jake’s relishing his college experience. “It doesn’t matter who I was,” Jake says. “It matters who I am now.” for A List of LGBTQA Resources, go to flux online

Jake Clausen and Sola Toshima were roommates in a women’s residence hall and quickly developed a strong friendship.

flux.uoregon.edu 29

beginnings Features endings

Officer Jeff Myers, left, works to ensure that Old Town’s inhabitants have a safe place to live.

A List in Question A secret record of names has helped clean up crime in Old Town, Portland, but may violate civil liberties STORY TALIA SCHMIDT

O

PHOTOS JAROD OPPERMAN

n this dreary Friday afternoon in the heart of Portland’s Old Town district, Officer Mark Friedman of the Neighborhood Response Team slows his police car when he sees a familiar figure stumble into traffic. Friedman surveys the man, who appears to be approximately five foot eight, heavily intoxicated, and in desperate need of a hot shower. He staggers onto the sidewalk as a half-empty bottle of vodka slips from his grasp and falls to the pavement.

“I’m calling for backup,” Friedman says. “You never know in these kinds of situations.”

When his partner arrives, Friedman exits the car and approaches the man. After a quick pat-down, they find a tattered wallet, a faded baseball cap, and a small alcohol stash. The officers cuff him as he writhes and complains that they’re hurting him.

30 flux 2009

“We don’t want to hurt you. We just don’t want you hurting yourself,” Friedman responds. Together, they lead him into the back of the car, where he falls onto the seat. “This isn’t your first time,” Friedman reminds him. “You know the routine.”

Friedman knows the drill, too. He’s arrested the same man for shoplifting, drinking in public, and disturbing business owners. Now, he’ll once again take the man to the Hooper Detox Center where he can focus on getting clean — for up to eight hours, at least.

It’s a decade-old cycle the police bureau has been working tirelessly to solve. Crime, drugs, and mental health issues plague Old Town more than any other neighborhood in Portland, Oregon. The same small group of criminal offenders, many of whom are addicts, continue to cost the city thousands of dollars in taxpayer money for service treatment every year. Police officers are frustrated arresting the same offenders for the same crimes every day. Driving them to

detoxification centers to sober up may work temporarily, but often they are back on the streets drinking or using the same night. The man Friedman arrested is definitely on the police bureau’s radar — in fact, he’s probably on what Portland media now call “the list.”

The list, created by Neighborhood Response Team police officer Jeff Myers in 2003, causes the city’s most frequent offenders to receive felony charges for crimes the county typically counts as misdemeanors because of a severe lack of funding and prison space.

Conversely, it ensures immediate drug or alcohol treatment to some of Portland’s neediest addicts, thus reducing drug use and drugrelated property crimes. It typically takes up to six months to receive such treatment. Every ninety days, the police bureau runs arrestrecord data to determine the thirty-five most-arrested offenders.

Though violators face felony charges, Myers says he has people calling him and asking to be on the list. It’s clear the energetic blonde-haired officer who stands at nearly seven feet tall remains committed to his brainchild — no matter how much heat the program has taken.

The Portland Police Department believes that the list — part of the larger Neighborhood Livability Crime Enforcement Program (NLCEP), which costs the city $2.5 million in services per year — is effectively reducing drug activity in Old Town and central precinct neighborhoods while simultaneously pushing its “regulars” into treatment.

But civil libertarians are deeply concerned with the program’s logistics. In a hearing to get police testimony to learn more about the program, ACLU attorneys discovered that people on the list are never notified and have no way to appeal. The names on the list remain secret to everyone except law enforcement officials.

ACLU of Oregon Executive Director David Fidanque says he disagrees with the idea of using felony convictions to force people into treatment. People need to want the help first, he argues.

“I think this program is well-intentioned, like a lot of government programs,” Fidanque says. “It’s how they’re trying to do it — without any [public] review — that we don’t like.”

Elden Rosenthal, an attorney working with the American Civil Liberties Union, worries that the program’s secrecy runs contrary to democracy. He believes the program violates certain constitutional rights.

“These people aren’t being treated equally,” Rosenthal said. “The fact that one officer can make this decision is a perfect example of not treating all people equally.”

Spurred by the police bureau’s latest plans, the ACLU joined forces with Multnomah Defenders Inc. and Metropolitan Public Defenders to represent three individuals on the list. Attorneys argued these cases in the Multnomah County Circuit Court to drop the felony charges brought against their respective clients — but later learned how difficult that would be.

The city has tried implementing exclusionary drug-free zones in which police officers, district attorneys, and the courts could issue drug users citations preventing them from returning to the area for ninety days. After a fifteen-year trial run, the city determined it wasn’t working. Inspired by the innate problem in the system, Myers decided to take matters into his own hands.

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yers ran a background check in 2003 on Ronald Terrance Washington, a severely handicapped 42-year-old man caught deep in the cycle of addiction. Myers learned Washington had been arrested forty-six times in a ninety-day period, was overdosing while riding public buses, and was costing taxpayers $1 million annually for police, jail, and health services.

Myers finally decided he’d had enough of watching the same violators waste the city’s precious resources, time, and funding.

With the NLCEP and the list to clearly identify Old Town’s mostfrequent offenders, the police department watched as the number of calls reported decreased substantially. The controversy signifies a deeper desire from community members to feel safe in their own neighborhoods while simultaneously helping those in need. However, criminal lawyers defending people they later discovered were on the list insist that there is a way to combat crime and enhance livability without violating civil rights.

The master list names about four hundred people with significant criminal histories — some of who have more than 150 incidents with police and the courts. Officers compile the list based on arrest data

“I think this program is wellintentioned. It’s how they’re trying to do it — without any [public] review — that we don’t like.” in five central-city neighborhoods. The only way to get off the list is to keep from committing any of the crimes related to the list in the Portland neighborhoods for three years.

The program’s opponents remain troubled by the list’s secrecy to those on it. But Service Coordination Team program manager Bill Sinnott argued that as long as the numbers are reflecting a positive shift in the community, it shouldn’t matter that the list is confidential. Public defenders argue the list unconstitutionally labels people as chronic offenders based on arrest data instead of convictions.

But is it really working?

Police officers have arrested Washington less frequently since he’s been on the list, and the county is paying $62,000 annually for his special-needs housing arrangement, compared to the $1 million flux.uoregon.edu 31

per year he previously cost, according to estimates from former Multnomah County Director of Mental Health Peter Davidson.

Researchers at Portland State University studied the program as part of a capstone course to evaluate the program’s effects on crime and drug use. The results favored the police bureau’s methods, and the program is currently on its way to national review. If other bureaus in the country agree that this pilot program works well, they may adopt its practices.

“There’s no other program that we know of like this,” Myers said.

“What we’re doing — it’s unprecedented.”

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ultnomah Defenders Inc. attorney Lisa Pardini was alarmed when she learned her client received a felony charge for a crime Multnomah County usually considers a misdemeanor. She fears that nobody is making sure the police bureau is held accountable for identifying chronic offenders. She’s not alone.

Other lawyers were worried too, and they joined forces with the ACLU to defend those who could not defend themselves, including Washington.

The attorneys subpoenaed a copy of the list, which identifies offenders by computer record number (CRN). Just as they were delving further into the issues, a copy of the comprehensive list, complete with names, mysteriously appeared in her colleague Spencer Hahn’s mailbox. She guesses it came from an anonymous social service provider or “someone on the inside.”

Though the copy that law enforcement officials receive lists

offenders by CRN, the mysterious tip-off list disclosed full names.

Pardini grew even more distressed when a colleague discovered that it disproportionately identified black people.

She wants to know why the public did not officially learn about this program until early 2008 — years after its inception. Myers insists that he has been consistent and transparent throughout the program’s inception but that the information on the list is private to protect confidentiality.

Myers began charting his data and compiling it into graphs in 2003, but the first written public proposal is dated August 12, 2004. This would suggest that the police bureau began enforcing the program’s policies before any stated guidelines were written down.

“This sounds like something that used to happen in Eastern Europe, not something that could happen in Oregon,” Rosenthal said.

Wary of the fast tracking route, Pardini is skeptical of Myers’ plan to send those on the list straight to social services. She says there is no follow-through.

“It’s not happening,” Pardini said, shaking her head. “My clients say they’re not receiving treatment, they’re not getting help.”

To make sure the NLCEP and its motives were truly aligned with enhancing livability, Myers implemented an advisory board of community members. Making this roster public may fend off some complaints that the police bureau is racially profiling. Myers argues that it’s impossible; he based the list off CRN arrest data, so name, race, and other identification factors are not included.

“This advisory board met every three months or so before the first list was even generated,” Myers said. “We are absolutely transparent.”

Myers also pushed for a committee to help keep stakeholders updated. Every Monday afternoon, twenty-five to thirty people crowd into the modest Old Town bureau and discuss ways to help repeat offenders get off the streets and stay clean. The group includes representatives from Central City Concern, Volunteers of America, and the District Attorney’s office. At this Service Coordination Team meeting, they collaboratively come up with tailored solutions for each individual on the list.

Yet, it’s the secrecy and the behind-closed-doors policy that frustrates ACLU attorneys and civil libertarians.

Fidanque stares out the window of the modest conference room in his Eugene, Oregon, office and shakes his head slowly.

“The ends here don’t justify the means,” he says.

n April 2009 decision from Judge Dale Koch of the Multnomah County Circuit Court denied the motion to reduce charges from felonies to misdemeanors. However, he did rule that prosecutors could not make charging decisions based on the list; the district attorney’s office must review each case individually. The judge declined to comment on the police program’s

A

Officer Myers prepares to make an arrest of a person possibly on the list at a Central City Concern dormitory.

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The Service Coordination Team meets weekly to propose individualized solutions for offenders on the list.

constitutionality, but criminal defenders on the case, such as Brian Schmonsees, anticipate further discussion in the future. The judge allowed police to continue compiling the list. But the civil case questioning the program’s constitutionality remains an ongoing process.

The program has left some Old Town businesses such as Upper Playground on NW Fifth Avenue and Couch Street wondering how ethical such a project can be.

“My safety isn’t worth jeopardizing people’s basic rights,” says Katie Campbell, an Upper Playground employee. “I think there should be a way to keep everyone safe and protect everyone’s legal rights at the same time.”

That’s exactly what Myers believes the program does; many of the offenders, particularly Washington, are his friends. He works hard to protect them from their addictions and to protect the rest of the city from drug-related crimes.

Myers is still in touch with Washington. Myers will never forget an early court hearing in January 2009 that left defense lawyers stunned. Striding into the courtroom, Myers watched as

Washington’s face lit up. He went over to greet his old friend.

“You don’t normally see that,” Myers chuckled. “I think [the public defenders] were a little bit in shock.”

During the lunch hour, Myers stayed to empty Washington’s urinary bag and visit with him. Though he says he’s constantly been portrayed as the villain, Myers picked up a sack lunch from a nearby social service facility and brought it to Washington before court reconvened. Harsh realities set in at the end of the day, but Myers insists it’s a relationship built on trust and mutual learning. Even today, the soft-spoken outgoing officer checks in with his regulars on the darkened street corners of Old Town.

“This is not what police usually do,” Myers said. “This is community-based policing. It’s like being the parent of a child; you give them an immediate consequence for something they do wrong, but in the end, you want [the child] to know that you love him and want him to succeed using all the resources you’ve provided.”

to see “the LIST” documentary, go to flux online

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beginnings Features endings

a

g re a t e r

GLORY Local gospel phenom Andiel Brown can’t get music out of his head, so he’s sharing it with everyone STORY OWEN GRIFFITH

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PHOTOS KELLI CURTIS

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ndiel Brown snaps his fingers. He sways back and forth, moving to the music around him. Broad in the shoulders and lean in the legs, Brown is the picture of athletic power, yet he moves with the grace and fluidity of a dancer. As the tempo quickens, he smiles and breaks into a dance, moving his shoulders from side to side and stomping his feet. The crowd begins moving with him. Brown is on stage, in his element.

“I wouldn’t be who I am without music,” Brown, 24, later explains, sitting in his sparse office at the University of Oregon. “If there was no music? Good grief. I’d be mad. Probably be a jerk to everybody!”

Brown laughs, as he often does. There’s plenty to smile about as Brown realizes he’s doing what he’s meant to do, serving as director of gospel choirs and ensembles at UO. “I’m here to show people that the way music touches me, it can do that for anyone,” he says.

On stage or in the classroom, Brown is constantly moving. The music, he says, does it to him — makes him shimmy while he teaches a song. “I like to walk back and forth, pacing, as the song is going,” he says. “And then something will just hit me, and I’m able to enact the words, and it becomes real to [students]. That’s what I love doing. I love seeing people change and improve.”

Improvement, he believes, doesn’t just come in musical ability. It comes in spiritual health, in faith, and in personal growth. “Music, especially gospel music, is just therapy,” he says. “A lot of people need healing. And if you have some positive message set to some good music, that can do wonders for a person’s soul.”

The health of Brown’s soul is vital to him. He’s a devout Christian,

ABOVE: Andiel Brown can’t stop tapping and snapping to the beat in his heart. OPPOSITE: Brown was once torn between his love of football and a calling to gospel music. He now says that he made the best decision of his life.

36 flux 2009

one who abstains from dairy products, sugar, and meat for up to forty days at a time. He’s also been known to remove himself from technology for weeks at a time. “Fasts are all about spiritual cleansing, about consecrating myself so I can be closer to God,” he says. “All the stuff we watch on TV, all the junk that we eat, all the craziness that we entertain, when you reflect on that, such a peace comes over you.”

Peace wasn’t easy for Brown to find. He grew up in Los Angeles and then in Oregon, spending his days picking fights and hanging out with gang members. His father, Roosevelt Brown, now a pastor, worked for the Ecclesia Athletic Association, a ten-family housing

Improvement, he believes, doesn’t just come in musical ability. group that trained young athletes in Biblical doctrine. One of the athletes died during a disciplinary session, landing his father in prison and leaving Brown without a male role model. “When he left, things fell apart,” Brown says, rubbing his massive hands together.

“There was a longing for that male influence. I still had my faith, but I’d put it on the back burner a little.”

After nearly a decade apart, his father’s return to the family in 1997 was far from a happy reunion. Brown rebelled, upset at being abandoned by the man who taught him his faith. It would take another ten years and a life-altering conversation for the younger Brown to reconnect with his father.

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rown is standing at the twenty-yard line in Michigan Stadium, the famed college football venue nicknamed “The Big House.” It’s September 2007, and the majority of the 109,000 fans in attendance are clad in the Wolverines’ maize and blue, united in a singular hope: that Brown will screw up.

And all he can hear is T-Pain lyrics.

“I’m about to catch this punt, and what pops into my head? ‘I’ma buy you a driiiink! Ooooh-oooh-wee!’” he says, bobbing his head up and down in laughter. “I mean, I caught it though. But I’m the type of dude who’s got music in his head all the time!”

Music was in his head and in his heart, even as a member of the Oregon Ducks football team. Playing primarily as a punt returner, Brown joined the team as a freshman walk-on. Four years later, when he attracted attention from professional football scouts, he considered pursuing it for one reason: his father’s approval. “I just couldn’t relate to him,” Brown says. “I’m thinking, ‘I’m going to make my dad proud and get my family some recognition.’”

Brown sat down with his father in Portland, Oregon, to discuss his future. It was clear that his life was at a crossroads: Either Brown could devote more time and energy to a sport he no longer loved, flux.uoregon.edu 37

and lowers his voice, much like a pastor emphasizing an especially important point to his congregation. “No matter what happens, no one can take your passion for music. Circumstances can take your passion for football. But with music, as long as you’re doing your

“Every song has a meaning behind it, and if my students ask, I just tell them. And even if they did ask me about God in class, how could I turn them away?”

behind it, and if my students ask, I just tell them,” he says. “And even if they did ask me about God in class, how could I turn them away?

To me, that’s way more important than any job.”

This passion is obvious to anyone who spends time with Brown. Zack Poelwijk, the gospel choir’s pianist, says it’s evident in everything Brown does. “A lot of people say they’re faithful, and then they’ll go to church on Sunday and not live that way the rest of the week,” Poelwijk says. “Andiel, man, he’s a Christian twenty-four hours a day. You can’t separate him from his God or from his music.”

Brown leans back in a black leather chair in his office, peering out

his window at a rainy Eugene morning. He shakes his head slowly, reflecting on the turning points in his life: his unwavering faith and his once-broken relationship with his father. “They were all combined experiences,” Brown says. “I wouldn’t change them for the world because they shaped me as a person. They taught me diligence and hard work and all that. That stuff carries over into real life.” Brown lets out another laugh, this one from deep within his chest. “Shoot, that’s some good stuff!”

For Photos and video, go to flux online

craft the way you want to do it, no one can take that from you. My aspirations, my goals, and my ideals as a musician never left. They only got stronger.”

They strengthened as Brown sang in the University Singers and Gospel Repertoire groups and strengthened as he became the football team’s spiritual leader during his senior year. “Once that love for music started bubbling up again, it got to the point where it was therapeutic for me,” he says. “If I’m upset, I’ll go to my room and just shout out some notes. It’s just a release for me.”

A

Andiel Brown is the youngest-ever director of gospel choirs and ensembles at the University of Oregon.

or he could pursue music, his true passion. “He told me, ‘NFL or no NFL, I’m proud of you,’” Brown says, running his hand through his dreadlocks and letting out a loud sigh. “He said if music was my thing, I should go for it. And I think he’s more proud of me now than he ever was with football.”

With his father’s blessing, Brown turned toward his first love.

“Even when I wanted to make it to the NFL,” he says, “I was also thinking, ‘How can I make it in football and in music?’” Brown pauses 38 flux 2009

fter graduating in 2008 and landing the gospel director position, Brown realized his personal growth could serve as an inspiration to others. “With the wisdom and knowledge I’ve gained over the last few years, I’d be a punk if I didn’t share it,” he says.

So Brown shares, both in and out of the classroom. He visits local high schools to talk to at-risk students, telling them that they can rise out of poverty and that they don’t have to be a statistic. If he succeeded then they can, too. “I decided I needed to show these kids a different way, a better way,” he says. “They don’t have to party or fight all the time.”

He occasionally brings along current and former football players, as much for their benefit as for the kids’. “It’s very rewarding. You share your wisdom, and in turn these kids go out and try to one-up you with their accomplishments.”

For now, Brown’s own accomplishments are secondary. He eventually wants to write a symphony and pursue a solo music career, but teaching takes precedence. “I’ve realized I’m here not for myself,” he says. “I’m here to help other people because I know other people that go through broken families, broken marriages. They need to hear my message.”

This message often includes a heavy dose of the gospel. “To see all that I’ve been up against and all that God’s brought me through, man, how could I not tell people about it?” The music, he says, is impossible to separate from his faith. “Every song has a meaning

“No matter what happens, no one can take your passion for music,” Andiel Brown says. “Circumstances can take your passion for football. But with music, as long as you’re doing your craft the way you want to do it, no one can take that from you.”

flux.uoregon.edu 39

beginnings Features endings

Chris Westguard 205 pounds Wins: 2 Losses: 3

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L

E

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N

CUT A series of portraits reveal the unbridled intensity behind one of the most popular and violent sports in the world STORY & PHOTOS THOMAS MARTINEZ

They are locked in a cage surrounded by thousands of screaming spectators. But this one will not be fought following the conventional rules of boxing or classic Greco-Roman wrestling. This is cage-fighting, one of the fastest growing and most savage sports in America.

The following portraits offer a stark look at the sport’s physical and emotional toll. They were taken immediately before and after bouts.

The men pictured — winners or losers — were not posed or coached.

The blood, sweat, and emotions are their own.

40 flux 2009

beginnings Features endings

Tyrone Angulio 145 pounds Wins: 5 Losses: 0

“I fight to be better than I am.

I have a desire to be a better athlete, competitor, and martial artist.�

flux.uoregon.edu 43

James Bennett 240 pounds Wins: 0 Losses: 1

Fighters will tell you they fight because they love it — the bruises are merely a temporary side effect. Spectators celebrate them for their sport, not for the blood they spill.

For More fighter portraits, go to flux online

44 flux 2009

building tiny houses for sustainability

making meals and living on society’s trash

Walt Quade was always a man for small spaces. Living in homes ranging from cottage to boats, the former home contractor grew tired of building duplexes for a quick profit and turned his homebuilding skills to something smaller.

In 1992, Quade built his last five thousandsquare-foot duplex and downsized his business model to build 325-square-foot homes.

“A lot of people have become acclimated to large spaces,” Quade says. “The challenge became, ‘how small can we make it?’”

Quade, the owner of Small Home Oregon, has thrown out the traditional large-home image and specializes in building tiny homes. The Portland-based home builder is creating houses with no excess and very little waste. The average size of a home has increased almost seven hundred square feet since 1978, according to 2007 statistics from the National Association of Home Builders.

As homes have become larger, so has the price per square foot, and the recent subprime mortgage crisis has forced many

Since childhood, most of us have been taught that trash is gross. But in a time when our world is sinking under tons of discarded Ziploc bags and plastic bottles, we find ourselves forced to look at trash not with disgust, but as potential.

“Freeganism” is a lifestyle that practices this new mindset to an extreme. Freegans use other people’s trash to boycott the current economic system, where “the profit motive has eclipsed ethical considerations,” according to freegan.info. Despite this extreme statement, it’s possible to be a freegan without diving head-first into a trashcan.

• Ask your local grocery store manager about the store’s policy for recently expired food such as yogurts, juice, or eggs. Also ask for produce that is slightly damaged, such as bananas, apples, pears, and others that easily bruise and are often discarded.

families to downsize. Individuals and some families are turning to smaller houses as a relief from the massive amount of debt a large home can bring. A $40,000 tiny home can drastically reduce a utility bill.

“We’ve gone to supersizing everything,”

46 flux 2009

photo

Quade says. “Pretty soon you think bigger is better. People have trouble getting away from that and it’s the primary problem.”

Building tiny homes has also become a political statement, Quade says. Through his work, he is able to exemplify just how little a person needs to live.

Less room means less energy consumption and a smaller environmental footprint. “Everybody should be asking themselves what they need to fit their lifestyle,” Quade says.

Home-designer Jim Russell founded Ideabox, a prefabricated small-home production company. The philosophy of Ideabox is to eliminate unneeded space by allowing customers to add or remove fifteen-foot-by-fifteen-foot cubes from an eleven-foot-by-thirty-foot center cube. The result: a customized home that is built to the owner’s needs. Without extraneous rooms or hallways, Russell can build

eight-hundred-square-foot homes for approximately $90,000.

“There is a change in the way people are living,” Russell says. “Our parents had living rooms, dining rooms, front rooms, and bedrooms — rooms that really weren’t necessary.”

The smallest home Russell builds, only four hundred square feet, is nearly half the size and cost of the average American home.

Utility bills tend to range from $40 to $60 per month.

Despite their size, neither Russell’s nor Quade’s homes feel small from the inside.

With minimized clutter and high ceilings, “small” homes are better described as “quaint.” Recognizing what an individual needs, Quade summed up the small-home philosophy: “It’s how you use the space.”

- Dave Martinez

or best offer Federal dollars are meant to be scarce to ensure their value. Local currencies, however, use region-specific money not created by the U.S. government.

They find their value in people.

Most local currencies use timedollar systems in which each bill directly represents a person’s time. This system removes the obstacle that arises when each trader must have something the other wants, whether it’s a massage, a portrait painting, or a haircut.

RiverHOURS, launched in Hood River, Oregon, serves the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon and Washington.

squeamish about trash? to learn how to be a freegan without Dumpster diving, go online flux.uoregon.edu

a trade and barter economy

The bills are divided into three denominations: One HOUR equals $10, one half HOUR equals $5, and one tenth equals $1.

Several local stores take different percentages of HOURS and members advertise in the Trade Directory. Today, there are more than eighty members and about $19,000 worth of local currency in circulation.

A person doesn’t have to be a member to receive and spend these beautifully designed local bills. One HOUR uses a colorful image of a salmon, and “In one another we trust” appears in both English and Spanish at the bottom.

These bills can be passed between anyone in the community.

Another system, HOUR Exchange, is based in Corvallis, Oregon, and serves all of Benton County. Here, each HOUR is worth $10, and bills come in three smaller denominations. Members pay yearly dues in exchange for HOUR bills, and listings appear in the HOUR Trader. HOUR Exchange supporters work to expand their local money supply by promoting local economic independence.

This spring, the Time Bank in North Portland broke its record for the most community involvement. The

Time Bank, a different system with similar values, is based on the idea that everyone has something to contribute. For each HOUR members spend providing a service for others, they earn one Time Dollar to spend on another’s service. The online network of exchanges runs through a computer software program.

The crucial concept to understand is that local currency and Time Bank credit are extra values to be spent, not saved.

Since this value never leaves the community, it benefits the local economy while simultaneously encouraging entrepreneurship -Keeley Harding and creativity.

flux.uoregon.edu 47

Kat Miller

“Our parents had living rooms, dining rooms, front rooms, and bedrooms. Rooms that really weren’t necessary.”

Walt Quade stands beside a model of one of the 325-square-foot tiny homes he builds as part of his company, Small Home Oregon.

Most stores just throw these items away and would be happy to turn them over to someone else.

• Check behind grocery stores for supplies of day-old goods. Some bakeries toss loads of day-old breads, bagels, and muffins into the trash — many of which taste slightly stale but are totally edible.

• Wander around university campus neighborhoods at the end of spring term and take advantage of the smorgasbord of goods tossed out onto the sidewalk.

Microwaves, couches, desk chairs, televisions — if you can name it, it can probably be found somewhere around a university area come June.

An economic statement doesn’t have to be extreme to be effective. Easing into it, implementing basic ideals, and leaning toward the middle of the spectrum can all make an impact.

- Vanessa Brunner

photo illustration

freeganomics

Dave Martinez

a small change

Thomas Martinez

IN FLUX

photo illustration

beginnings Features endings

beginnings Features endings

M

arcella May Lange remembers all too well when the American economy sputtered and died.

In the living room of her family’s East Los Angeles home, she listened as her father, Thomas Mercier, adjusted the antennae on the homemade radio. Her mother tended to a simmering pot of soup on the kitchen stove, and upon hearing knocks on the back door, she called out to her daughter.

“Marcella, you’ve got a customer,” she said, referring to someone awaiting a warm bowl of soup. As they all waited, the new voice of a generation broke through the radio static.

Lange was only 12 years old when Franklin D. Roosevelt gave his inaugural address announcing the New Deal in 1933.

She was even younger when the stock market crashed on Black Tuesday in October 1929. During the Great Depression, she lived in a stable home, her father kept his job, and she continued her schooling.

Her family not only survived the worst economic disaster in American history, they found ways to succeed. No, Lange’s life is not a horror story or cautionary tale. She remembers the chaos, fear, and

doubt — though little of it was hers. She remembers the stoicism and determination that followed — though it belonged more to her parents. She was too young to grasp the financial burden of an unstable economy, and too insulated by her parents to suffer it. Yet, despite being little more than a spectator, Lange believes the lessons of her youth are of paramount importance to Americans today.

When Lange describes her father, her eyes become distant and her tone becomes reverent. Mercier’s mother died when he was just 2 years old. It wasn’t a man’s job to take care of children then, so his father placed him in a boarding school. Poor treatment and neglect motivated Mercier, a native of The Dalles, Oregon, to run away at the age of 11. He wandered along the Columbia River and down into the Willamette Valley, living off what he could find or steal and dodging men sent on horseback to return him home.

After a year of running, Mercier was worn down, weak, and desperate for help. He then took a chance and knocked on the door of a German couple’s home. It was an experience that would define the rest of his life, Lange

A big pot of tomato-based soup is one of the best options if you’re in a financial pinch. This can be accomplished easily with very few inexpensive ingredients.

photo

Maren Fawkes

RECIPE: Depression Soup

48 flux 2009

by

FLUX Editors

Melt a few pats of butter in a large saucepan and add any variety of diced vegetables. Let the vegetables cook until softened, then add a few cups of stock and tomato sauce. Then, bring the mix to a boil and thicken to your desired consistency with the addition of a flour-and-water solution. This tomatovegetable soup can be flavored any number of ways with any spices you have available.

says, and subsequently her own. They took him in, fed him a bowl of soup, and allowed him to work in exchange for shelter. Mercier wouldn’t leave for the next seven years.

After the Depression struck in 1929, Mercier looked for any opportunity to pass on the favor. Driven by the indebtedness her father felt toward his German caretakers,

Happiness lies not in the mere possession of money; it lies in the joy of achievement.

Lange says “Mercier” became a household name throughout her tight-knit community.

He fought to protect the jobs of the men he supervised at Southern Pacific Railroad, and none of his employees lost theirs. He drove to El Monte, California, to pick up extra produce that farmers couldn’t sell, which the family separated into bags and gave to the hungry. He also converted his home into a soup kitchen.

As the crisis worsened in the early thirties, unemployed men poured into Southern California looking for work, which, Lange laments, didn’t exist. When more and more hungry men began appearing at their back door, Mercier gave his daughter the responsibility of delivering soup. “He thought it would be good training for me,” she explains. “We felt very, very badly and very sadly, because we knew that when people jumped out of windows, it’s because they feel they’ve lost everything.”

Mercier also revealed to his children one major effect of the Depression. On a Sunday, with what little gas remained

high seats in the temple of our civilization,” Roosevelt said. “We may now restore that temple to the ancient truths. The measure of the restoration lies in the extent to which we apply social values more noble than mere monetary profit. Happiness lies not in the mere possession of money; it lies in the joy of achievement, in the thrill of creative effort. The joy and moral stimulation of work no longer must be forgotten in the mad chase of evanescent profits. These dark days will be worth all they cost us if they teach us that our true destiny is not to be

ministered unto but to minister to ourselves and our fellow men.”

Lange fears things will get worse before they get better. She fears for her two daughters and many more grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She worries that Americans had too much to begin with. If things get worse, her experience indicates the only option will be to share as she did — something she feels will be difficult for some. To survive, Lange knows Americans must stick together.

- Jonathan Stull

Maren Fawkes

amid economic crisis, one woman remembers a time when things were much worse — and reminds us of what’s important

in their car, he drove the family to San Bernardino, California. There, a city park had transformed into a Hooverville, with improvised tents, sleeping bags, and the bare minimum of living conditions. “It was pretty rough,” Lange describes. “It seemed like the children were running loose, and it kind of bothered me because I was taking care of my brother. It didn’t look like they could be eating right or anything.”

As Lange grew older, she realized how blessed she was the more she discussed the Depression with others. Her father’s example and lessons have been helpful all her life, and her involvement in her own community mirrors the contribution her father made. She is engaging and generous, eloquent and sincere. She believes that a strong sense of connection to others isn’t taught today. Reflecting on the resiliency and resourcefulness of her father, she emphasizes themes like togetherness, respect, solidarity, cooperation, and goodwill. All are themes she fears could be absent as the United States copes with its current economic crisis. Attitudes are different. The world is bigger. Americans have, and want, more than ever.

While the unemployment rate has exceeded 8 percent in the United States in 2009, it’s still only a fraction of what it was eighty years before. Government intervention has been quicker and more informed, as well. The current crisis may not amount to the horrors of the decade after 1929, but the first ten years of the new millennium have forced Americans such as Lange to reflect on how far they’ve come — and realize how much they’ve forgotten in the process.

It’s been a long time since Lange’s family gathered around that homemade radio in March of 1933, but Roosevelt’s first inaugural address is just as relevant today.

“The money changers have fled from their

photo

timeless lessons

Marcella May Lange, now 89, lived through the Great Depression. flux.uoregon.edu 49

beginnings Features endings

a personal essay

illustration

David Zavertnik

lust in translation hen asking a guy out on a date, it helps to speak his language.

I don't mean having similar iTunes libraries or sharing a passion for obscure literature. I'm talking about talking.

If you think your sweaty palms and nervous chatter are embarrassing in English, try mustering the courage to say "Hi. I've been checking you out for months. How about joining me for an aperitif?" In Italian.

It's a sweltering afternoon in early September when I first meet Egidio, the clerk at my host university's bookstore. My friend Liz and I swear we've met the physical incarnation of a Michelangelo painting.

With his curls of chin-length hair bouncing off a jawline a Renaissance sculptor couldn't have chiseled, I half-expect him to produce a lute and serenade me. One "Ciao, bello," and I'm smitten. I've found the man who will sweep me away on a Vespa to lazy afternoons sipping limoncello and lusty nights swimming in the Trevi Fountain. I just have to ask.

But, despite two years of language classes, all I can do is splutter, “G-g-good afternoon, wh-what’s your n-n-name?” in broken phrasebook Italian. Somehow, he understands my mangled attempt at an introduction and coolly answers, as if he's used to nervous American exchange students making passes at

him, "Mi chiamo Egidio, e tu?" My mind goes as blank as my stare, and he notices. "How do you say, ehh, what eez your name?" he translates in a thick accent. I manage to stop drooling long enough to fumble a response and compensate by buying more copies of Dante's Inferno than a literary scholar would know what to do with. I then slink out of the bookstore in defeat, ignoring Liz's insistences that "he was totally flirting with you."

After two weeks, my Italian has progressed — with a considerable amount of sweat and tears on the part of my maestra. I've got a brand new pair of Prada loafers, and Dante has reached the center of Hell — I want to know what happens next. So, one particularly sunny Thursday morning, I gulp down my usual espressoplus-two-sugar-packets and make my way back to the bookstore, trying my best not to skip down the cobblestone street outside my flat. Today, Egidio has his hair pulled back in a ponytail. Is it just me, or are his cheekbones higher?

I approach the counter, and suddenly my confidence escapes faster than a schoolboy from a ruler-wielding nun. I inquire after the shelf on which I can find Dante's Purgatorio and hope he will forgive my affinity for butchering his beautiful language. After some small talk punctured by not-so-small awkward silences, I thank him for his help and make my exit. At least

my grazie no longer rhymes with Yahtzee.

The spring in my step is gone as I trudge back home, furious with myself. Why do I choke every time I gaze into those chocolate gelato-colored eyes? Sure, Egidio always greets me with a wink and a kiss on each cheek; that's just Italian hospitality at its finest — and sexiest.

But later, as I prepare to rejoin Dante on his epic journey, I discover a sticky note attached to the book’s back cover. A series of numbers is scrawled across it. My heart skips like I'm back on the cobblestones. A phone number?

It seems Egidio, my Italian futurehusband, has made the first move toward our dreamy life together. Our dolce vita will put Federico Fellini’s to shame. After all, it's the correct number of digits: It must be his phone number. I follow modern communication protocol and send him a text message.

Five hours go by. No response.

Discouraged, I pick the book back up, ready to drift asleep among lines of five-hundredyear-old romantic poetry. Suddenly, a series of all-too familiar numbers catch my eye from beneath a print of an old fresco on the book’s cover.

The same number of digits as on the sticky note. A bar code? Not a phone number.

Weeks pass, but neither weekend train rides to Florence nor trying to keep straight the differences between Romanesque and Renaissance architecture have helped me forget Egidio. Finally, the day of reckoning comes. Liz, tired of explaining she doesn't know why my Italian experience doesn't resemble that of Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun, drags me back to the bookstore, one last time. "Just do it,” she says. “Have some palle" (one of Italy's most beloved words, meaning balls).

Egidio sees me come in and flashes me a grin and his familiar wink. My knees experience their familiar wobbliness. The bookstore is busy today, so I decide to wait at the back of the line — I'm not jumping at the chance to make a fool out of myself in front of an audience. One by one, the customers (or, more likely, fellow admirers) exit, until only I and a man I presume is a local student remain. My palms turn clammy and suddenly I feel as though Dante is nothing but a big whiner — the Inferno can't have been any hotter than this tiny shop feels at the moment. But, just as I start kicking myself for leaving my phrasebook at home, I come to a realization: I don't need it.

As it turns out, there's nothing like having a crush on someone for mastering a second language. I've navigated vast seas of vocabulary, scaled treacherous grammatical heights, and finally learned to speak Italian — all in the name of lust.

Granted, being able to order pizza without a friend’s help might have been part of it. But if it wasn’t for Egidio, I'm sure I would have never learned the all-important distinction between the pronunciation of penne (a tube-shaped pasta) and pene (a tube-shaped body part).

Finally, I’m confident enough to win a date with my Latin dreamboat. Emboldened by this epiphany, I turn my attention back to my surroundings. The man in front of me is deep in conversation with Egidio. I notice his hair could stand to be washed, and his definitely-not-Armani cologne could stand to be poured down a drain. I also observe that the two men's conversation seems unsettlingly like the one I've envisioned between Egidio and myself. I pick up words such as "dinner," "drinks," "dancing," and "tonight."

No. This isn't happening.

I watch and listen in disbelief. I’m seconds from victory and the trophy is being

snatched from under my fingertips. Even worse, Egidio, the Romeo to my Juliet, is totally buying it — he's going out with this greasy-haired stronzo. I'm ready to chalk up the past three months as a complete waste and never show my face in Italy again, when I catch myself. Maybe all the effort hasn't been in vain — maybe Dante could still reach Paradise.

It's my turn. I walk up to the counter and ask, with flawless grammar and pronunciation, "Dov'è si trova il libro Paradiso di Dante?" Egidio's perpetual composure is momentarily broken — he stammers as he points to the correct shelf.

Minutes later, I'm back on the cobblestones, book in hand and a grin on my face. I may not be in Paradise, but I'm certainly not in Hell.

And, even though I'm still dateless, my Italian is practically perfect.

- Andrew Edwards

flux.uoregon.edu 51

photo

Rebecca Ames

beginnings Features endings

Pure Romance consultant Patty Marmann entertains a group of women at a passion party in Eugene, Oregon.

mixing business with pleasure sexanomics • The Cincinnati Business

Courier selected Pure Romance for the “Fast 55 Awards” in 2008, for the fourth consecutive year, recognizing it as one of the fastest-growing most successful businesses in Cincinnati.

• Pure Romance’s revenue in 2007 was $81 million.

• In 2008, both Pure Romance and Slumber Parties were recognized by Inc. Magazine as among the five thousand fastest-growing private companies in America.

Women across the nation are realizing that the in-home sex product party business is a great way to earn extra income. With Pure Romance, consultants make anywhere from 35 to 45 percent of total retail sales — meaning an average profit of $25,000 to $30,000 per year. Pure Romance consultant Patty Marmann did the math and left her almost twentyyear career as a trauma nurse last October to start on a new path as an intimacy expert.

Look online for the full story, “Mixing Business With Pleasure,” as well as information about two companies who provide this service: Pure Romance and Slumber Parties. Additionally, you can find a video about the Pure Romance consulting process and take the quiz: “Discover Your Inner Sex Toy.” – FLUX Editors

52 flux 2009

online feature

As Marmann watched the Pure Romance representative walk out the door with almost $500 in her pocket, she saw serious earning potential. So she put on her big-girl panties and got going.

$6.00 University of Oregon School of Journalism and Communication

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