phoebe.magazinespring2009

the face of a soldier one family’s contribution to national defense

mild abandonment new threads, burlington style

hip-hop hooray:

burlington’s thriving music industry

letter from the editors As with our first issue, phoebe. seemed easy enough to put together. Beginners luck maybe...

This time around, the challenges we faced were different.

With most of our original editorial board scattered across the country and the world, all we had left was a small group of people still in Burlington who were ready to pour the sweat and tears necessary to bring a new phoebe. into the world.

But, as with issue number one, the enthusiasm and excitement around phoebe. was impossible to ignore.

Burlington – and all of Vermont -- is a place that

gushes with creative minds and energy. phoebe. is here to showcase some of the people, places and groups that we think make our home so completely and utterly cool.

Yours truly,

Bobby Bruderle

Molly Shaker

editorial staff Bobby Bruderle likes taking pictures and making magazines with his friends. Currently he attends the University of Vermont and studies business for reasons that remain mysterious. He still does not like writing blurbs abut himself.

danielle diarbakerly loves Vermont, but grew up in Mass. She is an English major who loves writing and her puppy, Kaiser.

Her favorite food is Coca Cola and she owns nearly 30 pairs of jeans but wears the same ones every day.

molly shaker is a 2008 graduate of UVM. She has a profound love for Frank Costanza, making self-aware hip-hop references and the color black.

In her spare time, she enjoys listening to the Wu-Tang Clan and Steely Dan.

avery mcintosh is from the small town of Millwood, Virginia, where she likes to hang with her buddies while fishing on the the mighty Shenandoah River. She enjoys eating chips and watching Looney Tunes. When she grows up she wants to be a truck driver.

jason gold was born in the hillside of New York State.

He is the younger of two children, enjoys photographing small woodland creatures and rare wild flowers.

He enjoys ironically riding his BMX bike around Burlington with his CRÜE of ironic BMX enthusiasts.

stacey apple is a ukulele playing, vegan, flower child.

joanna benjamin is a dress-loving newspaper junkie who loves reading Jane Austen novels. it should be noted that if you get in the way of her cooking, you might never make it out of the kitchen alive — so don’t even try.

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Bobby Bruderle Art Director & Managing Editor Molly Shaker Editorial Director Jason Gold Web Director & Art Consultant Danielle Diarbakerly Features Editor Joanna Benjamin Layout Editor Avery McIntosh/Stacey Apple Fashion Editors Jake Mink/Colette shade Copy Editors CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS: Lauren Goldstein, Ian THoMAS Jansen-Lonnquist, Andre Malerba, Cooper Marshall, Ben Sarle, CONTRIBUTING WRITERS: Teddy Abraham, Jessica Bartlett, Henry Bond, Myra Flynn, Katia Kleyman, Cooper Marshall, Sara Nesson, Jessica Sanders, Tyler Winsor MODELS: myra flynn, JAKE MINK, mckenzie rollins

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contents

5 8 10 12 14 18 20 22 25 26 28 30 32 34 44 46

4

a violent irony

the lovely ladies of the derby dames

hip-hop hooray surviving seoul

burlington’s thriving music scene

temporary ex-patriotism in Korea

writing on the wall lost and found

graffiti artist chile bombs away

one of Sudan’s lost boys shares his story

all in a day’s work

migrant workers and the Vermont dairy industry

jewel of the queen city the face of a soldier

elizabeth mead sightler’s one-of-a-kind jewelry

the rozman family’s contributions to the Israeli defense forces

a photobooth worth 1,000 words still ridin’ high

a snap shot of speaking volumes’ photobooth

big john of ridin’ high skate shop

a BrandNEW way of thinking queen city timepieces Iraq paper scissors mild abandonment

BrandNEW Clothing adds a spark to burlington’s creative scene

three places that have stood the test of time

a documentary that turns pain, grief and hell into art fashions make their way to one of chittenden county’s hidden treasures

house party vermont’s troupe of drag queen sisters a practical guide

a violent irony the lovely ladies of the Derby Dames 5

A far cry

from Roller Derbies in the ‘70s, the Green Mountain Derby Dames skate harder, move faster and like to play rough.

Started in 2007, the Dames are the only roller derby group in Vermont, with Vermont being the last state to get a roller team.

“I believe it was just a group of girls who had a lot of spare time and they wanted to do something real physical,” said Sarah Neeth, aka Blizkrieg Dominique, one of the dames on the team.

But is it popular?

“It’s getting there,” Neeth said.

It’s easy to see why. Set to a background accompaniment of what could only be described as war drums, these dames skate with authority. Whether it’s a hip check or body check, the only thing stopping these girls is another skater or the ground.

Although fairly new in Vermont, skating has become a well-known sport, with over 300 teams nationally. Currently, the Dames are striving to become a part of the roller derby competition league, called Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA). The bouts, or tournaments, the Dames play now will hopefully help them with this goal in the future.

“As part of the association, in order to be a WFTDA team, you have to be spon-

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Above: The Silencer showing off the business end of her skate alongside Cockledoux.

Previous Page: Queen Defeat-Yah of the Green Mountain Derby Dames demonstrates a textbook face-plant. sored by another WFTDA team, and you have to apply. We’re trying to build these relationships within this first season, and hopefully next fall, potentially, we could get somebody to sponsor us,” said Paddy Krupp, aka The Silencer.

Their novelty with the sport, however, doesn’t keep them from playing hard.

It is a constantly moving game. Done in shifts of two, the team takes turns skating in what are called “jams.” One player from each team, called the “jammer,” must try to shimmy her way past members of both her own team and the other team, formed in a group ahead of the jammers called a “pack.” The pack’s job is to help their own

teammate through, while inhibiting the other team’s jammer. The three 20-minute periods fly by, and the short track seems a lot longer when skaters have to lap their opponents to score a point.

However, the dames must follow WFTDA rules, meaning no illegal blocking, tripping, pushing, holding, or grabbing. Even chair-throwing is restricted on the rule chart, making one wonder what event caused that specific rule’s creation.

The dames skate by in never-ending circles, slamming into each other, getting tangled up in each other’s limbs, and crashing onto the concrete floor with such force that the subsequent smack can be heard

“This is where you beat the crap out of each other on the rink but once you’re done, you drink beers together. I mean, at the end, we’re all hugging the other team. It’s good sportsmanship. There might be some frustration, you know, if you take a really hard hit, but there’s a lot of camaraderie here.”

— Annie Cockledoux (Robynn Beams) Asst. Captain of the Derby Dames over the announcer’s booming voice.

They take turns in battle, always with a teammate in time-out, nursing bloody noses, bruised backs, and bruised egos on the sidelines.

But the dames wear their injuries with pride. “Bruises are definitely a badge of honor,” said Meredith Gordan, aka: Tofu Torture. “It means that you’re playing the hardest you could possibly play. You put yourself out there, you’re taking risks.”

Their short, revealing green skirts and fishnet tights are almost enough to distract the viewer from the brutality of the sport. Oblivious to the irony of their names as “dames,” the skaters’ bodies seem to take the abuse of what would otherwise be a ball or a puck.

“It’s not a matter of people getting hurt, it’s a matter of when,” the announcer said over the loudspeaker after a particularly brutal fall to the ground from a member of the other team.

Helmets are a necessity, and kneepads a must. Fractured jaws, broken bones, and chipped elbows are all common injuries within the sport.

Some skaters even wear helmets with face-masks, having suffered one too many face-falls to the floor.

Despite the injuries, the dames never give up. “I do it for a love of the sport,” said Susie Andregg, aka Puma Vicious, after having described her recent jaw fracture.

To alleviate some injuries, four-wheel (quad) skates are used instead of in-line ones. “The quad

skates are a lot more stabilized on corners at the speeds we go,” said Mary Katherine Dow, aka Atomic Muffin8her. “[With] the hits that we take, on corners, we’d never be able to stay on our feet on in-line skates. The quads help you take really, intensely fast curves and take a hit and not go down at the same time.”

Although incredibly brutal, teams seem amicable when the clock is not on, apologizing for getting in each other’s way and even helping the other team’s members up from the ground.

“This is where you beat the crap out of each other on the rink but once you’re done, you drink beers together. I mean, at the end, we’re all hugging the other team ... It’s good sportsmanship.

There might be some frustration, you know, if you take a really hard hit, but there’s a lot of camaraderie here,” explained Robynn Beams, aka Annie Cockledoux, the assistant captain of the team.

The skaters come from a variety of backgrounds. Some have skated before with hockey or have skated just as a hobby, and some can still reminisce the time two months prior when even standing

up on skates was a problem.

“Some girls started from not skating, so we’re all at different levels and we all push each other to get there,” Beams said, having personally spent 15 years playing ice hockey.

Despite their diverse experience, one thing the skaters all have in common is a skater name. From Star Slayer to Bruise Control, each skater has a name unique to their own personal background.

Although they walked away from their match limping, each dame was smiling with accomplishment.

With uniforms packed away, and skates in hand, each left to get a beer, eagerly anxious to see the bruises that they would have tomorrow. p words by jessica bartlett photos by ben sarle

From left to right — Puma Vicious, The Atomic Muffin8her and Star Slayer.

5

hip hop h o o r ay

At the top of Church Street, just above the Peace and Justice Center, is a little place called The Lab. Opened in the summer of 2007 by Zack “ZJ the DJ” Johnson and Derrick Brown, The Lab is Vermont’s Turntablism and Urban music production center.

In other words, it’s a school for hip-hop.

In a state where, for many, Phish lyrics might as well be scripture and Ben and Jerry could be the 13th and 14th disciples, it’s somewhat of a shock to know that there’s a school for hip-hop music perched atop the speakers pumping classical music on upper Church Street.

But, if you’re truly in the groove, you’d know that this genre of music is rapidly making its way around our heady city – and that, for a number of locals, turntablism has taken the place of after school piano lessons.

In Burlington, hip-hop music is not dead. In fact, it’s growing.

Since opening in 2007, The Lab has seen over 100 “graduates.” Students, ages 11 to 35, sign up for either DJ or music production lessons, both of which are taught over a six-week period.

Also the co-owner of Lotus Entertainment – a local music booking agency -- Johnson, 27, teaches the DJ lessons, where students learn everything from the history of turntablism (the art of mixing and manipulating beats and sounds on a turntable) to scratching and trick mixing.

The Lab also offers lessons in music production, taught by Brown. Students learn the basics of creating music with Midi controllers and other software instruments.

Johnson, who has been DJing for over 10 years, said that it was actually a Tom Jones record that got him hooked. After turning 16, he saved up all of his money to buy a turntable instead of a car.

“It’s all about experimenting with music,” Johnson said. “The disc is jockeying me. I’m taking other people’s music and mixing it to how I want it to sound.”

But, why is there a place for such a school in Burlington? George Mihaly, 22, who interned at The Lab this spring, suggests that the school’s growing success comes from the education that it provides locals about this particular genre of music, in addition to a constantly evolving inter-

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Previous Page: DJ A-Dog spins at Red Square every Thursday and Saturday night.

Left: One of Burlington’s aspiring graffiti artists at the Four Seasons of Hip-Hop, a party hosted by graduates of The Lab that celebrates the four elements of hip-hop: MCing, DJing, breakdancing, and graffiti.

“When I started messing with the i d e a o f D J i n g , t h e re w a sn ’ t re a l l y a H i p h o p s c e n e h e re , a t l e a st a t t h e d o w n t o w n s p o t s . We w e re a l l t o o y o u n g t o go out a n yw a y s o I t h i n k t h e H i p -h op s c e n e w a s p re t t y un d e r g roun d .”

— DJ A-Dog

est in hip-hop to which Lotus Entertainment continues to give momentum.

“The Lab and Lotus Entertainment have helped educate people about the essence of true Hip-hop culture,” Mihaly said. “The Lab has evolved into a central location for people seeking to network within Burlington’s music and hip-hop scenes.”

Mihaly suggests that hip-hop culture is able to flourish because of Burlington’s size and unique community bonds, as well as our geographical location. With Montreal just to the north and Boston just south, many highly acclaimed artists are easily able to make tour stops in the Queen City.

“Burlington has many talented musical performers with the right type of communication and networking,” he said. “Any one of Burlington’s talented musical artist’s could share the stage with a world-class musical act.”

One of these talented musical acts is Andy Williams – better known as DJ A-Dog. Williams, 33, who spins every Thursday and Saturday night at Red Square on Church

Street, moved to Burlington from St. Albans when he was 18. Since then, he has watched the local hip-hop and DJ scene blossom.

“When I started messing with the idea of DJing, there wasn’t really a hip-hop scene here, at least at the downtown spots,” Williams said. “We were all too young to go out anyway so I think the hip-hop scene was pretty underground.”

Williams said that now nearly every downtown bar and club hosts one or more hip-hop nights.

“There are a ton of kids who are interested in DJing [now] and it wasn’t like that in the past.”

Sumner Williams, otherwise known as DJ Sum1, started taking DJ lessons at The Lab in May of 2008 after buying a turntable two years ago.

“I didn’t have any idea how to do anything with it,” Sumner, 16, said. “I went into Steez and asked Jordan, the owner, if he knew anybody who gives lessons and he gave me Zack’s number. I called him right when I got home.”

DJ Sum1 has been hooked ever since.

Having done gigs at parties, rail jams and even the grand opening of Damsels in Burlington, Sumner credits The Lab for inspiring him to pursue his interest in hip-hop and DJing.

“I really look up to hometown heroes and people who really stay true to what they began with but also people who are really focusing on the idea that hip-hop is something to be proud of,” he said.

This is really the crux of it all: hip-hop is just another outlet for creativity, and with the help of places like The Lab and organizations like Lotus Entertainment, Burlington is really feeling the beat.

“A lot of people give hip-hop a bad reputation,” Johnson said. “hip-hop started with inner city kids just trying to have fun and escape. We’re trying to spread that message not only in Burlington, but all over Vermont.” p words by molly shaker photos by jason gold

9

S

urviving eoul Why would somebody choose to leave behind everything and everyone they know in order to fly halfway around the world to live and work in a country whose native people don’t even use the same alphabet?

This thought crosses my mind as I stand tightly packed in a train underneath a city of 12 million people who look drastically different from me. The city is Seoul, the country is South Korea, the month is March of 2009, and I’m feeling comfortably out of place, like an adult who gets to sit at the kids’ table on Thanksgiving. Except, instead of kids, I’m surrounded by Koreans, most of whom are too busy looking at their phones to notice the random white guy standing a few feet away.

Two young girls wearing high school uniforms sit in front of me, leaning towards each other and sharing ear buds that are connected to a neon pink iPod. They notice me. I can tell by the occasional glances, giggles, and whispers. Behind them, I can see the Han River as our train crosses one of the 19 bridges in the city.

From this view, Seoul looks dark, darker than a city this size should look, at least. Giant apartment complexes ranging in color from off-white to beige line the river, lit dimly. The Seoul Tower shines brightly in the distance as it stretches 1500 feet into the night sky atop Namsan Mountain, the city’s defacto center.

I’m on my way to the Kongkuk University area, a popular spot for Koreans loaded with restaurants, bars, and DVD rooms where, after midnight, you’re more likely to find drunk hookups than film buffs. Sangryuel, a Korean friend of mine who attends Kongkuk University, has invited me out to

join him and a friend for dinner.

When I arrive at the station, I follow the mass of people down the stairs and into the neon spasm of Seoul after dark. I make my way down a side street, weaving through a sea of young couples and laughing friends. I check my phone once again to make sure I remember Sangryuel’s directions. “Walk straight until you see a 7-11. Take a left after that and walk until you see a restaurant called . Take another left and the restaurant is about 10 meters down, just past a bar called Woodstock.” This is about the only way to find anything in Seoul, since most streets don’t even have names.

Once I pass Woodstock (the fifth bar named Woodstock I’ve seen in Seoul), I walk into a typical Korean Barbeque place, instantly hit with an olfactory mixture of cigarettes and charcoal. Groups of college-age people sit closely around tables packed tightly together. Every table in the restaurant has at least two bottles of soju, a Korean liquor made from sweet potatoes.

To say that soju is Korea’s national liquor is an understatement. According to an article in KBS published in 2007, the average Korean adult consumes about 90 bottles of soju per year.

Much to my delight, Sangryuel pours me a shot as soon as I squeeze into my seat. “Gambae!” we say as our glasses clink. And we’re off. Raw meat (chicken, beef, or pork) sizzles on a charcoal grill set up in the middle of the table. The meat is the main course, but like any Korean meal, there are multiple side dishes.

Once the meat is fully cooked, everyone digs in. The best way to eat Korean barbeque is to grab a piece of meat with your chopsticks and wrap

Left: Walking down a narrow side-street in Myeong-dong, one of Seoul’s most popular and vibrant shopping districts.

Next Page: A bridge over the Han River leading to Oksu-Dong.

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it in a piece of lettuce, along with any other food on the table – garlic, onions, kimchi, various sauces.

Then, just pop the whole thing in your mouth and repeat until satisfied. We all reach over each other, snatching food with metal chopsticks, while never forgetting that allimportant glass of soju sitting in front of us.

The traditional Korean meal is one of my favorite parts of life in Korea, and also one that reveals a lot about the country’s culture, specifically when compared to that of America. Typically, a meal in Korea is always shared.

Multiple dishes are ordered and you take a little bit of everything.

Compare this to the average American restaurant experience, where most people order individually and generally only taste another’s meal upon request or if offered. Koreans, in general, identify as part of a group, while Americans prefer individualism.

This difference in culture can also be seen in a person’s name – Koreans go by family name first, given name second, while Americans do the opposite.

Discovering subtle differences like this are part of what makes living in a foreign city so fascinating. Coming to Seoul after calling Burlington home for four years was a strange and somewhat frightening experience. Upon arrival, I was so excited just to be somewhere new, that I never really considered the fact that this was going to be my home for the next year.

Soon, what had once felt so fresh and different became routine and commonplace. It was at this time that I was hit with reality: no more walks to Church Street filled with familiar faces. No more Grilled Chicken Pesto sandwiches from City Market. And no more Duff Hour at Three Needs — you’d be surprised how much that one hurt.

Everyone who spends a significant amount of time abroad goes through this period, often referred to as the ‘post-honeymoon phase’ – when everything is no longer new and exciting.

Once you get over the initial reality check, though, is when everything begins to fit into place. Now, eight months later, I gladly call Seoul my home. I have my favorite parks, fa-

What had once felt so fresh and dif ferent became routine and commonplace.

It was at this time that I was hit with reality: no more walks to Church Street filled with familiar faces. No more Grilled Chicken Pesto sandwiches from City Market.

And no more Duf f Hour at Three Needs — you’d be surprised how much that one hurt. vorite restaurants, and favorite local haunts – just like in Burlington.

Only, you won’t be finding any Trout River or Switchback in Seoul. Comparing the two cities is almost impossible for obvious reasons.

Under the surface however, there are a few commonalities, especially when it comes to clothing. Plaid is very much a staple of the K-hipster look – a fact that made me feel right at home (though my flannel shirts are “not that cool” according to my Korean friends).

Much of Korea’s hipster fashion seems like a melting pot of the Western-style bohemian look and the quirkiness of Tokyo.

But, as with most things, Koreans know how to borrow the best of other cultures and

make it their own.

Like much of Asia, Korea struggles with balancing recent economic and cultural westernization with the traditions and customs that have been in place for centuries.

Seoul is a perfect representation of this struggle. On the surface, the city is a massive sprawl of high-rise apartment complexes and corporate skyscrapers.

Underneath that however, in the neighborhoods and personal spaces of the city’s residences, is where you find the true culture of Korea. p

words and photos by cooper marshall

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writing

on the

wall

F rom s cri bbl ed tags o n s treet s ig n s to the bl ac k a n d white movie star mura l o n t he Merrill’s Roxy Cinem a , B urlington is blanketed i n l o c a l t a lent.

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Scattered amongst the urban landscape that dominates the city, the graffiti, or “graffs,” are hard to miss. Whether you view them as art that brings light to an otherwise drab wall, or as vandalism that epitomizes a reckless disregard, graffiti is a familiar backdrop all over Burlington.

For serious graffiti artists, often referred to simply as “writers,” graffiti is more than just art or vandalism. It’s a subculture, a routine; a road to immortality and quite often an addiction. For graffiti artist “Chile,” it’s life.

Chile, 28, has claimed many surfaces of Burlington and beyond. His tag -- a stylized personal signature and artist’s identity -- appears relentlessly in some of the most highly trafficked areas of town.

Some of his more elaborate pieces can be seen on train cars, underpasses and roof top walls.

A self-described urban terrorist, his road to becoming a graffiti artist is as interesting as the work he produces.

Chile, a moniker he mustered up because it’s quick to write, grew up just outside of Boston, in Cambridge. In his youth he would take the T into the city where he would hang out with friends, steal hood ornaments, mess with mailboxes and generally disturb the peace.

At 12, he was arrested.

“My parents kind of lost it at that point,” Chile said.

“They thought sending me away from the city would help so they sent me to boarding school in the woods of New Hampshire.”

It was in this new boarding school environment that he found an interest in photography and the visual arts. His life was gaining direction and he was doing well academically.

In 1999, as a high school senior, Chile traveled to South Africa to study. It was in Cape Town that Chile’s eyes were opened to graffiti.

“It was everywhere,” he said.

“There were AIDS awareness pieces and political messages from apartheid. It sparked something in my head and I started to experiment with writing.”

Having had a fulfilling African experience and a new passion for graffiti, Chile returned to New Hampshire to finish school. He was accepted at the University of Vermont where he would study art and english.

“I still couldn’t draw a paper bag, but in drawing class I met a guy called ‘Sent’ who did a lot of graffs around town. He saw me messing around with writing,” Chile said. “He encouraged me to keep at it. I faced a choice: I could either keep practicing and get good, or give up.”

He decided to get good.

After years of practicing simple letters and developing a steady hand, Chile graduated to tagging out--of--the--way underpasses and alleys.

With continued encouragement from some of Burlington’s original and most respected graffiti artists such as “Tank,” “Sen”’ and “Sag,” Chile began creating some serious pieces. He was part of the AX and RB painting crews, which, as he explained, are basically groups of friends and artists from all over the country that paint together and feed off of each other’s unique styles.

“I was rolling with some talented guys but Sag was kind of an iconic figure to me. He was from Staten Island, working at IBM during the day and doing amazing pieces at night,” Chile said. “He brought that city flavor to Burlington and did great color pieces with a great style.

He made me realize that this could be a legitimate hobby.”

The inspirational Sag created a monster in Chile who began painting as much as possible. He was constantly looking for a new surface to cover. The more he did, the more he loved it and the harder it became to stop.

“It’s an addiction. I had no money. I stole my paint and

stayed out all night doing graffs,” he said. “I was arrested for vandalism and I could not stop. The media has glamorized it [graffiti writing] lately but really this has stemmed from gang culture. We are not really savory individuals. Most of us do this because we have nothing else to depend on.”

Chile was living a double life. By day, he was a studio art major sketching landscapes and by night he was a graffiti junky, coveting a blank wall in the darkness.

“I love the rush that comes from having an idea on a sketch pad, finding a perfect spot, getting it done and then seeing it the next day and thinking, ‘that looks sick and I did it,’” Chile said. “I’ve seen pictures online of my pieces on trains all over the country. It’s an incredible feeling to know that someone liked something of mine so much that they put it online. It makes you want to keep doing it. It starts to dictate your life.

It chooses your friends and your next move.”

After graduating from UVM in 2005, Chile took a job as a snowboard shop manager in Stowe, Vermont. But working from nine in the morning to five at night wasn’t for Chile.

He wanted travel, adventure and paint. He quit after four seasons.

Since then, Chile has been going where the graffiti takes him. He has been all over the country staying with friends and other graffiti artists.

“Friends that I went to school with have legitimate jobs and families, I’m still doing graffs and delivering pizza.”

What Chile does have, though, is a public exhibit of his passion. It covers underpasses, bridges and walls from Vermont to Oregon, and will be on display for a long time.

“Graffiti speaks to the human condition; the desire to make something more beautiful. To bring color and art into places where there are none -it’s become my life for better or worse.” p words by ty winsor photos by bobby bruderle

Previous Page: Chile, standing next to one of his tags, looks out for security guards in a Boston train yard.

Right: Chile throws his tag up his name in downtown Boston.

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lost and found

Five-year-old Atem Deng and the boys of his small Sudanese village set out under the glaring subSaharan sun to drive their cattle to the Nile.

A typical day was transformed in an instant, when the Janjaweed militia reduced his village to cinders, and drove Atem Deng and his companions on a treacherous two-month journey to Ethiopia.

These child nomads joined up with thousands of other “lost boys� who were forced from their homes and separated from their families. Those who survived the trek to Ethiopia were violently expelled after four years by an unwelcoming government and were forced to seek refuge across the Nile in Kenya.

Kakuma refugee camp is where Atem spent nine years before he was relocated to Burlington in 2001.

The transition was difficult, but he found support in an inviting community. With new found friends behind him, Atem was determined to better the lives of children in his home nation by creating the New Sudan Education Initiative (NESEI).

this is his story‌ 15

phoebe. magazine: Could you tell me about your experiences in Sudan as a refugee? What did you have to face and deal with in a typical day?

Atem Deng: I went through so many adventures since I was five years old.

In my country, we have typical duties. I started to take care of the big cows, drive them from home to where they can graze and get some water in the Nile, [near] where we lived.

While doing that, my village was being attacked by the Arab militia. That is the same militia that is dealing with Darfur.

Our village was burned down. All the parents run to different directions. I ran with a young group.

“One of my friends was shot right in front of me.

I thought he was just tired so I tried to grab his hand.

Another boy come and grabbed my hand and pulled me and said ‘don’t you see he’s dead?’

That’s the first time I hear the word ‘dead.’”

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How many were with you?

There was a lot, always tending the cows, you know, in that village. It turned to be huge — a lot of young people, young boy, young man and old people.

There were already thousands and thousands of people, when we arrived and from there it tookabout two months to reach Ethiopia.

The only safe place was to go to Ethiopia.

Wow, how did all of you manage the journey?

While we were running there, we didn’t know that we’re going to Ethiopia, just [to a place] where we can be safe and hiding, hoping that in the morning we will be back home.

Now it’s like, everywhere. In the sky you can see helicopters with guns searching for us and we keep hiding, and hiding, and hiding.

We can hear the gun after us.

Everyday would be like this?

It was really bad. [There was] no food that you can eat, no water that you can drink; no time to take a shower.

And anytime you cross the Nile you get attacked by crocodiles.

And [it was] the same thing at night with lion attack and other animals, like hyenas.

Did you lose any friends?

One of my friends was shot right in front of me.

I thought he was just tired so I tried to grab his hand.

Another boy come and grabbed my hand and pulled me and said ‘don’t you see he’s dead?’

That’s the first time I hear the word ‘dead’.

What happened when you finally reached Ethiopia?

We thought that was a safe haven. But we just went there abruptly.

No one was taking care of us. So, we always stayed under the tree. When it rain, it just rain on you.

It take some time for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) to come and assess the living situation.

Food was brought, some classes was offered to start…, ‘a, b, c, d…a, b, c, d’. We were there for four years.

While the government was negotiating with the UNHCR, the government just send the troops and attack the refugee camp.

Just like that.

So the government come overnight, and circle the river….and in the morning they just shoot everywhere.

“My dad was by himself for the last 17 years and my mom was also by herself. M y younger sister was abducted. She was taken to Katu and when the peace was signed she was released by the slavery masters.

It was something you cannot prepare for; something that I cannot for get.”

There was nowhere to go unless you jump in the river, and the river was overflowed with crocodiles.

But everyone was just jumping into the water.

We went through the same run: hide in daytime, walk overnight and back to Kenya where we lived for the last nine years.

You were 19 when you came to Burlington.

That must have been a huge transition.

A lot of community members and churches were ready to help us — teaching us the language, helping out with homework, find jobs, and shop for groceries.

It was very cold.

How did you like your first winter here?

Oh, it was horrible.

I was sick all the time.

I didn’t like it at all. I was kind of outdoor person.

So, when it was winter, you know, keeping all these heavy clothes, it’s not my style.

Every time that summer comes I forget.

I think I don’t need warm clothes so I throw them away and when winter comes I’m like “oh, I don’t have that.”

You started NESEI in 2006 in response to the incredibly low access to education in Sudan.

In May 2007 and September 2008 you received two grants totaling $500,000.

In May 2008, you opened your first school near Yei, Sudan.

Your organization has seen incredible success within just two years.

What were some of the difficulties you faced getting your project off the ground?

When we started the goal was to build 20 schools in Sudan.

There are a lot of issues now because of the economic downturn but when we started, it was very successful.

How did you spread knowledge of the organization?

I started as the result of reuniting with my parents in Uganda.

Our aim was go into the state and tell them “this is what we want to do; this is what our people want us to do; we need to help them build an education so they don’t go through what we went through.”

Anywhere we go, we found there was a lot of connection there between Sudanese community and American community.

What was it like seeing your parents for the first time in 15 years?

It was unbelievable.

You cannot imagine being separated from your parents when you were five.

Could they recognize you after all that time?

No. I didn’t recognize them, too.

It was really unbelievable because that was the first time that entire family was reunited.

My dad was by himself, for the last 17 years and my mom was also by herself.

My younger sister was abducted. She was taken to Katu, and when the peace was signed she was released by the slavery masters.

It was something you cannot prepare for; something that I cannot forget.

The school you organized in Yei is an all girls school. Why all girls?

Girl education is very important.

Sudanese believe in the boy as the head of the family; the future of the whole family.

They don’t believe that a girl could be the future of the family. And the country is very closeminded on HIV. The big part of this school is health education: if a girl knows how to protect, that will help the country.

If the mother is educated, then she will have the skills she needs to raise a child.

That will be the future of the nation. p interview by katia kleyman photo by lauren goldstein

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all in a day’s work

migrant workers and the Vermont dairy industry

F

or Louis Sanz*, the word “relief ” is one that should only be applied sparingly.

A migrant from Mexico to Vermont, he works as a dairy farmer, struggling everyday with limited access to health care and the constant threat of police.

Willingness to assist in the lifestyle of dairy farm migrants occurs seldom. However, twice each month particular community members of Addison County — an area 30 minutes outside Burlington — sponsor a gathering for migrants, including Sanz.

Each gathering is an opportunity for reverence and for the migrants to appreciate what little gifts they posses. Today’s gathering lands on a Saturday; but for a workforce that operates nearly everyday without rest, it’s a close enough comparison to the Sabbath.

Set anonymously, the gathering is a safe haven. Even at the onset, the space reveals

nothing unusual. Merely tables lined up for brunch — paper plates, no placemats — and a blue Addison County sky to fill several windows, it is a modest room with few decorations.

Sanz is standing in the corner of the room. He flaunts a new and shiny blue jacket with fur trim — another gesture of community courtesy.

“We feel grateful when someone helps because we know that not just anyone would do it,” he said.

Pristine and bearing an uncanny resemblance to a police uniform, his jacket takes its place among the innumerable ironic twists that are the basis of year-long migratory dairy farm labor and lifestyle in Vermont.

Because little is known about the migrants, little effort has been taken in past years to improve their circumstances. Migrants have been streaming into Vermont

“ You have two hearts — o n e w h i c h t akes you where you n e e d t o g o , a nother which you leav e b e h i n d .

I wa s living a desperate l i f e a n d a l ways a t the forefront o f m y m i n d w as ‘how can I make m o re m o n e y . ’ F or a year [the i dea] tu r n e d ov e r a nd over in my mind, u n t i l I f i n a l l y d ecid ed to co me. ” — Louis Sanz 18

for decades. It is unfair to say that nothing is known of these individuals who constitute more than 50 percent of the labor for the Vermont dairy farm industry.

Sanz, 30, is average among the population of predominately male dairy farm migrants in Vermont. He arrived in the state just over three years ago — and like many migrants, under difficult conditions.

Work was scarce in Mexico, and even for those who had jobs, the income was negligible. Sanz was essentially forced to leave.

Still, leaving was by no means an easy decision for Sanz, who has a family of his own.

“You have two hearts — one which takes you where you need to go, another which you leave behind,” Sanz said. “I was living a desperate life, and always at the forefront of my mind was ‘How can I make more money.’ For a year [the idea] turned over and over in my mind, until I finally decided to come.”

But once the decision is made, the process only becomes mre difficult. Immigration officials regularly treat many migrants badly, provided that their passage beyond the border is unsuccessful.

Sanz tells a story of one official who detained a migrant farm worker. Deported back to Mexico after four months in immigration detention, the migrant man did not receive back his Mexican ID and a picture of his family was ripped to shreds.

About 30 migrants have come to today’s gathering. Some simply appreciate the convenience of a free meal, while others feel it their duty to impose specific concerns.

Healthcare is among the largest misnomers that many of the migrants seek to resolve.

As put by Sanz, “health care is ‘faltando,’” or “missing.”

One health concern that takes place on the farms, linked to isolation and limited access to supermarkets, seems to be risk of

illness from poor nutrition. “Preventing illness requires a good diet but for many of the migrants, cookies and soda substitute for the lack of good quality food,” Sanz said.

Once sick, many migrants cannot access healthcare quickly enough. “Since we have no license to drive, transportation can be tricky,” Sanz said. Some migrants even avoid leaving the farm entirely — not just out of fear of police, but also to avoid loss of hourly payment by their employers.

Some employers, who also work long hours on-farm and face their own challenges accessing health care, pose excuses to prevent the hassle of driving. “Oh, we’ll go later,” Sanz said, sarcastically. “I’m too busy.”

Fortunately, for those who manage to find rides, the Open-Door Clinic in Middlebury is a viable solution to needs including basic medical care and initial diagnoses.

“The clinic is useful because it provides

care at either free or low cost, and refers patients for any necessary lab work,” Susannah McCandless, a geography professor at the University of Vermont, said.

On a larger scale, the federal Customs and Immigration Services (CIS) plays a controversial role. “The CIS is highly aware of the migrants’ presence on farms,” McCandless said. “But because the Social Security Administration is driven by profit incentives, they choose not to intervene.”

For most of the migrants, an opportunity to visit home and deliver cash physically is a rare and risky process. Dairy farming in Vermont is year-round system; therefore many of the workers are compelled not to leave.

For now, the need to make migrant farm labor in Vermont a feasible year-long visa category remains a federal issue. Senator Leahy is proposing one such visa. According to Leahy’s Web site, he feels that immigrant work-

ers contribute to the vitality of the American industry.

Persuasion at the federal level is a long, complex process. Nonetheless, certain action can easily be taken to alleviate the migrants’ pain. More people could give the migrants rides to the clinic, or to places such as the grocery store. Providing relief to the migrant workers is not a bad thing for the farming industry either.

According to McCandless, many of the migrants feel incredibly isolated. If they had time to refresh, they could lessen the builtup stress and frustration, which have immediate consequences including exhaustion and poor performance at work.

Yet even mid-winter, when conditions at work are most brutal, a steady sort of tolerance reverberates in the souls of these people, particularly Sanz.

When asked if he saw the relationship between the Greek idiom for patience and that for suffering in his life, Sanz took several moments to consider.

“No,” he said. “For some people, challenges change their character. But for us, we must remain the same — calm, and ‘aguantarlo,’ or ‘able to bear it,’ here [away from home] as long as we can.” p words by henry bond photos by ian thomas jansen-lonnquist

Top of page : Local migrant workers take a midday break on an undisclosed dairy farm.

Above: A migrant dairy worker pauses while milking cows on a local farm .

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jewel of the queen city phoebe. magazine: Why do you choose to work in Elizabeth Mead Sightler traded in the medium you do? painting and printmaking for creating Elizabeth Mead Sightler: I have my bachelor’s degree in studio art and I spent my twenties painting and printmaka different picture all together: babies ing.

After that, my creative endeavors mostly consisted of and a family. But that's not to say that all creating babies and family. Over the last couple years, as I art has been forgotten. In fact, she has have filtered back to what really drives me, I started tinkering with jewelry design at the urging of a favorite aunt.

I have always had a rather large “stash” of jewelry comsimply traded one medium for another. ponents that I would occasionally throw up in the air and Sightler now makes jewelry — unique completely re-work when I needed something new.

Recently, I have realized how personal it can be to dejewelry crafted from vintage buttons, sign jewelry for people in a way that uses their life experito make something long-lasting in genuine. old-fashioned link chains and beautiful encesI really appreciate that the design starts when I meet someone and hear what interests them — and then I start aged resin. It's easy to tell that this thinking about elements, alloys, colors and shapes and Burlington artist is crafting more than just movement.

And there is also a spiritual element to it, where I just have to have faith and trust that if I am being honest about a few must-haves. what I am making, and why I am making it, then it will ultimately come out on point.

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It feels really, really good to finalize a design and make someone really happy. It is a very engaging and personal medium.

What inspires you?

I love actions, movement and grace. And I like stability and contrast.

A design idea usually has to do with a unique drape or texture of a piece of old glass — especially pieces from the Czech Republic.

Currently, I am smitten with Murano glass — made by a small cache of glassblowers in the island of Murano, Italy — as well as historically utilitarian items like small vintage skeleton keys, chains and antique glass and metal buttons.

These pieces seem to carry a shadow of their lives with them and I love to work with them to find their next incarnation.

My family is quirky and are a constant source of inspiration. My father, a lifelong woodsman and teacher recently took up painting and is very good.

He has an incredible attachment to the land, as well as a deep appreciation for the natural world.

He and his wife are resourceful and frugal and I feel their ethic of making do and working hard more and more as I mature.

Is this your only job?

I have worked in the field of Developmental Disabilities for 18 years, and I am still here and don’t expect to ever fully leave this.

So, no, jewelry design is not my only work — but I do consider all art a tangential form of social work. It is a service to society.

I come from a family of ardent, socially conscious artists and that ethic runs though me and helps to shade in and deepen my other interests.

Does art play more or less of a role in society during this recession?

I think that art is a strong element of a healthy society.

I do understand that people cannot expect be as frivolous as in the past – and I also believe that it’s about time we grew up as a society in terms of careless, mindless, irrelevant and compulsive spending.

I see the recent economic overlay as negligent and believe it has nearly obliterated a true sense of value or worth.

In terms of my medium, jewelry is about a personal connection to treasured moments, memories or people and that has very little to do with commerce.

Above: Sightler displays a vintage blown glass bead.

Previous Page: The jeweler sits by her workbench in her home studio.

I make designs that are about the woman I am designing for and I don’t think that kind of personal pride and self-sustenance ever really goes out of vogue.

I think that a recession is a good opportunity to really cull out what is not valuable, and I fully support the idea that handmade, creative arts lend great value to those who wear and admire them.

At this time, with so much weighing in the balance people are looking more for quality, and less for expendable, throwaway items — they want something substantial that will last.

That’s the kind of work I do.

What’s your favorite piece and why?

I was commissioned to design a piece for a woman who lost her mother and her newborn child within months of each other.

No one expected me to come up with something that in any way offset the depth of her suffering -- and it certainly did not — but for me it was a very personal piece given my own experience with the theme of loss.

The pressure to develop something meaningful without being trite was huge.

Feeling my way through that was very inspirational, freeing and therapeutic for me.

I was honored to have the opportunity to work on it and I hope it was something that brought at least a moment of calm or recognition for the woman.

Those sorts of opportunities are rare and being trusted with such a sacred responsibility was humbling.

Who inspires you artistically?

Artists who have a distinct voice interest

me a lot.

I think so many of us are trying to be really clear about our gifts and I love to see when someone has talent, drive, inspiration and a little bit of luck and are really taking full advantage of these.

Poets like Mary Oliver and Pablo Neruda really fill a need in me and are achingly beautiful, but music of almost any style seems to have the most direct line to my heart.

Even though I am a visual artist I cannot imagine the world without music.

Give us one quirky fact about you as an artist.

I have had the good fortune of being able to design items that are relevant for people and suit their style and needs.

I think of it as dowsing for what’s present for them, and then making something ornamental for that. It sounds metaphysical and I am self-conscious about describing it because if it’s done poorly it’s really a very irresponsible way of going about art.

And, I don’t have an investment in always being right or being guided some way without fail. I have made some pretty bad art in almost every medium, (including jewelry — I have made some truly hideous pieces) and I do expect that to continue as I keep pushing and exploring.

It’s one of those things I have to accept and factor in if I want an ultimately dynamic and rewarding career. I have had experiences that are almost ‘unmappable’ and made some really terrific mistakes in this life — so I am pretty well prepared for what comes next. p interview by myra flynn photos by bobby bruderle

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face of a

the

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S

oldier

In a generation that idolizes the glitz and glamour of celebrities like Paris Hilton, Danit Rozman breaks the mold.

Rozman is a straight-faced and down to earth 19-year-old Vermont native, but she is far from the typical Chittenden County teenager. While most high school graduates can look forward to four years of paid debauchery in college, Rozman will not be among them. Following in the footsteps of her older brother Jeremy, Rozman can anticipate six months of rigorous training followed by at least two years of military service.

While such conviction and self-assurance is absent in many young people, understanding Danit’s family sheds light on her dramatic choice. The commitment Rozman has made is, in itself, worthy of recognition.

But what distinguishes Rozman from other young Americans is where she will be serving. Despite being born and raised in Vermont, this Winooski native will not be joining the American Armed Services. She will be going halfway around the world to serve in the Israeli Defense Force.

When you take a closer look at Rozman, her decision is not all that shocking. When asked why she has made this choice, family is the most immediate object she points to in her connection to Israel.

The life of Danit’s father gives strength and justification that is inseparable from her decision. The late Alexander “Sasha” Rozman imparted his children with a love for Israel that is evident in their passionate support.

Rozman understands the importance of a Jewish state better than most, as her father had the misfortune of being born a Jew in Soviet Russia. He endured many challenges as he lived isolated in a deeply anti-Semitic population.

Under the Soviet regime, practicing Judaism was nearly impossible, where state policy deterred many from religious observance. Sasha, however, was not intimidated.

When Rozman’s parents first met, her father was a “rufusenik,” or a member of the Jewish underground movement in Moscow, working to preserve Jewish culture.

It was only a few years later, in 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed that Israel served as a haven to over a million Jews who

Who would think that this Winooski native would be shipping out to fight for a foreign country 5,500 miles away from home?

were in a similar situation as Sasha and several other members of Rozman’s family.

For Rozman, Israel is not as distant as the five thousand miles that separate her from it might imply. Rather, it is a country that her family helped build and the only place that offered her family a home in their time of need. When considering Rozman’s decision to join the Israeli Defense Force, it is hard to overlook the importance of Israel to a family who has seen, firsthand, how unsympathetic our world can be.

Military service is a requirement in Israel but many Jews internationally have answered the call to serve in the Israeli military, as well. One of those individuals is Rozman’s older brother, Jeremy.

Jeremy moved to Israel in 2006 as an 18-year-old American, but over the past 29 months he has been Israelized. Today, it would be tough to know that Sergeant Jeremy Rozman spent the first 18 years of his life in New England. His piercing glare and stoic demeanor reflect his experience in the Israeli Defense Force.

Now, he is a 21-year-old veteran Israeli citizen with the accent and mannerisms to

prove it. Looking back, Jeremy asserts that he has no regrets and even calls himself “fortunate.” He claims his work is deeply significant.

“Armed Jews defending their own country -- I think it’s historic,” he said. “It hasn’t happened in thousands of years.”

Jeremy’s time in Israel has been deeply meaningful to him but also very trying. He has seen considerable action between his time as border patrol along the Gaza Strip and last December’s invasion of Gaza. While Jeremy’s justification for joining the Israeli Defense Force may have been rooted in historic sensibility, ideological issues become less important when facing enemy fire.

Jeremy has felt the close impact of rocket fire and the emotional burdens of combat. He describes the first five days of the invasion as “a living hell.”

“Everyday there was some sort of incident, and you are expecting someone to get injured or killed,” he said.

Amazingly, even while at war Jeremy recalls the lighter moments.

“There was a lot of laughter,” he said.

“You are out there with your brothers and

Danit’s loyalty to the State of Israel is no doubt a family affair. Her mother, Jan Feldman, is both the proud mother and a passionate supporter of Israel herself. Feldman is a PhD in Political Science who splits her time as a professor at UVM and as a Fellow at Harvard University in Boston where the family now resides. Her affection for Israel is personified in her children and can be seen everyday in the Israeli dog tag that always hangs from her neck.

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you feel like what you are doing has a purpose.”

Camaraderie and a connection to the land and people has given Jeremy a more tangible stake in Israel. But, what does he think about his little sister coming to join him in the desert? Despite the dangers of war, Jeremy thinks his sister’s decision is a great one.

“I think it’s a great thing,” he said.

“The warmth and brotherhood in Israel isn’t like anywhere else.”

Danit Rozman’s decision to enlist in the Israeli military was not a reaction to one event but there were certainly key experiences that influenced her choice. The moment that emphatically led her to make her decision final was the day last December that her brother was sent into combat in the Gaza Strip.

“I asked myself what can I do?

I can stay here, watch the news, go to rallies but there’s not much else I can do in America,” Rozman said. “I made my decision that day.”

The weight and finality of her choice may have been a bit startling to some, but to most who know Rozman, it was expected. “Everyone has been very supportive, it’s been a long time coming,” she said.

The sacrifices her father and

brother made certainly set a precedent for Rozman, but since the first time she visited Israel she has been enamored with its majesty. “The first time I visited the Western Wall is something I will never forget.”

Danit spent last year living between the holy cities of Jerusalem and Safed and felt a level of “comfort” in her Jewish identity that she said “isn’t possible anywhere else.”

It is possible that many would have a hard time understanding Danit’s decision. She is an American citizen, born and raised in Vermont and Massachusetts. Some would think there is a conflict of interest in fighting for a foreign country.

According to the Rozman siblings, there is no conflict of interest because both countries have a shared set of goals and values.

“America is the greatest country in the world, by far, but I’m a Jew and my top allegiance will always be for Israel,” Jeremy said. “I think Israel and America’s interests are very similar, so an allegiance to one does not take away from the other. If anything, it is the opposite; it is an allegiance to both.” p words by teddy abraham portrait by bobby bruderle photos courtesy of jan feldman

Danit Rozman’s brother Jeremy displays his machine gun in Israel in an undated photo.

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The Rozman patriarch, Alexander “Sasha” Rozman, poses in an undated photo during his participation in an underground Jewish movement in Soviet Russia.

a photo booth worth 1,000 words Only about 250 model 14 chemical photo booths are left in the United States and Speaking Volumes is the home to one them.

Here’s a snapshot of one of Burlington’s vintage treasures.

In what she called a “moment of insanity,” Näkki Goranin, a local writer and photographer, purchased a vintage photo booth from an unspecified seller in 2003.

And now, this very photo booth -- which is one of only about 250 left in the United States -- has found its home at Burlington’s Speaking Volumes.

After the death of her mother in 1999, Goranin visited Folk Art, an art shop in Bristol, Vt. where she encountered a photo booth.

After hours of taking photos of herself, Goranin had fallen in love with the booth and decided to dedicate herself to learning all that she could about photo booths. She set out on a cross-country road trip to dig up every piece of information she could find about her new fascination.

It was during this trip that Goranin came across a model 14 vintage chemical photo booth that she impulsively purchased.

Gaining fame for her ownership of this rare piece of American cultural history, Goranin was interviewed by an editor for a local Burlington magazine.

During her interview, the editor mentioned to Goranin that she should meet Norbert Ender, owner of Speaking Volumes, a used book and record shop on Pine Street.

The two became fast friends and soon it was decided that Goranin’s photo booth treasure should be kept at Speaking Volumes, along with the shops collection of over 60,000 books and records.

The familial bliss that hovers over Burlington’s vintage photo booth is obvious. It’s as though what was initially just an

impulsive purchase, turned into somewhat of a new member of Goranin and Ender’s families.

Each morning, Goranin visits Speaking Volumes to change the booth’s chemicals and paper – which is shipped all the way from Moscow. But she doesn’t leave without giving her beloved booth a big smooch.

More than anything, Ender suggests that the model 14 booth, that is now a permanent resident at his shop has served as a way of bring different generations together.

It connects the past to the present, all the while allowing its models to experience something retro.

“It revitalizes the old and [is a way of] bringing it all together.” p words by stacey apple photo by jason gold

It’s as though what was initially just an impulsive purchase, turned into somewhat of a new member of Goranin and Ender’s families.

Speaking Volumes owner, Norbert Ender, and photobooth owner, Näkki Goranin, pose in the model 14.

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still riding

high

Entrepreneur and local legend, John Van Hazinga aka “Big John” has been an icon for longboard skateboarding through his small, graffitied shop on Pearl Street. This small corner shop has become the home base for a transportation revolution.

On a sunny fall morning, in Burlington Vermont, I’m sitting in my car waiting for Big John Van Hazinga, to arrive at Ridin’ High, his small skate shop. To my left are about 30 pumpkins heaped against the colorfully, California surf shop style store wall and to my right is a tattered rickshaw and an old motorcycle.

Just by the environment, I have the feeling that this is not your typical business and that Big John is not your typical businessman.

Ridin’ High is a store devoted to longboards, a longer, faster style of skateboard that has evolved incredibly in technology and popularity since their beginnings in the 1950s.

Longboards are, essentially, long skateboards, usually ranging from 75 to 255 cm in length and roll on anything between 60 to100 millimeter wheels. While skateboards are made for doing tricks and drop-

26

ping in and out of half pipes, longboards are made for transportation, cruising and speed, according to silverfishlongboarding.com.

A large white truck turns awkwardly into the tight parking lot and squeezes into a cozy spot. The front door opens and out comes Van Hazinga.

“Just got pulled over, got to get her inspected,” he says, referring to his truck, which runs on bio-diesel,a non-petroleum based fuel usually made from vegetable oil.

Sporting a white baseball hat, a blue fleece and tan pants that have clearly seen a few days of hard work.

He is a large framed man with a full beard with a red tint adds to his image, which is more like that of a farmer than a business owner.

As it turns out, Van Hazinga has never taken a business class. In fact, he was kicked out of the University of Vermont for a heroic display of drunkenness.

The incident included breaking a window and jumping from the third story to the second story of UVM’s Living and Learning dormitory. Yet that has not stopped him from successfully opening and running a store that combines his passion for longboarding with his desire to do something for the environment and the community.

Ridin’ High sells longboards and long boards accessories, from apparel to helmets, they have everything you need to get set up and skate. Van Hazinga started the business 2000 but the store shared space with a few smoke shops and a piercing studio before landing in its current location. It houses hundreds of skateboards and represents an entire subculture that shares John’s passion for the sport.

Van Hazinga’s passion for skating began at the age of seven when he first started to skate in Texas.

From there he moved to New Jersey, where he made a quarter pipe using the carpentry skills he learned from his father.

Ever since he started he has been constantly looking to skate harder and faster and has the scars to prove it.

Van Hazinga says his most memorable run on a longboard was on Vermont Route 242 by Jay Peak.

During this cruise he experienced fourfoot speed wobbles -- an unpleasant occurance that a skater experiences at a certain velocity causing him to swere back and forth uncontrollably. Somehow, Van Hazinga managed to stay on his board and rode the entire eight-mile journey.

He is casual as he talks to me about extraordinary things. At age eight, a farming machine mauled his arm. Caught by his shirt sleeve, it sucked him into its gearing and left scars all the way up his arm leading to his shoulder.

At which point, it appears, his arm was ripped out of the socket and the skin around it was ravaged violently until the machine eventually relented. This is just one of many battle wounds he wears.

At 31 years old Van Hazinga is a jack of many trades and has done some incredible things. To name a few he is a carpenter, an environmentalist, a Buddhist and devout follower of the religion of skateboarding.

He has been to 48 states and been clocked at an unbelievable 52 mph on his long board. He also believes strongly in the health and environmental benefits of being a vegetarian and supporintg local farms.

“Wakeboarding, longboarding, surfing, snowboarding, I love them all,” he tells me as he gets up and walks over to cooler to take a swig from a jug of apple juice. “I just want to get people to move themselves” Van Hazinga explains is the ultimate goal of the

shop.

He is fervent about moving society away from petroleum dependency and believes in returning the manufacturing of fuel to the farmers.

He has an idea to make tripart bike paths all around Burlington for bikes, runners and skaters.

“We can hire all these homeless people that are out collecting change to paint the lanes” he suggests. “Why not take some people that are struggling and make them stronger?” Van Hazinga has many of these simple but moral ideas yet he remains modest.

“I went to a few Catholic schools, and it’s just not what I’m all about,” he tells me when I asked him about Buddhism. “Buddhism just makes me happy” he adds.

This seems to be a theme of Van Hazinga’s life, if it makes him happy he does it. Today Van Hazinga has a lot to be happy about; in July of 2007 he was in the most serious crash of his life.

Van Hazinga was skateboarding Vermont Route 108 better known as Smugglers Notch road when he had an accident. He uses hand motions as he describes what happened on the 4.5 mile road, where he was once clocked at 52 mph.

He stands up and explains how he was sliding perpendicular to the hill at about 40 mph when a change in pavement was enough to cause his wheels to stop abruptly sending him flying. “Damaged my nose, damaged my cheek bone, damaged my brain,” Van Hazinga explains. “Luckily there was a Stowe ski patroller right behind me who hopped off his board and

Above: Van Hazinga sitting on the roof of Ridin’ High. His cast is for his wrist, which he recently broke while skateboarding.

Previous Page: The outside of Ridin’ High skate shop on Pearl Street in downtown Burlington. helped me keep breathing.”

The accident sent Van Hazinga into a monthlong coma. While coming out of the coma, he says he remembered some basic things.

He told himself “You know how to open your eyes, you know how to talk, so just keep living this way and have your father bring you a nice salad that he gardened, and in time you will all come back together.”

Little by little Van Hazinga began to recover and piece faces and memories back together.

Three months after the accident John was back on a longboard.

“So what if I got a ticket for my vehicle not being inspected, 50 dollar ticket 100 dollar ticket 200 dollar ticket who cares, I’ll save that on veggie oil,” he says.

Having sustained such a serious injury, Van Hazinga’s life has really been put into perspective.

“Just live a good life and if it’s not good walk away, just get away from it and say how do I live better? Let’s go back to where we’re from, being good people and doing good things for the community. Live a good life.”

I stopped the recorder and helped Van Hazinga move some veggie oil from the parking lot to the back of his truck.

He told me he was headed to Stowe on Sunday for the Matterhorn longboarding race. I asked him if he was going to be riding.

He looked at me like a disappointed teacher who calls on a student expecting them to know the answer but find they do not.

“Yeah, man. Got to see who can do the fastest eight miles. I’ll be riding.” p words by ty winsor photos by bobby bruderle

Van Hazinga’s passion for skating began at the age of seven when he first started to skate in Texas. From there he moved to New Jersey where he made a quarter pipe using the carpentry skills he learned from his father.

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a Brandnew

ver the past decade, Burlington transplant Scotty Taylor has developed an expanding creative nexus through his design and marketing companies Catalyst Design/ BrandNEW Clothing.

Located on Williston Road, “the shop” is headquarters for a custom screen-print shop, graphic design lab, and a “BrandNEW” boutique that opened in April 2009.

While the exterior is unsuspecting, the inside is an incredible abyss of almost anything imaginable. The boutique is a clean, NYC style shop (handmade by Taylor) with a collection of tee’s and accessories.

Behind the boutique is a conference area and various offices housing interns, designers and management. Behind it all is a huge warehouse-style area with screen-printing machinery, a photo shoot studio, darkroom, storage and shipping zone.

With a panoramic view from the mez-

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zanine area, employees can relax or hang out with Taylor’s two German Shepherds, Kinder and Jessie.

Taylor, 31, originally from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, who grew up in Minneapolis, Minn. moved the Burlington when he was 18. After spending summers riding at Mount Hood, Oregon, he knew he eventually wanted to move out west, however, he thought he should start east for a more “scholastic” experience, as he calls it.

“I knew I wanted to go to college,” Taylor explained. Laughing, Taylor elaborated that thought he might become too much of a “dready hippie” if he immediately moved to the Mount Hood area.

While Catalyst Design began simply as a freelance project for Taylor 10 years ago, it has expanded into a full design sourcing and distribution company that specializes in unique projects.

“We’ll usually push the limits of what is normally possible, with printing or materi-

als,” Taylor explained. “Something that we do all the time is create larger than average prints in difficult to print on areas of the garments, most screen printing shops are limited to standard specific placement on shirts, but we’re able to print all over shirts, on sleeves, over seams.”

A few years after forming Catalyst Design, Taylor decided to create a “marketing machine” to market for the brands he was helping develop. After exploring a few options for names, Taylor selected brandnewclothing.com.

With BrandNEW, Taylor was able to offer marketing services to his customers, such as sell their products on brandnewclothing.com, promote their products at trade shows, allow them to participate in events that BrandNEW was sponsoring, as well as promote them via e-mail.

He also created in-house brand BrandNEW clothing, a line of t-shirts.

The diamond-shaped logo became the

way of thinking For owner Scotty Taylor, Catalyst Design began as a freelance project.

Nearly a decade later, it has expanded into a full design sourcing and distribution company that specializes in unique projects.

Previous Page: Scotty Taylor, owner of Catalyst Design/ BrandNEW Clothing in his new boutique on Williston Road.

Above: Catalyst Design screenprint technician, Matt Hill, prints a T-shirt. brand icon for BrandNEW. “I was trying to decide a quick graffiti style tag for BrandNEW; I was scribbling the quickest line strokes for creating a “b” and an “n,” Taylor said.

After a few modifications, the logo has become a symbol for the brand. Not only is it seen on the BrandNEW website, T-shirts and stickers, it has also been water jet cut into stainless steel for key-chains and recently laser cut into acrylic for signs for the new boutique.

As a member of an “entrepreneurial family,” Taylor had experience with business growing up. As a child, Taylor said that he would always tell people that he “wanted to work with [his] hands and make stuff ” when he grew up.

“My grandparents started a general store in a small town, I helped my mom start a candle brand that turned into a retail store growing up; I pretty much work all the time whether I’m at work all the time or not and I figured if I was doing that why not do it for myself ?”

After working for Burton for nearly 10 years, Taylor decided to start his own business.

At his “one stop shop” he is involved in every aspect, from building things like the new boutique, to screen printing, to designing, to meeting with and managing employ-

ees.

With the help of his long time employee, Becka Welch, 26, who began just helping to align business goals and now manages the entire screen-print shop and works closely with clients, they are able to effectively and efficiently manage their wide array of projects.

Though Taylor typically works virtually all day, arriving at work around 7 or 8, hopefully squeezing in lunch, eating dinner with his girlfriend and then returning to work some more, he does try to have some fun.

A few years ago, Taylor planned the first cross-country promotional trip for BrandNEW. “Mixing business and pleasure has always been a goal of mine,” Taylor said, laughing.

He traveled across the U.S. to pick up a friend’s Vanagon Syncro in Oregon and drive it back.

While Taylor initially struggled to pick a favorite part of trip, “there were so many good parts,” he said, he finally decided that the best part was a late night in Boulder when Taylor had run out of money.

With only $60 left, not enough money to eat, stay, or leave, Taylor stumbled upon an underground bar that had one dollar Jack Daniels drinks.

“After spending every last penny on one dollar whiskey drinks, we woke up in our van

to our newfound friend/designer shop owner Todd Berger of joyengine.com.”

“They ended up buying a bunch of BrandNEW goods and unwittingly funded our departure from Boulder so we could make our way to Minneapolis,” Taylor said.

While Taylor also enjoyed everything from hanging out in an Oregon hot spring to meeting girls in San Francisco, he eventually had to get back to Burlington.

“We managed to turn a week long trip into a month and a half long adventure,” Taylor said.

Although Taylor feels that there are a lot of reasons to leave Burlington, the people are what make him stay.

“Catalyst is connected to all sorts of [Burlington] companies from churches to bars and everything in between. We also work with some larger Vermont-based companies like Burton [Snowboards], Seventh Generation, Epic One [Google Analytics Company] and Burlington Telecom,” Taylor said.

Though Taylor works practically all day, “we also throw our fair share of parties with local DJ’s and colleges,” Taylor said.

“The culture and people (and Mount Mansfield) around here are keeping us grounded and keeping us happy,” Taylor said. p words by danielle diarbakerly photos by andre malerba

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queen city timepieces Over the years, our lovely little city has seen countless transformations. Businesses and shops have come and gone and people have moved in and moved out. But, as years go by and seasons continue to change, there are a few staples of the Burlington community that have stood the test of time.

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Flynn Theater Through the decades, Flynn Theater has transformed and grown in the face of adversity and doubt, but the Burlington community has always fought to keep the Flynn alive and make it the performing arts center it is today.

The center was originally built in art deco in the 1930’s, at the tail end of Vaudville and silent films, when the talkies were just gaining popularity.

“The Flynn was built just at that transition time,” said Andrea Rogers, who has been a part of the Flynn for 22 years, and is now executive director and chief officer.

“This was the grandest theater in the region. The biggest and the best and had all the wonderful décor of the 30’s,” she added.

In the 1970s, live performances at the Flynn became more popular as Lyric Theater began putting on more shows. There was

talk throughout town of Memorial Auditorium not being a sufficient venue for such performances, leaving the Flynn the sole responsibility of a performing arts center.

After discussions of building a civic center, “there was a survey done by a group called the Champlain Arts Council,” said Andrea, which was founded by The Church Street Center, and Rogers at the time was the director of this Center.

Despite good responses from the public on using the Flynn as a performing arts center, Jarvis wanted to tear it down, and thus, said Andrea, this became a “Save the Flynn” issue.

After much negotiation it was sold to Lyric Theater. Lyric then initiated the Flynn Center for Performing Arts, which was a strong community board.Rogers then began working for this board.

“We opened summer of 1982,” Rogers said, and they gradually became a presenting organization.

“First it was 3 shows, and then 6, then 12, now it’s 50 thousand,” she chuckled.

Due to the unstable economy though, Andrea said, “The question now is can we keep going at the level we are at? Some things where we have developed a real profile are expensive;” Shows such as Jazz and Dance.

Although there are financial concerns it is clear the Flynn is backed by a strong community that has fought since the beginning to help them get where they are now.

There is no question Burlington will continue to pull through in good times and in bad to keep Flynn Theater alive for generations to come.

Bove’s Restaurant Bove’s Restaurant has been Burlington’s go-to local Italian eatery since 1941.

Initially opening on December 7, 1941, according to their Web site, they have continued to serve their classic Italian dishes and kept the business in the family.

While little has changed in nearly 70 years, the family has managed to keep up with the times.

“We’re using more local products but we’ve always stayed local,” Mark

Bove, owner of the restaurant, said. “We’ve always stayed true to our mission by helping the community, for example the food banks and food shelters.

We haven’t really changed over the years.”

After a “throw down” Bove’s decided to change their Wednesday night special.

“Two years ago we were featured on Throw Down with Bobby Flay, on the Food Network, and we had a lasagna throw down, up at Billings [at the Uni-

versity of Vermont], and ever since then — before we only had lasagna on Wednesday nights-- now we serve it every night at the restaurant.”

One of their major changes has been selling their products, such as their sauces, in grocery stores throughout New England and the United States.

“We have them in the grocery stores around New England; about 40 states right now,” Bove said.

The Hood Plant The Hood Plant, Burlington’s former milk bottling and distribution center, is a relic of Queen City days gone by.

Beth Sanders, a Burlington resident for forty years, reminisces about the Hood Plant during its hay day.

“It was a fully functioning home milk delivery service, where the trucks went every morning to fill up.”

Sanders said they delivered not only milk, but ice cream, eggs, juice, butter and cheese.

Anne Rothwell, vice president of the Hood Plant, located on 187 South Winooski Avenue, opened and owned Club Metronome on Main Street for eight years. She has seen, firsthand, the changes within Burlington as it has turned into an urban powerhouse over the decades.

“When we bought this [the Hood Plant], nobody wanted it, which would never happen today.”

The Hood Plant underwent renovations to modernize the old building in 1998.

Where there is now nine units of residential space, there was once loading docks where the milk men received their orders early in the morning for their day’s work.

“The milk men serviced government contracted families such as the Women Infants and Children Program, as well as regular families and people,” Sanders recalled.

Today, the top floor is Buddhist Meditation Center and the two others are Place Creative Company and Michael Sipe Photography, who often photographs for Burton Snowboards. His office resides where the pasteurization room used to be.

The entire building has been completely renovated, it is still a work in process.

Although, in hindsight both Rothwell and co-owner Louis Natale see that they made a crucial purchase in a busy downtown area, she admits that they didn’t know what their intentions were.

“We just liked buying buildings, and this was the first one we bought together.” p words by jessica sanders photos by jason gold and andre malerba

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Iraq paper scissors turning pain, grief and hell into art, a testimony In May of 2007, I moved to Burlington’s Arts District in the South End. Behind my house was the Green Door Studio, a paper mill run by Drew Cameron, an Iraq War veteran, who, in collaboration with fellow papermaker Drew Matott, started the Combat Paper Project.

Throughout this process, veterans Here, I watched an Iraq War veteran pick up scissors and cut his Army fatigues reclaimed their off of his body in an act of reconciliation.

Throwing them into a vat of pulp, he began uniforms as art and reprocessing his military uniform into pabegan to reconcile per.

The idea to make Iraq Paper Scissors their experiences came to me that May in the Green Door Studio. Iraq Paper Scissors is a documentary as soldiers in war. that bears witness to the personal lives of a unique group of combat veterans that now dedicate their lives to the process of healing from their trauma through art.

The film follows these young men and women through the manic highs and lows that dictate their lives post-war, and their inspiring battle to seek peace by healing.

In this studio, I witnessed hands that once carried weapons tearing apart the military uniforms they wore in Iraq. As the beater churned and the uniforms became pulp, there was a sense of letting go and of

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cleansing the dark memories to turn them into something new and beautiful.

I could feel the dust from Iraq being released into the air. I knew this was a story I had to tell.

Before coming to the Green Door, my image of a veteran was that of an older man isolated in society and emotionally barren.

It was an enlightening experience for me to meet these young vets like Drew and Jon Turner and Eli Wright. It was even more profound to discover the women who served in combat.

I listened to their stories and discovered their power – not because of their courage and strength, but because they are learning to rediscover themselves as individuals and artists.

They are sharing their struggle with us.

They are teaching us how to listen, how to understand what it is like to come home from war a dramatically changed person.

Previous Page: Screen caprures from Sara Nesson’s documentary, Iraq Paper Scissors Above: Sara Nesson poses in New York City.

They are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). They desire to create change and to see truth as it evolves into what gives them the inspiration to heal.

Last summer a Combat Paper and Warrior Writers workshop was held on Martha’s Vineyard. Twenty-seven Veterans came from all over the country to participate in the weeklong retreat. Everyone brought his or her uniforms to be cut up and reprocessed into this lineage paper. The island proved a healing place for the vets and will be a focal point in Iraq Paper Scissors.

In the morning, a volunteer from the island would guide a meditation or yoga class.

We had massage therapists, acupuncturists and cranial sacral healers coming by every day to work on us. At the end of the week, Cameron and Turner collected pulp from the lineage of uniforms and made paper in the ocean as the sun was going down.

It was a week of letting go. For each, there was a day to laugh and a day to cry.

Veterans shed their skin by tearing up uni-

forms and writing from the uncharted territories of their souls. Each moment was new.

For some, it was life changing. I ran into one of the female vets about 5 months later and I didn’t recognize her. After the Vineyard, she checked herself into rehab, got cleaned up, lost weight and went back to school. I was able to follow up with a few veterans I had met that week and are now important characters in my film.

As the veterans refined their papermaking technique and developed their writing skills in Warrior Writers workshops, my camera became a conduit for telling their story. It was important for me, as a director, that the film is in their own words, not filtered through experts or analysts. If anyone knows a veteran, they know that coming home and dealing with Veterans Affairs (VA) is a battle no young veteran could ever be prepared for.

In order to fully support the troops when they get home, its important to understand what they are struggling against. Night-

mares, anxiety, anger and depression are just some of the symptoms of PTSD. The VA typically denies that these are symptoms of military service and that they are more likely due to pre-existing conditions or stress due to relationships at home.

When they get home, they find themselves alone and without support. The Combat Paper Project and Warrior Writers are two programs that provide a bridge between veterans and civilians.

As a one-woman crew, I had the advantage of running down to the studio with my camera at a moments notice to capture raw and intimate moments as they happened.

I am not a veteran nor have I experienced serious trauma.

However, I believe that we all share this emotional weight. We will never understand this from our living rooms. p words by sara nesson photo by ben sarle

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mild

abandonment 34

The relic of what was once a glamorous, local lakeside resort was the gracious host of an afternoon in phoebe.’s limelight. photos by bobby bruderle styling by avery mcintosh and stacey apple 35

Previous Page On Jake Clothing courtesy of Steez Shoes courtesy of Jordan Boyea On Myra Pants: Monelle Shoes: Stella On McKenzie Shirt: Monelle Belt: Tribeca Leggings: Steez Glasses: Steez Shoes: Stella

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On Jake Hat: Tribeca Sweatshirt: Steez Shirt: BrandNEW Clothing Pants: Steez On McKenzie Shirt: Tribeca Necklace: Tribeca Pants: Ecco Clothes Clutch: Sweet Lady Jane Shoes: Stella

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Shirt: Tribeca; Necklace: Tribeca; Pants: Sweet Lady Jane; Clutch: Trinket; Shoes: Stella

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On Myra Shirt: Model’s own Skirt: Sweet Lady Jane Shoes: Stella Bag: Sweet Lady Jane

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On Jake Hat: Tribeca Scarf: Tribeca Shirt: Steez Glasses: Steez Pants: Steez

Next Page On McKenzie Dress: Ecco Clothesw Shoes: Stella

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house

party

b u r l i n g t o n ’ s t r o u p e o f s i s t e r d r a g q u e e n s , t h e h o u s e o f l e m a y , g e t s d r e s s e d

Amber, Margaurite and Lucy Belle LeMay — also known as Bob, Mike and Johnnie — are Burlington’s resident troupe of sister drag queens.

Formally known as the House of LeMay, the trio hosted Higher Ground’s “Winter

Is a Drag’” ball for the 14th consecutive time.

Applying lipstick, tying on corsets, wearing clip-on earrings while making last minute changes to their wardrobes, the sisters trade insults back and forth, laughing the entire time, as they slip in and out of

their drag personalities.

The ball is a release from who we are at work and school. We indulge in the fantasy of what seems to be another’s skin. p words and photos by ian thomas jansen-lonnquist

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a practical guide (as seen in phoebe.)

Bove’s Restaurant

The Lab

Steez Teez

68 Pearl Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.864.6651 boves.com

19 Church Street #1 Burlington, VT 05401 802.863.8500 thelab123.blogspot.com

BrandNEW Clothing / Catalyst Design

Lotus Entertainment

104 Church Street Suite 2A Second Floor Burlington, VT 05401 802.863.3199 steezteez.com

3060 Williston Road South Burlington, VT 05403 802.860.6060 brandnewclothing.com catalystdesignvt.com

Ecco…Clothes for Women and Men 61-63 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.860.2220 eccoclothes.com

Elizabeth Mead Sightler Jewelry Esightler.etsy.com

Flynn Center 153 Main Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.863.5966 flynncenter.org

Halvorson’s Upstreet Café 16 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.658.0278

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19 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.863.8500

Mirror Mirror 3 Main Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.861.7500

Monelle 75 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.657.4075 shopmonelle.com

Ridin’ High 2 Pearl Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.658.6187 rdnhgh.com

Second Time Around 89 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.660.8100

Speaking Volumes 377 Pine Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.540.0107

Stella 96 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.864.2800 stella-shoes.com

Sweet Lady Jane 40 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.862.5051 sweetladyjane.biz

The GetUp 170 Bank Street Burlington, VT 05401 myspace.com/thegetupvt

Tribeca 150 Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.861.2784 tribeca-clothing.com

Trinket 32 ½ Church Street Burlington, VT 05401 802.861.3035 trinket-vermont.com

To get your hard copy of phoebe. visit

phoebemagazine.magcloud.com

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