Sonder Issue No. 2 by Miller Integrated Nature Experience

SONDER

EVERYONE HAS A STORY.

ISSUE NO. 2

SONDER n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Ian Kerr

SONDER

MAKING SONDER: A Staff Note

S T A F F

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF EMMA BABCOCK KILEY McCURRY RUBY LOHNE COPY EDITORS C AT H E R I N E O S W A LT ELIZABETH TODD NEWS EDITOR BENEDICTO PENALOZABETANCOURT FEATURE EDITOR EMILEE DALEY SPORTSWRITER JESUS GOMEZ STAFF WRITER JOHNATHON FROST CREATIVE DIRECTORS CODY FULLER DARREL HARRISON DESIGNERS FATIMA BARBOSA A N T W A N E A B R O N - H Y LT O N BENJIMAN WALSH PHOTO EDITORS CHAZ STAFFORD HANNAH TORNELL PHOTOGRAPHER NAOMI SATCHELL VIDEOGRAPHER HANNAH WEST MUSIC EDITOR KIOKO KOZAKI WEB EDITOR KADON ENGLE SOCIAL MEDIA JESSRY SMITH PUBLIC RELATIONS C I C E LY T R AV E R T I N I AD MANAGER KALEB DAVIS ADVISER IVAN MILLER

Jessry Smith

any kids sit at their desks at school and search for meaning as to why they are there. Some sit quietly, blindly writing the words scratched across the boards before them, knowing that later that day the same information will become completely foreign to them. Other students, those interested in what they are learning, will more than likely retain this information, but they too contemplate the why. Students often give up because they find no use in it. This is likely because at some point we are taught that learning isn’t always about learning. It is about memorizing information from notes scribbled on a piece of paper, or reading an excessive amount of words from a dated textbook that looks like it wants to die just as much as you do. Imagine if students were given the power to direct their education. I had a realization as to why students struggle with staying interested in classes on MINE's first trip to Eastern Oregon during our first night at Skull Hollow campground near Smith Rock. A few weeks later, I tried something different for a potential

profile story. Eric Wiltshire, a music education teacher and Oregon Marching Band (OMB) director at the University of Oregon, allows his students to take on leadership roles and has seen great results. Wiltshire says, “I’ve got a team of about 50 student leaders who run most of the organization. I mostly stand back and watch the students take care of things.” He has learned that there is much more to band than playing pop tunes on trombones and remembering marching patterns. It’s about learning how to be a leader. The Miller Integrated Nature Experience (MINE) is a class for aspiring writers, journalists, photographers, and designers that teaches leadership and lets the creative juices flow. Collaboration, creativity, and a willingness to get out of your comfort zone is greatly encouraged. Instead of strictly teaching, telling students how to design and write, adviser Ivan Miller allows us to do the problem solving. For our first magazine, students worked on several projects, going into different environments that they might not have entered. Benedicto Penaloza-Betancourt wrote a piece on homelessness, going so far as to sleep outside for a night. Emma Babcock joined a wrestling practice to cover a story on a female wrestler. Cicely Travertini had email correspondence with Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jose Antonio Vargas. Catherine Oswalt worked with English 10 students on profiling Urban Lumber Company owner Seth San Filippo. Benjamin Walsh followed everyone with a camera and captured video footage. We tell

Sonder is a publication produced by MINE of Springfield High School in Springfield, OR. Follow us on social media: Facebook - @millernature Instagram - @mine.dirtbags

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The second issue of Sonder in its final stages of production.

"Collaboration, creativity, and a willingness to get out of your comfort zone is greatly encouraged." people’s stories, and in doing so students find their voices and unlock talents. Wiltshire realized early on that music was his passion. “Once I hit high school, that became my place, the band people, the music people became my family and there wasn’t any doubt, going into college, what I wanted,” Wiltshire said. Wiltshire’s parents had their doubts about his career of choice, not because they particularly disliked it, but because they doubted the sort of job he wanted to go after would allow him to provide for himself. But Wiltshire loves what he does. For Adelene Farias-Montes, a

Hannah West

sophomore in Miller’s English 10 class and myself, following her passion meant waking up at eight in the morning to meet Wiltshire and the OMB to load six buses and sit through three hours of pregame rehearsal, interviewing and photographing the band students, flaggers and cheerleaders. Spending an entire day with the band, we saw the same sort of passion and excitement in the students that we saw in ourselves. This was Adelene’s first time going outside of a classroom to cover a story. Although she had a prior interview with Wiltshire, being in the middle of the madness was a different experience

entirely. I had never mentored anyone before nor had I taken photos, but Adelene and I created memories better than any photo could capture. Learning is not about being perfect, but taking charge of a task and expecting nothing less than your best. As part of MINE, students create an environment that they enjoy and exceed in. When given the freedom to report and write in a professional environment, students learn to write better but also develop the skills to work with others efficiently, get to know the world outside the classroom, and form a community within the classroom. S O N D E R ISSUE NO. 2

C O N T E N T S

BIGGER THAN A BAND MUSIC IN COLOR

10 6

Some Like It Hot

An editor finds zen in extreme temperatures.

S O N D E R ISSUE NO. 2

SONDER

ISSUE NO. 2

LIVING AN UNAPOLOGETIC LIFE

A Guitar Pick and a Pen

University of Oregon professor Tom Wheeler finds love for teaching through his passion for journalism.

BLURRING BORDERS

A WALK IN WORN SHOES

WRESTLING EXPECTATIONS

Building Mind and Body Bryan Cortes describes his dedication to bodybuilding.

Urban Lumber Man

Seth San Filippo transforms an adolescent wish into a formidable business. S O N D E R ISSUE NO. 2

A VOICE FOR THE SILENCED

Amanda Bottimore advocates for students, hoping to provide a safe space that she did not recieve in school. Kiley McCurry

airy lights, Disney decor, and cartoon figurines decorate Amanda Bottimore’s English classroom, a uniquely recognizable space at Springfield High School. Whether students stop by to say “hi,” raid an endless candy jar, or seek an escape from the challenges of school and life, Bottimore’s classroom is a safe space and refuge for many students, a place where important conversations take place. On December 8 in her social justice class, a popcorn style conversation was held about the stereotypes surrounding men. “Superior to women,” “good at sex,” and “leader of the household” were blurted out — the things that are considered stereotypes that men are expected to live up to. Bottimore passed out a thick, blue packet labeled “Bros before Hos: The Guy Code,” a sociological journal written by Michael Kimmel. His journal describes expectations regarding men, and in order to become a better man, Kimmel argues they have to exceed in every expectation. It depicts a “Real Guys Top Ten List,” summarizing stereotypes such as “boys don’t cry,” “it’s better to be mad than sad,” “take it like a man,” and “size matters.” One of the quotes that Bottimore reads aloud causes a rustle of murmuring and quiet gaping mouths. “While women often become a kind of currency by which men negotiate their status with other men, women are for possessing, not for emulating.” A student speaks up, “so they act tough and manly just because they want to be positively evaluated by other men?” Light bulbs went off. Covering the complexities of sexual identities and historical impact of gender expectations in her social justice literature class, students analyze the impact of 1980’s HIV/AIDS epidemic and contradictory definitions of feminism. In a world where women’s voices are still undervalued, representation is limited, and human beings are still being denied their rights, Bottimore teaches students to not only effectively understand and talk about serious, controversial topics, but also helps them effectively express their own opinions.

Springfield High School teacher Amanda Bottimore visits the University of Oregon campus. Kiley McCurry

Bottimore teaches English, coaches volleyball, and advises the Gender Sexuality Alliance Club (GSA). Bottimore grew up in Ashland, Oregon, and attended Ashland High School. She was a four-sport varsity athlete, playing volleyball, basketball, softball, and track. She graduated from Ashland High School in 2010, and moved to Eugene to study at the University of Oregon (UO). Bottimore majored in English literature, describing it as “a combination of all my interests: human expression, art and criticism.” She then earned her bachelor’s degree in 2013, and her master's in teaching in 2014. Though she finished college quickly, it was not until Bottimore volunteered in a classroom at Roosevelt Middle School in Eugene that her passion for teaching was solidified. She walked to the middle school, two miles there and back, everyday without headphones. It was the only time in her life that she didn’t need music to distract her from depression. “It was an environment that challenged me and allowed me to be creative. I decided to be a teacher because I believe in the potential of what education could be,” says Bottimore.

Emma Babcock / Kiley McCurry

She has worked for Springfield High School for four years and loves building relationships with students. “I love that to a large majority of my students I am not just their English teacher,” says Bottimore. “I am one day their friend, the next their confidant. It’s ever changing.” Mentoring students sometimes comes with a saddening frustration. Bottimore says, “the thing I dislike most about my job is that my students’ lives force me to be more than their English teacher. It saddens and frustrates me that in some of my students’ lives I am the only person they trust or adult they take comfort in. Sometimes I, or another staff member here at SHS, are the only people that have ever seen or heard them.” Bottimore is the head adviser of GSA. “I am passionate not only about the equal treatment and rights for the LGBTQ+ community but all groups of people because why wouldn’t I be? I love working with the GSA at Springfield High School because we are actively creating a welcoming space for students and allies to exist without judgement and ridicule,” states Bottimore. Bottimore has a significant influence and ability to make a positive impact on students, mainly because she experienced something

similar in high school. Bottimore says, “when I was in high school, I had a coach that verbally and physically assaulted me and my teammates. This experience, to say the least, defined me, by teaching me how people have the ability to so easily destroy you. During that season, I became so self-conscious, internal, depressed, and scared that I lost myself. I vowed, not knowing that at 15 I would become a teacher and coach, that I would never make a person, a child especially, feel that way. That vow is always in the back of my mind.” Knowing the power and influence she has on students, she uses her words, lectures, and examples in a positive and welcoming light, and would never treat anyone like she was treated. Bottimore has the drive to positively impact and influence the culture of Springfield High School, enhancing the community. She is an inspiration to many, a strong influence for the weak, and a brave voice for those who cannot speak.

Various decorations are spread throughout Amanda Bottimore's English classroom at SHS.

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SOME LIKE IT HOT

Kiley McCurry discovers balance at a Eugene hot yoga studio. Kiley McCurry

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Editor-in-Chief finds her zen while in the sukhasana pose. Emma Babcock

wake up to my alarm buzzing at 7:30 a.m., a time no high school student ever voluntarily wakes up during winter break. I bring nothing more than my wallet, a purple yoga mat, and a water bottle, and drive to downtown Eugene for my first “hot yoga” class. Hot yoga is a broad term describing the act of practicing yoga in a heated room, ranging anywhere from 95 degrees to 105 degrees. I have yet to attend a yoga class, much less one in 105 degree heat. I arrive at the Balanced Hot Yoga studio on Willamette Street. In the lobby, I remove my shoes and fill out a liability form. Walking in, a warm rush of air instantly hits me. I set up my mat and glance around the room. Ten other people prepare for the session. All seem to know what to do, unlike myself. Softly lit lights line the tops of the walls. A row of mirrors hang upon the front wall, and large windows with thin drapes provide natural light from the back. Yoga instructor Renee Taylor Valentin makes her way to the front of the classroom, instructing us to relax and focus on our breathing. I close my eyes and follow her

instructions to place one hand on my heart and the other on my stomach. I relax, feeling my chest rise and fall. We begin some yoga poses I am familiar with, including downward dog and child’s pose. I focus solely on my balance. I look around the room as if to find some reassurance, hoping the pose I have found myself in is indeed the correct one. On many occasions it’s not, but I have assistance from Valentin, bending my knee further over my foot, or turning my heels to face more to the right. One challenging pose involves one foot standing on the mat, while the rest of my body moves parallel to the floor, with both of my arms and a leg raised up, like an airplane. After getting the hang of things, I take off. Yoga has been around for thousands of years, although there is no specific date of when it began. Western scholars believe it began as early as 500 BCE. It originated in ancient India, created by the IndusSarasvati civilization. Yoga was first mentioned in the historical text of the

Rigveda, containing Indian hymns, mantras, and rituals. In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s yoga gurus, known also as spiritual teachers, introduced yoga to the West, slowly increasing its popularity. In the 1980’s, yoga became an extremely popular form of exercise. Yoga has plenty of physical benefits, including increasing muscle strength, cardio and circulatory health, and improved metabolism. It is also a great stress reliever, and yoga’s incorporation of meditation and breathing helps to improve mindfulness. During my hot yoga session, I was alone in my mind, thinking of nothing but the warm air around me and the steady breaths that I take for granted. I felt more aware of myself, my thoughts, and my body, even the way I live and the choices I make. Valentin has been practicing yoga since 1998. “My first couple classes were as a kid; one of my friend’s mom was a yoga teacher,” she says, “but when I was 18 I just decided to sign up for a class out at [Lane

Members of the Balanced Hot Yoga Studio heat up and enjoy a steamy yoga session. Contributed

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A Balanced Hot Yoga instructor performs the warrior II pose along the Pacific Coast.

“Whatever is going on, even if the day is going well, it always seems to get even better after a yoga class.” — Renee Taylor Valentin Community College] so that was my first official class.” She wasn’t introduced to Hot Yoga until 2005, and came upon it coincidentally. “I happened to live in the tropics so I wasn’t actually practicing Hot Yoga, but it was really really hot and humid everyday when I practiced yoga in the sun so it felt the same that Hot Yoga in Eugene does.” Valentin lived in Palmyra Atoll at the time, located in the Central Pacific. She was practicing Bikram yoga, a popular style of hot yoga, consisting of a series of 26 poses and multiple breathing exercises. Valentin teaches multiple classes, including slow flow, sunrise strong flow, and yoga nidra. “Honestly my favorite class to teach is yoga nidra”,

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she explains. “The therapeutic effect of yoga nidra (the yoga of sleep) is that it's a deep, meditative practice that can be used to treat people with things such as PTSD, and all kinds of trauma survivors. It has really proven effective yoga meditation technique.” But Valentin’s favorite yoga involves going outside and practicing in beautiful parts of the world. Balanced Hot Yoga offers multiple outdoor trips to places such as Moraine Lake in Central Oregon, and the Obsidian Cliffs in Yellowstone National Park. It is a full day of hiking (up to ten miles), meditative yoga, silent journal time, and even soaking in hot springs. This helps create a sense of community

with the outdoors. “It's a really great way to get to know your community better, and also a great way to incorporate your practice from the mat out onto the practice of exploring nature, because that's a big part of yoga as well, realizing we are all connected,” says Valentin. “Not only you and I, and all of humanity, but also what we do greatly affects the earth we live in."

After finishing my hot yoga class, I was much more aware of myself and my choices. I ate healthier, remained hydrated, and had a positive feeling all day. “[Yoga] always makes things better. Whatever is going on, even if the day is going well, it always seems to get even better,” says Valentin. Yoga creates a deeper state of mindfulness, and allows us to live in the present. Yoga can add a sense of balanced awareness, allowing for clarity of the mind, and a stronger sense of oneself.

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BIGGER

THAN A BAND Vial...experiment band members create deep family ties. Drake Bryant Taylor

Emma Babcock

Vial...experiment members Jason "Fatt Ass" Lindsay and Kevin "Kevlar" Richardson rock out.

don't like making other people rich,” says singer Kevin “Kevlar” Richardson of Vial… experiment while rushing his amp through the rain from the trailer to the stage. But the rain is nothing compared to the 15 minute time crunch they have to set everything up for a show, a process that can easily take hours. Then there's the breakdown, which is just as frantic and stressful as the set up. The bassist, Jason Lindsay, known only as Fatt Ass, referred to it as “the rockstar life.” All of Vial…experiment's members Richardson credits his heavy sound and other basic living necessities. come from very different walks of to being forced to play everything The majority of the expenses come life, including the last remaining on his guitar in a “drop C” tuning from drummer Tim “Talos” Benton's member of the original lineup because his hands would cramp equipment, costing about $25,000; starting about 10 years ago, Kevin in E standard. He describes Vial… paid for by his job at the Cosmos Richardson. Richardson was born experiment as an “expensive hobby.” Popcorn factory, which equips the tone deaf, but that never stopped His set up alone costs about $10,000 band with what feels like a lifetime him from filling supply of any room with Cosmos. RICHARDSON DESCRIBES VIAL...EXPERIMENT AS AN his voice. Over Benton, the the years he youngest at 22 perfected his and the newest sound and has to the group, since been able truly unites to hear just fine. the band with Growing up in his unique western Oregon, he never really and the band's costs $50,000. style. Benton grew up in Las Vegas, thought about being in a band until Despite steep costs, everyone pulls Nevada and started playing drums hanging out with the members of their weight and pays expenses. when he was just 5 years old, Alice in Chains backstage at 15 Richardson, works as a handyman crediting his dad as an inspiration. years old. Combine that with learning on the side for an elderly couple Benton says, “just trying to pass the to play the guitar when he was 18, as well as a local sorority house, torch.” And he can play, putting his and you have the extremely talented making just enough to squeak by soul into every note, every movement musician belting lyrics today. with his gear, his share of the rent, precisely calculated and meaningful.

Vial...experiment performs at a concert held at the WOW Hall on January 6. 16

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His impressive sound on a seemingly unassuming double kicker kit blows people away. Benton had floated around with local bands since he was 13, but it wasn't until he was hand-picked by guitarist Mike Nelson that he found his place with Vial... experiment. He says, “these guys… and this band... just instantly felt like home.” “The Madman” Mike Nelson, lead guitarist of Vial…experiment, started out on the drums when he was 8 and drove his family crazy trying to copy every sound he heard. It wasn't until he picked up the guitar a couple years later that he truly found his calling. Nelson had known Richardson for about ten years prior to becoming a member of Richardson’s band. He was in another band called Liquid during the majority of that time, and he toured with previous members of Vial…experiment quite often. During the years leading up to Nelson finally joining Vial… experiment, he constantly urged Richardson to join forces, saying, “you got a killer voice. Just imagine your voice and my guitar on the same stage.” He similarly recruited the drummer. For Nelson, music represents a mixture of sound, which is why he is the unspoken coordinator of all adjusting and mixing. The band considers him “the brains behind it all.” Nelson explains that roots run deep between him and Richardson. He says, “me and Kevin had been friends for about ten years. He's been in Vial...experiment and I had another band, Liquid. So about eight months into all of us joining together, my mom notices my new friend on Facebook, Larry Richardson, which

was (Richardson’s) dad.” Nelson soon learned that Richardson and his brother share the same father. “So I go to Kevin and tell him about it and he calls his dad and bang! the

blues, which still shines through in his much heavier bass playing today. Fat Ass plays a five-string and adamantly refuses to use a pick, mentioning that, “fingering gives

connection is made,” says Nelson. “So my brother is his brother. And how does that happen?” Well, it happened and from that point things really clicked. If Nelson is the brain, then Fatt Ass is the mouth, being the most social and possessing the most character. He has been a part of Vial…experiment almost since the beginning and has known Richardson and Nelson for even longer. You'll never see Fatt Ass on stage without full face paint; nor does he show his or his family's face in any online pictures. He says it's both for family safety and the eerie concept of anonymity. Fatt Ass, a Springfield High School graduate from 1993, was born and raised in Springfield, along with most everyone else in his immediate family. He didn't start playing bass until he was 30, beginning with the

such a deeper, more real sound,” which he uses to really distinguish himself from the guitar and drums. All members are fairly independent and have unique and unusual ways of going about their business, but one thing is certain: the comaraderie of Vial…experiment is unlike anything out there, too crazy to dream up, whether it’s because the guitarist and singer feel like long lost brothers or because their rehearsal studio space crams them together as close as possible. In a world where CD sales are diminishing, merchandise sales almost nonexistent, and monetary rewards few and far between ($100 a show, on a good day), it’s all about the brotherhood. It really is an “expensive hobby,” that would never last without everyone being a loyal member of the metal family known as Vial…experiment.

MUSIC IN COLOR Inside the mind of multi-talented SHS freshman Noah Tornell. Kadon Engle

Benjiman Walsh

to take the test and play it in a concert. “Every time I got bored I would learn a new instrument,” says Tornell. “I have a color based sound spectrum. When I hear different things, I see different colors and shapes. I was particularly interested in Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, so I taught it to myself on piano, not by knowing what notes to play, but instead by playing the keys that made the same colors as the original sounds in my head.”

oah Tornell first found his passion for music in elementary school when his teachers had him play a recorder. He loved watching people react to him playing, and thought it was interesting how he could use music to make people react differently. In seventh grade, Tornell watched a pep rally at Springfield High School. He recalled crying himself to sleep that night because he thought he would never be a part of the SHS band. One day, a friend asked him to bring his recorder to school. While playing at lunch, the band teacher, Denise Keown, approached him. She inquired as to why he wasn’t in band. He met with her after school that day, and she asked him what instrument he was interested in. Tornell asked what instrument they needed, and she responded that they did not have any trombone players, but that was the hardest instrument available. He simply responded

"Every time I got bored I would learn a new instrument."

He credits learning the piano in this way to his Asperger's syndrome (AS), a developmental disorder on the autism spectrum. One in every 68 children are diagnosed with AS in the United States per year. “I legally tested for it and I got a free tablet, so that’s really cool,” jokes Tornell. He embraces his difference and now he sees it as more of an advantage. “I like to credit my mom for raising me in such a way that helped me embrace it in a way that doesn’t make it obvious,” he says. Tornell has learned lessons about socializing and learned how to fit in at school. In sixth grade, Tornell was bullied and shunned because he wasn’t like everyone else. He finally decided that he was just going to be like everyone

— Noah Tornell with, “okay, I can do it.” For the next two weeks he sat in a practice room for 45 minutes a day. He taught himself how to read music and play trombone. A month later, Keown said that he was at the top of her class. Tornell decided to learn the flute as well. After only two weeks of practice, he had learned it well enough

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Noah Tornell plays flute, one of many instruments he has learned over time. else because he didn’t want to be left out. He persevered through difficulties and now excels in everything that he does. Tornell begins his day the same as any other freshman in high school, trying to determine how much longer he can stay in bed before he absolutely has to get up. He makes sure to pack his backpack for school the night before so that he is prepared for the day. He throws together some French toast or cereal for breakfast. Then he makes sure his lunch is packed the same way everyday: a bag of carrots, celery, orange bell

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peppers, a bag of apple slices, a Nature Valley honey nut and oats granola bar, a Clif Bar, a cheese stick, which he usually eats with his apples, a banana, and occasionally tortilla chips. Then, his mom drives him to school. He puts his trombone in the band room in the morning and tries to make band teacher Jon Bridges laugh. “I want him to have a better day because he can get cranky,” says Tornell. Then he rushes through his classes, constantly thinking and analyzing everything, like whether to do his homework in class or at lunch. He finishes up his day and gets a ride home from his mom.

At home, Tornell usually practices some sort of instrument for a while. His dad comes home and asks him how his day was even though it is generally always the same answer. Two hours before bed, he has contemplation time, reflecting about the day, about what went well, what could have gone better, and what he can improve upon for the next day. As a freshman, Tornell found himself in some pretty challenging classes, such as geometry and biology. “They were not challenging to me because I had already taken them and I was bored, and when I’m bored it’s hard to act like a

normal person,” he says. So then he moved up to Chemistry and Algebra 2, which are classes that sophomores or juniors generally take. He enjoys making new connections and learning new things, then applying them to real life scenarios. Tornell also remains motivated to be a good person and always tries his best to never be rude or selfish. “I always believe people are good until proven otherwise, and they are always redeemable,” he says. His mom, Rainbow Tornell, adds, “Noah is always hoping to better others and put them before himself.” He loves to do almost anything that is presented to him, especially cognitive activities, such as math and music. “Sometimes when

I’m bored I’ll just print out math worksheets for pre-calculus so that I’m ready for the class,” he says. He has also learned many more instruments, including baritone, trumpet, tuba, clarinet, saxophone, accordion, banjo, harmonica, viola, and he aspires to learn the French horn and guitar in the future. Tornell also enjoys sports because math can be applied to them in real time. “I have really bad vision in the sense that I don’t have depth perception," he says. "Everything seems as if it's on a two dimensional plane, and I constantly have to calculate distances in my head based on how big objects look compared to how big they are when they are close up." He particularly enjoys playing

keeper in soccer because of probability. Tornell says, “as a goalie, I’m watching the whole game and watching every single player. Watching what foot they usually kick with, if they can kick with both, if they look where they’re going to kick or if they look the opposite direction and try to trick you out... All the time I am looking for probability to know when they kick it, what side of the goal I should dive to.” In the future, Tornell hopes to work at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA). He wants to continue to search for deeper meanings and challenge himself to learn more. He says, “the most challenging thing that I have yet to succeed in is finding an algorithm for girls."

Noah Tornell showcases his piano skills for Springfield High School's jazz band at the winter assembly.

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Tom Wheeler sits in his office at the University of Oregon.

A GUITAR PICK AND A PEN Journalist Tom Wheeler explains how his passion for rock and roll led to a career in teaching. Catherine Oswalt

n a white rectangular conference room in the University of Oregon’s Allen Hall, black and white portraits on the Hall of Achievement stare straight ahead as the lights are dimmed. Journalism professor Tom Wheeler enters wearing a black turtleneck, jeans, and brown shoes. He starts class with a story, recounting one of the strangest jobs he had: teaching playboy bunny Barbi Benton how to play the banjo for the upcoming television show Hee Haw. The class, enraptured and bewildered, chuckles at such a strange tale. Wheeler is someone with stories to tell, experiences to learn from, and lots of passion. Passion. The driving force for life’s ambitions. Wheeler has followed his passion time and again. As a young child, an infatuation with music molded the current University of Oregon professor into who he is today. And rock and roll guided him not only in life but in career. He took this love and created his own path, and his own unique voice. But he took this voice in a

Benjiman Walsh

different direction. Wheeler wrote an encyclopedia about guitars and then took on the journalism world with the same devotion he had for music. Wheeler looks back now on what he considers to be a “blessed life,” one full of purpose. And now, amidst his students attending his Feature Writing course, he invites them to “take the plunge,” just as he did years ago. Teaching comes naturally to Wheeler and he has a deep reverence for his work at the university. But his first love was rock and roll. “I think it got into my blood when I was probably 8 years old, 9 at the oldest,” says Wheeler. “I didn’t know what was happening, I mean I could articulate it now because this is what I do for a living, I write about music, but as a little kid, all I knew was there was a world out there that I was unfamiliar with and this was going to be the bridge.” This genre of music was created in the late 1940s and 1950s in the United States, evolving from rhythm and blues, country, and gospel. The

term "rock and roll" was coined by Alan Freed as a way to describe his records on a Cleveland radio station. It greatly influenced American society as a whole. Rock and roll had a profound effect on the ideas and concepts of sex, race, politics, and culture. It forced many to come face-to-face with discomforts and disapproved topics. The excitement and connection of the genre drew Wheeler in a big way. “Even though this was half a century ago, the astonishing kick in the teeth, the slap in the face that was rock and roll,” Wheeler muses, “it wasn’t just ‘oh, there’s this new kind of music and yeah it’s kind of cool.’ It was ‘what’s happening, what’s happening in life.’” Rock and roll completely changed society. “You had Elvis on television,” Wheeler recalls, “he was so sensual. I mean they had record burning, you had ministers like breaking records... because it was so sensual and that’s a big part of bringing sex into the mainstream where people didn’t talk about it, and don’t forget race, you can’t have this discussion without

Wheeler, previously a freelancer for Rolling Stone and editor-in-chief at Guitar Player, now teaches journalism at the University of Oregon. race.” Ultimately, the music was a combination of styles, from iconic artists such as Chuck Berry, B.B. King, Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Ray Charles and Eddie Cochran. Wheeler says, “some people couldn’t handle it, and that’s why the reaction was so strong I think. It scared people. Rock and roll absolutely scared people.” It also changed Wheeler and his entire life direction. “I just thought I was going to be a military guy like my dad,” says Wheeler. “But I went to law school and figured I’d be an attorney and grow up and do something responsible, be a grown up. “I figured if you had asked me as a kid I would’ve thought, well I guess when I’m a grown up I won’t care about this music anymore. That just never happened. I just never stopped caring about it. So, I started writing a book, I had no idea what I was doing. I just had a lot that I wanted to say and it got published. It was reviewed by Rolling Stone and they asked if I would write for them. And I don’t think I’d ever seriously considered being a writer, that was just too glamorous, and oh my God, to be a

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writer!” Taking on a freelancing job with Rolling Stone was something that was not part of his plan, and it was terrifying. “It was one of those things where sometimes in life you make one of those decisions—I was afraid—but you make that decision because you know that if you don’t, you’ll kick yourself for the rest of your life.” Wheeler eventually became editor-in-chief at Guitar Player magazine. “I’m running this operation,” he says. “I was assigning stories. I was picking covers. I was matching writers, deciding what we were going to do. Out of all the ideas that are pouring into your desk every single day, you’re going to say no to most of them. And the ones that make it in, those are going to determine your personality, and assure who you are, and if you’re successful or not. “Managing a staff, it was a great experience for me. I did it for ten years. I learned a lot about managing people, some of whom have large egos, some of whom don’t always get along. So all of these real world considerations you have to have in a staff or if you’re

playing in a band, or if you’re playing on a team, or balancing all these talents and whatever. It was a great experience.” Wheeler transitioned from music journalism to the academic world; no longer writing under deadlines or managing others. Yet, core leadership qualities remain while guiding students in a classroom. With his guidance and expertise, students thrive and their voices are heard. Wheeler remains passionate about sharing his stories and teaching. “Stories. I love stories,” he says. “I love sharing them, I love hearing them from other people, and I love teaching students how to write them, how to get their stories out to the public.” Wheeler loves his job and blessed life, and he plans to keep sharing stories. “I could retire now and I just don’t feel like it,” he says. “I just enjoy it too much.”

Original reporting by: Omar Carlos Faith Sweeten Tanner Levell Danielle Trotter

Bryan Cortes flexes as he looks at his reflection.

BUILDING MIND AND BODY Catherine Oswalt

he definition of an athlete often changes depending on the age group. Teenagers often define it as someone who participates in varsity athletics while representing their high school. Outside of that many athletes go unnoticed. Bryan Cortes, a 5-foot-5, 175-pound senior, belongs to both categories. He has played varsity football all four years at Springfield High School, but most of his dedication, and lack of recognition in terms of sports, resides off the field and inside the gym. Walk the crowded streets with Cortes and you’ll notice three consistent reactions from those around him: girls gawking, boys inquiring about his workout routine, and often a loud, “do you lift bro?” from young adolescents. His body is toned and taut, his jaw clenched and chiseled as he saunters past. He may be small in size but he is powerful in presence and physique. Cortes is a bodybuilder, religiously working

Emma Babcock out seven days a week for a minimum of two to three hours a day. “Bodybuilding is kind of like an art,” says Cortes. “It’s an art with the human body. You are shaping your body into something you want it to look like, kind of like how a painter sees something in his mind and paints it on a canvas. That’s what bodybuilding is, except you see it in your mind and then you’re training the muscle.” Go to the gym and witness a grueling workout: bench, squat, deadlift, pull ups, bicep curls, barbell rows, calf raises, over head press and repeat; every single day. The gym is an intimidating place for many, full of sweaty and fit people. Looking around it can seem scary, but Cortes insists the gym is a “no judgement zone.” “Everyone here,” he says, "is here because they are trying to better themselves. There is never any shame in that, no matter where you are in your journey.” Over the seven days that he

Bryan Cortes religiously works out every week. 28

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works out, he follows a plan that he has crafted for himself, taking bits and pieces from others within the industry, working a different muscle group each day. As he works he doesn’t keep track of the time, tunes out the world, and focuses on what he is trying to accomplish. He doesn’t count sets and he doesn’t count reps, just does whatever his body can take; pushing himself to the limit every week, every day, every hour. “You want to work out in a way so that all the muscles groups add up,” says Cortes. “That way your body can look symmetric and aesthetic, that’s the key.” Very few get into such a torturous activity the way Cortes has. “I started the end of my sophomore year after football. I guess I always was bodybuilding. My freshman year was all about getting stronger, but after my sophomore year it was just like I started doing more cardio and just working on my body, nutrition, and health. So I really didn’t know I was bodybuilding when I was actually was. And then the start of

junior year I started getting into it big time.”

against one another. Some people become obsessed with health.

Americans gravitate towards exercise. “Watch retailer Timex surveyed more than 1,000 people on their fitness habits. They found that at least 73 percent of Americans report working out one or more times per week. Twentynine percent spend between 30 minutes and an hour working out, whereas 18 percent spend between one and two hours a day exercising,” stated Shape magazine in an exercise survey. Then people diet. “An estimated 45 million Americans go on a diet each year, and Americans spend $33 billion each year on weight loss products,” according to Boston Medical Center’s research on nutrition and weight management. Vanity and health can go handin-hand to achieve results in terms of appearances and becoming the healthiest version of yourself. However, it is not uncommon for these two aspects of life to work

“I did more homework on bodybuilding than I did for school," says Cortes. "I focused more time learning about it and how to build muscle and how to lose fat and all of that stuff. I was just hooked on it and I started seeing crazy results. I basically started because I like the way it feels to get those results and I like to look good naked.” He laughed at his own comment coyly, taking a sip of water. Mid bench press Cortes spoke out on his perceived vanity: “In bodybuilding you kind of have to be,” says Cortes. “But I guess it is that way in any sport, you have to be vain, you have to be super into yourself if you want to be successful.” After a three-hour workout, Cortes ponders his journey into bodybuilding, his clothes drenched and sweat dripping. Towel in hand, he summed everything up in simple terms: “bodybuilding is an art and I am Picasso.”

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N A G N I V LI

E F LI C I T E G E L O P NA

Dymon Jackson

Springfield High School student Dymon Jackson smiles outside at Dorris Ranch Living History Farm.

n February 23, 2010, my dad, my brother, and I moved to Springfield Oregon. My 8-yearold brain was having a hard time processing everything. Sure, the move alone was terrifying, but the amount of growth I would face in the next stage of my life was the real challenge. I was in the midst of an already vulnerable stage. The move to a place where no one looked like me made it even harder. This is when I learned that as a black woman society has already created an image for me to abide by. It is my job to diverge from this stereotype and create my own image. Baltimore is a city filled with busy streets and busy people. The summers were hot and humid, while the winters brought frigid temperatures and several feet of snow. There was never a quiet day in the neighborhood. The boys went to the park to play basketball. The girls stayed on the stoop of the row houses painting nails and braiding hair. On days like this, the kids would go down to the “corner store.” Our favorite store of choice was Tony’s, which had 15 cent lollipops and 50 cent hot fries, some of our favorite snacks. As I grew, I learned to cherish moments like these. Oregon offered much of the opposite. The neighborhoods are quieter. The streets are often cold and damp. It took time, but I learned to appreciate the difference. Instead of skyscrapers, trees filled the sky, along with hills, which I once believed were called mountains. The people here are pleasant. They offer you a smile as they walk and send you into a delightful mood for the rest of the day. Centennial Elementary was a good school. The teachers were nice and the kids were nicer. But on my first day I could not help but notice that all the kids asked me about my hair. I had never stopped to think of my differences because in Baltimore they were not as apparent. With these new questions came a forced reflection. Now it was no longer just the kids who did not look like me, it was the girls in the commercials

Emma Babcock

I watched, the girls in the movies, and so much more. Where were the girls that had brown skin, with curly hair or braids? Where were the girls with realistic body proportions? In the beauty advertisements, they were nowhere to be found. This new realization began to take its toll. I began to realize that I was the opposite of the ideal looks advertised in society. I began to question my

I wanted better for myself, and I wanted better for society. The sooner that I realized I was not made to obey the status quo, the better off I would be. A minority like me, from a city like Baltimore, is not supposed to be the one to succeed, but I was determined to change that. I was determined to be the rose growing from concrete, not another statistic. As I grew older, I no longer

“I am no longer just a woman of color, I am a woman of power.” own beauty. The way I used to have my hair braided was no longer satisfying. When my aunt Patrese came over to braid my hair, I was disgusted within my look. Standing in the bathroom mirror, with the light beaming down on my face, I began to cry. I felt that I was ugly; I felt that I was not good enough. Tears would stream down my face, as I gave way to the brutal terms of society. This became a habit for me. My hair, my facial features, I wanted to change it all. This thought process was dangerous, and it had to stop.

felt the need to change, instead I embraced who I was. I embraced that I am strong and educated. I embraced my weaknesses. I embraced every layer of my being. At a young age I was taught to always acknowledge right from wrong. If you see something, say something. But now it seems that everyone is hushed. Conversations about the way women and people of color are depicted in our society are almost forbidden. I realized if I want to see true growth for society, first I must find confidence within. I had to live fearlessly and had to live for myself. I no longer feel that I need to fit in because I now know I was born to stand out. Moving from Baltimore was one of the hardest things I have done in my entire life, but it opened my eyes to so much more. Society had created an image for me and everyday I diverge from it and create my own. I know that I am powerful, so I carry this into everything I do. I’ve created my own image of success. I am no longer just a woman of color, I am a woman of power. The limits that society tries to put on me only motivate me to prove them wrong. S O N D E R ISSUE NO. 2

A GUIDE TO

BLACK HAIR Antwane Abron-Hylton

air offers black people a way to represent who they are as people. It helps break down prescribed beauty standards and different social constructs that black people face. Hair—weave, box braid, corkscrew, up knot, fade, dreadlocks, twists, wavy, bantu knots, afro, curls—helps express those values and interests. Each and every hairdo offers a slight glance into the lives of black minorities, letting them set their own standards, celebrating something natural. Beauty companies have stirred up controversy regarding people of color, making beauty standards Eurocentric, specifically preferring lighter skin. For example, a recent controversy with a Dove ad was seen as racially insensitive. A white woman was shown taking off a white T-shirt and underneath was a black

woman, who proceeded to take off her shirt to show a Latina. The ad has been taken out of context, but the image was still present. Old soap ads depicted black people in bathtubs getting out to show white skin, resulting in outrage for years to come. Black people’s hair is naturally nappy, oily, thick, and coarse-like compared to other hair types such as white people, whose hair is thin, wavy, or just plain straight. The hair follicles in black hair (ovular shaped) give black people a certain hair texture, making it curly. White hair comes out in a more circular shape so the hair is wavy or straight. Asian hair follicles are perfectly circular shaped so it comes out straight. Hormones may alter the appearance over time, but hair usually remains similar in shape from birth. Black

hair naturally curls, twists, wild as can be. In today’s media black celebrities have to be careful of their hair choices. Actress Zendaya has been attacked by the media. Zendaya wore dreadlocks to the 2015 Golden Globes and Fashion Police host Giuliana Rancic said Zendaya’s hair made her “feel like she smells like patchouli oil. Or weed.” Zendaya responded: “there is already harsh criticism of African-American hair in society without the help of ignorant people who choose to judge others based on the curl of their hair." The media can make black hair “dirty,” while white celebrities are often commended for wearing similar hairstyles. Kylie Jenner was complimented for her locks by Rancic. This system can seem unjust and suffocating for black youth, for black society in general. Black hair is an integral part of who black people are; it represents culture, helps guide the ideals of black youth, and empowers icons wearing bold looks. Springfield High School students created different art pieces, each piece with a brief description of the hairstyle and origin.

TWISTS • A hair styles popular with afrotextured hair in the United States. • To achieve this look, divide the hair into small sections, twisting different sections one way, then twirling multiple sections together. • To keep the twists for long periods of time, the hair needs to be covered with a durag when sleeping. • Often used as protective hairstlying.

Emma Babcock

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BANTU KNOTS • Originated with the Zulu tribes in southern Africa. • To achieve this look, one would need to twist their hair around itself until it would knot, looking similar to stacked tires. • Used to protect hair. • Usually worn by women. • Were made popular by the Bantu people, the 85 million speakers of more than 500 distinct languages in southern Africa.

Hannah Barr

NATURAL • As aforementioned, black hair is made to curl. • Occurs naturally with black hair. • An afro is a natural hairstyle, but is seen as risky due to the fact that people will try to touch it, so kindly remind whoever attempts to, that you are not a pet. • Most natural hair has been affected by some sort of shrinkage, meaning that the hair is longer than it appears, often 30 to 80 percent.

Kioko Kozaki

DREADLOCKS • Can be traced back to ancient Egypt, India, and many other cultures. • There are many ways to achieve dreadlocks, letting your hair do what it wants or even not washing are a few. • Since the start of the 1970’s, white people haveworn dreadlocks in many different ways, and after beauty companies like Christian Dior used dreads in fashion spreads usage increased. • Dreads were adopted by Rastas, and due to Bob Marley's musical influence, the locks became popular worldwide.

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"A Lot Of Living To Do" Victoria Merino fights to rebuild herself and her life after illness hits. Guadalupe Reyes-Merino

Emma Babcock

At Kelly Butte Park, cancer suvivor Victoria Merino looks off into the distance.

waited impatiently at Willamette Valley Cancer Institute and Research Center, running my fingers through my hair for the 67th time. Four simple cream walls surrounded my parents and I. A typical hospital room, sparse and functional, is nothing new to me; the hospital is like my second home, and not in a good way. It emanates a stagnant smell, clean but the air of sickness is detectable. I heard a double knock on the door and the doctor walked in and introduced herself. Every action precise and purposeful, she always remained genuine and humble. She looked down at her chart and slowly explained the situation. Finally, she dropped the bomb, telling us my mom had stage three ovarian cancer. Her words splintered inside of me, causing more pain than I could imagine. Slowly, hot tears started rolling down my cheeks like raindrops rolling on a window, one after another. Leaving wasn’t an option and staying promised little hope. My mom, Victoriana Merino, always says, “¡Venimos al norte a trabajar no estar dormindo!” (We came to America to work not to sleep!). My mother has always been a fighter. When I was a year old, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and I never really understood what was going on. The love she gave me was strong enough to cover her affliction. In 2016, my mom kept complaining of discomfort in her abdominal area, but she always

said it wasn't a big deal. Cancer is very sneaky, a patient may not even feel it until the tumor is well developed and advanced in the body. Communication and awareness prove critical in prevention. Even if it feels like it’s no big deal, make an appointment and get an answer.

According to World Health Organization (WHO), “cancer, which accounted for 8.8 million deaths in 2015 (the second largest cause of death globally) is expected to increase by about 70 percent in the next 20 years.” Approximately $100 billion was spent over the past six years on cancer research in hope to find a cure. I can say it's the worst beast I’ve encountered in my life. But I’m not alone. Each year 12.7 million people get diagnosed with cancer. And 7.6 million people die, and statistics show that 30-40 percent of these deaths can be prevented. Cancer begins when a portion of DNA inside a chromosome is damaged, causing a cell to mutate. The mutated cell reproduces multiple times and creates a tumor. There are options, and most treatment plans include: chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, and more. It’s a process my mom knows well, having undergone six cycles of chemotherapy. I could see the sadness fade into her veins. It was a poison to her spirit, making her duller. There are a lot of side effects and emotional turmoil, but it all depends on the type of cancer. Most include hair loss, loss of appetite, depression, nausea, and pain that will arrive like the gift you never wanted. She described ovarian cancer like if your stomach was a balloon full blown and about to burst any second. My mom said, “it feels like your limbs are being torn off ” as she put her fragile hands into fists. Now 16 years later, cancer slithered back into our lives. I was

lost and confused. But sometimes nothing ever makes sense; it's just life doing its thing. In the end, we all need to realize how cancer can never be taken for granted. My mother was falling apart, but perhaps with love and support she could rebuild herself, a rioting star in the haunting dark sky.

On November 28, I returned to the Willamette Valley Cancer Institute, which provided support groups where all patients are welcome. Inside sat a huge meeting room, two walls full of windows, and snow white tables to match the matte black office chairs. Patients, family members, and friends gathered in a circle, introducing themselves. Unconditional love filled the room. Glenda, a woman from Florida in her mid 40s with short brown hair, explained how in April, doctors detected spots on the liver and a mass ascending her colon on the intestine. They removed her lung less than a year ago, but a tumor grew to the size of her fist. Every time she ate, she felt as if the food stopped at the top of her stomach. Her treatment followed with three days of chemotherapy and 11 days of rest for a month. She described her symptoms: tired, nauseous, and massive headaches. “I had one little meltdown when they finally diagnosed me,” she admitted. A social worker within the circle asked how she’s feeling now and she answered, “really good, I have a lot of living to do.” She smiled. Her spirit reminded me of my mom’s. Her husband, Phillip, sat next to her and took a turn. Philip described the devastating news as if it was a punch to the gut. He said, “we are going to beat this thing; she had previous surgeries for other stuff and I told her it's another operation and we are going to beat it. We will get through it.” We all have to get through it.

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Ramona Cabrera cleans cactus for customers in downtown Springfield.

BLURRING

BORDERS Ramona Cabrera shares her culture. Erika Arciga

Benjiman Walsh

ricaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Meat Market sits on the corner of 6th and Main Street, one of the busiest streets in Springfield, Oregon. Bright, multicolored piĂąatas hang from the ceiling inside the store. The smell of carnitas fills the air. Refrigerators softly hum 24/7, but after being there a while, they go unnoticed. The building feels like a sanctuary, like home. Beautiful Latino music plays from a speaker in the back corner of the store in the carniceria where you will find Ramona Cabrera. On most days, you can find Cabrera doing one of two things, peeling cactus or making tamales. She taught herself to make tamales when she worked in a restaurant in Santa Rosa, California. When she lived in Mexico, she learned to peel cactus, which felt more like a hobby than work.

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Erica's Meat Market on Main Street and 6th Street in Springfield, Oregon.

Cabrera chit chats with customers while working the cash register with ease, it comes as second nature. She continues to do the things she learned long ago. It is for that reason the store thrives. After having the same shop in the same corner of town for over 12 years, the storeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s reputation has grown. People continually return to the shop and they know Cabrera and her partner well. They have lived in the United States for a few decades. They work, pay taxes, and help the economy. They are immigrants and they help make America great.

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In 2005, the number of Mexican immigrants coming into the United States was at 1.7 million a year. Fast forward 10 years, that number dropped 90 percent to around 170,000. As years pass, the amount of people coming into the country rapidly decreases and less people are caught while crossing. About $14 billion is spent annually on security across the 1,954-mile border. Less people attempt to cross the border as the prices that human smugglers, coyotes, charge continually increase; many are

unable to pay for their service. The prices have skyrocketed not only for Hispanics, but for Asian, African, and European immigrants as well. Although the costs for Hispanics has only gone up a couple thousand dollars, their chance of detection is higher, a trip over the border is not a 100 percent guaranteed success. For Asian immigrants, the cost of human smuggling can be upwards of $75,000 per person. This is because the distance they travel is much greater and people are more likely transported to port cities such as San Francisco and New York City.

Cabrera stands in front of the festively decorated store.

Cabrera was 29 years old the first time she came to the United States, joined by two siblings. She had to leave her two sons in the safe hands of her mother, one 9 and the other 8. She came to the United States hoping to make money to support her children. In the 1980s, it was much easier to cross the border. Cabrera remembers waiting to leave Tijuana where the streets were covered with vendors selling random things: blankets, clothing, and food. In Tijuana she felt uncertainty, but the presence of her siblings brought Cabrera reassurance. Wandering coyotes asked: “¿Vas para el otro lado?” If they were crossing the border, the coyote would bring them to a house, where they would stay a couple days. The coyotes called family members in the United States, ensuring they had enough money to pay for the crossing.

Three coyotes would go with each group, sometimes those groups would have up to 30 immigrants. One coyote went ahead of others to make sure the coast was clear. One stayed with the group to assure they all followed the route. The last coyote would follow behind so none of the immigrants would get lost. Cabrera remembers walking in the dark, through the "cerro" as she would say. Most of the night was spent walking, their destination being a house that she guesses was in the United States. Afterwards, everyone was put in a van and brought to Los Angeles. Once they arrived, el coyote, would call the families again to arrange a time for drop off and payment. In 1986, a coyote would charge about $300 to bring someone over the border from Mexico. Today, people pay approximately $8,000 to get over the border.

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Ramona Cabrera brings Mexican traditions to life.

Cabrera was born on April 13, 1957 in Guanajuato, Mexico, a small town with no paved roads, only dirt. The closest town was three miles away, the closest house a mile away. Except, they were not houses. They were rooms, two rooms to be exact. Rooms made of rock vaguely resembling a house. Cabrera and her family grew corn, beans, wheat, and squash. They sold what food remained. Cabrera and her siblings raised goats, cows, turkeys, and chickens.

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She attended school only two years. Cabrera and her sister, Belen, were the first in their family to go to school. She got a pack of six crayonsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;yellow, green, red, blue, black, and brown. Having been part of the 46.2 percent of the population in poverty, the crayons were quite a luxury. Considering the extreme poverty and lack of educational opportunities, Cabrera decided for the sake of her children, it was best to leave. Immigrants continue to come over the border with promises of

jobs and higher wages. Many come to make more money for the sake of their children, just as Cabrera had done. Although she did make money to help her children and her parents, she will never be able to make the same amount that an American worker can. The average Hispanic female makes 58 cents for every dollar an American makes, yet Hispanics make up 20 percent of the American workforce. Many studies have shown that immigrants end up working an average of 2,327 hours a year while the average American

Cabrera shows daughter Erika Arciga some motherly love.

works an average of 1,796 a year. Hispanics make about $681 per week while Americans make roughly $837 per week. Today, Cabrera and many others hold on to their culture. The store is a way to share Mexican traditions with the people of Springfield. The store also represents modern America. Immigrants make up 18 percent of all small business owners in the United States, which in turn creates more jobs for American workers and advances the work industry. Their contribution to society is both economical and

cultural, and Cabrera provides a bridge. She does not define the American Dream because that consists of happiness and freedom. She follows the rules of society but does not get anything in return. She is not seen as a citizen. Rather, she is seen by many as an alien that does not belong in America. Yet, she makes America great by putting others before herself. She took risks to give her children a better life. By leaving her children behind, risking her life, and coming to America, she created an incredible opportunity for me to achieve my dreams.ď&#x20AC;ź

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A WA L K IN WORN OUT SHOES Benedicto Penaloza

Sonder journalist Benedicto PeĂąaloza spends a night in the cold, hoping to gain a piece of perspective into the lives of the homeless.

Benjiman Walsh

CONTENT

he bitter cold hits me as I step outside into the park where I will make my bed for the night. The kind of bitter that is so unbearable that all I want is to spit it out in disgust and wash it away with the sweet warmth of my bed. Only a few hours ago I was laying beneath my sheets, warm and safe. Now I find myself in my neighborhood park at 11:00 p.m. It’s not typically something I’d recommend, but tonight I’m sleeping out here. The cold is uncomfortable while I step out of my car and pop open my trunk to take out my bedding. I lay two tarps over my shoulder and I begin to make my way over with pencil and paper in one hand and sleeping bag and flashlight in the other. It’s

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cumbersome to move the whole load and my five layers of clothes. It offers a reminder that I’m only out here for one night. For a truly unfathomable amount of people, this is their reality. Ahead I see a little area that’s surrounded by tall grass. I determine that is where I will sleep. As I begin to lay down the tarps I can see forming frost. I remember seeing the night's low was 28°F. My breaths turn into tiny clouds of vapor, and the cool air freezes my fingers anytime I slip off my gloves. Before falling asleep, I stay up for a while to write down notes while sitting on a bench at the front of the park. As every car passes, I begin to worry as to how the night will go. I wonder if anyone sees me as they drive past. The eerie

silence that surrounds me suddenly breaks by a violent horn of a train. The deafening sound vibrates the ground below me. Suddenly, the fact that I was sleeping outside settles in. I keep in mind that police could be called at any point and I might have to have a conversation as to why I am doing this. Eventually, I doze off. Throughout the night the train and cold momentarily wake me up, and in these short moments of consciousness, every sound makes it that much harder to sleep. On January 25, 2017, 1,529 people were counted homeless in Lane County alone. This number increased compared to the previous year (1,451). While the trend has been going down, the recent

increase is not good news. More people find themselves in poor living situations, with all different causes for displacement. As reported on the city of Eugene’s website, 640 of these people are chronically homeless, meaning 640 people go years without a home. While some do not actively look for a home this number includes many families, 269 are part of a family with children. Furthermore, 435 of them suffer mental illnesses, the odds already stacked against them. I decided to sleep outside on a December night to truly empathize with those who live this reality. They are all over the Springfield and Eugene community. My church recently participated in St. Vincent de Paul’s Interfaith Night Shelter, where families

stayed the night there and have dinner together. They move all their belongings in cargo crates you might find on a train. During dinner, I talked to a few of the families. They shined a light on how difficult it can be to get back to normal. Vanessa Rodriguez stated, “it’s so hard to get home when people deny you even a chance to get a house.” People struggle to find a home and are not neccessarily victims of drug addiction. A lot of people are forced out of their houses by increasing rent prices. The Ramnaths were evicted by Umbrella Properties and found it difficult to find a new place in time. The father, Tony, had recently gained custody of his son who struggles with autism. After many custody battles, Tony loved having

his son back with him. While living in their apartment, the landlord moved in an older woman next to them who did not like the noise that his son would make and complained, eventually calling the cops. This was a large stress to Tony, his wife Connie, and his six children. Having an autistic son, Tony took more personal days from work to care for his son, Arlo. The result: Tony could not make enough money to support the family. The family did not just sit around, they looked for help. Through St. Vincent de Paul’s First Place, they received a check to complete that month’s rent, however, according to Tony the landlord would not accept the check. The situation only grew worse. Vanessa Rodriguez and her

The painted freight containers (right) are used by Interfaith Night Shelter families to haul their belongings.

"Art" (above), a man in downtown Eugene, prefers the term "traveler" instead of "homeless." S O N D E R ISSUE NO. 2

A frost-covered plant hangs above Penaloza's sleeping bag.

family were also a part of the program. They have been trying to get their own place, but she says “there are 50 other applications ahead of you at every place. Sometimes they don’t even look at my application.” On top of that many places ask for wages to be three times the rent. Often this is not doable for people living on the street. Plenty of people attempt to help. Becky Beck, the program coordinator of Interfaith Emergency Shelter, selects families to put in Interfaith Emergency Shelter. There she helps them find houses, jobs, and helps them overcome barriers they have that keep them from improving their situation. Beck has been doing this for over eight years. With time, she’s been able to make the whole program run smoother. Interfaith Emergency Shelter fits under the St. Vincent de Paul’s umbrella and has a simple mission: “we believe in building

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relationships, we believe that with that we change people’s lives.” Beck’s work continues to provide proof. One couple she met found it difficult to accept any help because they had trouble trusting anyone, to the extent that they had the baby in a field because they feared the hospital would take their baby away. They finally agreed to be a part of Beck’s program, specifically to trust her. A few months later they moved

to California and now have a house. For Beck, building relationships is everything to making a difference in people’s lives. A lot of problems they have, like not being able to trust people, are not their choice. Many of the homeless throughout Springfield and Eugene at first glance seem to be a nuisance, but they all have unique stories, stories of losing control of life, driven into situations where they not only lose homes but their lives and identities are fractured as a result.

Many people live teetering on the edge of having to sleep outside. When I was 5 years old, my parents applied to Habitat for Humanity for a house because our apartment complex had raised the rent higher than what my father could afford. I was too young to feel the anxiety of the situation, but now looking back I can’t imagine being aware of something like that. Even through my night of sleeping outside I was overwhelmed by the anxiety of all the unknown. When I woke up I was disoriented. My phone had run out of battery and I didn’t have connection to anyone. When I packed up, I wanted to make sure I did not bother early morning joggers. To no surprise it was still freezing outside. It was definitely not an experience I would wish for every night. I get to go home and live the life of a typical teenager. For too many people sleeping outside is a harsh reality.

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URBAN LUMBER MAN Seth San Filippo follows his dreamsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;all it took was a longboard. Catherine Oswalt

Benjiman Walsh

eenagers have some of the most creative and inventive minds in society, but often their dreams are stifled, taken apart and told that nothing can come of them. Originality is hard to come by in the modern world, especially in a world where mediocrity reins. Yet, when one takes an interest in something, transforms it into dream, receives support from parents and peers, such visions can be willed into existence. Seth San Filippo had a simple wish: a longboard. These longer skateboards, shaped like surfboards, were hard to come by 15 years ago and have only recently gained popularity. So San Filippo, an adventurous teen and an avid snowboarder and surfer, sought to make one for himself and his brother. His creations did not go unnoticed. People soon started asking where he got them. He explained that he made them himself. This only increased their value in the eyes of inquirers. Seeing this as an opportunity, he asked his parents for a $1,000 loan, and with their support he began selling them at the Saturday Market. The rest is history. Now 15 years later, his innovative design skills and passion have led to the Urban Lumber Company in downtown Springfield. San Filippo appreciates Springfieldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rich history surrounding the wood industry, celebrating the old milling businesses that dominated the town and the state in earlier years, while creating a niche all his own. San Filippoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mission: salvage fallen urban trees and turn them into beautiful and environmentally safe furniture.

Seth San Filippo watches over the Urban Lumber Companyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s warehouse, located in an old mill in Springfield.

Entering the showroom, a fresh scent of cut wood, clean and fragrant, fills the air. The bright, pristine atmosphere features furniture clearly made with care. Out a door and through the bombarding sounds of machinery, a man steps from the noise. In worn jeans, brown Carhartt beanie, and flannel, San Filippo is clearly the man in charge. Born in Roseburg, San Filippo actually grew up in northern California before making his way to the Springfield-Eugene area as a young adult. Being the man in charge never really seemed possible. “I never imagined I would own a lumber company; it’s not a family business or anything like that,” says San Filippo. “When I was about 19 I started building longboards, skateboards mostly, just for friends and for myself, and everywhere we’d go people would ask us where we got those.

Both San Filippo’s showroom and warehouse contain pieces of history. 50

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"I started building these custom skateboards that ended up shipping all around the world. We sold hundreds of them off of websites and in shops.” A principle ideology began to form. “I started noticing around town all these huge city trees we have and that they occasionally come down or get cut down and they weren’t being used,” says San Filippo. “So I started cutting those up and using them for my skateboards and here we are about 12 or 13 years later and it’s turned into a big lumber company.” Taking such an environmentally savvy approach helped define the developing corporation. But managing a lumber company proves difficult. “Starting any new business is hard, they say the success rate is pretty low for new businesses. Like 90 something percent of new businesses fail within the first five years and that’s just because it’s hard," says San Filippo. "You have to put in a lot of hours, it takes a lot of money. I happened to start right before the worst economy since the great depression, which I didn’t foresee.” Missteps and blunders occurred,

but San Filippo now leads ten employees in a massive, 30,000 square foot operation filled with freshly cut wood. San Filippo says “every cut of wood here is unique, just like every tree and every piece we create. “We like the idea of the old and the new being used together to create something, because it’s not just about our products, it’s in everything we do. Reusing is huge around here.” Whether it be working with his hands or transforming the business to fit his visions, San Filippo takes every opportunity to be creative. He relishes being his own boss and in the raw American entrepreneurship that goes along with it. And through years of hard work he consistently finds success. “I’ve always told people I don’t feel like I possess anything extra special as far as my skill set,” says San Filippo. “I’m not like the best business person; I’m not the best woodworker; I’m not the best at a lot of things. However, I am persistent and I don’t really give up. I’m kind of relentless and I think that’s been one of the things that’s made me successful."

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“Some of the creativity I’m most proud of is not just the pieces we build, but it’s how we get it done, because when someone wants a 80-foot sofa and, in fact, that sofa had to go to the fifth floor roof of this high end hotel. So it’s not only building it and thinking about that, but it’s the logistics of how we’re actually going to get it up there, and it was under a tight timeline and there were all these other factors involved and you got to get really creative.” Even the building has something to contribute to the Urban Lumber Company philosophy. “This is a neat old building,” says San Filippo. "There’s a lot of history here and with the town, wood products and this being an old mill site, obviously. The mill was made by the city founders and we moved in about three years ago. So it’s kind of cool

we are doing wood stuff again, modern and salvaged.” Through the maze of lumber, sits a self-made band saw, custom built out of various parts of machinery to fit the company’s specific needs. Big wheels, blades, and bands come to life as it roars. There are more World War II era parts, motors from an old building down the street, and auto lift from an auto shop originally used for lifting cars, all welded together by San Filippo to help cut and shape the trees they bring in. Outside of the warehouse, a large sign has verses that refer to an “Urban Lumber Man.” A song reads: "Day is done for now I must rise to. The work at hand, steady as the

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timber. Of this land, I’m an Urban Lumber Man." San Filippo explains, “oh, that’s the song to a potential reality show we have in the works. We have been approached by a couple networks and that is the beginnings of what could very well be a theme song.” The verses truly captured the essence of not only the company, but San Filippo, a man who has proved time and time again what it means to be a working part of

the American Dream. Rugged, hardworking, and prideful, San Filippo recognizes his accomplishments but always remains excited for what comes next.

Original reporting by: Avery Barrett Tyler Hiatt Ruby Dale Taydem Napier James Dewis Ray Soice

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WRESTLING EXPECTATIONS Cheyanne Kester is her own determinate and confronts preconceptions in a "man's sport." Emma Babcock

Emma Babcock

sit in my car, lacing up my ankle braces. I try to hype myself up... it’s not working. I arrive early, stand in the giant room above the main gym, nervous out of my mind. I wear sweatpants, a tank top, and tennis shoes, hoping to blend in. The butterflies in my stomach turn into hammers, punching my gut with every breath. Breathe, I say to myself. Granted, my only past experience with wrestling had been with my brothers and sister. I only know how to beat someone weaker than me, and although athletic, I am devoid of all wrestling knowledge. Hey, I think, I’ll learn some new tricks and skills to use to my advantage with my siblings in any future brawls. In the moment, I underestimate the amount of pain, tolerance, and strength I’d need to get through one practice with the Springfield High School wrestling team. Beaten and worn black mats with wide yellow circles cover the

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floor, voices sound in the distance, and soon athletes cover the mats, hooting and hollering to the music playing from a speaker. The group is raucous, throwing balls at each other and wrestling on the ground. Head coach Kyle McClain gathers the group, takes attendance, then discusses uniforms, fundraisers, and equipment. Authoritative, yet encouraging, he concludes the short meeting. Wrestlers get up and begin to jog stair laps. I quickly notice that the team is not solely made up of boys. A few girls, three to be exact, are on the squad. A girl with short, wavy hair runs confidently on her toes, seeming to lead the pack. Her dirty blonde curls bounce as she jogs in an oval of overwhelming testosterone. She wears a grey Springfield Wrestling T-shirt reading “Defy the Doubts.” After what seems like forever, we finish on the mats, and begin drills. Wrestlers warm-up with a series of drills dictated by coach McClain.

Some elect to yell along with the music, a few howl, and others silently perform the actions. Junior Cheyanne Kester is nimbler than most and quick on her toes. Yet, her beaming smile shines above her performance. The team split into pairs, and I realized that I stood lanky and awkward, unaware of what I was supposed to do. Sisters Cheyanne and Taja Kester motioned me to go with them. We worked out a system. They showed me the drill a few times, until I caught on. The other wrestlers giggled as I struggled with each position, gritting my teeth, determined to prove my worth. They went through the motions like water flowing and working together. I looked like the branch that fell into the water, disturbing every wave and droplet. Cheyanne, the elder sister, let out a silly shriek as she laughed and attempted to complete a difficult move. She puts heart and

Benjiman Walsh

Editor-in-chief Emma Babcock tries out some new moves out on the wrestling mats. SONDER 1

Cheyanne Kester has found that wrestling has made her a more outgoing person, and more likely to stand up for herself.

soul into this sport—evident in her concentration, dedication, and her contagious laughter. Finally, after trying a few more drills, I got one perfect on the first try. “You’re a natural!” Coach grinned at me as I awkwardly fumbled around on the mat. Half the time, I sat at the edge of the mat, perplexed. I watched the girls perform a move, trying to connect their limbs back to their rightful bodies. Then I realized blood flowed from my left thumb. I laughed and showed the wrestlers. “My first battle wound!” I exclaimed, laughing. We performed another action, that requires a strong neck. When executed correctly, the wrestler puts their head in one spot, and walk around it with their feet and an arched back. Of course, I couldn’t do this. My results looked more like an awkward contortionist with a bad hair day, caused by static from rubbing my hair against the mats. I watched Cheyanne flawlessly perform the drill. My respect for her and her skills increased exponentially with each minute. She remained calm and good natured, but she will put you in a headlock and render you useless if you do so much as try to cross her. Though she laughed, a lot, much pain and hard work comes from this sport. But this seems true of all women throughout the history of sports.

— Cheyanne Kester Although I didn’t participate in a real match, I received some tips from the wrestlers. Because she is in the minority, Cheyanne sometimes wrestles boys in her matches. Occasionally, a girl comes to meet her on the mat. Cheyanne explained the differences with wrestling either gender. “Boys in general, tend to beat around the bush a bit, get a feel for you first before they decide to take you down. With girls,” she snapped her fingers, “off the whistle.” She explained how the outcome develops rather quickly. Some people have questioned her abilities, exclaiming “you can’t wrestle boys because you’re not good enough; you’re not strong enough.”

of Springfield wrestling alumni who have inspired her—Bryce McCormick, Brayden Rogers, and Joe Michelson. She also looks up to wrestling champion and Olympic gold medalist Helen Maroulis, who beat a three-time champion at the Rio Games last year. As for the immediate future, Cheyanne has her heart set to “kick butt at district, and hopefully qualify for state.” Because she is a junior, she hopes to finish in the top at state in the following year as a senior. Cheyanne aspires to wrestle in college as well as study and get a PhD in epidemiology (disease studies). “The other guy’s record means nothing in the face of your dreams.” She applied this quote to herself as a Cheyanne began wrestling wrestler, as she has been dedicated her freshman year, after hearing and persistent in her strenuous announcements over the intercom. climb towards the top. However, this Since then, she has fallen in love with doesn’t solely apply to wrestling, wrestling because it doesn't require or even sports specifically, for that strenuous running, throwing, or matter. She put her mind to meeting In 1972, a new federal law, called catching balls. She found her niche. her goals and achieving her dreams, Title IX of the Education Amendments Thankfully, she has received nothing and recognized she must endure Act, changed sports for women but positive feedback. Listeners challenges and face obstacles. forever. It states, “no person in the are never short to compliment And as for me, I survived a day United States shall, on the basis of her and rave about her being with Springfield High’s wrestling sex, be excluded from participation in a stereotypical man’s sport. team. Upon conclusion of practice, in, be denied the benefits of, or Because of wrestling, Cheyanne has I was voted by the wrestlers to be subjected to discrimination developed confidence. “I’m a lot more call out the team break. Shocked under any education program or outgoing, and I’ve learned to be more and ecstatic given the honor, I activity receiving Federal financial honest and to try to be more upfront happily yelled, “one... two... three... assistance.” about how I feel about things,” she Millers!” We hooted and hollered, Essentially, this requires that no says. She recognized how the sport glad to be done with the workout. one be discriminated on the basis has helped her acknowledge the After, spent and sweating, I sat in of gender. Standing on the mat, I importance of healthy habits, saying my car, reflecting on the past two felt empowered. Not only because “I’ve been more aware about what I hours. I need to try that one drill I could do a “man’s sport," but put into my body, what I eat.” on my sister, I thought, grinning. I because I didn’t give up. Cheyanne recounted the names immediately began to write.

Emma Babcock

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and Oregon geography. Students walked away from these experiences connected to a larger ecological : 's Note r e s community and each other. I think i v Ad that’s why people passed House Bill 2544, to give students these kinds of opportunities. Every summer, I try to take a trip to the Sierra Nevada. I talk about it so much it probably drives my students crazy. But it’s there that I came up with the whole idea for Ivan Miller MINE. Every year I return from my adventures with renewed ideas on how students can change the we did everything outside of the box, world. This past summer proved s an educator, I dream no different. On July 24, I woke up specifically spending time outside of blending disciplines at 5 in the morning to drive 511 of the classroom, where students (English, science, geography, miles from Eugene to Silver Lake. developed an environmental journalism) and taking kids outside, My wife (Kelsi) and my three-year consciousness. For two years, which is technically written into old son (Emerson) both understand students took four classes—AP Oregon law. In 2009, Oregon my obsession with the outdoors. comp, outdoor literature, and two declared a state of emergency As I said goodbye, Emerson asked, regarding environmental education. rounds of journalism—as part “Daddy’s going to the mountains?” of the Miller Integrated Nature I’m driven to help fix the problem. My good friend Charlie Wilshire Experience (MINE). I asked that they House Bill 2544 states that “time envision themselves as professional and I spent eight days on a section spent outdoors for learning during of what climber and author Steve journalists, while practicing the school day is critical to the ecological stewardship. In the face of Roper deemed the Sierra High intellectual, emotional, and physical Route, a 195-mile course that health of students.” In linking outdoor struggle, I always offered the same largely remains above timberline. education and magazine journalism, advice: survive. Believe me, there were countless blunders, oversights, One highlight of the trip came at Springfield High School students Blue Lake Pass, where we spent the and failures along the way, but in have accomplished a great deal. night. From the top, we had stunning the end, they formed a family-like Last year, a group of students community and built two outstanding views—Banner Peak, Mt. Ritter, and published the first addition of the Minarets on the Ansel Adams Sonder magazine, and they won best publications, one highlighting the Wilderness side, Evelyn Lake and Springfield community and the magazine in the state. I think that Yosemite National Park on the other success stemmed from the fact that other covering the environment

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side. The sun set majestically over the pass and we were illuminated in a moment of alpine glow perfection. Basking in a bit of dirtbag bliss, I thought about Jack Kerouac’s novel Dharma Bums, specifically a character named Japhy Ryder—an eastern Oregon bred mountain man turned Zen Buddhist. In the book, Ryder takes Smith (Kerouac) into the Sierra Nevada to climb the Matterhorn. Smith never makes it to the top. Ryder on the other hand runs up in nothing but a jockstrap, triumphantly yodels, and later makes the point: “once you get to the top of the mountain, keep climbing.” Smith wishes more people could experience the climb and make the triumphant yawp to the heavens, but Ryder suggests, “those things aren’t made to be heard by the people below.” I pondered a possible relation to the education system, in which it seems a mountainous divide exists between the highest achievers and folks who have yet to encounter a mountain, literally and figuratively. Over the last four years, I have made it a point to take students outside. It’s no end all, but there’s something to being a Dharma Bum, those who refuse to be “imprisoned in a system of work, produce, consume.” Ryder envisions an alternate path: “I see a great rucksack revolution thousands or

even millions of young Americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray… Zen lunatics who go about writing poems,” having “visions of eternal freedom.” That’s what I felt on top of Blue Lake Pass. That’s what I want desperately for students, visions of eternal freedom, kids learning to call the shots. One of the key results of House Bill 2544 was the Oregon Environmental Literacy Plan (OELP), which fully endorses place- and communitybased education, something MINE has thrived on for three and a half years. According to the OELP, this approach grabs young peoples’ attention by “engaging them in the process of devising solutions to the social and environmental problems they will confront as adults.” Many people do not realize we have global water shortages, pollution, and mass species extinctions. Worse, my generation will probably do nothing when it comes to really addressing

climate change, and dwindling natural resources. But my students might. Perhaps some of their newfound journalism and survival skills will help them affect some sort of change. The world needs it. From Blue Lake Pass, I happily scrambled up 12,057-foot Forester Peak first thing in the morning. Reaching the summit, adrenaline, endorphins, and oxytocin took over, pure bliss. That was the high and then came the low. Charlie and I did exactly what everyone warns against, we got lost. In the book Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why, Laurence Gonzales suggests the reason people end up getting lost is they build incorrect mental maps, what Gonzales calls “a schematic of an area or a route.” Once lost, people trick the brain into blindly going on. Eventually, people panic because they no longer have the ability to construct a mental map that matches the environment in which they are lost. We just took out at a map and used GPS. Reoriented, we simply followed the trail through the Yosemite Wilderness to the next destination. Strangely, I felt more disoriented. I had an epiphany that as an educator I work in a system that sometimes blindly forges ahead, but for what purpose? At some point, rather than going nowhere, admitting you’re lost might be the key to survival, and developing the ability to find your way out of trouble becomes imperative. Author Daniel Coyle would argue that purposely setting out to make mistakes, then learning to correct

Ivan Miller ponders outdoor education while trekking the Sierra Nevada mountains. Charlie Wilshire

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them, is the best course of action. His book The Talent Code: Greatness isn’t born. It’s grown. Here’s how. explores the impact of a neural insulator called myelin, which allows for physical and mental growth. Coyle says that “skill is a cellular insulation that wraps neural circuits and that grows in response to certain signals.” So the more time and effort a person puts into a certain practice, say writing, the more myelin a person builds, which results in skill development. Coyle preaches deep practice, claiming that “struggling in certain targeted ways—operating at the edges of your ability, where you make mistakes—makes you smarter.” To a degree, students in the education system are encouraged to avoid mistakes. The common collegebound narrative urges students

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to strive for a near perfect GPA, flawless test scores, step-by-step routines, etc. This type of education system inadvertently builds cautious, overly anxious kids stressed out of their minds. Coyle might argue we flip the narrative and turn up the heat, highlighting a key primal motivational cue: “you are not safe.” Kids need an educational experience that teaches them how to survive in the 21st century, not how to avoid mistakes. Charlie and I may have temporarily fallen off the High Route, but I rediscovered something more important, a philosophy of action— empower kids to climb the mountain. After all, if they’re going to properly address climate issues, resource depletion, and water shortages, they need to have experience

overcoming things that were once seemingly impossible, even if they make mistakes along the way. This year, I took a class of students with no journalism experience, taught them a bit of leadership, and set up my class so they would fumble through every type of journalistic writing. I also made them go outside. The result: in just three months they learned enough to produce an incredible magazine. My mission remains the same: take students outside, and hope they are convinced it’s all worth saving. That and help students find their voice and a sense of direction. After all, life is about following your own trail, taking on the impossible, surviving all the mistakes, and as Japhy Ryder would say, “once you get to the top of the mountain, keep climbing.”

Ivan Miller

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SCHOOL OF JOURNALISM AND COMMUNICATION ENVIRONMENTAL LEADERSHIP PROGRAM HOLDEN CENTER

Special thanks to Diana Jordan, who always supported SHS journalism.

This is a MINE publication, produced at Springfield High School in Springfield, Oregon.

Ian Kerr