Visiting Voices

The Great I Am

Classically trained artist Gerald Roulette came to UP to speak about his life, his artistic process, and his painting The Great I Am, which is installed in University of Portland’s Clark Library. A work of abstract realism, The Great I Am depicts Christ as a person of color, speaking to the need for all of us to see representations of ourselves in the deity of Christ.

You can hear his talk in the archives section of up.edu/garaventa

BY JESSICA MURPHY MOO PHOTOS BY ADAM GUGGENHEIM ILLUSTRATIONS BY VIOLET REED

HOPE THROUGH A MICROSCOPE

For the span of her career Ami Ahern-Rindell has been working to understand—and eventually contribute to a cure for—a particular fatal genetic disease. Advances in science and technology are bringing her research closer to her goal. But the technology—CRISPR gene editing, specifically—raises a whole host of ethical questions. With the support of an applied ethics grant from the Dundon-Berchtold Institute, she is raising awareness and encouraging the campus to examine the issues.

Christina Buselli (left) and Ami Ahern-Rindell (right) pull cells from liquid nitrogen.

B

IOLOGY PROFESSOR Ami Ahern-Rindell remembers the phone calls to the lab during her postdoc years. Parents were calling to ask if she could help, to see if her research was ready to be applied in a clinical setting for their child. She was working in a molecular genetics lab, working to get to the bottom of the cause of a particular genetic condition called GM1 Gangliosidosis. The condition is fatal. Life expectancy for infants born with this condition is between two to four years. As you might imagine, those phone calls from parents of children who had been diagnosed with GM1 were heart-wrenching.

“For them you couldn’t find a therapy, a cure, quick enough,” Ahern-Rindell says. “They would hear that we were doing research and trying to figure out what was going on in GM1. They would ask us, ‘How far along are you? Can you find a treatment for my child?’ … These people wanted a cure, and you couldn’t give it to them. That was difficult. But at the same time, it was a very strong motivator, and it meant that we were going to work as hard as we could to learn as much as we could as quickly as we could in order to eventually help people.”

Thirty-five years later, Ahern-Rindell is still working to unlock the genetic secrets of this condition and to find a therapy and, she hopes, a cure.

“We still don’t have a treatment for GM1,” she says, “but I think we’re much closer.”

The cells that Ahern-Rindell uses in her genetic research have been frozen in liquid nitrogen since 1985. They are sheep cells (not human cells), and they are—she likes to point out—significantly older than her undergraduate students. She also points out that after 35 years of exposure to liquid nitrogen her fingertips can sometimes get a little numb.

In their frozen state, these sheep cells have traveled—from graduate work at Washington State University to her postdoc work at the Center for Molecular Genetics at the University of California, San Diego and on to her 25-year career at University of Portland.

During this time period, the cells themselves haven’t changed. Indeed, they have been frozen in time. Only when they are thawed in a warm water bath and placed in the right culture conditions do they again begin to divide and multiply. They are then ready for microscopic examination and for use in experiments that might elicit information.

Ahern-Rindell acquired these cells—they are cells from the tail skin of sheep—because a rancher came to the WSU Veterinary School to say that some of his sheep were having trouble keeping up with the rest of the flock. After running many different types of tests, they suspected that the sheep had GM1 Gangliosidosis, a fatal genetic condition that severely affects the nervous system. (In addition to humans and sheep, GM1 also presents in cats, dogs, cattle, black bears, and emus.)

To give you a sense of the challenge of narrowing down the potential locations of genetic mutations: In the 3 billion genetic base pairs in the human genome, the source of one mutation can be a change to just one base pair in the gene. In GM1, the gene that has been altered is called GLB1, which has been found to possess more than 100 different mutations, some of which don’t cause any disease. The odds are decidedly against the scientists, and yet they have made progress.

In the sheep model of GM1, Ahern-Rindell and her students have identified one base difference in this GLB1 gene when they compare the gene in the cells of healthy sheep and the gene in the cells of sheep presenting with the condition. AhernRindell is working to determine if this mutation is what causes GM1 in the affected sheep. Verification could be a game-changer for finding a treatment/cure for sheep and possibly (eventually) for humans.

The research is slow, slower than any parent on the other end of those decades-ago phone calls could have ever wanted. But Ahern-Rindell maintains hope—especially now, given the scientific and technological advances during the 35 years that those sheep cells have been dormant in that liquid nitrogen. Because of these advances, AhernRindell and her student researchers are able to unlock more of the cell’s molecular secrets than she ever could during the decades that she’s been looking at them through a microscope. As she says, “we’re closer.”

It’s somewhat easy for us to take a step back and think about the massive technological advances that have occurred over the past three-plus decades. Think about how we were writing papers, conducting and sharing research, or making phones calls 35 years ago. Enormous changes.

In the world of genetics, those leaps in knowledge and technology have been just as great, if not greater. The Human Genome Project, initiated in 1990, set about working to decipher the 3 billion base pairs that make up the human genome. Our scientific understanding of DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) has grown astronomically during this time.

Thirty-five years ago, we knew even less about RNA (ribonucleic acid), its structure, and the many roles it plays. Advances in our understanding of RNA have led to a new kind of technology—called CRISPR gene editing—which is a versatile molecular editing technique with potentially countless applications. It is also the next step in AhernRindell’s research with the GM1-affected sheep cells (more on CRISPR technology in a moment).

Defining DNA and RNA

DNA and RNA are in the nucleus of every cell of the human body. DNA, that beautiful spiral staircase, that double-stranded helix structure, contains all the information for humans to function, and it stays protected inside that nucleus. RNA, a single-stranded molecule made from DNA, has many diverse functions. It’s also a roamer. It goes in and out of the nucleus, and it also changes shape depending on its particular role. It can act as a gene regulator, a messenger, or as a kind of catalyst. It makes things such as proteins, like the antibodies that support our immune systems.

Ahern-Rindell had a formative experience when she was a teenager that helped her to decide to become a geneticist and molecular biologist. In her early teens, she was a regular babysitter for three young girls who had the genetic condition Cystic Fibrosis (CF). The second youngest of five siblings, Ahern-Rindell found she was suited to the chaos that sometimes is babysitting. The girls were able to do everyday kid activities—play with dolls, do puzzles, go outside—but she was always aware that they had to be careful. If the children got too physical, too worked up, they would cough. She tried to avoid that. She remembers putting them to bed in special tents that she zipped up to help with their breathing at night.

Initially, she thought she might want to be a doctor, perhaps a pediatrician who treated patients with conditions like CF. At that time there was no such thing as genetic counseling or much in the way of therapies for the condition. She grew in her understanding of genetic diseases. She understood that the girls had CF because a copy of the recessive gene had come from their mother and a copy of the recessive gene had come from their father. Then, tragically, the children passed away, and their deaths—and the reality that medical care does not always involve a cure—raised big questions for her. She started to wonder what was actually going on with this (or other) genetic conditions. She started to wonder if she might be better suited to lab work and trying to find a cure for genetic diseases like CF.

After an opportunity to do research as an undergraduate, Ahern-Rindell ultimately decided to pursue a career in a research lab and in teaching. She wanted to get to the molecular root of things, though she didn’t end up working on CF. She ended up in a lab working to unlock the secrets of GM1, first in cats and later in dogs and sheep. (I admit I find it fascinating how a scientist’s career has a good deal to do with interest, curiosity, and intuition, but it also has something to do with chance, i.e., which graduate school or lab has an opening or perhaps you happen to be working in a lab near a ranch with sheep who present with GM1.)

Those children that Ahern-Rindell babysat for did something else for this budding scientist. They made her think long and hard about the contribution she wanted to make to society, and how science and her role as a researcher and teacher of young people could be a part of making that contribution. She also began to think about the ethics involved in doing the work of science, both generally and specifically when it comes to research on the human genome. Bioethics eventually became an ongoing part of her career. In large part due to her efforts and one of her research students, and through funding from the Dundon-Berchtold Institute for Moral Formation and Applied Ethics, every student, faculty, and staff member at UP who is involved in any type of research now takes a tutorial in ethical research practices, how to handle confidential data, how to accurately give credit to others for their previous work, etc.

CONTINUED ON PAGE 18

Basic Science vs. Applied Science

Basic science (what Ahern-Rindell has been doing for 35 years) pushes research forward to create new knowledge, to present and test a hypothesis, or retest a revised hypothesis. There is an element of curiosity to basic science and a desire to understand how nature works. Applied science usually happens when there is a specific problem that needs solving and scientists are applying previous basic research and acquired knowledge to solve that problem. If the applied science has anything to do with medicine or humans, there is typically a whole host of regulations, approvals, and clinical trials that applied science must follow to bring forward a new technology to benefit society. A good present-day example would be the mRNA vaccines. Many years of basic science and study went into understanding the roles and various structures of RNA and its behavior pertaining to invading viruses (yes, including coronaviruses). Scientists applied this knowledge to the COVID-19 mRNA vaccine.

PHOTO COURTESY OF THE PHAM FAMILY

MEET RAIDEN The inspiration behind one UP alum’s pitch for more research into a rare genetic disease and potential gene therapies

If you would like to learn more about the Raiden Science Foundation, their story can be found at raidenscience.org

As I was working on this story about genetics research, several UP staff and alumni reached out to tell me about Tommy Pham ’09, MBA ’11, his beautiful family, and the rare disease research foundation Pham recently launched. The company is the Raiden Science Foundation, named after his two-year-old son Raiden, who has been diagnosed with a rare genetic UBA5 disease (so rare that there have been only about 30 genetically confirmed cases worldwide).

Before we get to the foundation, I want to introduce you to Raiden. I had the great good fortune to meet him. He is (as you see above) an off-thecharts cute kiddo, he smiles and giggles during peekaboo (especially when it’s his big sister playing with him), he enjoys pools in Hawai'i, and he likes engaging in a hand-tapping game with his mom. “He brings us so much joy,” his mom, Linda Pham, says.

The Phams have been very open about their journey as a family. Joy is part of this journey. It has also been very challenging. Raiden’s health battles have been hard—unthinkably hard—but he is also what motivates them every day.

Raiden was born in February 2020, right before the start of the pandemic. At three months Raiden stopped hitting milestones. He stopped being able to pick his head up and he vomited about 10 times a day, which led to failure to thrive. They endured many hospital stays, tests, and unofficial diagnoses, and they ultimately had surgery to place a g-tube in his stomach, so Raiden could get the nutrients he needs. Then, in August, they received results after sequencing his genes. The news wasn’t good news. UBA5, they learned, is a recessive, ultrarare, progressive neurological disease.

The family went through what Tommy calls a “dark period.” Tommy, a former biology major who has worked for OHSU and created a biotech startup (through his E-Scholar roots), knew how to read the results. There was very little literature out there on this particular genetic condition. There was no way to sugarcoat the news.

They then decided to take a trip to Hawai'i “to make family memories,” before coming back to come up with a plan. Tommy knew how to create a start-up. He knew scientists in the biotech field and elsewhere. He had a ready-made network. He knew who to reach out to.

“I’m an E-Scholar and an entrepreneur. I can start a foundation. I can control that. That’s not a problem,” he says. “But with my son’s health, there are a lot of variables. I can’t control that.”

So, mere months after the diagnosis, with three UP alums, a Nobel Prize-winning scientist, and a host of other professionals on the team and board of advisors, Raiden Science Foundation was launched. They are raising funds for therapy development and building community with other families walking a similar path. They are hoping their efforts and research (with the goal of getting to clinical trials and gene replacement therapy) will raise awareness of families dealing with the hardships of a rare genetic diagnosis.

I have immense admiration for the Pham family. Both Linda and Tommy work for Nike. Right now, they are working from home (truly, they are working 24-7). “We are racing against the clock and have one shot at this,” Tommy says.

“We have to start from scratch,” Linda says, “but we have to start from somewhere.”

Ahern-Rindell and her current research student, senior biology major Christina Buselli, are using CRISPR technology to try to verify that the base change they are seeing in the GLB1 gene of GM1affected sheep is actually the mutation that causes the condition in the sheep model. The base change should cause an enzyme deficiency (this enzyme deficiency is what ultimately leads to the deterioration of the nervous system).

How are they aiming to prove this? First they are taking healthy sheep cells and using CRISPR technology to target and “edit out” the healthy GLB1 gene and replace it with the altered version of the gene. If the healthy sheep cells start to express the enzyme deficiency, the science will be another step closer to showing that this base change in the GLB1 gene is the condition-causing mutation.

The next step would be to conduct the experiment in the other direction: start with a gene that exhibits the mutation that leads to GM1, then use CRISPR technology to “cut” or “edit” that mutated gene out and replace it with a healthy, functioning gene, thereby removing the condition-causing mutation. This would alter the sheep’s genome, and it would also cure them of GM1.

Rightly, all manner of ethical questions arise at the prospect of editing a being’s genome—microorganism, animal, plant, or human.

Ahern-Rindell wants to use her research to lean into the ethics of CRISPR technology, and she wants the community to lean in too.

“With any advances you make in science,” Ahern-Rindell says, “you have to think about the potential consequences. You cannot just do your research and not think about ethical concerns. With any new piece of knowledge you acquire in biology, you have to stop and think about: What is that science telling you? How can you apply that science in a beneficial way? Are there negative consequences to that scientific knowledge and how are you going to determine how best to turn the scientific knowledge into applied knowledge?”

Let’s think through a few hypotheticals as they could relate to the sheep cells.

If the gene editing is for purposes of medical treatment with GM1—to cure a disease, prevent suffering in a sheep—is that an ethical thing to do?

If you could edit that gene out in the cells that make sperm and eggs, then you could theoretically prevent the sheep from handing that gene down

to their offspring. How does that change the ethical considerations?

If, theoretically, you edit a sheep’s genes early enough (say, before cells have acquired diversified function), you might be able to remove that mutation so that it is never passed on in their family line ever again. How should we be thinking about that possibility?

Replace the sheep cells with human cells in the questions above and it’s not hard to think about how the application of gene editing—or CRISPR technology—to the human genome raises a whole host of serious concerns.

The scientific community has been thinking through the ethical concerns from the beginning. There is consensus among the global scientific community that doing gene editing on viable human embryos is not acceptable. Outside of the US, there is a scientist in prison for doing gene editing on two viable embryos, who are now young girls, in an attempt to prevent them from being infected by HIV and developing AIDS. This scientist crossed a line that was globally accepted in the scientific community (especially since there are established alternative treatments for AIDS).

And yet, before you get to that line, there are a lot of other uses of CRISPR that are important to think through.

Ahern-Rindell and Buselli were given funding to find out what the general student population understands about CRISPR gene-editing technology. Ahern-Rindell believes that society needs

CRISPR TECHNOLOGY PROCESS

What is CRISPR?

There is CRISPR and there is CRISPR technology.

CRISPR is a pattern in the DNA of bacteria. (The acronym itself stands for “Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats,” a mouthful for sure, but it does describe what it is. The “repeats” are the pattern.) Scientists found that this pattern is part of the natural defense system that bacteria use to defend themselves against invading viruses. Essentially, bacteria detect the DNA or RNA of an invading virus and (with the help of their own roaming shape-shifting RNA and the enzymes it helps make), the bacteria’s defense system breaks apart the virus’s genome (made up of either DNA or RNA). The bacteria then incorporate broken bits of the viral DNA into the bacteria’s own DNA.

The result?

Well, a pattern. But also the virus is disarmed. What’s left in the bacteria’s DNA genome is this repeated pattern of bases that allows the bacteria to continue to recognize and “remember” the virus and protect against that virus in the future. Pretty amazing stuff. Once scientists understood what CRISPR was, they started trying to figure out: how can we do what a bacterium does to a viral genome? CRISPR gene-editing technology essentially harnesses bacteria’s system—using RNA molecules—to target specific DNA and then replaces that targeted DNA with new genetic material. Then, using an enzyme (you’ll often hear CRISPR technology described with the analogy of scissors), the technology cuts the targeted DNA. This technology could be used like bacteria use it—for instance, to target and disable a virus, and then “remember” new incoming viruses. CRISPR technology can also be used to target and cut other genetic material, say, the single base pair responsible for causing GM1 Gangliosidosis in the sheep model, or any other gene. The potential applications of this technology are mind-blowing.

CRISPR gene-editing technology is being used for treatment of other diseases, including cancer. Some clinical trials with people who suffer from Sickle Cell Anemia, for instance, have shown success. People who have been sick their whole lives are now free from pain.

RNA with a matching sequence of the targeted DNA sequence guides the cutting enzyme (Cas9) to make a precise break in the DNA. After the targeted DNA is edited out, replacement DNA is added.

to be examining these questions, so they are starting with the corner of society that they know best: University of Portland.

It may seem simple to decide that if gene editing will save a child from a life-threatening disease, that this would be something good to explore.

But if changing a parent’s genetic code changes the genetic code in a family line forevermore, new questions arise. Who gets to make a decision about someone’s genetic line? If it means a child will avoid a fatal condition, or suffering, is it unethical not to make the change? What are the long-term evolutionary consequences of changing the human genome? Are the voices of those who live with disabilities being centered and heard in these discussions?

What happens if parents want to embark on a different kind of gene editing that doesn’t involve treatment for a fatal disease? What if people start wanting to make changes, or “enhancements,” in their offspring? Without regulations, what’s to stop a parent from saying they want, say, a child who has the necessary genes for becoming tall so she can play in the WNBA?

Recommended Reading

The Code Breaker: Jennifer Doudna, Gene Editing, and the Future of the Human Race, by Walter Isaacson, offers a detailed journey of the Nobel-winning biochemist’s career as she followed her research interests (largely her interests in the structure and behavior of RNA) toward the breakthrough of CRISPR gene-editing technology and beyond. This biography includes the big ethical questions, scientific competition (and a wide range of scientist-personalities fueling that competition), along with the ways in which these discoveries are relevant to the pandemic we are all living through at the moment. It’s a timely, highly informative page-turner for the general-interest reader.

And who will have access to this technology? Who will pay for it? Will it (won’t it) exacerbate disparities in health care or in society as a whole? What kind of regulations need to be in place? And another caution, what if editing one disease-causing gene makes you more susceptible to another disease, like cancer? Is it ethical to make that decision for someone other than oneself?

Ahern-Rindell doesn’t come with prescriptive answers, but she does want students (and the general public) to be asking questions. If this technology is here to stay, how do we use it responsibly and for the greater good?

University of Portland, a liberal arts institution with an Institute that funds research in applied ethics, is well-positioned to have these conversations thoughtfully.

“We’re trying to involve citizens and engage the public,” Ahern-Rindell says. And she wants to find ways to educate and combat misinformation. She wants to think critically and carefully about how we can move basic scientific knowledge from the lab into society in a thoughtful and safe way.

They will finish out the year working on the sheep model. They will see how far they get in their search for answers. Buselli will present on their findings in a Founders’ Day presentation this spring. She feels a certain responsibility. “People in younger generations are going to be responsible for using this technology for clinical applications,” Buselli says, “so it’s important to understand both the science behind it and the ethics behind using this technology moving forward.”

Buselli’s words ring especially true knowing that Ahern-Rindell is due to retire this year. These questions will indeed become the responsibility of the next generation. Ahern-Rindell is looking for a lab to continue work on her sheep cells and build on the body of knowledge that she has amassed in hopes that a treatment/cure for GM1 Gangliosidosis will be possible soon.

JESSICA MURPHY MOO is the editor of this magazine.

N THIS DAY during fall break we started at 7:30 in the morning and worked until about 3:30 pm. All the grapes needed to be picked. We were picking Tempranillo grapes. We pick the grapes along the midline of the plants and leave behind the grapes that are higher up. Usually, the fall harvest is from September to as late as the beginning of November. After the harvest, we prune the plants and get ready for the next bloom. I’ve worked all parts of the year, from the hottest days of the summer to the freezing cold temperatures during the winter. When the vines begin to grow in spring, we choose which ones to grow, and we cut the excess growth. We also cut the vines at the base of the plant—we call them “suckers” because they can take away nutrients. Then you wait until the grapes are ready to pick.

Harvest season is exhausting. It’s like a workout because you are sore for the first several days, almost as if you’ve done a bunch of squats. After continuous days you get used to it.

It’s a lot of work, so to mentally overcome the intense physical demands of the job, I often treat harvesting season as a competition between myself and my family and coworkers. We see who can make the most buckets that day. It’s $2 a bucket. On this day, I did about 75 buckets. How many buckets I fill depends on the type of grapes we are picking and how long we work that day. The bigger the bunches, the more buckets you fill in a short amount of time. You fill your bucket, dump it in the bin, and get one ticket per bucket. My dad drives the tractor that has the bins attached and gives out the tickets.

This day the tractor did about seven turns, and two rows of grape plants can be picked after each turn. It took roughly one hour a line. Each row is on average the length of threequarters of a football field.

My parents have always told me to work hard and to use my break to make money, so that I can pay for my personal and college expenses. Since they cannot financially help me for school, this is my way of helping them. Also, it’s a time to hang out with my dad, to spend time with my family. We chat all the time, we listen to music and talk about what’s going on with people, catching up on each other’s lives. Someone usually clips a speaker to their pants, and we listen to banda or older music that they listened to growing up.

When we knew a photographer was going to come this day, we told everyone and asked if they’d be OK if they might be in the background of a photo. As I usually work with jokesters (it seems), they agreed and said, “As long as I’m going to be famous!”

I am the first in my family to go to college, and I have pride in being an FGEN student. I think we sell ourselves short on the things we’ve already done. I’ve asked myself: Am I even a good student? But when I have time to myself, I think about the day I made the shift to come to college, something my parents didn’t do. It was a big leap. I did that. It’s something I’m proud of myself for doing. My family doesn’t always understand how big a deal it is to be doing well in college. They don’t always understand how big an accomplishment it has been.

I’m an FGEN mentor at UP because my high school mentor had a big impact on me and helped me find opportunities I didn’t know about. She played a big part in my journey

to UP, especially in finding financial assistance. Now I know of opportunities that can help other students, so I want to give back and share the knowledge I have.

My interest in medicine began when I tore my ACL playing soccer in high school. The orthopedic surgeon displayed a collection of knee models and figures that captivated my eye. This interest inspired me to volunteer at my local hospital in the surgery center, emergency, labor and delivery, and the neurology/orthopedic units where I got to experience different types of medicine. I enjoy working in the medical field. Two summers ago, in addition to working in the fields part-time, I worked as a COVID-19 screener, and I shadowed a nephrologist this past summer.

Communication is a crucial part of medicine, and I believe that having a physician who speaks your language and understands your culture is important to quality care. As a Spanish-speaking physician, I plan to serve those who are underrepresented and face a language barrier to ensure that those patients have access to the care that they deserve.

I have ambitious goals in life that I have shared with my family, one being my goal of becoming a physician. At home, some family members have nicknamed me “the doctor.” They say things like, “Make sure the doctor eats right.” They are meaning to encourage me, I know. I also feel a lot of pressure on me to fulfill this goal. A saying that my family tells me a lot—and one that has motivated me during times of doubt— has been “¡échale ganas!” It’s hard to translate exactly, but this is my translation: keep going, keep persevering, and keep working hard.

THREE ESSAYS TO NOURISH THE SPIRIT

ILLUSTRATIONS BY MADELINE MARTINEZ

BITS AND PIECES

BY FR. PATRICK HANNON, CSC

YEARS AGO I led a small group of students from Notre Dame High School for Boys outside of Chicago on a service learning trip to Ireland. We were joining Sister Mairead Hughes on an excursion she sponsored every summer for those teenagers from a tough and poor part of Dublin who had kept out of trouble for the most part, lovely rascals who could, for a couple weeks, hike green hills, kayak and swim along the inlet shores near Ferrycarrig, County Wexford, roast marshmallows, and snooze in sleeping bags in sweet night air. They all cussed, but I didn’t mind. Spoken in soft Dublin brogues, those crass words sounded lyrical. And they always apologized to Sister and me when we were within earshot. More than a few smoked. On the Feast of St. James, Sister gathered them together for Mass as a hen retrieves her wandering chicks. One of them, a girl of thirteen or fourteen, would have none of it. “Ah, but you know, don’t you, this is a feast of the Church,” Sister said solemnly. “And you are a Catholic, are you not?” “Ah, Sister Maireaaaaad,” the girl said. (Here I have her taking a drag from her cigarette.) “I am most certainly a Catholic. I just don’t believe in all that stuff.” I loved her audaciousness.

Another—I’ll call him Brendan—was the quietest of them all. You couldn’t help but notice the scar that ran from under his left earlobe to the edge of his chin. He was a small boy, thin and handsome, with a countenance that suggested he was always mulling over something important. In a quiet moment I asked Sister what had happened. Apparently his father had come home one night in an angry and drunken state and took a carpet cutter to the boy’s face. That explained—at least in that moment—why he was so soft-spoken. His wound, unlike most of ours, could not be hidden. Best to remain quiet. Best not to draw attention.

On a bus ride one day, Brendan spoke. “Can I have a look at your cap, Michael?” Michael—a young man of eighteen—was one of my students. He was sitting across from Brendan, next to me. Michael’s Notre Dame cap was his treasure. He began wearing it when he was a freshman, and by many accounts, never took it off except when he was inside school. Some said he wore it to bed. Well, Michael looked at me pleadingly, as though Brendan had asked for his left lung. (I am thinking now that Michael would rather have given Brendan his left lung.) I gave Michael no wiggle room, of course.

So Michael took off his cap, reached across the aisle and carefully handed it to Brendan. Brendan inspected it for a moment, noticed the fine stitching, the attentive shaping of its curved bill. He ran his fingers over the entwined ND letters on its face. Then he put it on his head and turned back toward the window to watch the world as it passed by him. I’ll tell you this: that day, wherever Brendan went Michael went. At day’s end, Michael made Brendan surrender the hat. This went on for the next week. Brendan’s ask. Michael’s pleading. Michael’s surrender. Michael becoming Brendan’s shadow until sunset. Brendan’s surrender.

The last day: my ND kids are hugging the kids from Dublin. They exchange emails. A long goodbye. I’m in the van watching it all from the rearview mirror. I see Michael looking for Brendan who has his cap. Brendan’s nowhere to be found. Ah, I see him. He’s poking his head out from the edge of the dorm a hundred yards away. He’s wearing the cap. Michael at last sees him. He makes his way, slowly, to Brendan. They meet like two old friends. Heads hanging down. Hands in pockets. They are conversing. Brendan finally looks up. He takes off the cap and hands it to Michael. Michael places it on his head, centers it perfectly. They shake hands. Michael turns and begins walking to the van. I pray to God, I do. I say, You can’t let the story end this way. Please God. I’m not asking for a Hollywood ending. No violins. I want a Jesus ending. Michael stops. He looks up to the sky. On a stack of bibles I swear he did. Do I detect a sigh? He turns around and returns to Brendan. They talk some more. Michael takes off his cap—his love, his treasure, his reason for living—and places it gently, tenderly, on Brendan’s head. He adjusts the cap so it perfectly aligns with Brendan’s eyes and nose. They shake hands. Michael turns and makes his way to the van. He gets in and retreats to the far back and sits next to the window, where he looks out upon the world with a countenance that suggests he is mulling over something important. I do everything not to burst into tears.

I’m asked occasionally where I see God in this beautiful and broken world of ours. I begin by reciting a line from Patrick Kavanagh’s poem “The Great Hunger”: “God is in the bits and pieces of Everyday — / A kiss here and a laugh again, and sometimes tears, / A pearl necklace round the neck of poverty.” Then, if they have time, I’ll tell them a story like this one—about a scar that went from below an Irish boy’s left earlobe to the edge of his chin and about a Chicago boy and his baseball cap that became a healing gift, a sacrament of merciful, mending love.

FR. PATRICK HANNON, CSC, ’82 is an essayist. He teaches writing at University of Portland.

GETTING MY BEARINGS

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. —Luke 1:41

BY KAREN EIFLER

TWO HUNDRED YARDS from my house is one of the most consistently joyful places on this planet: a dog park. We’re regulars there, along with our cowabunga terrier, Pippin. If all that unleashed canine exuberance somehow fails to restore my soul, Bear does it. Bear is an affable St. Bernard, approximately the size of a Buick, who performs a singular ministry at Arbor Lodge Park most early evenings. She plops herself in the middle of the grassy area, lays on her back with her I-beam legs straight up in the air, and stays that way while the assembled little dogs jump and crawl on and over her, leaping through those legs as if she is the shaggy dog equivalent of a kid’s monkey bars. Bear is absolutely still, her soulful eyes closed for the entire time. Big dogs know not to mess with Bear or interfere in any way with the imps rollicking in their Bear-time. Some interior gong goes off after a half hour or so, the signal for Bear to gently roll over, stand up, engage in a goober-filled shake-off, then amble back to her person for the walk home.

Numerous Bears in my life keep me striving for the classroom that can be, the committee that can be, the Church that can be. They are people who appear to move through life as stately cruise ships when I am more like a frantic little dinghy flailing in undisciplined circles out in open water. A single wise word, a perfectly timed cocked eyebrow posing the silent question are you quite sure that is the best action to take at this particular moment?, a hand placed on my arm before I spew a Vesuvius of words—these quiet gestures keep me safe from myself, which in turn keeps me from antagonizing the big dogs out there. Outside the public eye, the Bears of my world provide me with secure play structures to incubate promising projects, heal old wounds, ponder stretches in novel directions.

Lake Sagatagan at St. John’s University in Minnesota is a place where I get my bearings

annually, kindness of my godfriend Eva, who has a few years and oceans of wisdom on me. I save up a year’s worth of slights, inchoate ideas, and thwarted plans and unfurl them to her gentle ears. We always know it’s coming, and it’s always by her invitation that we pack a lunch and take that walk to the little bench by the water, and she always asks, “So tell me how it is with your soul.” And I tell her, with the same unfocused intensity I witness as Pippin clambers over Bear. And Eva listens, and she invites me to clarify, and she sits with my undisciplined thoughts as they stream around her, and she listens some more, and sits a bit longer, and we are quiet for long stretches that don’t feel awkward. And at some point, the gap between what I’ve been doing and what could be more life-giving for me to do narrows, and I have a map for navigating the terrain ahead. And we eat our PBJs and munch our apples and what do you know, one of us snuck in some Oreos, and we savor those while we take in the cardinals that are such a novelty to this Left-Coaster, and the loons, and the Minnesota dragonflies that are so humongous they’re kind of scary, even though they are also quite beautiful. The world seems a lot more manageable.

Mary is rightly revered for her Magnificat declaration: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my spirit exults in God, my savior…” But those words are not, as I often assumed, Mary’s immediate response to the angel Gabriel when he upends her world with the announcement that she is pregnant with the Messiah. Faced with impending consequences that must really seem dire, this unmarried young girl goes to visit her much older cousin Elizabeth to sort things out. I imagine the tearful, silent, and lengthy embrace the two must have greeted one another with, both confronting the end of their worlds as they knew them. It’s only after sitting with Elizabeth, sharing her fears and wondering with her “how on earth will I break the news to Joseph and my parents” and breaking bread together—they are both eating for two now—and after allowing one another breathing and sobbing and laughter and wonder room…only then can Mary give full expression to her acceptance of the miracle occurring within and through her, in the soaring poetry we have come to treasure.

Here’s a toast to our Bears, quiet pillars who allow us to climb all over them, who guide us through their steadfast listening to get our bearings and emerge as our better selves.

KAREN EIFLER directs UP’s Garaventa Center for Catholic Intellectual Life & American Culture. This essay is from the forthcoming collection Near Occasions of Hope: A Woman’s Glimpses of A Church That Can Be, available from ACTA Publications this month.

SCREENPORCH AS PRAYER

BY JESSIE VAN EERDEN

HERE, INTERIOR MEETS exterior, threshold between kitchen scent and a wind murmured with skunk. Screen blocks June bugs and bats though not the slant rain. There is a little time. Metal washtub harbors nasturtium and petunia, and here, the boots to pull on when ready. I tweeze five ticks off the dog, suffocating them first in Vaseline. Yesterday, she snagged a bunny from under the hosta and, the day before, massacred the new robins. Her murderous face spoking bird legs, her hind leg trembling. She sprawls now to my touch. Board fitted and mesh tacked to make space for mercy. And this heat—let the sky make use of it. Out here, I read a letter from my brother who, last year, put that turnbuckle on the screendoor to lift its drag and who has loved his wife for twenty years. He’s building some chairs out of cherry and teaching his son our country’s dark truths. Letters slow life down, he writes. I picture him calling forth the deeper cherry grain with Minwax finish and filling out the shapes outlined for us that seemed so large, capacious, and demanding when we were small enough to fit in closet forts and snug vests with snaps. P.S.—he doesn’t remember that summer I asked him about, when we went to the demolition derby. But I remember his friend Jack’s name called on the loudspeaker and the blue raspberry snowcones in

the stands and our disposition toward homesickness. He is, I think, a good father to his son. A good teacher at the community college. Good husband. May the chairs turn out. He prays for me in his hot kernel heart to know what shape my life. I water dog and nasturtium and hear my mother’s thoughts on the governor over the phone, my sister’s talk of graduate school, my friend’s news of her dad dying. And the radio, bad news all around from Yemen, Detroit, the local high school. On the table, the market Cherokee Purples and Brandywines ripen, two nectarines and a newspaper boat of blue lake beans for my love. Out here, in these two chairs, was our beginning when we said I miss your shape when you’re not near, I his shape of father of two, trim beard shaved neck smell of sandalwood soap but stronger smell of lakewater, filling my hallway, shirt sleeves rolled up and shoulders to knead and to help brace me, and he my shape of something. I know it only to be a shape of something not yet final. Please, God, a little more time before I go. I promise I’ll be ready. After a bit, I won’t really need the screen so intact. See here, this corner is already loose and I’ve left it unrepaired, and a few bats get in. I put my cheek down upon the porch floor, my temple, my heavy hair, and feel the flutter of a wing. Then, come evening, when the storm begins, all that heat finally useful, when some spray blows in and the temperature falls an octave, I promise I will follow you down those porch steps, in my ready shape. I swear I will follow you anywhere.

JESSIE VAN EERDEN is the author of three novels, Glorybound, My Radio Radio, and Call It Horses, and the essay collection The Long Weeping. She teaches English at Hollins University and serves as nonfiction editor for Orison Books.

BY DANIELLE CENTONI PORTRAITS BY AMBER FOUTS

TWO UNIVERSITY OF PORTLAND alums—strangers who never met— recently found their lives intersecting in a way no one would have ever predicted. One is a tax accountant named Danie Baker ’11 who majored in finance and accounting and now has a thriving career at Price Waterhouse-Cooper in Seattle. The other is Brett Bankson ’15, who arrived at UP just as Baker was leaving, majored in psychology and French, and then moved on to research in DC and grad school in Pittsburgh to pursue a PhD. The two clearly orbited completely different worlds—until this summer when they both found themselves in a place only a rarefied few ever get to venture: the set of a reality TV cooking show.

Turns out, Baker and Bankson do have something in common besides a UP degree (well, that and the fact that they both now live in the Seattle area). Their biggest connection? They both really, really love to cook. A lot. And they each followed their passion for cooking right into a coveted spot on Bravo’s Top Chef Amateurs this summer.

The show is similar to the original format of Top Chef, in which professional chefs compete against each other in a series of cooking challenges until by the end of the season only one remains. But on Amateurs, each episode is a one-off, with two home cooks competing against each other for the $5,000 prize and bragging rights.

Although they didn’t appear in the same episode (Baker’s episode aired in July while Bankson’s aired in September), they both say it was one of the most challenging, rewarding, and life-changing experiences they’ve ever had. And both can trace their journey to the competition kitchen all the way back to their days at UP. Sometimes a liberal arts education can prepare you for things you never in a million years expected. We caught up with them to find out how it all began and where they plan to go from here.

DANIE BAKER ’11 QUEEN OF THE SCREEN

Although Danie Baker went all-in on left-brain subjects during her years at UP (she minored in math too), she never let her right brain starve, or her friends for that matter. “Even in college I’d bake birthday cakes from scratch and throw dinner parties at my house,” she says. “Cooking is stress relief for me, and good food is everything to me. My whole family is a bunch of cooks, so it’s just something I’ve always been into.”

Baker says she’s always enjoyed experimenting in the kitchen but only recently decided to get serious about turning her love of cooking into a media platform. She launched a food blog called Hey Danie Bakes and amped up her Instagram account with a steady stream of her professional-level food photography. “It was quarantine when I started the blog. People wanted entertainment. And it has really launched this new part of my cooking life.”

Just two weeks after unveiling her blog, casting for Top Chef Amateurs found her and reached out. After several rounds of interviews and auditions, they flew her to Portland in fall of 2020 to tape her episode in the same giant commercialkitchen-turned-TV-set that had just been used for Top Chef Portland (everyone had to quarantine before filming and stay in the Top Chef bubble for the three-day shoot).

Danie Baker and Top Chef alumna Tiffany Derry on the “Opposites Attract” episode of Top Chef Amateurs, which aired July 2021

DAVID MOIR/BRAVO

Cooking on a soundstage in front of a camera crew is hard enough but add in a one-hour time limit and a judging panel of famous chefs watching, and it was all more than a little intimidating. “I just cook for fun in my kitchen and sometimes bring Instagram along for the ride,” says Baker. “I don’t make gastronomical things with smokes and fogs and mousses and stuff. I make rustic comfort food. It was very overwhelming. I’m thinking, ‘Am I really here? Is this real life? How did I get here?’ When we first walked into the kitchen, I didn’t know we were filming, that’s how nervous and out of my mind I was.”

Luckily the two contestants competing on each episode get paired with a professional chef with extensive Top Chef experience as their mentor. “This was the best part,” says Baker, “to cook with someone who’s so knowledgeable. Tiffany Derry was my paired Top Chef alumna, and she’s amazing, an incredibly talented chef who is so low-key and so supportive. She really helped me focus when I was freaking out about what I was going to make. I was 10 minutes in and I hadn’t started cooking! She’d say, ‘Follow your heart and your gut and your intuition.’”

It worked. Baker not only met the challenge of cooking a dish that showcased both sweet and bitter flavors, her sweet potato coconut soup (inspired by her family’s sweet potato pie) topped with grilled radicchio and arugula chimichurri stole the show. This summer, when she got the chance to watch the episode from the other side of the screen during a viewing party with friends and family, all of that stress and anxiety was a distant memory. “I knew what was going to happen, but the moment they announced that I was the Top Chef Amateurs champion of that episode, it was just the coolest thing to have all of my close friends and family there to experience it with me. I kept thinking, ‘I want to go back to that moment. Let’s do that again.’”

So, instead of being relieved the cameras are off, it seems Baker has developed a taste for the spotlight. She already incorporates short videos into her Instagram feed, but she recently launched a YouTube channel called The Dish! with several professionally shot and edited teasers and a full episode already posted. “While I was filming Top Chef Amateurs, none of this was going through my mind because I was so stressed,” she says. “But a few months after, as I was thinking about it more and more, I was like, that was a fun experience! I can be entertaining; I can make full-fledged episodes. Basically, I felt like you gotta take opportunities and seize them when you have them. Why not keep making content and creating?”

Does that mean she’s leaving her accounting career behind? Not so fast. “I love accounting. I took my very first accounting class at UP in the Pamplin School of Business, and I fell in love. I actually do really love my job. But I love food more,” she says. “Cooking is rooted into my person. It’s who I am and what I’ve grown up around. I can’t imagine not being in the kitchen. If a production company came to me, I’d say ‘Absolutely. Let’s make cooking videos.’”

BRETT BANKSON ’15 STUDENT OF THE KITCHEN

Brett Bankson says he has UP to thank for his current preoccupation with food. It started with French class.

“My professor, Trudie Booth, told me if you declare a French major, you can study abroad with your financial aid.” Sold! Bankson declared a double major in psychology and French, hopped a plane, and underwent a culinary coming of age. “Being in France for six months, I’m still unpacking that,” he says. “Every evening with my host family we’d eat for several hours. We’d have soup, we’d have salad, we’d have a cheese course.”

After he graduated, he moved to Washington, DC, for a research fellowship at the National Institutes of Health. “My passion for research and academia started at UP. I had a great time doing research as an undergrad, and I thought, I’ll just keep on doing this. I love doing it and the people I’m surrounded with.” However, while there, those memories of exquisite meals in France took root in the fertile ground of the city’s thriving culinary landscape and grew into a full-fledged obsession.

“DC is a great food city, and it really imprinted on me,” says Bankson. “That’s when I started cooking in earnest with a capital E. I was like, I can cook as many meals as I want for myself every day! I can cook for my lab, my friends, my friends of friends. I don’t need anyone’s permission. What if I spend all my hours cooking or going to restaurants and markets?”

But cooking remained just a hobby, a creative release, as Bankson continued on the research track, opting to pursue a PhD in visual neuroscience through University of Pittsburgh’s cognitive psychology program. “I had the opportunity to work with these patients in the epilepsy monitoring unit at Pitt. It’s fascinating work. There was no reason to say no.”

However, several years later, he now realizes that’s not the same as a reason to say yes. As the work became more difficult, he started questioning his path. “It started to feel like, ‘Why am I doing this?’” he says. He began devoting more of his time to cooking, opting to cater events, wedding receptions, and academic events rather than do his actual work. “It’s where my mind goes when I’m daydreaming, when I’m procrastinating, when I go to bed, when I get up.” And he’s had no shortage of encouragement. “None of my fellow grad students are going to say, ‘Oh I don’t want that ricotta hazelnut tart from you.’ I’ve had a captive audience for the past few years who affirm my own interest in cooking.”

So, when Bravo put out the casting call for auditions, Bankson didn’t hesitate for a second. Here was a cool food opportunity that would give him yet another excuse to tie on an apron. And when he finally made it to the Top Chef Amateurs kitchen in Portland, he whole-heartedly embraced every minute of it. “Seeing the Top Chef neon sign, it was like, oh wow. This is the thing I’ve been seeing on TV for years,” he says. “Paradoxically, the surreality of it all relieved the stress. It was like, This isn’t real. It’s a kitchen stage that’s enormous and gorgeous and has famous people on it. I don’t care about outcomes. I just don’t want my hands shaking, and I want to produce food I don’t have regrets about.”

Mission accomplished. Bankson was tasked with one of the most notorious of the Top Chef food challenges: the mise en place challenge. He and his competitor must select three ingredients out of a total of 10 options available on a firstcome, first-served basis. They each have one hour to prep those

Brett Bankson and Top Chef alumna Stephanie Cmar on the “No Room for Mis-stakes” episode of Top Chef Amateurs, which aired September 2021

ingredients and create a dish incorporating them. Once an item comes off the table, there’s no going back. With a little help from his pro chef mentor Stephanie Cmar, he knocked it out of the park with celery velouté (soup) with roasted oranges and brown butter walnut gremolata.

Aside from winning, the best part, says Bankson, was getting to spend time with real-deal food professionals at the apex of their careers. “It was a phenomenal experience. Meeting the judges who are Top Chef alums, meeting Gail Simmons. They’re real people who are talented and have a ton of passion. They’re very engaged in their profession.”

If anything, the experience has crystallized his resolve to pivot into a career in food. “It was an unexpected opportunity I’m happy to leverage and ride out into the work of catering and private cheffing, which is where my hopes are now,” he says. “I’m in the process of leaving my grad program to pursue food professionally. I love to cook for people, people are happy to pay me to cook for them. I’m still trying to sort it out, but I’m thinking maybe this is something I can actually do.”

DANIELLE CENTONI works in UP’s marketing and communications department and is a longtime freelance food journalist and cookbook author.

60s

1964

Donald J. Chisholm ’64 was honored by the Idaho State Bar with its Distinguished Lawyers Award in September. His career began in rural Idaho, working with various firms until starting his own firm, Chisholm Law Office, in 1983. Donald’s areas of law include general practice, real estate law, banking, and more.

1969

Joe Schiwek ’69 was recently featured on the front page of the Catholic Sentinel for his work as the Archdiocese’s archivist. In 1975, Joe graduated with a master’s in library science. Shortly after he was asked to serve on the Archdiocesan Historical Committee, being officially hired as their archivist in 2013. Between 1975 and 2013, Joe held various jobs, including librarian and records person for an architectural firm. His work as the Archdiocese’s archivist is extremely careful, thorough, and thoughtful, often involving questions of baptismal records. He is in charge of keeping and caring about her. On May 9, 1971, Filomena came to Portland for my graduation. She and my mother pinned my 2nd Lieutenant bars on me. Filomena returned to Bermuda, and we started writing letters again. In my October 6, 1971, letter I proposed marriage. On October 12, 1971, she telegraphed back, “Yes.” We were married on May 20, 1972, at Saint Patrick’s Catholic Church in Bermuda. Filomena does have family in Bermuda, so we have visited several times over the years.” Congratulations, Thomas and Filomena!

Marla Salmon ’71 received the American Academy of Nursing’s highest honor. She was recognized as a “Living Legend” in the field of nursing. A leader in the field for decades, Marla’s impact on health policies, health education, and the field of nursing is national and global in scope. Marla served as director of the Division of Nursing with the US Department of Health and Human Services and held dean positions at Emory University and University of Washington. She was also a member of the Clinton White House Task Force on Healthcare Reform and chair of the World Health Organization’s Global Advisory Group on Nursing and Midwifery. She continues to teach as a professor of nursing and global health and adjunct professor of public policy and governance at UW. Congratulations, Marla,

for many texts and other documents highly valuable to the Catholic community, especially in Portland. You can find the article by going to the Catholic Sentinel website, catholicsentinel.org. Congratulations, Joe!

70s

1971

We received a lovely note from Thomas J. Rothschild ’71: “My older brother was stationed in Bermuda with the US Army (I am not sure who he had to bribe). He met a woman there, married her, and they lived there for several years. I went to visit him in August 1970 (the summer before my senior year at the University of Portland). On August 12, 1970, I was introduced to the young lady who was the babysitter for my brother’s children. This young lady, Filomena, took time off from her job, and gave me a personal 2-week tour of Bermuda. From September of 1970 to May of 1971 we wrote lots and lots of letters. My close friends at the University probably remember my constant talking on this immense honor that you so richly deserve.

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1979

Mike Anderson ’79, ’82 has an update to share: “After a career in Operations Management and Public Service I am retiring at the end of 2021. I spent 35 years in Food and Electronics manufacturing then in 2009 went to work for the State of Oregon followed by the City of Portland. I developed an expertise in lean manufacturing which I adapted for government. At the state I worked for several agencies such as Fish and Wildlife, Forestry and the Department of Administrative Services. I helped smooth out many processes and reduced millions in costs. One of my highlights was redesigning the Big Game, Fishing and Bird hunting regulation booklets. Ironically my position was the victim of budget cuts, so I went to work for the City of Portland. I have taken ‘Teaching, Faith, and Service’ to heart. I love to volunteer and for over 20 years spent 900–1000 hours a year volunteering for many groups. Boy Scouts, Ski Patrol, the City of Vancouver, the Rose Festival, and Special Olympics are my favorites. I hope in retirement I can do more. Finally, I love to teach First Aid for the scouts and ski patrol, and serve as the Finance Chair for Orchards United Methodist Church in Vancouver.” Congrats, Mike! We are excited to see where retirement takes you.

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UP’s beloved Reunion Weekend tradition is making its long-awaited return, and we want you to be there! It’s time for our Pilot community to reconnect, reminisce, and renew on The Bluff. While we know many of us have had difficult experiences in the past few years and many of us may still feel anxious about the state of things, we also know we are going through this together.

Reunion Weekend 2022 will offer new possibilities for closeness and JOY. up.edu/reunion

ALUMNI REUNION WEEKEND JOIN US! JUNE 24–26, 2022