Simply Margaret

Up until about two and a half years ago, I can honestly say that I never felt truly like myself, and I had absolutely no clue why. It seemed like everyone around me had everything figured out already, and somehow I had missed the boat, train or airplane that those people had gotten on to find their calling.

Having grown up as the middle of three kids in my family, I had gotten used to having my rises and falls compared consistently. I was also a slower learner growing up in school, and that frequently set me back amongst my classmates. As a youngster, I didn’t think anything of it, but as I matured, I slowly started to understand what that would mean down the line. I had no idea why I was so different, but it seemed like everyone around me did. Regardless, I kept a determined smile on my face and hope in my heart that someday, somehow, all of that shame that I was so good at hiding would eventually disappear.

September is National Suicide Prevention Month. While I have never tried to commit that very final act of ending it all, there are a handful of deep mental scars from times in my life that I’d rather forget. I won’t go into too much detail there, but I do want to draw on the steps in which I’ve come out of those dark mindsets. These are by no means sure-fire and guaranteed to work for each individual, but I want to do my part in removing the stigma centered on mental health, anxiety and depression and start a discussion on healing, recovery and giving your life everything you possibly can.

Acknowledge it.

As the saying goes, “knowing is half the battle”. I’m not sure of who came up with that, but it’s pretty right on the nose. Nobody can truly look at themselves in a mirror and say that absolutely everything in their life is and has been perfect and that they truly regret nothing. We all have things in our past that hold their own consequences, and in turn, we’ve all had to learn some tough life lessons the hard way. Masking and internalizing that shame that results from those consequences rather than looking at it straight in the eye head-on can only create mountains (rather than bridges). If you find yourself constantly asking “What if?”, you’re going to find yourself wondering the possibilities of life instead of actually living them. This is truly the hardest step, but the battle can be won if you give your life a chance to take it.

Know who’s on your team.

The more significant times in my own life where I’ve tried to escape from or hide my true feelings mostly revolve around grieving losses of relationships. This can be due to the drifting apart of friends, the breakup of an intimate relationship, or the death of a loved one. We have all likely experienced at least one of these losses, but might deal with them in different ways. I’ve found that reaching out to my “team” has always helped me at least in some small way to get through the toughest of obstacles. These people have been there for me in different areas and stages of my life, and while their words might be different, their messages are relatively similar. They want me to be happy, healthy and moving forward in my life. I hold them accountable for their supportive words and wishes, but they in turn hold me responsible to act.

Take baby steps and know your worth.

Nothing worth going for is ever easy, as one must acknowledge all the steps it took to get there. Sometimes those steps toward that dream began years ago, or maybe it starts today. The choice of how and when to start is up to the individual, but regardless of both, we need to put one foot in front of the other to start moving forward. Baby steps can turn to a hustle if we just keep trying our best to not let other things get in the way. My mother’s best advice to me was that “happiness is the best revenge”. Not that I would ever wish bad things on anyone, but she made me realize that if others can’t see the value in what I uniquely bring to the table, it’s up to me to realize it and move on to a better situation.

If any of you are going through some rough times right now, I hope you know that your life is worth reaching out for. We’ll never know how long we have in this life. Keep on, and know you’re loved for exactly who you are.

As the song of summer slowly winds down and the leaves begin to paint themselves and scatter, it gives everyone a chance to reflect on good times with friends and family, vacations, and the hustle and bustle of work. We turn our calendars to the fall season and realize that another year is meeting another end. Right around Labor Day and the start of another school year, many families take one final vacation together to spend time they might have missed due to camps, work, pool parties, weddings or other things. My family was part of that demographic as we backpacked through the Diamond Peak wilderness of Central Oregon last weekend. I hadn’t hiked in a while, much less while carrying all that could fit tightly in a camping pack. It was during this trip that I realized the things that we all must “carry” in life as we move forward.

Your “spark”.

Like I mentioned in my last post, the things that make yourself unique and drive you forward always will remain with you through life. Sigmund Freud founded the study of psychoanalysis, and believed that one’s personality is formed in the first few years of life, and then it will progressively mature as the brain ages. I don’t know if I believe exactly that, but I do think he’d agree that we all carry our own spark and passion for certain things, but we must do all we can to feed the flame in ourselves and in others so that we may grow.

Your dreams.

My first real job was as a summer camp counselor at age 18. I slept in cabins and teepees with my campers most nights, but we’d always have at least one night a week where we’d hike to a destination and sleep under the stars. There’s always a huge meteor shower toward the end of the summer and I can still remember watching all the “shooting stars” and being completely amazed. Our worlds (both physical and personal) are so microscopic in comparison to the universe as a whole, and sometimes it feels like our dreams are impossible to attain. The thing that I’ve learned about that, is that distance of light-years to the nearest or farthest stars will remain the same if we don’t try to reach them in the first place.

Your creativity.

Life can get really rocky and rigid if we don’t look outside the box and take it in from a different angle. Turning the world upside down can be incredibly scary if you’re so used to doing things only one or two ways. However, even if it’s baby steps, creativity can help ease the pressure of stressful situations, get organized, build confidence in our abilities, and keep us reflecting that life is an ever-changing experience.

Your patience.

Sometimes it feels like we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. That feeling comes from responsibilities and relationships for the most part. Our responsibilities might include bills, work, health, while our relationships can center on friendships, family, and partners. That’s a lot to handle all at once, and it can get overwhelming. It’s ok to stop and take a breath every once in a while. The hills and mountains we all climb are different, with peaks and valleys in contrasting places, and we need to take breaks and possibly unload unnecessary baggage. This is not to say that all responsibilities and relationships are unimportant, but holding on to things that should have been let go of a long time ago weighs us down and keeps us from reaching our next phases of life.

Your memories.

All experience, whether we have them once or two hundred times, are once-in-a-lifetime. It’s important to look back on these adventures to remind us of who we were and who was also there to help ensure a positive and supportive path was always ahead. Of course we as individuals have our own experiences to reflect upon, but life is partly shaped around the people who want only the best for us, and who will continue the journey with you no matter what tomorrow brings.

I hope you all carry on through the end of this wonderful season, and move forward with me, wherever life goes next!

I have a 20-month-old border collie named Finnegan. He has a ton of energy and need for attention in the form of food, toys, and cuddles. I’ll be honest, though: I’ve said those two words of the title of this post more times than I can count. Finn’s “boop” face is pretty darn cute, but now he’s learned that all he must do to get attention is rest his head on a lap, look up and wait. You know what? He loves to play, he just loves it more when Jordan and I do it WITH him. You know what else? Sometimes that pup is a lot smarter than we give him credit for.

Remember back when we were kids when rather than picking up our electronics we’d pick up large sticks and pretend to be sword fighting pirates? Or pretending to discover new worlds by climbing to higher branches on the trees outside? Or—and this is my personal favorite as a native Portlander—taking couch cushions, blankets, chairs and pillows to make indoor forts when it rained? You could do anything and be anyone. All it took was a little “pure imagination” as one Willy Wonka would say. Ever wonder why so many kids have multiple dream jobs lined up when asked the question of what they’d like to be when they grow up? It all starts with play.

As children, play is incredibly important. It improves stamina and socialization, relinquishes energy, and promotes curiosity, cognizance and creativity. Play draws out different talents that make us all stand out in uniquely different ways, and hopefully gives us all the confidence to stand tall and be proud of our abilities while praising others for their own gifts. Play develops passions that, with practice, patience and progress, could take us all to reach bigger dreams that we may not have even thought were possible down the road.

As children grow into adults, however, sometimes that childhood confidence and curiosity dwindles. In my experience, the many reasons that can and does happen culminate from mainly two places: outside voices and inside doubt. No matter how much we hate to admit it, others’ opinions of what they think we can and cannot achieve matter and influence us all the time. Whether it be from the media to our closest loved ones, others’ perspectives can and do influence us to go in certain directions. Alternately, our own egos combined with our own fears that we might fail can also be a huge blocker in the pursuit of aspirations.

Do you know what I’ve found is the best way to quiet those voices? PLAY. As cliché as it sounds, dance like no one’s watching. Run as if you’re about to win the gold medal in the next Olympics. Pretend you’re Van Gogh and paint the world’s next masterpiece. Put down your phone, go outside, close your eyes and listen to the world around you and imagine a new one. Sing along to the radio even if you’re slightly off-key. Be silly! Take a look in the mirror for a few minutes just to make funny faces. And if you find yourself doing one of these more than once, practice, develop and change it from a hobby into a passion. You never know where it could take you.

Have a good week everyone! I’m off to go play with the dog.

It’s been over 365 days since I bought my round-trip ticket for a week in New York City, and it was one of the best things that I’ve ever done for myself.

Prior to buying those tickets, the only other time I had ever been to NYC was in the summer of 2003, just after 8th grade. I went with members of my graduating class on a trip to the East coast, where we traveled through New York City, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C. all in one week. Although I brought Kodak cameras with me during that trip and scrapbooked everything when I returned to Portland, I don’t really remember seeing much of the Big Apple aside from Time Square, Broadway, the Empire State Building and Ground Zero when it was still being cleared out.

Thirteen years later when I was contemplating what to do with my PTO from work, New York came to mind over and over, as I hadn’t taken any trips that weren’t centered around family or weddings in a while. My younger sister is a talented graduate of NYU’s Tisch School of Performing Arts, and she has been living and working in the Big City ever since. I knew that I’d eventually make it out to visit her, but I did want to wait until she was done with school so that we could have more time together. I looked over calendars and figured out that the best time to visit was in the beginning of March. It would be a few weeks before my birthday, and a few more to my one-year anniversary at work. The countdown began in August, and with every month, week, and day that passed, I got more and more excited about what I was about to do. I knew this trip was going to be a pivotal stepping stone kind of moment for me, and I was right.

March finally came around, and plans had already started to fold into place for my trip. I had connected with friends who also lived there to make plans, and I had gotten gifts of experiences to be had with Annie while I was there. We were going to see a Broadway show, have dinner and head to the top of the Empire State Building, go to Madame Tussaud’s famous wax museum, and do a food tour through Greenwich Village. I knew that this was going to be a trip where I would use a REAL camera this time (sorry, Kodak), and upload and eventually print my favorite memories. I was heading on a red eye flight direct to JFK, so I took the day beforehand to do laundry, clean my apartment, and pack my suitcase. I could have jumped out of my skin, I was so excited!

This was my first red eye flight ever, and while I tried my best to get some shut-eye, I probably only got about an hour of sleep or two at most. It was worth it. I woke up to the glow in the picture above. This was the sunrise above New York that I had been waiting 7 months for, and it was perfect. To the far left of that view, I remember seeing a kind of purple hazy color, and the image was so symbolic of that time in my life. I was so confused and almost in the dark about what I wanted from my future, but it seemed like the pure almost heavenly glow that I saw was some kind of indicator that I was heading toward a positive change. We landed, and I took a taxi that cold March morning directly to my sister’s apartment in Brooklyn. I gave her the biggest, most excited hug when I got to her doorstep.

Over the next week, every experience seemed to outdo the one before it. Annie had made sure that she could get as much time off from working as she could. We did a lot of things together, and on her working days, I made sure to cross off as many bucket list items as I could. One of my favorite days was when I had quite a few hours to myself, and I decided to venture to the Upper West side of Manhattan. I remembered I had poked around there with my 8th-grade class almost a decade and a half ago, but since we only spent about 2 days in New York tops, everything was pretty rushed. This time around, I went at my own pace and made my own schedule. Rather than immediately go to Time Square with all of the other tourists, I decided to go somewhat off the beaten path to the New York Public Library.

This building is exquisite. According to Wikipedia, the NYPL is the second largest public library in the United States, and fourth largest in the world. The central branch in Manhattan is near Bryant Park, and a few blocks from the Chrysler Building and a short walk from Time Square. I was drawn to it because of the intricate architecture that I had seen online and in movies. But when I came into the building, I quickly realized that everything I had seen from a view of another did it no justice, as no amount of pictures or film strips ever could. As it was opened to the public in 1911, it’s almost like you’re stepping into a time machine. There are intricate designs on the ceilings, large framed works that line each hallway, and miles upon miles of books. I could have spent the rest of my trip there quite easily, but I had to go before long.

As I headed down the stairs and out of the building, I reflected on the unbelievable spectacle of what I had just seen. It was amazing, incredible, and inspiring. I walked down the way to Rockefeller Center, and waited for Annie to finish up at work so that we could meet up to do the next bucket list activity. I took in everything around me with a smile that couldn’t be erased. I was so proud of what I had done in coming on my own, making my own plans, and seeing and doing things that I knew would scare me. I did them anyway because I also knew that doing so would change my perspective, my vision, and my life. As I waited, I looked up at this massive sculpture that stood atop the doorway to the Rockefeller.

Wisdom and Knowledge Shall be the Stability of Thy Times. As you all come into the next weekend, I hope this will inspire you to plan a trip like this for yourself. Go somewhere where you can decide your own itinerary, make your own map, and play by your own rules. Take in some touristy sites, but be sure to go off the beaten path to the road less traveled. Take pictures, frame them, remember…and then return.

 

 

Where is a place you’ve always wanted to go or a place where you’ve been meaning to return to? Tell me about it in the comments below!

There is no one on this earth who has a more beautiful heart and soul than my grandmother. Her own mother named her second daughter after herself, and there is no more suitable a name: Delight.

“Dede”, as she’s known to her grandkids, and I have had and maintained a very closely bonded relationship since I was born. She and my grandfather have always lived no more than a five-minute drive from my parents’ house, which was great for me and my two sisters growing up. My grandmother was quite the socialite back in the day, and I never knew her not to have a permanent smile on her face. She was instrumental in our upbringing by exposing us to things like church and camp, but also to the little things like walking the dog around the neighborhood and saying hello to whomever we passed. Dede loves her family and her friends the most, but she is also kind to strangers. In loving others the way she does, she taught us compassion and empathy, and it has stuck with us our whole lives.

I have never learned more from Dede than in the four years that I worked with her as her companion from 2011-2015. She had been diagnosed with dementia about a year and a half prior and needed some more help with daily activities and appointments. I had just moved back from Ashland to go to school in Portland, and I didn’t have a summer job lined up at the time, so it was the perfect situation. I loved Dede, and since my grandfather wanted to keep her life as normal as possible, he knew I’d be great for the job.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with what happens to a person diagnosed with dementia, here’s my Cliff Notes version. When you’re born, your brain is very elastic, so as you grow and mature, you’re able to absorb and remember information more easily. This information includes the ability to move, eat, and talk normally. With normal aging, that elasticity slowly deteriorates, which causes the brain cells to become strained and eventually die. In someone whose brain is affected by dementia, that process is more rapid, which gets in the way of the signals sent from the brain to the rest of the body. That memory loss that results is unique to the individual, but eventually, mobility is greatly affected, and the motor skills needed to write, eat, dress oneself, and use the bathroom are hindered severely.

Because there is now more information on the effects of dementia than there ever was before, there has been new successful studies and medications to slow the process for the individuals who have received this diagnosis. People are living longer lives than we did when studies on memory loss were first being done, and therefore the number of people given this diagnosis has increased dramatically. Thankfully, there are non-profit organizations like the Alzheimer’s Association who collect resources and put on fundraising events like the Walk to End Alzheimer’s to help spread awareness and also give support to those families whose loved ones are living with this disease. While caring for my grandmother, I definitely did my research to find ways to support her and also take care of myself. Dementia can put severe stress on a caretaker if they don’t find support, so I wanted to make sure that I was as informed and ready for every stage in her progression.

Above anything else, being Dede’s caretaker taught me both patience and organization. Before working with her, I considered myself to be a pretty patient and organized person, especially in the summers prior. From 2007 to 2010, I served as a cabin counselor at Dede’s and my beloved Camp Namanu in Sandy, Oregon for four consecutive summers. In doing that job, I was responsible for 6-8 kids in a cabin that ranged from 2nd to 12th graders for a 6-day work week. Most of the details that needed to be arranged were done at the beginning of the week, and then the rest of the job was making sure that everyone was getting to each activity on time and enjoying themselves. Since I had been a camper there myself, the work came pretty naturally to me. When I made the transition from caring for multiple campers to one grandmother, those skills I had acquired were put to the test and amplified.

At first, all that was needed was to drive her to her various appointments to get her hair done or do things with her social groups, help her with meals in the kitchen, take her to church on Sunday, and generally be her “buddy”. During those days, I would take her out for special adventures to Senior Day at the Oregon Zoo, Christmas at the Pittock Mansion, and picnics at local parks. As her disease started to slowly progress, her needs multiplied, so I had to allow for more time to do the simpler things like eating breakfast and getting dressed, and less time taking her to do activities that would eventually overwhelm her. For example, instead of driving her to her luncheons with her friends, I’d arrange for her friends to come to the house to have lunch with her. My grandmother has always been a social butterfly, and so for the people whom she used to see regularly, it was easy for them to understand her situation and they were fortunately very accommodating. To help myself keep her on schedule while also informing my grandfather of the day’s activities, I created a chart that detailed things like when she woke up, what she had for breakfast and lunch, any appointments she had, when she napped and anything else that I felt he needed to be aware of.

My grandparents were married April 11, 1953. They had met a few years prior at Stanford University after Delight had transferred there from the University of Oregon. From what I gathered, they fell madly in love with each other fairly quickly and were engaged in the spring of 1952. After marrying and moving back to Portland, they had four children (three boys and a girl) who became my grandmother’s whole world. Dede has always made it clear that family comes first, and she was instrumental in her children’s upbringing and later successes. Like other women of the age, she stayed home to raise her children, and cooked almost every dinner for my grandfather, and made sure to cook his especially favorite dishes just like his own mother had when he was growing up. Despite any ups or downs, both my grandparents put their love and respect for each other and the family first. After her diagnosis, my grandfather stepped up to shoulder those responsibilities the best he knew how. I don’t think he’ll ever understand how much we respect him for all he has had to adjust to, and all he has continued to put forward.

While Dede now lives in a place where she is given the proper care that she needs, our family still continues to visit her. Whether it is just to talk, sit with her at dinner, or decorate her room for Christmas, we have come together to care for her and each other. Losing someone to memory loss can be considered a very cruel trick of nature, but I now see it as a blessing. Dede has loved the people in her world so much, and now it is our duty, as it is for everyone who has loved ones diagnosed with dementia, to simply love them, respect those who choose to care for them and hold the memories of the times with them dear.

Aptly named, our Dede is our delight, and I will always consider her to be one of the great loves of my life.

 

Do you (or did you ever) have someone in your life with memory loss? Tell me your favorite memory with them in the comments below!

Ask any Portlandian, native or not, what their favorite cultural aspects of this great city, and chances are high that the beer scene will make its way into the conversation. Beer, especially of the microbrew persuasion, has always played a huge part in Portland and Oregon culture, as we are blessed to have many breweries which have gained national attention headquartered right here. And with weeks like this that have three consecutive days of weather over 100º F, there’s no better time to talk about Portland’s summer beer festivals.

My partner and I just went to the Oregon Brewer’s Festival this past weekend, and while trying to think of my next blog topic to write about, it was simple. Portlanders have had a love affair with their locally brewed masterpieces, and the summer beer festivals that seem to land on every weekend from June through September are the perfect place to showcase those talents. They range in size and venue, but so do the crowds that they draw.

The first beer fest we went to was right at the start of the summer on the first Saturday in June. Pints in the Pearl is a beer fest that celebrated its second successful turnout this year. For the past two years, the Pearl District Business Association has shut down a few blocks in the heart of NW Portland for visitors to flock to taste local brews and bites. You are given a metal cup and a couple beer bottle tops as tokens of payment for each cart. Each bottle cap is worth one full pint of beer, and the stainless steel cup is really great for keeping the beverage at the perfect cool temperature. Since the event drew quite a crowd, the lines did tend to be on the longer side. Luckily, they had a great lineup of live musicians on two different stages, as well as the opportunity for little ones to do chalk drawings or do a bean bag toss. According to the event website, their five participating Pearl District craft brewers — 10 Barrel, BridgePort, Deschutes, Fat Heads, and BackPedal — serve local craft beers, including special brews made exclusively for the festival. I’ve been to Pints both years they’ve held it, and I’ll keep coming back.

The next festival we went to was about a week later. The weather leading up to it was on the rainier side, but that didn’t keep people from flocking to the East side of the Willamette to the 7th Annual Portland Fruit Beer Fest. This festival was definitely the smallest and most unique of the beer festivals I’ve been to this summer, but it still drew quite a populace. It again featured local brewers, but focused on exhibiting those that were made using fruits like berries and limes, but also more tropical fruits like kiwi, mango, and guava. They also included cider in this festival, which was delicious. Since the beers were enhanced with fruit, they tended to be more on the sweeter than hoppier side. I also liked that it was over a whole weekend, so I wouldn’t feel like I was missing out if I went later.

Last but not least, the 30th Annual Oregon Brewers Festival could suitably be called the “Mac Daddy” of the beer festivals in Portland. According to the event website, the Oregon Brewers Festival got its start in July 1988 as the brainchild of Art Larrance, founder of Portland Brewing Co. Larrance had been to Oktoberfest in Munich and wanted to create a similar atmosphere while exposing locals to the variety of good microbrews. Since its start 30 years ago, it has attracted thousands to Portland’s Tom McCall Waterfront Park to taste numerous microbrews on tap. With the opportunity to sample dozens of craft beer styles, with 80 craft beers in the main festival, and another 90 rotating small batch beers in the Specialty Tent, one shouldn’t be surprised at birds of a feather definitely flock to this 5-day fest. The event also offers live music, beer-related vendors, beer memorabilia displays, home brewing demonstrations and an assortment of food vendors.

As we started to get closer to the gigantic coolers from the lines that seemed to go for miles, every once in a while, someone would raise their glass and give a rousing “WHOO!”, which would in turn influence others to do the same. This festival is a reminder of the peak of the season, and that it would slowly come an end. While that might be true, we are grateful to our city for once again bringing us together on hot days. We celebrate our entrepreneurial energy, our creative spirit, and our drive to keep Portland on the map in the world of microbrewing.

Cheers!

 

What’s your favorite kind of beer? Let me know in the comments below!

 

One thing that both my mother and grandmother have instilled in my sisters and me our entire lives is that it is always so important to put giving before receiving. Whether it was volunteering through school, church, or an organization, we needed to give back to the community that has already given so much to us. I know their hope is that that advice will not only be passed to others in my own generation, but to the ones after me as well.

I am proud to know that I am on my way to fulfilling that dream.

Currently, I am in my fourth year of service within the Junior League of Portland. The JLP, as it’s known, is the fourth oldest chapter of the Association of Junior Leagues International, or AJLI, and the first to be formed on the West coast. The first chapter of the Junior League was established on March 15, 1901 by Mary Harriman, who, according to the AJLI website, was a New York debutante ahead of her time.

At the young age of 19, Mary had more than social teas and dances on her mind. The daughter of Union Pacific Railroad titan and financier E. H. Harriman, she used her life of privilege as a platform for social reform. She wanted to give back and make change, especially for the women and children in her community who were not as fortunate as she was. This influenced other women of higher society to consider the needs of their own communities at the turn of the twentieth century. One of those women was Gretchen Corbett, who founded the Junior League of Portland in 1910. From then on, the AJLI has grown to serve chapters across the US, Canada, Mexico, and the United Kingdom. Over 150,000 women serve in 291 chapters around the globe, and those numbers continue to grow each year.

My grandmother, Delight Stacy Kolar Leonard, became a member of the Portland chapter fairly soon after having married my grandfather and moving from an Army base in California back to her hometown in the mid 1950s. Prior to joining, she had been a Camp Fire Girl as well as a member of a sorority at Stanford University. Since friends from Camp Fire and her college days were also joining the League in different chapters, it seemed like a natural choice in progression. As the rules of the JLP stipulated at the time, she would graduate from Active to Sustaining membership after she turned 40, so in her last year of Active Status, she seized the golden opportunity to become President of the Junior League of Portland in the 1970-1971 League year.

My mother, Kirsten Harrington Leonard, joined the League in Portland herself in 1984. She had also graduated from Stanford and just married my dad a year prior, and having not gone on the sorority route herself, she still wanted to find an outlet for social service alongside other likeminded women. She had to be recommended for membership through friends of her mother-in-law, whom she barely knew at the time, but I know she’ll be eternally grateful for their efforts. Many of the women who have come into her life (and eventually mine) she met through joining and pursuing opportunities within the League, and they have all gone on to do great things. I’m positive that all of them look back every once in a while to think on their experiences within this great group and how it trained them to be successful, organized, dedicated leaders of their community.

I have many fond memories of growing up within the League. Modeling clothes with my mom and sisters and running around in circles on conference tables in empty rooms sit high on that list. I must say, though, my favorite was singing the Rolling Stones’ 1969 hit “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” dressed in matching plaid jumpers and silver paper crowns with my sisters on my mom’s Presidential inauguration. There were probably around 500 people there on that day in April 1996. Of course, neither of the three of us knew exactly what the League was about back then, as we were all under the age of 10, but my mother knew in her bones that showing her young daughters that playing an active role in such an organization was something to strive for, as it would dually help ourselves while helping others.

I gained a new perspective when I first opted to join the JLP in the spring of 2014. I could tell that, albeit surprised, my mother was thrilled that I’d be the first to carry this torch in our family’s legacy. Since I am the middle of three daughters within a five-year age span, being the first to do anything of my siblings has always given me a great sense of pride and confidence, so I look back on that phone call to my mom with a smile.

In my first (a.k.a Provisional) year, my “class” and I got a comprehensive first look at what the League does, where we’ve been, and where we’re intending to go. I learned how the JLP works to combat issues like sex trafficking, domestic violence, childhood malnourishment, and literacy. From June 1 through May 31st of each next coming year, volunteers in the Junior League of Portland put in countless hours to train, to educate others, to provide direct service, and to make each year even better than the last. But with all of that comes a sincere sense of sisterhood.

Through my Active years, I have pushed myself in ways that I never expected alongside women who I would not meet otherwise. There have always been helpful hands to guide my journey and to give me the confidence I needed to be successful. Although I did not initially join just to make friends and socialize, similar to my mom, I know a lot of these women will be a part of my life and my own eventual family’s life for years to come.

This year, I have stepped into the role of Assistant Chair for the Rose Summit, a brand-new event for the JLP that will happen this coming spring. The Summit will seek to inspire other women from the Metro area, and celebrate the paths that have already begun to gain momentum. Also, twenty years and twenty-four boards after she stepped down from her first position as a President of the Junior League of Portland, my mom is back serving as Sustainer Rep Advisor to the JLP Board. As I embark on my first leadership role within a non-profit, there is no better person to stand beside. I’m so proud of both of us, and I look forward to working with her in the organization and the sisterhood that we both love.

What inspires you to do things for your own community? Tell me about it in the comments below!

One of my favorite quotes is by Nicholas D. Kristof, a long-time writer for the New York Times.

“In the end, an explorer makes history but does not necessarily change it, for his impact depends less on the trail he blazes than on the willingness of others to follow.”

I kept this quote in mind when I visited Multnomah Falls in the Columbia Gorge a few weeks ago. As a native Portlandian, I have frequented the Gorge numerous times, as it is just about an hour’s drive from the city. I have always been amazed at the lush beauty it offers its visitors, and the bounding strides made by its residents to keep it just so.

On this particular occasion, I went to the falls to accompany my partner, a Dallas native, to check it off of his Oregon bucket list. I had done the hike to the top of the falls before, but I don’t ever remember doing it on such a scorcher of a day. The whole weekend had been forecasted to be in the mid-90s to low-100s, so I suggested that we head to the Gorge for respite from the heat. We decided to take off on the earlier side of the midmorning, so as to beat the temperatures and the traffic. A very good choice.

Standing at the base of the falls, I kept thinking about Kristof’s quote as we noticed people coming from virtually everywhere: the bridge, the restaurant, the parking lots, and the hike back down from the top. An explorer makes history but does not necessarily change it. People who come to brave the hike upward to the top of the upper falls do indeed make their own history, no matter how frequently they return. But, if they find that the risk is worth it, others will eventually follow.

The trail to the top is roughly a mile long and mostly uphill, with 11 “switchbacks” in total. When one blazes the trail, there are numerous people ahead of and behind you, as well as people who are returning from completing the hike. Never have I felt or seen such support of one another, especially in the conditions we were all facing. Sweaty, panting, and stopping for the occasional water break, I heard so many encouraging words spoken to me and my fellow hikers of “You can do it!” and “You’re almost there!”, and best of all, “That view is so worth it!” I never wanted to give up on getting there, but I was grateful for the support of perfect strangers.

Multnomah Falls, according to USDA, is the most visited natural recreation site in the Pacific Northwest. It draws more than 2 million people annually to either bask in the spray of the base and take a selfie, or brave the hike up to the top of the upper falls with a drop of 600 feet. The scenic bridge that divides the upper and lower falls was named for Simon Benson, a Gorge contributor who in 1914 financed Italian stonemasons to design and construct it. The Mark O. Hatfield Memorial Trail starts at the falls and continues through the Oregon side of the Columbia River Gorge.

As we neared the top, there was finally a downhill trail that led right to the platform at the edge of the drop. Our fellow explorers were basking near the water, either on rocks or fallen logs, and giving smiles and nods to those who had also made the trek up successfully.

There was a feeling of both exhilaration and exhaustion in coming to this little haven, but there was also tranquility and a calmness about the whole experience. Despite the obstacles and the risks involved, we did it–all of us. As we came to the platform overlooking the drop and the bird’s-eye view of the Gorge below, I couldn’t help but think of a lyric from a Lady Gaga song. “I’m on the edge of glory, and I’m hanging on a moment of truth”. As I snapped the photo below, I could all but catch my breath in the majesty of the water, the microscopic-like view of the explorers who were about to follow after us, and the overall experience we had in the hike up.

As you head into this next weekend (or your next adventure, for that matter), I encourage you to challenge yourself somehow. Take some risks, and try something out of the ordinary. It might be scary, but chances are always high that you’ll have the encouraging support of others to take on the obstacles that lie ahead.

The journey is worth the risk, so explore! You’ll never know who might follow in your footsteps.

 

What is an adventure that you’ve always wanted to try, but haven’t tried yet? Tell me about it in the comments below!