As we close out the year, our staff shares a few of the conversations, stories, and moments that stood out, helped us think differently, and strengthened our connection to community.
"The Still Point at Sanger Lake" by Maud Macrory Powell
Ben Waterhouse: This spring, I worked with Maud Macrory Powell on a story for the spring issue of our magazine about an awful experience her friend Dot had in 1970. It was an amazing story of violence, danger, and survival that was really about pacifism and forgiveness. The piece was a big hit with readers, despite dealing with really heavy stuff. It was satisfying to work with Maud, but really moving to see how Dot’s story affected people.
So Much Together with Dan Currin
Rozzell Medina: In April, I joined about twenty people in a So Much Together workshop at Portland’s Historic Alberta House. Prolific artist and filmmaker Dan Currin led us in a unique, challenging, and very fun process designed to illustrate how collaboration can take place without extensive planning or overthinking. In just a few hours, we wrote and recorded a song together and then captured footage around the Northeast Portland neighborhood to produce a music video for that song. The result was a somewhat surreal and vibrantly human document of a brief but beautiful moment in time when a group of Oregonians got together to celebrate and explore imaginative and collaborative possibilities in a welcoming environment.
Exchanging Letters through Dear Stranger
Lucy Solares-Steger: We had a group from the Connected Teens program in Grants Pass participate in Dear Stranger, and their letters had me laughing for days. They were honest, vulnerable, and unguarded in their thoughts, and I would randomly remember a quote in the middle of another task and start giggling to myself.
Oregon Humanities Live
Karina Briski: We held a spring reading in Portland featuring recent contributors, and each story felt fully transportive, taking us to a specific place, time, and political or social context. These were all local writers—who do many different things in their communities—sharing true stories about life, family, identity, and culture. It was a reminder that, in our algorithmic age that privileges the loudest voices and reduces people to clickable 'content', it’s special and sort of rare to hear personal stories from those who’ve lived them and written about them with humor, nuance, sincerity, and openness.
Consider This with Eli Saslow
Jennifer Alkezweeny: A couple of comments Eli Saslow shared in our April Consider This program keep coming back to me. The conversation explored some of the challenges facing people in towns and cities right now, and Eli said he thinks we are at a moment in Portland, and maybe the country, where we are "running into the ends of our empathy" and "fear interrupts empathy." Programs like that Consider This help us stretch our empathy and refocus on people, hopefully breaking away from fear.
Julia Martinez Soto: In this conversation, Eli and Adam were talking about a complicated problem that is really at the intersection of multiple crises—homelessness, mental health, addiction—so many issues crammed into one big problem that we're seeing all around Oregon. What I appreciated about the event was that in a room full of people, it was clear that there really are so many that care deeply about this issue and also care about seeing things get better for all of us. Sharing that space with others felt like a really good place to start.
"Rainwater Soup" by Patti Moss
Carolina Rios: The journey I experienced while reading Patti's story was one of reflection, nostalgia, and renewal. The imagery was vivid and deeply personal, blending past memories with the present, which evoked for me a sense of comfort, belonging, and what it feels like to come home.
"A Basket is a Love Song" by Sylvia Friday
Vicky Hart: It's amazing, isn't it, how you read something and realize, "Yes, that's it! I thought I was the only person who'd ever felt that way." To me, that's the value of the humanities. Sitting alone in a quiet house on a Friday morning, and feeling so seen, understood even. I reread Sylvia Friday's essay twice before forwarding it to like six friends. That's what story can do, I guess. When it strikes something within us, we're compelled to go from hearer (or reader, as it were) to teller.
"We Contain Multitudes" by Joon Ae Haworth-Kaufka
Alexandra Silvester: I worked with Joon Ae Haworth-Kaufka, a 2024 Community Storytelling Fellow, on this deeply thoughtful and carefully researched essay about transracial adoption. In the piece, she references the metaphor of mirrors and windows to explain that storytelling is not only a vehicle for self-expression but also a critical tool for survival. I’m in awe of the way Joon Ae was able to represent the voices of adoptees who have historically had their experiences distorted and erased while also generously inviting readers like me to step into a story that is not my own.
Consider This with Father Greg Boyle
Ben Waterhouse: A favorite moment for me this year was our Consider This conversation with Father Greg Boyle in March. It was a really good conversation, made even better by the presence of Enrique Bautista. Enrique is one of our 2024 Community Storytelling Fellows, a formerly incarcerated writer and father who does a lot of work in his community helping young men make good decisions—work that parallels Boyle’s gang intervention work. Enrique and his collaborators met Boyle at the event, and he later appeared on The Detour in another good conversation.
Adam Davis: Father Boyle talked about fear and belonging, and the room felt like it was hanging on every word. He mixed deep wisdom with good humor and incredible experience. It felt like we were all moved to think about how we show up in the world and to be more expansive in how we see and participate in community. It felt like what we ought to be doing. I loved that moment.
Conexión con nuestro territorio / Connection with our Land
Juliana Posada: In October, we held a nature walk for Spanish speakers in Bend’s Shevlin Park. The fall colors were at their peak, and in the aspen groves, we passed through a sea of yellow. The walk was joyful, full of curiosity about the land, and rich with reflections we shared with one another. I can’t help but think how wonderful it would have been to have access to programs like this when I first arrived in this country. And I feel so happy to now be able to create these kinds of experiences for others.