I Saw the Sign

It was literally my first day off work. Hell, it was a Saturday! There were a few rare hours of sunny daylight calling my name. Ooie & I decided to go for a car ride. He has recently acquired a state of the art (as far as I can tell) camera and insists on capturing everything with it.

“Wolf, you are so photo-hygienic,” he coos from behind the camera.

I giggle. "Why thank you, dear. How nice of you to notice."  I'll probably let him say it a few more times before I correct him.

That morning we decided to follow the sunshine. It led us to a riverside in Milwaukie, Oregon. 

We like to sit by water together, get to know each other better, ya know? It’s kinda our thing. We were preparing for yet another one of our uber-romantic, disgustingly sweet hand-holding session, when an older man approached us, “You got bags?”

I looked at him puzzled, “Bags? What kind of bags?”

“Trash bags. The water has been high lately and all this trash has washed up on shore. I want to pick up some of it.”

Ooie rose to the occasion. Of course he has trash bags; he is ready for anything at any moment. He hops up to the container atop his station wagon and pulls out an entire roll of trash bags.  I’m not surprised in the least. He even has gloves for me.

I liked the idea of it all, so I decided to join the stranger in his effort.

OK fine, maybe I like trash too. Finding those little bits of inorganic material among the dirt gives me a simple inexplicable pleasure.

Ooie, however was more interested in taking pictures. 

...and while I was distracted finding tiny treasures along the river's edge, he runs into an old friend. 

Metin had come to the water to feed the ducks. He collects bagels from dumpsters and brings them to the park to feed the ducks. Apparently, if you throw them in whole, the injured ducks have a better chance of getting fed as well. 

He had to be one of the kindest gentlest man I have met in a very long time. He writes poetry & prose and gave me a sample to read, "Chirps of an Angel."

It was beautiful. Inspirational. I couldn't help but feel like it was all happening for a reason. He even had a pincher to help pick up the glass. He gave it to me as a parting gift.

Is it just me or does this all seem a bit coincidental considering my upcoming/ongoing project, here? Uh...yeah, no, I didn't think so either...

You Can Take the Girl out of the Food Bank...

I’ve been waking up with the sun. My carefully trained circadian rhythm didn’t seem to get the memo. 

“You’re young & unemployed, body! Sleep ‘til noon! I command you!”

I’ve never really been a morning person. I do my best writing at night—late, late at night and do my best draggin’ act in the morning.  And for nearly four years I’ve been draggin’ this act out of bed to do my best to “eliminate hunger and its root causes.”

Eliminate hunger, you say? Yeah right! That’s not possible.

Well actually, Oregon Food Bank seeks to do just that, and I wouldn’t say that they are that far from reaching that goal. They've created an emergency food distribution network that reaches food insecure Oregonians in every corner of the state.  Last year we helped to distribute more than one million emergency food boxes to our neighbors in need.

It take lots of hands to make that happen—lots of talent… lots energy. In my role as a quote-unquote Volunteer Scheduling & Outreach Coordinator, I was given the opportunity to work with hundreds upon thousands of amazing people who were willing to donate a few hours of their time every week or month to sort, pack & move food for hungry Oregonians.

Quick Work from William Aegerter on Vimeo.

Each person was coming to our do-gooder family for different reasons. I watched as people with disabilities blossom through structured socialization. I helped rehabilitate and reintegrate low level criminals. I coached retirees through their transformation to a life of more “leisure,” and helped transplants find their niche in a new community. Each connection strengthening the whole…

I am fully convinced that volunteers are among the best people on the planet—selflessly using their own energy, time and talent for the benefit of strangers in need— goddamn heartwarming, really.

And frankly, it’s hard not to be inspired by all those amazing people working together for a common goal. I suggest anyone interested in getting involved as a volunteer in Portland Metro to check out Oregon Food Bank’s volunteer community. To get involved in one of the many food repack programs, fill out one of the following applications:

Volunteering by yourself? Or with a group of 5 or less? Fill this out for each person:
INDIVIDUAL APPLICATION

Looking to organize a larger group (5+ volunteers)
GROUP APPLICATION

HELPFUL TIP: Filling out applications and following directions makes it easier for volunteer programs large and small to process and make use of the energy that you are offering.

This chapter of my life, however, is slowly closing. I will no longer need to instruct people how to help feed hungry people. It’s bittersweet. The inspiration that this job has given me will undoubtedly last a lifetime. 

Voluntourista, here I come!

Sweatin' the Small Stuff.

There is almost no furniture left in the purple room. I have a mattress and lamp on the floor and a small coffee table tucked in the corner. The rest of the floor space is dedicated to The Great Sort.

Everything I'm going to keep or need to look through is in the closet on the left, and everything to donate/give away is in the corner on the right. Granted, there are still a few piles if miscellaneous "goods" scattered about the house, and front lawn (my apologies Courtney), but most of those already have a new place to go--if not only in my mind. I'm finding new homes for everything. every. last. thing.

Since just throwing stuff away is not something that I can do, this process has been a long and tedious one.You can call it being a bleeding heart environmentalist or someone with some sort of compulsive disorder, I really don't care. I just need to do it better this time around. In order to demonstrate my neurosis in full color, allow me to show you these, shall we say, "infographics". Here is the stuff to donate and/or give away:

..and this is the stuff that lives to see yet another day under the careful watch of my discerning eye: 

In full disclosure, I also have two bikes, a laundry basket & a back pack that are coming with me as well. There is at least one more round of downsizing before I am reduced to the epitome of material efficiency, so I think I can still take some extra supplies with me to the next house. The final sort is not far off though.  2012: The End is Near!

No no, scratch that. 2012: The Beginning is Nearer!

The Suspense is Killing Me!

The word has spread.

As of January 27th 2012, I will no longer be employed. Working. Well, working for money. I will no longer be working for money. *gasp* "You're quitting? In this economy!? You have got to be kidding?!" Nope. Not kidding you. I feel almost apologetic when I have to say it. I have a great job, doing great things with great people. I have everything one could want, or at least I could have everything if I just settled down and bought it.

"Oh my! What are your plans? Where are you going?" I get asked at least some variation of this everyday.

There isn't really a simple answer. Honestly, I'm not quite sure yet. I am, however, living with intention, and that's pretty time consuming in itself.

About this time next week, I'll be moving out. The last of my stuff will  need to be sorted through and donated. There isn't that much left, but I'm sure there is more than I imagine. I keep plotting homes for all of my remaining possessions. I'll leave one box of keepsakes in Portland, put all my furniture at a friends house, give away my treasures as gifts and donate everything else.

After that, I plan to take up a sublet with my friends in a magical house near the center of the city. Unless of course, I get a bit impulsive and decide to follow my dad, brother & uncle to the Philippines in a couple of weeks. I can see myself doing that too.

But really, I kinda have my heart set on an extremely long-distance cycling adventure--camping and the whole works. There is something very romantic about such slow, deliberate travel. I'd need lots of supplies though. Can people register for things like this? Twenty-six years young and no wedding or babies. I should get to register for something, no?

I can see it now:

"You're invited! Amy is welcoming a new life into this world,

please join her in celebrating this miraculous event!

She is registered at Andy n' Bax, Next Adventure & the Adventure Cycling Association."

Actually, that's not a bad idea....

Wolf & Bear

I've set the date for the departure from my secure & promising middle class job. What exactly am I going to do next? I'm not quite sure.

"I hear Georgia is nice."
"The country?"
"Yes, they have palm trees. For an ex-Soviet Republic its not bad at all."

Quitting my job may just be the single greatest act of independence from societal norms I have done in my short adult life. I am fully prepared (OK, somewhat prepared) to venture into the unknown with only my wits & my backpack. There is, however, an adorable Rusky boy dancing in my future that I just can't seem to get enough of.

With him, the hours pass pleasantly.

"How much lights you think one can make with a lighter? You ever counted?"
I didn't answer his question right away. I paused to write it down.
"I don't know, cute, I've never bothered."

Why would I when the ease of each light is so negligible?

This, however, leaves my fate tied to another--not necessarily a situation I am used to.We'll see how it goes.

He pulls out the World Atlas we got at "The Bins" last summer. Dreams of another place. He pauses on page 19, Indonesia & The Philippines. My grandparents moved there last month. Nueva Ecija, two hours north of Manila on Luzon. Its beautiful, excellent climate.

Next stop? Page 34. Mexico. Overland expedition, perhaps? He's been building and rebuilding a tough as nails vehicle that I like to call Olga-- The Cold War Van. It can sleep three to four, skylight, solar panels. The works.

He pauses again at a full page map of Iowa, my home state. Watching him orient himself to its position in the country is yet another reminder of our differences.

He's the yin to my yang.

He flips through more pages. Each one a small representation of a different state in the Union. He stops. I can tell he sees something familar.

"Oregon is nice." He settles in, page 80. "Fuck yeah! Oregon is nice. You know? its the only state with four climates."