Monday is Sunday For a Bit

First weekend of Holiday Market and all went well. It's a big set-up...takes about 12 hours to get it all in place for me. Then each weekend it's two or three hours in and out on the first and last days, though we get to do the load-in on a load-in day, generally. I guess I need to work harder on simplifying. Since I live so close, I can do it in two loads, but if I could get it down to one, that would save an hour each way. Sundays are pretty tough with that at the end. But I'm still home by around 8:00 and that isn't bad, only a twelve-hour workday. Easier than a Park Blocks Saturday. Not quite exhausting, if I take care of myself.

Emotional exhaustion is a tough reality of HM. People come to gather and bring with them all their anxiety, and we catch up on the previous year. Sometimes that is really hard, both for them and for us. At my age it's health issues mostly, people suffering terribly from conditions that come with aging, accidents, and grief. Many of them don't come, and we feel their absence. I try to be so gentle when they do peek in...try hard to ask the right questions and give the good listening if I can. I miss the Empathy Tent. Seeing it on the blocks lets me know that good listening is a moment away if I need it. Last year they set up at the Farmers. I hope they find space this week. I need a place to send people.

When sales get going faster, I will commit the sins of turning away and giving short shrift to the pains of others. I had to counsel myself on the walk home Saturday night, and fortunately my sweet brother called me and heard me out. I got way too many tales of woe on Saturday. I feel compelled to at least try to help. I get confused about my limits to do that, and had to tell myself to not be so open to receive right now. I need a balanced place to stand so I can give the public the warm experience they want, the direct artist-appreciator relationship they come for, and the right level of intimacy...not too close, not too distant. Caring and appreciative, grateful, but not desperate...I love selling my crafts, but it isn't for the money. It's for the whole life experience. It's what I do, have learned to do, have focused on, and what sustains me in so many ways. My heart and soul are in it.

What I sell is personal...the hats that declare aspects of who we are, or who we want to be, or just what we want to laugh about. It isn't always positive for people. I well remember one man who thought my hats were rude and disrespectful, and said as much. I told him it was okay, that he didn't have to like my work, and it was fine for him to have that opinion, but he still came back two weeks later to apologize. That intimacy has its costs. It can feel invasive for the customer, probably often, if I can't contain my complaining or whatever form my distress takes: tiredness, boredom, anxiety, restlessness, hurry to leave and get back home where things are quiet and under control. I can't be needy, and I can't be cold. I have to serve, and be available, but not oppressive or demanding. I have to do my best. 

There was a big shift for me this week, with the news that the land swap ruling wasn't completed. A new level of uncertainty has entered, a new wrinkle of what the city and county will do. It's anyone's guess. Attention may shift back to City Hall block or even the EWEB building, which narrowly failed to become the next location for City Hall. The Riverfront development is the New Shiny. You can be sure that many people are seeing a big glittery gathering place with a new, improved version of the Farmer's Market over there...that's inevitable. There are plenty of people stuck with the paradigm of what is new is better. I am not one of them!

The important thing to know about Saturday Market is that we have members who are bringing forward a legacy from our founders that is best left intact. The founding tenets, which include Rain or Shine, outdoors, in the center of the city, easily accessible, one day a week, and most importantly, Maker is the Seller,  are easily eroded and not something we want to let go of. You might argue that those things are still possible in or next to some kind of building, some kind of Public Market, but that doesn't work for me.

As a development concept, we saw that already at 5th Street. Many of our crafters were lured over there to help build it and many failed with the demands of being there every day, enduring the slow times, the rent increases, and the additional costs of being indoors. They were jettisoned when the commercial businesses came in who could afford to pay people to sell for them. Think about how long it has been since you saw crafts over there, or artisans selling them. A building would be that same pattern, over the next one or two decades, and then you would find that the longest-running continuous hand-crafted market in the nation would be gone. That development concept would replace us.

We've tried indoors. Holiday Market obviously works. Circle of Hands was one example of how it can work, for awhile, when people join together to staff it, put in the hours for the maintenance work, and pitch in for the costs. It worked for a long time, and I resisted it, but finally joined at the end, which was pretty tough on everyone in the collective. That model is nothing like what we can do with Saturday Market, where we all retain control of our own businesses, have a volunteer force to hire the staff we need, set our own fees, decide what we will do to build and maintain our opportunities. We don't want to pay for air-conditioning or heat year-round. We don't want to try to work through the winter retailing, when we need to be working on refreshing our own lives, setting new art directions, or focusing on other activities important to us. We have it worked out and dialed in. So, change from without is not interesting to us, however well-meaning.

I'm probably going to be repeating myself a lot, as I know I have been, on this issue. The Farmers asked for site improvements, and have for over a decade, and I am not in opposition to them getting their needs met, in the way they choose as an organization to do that. If they want to sell year-round, as they apparently do with their Winter Market, that's fine. If they want to collectively pay for shelter and amenities, more power to them. I do part ways with them at several points, and would advise my organization to do so, but nothing is decided yet so it isn't time to argue about the details. My line is drawn where other entities make decisions for the organization I have participated in building, Saturday Market. We, the members, will make the decisions about our future.

Let's hope those decisions can be made wisely and for the mutual benefit of not only our members but for the larger context of "members" which include the public who gather and the City who hosts us in the Park Blocks. We know we don't own the land. It's like the OCF. We invest in the land, we feel ownership of our little spaces, we steward the land, but when decisions are made, we are included by our participation and our ability to articulate our needs as crafters and independent business owners. We are key stakeholders, and in the best case scenario, our needs are met and any improvements are designed to fit with them, enhance us, and won't break anything. We build our Market carefully. We meet every month, year round, to make decisions in group process and we are good at it. We've dedicated ourselves to building and maintaining consensus and a deep knowledge of our culture and our strengths. Plus, by doing that, we have become experts in event planning and management, and we know well what lies behind our decisions and what will be the effects of them. I can talk for hours on the subject, and I'm not the only one. I've sold on the Park Blocks for 35 years! Before that I sold on the Butterfly. I started in 1975, and it's probably the main reason I live here, bought a home, raised a son, settled down here. It's my lifeline and the way I have prospered. And I am one of many who can say that, powerful small business leaders who have earned respect.

We aren't all risk takers, though there is a level of insecurity for the self-employed in some ways. Changing the basic conditions of our operations will have costs that will land on the most vulnerable of us. Decisions from the top, from developers or well-meaning supporters who don't understand our basic needs will make us lose members, staff, and resources. We can't move to the Riverfront. I would most likely be forced to quit, and that would decimate my sustainable "retirement plan."  We can't move, period. We are where we belong. That should not be in anyone's discussion. Saturday Market didn't bring it up, didn't ask for it, and I believe we have the consensus that we don't want it. If the Farmers want to move, that is their right and we wouldn't fight them. But if the City started up a competing craft market over there, well, that would be a disservice, and we would have to say so. No decisions about us, without us, and honor and respect for what we have built. That's not a lot to ask, and I know our community can see it that way.

I have faith in us, Eugene. We are a smart and savvy town, and we won't sell ourselves out, even for that 2021 eight days of dollars. We can see our big picture. While I would not claim to be a visionary, I know some. Certainly our future won't include being a cultural backwater or any kind of stagnant community. We're not opposed to change or growth in certain sustainable, thoughtful forms. We can build upon what we have and the Market is a great model for being new and different every day, while still being dependably consistent and able to embrace what comes.

I walked around Holiday Market and saw many new members who looked a lot like me when I arrived: young, enthusiastic, immersed in creativity and with the energy to make things happen. We are not stuck in the Seventies. We bring a model of what is meaningful and deep. Just look at the event calendars and see how many craft markets there are now, all around town. Those are full of artisans of all kinds! We are a thriving center of creative people who have the energy and means to make their own jobs, make our community secure and fascinating, and to keep us grounded and able to navigate whatever the future is.

That is what I see that tempers my fears. Things are happening worldwide that are terrifying and demoralizing, and they're trying to encroach on us. They fail to get a handhold here. We are a sensible town. We are going to do things our way. We support each other and we know what matters. I am deeply thankful for us, and for my day off today to think about these things.

 I hope to see everyone on the day after Thanksgiving, or in December if you can make it. Please know I saw you and care for you, even if we didn't get sufficient time to review and re-establish that. I'm open, though I may be trying to hide that a little while I stand ready to serve in the back of my booth. I'm dancing, even if I don't join you in front of the stage. I'm here. I like having you next to me.

Let's have a great season. Now, that pile of dishes and that day off. There are pies to make!

Change of Seasons

I got the leaves raked and the gutters cleaned in our little morning sun break. I also raked the leaves of a few neighbors who hadn’t gotten to theirs. I’m not doing it as an altruistic act, though it feels good, but because I want their leaves for my compost. I’ve gotten leaves from the city in the past, and it’s a great program, but they bring too many and sometimes they’re full of walnuts, which brings me too many squirrels, and I prefer to know where my leaves are coming from. Plus, raking leaves is one of the best chores there is, and even in the drizzle I love it. When it gets really stormy sometimes I go out and clear the street gutters so we don’t get flooding. I’m not bragging, but there are lots of neighborly people and I like to try to be one. Once when I returned from a vacation my neighbors who were feeding my cat had filled my fridge with bread, milk, and fresh food for me and my toddler, so I have been schooled in generosity.

I personally am not naturally a very generous person. Coming from deprivation, it’s been a challenge to believe in abundance and enough caring to go around, so over the decades I’ve taken a lot of lessons in it. It still takes an effort, with the attendant effort in believing I am also worthy to receive, and can be graceful and say thank you without all that damn Catholic guilt. I live in a wonderful neighborhood, so it’s my duty to make it more wonderful every chance I get.

At the Market our neighborships are hidden but key to our survival. Even if you are walled off in your little 8x8 you need other people to watch for the many spontaneous happenings that might affect you. There isn’t a lot of shoplifting because we gang up fast if someone tries it. One person will call Security, everyone will notice the person so they can be described or photographed, and we’ll back each other up as needed. Most potential hazards are dealt with by whomever notices them, even picking up garbage. We work together in weather, in promoting sales, in directing customers to our competition if that’s what they’re looking for. We share information, tips on lifting, stuff we’ve run across that might help someone else. It’s the most non-competitive group I’ve ever been in. We do feel like family or a village. Even though the constellation of booths is changed a little every week, we welcome each other and usually get close. We buy each other’s crafts and food. Mutual support is highly valued, as it takes all of us to make it work.

My booth is up against the fountain and I don’t actually have a fourth corner. Since I mostly use umbrellas and a flexible setup, I don’t need it, and have learned to work with the shape and maximize my space. The curve also provides me a little space behind that I use to store my bike and trailer and tubs so all of my booth space is open for customers. I like to bring people in out of the aisle, so traffic can flow, so we all can be in the shade, and so they don’t feel pushed down the row if the aisles get crowded. This mainly works because my neighbor, Raven, is open to a fluid border between us. Sometimes I sit or stand in what is technically his space, or we sit together in the back. When my relatives came he let them sit down right in the way of everything because they are old and wanted to be close by. He also stores his cart in the back space, though in his corner space he doesn’t have any. We do that with the cooperation of the person on his other side, who doesn’t need the back space.

When it rains, I have to bring a pop-up, as umbrellas are not workable (not that I haven’t tried.) Those booths are heavy, hard to put up, and I don’t like the uniform look when every booth looks the same. Plus if you bring a booth you have to bring weights. Our policy is 25 pounds per leg. For a biker, the added weight of 75 pounds of sand is daunting, so I have to leave some stock home. That works okay as rainy days work better if I pull stuff in a bit and put it closer together so it stays dry.

But Raven, who used to bike, is now walking his cart and he can’t bring weight bags, so we fasten our booths together and share. It’s strong enough if not technically in compliance. Our booths won’t blow over the way we do it. I bring a different grid setup so I can rest the fourth corner on a grid and fasten to it. We also use a little gutter between our booths to channel the rain to the back so we have lots of dry-ish space in the middle. That way we really can come to sell in the rain. So I’ll be there tomorrow.

Both of us are getting older, and he has a year or two on me and more injuries, so he has actually started skipping a time or two. I’ve considered it, but so far the lure of the gathering is enough to get me up and out with rain gear and fortitude. The maybe twenty percent of us members who are reaching our bodily limits for outdoor selling are all looking to have things be easier, little by little, so we can continue. Not having a regular wage has a few drawbacks, like less in savings and not much of a retirement fund. No employer kicks in any benefits for us. Until Obama most of us didn’t have health insurance.

I feel pretty good about my situation, with my mortgage paid off and my craft dialed in so I can probably continue to make it unless something dire happens. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to bike or print. I figure if I keep doing it, that’s my best chance. That’s what all my elders say: keep doing the things you want to do and you’ll maintain that capacity. That’s my plan, as thin as it is.

But I need things to stay easy-ish and not get harder. I can get downtown from my west-side house. I wouldn’t be able to get all the way to the Riverfront, for instance, or to sell someplace uphill from me. I do have a car, but getting things in and out of it, and schlepping them with a handcart, is twice the lifting at least, and much more walking than I do now. I’m typical in that I have compromised upper and lower body parts. Most craftspeople develop repetitive motion problems, and most aging people do as well. Parts wear out. The harder you work the earlier it seems to happen, all depending on your luck and genetics. I’ve had good genes and luck, but it’s a hard day. Don’t get any of us started on our complaints; everyone has something. Nowdays even young people do, as we’ve forgotten how to really keep active and properly aligned in many cases.

But at this end of the 2017 season I’m still hale and hearty and ready for two wettish weeks and lots of warm interactions as we finish out on the blocks. There is that stressful city plan that, as of this moment, still calls for the Park Blocks to close this spring for a year and a half. The City hasn’t said much about that. They’ve indicated that we’ll get another year of building the LQC interventions to change the culture of the Park, and I expect them to formally say that on November 29^th at the City Council worksession when they report on the summer. We’ve told them that we need to stay open, and we think they heard us, but I wouldn’t say our confidence in our site is really in place.

Now that the deck is finally finished, it makes sense to use it, and it never made sense to level the Parks and start over as the PPS plan advises, but the City hasn’t said they won’t do that. Building on the programs of last summer is smart, to see if more people will hear about them and participate. My assessment is that the culture of the Park changed radically when people stopped living in it. There was an ownership going on that made me uncomfortable when I used it.

Of course I feel my own sense of ownership after 34 years in the Park Blocks. I’ve logged a lot of hours in my two days a week for so many years. I don’t actually remember when the farmers started selling on Tuesdays, but I know I’ve done over a decade of co-selling with them. I’ve made friends with the Park Host, Daniel, and we talk about all kinds of issues about the Park. He keeps me informed on little things I’m interested in, which for me range from site issues like the walls and fountain to the groups and activities there, as well as whatever we can figure out about our possible futures. He’s a really good guy and I think he’s been a big part of keeping some safety there. I know one Tuesday when I had a flat on my trailer, I could leave it all there while I went home to get my car, without fearing that I would come back and find it gone.

It’s safe there now. People use the tables and chairs, and sometimes those people look odd or maybe passing through, but I have found everyone to be friendly and there isn’t anything like we had last year, when things were way too wild. The implementations of the LQC process have worked. I’m thankful that the City tried so many things and found some success with many. I wish I could attend the lighting event but I’ll be setting up for Holiday Market. I hope there are a few things this winter that I can participate in.

I really, really hope the Park does not close. I can’t imagine the sensibility of putting all this energy into it and then derailing it by closing it and stopping it all, including the life I have built there. I do want what the community wants, unless it is that. Moving Saturday Market out, to some interim location, and then back in (or not), would derail me and probably kill the magic. I know my neighborhood of cooperation would disappear, and since it wouldn’t be easier, I might too. We know we have anywhere from a quarter to a half of our members who would not follow that plan. I hope the City listens when we say that.

We’ve grown into that park like an orchard, now bearing fruit. We need to know that we can maintain our lives there, and reap the benefits of our decades of investments. We need certainty.

I will be listening intently to the City staff when they report to Council. I’ll be open, but cautious. I saw how the deck played out, so I have no illusions that closing the park would be a brief interval that we would fully recover from. It would not. The Park Blocks have to stay open for us. That’s all I’ll say for now, but I’ll be saying more on the subject. Rain or shine,  we’re the Oldest Continuous Weekly Handcrafted Market in the Nation. That’s legacy brought forward, and worth preserving, like the beautiful downtown Park Blocks.