Small crises

Big hurricane. I lived through many hurricanes as a child whose family had a boat off the Chesapeake. Nothing like the evacuations and closures ever happened back then, so I was happy to not be there this time. I hope all my relatives there managed okay. People are so much more vulnerable now, with their flipflops and lives in cars and inability to protect themselves. It's a different time, that's for sure.

Still working hard on the essay. I know I am getting somewhere because every time I get to the end I start to cry. Just like I want my readers to do! Maybe.

It's hard making myself vulnerable, no wonder I try not to. I've often observed that we artisans do this over and over, every time we display our art to the public, every time we come to the Market with our hopes in hand. It doesn't really get easier, but it helps me to focus on how strong I am, not how weak. Nobody cares if I'm struggling, on an operational level. Of course people care, but that doesn't mean they want to engage in solutions for me. They have their own problems, and I'm not engaging in solutions for them.

We seem to get a lot more from others when we offer them the chance to engage in something fun and easy for them. That's one way the Jell-O art really works.

Eugene Celebration was a pretty toy and I'm glad it happens. Not being on the Parade route left us at the Market feeling very left out. It was such a highlight of the season in past years, and I sincerely hope it comes back next year. It's interesting, from the perspective of a neighboring business that operates every week doing much the same thing, to not view it as competition, but as enrichment. I did see lots of new people at Market and did okay, sales-wise, since sunny mornings practically guarantee hat sales for those who forgot how bright that old sun can be. (Works for me on rainy days too, yay.) Sold more bags than usual, maybe because people were going to be walking around all day carrying things. Everything went okay until the way home.

There simply was no legal, safe way for us human-powered vendors to exit the Park Blocks. We either had to go on sidewalks, the wrong way on one-way streets, or blocks and blocks out of our way on unknown routes. Elise and I teamed up and went through two alleys, down to Seventh, and on the sidewalk against oncoming traffic and pedestrians, practically screaming to avoid collision. I hadn't realized that I really can't push that load on foot any substantial distance. I kept ringing my bell and apologizing to those I drove off the sidewalk (nobody was really in any physical danger but me and Elise) and almost mowed down coming from the alley unexpectedly like that.

There are maybe twelve to fifteen of us with wagons, carts, and small wheels. It doesn't surprise me that no one thought of how we would navigate; we didn't really think of it ourselves. I did okay on 10th instead of Broadway on the way down in the morning, but that is now one-way between Olive and Charnelton and wouldn't work for the way west. I was not going on 11th or 6th, no way. I could have walked two blocks over to Pearl and ridden up to 12th, winding my way through that nasty bike path between Oak and Willamette, but that would have probably meant dumping my load on the tight turns and uneven paving, and no one wants to see me on Pearl. The traffic of people looking for parking on the outlying streets would have been difficult at best. It was traumatic.

We did survive, and I only lost one stick off the load that it wasn't worth the effort to recover. I have lots of sticks. Nobody gave us the finger, though Elise had a really hard time in the morning just trying to access the blocks. I had planned to insist that I needed to reach my workplace, but I didn't try to get through any barriers.

And speaking of barriers, one of the best parts of the day was when 8th street was liberated. A couple of people just moved the street closure signs that were not necessary. Our customers need to be able to get to our site, no matter what else is going on downtown. That is basic. People can't carry flats of produce and ceramic pots and whatnot for several blocks to their cars. And the free parking wasn't free, either.

But you have to love the Eugene Celebration, no matter what. It's good to promenade the streets, good to meet and greet, good for everyone to get a chance to show off what they do and like and support. I hope next year things will be a little easier. I will pass my concerns on to the mgmt. of the festival. I know they will do what they can to avoid problems.

And at the very least, it should put the question of street closure out of the realm of possibility for the farmers. It should, but who knows? Maybe they think we can have Eugene Celebration every week. We kind of do already. Thing is, we've worked out the solutions to how to make it work logistically, and so that everyone can also make money, something that doesn't really happen for us on that weekend. We really need the street to be open, to the free parking the city gives us, to the west and to the east and to the south and north. We have to make it easy for people to enjoy us, so we can enjoy them.