Value

Venus wore a size fourteen.
Her body was not angular,
but full and warm
as women are
and you could use her as a pillow
if you had to.
That is real beauty.
Skin is skin
whether firm or loose
and Venus knew
she was more than a
tight body and a pretty face.

"I'll never remember as much as I have forgotten." Jason's moment of great insight in the car earlier today

I've been thinking a lot about commitment lately and how bonds between people change over time. Jason and I found each other almost 14 years ago and we were married in 1994 and have a deeply rooted history together. This does not mean that there are not moments when I want to send him on the next Greyhound bus with a one way ticket to someplace far away, but those moments are few and far between. The truth is that I can't imagine a life without him. Even though he is a terrible slob, he is also incredibly giving and kind and he makes me try to be a better person.

That old Beatles song When I'm 64 is our song. I know there are no guarantees in this lifetime, but I am fairly sure that we are destined to grow old together and plant a few more gardens and sing a few more songs. And laugh.

Life is funny. Some people get 90 years. Some people commit suicide at 48, like our friend Joanie McGowan who was a local activist and playwright. Some babies don't even get a few minutes, like Dylan. And it is the one thing that is not ruled by money or income. At least not directly.

I have learned that love is a powerful balm. It saddens me that Joanie did not see how respected and loved she was by so many here. I didn't even know her directly, but I knew of her and our paths almost crossed a few times. I had heard of some of the projects she had worked on and she was one of those people I figured I would eventually befriend. And then about a week ago, after seeking help for depression, her body was found in the Greenway. Suicide. This beautiful woman must have heard that "God closed his eyes and the whole world got mean," but if she could have seen the outpouring of love that followed her death, she would have seen the definition of hope. I'm sad that she did not see it.

But that is the message. We are all loved by someone and that is enough when you think about it.

A few words about Brad and Jen...

So I am standing in line at the supermarket yesterday and notice three separate magazines announcing the tragic split of Brad and Jen. Hand me a kleenex (Kimberly Clarks lawyers will probably sue me now, but all I have in the bank is about $11-- so I feel kind of safe in being brand specific, but that is making me go off on a tangent, BACK to what I started blogging about). Three covers, no more shots of Brad and Jenn in some exotic location, no more gossip about possible babies or diamond rings, nada. It's over and even SNL mentioned it already, although I can't remember what they said since I was almost asleep. You know, I used to watch an entire episode of SNL and now I barely stay awake through the first 15 minutes and don't even get me started on the musical guests... aside from U2, WHO the hell are they? Most weeks I am sitting there raising an eyebrow, feeling OLD. But back to Brad and Jen already. I've heard their names mentioned more in the last few days than the Tsunami and that is saying something because even Paypal is collecting money for the Tsunami victims. Anyway I have one thing to say about this big, sad breakup-- I DON'T CARE! It's not news and I am not sure why I am even writing about it other than I just wanted to announce that I do not care about this split.

On Turning Five
(For Madison)

You are still afraid of ghost cats
and things that hide underneath your bed,
not to mention mean ducks
and older sisters with goblin hands.
So tonight on the evening of your fifth birthday
you tried hard to sleep in your own bed
for most of fifteen minutes
and then a small tug at my right arm
followed by pleading eyes,
a trip upstairs to my room
and hopefully you are now asleep in my bed.

In later years we may fight over other things
but I hope you remember
that small tug
and the warmth of mom's blankets, dear girl.

The Breaking Point

It comes much later than you ever thought it would
long after shock turns off the light
and anger gives a curtain call.

Remember Jaws and everyone thinking they were safe in the water?
That is close to how it happens.
You are jogging along.
Knowing you aren't doing great,
but feeling like you are fooling everyone else.
And then just like that
without any music in the background
or an omen
you are comatose with pain.

And then you know the truth of life.

Well I should probably mention a couple things that have happened since my last blog, you know Thanksgiving and Christmas and then the New Year crept up too. So a quick run through. Thanksgiving we helped distribute 135 food boxes to low income people and then we started collecting toys and we helped 600 kids and 100 families with food boxes at Christmas. Just as January was rolling in, Sierra came down with Strep and Chicken Pox. So, Jason and I have been tag-teaming the kids and work. We are either here or there and we see each other in passing mostly. Can't wait for that to change. We've been insanely busy and I don't see an end in sight. We're both still at Seasonal Workers and it is a volunteer run organization, but since we are full time they are covering our rent/utilities and phone.

I have this bird feeder that I stuck in the backyard and now it is quite a hang out. Word got out that the Houks are "friends to all birds as well as any and every other critter under the sun", so I now have to fill it 2-3 times a day. Today I made a few more homemade feeders with soda bottles and I am looking for an onion bag (or something with small holes that I can put birdseed in and hang from the trees out there.) I love waking up to the birds by the window. OH and we have snow all over the place. That is about all that is new here.

I've been spending a lot of time volunteering at Seasonal Worker's lately. Jason is working there more than full-time and I am in there almost full-time. Some of the work is pretty sad. Every day we see five or six families (at least, many days it is more than that), needing emergency food. Many people come in requesting blankets or warm clothes and we do the best we can to help them find what they need. It feels like a revolving door though, anything we do isn't going to be enough. Until people in the valley are making enough money to survive on, the best we can do is to keep sending them out with bags of food, or blankets and some hope.

I wish they didn't need us. It is going to be a long, cold winter for a lot of people.

For Jean

She wears poverty like broken in jeans
that are frayed at the bottoms
and have holes in the knees
and waits for disability to come through
so she can pay off a 40 thousand dollar hospital bill
while she visits the food banks
and wonders how to rescue her dreams.

You can't think about politics
when every ounce you have is going to simple survival.
It is a mean world
and the winter will be long and cold.

I listen
and tell.

Ashland Utilities Disfavors Working Poor
by Vanessa Houk


Ashland's utility tax is regressive to the poor. If our community wants to do more to help ease some of the problems low income people face in our community, we should consider abolishing this tax for people living below the federal poverty line.

We live in one of the most beautiful places in Oregon. Tourists are drawn to Ashland not only because of the Shakespeare Festival, but because there is an atmosphere of warmth and creativity here. Many have retired here for the same reasons. We lost our beloved Briscoe School as a direct result of the upsurge in retirees and we will soon see Lincoln Elementary close as well. Families are struggling to stay in this community.

Like many other families, we were affected by 9-11 in an economic sense. Jason had a good paying job, but was laid off and since then he has taken short part-time and seasonal work. Whatever he could get, whether it was climbing on a roof with a construction crew or maintenance work, he has done everything he can to stay actively employed. Both of us have. From paid writing gigs to cleaning a local art gallery and library, small bits of money trickle in. We battle to try and stay current on rent and utilities, but I look at it as a learning experience. Poverty 101, if you will. It's taught me a lot about human kindness, but also about greed.

We hear a lot about Ashland's commitment to low income housing, and our collective commitment to families like mine and while I am grateful for that, I have to say that in this dialog we are ignoring a larger problem. Ashland public utilities collects a 25% tax, the Electric User's Tax, which is overly burdensome to low income residents. For middle and upper income people, this tax does not amount to much, but for families like mine, this tax is a hardship. The cities own web site says it needs this money in order to support "city services", although there is no further explanation. I'm sure it is an important part of the cities 2004-2005, 94 million dollar budget (which, by the way can be found online-- all 422 pages of it), but I am at a loss as to why this needs to be at the duress of the elderly and working poor?

One of the promises that is listed in Ashland's "goals", is that "the city will strive to provide resources and services to meet basic human needs," but while we are collecting this tax from people who are living below the federal poverty level, we are failing to keep that promise. Access to electricity is a basic human necessity. Let's keep the lights on for low income residents and keep our commitment to a more affordable Ashland by ending this regressive tax.

Confinement in 2004

When you are held captive
and confined to bankrupt hope
because your dreams have all folded
and you are more alone than ever
your soul is hungry for new chickens to count.

And you feel like nobody has ever felt so bad before
even if history says otherwise.
Some jails exist in the mind.

It is too easy to live in fear
and hope that it goes away.

Written on 10/27/04-- I didn't like this at first, but after the election I think it works for me after all.

A Special Kind of Self Help Group

Feeling betrayed and abandoned by the sky
and the moon
and knowing twelve step groups don't even exist
for your kind of madness
you compulsively check for the lunar eclipse
just in case those numerous clouds
have all gone away
of course they don't
so you log onto the internet
and look at photos
and know that it isn't even as close to good
as it should be.

The New War on Poverty

The young man smiles as cars pause at the light getting off Interstate Five in Medford, Oregon. He holds a cardboard sign that says "Need food, a job, prayer. Thank you." He's there almost every day and if he isn't, someone else is standing in his place. One woman's face is map of hardship, pain and probably loss. Her sign is worded differently, but the essence of it is the same. They are desperate people. These are hard times and every freeway ramp is a compass of what the economy has done to people all over the United States.

A few people pause and open their car window. They hand over a dollar or two and maybe say a few encouraging words. Other people won't even make eye contact. This is too close to poverty and it is uncomfortable to see that people are suffering. It is easier to make sure that the car doors are locked and just get through the light as fast as you can. And besides that dollar isn't going to do anything much. These people can work, they just choose not to. Or, that is what they must tell themselves in order to disregard the people with the signs.

About thirteen years ago, shortly after I first moved to Southern Oregon, I used to drive by another homeless man. He liked to hide out underneath the tunnel, on the north end of town just after the "Welcome to Ashland" sign. He is the only one I remember seeing on a regular basis back then. He is my compass for acknowledging that this problem of poverty, of hopelessness is growing bigger. And I don't think it is limited to my own backyard.

We are seeing people who had good jobs falling into poverty. We are seeing people who once worked their way off welfare, got out of the system and now are finding themselves dropped right back into a life of food stamps and welfare. And it should make us uncomfortable. It should make us angry. A lot of us are not all that far away from those cardboard signs.

November 2004

After the election
we can think we were heard
or not heard
depending on who is elected
in a huge round
of "my mother said that you are the very best one",
or maybe we'll count
and re-count
and they will think we forgot again
because we are supposed to be pretty stupid
after all is said and done.

And maybe we will have a trillion dollar game of tag.
Cartoon tag,
and the flags can be dripping
with the blood of fallen soldiers
who need to go home before dark.

"Mother may I?"
"Yes, you may... Vote!"

As Metaphysical as We Get

We grow tired of watching ghosts run out in the road
caught in our headlights one more time
or visit our apartments late at night
and wonder why can't anything feel original.

Like the native burial grounds at the cabin
that was unmarked but electric
on a cellular level
"Here be dragons",
unexplored, dangerous, unknown.

Elections

I've been waiting for the president to heal us
instead of hiding behind words
we whisper in stores, gas stations, hospitals
and cling to promises
broken like smooth glass we find on the beach
at low tide
and we are all supposed to forget
that we have been failed before.
Collectively unlearn what we were taught as the truth.

Some of us do.

A scattering sees the glossy advertisements
of our own demise
and we point it out
and whisper new words,
like courage
and facts.

Heal us.
We are broken
and without hope.

Waiting for the moon

When your life is ruled by the sight of the moon
and clouds creep in
fueled by rain
and wind and wintery madness
nights can seem long.

But the air is nice and cool
and we have this night
and that is a lot, really.

Haven't written in a long time, mostly because I have been driving all over the place. I really did miss having a car, so it has been fun although it is staring to wear off a little bit. The first week I was ready to go anywhere at a moments notice-- we were doing dumb stuff-- driving around in circles really. Today started my week of getting back to normal. So Mads and I went for a walk in the cold over to the bank to pay rent and to power to give those thieves some cash, by the sandwich shop (where we are on a first name basis with the staff-- I love small towns) and then finally home. On the way home we searched for tree monsters and they were out there! Some are red, some are invisible, some would chase you if they could and they all have big teeth although that does not necessarily mean that they are bad. It's not their fault their teeth got big. I learned all of this from my Mads (she is four by the way). So we had another good day. And then tonight it rained, so I walked to the Minute Market for some ice and my feet got really wet, but it was quiet and I had a nice time. Jason and the kids were watching Hellboy. Not exactly what I would have let them watch, but I was tricked. I had asked what they were watching and was told "PBS", which they later all admitted meant "PRETTY BAD SHOW", after they were caught. Mads went to bed with her flashlight. Between Hellboy and the monsters, I am fairly certain she will be joining us in bed later.

Had such a great day today. An unbelievable day. Started out going to see John Edwards at a rally at the Medford Armory. That was interesting however I do not like what he says about medical malpractice (Tort) reform. It is a bunch of bull. I was actually so worked up that I boo-ed him after his statement on it and I think I was the lone voice of dissent. So be it.

Next we went to the office (Seasonal Workers) and the mail arrived. Jason had some dental work done and he was told it was not covered because they changed our Oregon Health Plan at some point. He paid about $188 out of pocket and had another bill for $400+ which they have been hassling us about daily. We had told them we were requesting a hearing with the state because we thought we should still be covered. The dental office (SISKIYOU DENTAL) has been terribly rude to us, and it was getting to the point where we were going to have to come up with some money for them, just to get some peace. But TODAY we heard from the state that we are covered retroactive since July 1st which means that SISKIYOU DENTAL now owes us $188 dollars back AND they can bill the state for the $400+. I am thoroughly disappointed with the way that dental office has treated Jason (at one point he had an appointment they cancelled and did not bother to call and tell him it was cancelled-- so he took two busses, plus a morning off work just to get there and find out he had no appointment.) NOT a good business! So if you need dental work in the Rogue Valley, you now know who to avoid!

But to continue on with my good day... Sierra came home and announced she was one of four kids chosen for MATH OLYMPIADS at her school! My kid is one smart cookie! I knew that, but it makes me happy that other people see it too. And to think that my genes helped produce someone who excels in math, well it cracks me up!

One of the seasonal workers who knows about cars took a look at the car we want to buy and he agreed it is a good one! I am excited about that.

We should be getting the car tomorrow. Told you it was a good day!

Bereavement

If you live your nightmare
does that mean you get to dream your life?
Weeping mothers might lean away from CLOSURE
but they understand that there is freedom
in surviving the worst thing that can happen.
Not fearing death can be a gift.

Others shy away from aging
but I relish times passing.