23 Thoughts

For some reason, I felt inspired to write today.  Which is strange because yesterday was my deadline and I was writing all morning which is usually followed by a two day break from writing.  But I know that writers are weird.  We have been that way for centuries. 

It is my 23^rd birthday.  I can’t believe I am already 23. It seems just yesterday I was so excited to turn 21.  This birthday is a bit different however, Mom is not here.

My Mom suddenly passed away last November.  A tragedy that left our family shocked and miserable.  Of course, my mother’s death was not the first taste of tragedy.  The previous fall in 2008, my father was diagnosed with a meningioma, a brain tumor the size of an orange that was interfering with his coordination and cognitive skill. This happen only two months after he was laid off from the company he had been working for 13 years, four months after the death of my grandfather and just 18 months after my Mom had been diagnosed with Leukemia.  Talk about hell.

The loss of a parent and the threat of that loss is an unbearable pain.  In the Jewish faith, people mourn the loss of a child or spouse for 30 days, while the mourning period for losing a parent is 11 months.  I found this strange and interesting at the same time.  It seems the Jewish Religion has this understanding that there is something about losing a parent that is profound.  It makes sense: who is present for most of our lives? Usually a parent.  When a parent passes on, we not only lose a large piece of our past and future, we lose one half of ourselves.

Somehow, after my mom died we were quietly able to recover.  With the help of a lot of caring people,  We were slowly able to pick up the pieces.  The pain still lingers and I often tell people that each day, I am simply just trying to hold it together. 

I think the big reason I am ready to be 23 is because I will always remember 22 as the age I lost my Mom, a much too early and fragile age.  An age when I was just beginning to figure out who I was.  After Mom died, that all got put on hold.  Still, I busted my ass to finish school with merit and graduated on time, earning my degree, which my parents worked so hard to afford.

Now, being 23, 10 months after my Mother’s death, I feel myself missing her the most.  Mom always made a big deal of birthdays.  After decorating the house, she would give me a special breakfast, and sweet gifts.  I was dreading not having that part of the routine. I don’t have any sisters who would remember that.

 When I woke up this morning, the house was decorated (my Dad and boyfriend put them up while I was asleep) and taped against the cup of coffee my Dad gets me every morning when he gets his own was a little pinwheel, surly the work of Kyle.  The kitchen memo board was decorated.  Lying across my laptop was a piece of paper with the words “Happy B-DAY KML.” Dad made it when he did his morning report in his office. Scattered around a little card from my Dad was confetti. And suddenly, I felt a wash of gratitude.  Maybe it wasn’t what my Mom always did.  But I had men around me who cared enough to listen to what I wanted.  Usually, all we women simply want is someone to show up, to listen, and to simply show they care, and that’s exactly what they did.

A good start to my birthday even though the identity crisis remains.  Mom always told me that I was going to go out into the world and do great things.  As I am sure every mother says to her child.  After Mom’s passing, I wanted to do those great things even more.  As all my friends know, and as I indicated at the beginning of this text, I know a thing or two about tragedy, suffering and resilience.  This is one of the biggest reasons I went into journalism.  I have empathy.  I can see a hurting soul because I have been there and am still there.  I’m still scared about my future.  I wonder when a door will open up for me and someone will see me for what I could do, rather than how much experience I have on my resume.  When I have these sudden striking fears about what I am going to do with the rest of my life and how I am going to use my education for good, I wish my Mom was here because she would know exactly what to say to put me at ease. 

But sometimes, only sometimes, if I listen well enough, I can hear her voice in my heart as loud and crisp as if she’s sitting right next to me.  “It will all work out, Katelyn.” She says.  “For everything there is a time, it will come.”  And that is the very best present of all.

Walter is Alive, And His Help is Emanating

Great news… Walter is still alive! I have done what instructions directed and changed Walter’s water.  As I carefully pulled Walter out of his house to empty and refill the water, I noticed that his roots were noticeably longer than when I placed him in there two weeks ago.  Could he be growing? Not only have I not killed a plant but I have also allowed it to grow? How could this be?

And the lucky aspect of owning Walter? Well, don’t blow that off just yet.  The day after I got Walter, I got some unexpected news at work.  A new opportunity for me to explore and report with my writing.  Yeah, I thought.  “Could it be Walter?” I asked myself as soon as I spoke with my boss. 

Next thing, the week after I brought Walter home, I decided to tackle my brother’s old room.  I used this room for my art and crafting.  I love to scrapbook and this almost always took place here.  The problem was, I couldn’t even see my projects anymore.  This room had become sort of a catchall for all the leftover junk in the house.  It was embarrassing for anyone to see.  There was crap all over the floor and table.  Not only was it where my late mother kept all her magazines, old newspaper articles, and coupons she meant to use, it was a stash of old or unwanted items that were outdated or simply didn’t work anymore.

I paced myself and sorted through everything.  It was incredibly hard to go through many of my mother’s belongings.  I had two boxes, “to keep” and “charity” and then I had a garbage can.  I will say the garbage filled up the quickest, along with the “to keep” box of course.

The interesting thing was that this room was not only a series of booby trap newspaper avalanches but also a landmine of memories.  I found things I had never seen in my life.  Probably because these objects, just like the memories of our mind get lost in the shuffle of everyday life.

A newspaper article from 1969 about my Father winning the science fair for his traffic controller signal, detailing his meeting with a patent attorney.  A photograph of my grandmother with her mother.  My Great-grandmother looks so northern European (we are Norwegian on her side.)  Fresh off the boat, as they say.  A newspaper article on my Mother when she was just 16 about her work at the wildlife refuge.  And even an old copy of the paper that hit the presses the day after John F. Kennedy was shot.  A collector’s item, I thought.

I quickly separated these items into piles.  Mom’s side and Dad’s side.  Mom and Dad.  Then all of them went into acid free archival boxes to prevent them from further deterioration (archival preservation was a forte I took up after the death of my grandfather made me the inheritor of 100+ year old documents and photos. 

The bottom line? Now, not only do I have a clean “creating” room, I have boxes full of memories than now require some display ideas.  And the interesting thing, I think all of this is thanks to Walter, my $1.99 lucky bamboo plant.

A Childhood Delight Comes Alive

I will be totally honest. I love art. Ever since I was a little girl. My favorite part of school was arts and crafts. I actually went through a phase when I wanted to be an artist. I loved art. I won art shows with my work. I would come home and color, make paper mache, paint, play with clay…anything that let my creativity run wild.

Then something happened to me that happens to many young artists, I grew up. I decided I was too “cool” to draw or paint or craft. My art projects got tucked away into boxes, stored in the attic, my art supplies given away or tossed out.

In high school, my grandfather died. His wife (my mother’s mom) was an artist. Specifically drawing and painting. When my mom and I were cleaning out his house, we came across paintings of hers and old art supplies. I gently picked them up and placed them in the box marked with a giant “to keep” across its side.

When I took the findings home, it was by some tug on my once-believed retired creativity I felt the urge to play. Of course I was disappointed. The pencils broke, the paints were dry and my urge to create died just as fast as it came upon me.

It was not until college that my creative urge struck again. For Christmas, my Mother gave me an easel and artist set. Complete with watercolor, acrylic, and oil paints. Maybe it was because I had time to mature or I had more time to discover myself in college but I was thrilled. I always wanted my very own set of nice supplies.

I set my easel up in front of my window, overlooking the pond and greens. I unwrapped a new canvas and placed it into the tray. Acrylic, I thought. It’s a great beginner paint, that’s what I remember Grandma saying. Leave the watercolor and oils for later. My hand held the brush which slowly made movement on the canvas. It started subtle, then more and more I began to create, watching as the colors all moved together to create a palette of emotions. It felt as if all my pent up creativity was going berserk. I finished in just over two hours. Crazy…and I had a landscape painting to show for it. It was not beautiful of course, you could tell I need practice, I need to do some exercises, I need to take it slow. But I couldn’t wait until I could pull my paints out and create something new again.

I think sometimes we are convinced we have lost something from our past. Whatever it may be. Convinced it was just something from our childhood. Something we will never have again. But maybe, when we are born with something, like me and my creativity, it never really dies. It lays dormant in our hearts and souls. All we really need is the courage to listen into it and soon enough we will feel it drawing us in, like a close family member who has been gone too long. And once again, we will find ourselves safe, in something that has always comforted us, been there for us, and allowed us to truly be ourselves.

Walter: The Lucky Bamboo Plant

My boyfriend, Kyle and I went to Ikea.  A huge megastore that offers furniture and décor at a low price because you have to build everything together.  It was a Sunday when we went.  The store was full of pregnant women, families and soon-to-be college students.  All searching for the latest treasure or solution they could add to their house or apartment or dorm. 

Ikea sells plants.  On the ground floor hundreds of plants sit, patiently waiting to be taken home.  Now, its important to know I don’t do plants.  I kill nearly every plant that has the misfortune of coming into my care.  As much as I follow the directions and care for it, it always passes on to the next level of plant life.  I killed three orchids last year when I last had the urge to embrace my inner horticulturist.  I decided to splurge on a $1.99 piece of lucky bamboo.  A little luck could do me well, right?

Kyle and I were moving up on the escalator toward the vases to find my bamboo a house.  I like to name my plants.  Maybe it’s so I can talk to them or so they can have one last right before I kill them. Kyle spouted off the name Walter and it instantly stuck.

As soon as we got home, we moved Walter into his new digs.  I carefully followed the instructions.  “Take bamboo out of plastic vial.” Check.  “Remove rubber lip from bamboo.” Check.  “Place in a container with 5cm of water.” What? This took a little time considering the vase was not clear.  I had to put water in, Place Walter in, pull him out and then measure his stem to see if it was 5cm.  This tactic was suggested by Kyle…leave it to a scientist to find the perfectly logical way.  After a few water adds, he was sitting comfortably.  I gently placed him in indirect sunlight.  His water must be changed every other week.  I pencil “Walter’s water” into my planner so I remember. 

Now I wait…I look at Walter and wonder how he will bring me luck.  This odd looking little green stem…high maintenance and yet comforting at the same time because I know Walter needs me. He really needs me not to kill him. Hopefully he can survive being cared for by me.

 I will continue to write about Walter’s progress and the luck that is supposed to come my way.  Although, I must say, if this $1.99 plant survives more than a week with me as his caregiver…I would say he’s the one with the incredible luck, not me.

At Paws Chicago, Pet’s Don’t Have Expiration Dates

The lobby of Paws is clean and peaceful. Photo: Katelyn Lorenz

By Katelyn Lorenz and Katrina Kopeck

High ceilings and large windows cast light into the open space. The floors are shiny and the air smells fresh. A bookshelf, sofas and a fireplace keep the atmosphere home-like and friendly. To the untrained eye, this feels more like a hotel lobby than a dog shelter.

The PAWS (Pets Are Worth Saving) Animal Shelter, formally named Pippen Fasseas Adoption Center is located at 1997 N. Clybourn Avenue. Its location in Lincoln Park provides more incentive for people who are looking to adopt a new cat or dog companion. The facility was strategically placed in Lincoln Park for a reason too.

“Research shows that people don’t want to adopt because they don’t want to go where the shelters are,” said Paws volunteer and former pet foster mother, Susan Barrish. “Typically a shelter is run by a city or county government, or a charity like us–they don’t have a lot of money, so they have to go where they can afford the square footage they can retrofit for low-cost, and that’s all industrial areas. ACC [Animal Care and Control] is at 27th and Western…think if you live in Highland Park; you’re not going down to the shelter. So, we took that excuse off the table by building in Lincoln Park…we did it on purpose.”
View Animal Shelters in Chicago in a larger map

The adoption process at PAWS is simple. Guests at the shelter fill out a survey before going through the facility, which includes information about their lifestyle and adoption preferences. Once someone is ready to adopt, they meet with an adoption counselor where they can ask questions and go over any specific instructions and tips on adapting the animal to its new home. They go through the paperwork and usually take the dog home that day.

The shelter has a website that offers pictures and short descriptions of the dogs which helps to increase adoptions. “We were just looking at the dogs online,” said prospective adopters Dina Roubal and Michelle Kieffer, who were walking down the hallway lined with rooms the dogs stay in. Tall, glass enclosures are what contain the animals, never cages. This adds appeal to the shelter as well as cut down on noise.

The cage-free facility prides itself on its no-kill policy. Hanging on the wall of an impeccably clean hallway hangs a poster saying “We believe animals don’t have expiration dates.” In order to call itself a no-kill facility, a shelter must have a 90 percent life rate. “I’m proud to say over the last several years, we’ve run at over a 98 percent life rate,” Barrish said, “We only euthanize when an animal is so sick… prognosis is so poor that it’s more humane to put them down then to keep them alive.”

Many of the animals PAWS takes into care come from Animal Care and Control. On a regular basis, staff from PAWS go to the city animal control to pull dogs and cats that they can care for. Paws track record is reputable. In 2008, the shelter had 3,000 adoptions. “We were crossing our fingers last year because of the economy, we were hoping we would still make 3,000, well we made 3,500, and this year we want to be even higher,” Barrish said.

The Front of Paws Shelter. Photo: Katelyn Lorenz

Animals are given temperament assessments upon their arrival, and are then given hands-on companionship and training. Animals at the shelter remain there for as long as it takes to adopt them out, even if that means a lifetime.

“We are committed to every animal that comes through here,” said staff member Irene Brown, “whether it’s a year from now or ten years from now, if the people are no longer able to take the animal we’ll always take the animal back.”

PAWS often takes animals in who are not termed “adoptable.” One example of this is Red, a pit bull who was admitted to the shelter last year. Red was living with his owner when his home was broken into. Before the two burglars robbed and beat Red’s owner, they shot him in the back, paralyzing him. Now Red is a paraplegic. However, that doesn’t stop him from getting around or having a great demeanor.

Staff members all pitched in to buy Red a “go-cart” so he could get around more easily using his front legs. Red is very popular despite his special needs. He needs medication, someone who can carry him and take him to water therapy, which make it a more challenging to find an owner, but as PAWS proclaims, there’s no limit on Red’s stay. “Red’s with us…and he’ll be with us for as long as it takes,” Barrish said.

Brown echoed Barrish’s statement: “Red came to us from Animal Care and Control…he’s seven years old, he’s not a puppy, he’s got this disability that’s going to make it much more challenging, he’s on several medications, things like that, I mean…a dog like that wouldn’t last very long at Animal Control, they would probably make the decision to euthanize him. Here, he’ll be here until he’s adopted.”

Red, a handicap pit bull with a lot of energy. Photo: Katelyn Lorenz

PAWS is always in need of volunteers. The shelter is operated on a 90 percent volunteer rate. Volunteers must attend an orientation. There is also a level-system for the way the volunteers are organized. For example, in “Dog Town” at the shelter there are level 1 dogs which are easy to handle, level 2 dogs that require more dog experience and level 3 dogs, which are fearful or anxious and require the most special care.

Sarah Mitchell, a volunteer with the PAWS organization for more than three years expressed the importance of facilities like PAWS. When asked why having shelters in the area was important, she responded, “To encourage people to adopt animals because there are plenty out there who need homes and people go and spend thousands of dollars on breeder dogs…that encourages people to keep breeding and they don’t know how to breed, most of the people. They have poor breeding practices…the animals end up with bad genes and they’re raised in bad conditions. Having something like this [Paws shelter] encourages people to adopt…even if they stay here [the dogs] they have the life.”

  In addition to adoptive services, PAWS also offers other support resources for owners who face hardships that may affect their animal’s welfare. One resource is the Crisis Care program which provides temporary care to dogs and cats that have lost their homes due to foreclosure or eviction.

“If a family has to get out and go into temporary housing, 99.9 percent of the time, that temporary housing won’t take pets, so they need someplace for their pets to go,” said Barrish, “Instead of putting them into the position where they have to give up their pets, we’ve created a foster program for them. We’ll take the animal in, PAWS assumes responsibility for any medical costs and a volunteer fosters those animals until they’re ready to go back to their family.”

   Another program PAWS runs is a food bank. In response to the amount of people calling saying they can’t afford to feed their animals anymore. PAWS offers to provide basics supplies so the owner can keep the animal. “We’re keeping hundreds of animals in their homes that way,” Barrish said, “we are currently feeding 600 dogs and cats every month.”

A box sits in the lobby for food and supplies donations to needy pets. Photo: Katelyn Lorenz

PAWS is constantly looking for volunteers and always appreciates donations. It’s the only way it keeps running. Barrish said canned cat food, canned dog food and kitty litter are the three big things that are needed. However, they can always use things that don’t really cost money such as old towels and sheets. For more information on how you can get involved with PAWS or to make a donation, visit the Paws website.

Andrew Huff Shares Online Journalism Insight

Andrew Huff, co-founder and CEO of the online blog, Gapers Block visited with DePaul University journalism students on Wednesday. Huff shared his experiences as a P.R. pro turned journalist, blogging about the community, and being his own boss.

Huff discussed the dream and development for his idea of a blog where residents of Chicago could come up close and personal with their community. The seven year old blog was created in 2001, when Huff was doing small family reporting; that being sending current news in his life to family and friends in a weekly newsletter. It was from this idea that Huff came up with a people’s website for community happenings.