Wheels for Wiggins
My friend Abby is wonderful and thoughtful, driven, discerning, critical, and astoundingly intelligent. When she was in High School her older brother fell off the roof of their house, and is now paralyzed. He was the star of the track team, class clown. And now, he's graduated from Gonzaga, bitter and cynical, soaking up as much sympathy as he can obtain. I remember first meeting him. We made small talk in the living room and he asked my major, which at the time, was Occupational Therapy.

"Oh," he said, unintentionally making a face of disapproval as the words fell from my lips.

He paused for a minute, gripping his hands on the wheels of his chair. "Can I give you a word of advice?"

I nodded, apprehensively.

"When you graduate and get a job, treat your patients like they're people. Not just another number, or another appointment."

"I will," I said quietly.

***

Abby gave a sermon for Week of Prayer about doubts, rationalism, and being angry at God. Life is unfair, unjust. Why do these things happen to such undeserving people?

***

One of our brightest math professors, Ken Wiggins, received some sort of injection in which he had an allergic reaction to, leaving him paralyzed. One day, as he was in Tri-Cities at Abby's house, he saw a hand crank bike that belonged to her brother. Wiggins expressed casual interest in the bike, so Abby, president of the Math Club, created a fundraiser event called Wheels for Wiggin, which was a run/walk, raising money to buy him his own bike.

***

I made the poster at the top weeks ago, without knowing the story.
The event had a wonderful turnout.
He wrote this letter to the collegian, and I cried.

It is no secret that WWU students are exceptional in many ways, including the way in which they care for others. It was at first astonishing to me that the Mathematics Club chose me as a project and set about raising money for a handcycle. It was also at first astonishing that anyone would respond to this project in a positive way. But then, as I thought more about this community, I realized that this isn’t at all surprising. Helping others is at the heart of what we are about. Still, I am almost overwhelmed when I think of what was done for me.
If you are curious about these bikes, go to http://bike-on.com/dir/955/files/TopEndForceBrochure08.pdf. The Force G with the upright seat is my choice.
I ordered the bike today, and it should arrive in about 5 weeks. It will be painted dark green, and the Mathematics Club members will be invited to sign the green frame with an orange pen. I don’t want to forget, even for an instant, who provided this bike for me. The bike will become an important part of my fitness program, just as my bicycle was 3 years ago. I wish to thank the club President, Abby Higgins, the club members, and all the others who supported this project!

Ken Wiggins
P.S. Let me know when you want to go for a bike ride!

Portland
I'm in Portland for the weekend. Ptown is nice. My trunk is finally loaded with my things, boxes of books and scarves and shoes that I left in storage in Vancouver at Andrea's after my accident, so I can finally be warm and clothed and entertained during the double Walla winter.

Phil and I are staying with Tyson. We went to Francis cafe for breakfast because Portland Monthly mag said they had the best biscuits & gravy in the city, and I got chorizo hash with eggs and mozzarella and avocado. Tyson got the biscuits. They were amazing. We went to Powell's, and I cried reading Post Secret, and we ran into Thomas Freeman and played Rummy at Stumptown and walked sleepily around the Saturday market.

After waiting in an enormous line that wrapped around the theater and down into the parking lot, we finally neared the ticket counter, where they announced that the movie we planned to see (The Informant) had sold out. We got thai food and rented Brother's Bloom, and if we are up to spending even more money in the morning, we plan on eating Dim Sum before the drive back to WWU.

The city is magical, full of bums and hipsters, bikers, and hippies. And I wish I lived here instead of in a tiny town where all the restaurants are closed monday evenings and there is nothing to do. Next year, PAI, children's art museum manager, 8 bedroom apartment, here I come! The future is for discovering.

patience . . .
It's raining in College Place, and my feet are wet, because I have holes in the bottoms of my flats. Some things never change.

I am more assertive than I would like to let on, and keep trying to fix everything. I have yet to come up with a rational excuse as to why patience is the least important of virtues, and why I shouldn't just let things be. But slowly, I'm becoming distracted or exhausted enough.

I have somewhat of a psuedo-date later this week. Or so Emily tells me that that's what it is, while I prefer to think I'm just going to spend a bit of quality time with a new friend. Exchanging of numbers felt sort of awkward, as he stood slumped over my back cubicle in the library. But he was sincere and polite and sweet. The next day I saw him in Kretchmar. I was wearing spandex pants and my unwashed hair was starting to dread, but he looked at me with warm eyes and told me I looked nice. I didn't. I don't feel any big spark, but he's sincerely nicer than almost anyone I've ever met, and maybe these things just take time.

dream one
I have such a sweet tooth.

I love to travel and eat desert, and daydream about opening up an international desert cafe with black asian teas, ethiopian espresso, paleta de mango (with chili), soursop, and european pastries.

I'd doodle in my journal the way I'd design the menu board, and hire Phil Gray as my baker (because he only works part time in the lab)! :)

I'd name it: Sreywin's, pronounced: Seiy-vin's, after my sweet, bright girl in Cambodia.

dream two
I'd start my own version of Egger's Might Magazine, or 826 Valencia. That's bad A, right Alane? This makes my heart dance.

dream three
Chelsea Patten, from what I've heard, has the most amazing job in Tanzania next quarter titled: Story Teller. Correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I understand, she travels Africa and takes photos, builds relationships, and writes stories for the rest of us to be inspired or angered enough to help. Sounds to me like a worthwhile challenge, and the perfect job for a Mass Comm major interested in journalism and humanitarian work.

dream four
Sometimes I find myself filled with jittery misgivings, feeling as though going out and seeing things would answer or settle these questions of discontent. The contrary has only proved to be the case, yet the mystery of searching is only growing, stretching, amplifying. The less my life seems to fall into the path I always assumed (out of naivety), the more I itch to fill my far-off dreams of wanderlust, in which my family always shrugged off as just a phase. I might just WWOOF in South America, live with Ann again in Phnom Penh, and be that crazy Aunt Trina, who lives in Myanmar with the monkeys, and brings you durian and a fake rolex for Christmas.

take pictures, make plans

I like to make plans.

Nothing too concrete, or unchangeable. But something a bit exciting, and feasible enough, with a quick explanation attached as to why and how.

This weekend is girl's weekend at the Wilkens' in Spokane. And while we sat drinking Chai (from the Chocolate Apothecary) down in the basement, we talked about all ending up in Portland next year. We immediately went online to pretend as though it were completely feasible and logical for all us. Alex Heaton found us an 8 bedroom apartment in a 10-story complex in downtown Portland, and Emily perused craigslist for job opps, finding me one as a children's art museum manager. We found a few affordable places to live within walking distance to the Portland Art Institute, and the girls' gasped, "It's a sign!", in which minutes after I found myself creating an account to apply online.

Last night we went to a $1 concert at some small venue called A&M (art, music, and more) filled with high school kids and their families sitting in the audience. Jordy and I talked til' 1 a.m. in the hot tub, going to bed with pruny skin. And I woke up with a sore back, falling all night inbetween the cracks of the mattresses laid out on the basement floor.

"How we spend our days is how we spend our lives. {annie dillard}