Nice Is Strong
Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in The Oregon Way. You can connect with The Oregon Way on Twitter. The article is republished here with permission.
Silver Creek, flowing through Silverton, Oregon. Image credit: Flickr user Edmund Garman
Like most nonprofit leaders, I sit in a lot of meetings every week with local, regional, and state stakeholders, where we discuss policies, procedures, and protocols designed to improve communities across the State of Oregon. So often the solutions we identify are stymied by bureaucracy and politics. In the maelstrom of the modern-day world—including a perfect storm of misinformation, social unrest, pandemic, and climate catastrophe—I find myself yearning for simpler times and simpler solutions.
“Sunny Days”
I was born in 1969, the same year as Kermit the Frog. As a child, I faithfully tuned in to watch my pals on Sesame Street. Another favorite was Mister Rogers, who served as a great stand-in for my own daddy, who was far away in Vietnam. Every morning I would get up and snuggle on the floor with my stuffed animals and a bowl of cereal and feel completely reassured by the friendly neighbors on TV, even as my own family fretted about our dad, and the antiwar movement pitted my older siblings against our parents. All hell was breaking loose across the country, but in my little neck of the woods on PBS, everyone was patient, kind, and friendly.
I’ve spent my whole life looking for Sesame Street, and I think I’ve finally found it.
“Can You Tell Me How to Get…”
Silverton, Oregon is a town of some 10,000 souls. The lovely Silver Creek meanders languidly down the center of town. A series of murals depicting everything from veterans to astronauts to a mythical wonder dog and a lesser-known semi-pro baseball team decorate the sides of buildings. A weekly farmers’ market delivers locally-raised produce and meat throughout the year. Nearly every corner offers a welcoming vista and a place to grab a great cup of coffee while you enjoy the view.
Everyone familiar with Sesame Street knows how to get there: you have to walk down the street, and talk to the people that you meet. It’s a habit that must take place each day. It’s a habit I have practiced wherever I’ve lived. And, wherever I’ve lived all over this beautiful country, I have made dear friends in all of them thanks to simply walking and talking.
But, I have never lived in a town where I have met so many neighbors. Within mere weeks of moving to Silverton, I couldn’t walk from my house to the town square (less than a mile away) without having to stop 5 to 7 times to chat with folks. Whether at the coffee shop, the post office, the pharmacy, or the school pick-up line, I always ran into someone I knew and have grown to know deeply. People talk about “Portland Nice,” but I can’t imagine that the Rose City has anything on Oregon’s small towns like Silverton.
“Come and Play!”
In a photo taken September 8, a wall of smoke — and the wildfires causing it — moved closer to Silverton. Image credit: John Pattison
One thing that really struck me when we moved to Oregon was the proliferation of community celebrations in every small town. Here in Silverton, we have several:
The Pet Parade in May, Strawberry Festival in June, Homer Davenport Days (which includes a full-scale “davenport race” with souped-up foot-powered sofas zipping down Main Street) and The Silverton Art Festival in August, The Silverton Sidewalk Shindig in October, and multiple holiday-related festivals throughout the winter, culminating in our town tree lighting celebration and Sheltering Silverton’s Children’s Lantern Parade.
These events, along with our abundant parks, cafes, brew pubs, restaurants, churches, and community associations offer multiple opportunities to experience what author Eric Klinenbenberg calls “collective effervescence”: experiences that allow a community to experience joy together. If 9/11 represented a collective grief event, I believe it is these small and seemingly unimportant communal gatherings of joy that form the fabric of care and connection that allow us to band together when tragedy strikes.
And tragedy did strike this month, as our region was hit by deadly wildfires. To make it through we will have to lean on one another, we have to lean on our communities.
“Everything’s A-OK”
One of my favorite thinkers and writers, John McKnight, cofounder of the Asset-Based Community Development Institute, writes about community and what makes certain communities thrive while others struggle and fail. He puts forth a theory that says that all people in a community have gifts to contribute, and that when we recognize and augment those gifts the entire community benefits. By focusing on a community’s assets rather than focusing on its deficits, we can improve life for everyone. Never have I seen that theory proven so right than in recent weeks.
Chuck Hawley, founder of the Sticky the Kitty Foundation. Image source: Hawley’s personal Facebook page.
Unprecedented winds and dry weather conditions sparked wildfires that continue to burn all along the West Coast. Those fires came dangerously close to Silverton, forcing the evacuation of my family and many others. Ultimately, our town was spared. Other towns, every bit as sweet and beloved as mine, were not so lucky. These fires will forever be a collective grief event seared into the memory of every Oregonian who had to flee them.
But in the midst of our collective terror and grief, in all of these sweet small towns, something amazing happened. From every farm in the hills, every house in town, every apartment, every trailer and tent, people came together. A few examples make these impressive displays of unity and togetherness clear:
Here in Silverton and our neighboring towns of Mt. Angel and Scotts Mills, volunteer fire crews made up of “heavy equipment operators, loggers, farmers and neighbors who refused to let their town burn” cropped up all over.
A fire refugee resource hub was set up overnight in a warehouse donated free of charge by a local HVAC company. Within three hours they had received so many donations that they had a traffic jam and had to secure a second warehouse for overflow.
One fledgling local business made gallons and gallons of soup and then gave it away for free.
On the local social media sites, neighbors offered their unique gifts: pressure washing, housecleaning, help hauling trash or debris, power tools, childcare, clothing, and meals.
My next-door neighbor hosted a small herd of goats in her backyard. Another neighbor drove around distributing masks to folks who might need them.
Other folks hitched up their trailers and mini-vans and drove toward the flames to rescue their neighbors’ pets and livestock.
One of our local artists even wrote a lovely song about the folks who stayed to “Save Silverton” as a way to lift spirits.
Finally, I saw several social media posts that simply said, “I am still in town. Tell me how I can help!” with a phone number listed.
A local business, Nourished Beginnings, made and distributed gallons of free soup. Source: Nourished Beginnings (Instagram)
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said that “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” This year and especially this month have put that idea to the ultimate test, as all of Oregon and indeed, our entire country and world, face unprecedented challenges.
But, at the risk of sounding naive, I will postulate that everything we need to know about surviving these and other catastrophes can be learned on Sesame Street:
Go for a walk. Get to know your neighbors. Be friendly. Offer to help in any way you can. Cooperate. Celebrate together.
The very qualities that people love most about Oregon small-town life are the things that make our communities uniquely situated to competently face any challenge that comes our way. “Oregon Nice” is what makes Oregon strong.
Kermit would agree, I’m sure.
About the Author
Hilary Dumitrescu is, first and foremost, the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. She is a writer and nonprofit leader, and runs an educational content development group with her husband Val. She lives and builds community in Silverton, Oregon.
The lament, “There’s nothing to do here,” might sound like teenage grumbling, but there may be more wisdom to it than meets the ear. Maybe we should look at our cities through the lens of organic social activities, both because they're enjoyable and because it gives us a chance to reconsider our values and the relationship between our design choices and our community’s social life.