Eugene’s Exclusion Zone

Posted on February 15, 2012 by admin

The Exclusion Zone Map

In 2008, Eugene’s city council approved a nasty piece of business. They called it the Public Safety Zone. This was a marked territory of Eugene, Oregon’s downtown landscape that served as an exclusion zone for designated citizens. Police officers were given the option to 86 any man, woman or child from this area without having the burden of just cause. This ruling was designed specifically to push the homeless out of our city.

This year, the much protested ruling is up for review. Although city council did not allow the public that funds this rule to vote on its approval, we were allowed to speak on the issue before it was reconsidered.

Occupy Eugene asked me to speak in front of the council on behalf of our medical committee. Occupy has been working to bring democracy back to America. This exclusion zone represents discrimination against the poor. I admit that I also saw this as an excellent time to brag about the wonderful work my fellow medical volunteers have accomplished thus far. I beg your indulgence.

February 13th, 2012

Good evening Mayor Piercy and members of the Eugene City Council. My name is Sue Sierralupe. I have been a citizen of this fair city for 30 years and I am an organizer of Occupy’s free medical clinic. For the past few Sundays, our team of doctors, nurses and other health care professionals have been offering medical service to any one who needs our help. Our volunteers originally assembled to support the Occupy Movement.

No one understands how devastated our economy is more than heath care professionals. We have seen families agonize over decisions between paying for overpriced medical procedures and keeping their homes. We have watched patients die because they waited to the last moment to seek medical care they knew they couldn’t afford.

Since we first set up our little first aid tent in the Parks Block back in October, the numbers of patients that have wandered in for care has grown exponentially. Back in October, 1 or 2 medical volunteers on staff at one time was more than enough to serve the community. When we reopened Occupy Medical last Sunday at the steps of the Federal Building, we brought a staff of 12. We were busy. Most of the population that we serve come to us because they have little or no health insurance. They are the homeless, the underemployed or just the unlucky.

Occupy Medical is growing. This last Sunday, we were joined by Food not Bombs. Next Sunday, LCC’s nursing students have volunteered to help our cause. In our spare time, our team is organizing a street outreach program in which we will traveling to homeless camps and under bridges to bring medical care directly to the people who so desperately need it. Eugene is community of good-hearted, hard working people who want to make a difference. In another month or 2, we will have out grown the floor space that the Federal building has to offer. We will need to move to the Park Blocks which is inside the Exclusion zone. This means that we will no longer be able to help the patients that have been singled out to leave our downtown area.

No civilization can survive without health care. We all know that the numbers of the poor and the homeless are growing. If we don’t take care of their needs, we leave ourselves open to a medical disaster of epidemic proportions.

Exclusion zones are designed to shield the public from toxic hazards. Examples of exclusion zone include Chernobyl and Coffin Bay. Treating our homeless population as a visual hazard that must be shielded from the eyes of middle class shoppers is shameful … and dangerous. Hiding the suffering of our neighbors has only served to make our problems worse. Please fix this error.

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Internet Blackout

Posted on January 21, 2012 by admin

Argh!

As editor and founder of the Herbalist Manifesto and The Practical Herbalist.com, I have decided to stand in solidarity with the millions of Americans who are protesting the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) and the PROTECT IP Act (PIPA). These initiatives are founded in fear and misinformation.

Internet piracy is a bad thing. I have had my own work stolen. Copyright protection is constant battle for writers, artists and musicians. These initiates do not, however, protect us. SOPA and PIPA make it more difficult for us.

Under this law, giving a reference or link to a site that contains a pirated item, makes you guilty of piracy. On my own site, The Practical Herbalist, I have close to 200 originally written articles. One would imagine that adding a link to my site would be a safe bet. Not so. I back up my articles with links to other articles and resources. This translates into references into over 1,000 different sites.

Could any one possibly check into every link even if they read every one of my articles? If some one wanted to post a link to my article on treating mono, they would have a month of dedicated reading ahead of them just to be safe from prosecution. This is just one minor flaw in the plan. I could go on.

SOPA and PIPA are badly written initiatives. Our country can’t afford another law that cripples artists, disables education and suppresses freedom of speech. We can stop this. Send an e-mail to your congressional representative with your concerns.

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86ing at Occupy

Posted on December 18, 2011 by admin

Occupy Eugene - Volunteers Keep the Paths Clean

Greenhorn protesters are adorable. They view every guy with a good haircut as a spy. Their protest signs must contain at least one exclamation point. The greenhorn is the first kid at the organizational meeting to ask questions about tear gas. How cute is that?

As a seasoned protester, I choose to attend as few meetings as humanly possible and then pick one committee that will utilize my skill set. After that, I establish a regular schedule and stick to it. At Occupy Eugene, I am in the medical tent passing out cough drops and band-aids. I have 3 – 3 hour shifts during the week. If there is a conflict at home, I call ahead to let my med tent buddies that I won’t be coming in. I am very boring.

Greenhorn enthusiasm is contagious. The torrent of ideas from just one little greenhorn is astonishing. The Occupy movement in the hands of these excited young people takes on a caffeinated heart beat. Democracy seems just within reach for our struggling country after just a few minutes of listening to these kids.

I need that enthusiasm. I work a full time job. I have kids to raise. I, like many of my neighbors, are struggling to survive. The rat race is beating me down. Adding another time suck to already over committed schedule by working at Occupy seems ridiculous but it actually makes things easier. I need the energy and high minded ideals that these greenhorns vibrate with to keep me going.

Boring, old protesters like me help out too. We show up regularly and do the jobs that go unreported by the news. We run the kitchen, sort recycling and pay the bills. We also bite.

When the movement was new, we had a staggering variety of protesters and squatters. Some participants were helpful. Some were not. The experienced protesters watched the crowd and figured out who they could work with and who they should avoid.

When our movement had trouble with a protester who had considerable anger control problems, a group of us proposed that the protester be 86ed. The greenhorns were alarmed. We were considered heartless and shortsighted. Occupy is for all of us. This a democracy. Point taken, greenhorns.

Here is the big secret about protests that experience teaches you: hands-on protesting is not for everyone. It takes a certain amount of calm to face confrontation with success. If you do not have the ability to think your way through stressful situations without aggravating it, you don’t belong there. Some one can and will get hurt.

Occupy has a camp. It is not for every one either. If you can’t interact in a group setting without turning to violence and anger, you also don’t belong there. This movement is too important to the future of our country to spare energy babysitting foul-tempered abusers.

The community must be protected. This is why the elder protesters “bite”. We may not have the boundless energy of the young people around us but we know how to keep that energy flowing. It is all a matter of focus. Don’t waste time on unnecessary problems. This is the lesson of experience. This is why we 86 people.

There are many avenues for protest. Some people get arrested. Some people post information on the internet. Some people wave signs. Some people camp. Some people wash dishes. Some people just fold their arms, sigh and remind people to breath. That is what keeps our protest alive.

*** Thank you, David Sierralupe for the photograph.

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Elderberry to the Rescue

Posted on December 2, 2011 by admin

Elderberries for All

I am an unabashed elderberry fan. It is not a one-size-fits-all herb like garlic. It doesn’t grow neatly on a kitchen window like sage. It isn’t easy to pick without a ladder like cayenne. It doesn’t wander into the front yard like dandelion. Yet with all the work that I have to do to appreciate this herb, I can’t help but adore it.

Elderberry is an antiviral herb that specifically targets enveloped viruses. The virus family that I battle most consistently is the influenza viruses which are elderberry’s prime target. Unlike the flu vaccine that hits one type of flu at a time, elderberry takes them all on.

As the winter months start to drag my neighbors back to bed complaining of a sore throat and fever, elderberry keeps my immune system on top of its game. In addition to cleaning clingy viruses out of my blood stream, the flavonoids in elderberry encourage my aging body to rebuild damage from oxidants.

Elderberry is safe to take on a daily basis. Elderly patients, children and people with compromised immune systems can take a shot of elderberry tincture every day without concern. Elderberry comes in a variety of forms which make it very easy to take: syrups, lozenges, capsules, tinctures and teas.

My personal favorite tonight is shimmering in my wine glass. Elderberry wine is a traditional drink that is sweet and tart. It isn’t a fancy wine. It doesn’t take much work to produce your own batch of wine either. Just be certain that you are using blue or black elderberries since red elderberries are inedible.

I have an adoration for the elder plant as well. I have chanced upon an elder shrub on a hike just after it had lost it’s fall foliage. The elder’s long branches waved it’s load of ripe berries with such grace that I literally stopped in my tracks. I stared as the branches smoothly stretched and bent in the wind. I admit that I actually got a little misty eyed at the sight.

Memories of elder’s dance on that hillside all those years ago still makes me smile. It was that moment that I knew I had lost my heart to skinny, bare-armed shrub. Elder still has my dedication. Tonight as I swirl the contents of elderberry wine in my glass after a long day of work, I know that I have much more to learn about this humble herb.  I look forward to challenge.

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Our Cops

Posted on November 7, 2011 by admin

Our Heroes

America is uneasy. Reporters have shocked the nation with visions of police violence against protesters this year as the Occupy movement picks up steam. A college student bleeds into the pavement as a police officer prepares to handcuff him. A protester is run over by a motorcycle cop. A war veteran is brained by a tear gas canister. It’s getting nasty.

Occupy Eugene has been baffled. We are wondering what went wrong. As we understood the movement, it was a protest of the underhanded double dealings that are crippling this country. In order to change it, we have to present a different attitude. This means being clear in communication and open with decision making. That means talking to our cops.

We talked to our cops. Our cops talked to us. We talked to the city mangers. Our city managers talked to us. We talked to our mayor. Our mayor talked to us. We worked it out.

Our cops had very reasonable requests. They had security concerns and sanitation concerns. We worked out how to meet these concerns with the approval of the General Assembly. We now have a working kitchen, a medical tent, 24 hour peacekeepers, regularly maintained toilets, a covered assembly tent, and an on-site library. We covered the paths with barko mulch paid for by donations.

Our cops come by and check to make sure every thing running smoothly. Sometimes they bring donations of warm clothing on their days off. Sometimes they stop traffic so we can march without interruption. Sometimes they pop over to settle a disturbance. They do it all with style and grace.

Our cops do not lurk scowling in corners. They do not threaten people with batons. They do not toss flash grenades at citizens running to the aid of an injured American. They do not confiscate space heaters the night before a snowstorm.

Our cops are civilized. They understand the point of the Occupy movement to prompt social and economic evolution. They understand that what we accomplish here will make every one’s life better.

We like our cops. Pay attention, America. This is where the real news is.

*Thanks to David Sierralupe for sharing his photo.

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Occupy Eugene

Posted on October 10, 2011 by admin

The Occupy movement is washing across America. The economic leviathan of unmonitored capitalism is destroying families and small businesses. Lobbyists for big businesses get front row treatment in Congress. Senators check with billionaires before making policy decisions. The 1% of Americans with the lion’s share of the country’s assets are drowning the remaining 99%.

Our standing is crumbling. We are the disenfranchised. Unrepresented, uncared for and unhappy with our lot. The economy is getting worse but the upper 1% are barely feeling the pinch. Meanwhile, houses stand empty from mortgage scams and the lines to the homeless shelters extend out into the streets.

The Occupy Wall Street movement wants to save lives. The economy needs a shake up. The status quo is not acceptable. Now is the time for change.

Occupy Eugene - 1st Meeting Before the Protest

I am not an economist. The Herbalist Manifesto does not pretend to represent a voice for economic revolution. I do make my stand for sustainability. Our current system is obviously not sustainable. (See Professor Dumhoff’s in-depth article “Wealth, Income and Power” on a realistic view of how much the upper 1% controls in America.)

Without economic justice, the lower 99% will continue to sicken and die. We need health care. We need access to education so that more of us can properly care for the health of others. Healthy, organic food should not be reserved for the wealthy. Proper health care should not be reserved for the wealthy. Wall Street should not decide what medicine we have access to. It’s just not right. (See the Institute of Medicine’s report “Insuring America’s Health: Principles and Recommendations” for more information on how the current inequalities in our health care system is crippling America.)

The Herbalist Manifesto stands for a healthy America. I live in a tiny town at the edge of America. Occupy Wall Street is coming to Eugene. I am there, in the rain, with my little blue umbrella and a eye on my friends holding cardboard signs. I am just one person; one voice in the dark. I am speaking to any one who, like me, wants a better future. I am adding my voice to those commanding the bloated 1% to get their hands off our neck and let us breath.

 

*Thanks to David Sierralupe for the photo.

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Coyote and Bobcat’s New Boots

Posted on September 29, 2011 by admin

Welcome to “The Coyote Revival Tales“. These are modern stories based on true events from friends, family and other brave souls. I have retold them with a Coyote twist to make them more fun. If you have a crazy story that I can pull some Coyote energy out of that you would like to see in this blog, send it to me. Remember it’s just for fun – no fame, no fortune – just the way Coyote would like it.

Coyote Revival Tales Chapter 3 – Bobcat’s New Boots

by Sue Sierralupe

Bobcat eased his Cadillac into a parking spot in front of Skunk’s barbershop. He sat for a few minutes in idle to enjoy the air conditioner before stepping out onto the hot sidewalk. His caddie was vibrating from the bass notes that his high fidelity stereo was cranking out.

Coyote and Snake squinted at each other from their perch on the barbershop’s brick window ledge. Bobcat was always showing off. This irritated Coyote and Snake because Bobcat had more money to show off with.

Bobcat waited until he had the attention of every pedestrian within spitting distance of his sedan before turning off the engine. He opened the car door very slowly. Then he stepped onto the sidewalk and gave an exaggerated turn in profile to click his car alarm remote. Bobcat tipped back on his heels.

Coyote and Snake noticed Bobcat’s new boots at the same time. They were steel tipped, white and gray cowboy boots with Stingray inlays. Coyote drew in his breath. He couldn’t help himself. Snake went pale. He recognized the leather: Diamondback. Snake hissed weakly. Bobcat glanced at him and sneered.

“I was looking for you, boys. I got a dairy barn that needs to be shoveled. After that, you will need to lay fresh hay in the stalls. I will pay handsomely: $50 for the day … each. What do you say?”

Coyote looked at Snake. Then he looked at Bobcat. Then he looked back at Snake. Bobcat yawned impatiently, then bent down to brush some imaginary dust from his snakeskin boots. Coyote grinned a slow grin.

“We’d love too.”

Snake stared at his friend in horror. He could visualize Bobcat’s barn clearly. He knew just how much poop 80 cows could generate. He and Coyote had cleaned it out last time. He knew that Bobcat was planning on playing them for suckers again.

Snake stared at those god awful boots again. Coyote tapped is muzzle and winked knowingly. He had a twinkle in his eye. Snake sighed in defeat. Coyote had a plan and Snake just hoped that he was going to enjoy it.

Coyote and Snake worked all day digging cow poop out of the stalls in Bobcat’s barn. Then they broke up some of the bales but instead of spreading hay in the stalls, they piled the loose hay in a big pile in the center of the barn.

Bobcat came in to inspect their work. The stalls were clean but he was unhappy with the lack of bedding for his cows. Coyote signaled Snake to stay quiet. He was getting that grin on his face again. Snake crossed his arms and glared at Bobcat’s boots.

“Listen, boys, I want to pay you for your work, I really do, but the job isn’t finished yet. You gotta spread the hay around. That was part of the deal.”

“Sorry, Bobcat,” said Coyote, “Your field hands came in and borrowed the pitchforks. We can’t spread it without pitchforks.”

“Sure you can, fellows. Just kick it around. It shouldn’t take you that long.”

Coyote grinned again and then scratched his head as if he didn’t understand. He walked over to the hay pile and tapped at the hay with his toe. A few bits of straw shifted gently.

“No, no, no,” said Bobcat impatiently. “You have to really give it a good solid kick. You really gotta put some muscle in it or the cows will be in the barn before their bedding is spread.”

Coyote cocked his head curiously. Bobcat sighed and shook his head.

“Fine. Watch me. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Bobcat approached the pile and glanced apologetically to his new boots. He swung his leg back and gave the hay pile an overly dramatic kick. The pile did not scatter. Instead, it seemed to suck Bobcat’s leg in and hold it fast.

Bobcat yowled in surprise as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He writhed and kicked with his other boot. There was a sucking sound as he tried to pull his leg out of the pile. Bobcat did not want to lose his boot in the pile so he stuck his leg back in and tried to dig through the pile to free himself.

Coyote and Snake laughed as they watched Bobcat get drawn deeper and deeper into the giant pile of cow poop that they had hidden under the hay. They slapped themselves on the back and took turns taking pictures on their cell phones with Bobcat struggling in the  background.

As the pranksters headed for home, Snake clapped Coyote on the shoulder.

“I now understand why you insisted on soaking that big pile of cow poop with the hose so thoroughly before we covered it in hay. We really played a good trick on him.”

Coyote nodded.

“I just wish we could be there tonight when he cleans up.”

“Why?” asked Snake.

“He’s a cat. You know how they clean themselves.”

Then it was Snake’s turn to grin a slow grin. He wished he could be there too.

 

*This story was based on a trick that my grandfather played on his brother when he was young. No snakes were harmed in the making of his boots.

 

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Pirates for Fairies

Posted on September 24, 2011 by admin

Fairies are an ornery bunch. They have a strict dress code and a stricter code of conduct. They do not respond well to sheep dogs.

I have volunteered as security for various festivals throughout Oregon for many years. It is a great way to enjoy expensive festivals in exchange for a few low pressure shifts. The job usually requires a strong knack for shepherding. Like sheep dogs, my security volunteers and I yap at the corners keeping festival attendees in the safe zone. 

Most fairgoers are used to this technique. They stare at us blankly for a minute or 2 and then wander off to greener pastures. This group was a little different. Faery World attendees are not herd animals. I learned to disguise my sheep dog ways.

The Faerie World folk are dedicated to their costumes. I have never before seen so many fairy wings, unicorn horns and stovepipe hats assembled in one place. Any one without a costume was eyed with suspicion. As my son and I worked the gate in our jeans and staff t-shirts checking admission bracelets, a fair goernoted our lack of costumery and declared us “naked”. The addition of a lacy skirt to my security ensemble the next day seemed to appease the masses.

I am not a showy person. I don’t like costumes. I am impatient with the maintenance that dressing up requires. I am annoyed with stockings, I don’t like the smell of make up, and the one time I had to wear a corset for a play, I was ready to claw my way out of it by the final act. I have seen chihuahuas show more patience wearing a Halloween costume than I display.

Other than thier code of conduct at Fairy Worlds is quite civilized. There was a seemingly unending fountain of alcohol but very few drunks. Smokers, with a few notable exceptions, stuck to the road as the fire marshal demanded. Children are treasured. The fair offers a kid-friendly area complete with crafts, puppets, and a friendly giant with a foam mallet. Safety and respect for all participants is a top priority.

My job as a security ranger seemed to consist of finding lost children, giving rowdy participants a hug to mellow them out and saving smokers from forest service fines. The uniformed members of the Parks Department showed up Saturday night and started threatening to pass out $200 tickets for smoking anywhere but the road. This would make for some very angry fairies.

The security crew fanned out into the crowd. We approached each and every smoker to warn them to stick to the road. Any smoker that sniffed our inner sheep dog, became instantly defensive. We learned to refine our approach. We stuffed our herding techniques into tricorner hats and became pirates.

The smokers were our pirate crew. We stopped trying to shoo them to the road like sheep, instead we were protecting hidden treasure from the Park Service invaders. Our fellow pirates banded together and spread the word to the rest of the smokers.

“All hands on deck! Man your battle stations! Don’t let those dastardly park rangers reach for those ticket books!”

Our pirating ways won us smiles and saved a lot of fairies expensive headaches from the rangers. Next year, I might bring an eye patch. It will help disguise that inner sheep dog.

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Garlic Day in Sierralupeland

Posted on August 21, 2011 by admin

Braids of Goodness

The garlic was ripe and ready to harvest. The leaves were drying and flowers were fading. It was garlic harvest time.

I bundled up the garlic that I had pulled and laid it on on the lawn by the deck chairs. My son, Dylan, wandered out to see what I was up to this time. It was herbs again, of course, but this time it was food-centered herbs. This was an herb a teenaged boy can support. He offered his assistance gallantly.

I sent him to the kitchen for a couple of knives and a bowl. This kid was going to be my garlic peeler. I was going to concentrate on garlic braiding.

I gathered all the soft-necked garlic and, after peeling off the extra leaves, braided 3 clusters. I secured them with ribbons and hung them in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Dylan kept peeling garlic cloves.

I collected the largest hard-necked garlic and trimmed the roots. I nipped off the neck and peeled a few outer layers of garlic skin to give them a clean look. Some of the garlic would be replanted this fall. I like to save a few cloves from the hardiest garlic heads as we enjoy the rest for cooking. Meanwhile, Dylan kept peeling garlic cloves.

I joined Dylan in the deck chairs. He had already peeled a lot of garlic so now it was time for his loving mom to swoop in and steal his thunder. Wait. No. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant it time for his loving mom to lend a hand.

The garlic that Dylan and I had peeled (okay, mostly Dylan) went into a canning jar that we filled with balsamic vinegar. We capped and labeled the jar and put it in the refrigerator to soak. After a few days, Dylan and I could start nibbling on the pickled garlic or tossing it into salads. After the garlic has been enjoyed, the garlic-infused vinegar is available for cooking or dashing on vegetables.

This is why my teenaged boy was willing to sit in the sun with his herbally unstable mother peeling bulb after bulb. Dylan is a good worker. I rely on him to help me with a vast array of projects.  He is also very smart. Each garlic clove that he denuded represented a snack or dinner item.

To me, garlic is family-friendly medicine. I think of garlic as an antibiotic, immune stimulant and cholesterol lowering herb. As my son and I sat in the backyard laughing and exchanging stories as we carved the ends off yet another clove, it looked like our sulfuric friend offered more than medicine and food. It offered a chance to connect with my wonderful son. What more can you ask from an herb?

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Calling All Converts

Posted on August 16, 2011 by admin

The Feverfew Bait

My husband, Dave, uses herbs the way most people use radiator coolant. Herbs are always around but he only seeks them out when his engine goes dry. Since he lives with an herbalist, he has an admirable knowledge base of botanical medicine. He eats garlic when he gets a cold. He uses Tiger Balm on his aching muscles. He takes Oregon Grape tincture when he gets an infection.

Dave is patient with the bouquets of stinging nettle hanging upside down in the hall. He doesn’t complain when the house fills with the potent odor of homemade cough syrup. He watches silently as the dining room table is abducted to sort elderberries. He is the very model of a modern herbalist spouse.

He is not, however, a convert. As far as he is concerned, herbs are a lot more trouble than they are worth. He has seen me return from wild crafting, covered in mud, burs and scratches. In his secret opinion, herbalists probably only use the herbs that they have collected because they have injured themselves so brutally trying to collect them. He might be right but his viewpoint is doomed.

Dave suffers from migraines. He has, like every other desperate migraine sufferer, tried everything to stop them. He has gulped pharmaceuticals, controlled his diet, and checked himself for allergies. Nothing has worked. Last week, after an afternoon of migraine wrestling, he decided to try herbs.

Debilitating illnesses like migraines are how we herbalists get our converts. A young woman contacted me a few years ago about the migraines that confined her to bed writhing in agony several days a month. How do you keep a job with this kind of life? How do you find the courage to wake up and face another day?

She, like Dave, had also tried everything and was now ready to experiment with herbs. I gave her the standard herbal advise: watch your diet, drink lots of water, exercise, reduce her stress and eat one feverfew leaf every day.

A few months later, I got a phone call from her. She was an herbalist reborn. Feverfew had picked up her life, dusted it off and handed it back to her. Now she new alternative medicine Messiah. Who knew that the solution to her suffering was growing in a planter by her front door?

Like Dave, she was familiar with alternative medicine and natural living before trying feverfew. The relief from the this sunny, little plant pushed her into the deep end of the herbal pool. Hold your breath, Dave. Get ready to take the plunge.

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