From Coast to Coast…to Coast. My adventures as a RARE Member.

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By Lydia Ivanovic, Rural Economic Resilience Analyst, Columbia-Pacific Economic Development District

Last year a friend and I drove 3,000 miles from New York to Oregon. It was my intention to return back to my home in Queens but, as you may have already guessed, I ditched my return flight when I accepted the opportunity to serve as a RARE member in the Klamath Basin.

Author standing in front of the port basin with the Astoria bridge in the background.I spent a year at Discover Klamath working as a Rural Tourism Coordinator, building agritourism activities in the area, designing cultural heritage programs, and exploring the future of sustainable outdoor recreation (yes, you can do your part while kayaking!). After my year was up, I traded the beloved dramatic high desert landscape of my Oregon-California border life to embrace the sweeping, stormy range of the North Coast and take on my second year of RARE as a Rural Economic Recovery Analyst. Now in Astoria, I can see Washington from my front porch.

A picture of a newspaper featuring an article about the author's service on the north coast
Newspaper article from The Daily Astorian when Lydia began her term of service with Col-Pac EDD.

When I tell people of my path of arrival to the North Coast (Queens to Klamath to Clatsop County), they are surprised to hear the amount of travel and change that it took for me to arrive here. But for me, that’s one of my favorite things about serving as a RARE member; the opportunity to explore not only yourself, as an organizer, advocate, adventurer, but also as a rural Oregonian, staying curious about all the different communities that define the state’s rural landscape. Now living in Astoria, everything seems different. Where the humble potato reigns supreme in the Klamath food scene, fish and chips are practically mandatory on every north coast menu. Instead of forests dense with wild sagebrush, I now wake up to an endless coastline. Despite the things that distinguished the North Coast fishing communities from the Southern Oregon ranching families, the resilient, close-knit core of rural living remains quite the same. This familiarity of small town collaboration, politics, and yes, gossip, made me feel ready to join my new North Coast home and tackle the projects at the Port of Astoria and jump into the region’s ever evolving regional food system initiatives with ease. It’s not uncommon that your welcome into your new rural community will include a feature on the local newspaper front page!

Author leaning over a table, carving driftwood, across from another person. They are in a workshop with a boat in the background.
Lydia jumped right into her new community and pursued a driftwood project with the archeologist and shopkeeper at the Columbia River Maritime Museum.

I started my new service year with Columbia-Pacific EDD at the height of the wild fire season which ultimately burned over 1 million acres. While visiting Portland, I soon found myself stranded (but supported) as the air quality ticked higher with every hour, unable to return to Klamath Falls as a wall of growing fires closed major highways. When conditions began to clear in northern Oregon, I headed over to my new home in Astoria with the small duffle bag of clothes I had on hand and the promise of a new experience. I still have yet to return to Klamath Falls and give those parting goodbyes I promised to friends and coworkers. But, isn’t that what serving rural is all about? Knowing how to put things in perspective, how to work with what you’ve got, and how to make those hard calls to pursue your next adventure or next dream. But more than anything serving rural means building relationships where “goodbye” sounds a lot like “see you later”.

A dog is looking out over a sandy beach on a blue sky day

Photo of the author with a sly smile, wearing big dangly earrings and an embroidered shirt in front of lush foliageAbout the author, Lydia Ivanovic: After graduating Smith College in 2019 with a bachelors degree in Economics and experience working on campus food network initiatives, Lydia moved out west via cross-country road trip to serve with RARE as a Rural Tourism Coordinator with Discover Klamath in Klamath Falls, Oregon. While working she tackled numerous regional tourism projects spanning the realms of outdoor recreation, cultural heritage, and agritourism. After exploring the southern Oregon high-desert wonders of the Klamath Basin, Lydia again sought an entirely new adventure: the most Northwest corner of Oregon. Swapping an average of 340 days of sunshine a year for dense temperate rainforests, Lydia is excited to bring her skills in regional coalition building, developing local food system education and programming, and strategic planning to her work as a Rural Economic Recovery Analyst in her new Clatsop and Tillamook Communities. When logged off, Lydia enjoys rock climbing, backpacking, and playing the saxophone.

Interested in gaining community and economic development or food system experience of your own? Are you looking for a life changing experience in rural Oregon? Learn more about serving with the RARE AmeriCorps Program. Applications for Year 28 (2021-22) due April 23, 2021 by 5pm PDT.

Listening to Those Who Feel Unheard

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By Alison Smith, Rural Economic Recovery Coordinator, South Central Oregon Economic Development District

On my second week as the Rural Economic Recovery Coordinator for the South Central Oregon Economic Development District (SCOEDD), I attended a very small offsite – socially distanced as much as possible. SCOEDD supports economic development in Klamath and Lake counties in the southern part of Oregon. While I am living in Klamath, we ended up driving to Lake county for this offsite to try and get our organization’s priorities aligned with other partners. Lake is an area known for its picturesque landscapes, mountains, and dark skies. Unfortunately, it was a bleak day with a smoke-filled sky because of the recent wildfires in September. However, everyone I met could not have been kinder or more ready to help their community.

We talked a lot about our organizations’ challenges, opportunities, and strategies. However, at one point, I had an “aha” moment about living and working in rural areas in Oregon. That moment has continued to strike me in numerous ways throughout the first quarter of my service. We somehow managed to discuss a critical economic factor impacting Lake – the most likely scenario of a local prison shutting down. This shutdown order was coming from the state of Oregon. Regardless of the background and reasoning as to why they were shutting it down, Lake county citizens were angry. If the prison shuts down, 100 people of the county’s workforce may transition to other parts of Oregon or the country if they want to be in the same line of work. It also meant the possibility of 100 people no longer buying local and supporting Lake’s economy. One hundred people may not seem like a lot if you are from a larger area, but to the county, this could have damaging impacts, even if the prison was already facing extreme budget cuts over the years.

Now, I was not there to say whether it was right or wrong to shut down this prison; it was only my day eight on the job and there was plenty of reasoning from both the state and Lake county. However, there seemed to be a deeper issue at stake, even outside of the prison itself – communication. Did Oregon initially share plan details or ask Lake citizens what they thought/how this would impact them? Not really. Did citizens of Lake understand the mechanisms to try and communicate their frustrations or questions back to legislators? Not likely. There seemed to be a piece missing – the informing and sharing of details with others. It even brought up something I had not necessarily thought about before: the urban/rural divide. It seemed that these self-proclaimed two sides did not have the desire to hear each other out. There was only frustration. At times in the conversation, I could see why both were not willing to listen. What made it even more difficult was the fact that the prison is not the lone scenario. This type of frustration has happened with agricultural land, water, and more. It also has not always happened with Oregon’s legislatures – it could be larger businesses too. Regardless, this type of situation gives the illusion that there are two sides enormously far apart from one another.

Landscape photo of Klamath County with dry grass in the foreground, blue mountains in the distance, and high clouds above
Klamath County

Pivoting briefly, I grew up in a county with 1.1 million people. I went to a secondary school (7th-12th grade) with roughly 3,500-4,000 students in it. I then proceeded to go to a university that had nearly 44,000 undergraduate students at the time. Finally, before joining RARE, I lived and worked in Washington DC, with 705,749 people (a 9,856.5 population per square mile). All I have ever known was a vast place to grow up, live, and work. I did not know of or hear about many policies, legislation, or decision-making impacting me other than at the federal level (well, and if you want to get technical, DC is not a state anyway). I assumed that most legislation took into account the majority of peoples’ voices. While that is not necessarily false (more people = more voices), I failed to understand the impacts on the communities that do not fall into the “more people per square mile” category.

 

I do not think anyone is right or wrong in these situations. However, there is minimal communication, elaboration, or question to people who may bear some of the brunt of a decision, policy, or legislation. Lake county has a population of just under 7,900 people. All I could think about after the meeting and the prison example was, “who is listening to these 7,900 people?” Pushing aside “wrong” versus “right” here, I realized that many folks in my community feel unheard. I do not think there is an easy solution for this. Still, the fact I sat, listened, and realized that there may be a communication failure and that there was not a lot of discussion around local decision-making, policy, and legislation brought that “aha’ moment to me full throttle. It put me in a perspective I had never been in before.

RARE offers many opportunities for so many people, but I find it particularly important for people with my background. Hearing about this impact was extremely important for me, as it has opened my eyes to some challenges, yet opportunities, surrounding us, but particularly for rural areas. Being from a city and large places allows me to come in with differing views and experiences that can get others to see this perception if shared correctly and respectfully. But the best part is that the reverse can happen. Hearing about different backgrounds, experiences, and views has enabled me to piece together a very complicated, convoluted, and often tricky US puzzle. Do not get me wrong: RARE will not help you solve every problem in the community – and I think that makes sense; that would be nearly impossible, and even if it could, that change should likely come from within the community. However, it enables you to gain different perspectives while also learning new skills, meeting new people, and gaining valuable experiences. It can also help the community by placing someone in the area to provide new perspectives and appropriate ideas.

I would not have been able to see these challenges or hear the voices of those who feel unheard if I had not done RARE. There is truly something to be said about being placed in an area where people are quite different than you – you learn so much more than you think (and I like to believe community members do as well), and you may also find that a lot of us have some things in common. Active listening and learning about one another has significantly helped me professionally, but also personally. We will not necessarily change each other’s views or perspectives, nor will we solve every policy or legislative challenge, but we can search for common ground to help our communities.

Photo of the author smiling in front of a treeAbout the author, Alison Smith: Alison hails from the Washington, DC metropolitan area where she spent the last five years in the business consulting industry. She completed her undergraduate studies at Penn State University, majoring in Business Management and minoring in both International Studies and Psychology. Alison is excited to take her business experience and couple that with more community and grassroots level planning with the RARE AmeriCorps Program. She is passionate about the triple bottom line – social, economic, and environmental success – and helping others prepare for and overcome change. In her free time, she can be found hiking, soaking up the sunshine and outdoors, trying new food, and catching up on her favorite TV shows and books.

Interested in gaining community and economic development experience of your own? Are you looking for a life changing experience in rural Oregon? Learn more about serving with the RARE AmeriCorps Program. Applications for Year 28 (2021-22) due April 23, 2021.