Creating a Servant Leadership Culture

INTEGRITY. TEAMWORK. EXCELLENCE. CUSTOMER EXPERIENCE. PROGRESSION. 

These are the values of O’Brien Dental Lab. 

At O’Brien, the leadership team lives these values. These values are not mere words – these values are alive at O’Brien. These values are evident in the actions and interactions that the leadership team extends to its customers, to each other, and to their team.

In 2018, O’Brien Dental Lab, specializing in restorations and custom implants, brought 16 of their leaders to work with Terri Houde, corporate trainer for Extended Learning. Their goal was to create a two-day, customized leadership retreat focused on Servant Leadership. 

“It was a great team building experience, forcing us to get out of our comfort zone and be totally honest with each other,” said participant Lee Montgomery.

Before training began, Terri emphasized the importance in understanding that Servant Leadership is more than a philosophy – it is a practice. And that practice of a leader, she said, develops the culture of an organization. 

In the training, participants focused on exploring the role of a leader, the power of being authentic, and the path to building a Servant Leadership culture. Participant Tony Megale summarized his experience after reflecting on their time with Terri.

“The question you have to ask your heart is: Are you here to serve or be served?” Tony said.

Everything from productivity, communication, and collaboration can be improved by Servant Leadership principles because a servant leader’s first practice is always to serve.

Karli Luksch, Senior Team Leader at O’Brien, has seen more efficiency company-wide since their retreat with Terri. Among other things, she has noticed its positive impact on the manner in which they serve their customers.

“We are able to discuss issues within the frameworks we learned and come up with solutions faster for various situations that come up on a daily basis,” she said. “It was valuable to have a cohesive message and philosophy articulated to the group and to work through the exercises that helped grow us individually and as a team.”

Terri’s focus during the facilitation helped lead O’Brien participants to their own conclusions of who they are and how they will be.

“Servant Leadership is a way of being,” Karli said. “You have to believe it on a personal and internal level. It is a mindset that requires continual growth and challenging yourself to be in a constant state of getting better. I do more, to get more, so I can give more.”

With her knowledge and passion for teaching, Terri inspired another participant, Mike Wilson, with her willingness to be vulnerable with the group as they explored their own selves.

“She created an atmosphere where team members felt empowered to share their thoughts and concerns with respect to what our company's challenges are and how we can improve.”

Since Terri’s training with O’Brien, the team is still putting the tools learned to use and building upon those tools for continued improvement on a holistic level.

*This content was written for Linn-Benton Community College Extended Learning.

Sprinkle the Good

Jolene Wilson enrolled at Linn-Benton Community College to further her career goals, as many others do. At the time, over a decade ago, her plan was to become a Dental Hygienist.

After her time at LBCC, she moved away and traveled, following her husband who was in the Navy. She was exposed to new cultures and places, taking note of new flavors and foods. 

She had always eaten healthy but began to take initiative in cooking healthier for her family. With more time at home after her firstborn, Jolene became more involved in baking.

“I fell in love with it,” she said. “So, I started baking cakes.” 

Then, she started making sprinkles.

“It’s a labor of love; it’s a lot of mixing and processing and dyeing,” she said.

After years of practicing her craft and attending a culinary academy in Alabama, Jolene’s family moved back to Albany. In 2017, Natural Sprinkles Co. was introduced as a booth at the farmers market with baked goods adorned with handmade, all-natural sprinkles.

When Jolene realized the complexity of running a business, she knew she needed guidance. She went back to LBCC where her journey had begun years before. There, she found the Small Business Development Center (SBDC).

At the SBDC, Jolene was paired with Anne Whittington, advisor for over 12 years. With Anne, a seasoned business owner, Jolene found the expertise she had been looking for.

“Anne really helped me work through my fears of small business,” Jolene said. 

Anne helped her figure out how to price her products. She encouraged her to know how long it took to make those products. She introduced resources Jolene would need to build her business, and she introduced people in the community she should be connected with.

“I met with her consistently each week,” Jolene said. “It’s been really great to have Anne in my back pocket.”

Through the SBDC, Jolene even got Quickbooks training to better manage her bottom line. 

After years of working her booth at the farmers market and building a customer base, she was ready for a storefront. 

After six months of searching, Jolene found the future home of Natural Sprinkles. Everything from plumbing to electric to tearing down walls needed to be done and the SBDC helped find reliable contractors for the job.

It took a year to complete the remodel, transforming it into a light and bright place that pops with color and comfort. The grand opening came in November of 2018. 

“We’re looking at this as an investment in the community,” Jolene said. “After leaving our service in the military, this is kind of our extended service to the community.”

*This content was written for Linn-Benton Community College Extended Learning.

Making the roads safer, one student at a time

Leah Hansen is a certified instructor for LBCC’s Driver Education program. Each instructor has their own reason they teach safe driving to teens, but for Leah, her passion is personal. 

The privilege that driving allows has been something Leah has appreciated for most her life. She spent many years as a Corvallis city bus driver and often considered becoming a driving instructor. But, it wasn’t until a fateful event nearly a decade ago in which she finally found the motivation to start teaching.

Charles Simmons, her former husband, was a lawyer in Eastern Oregon. He was leaving for an early deposition in court on a September morning in 2009. He had driven almost 100 miles that morning and was only 9 miles away from his destination when he fell asleep behind the wheel. When his car crossed the center line, he hit a truck pulling a livestock trailer and died on impact.

“Even though he had his seatbelt on and his airbag deployed,” Leah said, “he was in a tiny car and the vehicle he hit was very heavy.”

Although all the factors surrounding his accident are unknown, what Leah does know is that he worked long hours, often on little sleep. With many hours of preparing and planning for his cases, she believes his routine of limited sleep caught up to him.

“Safe driving is something I am super passionate about,” she said, “because obviously, his accident was horrible, and I don’t want it to happen to someone else if I can help it.”

In the classes Leah teaches, she focuses not only on the rules of the road and how to safely operate a vehicle, but she also reiterates personal preparedness and safety.

“Drowsy driving is the same as driving impaired, and far more pervasive, actually,” she said. ”And teenagers are especially apt to drowsy driving because their lives are very full.”

With school, work, sports, homework and social obligations, teenagers need more sleep than most adults and making sure her students understand the importance of staying alert while driving is a personal mission for Leah.

“They watch a video about drowsy driving and then I show them the pictures,” she said. “The response has been positive every time. They’re obviously very engaged because it happened to someone they know, which is me.”

For the last four years, she has been teaching about 25 students a term. After Leah’s students get to know her throughout each term, during the final weeks of class she shows them a photo of her former husband’s car at the scene of the accident. 

With many of the students approaching her after class and thanking her for sharing her story, Leah looks forward to each new term when she gets to meet and educate her next cohort of young drivers.

*This content was written for Linn-Benton Community College Extended Learning.

Plying with the Palatte

Mark Allison has been a Community Education instructor at LBCC for 25 years, a recipient of the 2003 Teacher of the Year award, and an accomplished artist.

The son of a photographer and a civil engineer, his life has been largely influenced by aesthetics, composition, and creation. The first time he sat at an easel, made by his parents, he was 5 years old. That was the start of what would become his lifelong passion.

His Open Studio class, one of several he teaches through Community Education, is designed for beginning to advanced artists to create freely with Mark’s guidance when requested.

On an April morning, 15 people came to create, ages spanning from teenager to retiree. One painted a portrait of his sister’s dog for her birthday. Another painted his son’s ‘63 Chevy for his birthday. Someone else painted a landscape from a photo on her phone. Some used pencils, some used paint, some used charcoal. 

A group of students gathered around Mark who began a color intensity exercise. On a piece of paper, he showed them different styles of applying paint. He discussed how the oils on your hands affect the paper, how the dampness of your brush will react on paper, and how a paint stroke will look based on the pressure applied.

“Working with water is kind of like driving in traffic - you have to kind of hurry along,” he told the students. “You have to carefully access the dampness of the paper.”

He showed onlookers how to mix colors to make other colors, and recommended colors to use or not use. He cautioned of things to consider when choosing colors. He explained in poetic detail why he prefers some colors over others.

“The color yellow is for relaxation, often used by color therapists,” he told them. “Blue reduces heart rate so it’s a great color for a bedroom. Red does the opposite.”

Looking at the palette in front of him, he pointed to a vibrant red.

“The color of love,” he said, “it just opens your heart looking at it.” 

Around the classroom, Mark displayed paintings used as visuals to show techniques he referred to. Many of the works used Cubism, a technique made famous by Pablo Picasso, where geometric shapes create two-dimensional images. 

“I like using sharp edges,” he told his students “Jagged and sharp edges get both right and left brain to look at them.”

Since the left side of the brain wants to create order and the right side does not, Mark explained the tidiness of the geometric shapes that create abstract images gives the brain both order and chaos, attracting both sides to engage.

Mark encouraged his students to understand the rules of painting; why things are taught the way they are.

“Once you learn the rules you can then start to challenge them,” he told the class. “But first, you learn the rules.”

With many accomplishments as an artist in his own right, Mark was selected to design the 2009 Fall Festival poster and has received a Purchase Award from Oregon State University for his works featuring agriculture. 

*This content was written for Linn-Benton Community College Extended Learning. 

Gifts of Sensitivity

Catherine VanWetter grew up feeling like she was different than those around her. She was often told she was “too sensitive” or “too fragile” and that she needed to “get over it” when things bothered her more than others thought it should. She spent a lot of time punishing herself for feeling too much.

Catherine now knows she is different. And she knows she does feel more than others. She has made it her life’s work to educate people about her gift—her gift of sensitivity. 

As is 15-20% of the population, Catherine is a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). HSPs have neurological systems designed to feel more than the other 80%. They have heightened sensitivity about oneself, others, and their environment.

“They are shamans and medicine people of indigenous peoples,” Catherine said. “They are the peacemakers, the counselors, those that are intuitive and empathetic.” 

Catherine has dedicated her career working in community mental health so that she can help other HSPs.

“Being sensitive in my family was not really a blessing,” she said. “All of my training was self-preservation and to find like-minded people.”

And that she has done.

“When sensitives are in a room together it’s like we’ve all written the other’s story,” Catherine said. ”Our stories aren’t that different.”

In the 30 years she has worked in the Corvallis area, Catherine has had many clients who battle depression and contemplate suicide. She has found about 75% of the people she has worked with are HSPs. 

“We live in a culture that is sometimes less than kind to people who are timid, kind, and emotional,” she said. “And those people might find it hard to fit in.”

HSPs tend to feel the mood of those around them, taking on emotions that are not their own. Because of this, it can be hard for HSPs to decipher if what they are feeling is their own or someone else’s. 

Catherine has learned that depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and isolation are side effects of being an HSP. This is because HSPs have heightened physical, mental, and emotional responses to stimuli, making them overwhelmed by the amount of information they must process. They find it difficult to quiet the sounds, smells, lights, and other stimuli around them. 

“When most people have 10 fingers to feel with, imagine the HSP has 50,” Catherine said.

She believes that many people choose to suppress or ignore their sensitivity because our society employs the mindset that we must be strong and thick-skinned.

“It is my mission to educate people, to empower them to educate others, and create a culture where sensitives can live in alignment,” she said.

In her work, Catherine helps HSPs and their families create a proper balance in their day which might include meditation, creative arts, walks in nature, or yoga. She helps HSPs and their loved ones learn which environments serve them best. 

This fall, Catherine will teach a class through Community Education called HSP: Thriving in the Workplace, focusing on how to create functional and welcoming working environments for the HSP.

*This content was written for Linn-Benton Community College Extended Learning.

Local organization ready to award $35,000 in scholarships

Photo courtesy of creative commons.

Local organization readies to award nearly $35,000 in scholarships to Linn-Benton Community College and Oregon State University students. Deadlines approach in early April.

Each year, Zonta Club of Corvallis awards scholarships to OSU and LBCC students. An international organization that works to empower women through service and advocacy, Zonta has 67 clubs worldwide. 

“We want to support women in pursuing careers that help improve the status of women,” said Debrah Rarick, scholarship committee chair for Zonta of Corvallis. “And to help women pursue careers in non-traditional fields for women, particularly in the STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) fields.” 

The hope, according to Rarick, is that the scholarships for a technical field of study will encourage women to enter the field and break down barriers, and that recipients will then serve as role models for women to also choose fields less populated with women.

“Giving scholarships is one way to show students that we believe in them and want to help them reach their goals,” said Rarick.

To raise the money for the scholarships, Zonta of Corvallis holds fundraisers throughout the year. The main event is the Zonta Auction and Dinner held each November. The event features auction items and the opportunity for attendees to give tax-deductible donations. 

From donations last year, this year at least seven $3,000 scholarships will be given to women pursuing careers in STEM fields. Other scholarships with specific criteria are the Starns, for a single parent attending LBCC, the Grateful Nation, for a woman who has served in the Armed Forces, the Career Technical Education, for an LBCC student in a CTE program, and the Klausman, available for women in business.

At least four $3,000 general scholarships will be given to LBCC or OSU students who had a minimum of a one-year delay in pursuing their college studies, have an interest in pursuing a career that advances the status of women, and have financial need.  

Although Zonta focuses much effort on service to women, men are not excluded from applying for scholarships, as long as their field of study supports the advancement of women.

Full scholarship descriptions, requirements, and deadlines are listed on Zonta of Corvallis’ website.

A Century of Stories to Tell

Trudie Timpone, February 2018, 102-years-old.

I’d never met someone with a century of stories to tell, until a few weeks ago when I met Trudi Timpone. She is 102 years young.

A few days before I met her, the house next door was demolished. I watched one morning as it disappeared. With each swing of the excavator, I thought how unfortunate it was that a house standing since 1901 disappeared in about the same amount of time it took me to make and drink my coffee.

As I watched the excavator slam its boom into the second-story of that old, red farmhouse, I heard the sound of its walls caving in, collapsing under their own weight, crashing down, and swallowing all the stories held between them, forever. 

I heard from neighbors that the house was one of the original homes in the area. It used to be surrounded by a vast orchard, they said. It was built just decades after Philomath was renamed from its first given name by pioneers, Mary’s River Settlement.

I began to think of what the world was like when that old farmhouse was built. In 1901, baseball had not yet held its first World Series game; Henry Ford had not yet founded Ford Motor Company; the first silent film had not yet been made. 

On the day I met Trudi, my experience watching that century-old house disappear was fresh on my mind. Then, I realized, Trudi was almost as old as that house. She was a keeper of stories, just like that house had been. 

Many of Trudi’s stories are from a time I’ve only read about: The Roaring Twenties, The Prohibition, The Great Depression. I was overwhelmed thinking about all she has witnessed in her 102 years. And I was eager to ask her some questions. 

Her answer to one particular question resonated with me for days. I had asked what she thought people and society have today that is for better or worse. Her answer was quick and matter of fact.

“I grew up during The Depression, so a nickel was very important,” she said. “I don’t think I’d want to live that again, but maybe we have too much now. Things are a little too easy for people today.”

After pondering a few days about what she had said, I came to understand how Trudi may think we have it too easy. I began to notice the things that frustrated me throughout my day - wifi being too slow, lines at the store being too long, Facebook making another annoying update - none of which threatened my well-being. 

Trudi, however, remembers a time when people stood in the cold for hours just to get their daily ration of bread in hopes of surviving another day. A time when people, such as herself, walked the eight miles from Wall Street to 44th Avenue in New York because they didn’t have the nickel it cost to ride the subway. 

The thought of this comparison gave me a moment of clarity I won’t soon forget. I’ve come to realize that the hardships that Trudi and many others from her generation faced are foreign to my middle-class, Millennial mindset. I don’t worry about where my next meal comes from, or if our house will be heated this winter. I do, however, worry about whether I have cell reception or if I can charge my laptop. 

Since meeting Trudi and witnessing the demise of the old farmhouse, I’ve spent much time thinking about time. I’ve concluded that time really does change everything. That life is full of fleeting moments that will never happen again. That our tomorrows may bring things we’ve never even dreamed possible. That our todays are like time capsules, made of stories that forever hold the essence of time passed. 

I can’t help but wonder how lucky we would all be to get the chance to collect a century of stories to tell.

102 Years Young: Trudi Timpone Writes Her Life Story

When Trudi Timpone strolled into Linn-Benton Community College’s class entitled “Write Your Life Story,” she had 102 years of experiences to consider for her assignments. Her daughter was the one who enrolled her, and since Timpone stopped driving at the age of 99, her daughter also drops her off at class.

With dangling earrings and the Star of David hanging around her neck, Timpone took her seat at the table and instructor Lori McNulty moved her four-wheeled walking aid with a padded seat out of the aisle. 

“Trudie, I’m going to move your Cadillac,” McNulty said with a smile.

Class began with the ring of a handheld bell. Around the table sat 10 ladies, most with salt and pepper hair. Each had a handwritten nameplate in front of them. Each had come prepared with a story and photos they brought to accompany it. They were ready to share aloud with the class. 

The first volunteer shared a story about her husband, then boyfriend, and how they got together. Another told a story from her cat’s perspective entitled “Tiger’s Thoughts on Travel,” that recounted the struggles of her feline friend during a move. Someone else told the story of a wedding bouquet she made as a floral designer that was a replica of the one Princess Diana held.

Each story read was detailed, using imagery to place the audience in an exact time and place. Some were light-hearted or funny, others were sad or serious. Conversations sparked between stories, and, at times, the room was filled with a cacophony of chatter. With the ring of her bell, McNulty would refocus the class and give constructive feedback before the next person read.

When it was Timpone’s turn, she shared the story of “Sam,” a painter she knew as a child. A family friend much older than her at the time, she recalled sitting in silence in Sam’s studio and watching him work. Her delight in recalling Sam, a character long in her past, shown on her face as she credited him for her lifelong love of painting. 

“I painted just about everything I could - it’s fun,” she said.

She told the class that after decades of it being lost, last year she found a painting she did of Sam. It’s one of her prized possessions, she said, and now hangs in the Corvallis Arts Center. She passed around a photo of her painting of Sam, and tears came to her eyes as she looked at the face of a man who clearly inspired her many years ago. 

In the notebook she held in her lap, Timpone kept other stories she wrote for class. There was the one about the July day in 1943 when she met her husband, Ted, and after a whirlwind courtship how they were married by mid-August. Her favorite song to this day is Begin the Beguine by Cole Porter, a classic from 1938 to which she and Ted danced on the night they met. 

In her collection, there were stories of job hunting during a time when women got limited work. There were stories about her dad and photos of him in a World War I uniform. There was the story of “The Lost Nickel,” a time she walked from Wall Street to 44th Avenue in New York because she was embarrassed she didn’t have the nickel it cost to ride the subway. 

“I grew up during The Depression so a nickel was very important,” she said. “I don’t think I’d want to live that again, but maybe we have too much now. Things are a little too easy for people today.”

She moved from New York to Los Angeles in her 20s. She served meals to soldiers at the Hollywood Canteen during World War II. She joined the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps to help further with the war effort. She remembers President Roosevelt and “all he did for the children.” She’s amazed we’ve had a man on the moon. 

Although she can no longer type, with over a century of stories to tell, her family is helping her write her stories so that her three children, seven grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren may continue to know her after she’s gone. 

“I have a wonderful family,” Timpone gushed. “They are all so wonderful.”

But, despite her 102 years, she has no plans of going anywhere soon. Her mind is sharp, her laugh is contagious, and her wisdom is beyond what many have the chance to gain. She plans to take more classes, maybe a pottery class next time, she said. 

We, at Linn-Benton Community College Extended Learning, are proud to be part of Timpone’s story. Are you ready to start writing yours?

Cheers to the Dream

I have a new book on my nightstand. It arrived a few days ago and happens to be the first book written by my friend of 20 years, Morgen. The publication of her book reminds of the importance of passion and perseverance in chasing your dream.

As kids, we’re often told we should decide what we’re going to be when we grow up. We’re supposed to consider what the job stability for that chosen career will be, if it will provide a sustainable income, and if it will allow a lifestyle we want to live - as if we have any idea what the real world is like as children still living at home.

But, at the same time, many of us already know what we love to do from a young age. Yet, somewhere along the way we get distracted by what we’re told to be focusing on - college, careers, cash flow - and we often lose sight of the very talent we were gifted naturally.

In high school, Morgen and I made a game of writing. The rules were simple: Pick a topic and stick to it. One of us would take a sheet of paper and write our sentence, then fold over the paper so the other couldn’t see it. Then the other person would write her sentence. This could go on for pages. It didn’t matter what we ended up writing, we just loved that we were writing together. It’s a fond memory to this day.

About eight years ago when I was living in California, I got a manuscript in the mail from Morgen. It was a rough draft of a book she had been working on for fun. I was absolutely delighted to read it, and had much time to do so on the bus I rode each morning to work.

On the bus, I would pull out the hefty manuscript from my bag and become immersed in it. Since the bus I rode was specifically for those commuting to work in West L.A., I often sat near the same people. Some of them became interested in what I was reading because it was clearly a raw version of something, hundreds of single-sided, 8.5 by 11 pages stapled together.

As time went on, those curious commuters began to ask me about the book, so I told them about it. After a while, they routinely asked for updates on the characters. I was so proud to have such a talented friend and happy she would trust me with her unfinished work. But, somewhere along the way she got discouraged and put the project aside.

Fast-forward to this January when she made a surprise announcement that her book is published and available on Amazon. I purchased it immediately.

The news of her book becoming a reality brings me back full circle to all the times we spent together writing, imagining, creating. It’s ironic that we are both writers who never really thought we would be. I had my ah-ha moment about five years ago when I realized that in all the things I’ve ever done, no matter how successful I was, writing has stayed with me as my passion. It was then I realized it was time to make it part of my job.

But that wasn’t easy, because of the comments I heard while growing up. When I would tell people I wanted to be a journalist, more often than not their response included a statement of how the profession “doesn’t pay any money” - as if that should matter if you are doing what you love. It took me a long time to get those remarks out of my head, as I imagine the same for Morgen.

Authors, like Morgen, who want to make a living with their words, are told on a regular basis that very few will ever hit the jackpot like Stephen King, John Grisham, or J.K. Rowling. But, in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder how many people told that to Stephen King, John Grisham, and J.K. Rowling.

Passion and perseverance can go a long way for any dream as long as you keep focused on your dream and not the one that others have for you.

So, for this Valentine’s Day, I encourage you to not forget that love begins with you. Love your talent. Love your passion. Love your dream. Love yourself. And even if it takes  20 years, you can be what you want to be if you don’t lose sight of who you were meant to be.

Christmas tree time capsule

In what feels like the land of Christmas trees, I must admit, we have a fake tree. Its lights permanently woven within its branches, the branches made from hidden wire under the faux fir needles, our tree must be straightened and fluffed each year after its 11-month stay in a box. 

It’s a small tree, maybe 4-feet tall, and although it doesn’t have the refreshing scent of a real tree, our tree does everything we need it to do—it tells the story of us. For me, the actual tree is the least important part of the Christmas tree tradition. Each year we bring our fake tree to life with the ornaments we hang from it. 

On a typical Christmas growing up, we dedicated a whole day to picking out and decorating the tree. Once we got it home we would make hot chocolate or pour a glass of my mom’s homemade eggnog. We would turn on Christmas songs, pull out the ornaments, and hang them one by one. It was not a task to be rushed because many of our ornaments had a story and we liked to reminisce about those moments together.

Now that I’m an adult, my parents have passed down some of the ornaments I’ve looked at for much of my life. I continue to add new ones as my story evolves, but each year I’m reminded of decades passed as I unwrap them. Like a time capsule, ornament by ornament our tree is a place for the past and present to collide, history dangling from its branches.

When my parents were married, the symbol of their union was a moon and star. In our family home, there were several places that symbol could be found, including ornaments on our Christmas tree. Each year I hang one such ornament, a half moon with a star dangling from its corner in honor of my parents.

A gold metal ornament in the shape of a little girl with wings and a halo bares the engraving, “Allison 1982.” The ornament was given to me on my first Christmas. As a small child, I hung it from my own mini tree that sat on a bookshelf in my bedroom. As I have grown, it has come with me to all the homes I’ve lived, all the trees I’ve had, and will hopefully continue to do so.

There are a series of ornaments that represent the East Coast, where most my family still lives. There’s a painted blue crab shell symbolizing the crab feasts my family always has when we come visit. A ball ornament that was hand-painted by my cousin two decades ago has what looks like the Baltimore skyline—the area much of my family grew up.

Other ornaments were made by me, and my parents insisted on saving them. There’s the origami star I made in 4-H fiber arts class, dipped in wax to preserve its shape and sprinkled with sparkles to give it some bling. In kindergarten, I made an ornament using the lid of a can. With a string pulled through a hole to hang it, my school picture is glued to the front; two pigtails on the side of my head and wearing a plaid jumper my grandmother made. 

Then there’s the bungee jumping Santa. Santa is in a pose as if skydiving and attached to a slinky-ish wire that allows it to bounce up and down when pulled. Around since my childhood, two years ago we hung it from a lamp in our living room and our young nephew pulled too hard, sending Santa crashing down on the wood floor, breaking into a half dozen pieces. Last year, we were gifted back Santa, whose pieces had been picked up after the accident and glued back together with expert precision. With barely-there “scars” from where he had been broken, he is now whole again with new stories to tell.

But the ornament that often gives me the biggest smile is one closest to my heart. Although its construction was simple, its nostalgia runs deep. On a square piece of paper in which a young me drew two holly leaves, centered in between them is a red footprint. Just below her footprint is a picture of my beloved Elsa, a black and white fur ball with an arrow shape running up her nose. As my first best friend and companion for 17 years, that ornament is always front and center on the tree.

This year, as our tree is lit up once again and embellished with all these memories and more, I stare at the stories that hang from it. I think of all the trees the ornaments have hung from, all the homes they have been in, all the people who have touched them. With this thought, I realize it’s not the tree that makes it feel like Christmas, it’s the ornaments that adorn it.

Praying mantis: hunters of hummingbirds

I’ve been protective around our hummingbird feeder since I’ve learned there’s an unlikely predator on the prowl.

The feeder hangs outside our dining room window and is a constant waterhole for our hummers. We spend much time watching them, and sometimes, they rest on the feeder and watch us in return. We welcome them in our yard’s mini-ecosystem because, after all, they are pollinators.

My protectiveness began a few weeks ago after we saw a praying mantis in our yard. We were excited because we had not seen one there before and because they are such unique creatures. To think the mantis is a relative of the cockroach and termite, creatures humans often detest, is surprising. But because the mantis has such a regal poise and sophistication, we often underestimate their dominance in the food chain. They are predators.

A praying mantis patiently waits and ambushes its prey. While they appear peaceful, often stoic in a “praying position,” they have spikes on their legs for snaring and are equipped with large mandibles made for munching. With the ability to camouflage itself and a head that turns 180 degrees, they are superior hunters.

As in any ecosystem, both predator and prey are needed for a healthy balance. That’s why it’s a good sign when a praying mantis is in your yard, and for that reason, I was excited when we saw one on our porch, not far from our hummingbird feeder.

While much of the mantis diet includes insects such as grasshoppers, crickets, and flies, I found out they also have an interest in lizards, frogs, and small birds — such as hummingbirds.

I came to find this out when a friend posted on Facebook a picture of a praying mantis in their yard. One comment on the photo said they eat hummingbirds. Someone replied to that comment and said they had seen this happen. But I was skeptical, having never heard of such a thing.

I began my research of more “qualified” sources. I read articles published by National Geographic, Newsweek, The New York Times, and even The Bend Bulletin. Those articles quoted experts and scientists on the matter.

I also found YouTube videos that caught the event as it happened. Most of the videos showed the attacks occurring on a hummingbird feeder. I was shocked to watch one. And one was enough. I thought about the mantis we saw just a few feet from our feeder and realized what it may have been up to.

As it turns out, a praying mantis may see a hummingbird feeder as a honey hole. It positions itself in stealth and silence until an unsuspecting hummer comes to feed. It strikes at a speed faster than the blink of an eye and snatches the hummingbird, often stabbing its leg through the bird’s skull. The mantis then uses its strong mandibles to bite through the skull and eat the nutrient-rich brain.

Watching that video reminded me of when I was on a safari in Tanzania years ago. One day, as we drove on two ruts in the middle of the Serengeti, we were stopped by a lioness and her two cubs out for a hunt on a group of gazelles. The lions were using our “road” for their stalking zone.

Since drivers can’t leave the road, we were stopped indefinitely as the lions went about their business. When the cubs made a break towards the herd, after a short and slightly sloppy chase, the gazelles bounced away to safety. It was a rare gift we were given to see such an incredible event.

I was relieved to not witness them get captured, but I soon realized how selfish that was. The family of lions may have gone without food that day. That could have been the meal they needed to sustain the next few days. For them to thrive something else had to die. Like the gazelles, hummingbirds are also part of the food chain and satisfy the hunger of a predator.

I know every species must eat to survive. But I feel so protective of the hummers that fly above me without fear and chirp at me when their feeder is empty. Since learning about the praying mantis and its brain-sucking tendencies, I’ve been watching our feeder closely. I don’t think I could kill the mantis, but I don’t want to see the mantis kill a hummingbird. I do know, however, I want my feeder to be a mantis-free-zone.

Philomath High School names 2017-18 homecoming queen

Philomath High School named the new homecoming queen during halftime at Friday night’s Warrior football game.

Five homecoming princesses walked in front spectators at the stadium anticipating the results of who the student body voted as their 2017-18 homecoming queen. Each princess wore a gown and crown. Just after 8 p.m. on Oct. 6, Sarah Buddingh, senior, was announced as queen.

“I feel very honored,” Buddingh said. “It’s a very special experience.”

Princesses were selected by their peers during two rounds of voting. First round voting named nominees within each class. The top five from each class and six from the senior class were then voted on again. High votes from each class become nominees for queen.

When asked why she thought she had won, Buddingh’s best friend, Hailey Davis, who stood next to Buddingh after her win, quickly answered.

“Because everybody loves her,” said Davis. “And she’s also the student body president so everybody knows her.”

Buddingh added that her win made her proud because her mom, Connie Buddingh, was also the senior homecoming queen when she attended PHS.

Another princess, Ashlynn Wulk, sophomore, also shared the title of homecoming princess with her mom, Shannon Smith.

“My mom was very proud because she was a princess in high school,” said Wulk. “And my dad was surprised because I’m so quiet.”

Wulk believed she was nominated because of her involvement with basketball and the number of friends she has on the team. She plays wing position.

Upon hearing Buddingh named as queen, Wulk and the other princesses—freshman Danielle Beck, junior Jamie Chambers, and senior Mariam Coskey—gracefully congratulated Buddingh.

Buddingh has been on the student government cabinet the past two years but this is her first as president. Because of her duties on the cabinet, she was also involved in organizing homecoming week festivities which began on Monday, Oct. 2.

The week included theme days such as Mega Action Monday, Cartoons Tuesday, Western Wednesday, and The Classics on Thursday. Friday was Fear the Tribe day, a time for Warriors to get pumped up for the evening’s football game against North Marion. Friday morning also included the homecoming parade.

On Wednesday, the underclassmen claimed victory over the upperclassmen during the Powder Puff football game. A bonfire for students and their families followed the game on Wednesday evening.

Saturday night ended the week’s festivities with the semi-formal homecoming dance.

Overall, Buddingh was happy with the turnout and participation of homecoming week.

“Involvement has been incredible with all the activities planned,” she said. “I’ve been really impressed with the student body and cabinet.”

Buddingh plans to attend Eastern Oregon University after graduation. She wants to study anthropology and sociology in hopes to become a youth counselor. She will return to next year’s homecoming game to crown the new queen.