It is in giving that we receive

I am starting to wake up to the fact that managing social media — particularly my personal feeds, which are not curated like my art business feeds — is an activity that comes under the heading of “socializing”. That is, navigating a social space. Which is to say: it is an extroverted activity.

That was not my initial user experience of the internet way back in the 2000’s when we were all just blogging into the void. That felt introverted. And I have been, without realizing it, mentally categorizing surfing the web as an introverted activity — EVEN THOUGH I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that reading things online put me into a “reactive” mode, not a “receptive” one.

I have been trying to keep a closer watch on myself as I surf the web, and that has become particularly true as the American public generally loses its mind over the Syrian refugee crisis. There is a great deal of inelegant behavior on both sides of the issue on my feed. (Because truthfully I don’t know what saddens me more these days: the blind hatred of “refugees”, or the eagerness with which my so-called progressive friends express hatred of the people who have this stance, rather than focus on dialogue and perhaps education.)

One thing I saw during an infrequent visit struck me. A friend-of-a-friend had posted something about her work at a local refugee resettlement office. To paraphrase what she said: she does not have time to educate people, nor discuss politics, nor point people to helpful info-graphics. She is too swamped and too overwhelmed {and, one gathered, too crushed and irritated} by the amount of hateful threats their office has received since the bombing in Paris. (Threats that include bombings and slitting employee’s throats).

“I don’t have time for this”, she said. “I don’t have time to deprogram you. All I can say is what I have said before: go volunteer at your local refuge resettlement office.”

I did some digging. ‘Refugee resettlement’ is one of those jobs that I’d never really thought about, but one that I was deeply moved to discover. Of course there are people who help on this side of that journey. There has to be.

Portland has a reputation for being the whitest city on the west coast, so I was mildly surprised to find a helpful list of programs right on the city’s website

Each of these programs linked from that list has, at the very least, a wish list of items most needed — usually toiletries and personal care related, but some with very specific needs like certain mattress sizes. These lists should loom large in all of our Christmas giving, I think. 

I stuck with my roots and emailed the coordinator for the Catholic Charities program. I knew they were busy, and did not expect a prompt reply. Within almost 24 hours however I received a beautiful email from the woman, with details outlining various positions available but also the smaller ways people can just plug in, which is likely how I will have to operate, at least at the beginning. 

The email had an application attached, and also had a fascinating sample of upcoming arrivals, as well as the current new postings on a sort of help-needed bulletin board. 

“This is by no means exhaustive” she said. “It’s just today’s update. I’ll be writing up a new update later today.”

It was something like 20 people, all with specific situations and needs. This person with some mobility issues that gets lonely when her son is at work and would benefit from some companionship. That person who wants to enroll in community college and just needs help going through that process. A recently resettled family that needs help navigating the bus system and getting the hang of the grocery store. Several people just needed friends, one in particular who lives with extended family sits at home fretting about things, and needs someone to “engage in positive activities” with.

That list was incredibly powerful for me. It was like seeing cells under a microscope for the first time. Or, in this case, putting demographics and very specific stories to a singular mass that we call “refugees”. Most of the people on the list I saw live in the same quadrant I do. Which is to say: most of these people are my neighbors. And each of them need something fairly human and basic, and I look forward to doing my share of of that help once I have gone through orientation.

It doesn’t solve the refugee crisis, but it is one very direct thing I can do to help. 

One person can’t fix it all. But if each person does whatever they can, well, that’s something.

And I’d rather do something than nothing.

 

With apologies to November

Usually this is the time of year where I place my feet firmly in the Thanksgiving / autumnal camp and make an argument for taking things one month at a time, to enjoy what we have now and not rush off to the GIMME GIMME GIMME season. (That’s really easy to do here in Oregon, because it is not going to even THINK about looking like ‘winter’ for at least another five weeks.)

But a funny thing happened on the way to November. After a rough day I was seized by a compulsion to make these little greeting cards. I had some folks to write to, and I am always of the opinion that non-bill related mail is as thrilling as it is rare (alas) and so fun mail should be made as fun as possible. So I started noodling around and made these.

I am not a stranger to celebrating the seasons with little homemade creations. In fact I do a version of it every year, I think. That paper turkey still makes an appearance every year, and why I have not yet made little skeletons and bats for Halloween is anyone’s guess. 

Anyway. These were incredibly fun to make, and they looked GREAT in envelopes. I started getting more ideas. I started roughing out sketches and thinking of maybe pimping these to a proper card outlet once I get enough ideas. 

To add to the excitement, people on my personal Facebook page started going bananas when they saw these. They wanted to know how to buy them, and whether or not I’d be making Christmas cards. Well? It had crossed my mind. But to offer the cards that were just sitting on my desk would mean…selling a handmade, original thing, which would put the price at something like $200 – $450 — which is to say, priced as a piece of ART, not a thing you can scribble on and send to your friends. LAME.

So the question became: how can I do it? Is this sort of thing viable for a one-woman outfit like Simply Kumquat?

Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I did eventually find a print shop that would be able to PRINT and CUT OUT the cards, as cards, which was something like a miracle. (Such places exist! I had no idea!). I scrambled around to get quotes, so that I could work out both: 

1.) if I could price them accessibly, and,

2.) if I would be able to order them at all.

Because the truth is: the upfront cost is incredibly high on these, particularly for a person who cleans houses for her day job. The first batch will cost roughly 85% of my monthly income, and for those playing the home game, 96% of my monthly income goes to obligatory spending such as rent and bills. I really do want to offer these cards though because they’re cool and I they’re the sort of thing I would buy off the rack if I saw anything like them in the shops. And I DON’T see anything like them in the shops, at least not where I’ve been nosing around.

Which is all to say: this is the test-run. The listings are live. Go order some and see if I’m not right. I have little flimsy fakers hanging around while I wait for the real proofs to arrive from my print shop, and even those are filing my heart with so much joy. 

If they sell, awesome! I can make more designs in spring. If they don’t, well, on to the next idea.