Shut Up and Listen!
■s
A Journal of Thoughts, Issues and Experiences
I8S
EMPIRE OF THE
TREES
downtown. And, as always, the i
media was there. The service
September 10,1991, had been
lasted two full hours and was
just like every other day that week.
boring as hell.
I had gone to school. I had come
For starters,myuncledidn’t I
home, fixed a snack, and I was
know what he was talking about. I
listening to the radio. Then the tele­
Then everybody who wanted to I
phone rang. It was my mother. She
came up and said how they felt
said that she loved me and she had
about Heather. A lot of people
something very important to say to
had written poems and songs,
me. She didn’t want me hanging
and others just got up to the
around downtown anymore, and no
podium and babbled on like idiots.
more older guys either. At this point
After all that, my friend Brandi
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\XXXXXXXXXXXX\XXXXXXXXX\XXXXXX\XX\XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXs
sang four sad and depressing
songs about letting go and get­
ting on with life. Then the pall­
bearers opened the casket, could
Rich in ideas and analysis, papers and articles written by the students and staff
not believe that they were having
of Clackamas Community College usually do not get noticed by the larger college
an open casket funeral. At least
not what after my grandmother
community. Yet much of this work is clever, challenging and perceptive.
told me.(In my grandmother’s
Shut Up and Listen is a small collection of student and staff writing on a
truly eloquent way she told me
variety of subjects. The work'has only two things in common: It was submitted
Heather was ‘slashed ear to ear’.
Ah, spoken like a true poet.) Be­
to Joe Uris in the Social Science department in response to an invitation posted in
sides, it was my first funeral, and
the English and other departments. And, whether long or short, from faculty or
I wasn’t sure I wanted to see an
student, it is fun to read. So take the time to look the work over. While most was
actual dead body.
Curiosity got the best of me,
not designed for formal publication, all of these articles are the work of people
and I looked. Heather seemed
who reason well and are not afraid of ideas.
unnatural, bloated waxy, and sick.
- Joe Uris
My other cousin that flew out
from North Carolina, said I’d feel
better if I touched her. I touched
her, but I didn’t feel any better.
She was so cold that it surprised
shadows everywhere, except small I was trying to figure out what I had
the news.
me. (And why wouldn’t she be?
penetrating rays of sunlight that done wrong and what the punish­
I turned on the television to find
Heather was dead. I had to keep
carved a deep wound in this uncon­ ment would entail. But my mom
Diane on Channel 2 sobbing about
telling myself that...she was
cerned realm.
wasn’t finished.” Jessica, last night
Heather. More news stories about dead.)
Areas like the one I was standing I heard that an unidentified 16 year
locating Franklin Dashel, Heather’s
in do not make up the majority of old girl was murdered and that the
Finally, the funeral ended,
boyfriend and suspect in her murder.
jungles; it’s just that this area had police were looking for her boyfriend
and our immediate family went to
Photographs of the murder site were
such a thick canopy that the ground as a suspect in the case. This morn­
Diane’s house. We wanted to
splashed all over the T.V. screen. It
watch T. V. to see what particular
was entombed in perpetual darkness ing your grandma called me up and
was so surrealistic. The news sto­
and heat. I later had the opportunity told me that girl was Heather.” ”So
parts of our lives they were going
to climb to the palace roof of what I Heather’s dead?” It obviously was ries were just like all the other news to send over the air waves. My
stores about all the other girls who
consider tobe the empire of nature, a not sinking in. Heather is my second
cousin, my sister, and I showed
have
been killed at a young age.
true kingdom of trees.
up on the 11:00 news. Incredible!
cousin, that is, she’s the daughter of
Except, instead of actors from
While struggling through the en­ my mother’s first cousin, or even
About a week later my grandpar­
a different story, they were actors
tangled fortress roof, I had never seen simpler, she’s the granddaughter of
ents insisting that we go, dragged
from my story .The next morning, the us to the site where Heather was
so much intensity of color, flowers and my grandmother’s brother. The point
story was on the front page of the
leaves in brilliant blues, yellows and is, we were related. But, I haven’t
killed on Sandy Boulevard. It was
newspaper. A mug shot of Dashel
reds. My first glimpse of wildlife known her all my life.About three
in the alley next to the City Center
was accompanied by a picture of
came here also, birds the same colors years ago Diane, my mother’s
Motel. The stain from her blood
Heather (one my grandma had taken, was still visible on the cement.
as the flowers, insects up to the size cousin, and her three kids, Heather,
and if the newspaper had shown the The stain was the same color that
of my hand scurrying about. When I Justin, and Heidi, moved to Oregon
whole picture, I would have been in
broke through the top, I found a solid from Denver Colorado. Diane moved
fallen leaves make when left on
it.).
carpet of rolling green fabric dotted to escape a messy divorce, and to get
the sidewalk.
The following morning on the
Now she’s gone, cremated,
with sunshine reflecting off leaves, to know her real mother better.
front page of the paper, the story
and flowers that had found homes so
Diane’s mother ended up ignor­ continued with Dashel being appre­ in a wooden box on top of a piano.
far above the ground. I also saw the ing her, so my family took them in.
She’s not coming back, ever. I’d
hended in Vancouver. More news
silhouette of exotic birds through the Consequently, I got to know Heather
like to say that she’ll live on in the
stories appeared on television that
hearts of people forever, but
escaping mist that will return as rain really well, in fact we were the best
night. More sobbing from Diane. those people will eventually die,
another day .The first few hours of my of friends the first year she was in
More pieces of the story of my life
endeavors in the tropical rain forest Oregon. Heather was a very pretty,
too. The most that can be said is
being broadcast through the media.
held incredibly strong feelings that robust girl, but very promiscuous
that she provides some good fod­
And all I could think of was how
will stay with me always.
der for an English paper.
and stupid. She was by my defini­
weird it was, how unequivocally bi­
Even though the remaining days tion, white trash. In looking back,
Heather’s death was an impor­
were filled with danger as well as it’s hard for me to see why I every­ zarre it all was. September 13,1991, tant act in the story of my life. It’s
was not just like any other day. It
picturesque surprises, the aura I felt one liked her. Heather hated being
not so important because
was Friday the 13th, my mother’s
radiating from the jungle when I.first in Oregon. In the time she was here
Heather, that particular person,
36th birthday, and he day of
entered ten paces off the road was she was kicked out of two private
died but because of the whole
Heather’s funeral.
idea of death. She was the first
inspiring. During late night campfires schools and dropped out of another.
The service was held at
person I knew who died, and it
one thing kept coming up how could She eventually ran away and started
Beaverton Seventh Day Adventist
was magnified by the fact that
anyone destroy such a place? My living on the streets of Portland. She
church. My Uncle Vinnie, who thinks
she was young and that she was
companions and I could find no expla­ got into a lot of drugs, and fell in with
God talks to him,didtheeulogy. And brutally murdered. For me,
nation. All of us knew we were noth­ a real nasty crowd. She was hanging
tons of people attended. Family and
Heather’s death was the final
ing but visitors; we respected and out with this real ratty guy. I, unlike
friends that flew in from Colorado,
break from innocence into reality,
honored that by leaving the rainforest most of my family, had a more real­
bus loads of kids from all the schools
as unspoiled as it was before our istic perception of what was going
from childhood to adulthood.
Heather had attended, and a large
intrusion. Someday, I might have a on, mostly because I saw her a lot in
By Jessica Ashard
crowd of kids she had hung out with
son and I pray he too will have the
MAKING WAY
The first twenty minutes
after leaving Bogota, Columbia
our tour bus was full of high
spirited chatter. The twelve of us
never really expected what we
were about to see. Thirty min­
utes into our trip everyone started
to slow their conversations as
they started looking out the win­
dows of the old, faded tour bus.
Everyone started retreating back
into their own thoughts. As si­
lence shadowed the bus’s hu­
man cargo, a feeling of anticipa­
tion and vigilance filled our sil­
very walls.
The change in attitude was
brought on by the increasing
amount of life surrounding us as
our encumbered vehicle tres­
passed seemingly unconquerable
terrain. It was quite sudden, but
there we were surrounded by
walls of green that reached at
least a hundred feet in the sky.
Not straight up, but trying to
i reach inward and make a union
far above our heads, almost to
enclose the small patch of barren
jungle floor.
As our driver pulled over,
nearly blocking the entire road,
our guide informed us that this
was where we were going to
start our three night, and four day
stay in the jungles of South
||| America. As we filed off with our
H supplies, we watched our one
M wayhomedisappearasitrounded ■
|| the next growth entangled cor-
H ner. The same look occupied
H everyone’s face as our journey
||l began; it seemed to say, “We’re
|| not in Kansas anymore."
H
To anyone that has seen the
H movie “Star Wars,” at that
||| moment it was conceivable to
III believe in The Force. The jungle
||| seemed tohave a life of its own
|| aside from all its residents that
|| are fighting for their own sur-
H vival. From my first steps on the
||| road that was slowly but surely
being reclaimed by the immen-
sity of life, I could not believe
|| humans and their technology
M were trying to destroy land that
H holds so much and takes up so
|| little space.
H
Standing on the narrow
H wedge of civilization gouged out
|| of the jungle’s floor, I wondered
M how we could possibly drive our
|| way any distance through such
M dense ground cover. I was soon
|| to learn that once you cut through
H the outer growth it would be
| pretty easy traveling from there,
j
Breaking through the under­
ll brush that grows incredibly thick
H anywhere sunlight can reach, I
||| emerged on what appeared to be
||| a different world. A world ob-
H scured by hot vaporous clouds of
H steam trapped by the dense tropi-
H cal canopy that hung ominously
|| far about my head. There was an
H awesome wall of life directly
|| behind me now, but ahead of me,
M coupled with the echoing sounds chance to see the empire of the tree.
By Michael E. Meyer
||| of animals unseen, and descend­
ing water that had pooled in the
I
that element. But, as time went on,
Ibegan not to care, I had my own life.
Besides, I didn’t like her that much
anymore. She couldn’t be trusted.
Shewas always lying. So, when my
mom told me that Heather had been
killed, I wasn’t exactly sad. All I
could think about was that she wasn’t
going tobe around anymore, and it
was difficult for me to grasp that
concept. My mom eventually got off
the phone, but she told me to watch
Why Shut Up and Listen?
i
Creator and Adviser Joe Uris
Editor Glen K. Laubach
1992-93
Design Editor Robert A. Hibberd