News
Page 10
Street Roots • May 13-19, 2016
Elizabeth
Woody
Oregon's new poet
laureate talks about
family, living with
poverty and her Native
American culture that
shapes her view of life
BY SUZANNE ZALOKAR
STAFF WRITER
k) meet Elizabeth Wbody is to feel the
T
full breadth of nature embodied in a
woman. She truly understands the
human condition.
And she is an endless well of experience,
knowledge and fascinating stories. This made
her a natural choice to become Poet Laureate
of Oregon, an honor she received in March
from Gov. Kate Brown. She is the first Native
American to hold that position.
Woody is a member of the Confederated
Tribes of Warm Springs in Oregon. She was
born Todich’nnii (Bitter Water clan) in
Ganado, Ariz. Her family has connections to
the Milee-thlama (People of the Hot Springs)
and Wyampum peoples (People of the Echo
of Water Upon Rocks), and the middle
Columbia River Chinook peoples, Wishram,
Wasco, Watlala.
Woody and her ancestry is woven into
many communities across Portland, the state
of Oregon and throughout the Pacific Rim.
Woody has collected a lifetime of appreciation
for the natural world, artistic creation and
service across her communities.
I asked her to comment on a poem she
wrote in the 1980s titled “Home and the
Homeless.”
Elizabeth Woody: I wrote that during a
very down economic time. When people
reflect back now, Reaganomics didn’t bring
back the prosperity that was promised. When
I returned from the Institute of American
Indian Arts in Santa Fe, I was looking for a
job, for work and there just were no jobs.
People ask me, “What kind of support did
you receive when you were writing your first
book of poetry that received the American
Book Award?” I say I basically wrote that
book when I was impoverished and I was in a
single room occupancy and eating out of the
soup kitchen. I had food stamps and a
meager income that came to me from my
tribe, and I used that to buy my necessities. I
was applying for school, bridging my way to
better times.
I became very conscious of the way a set
of circumstances can take you from what I
considered my height as I was part of this
elite school, The Institute of American Indian
Arts.
When I wrote that poem, I was living in a
Victorian four-plex in central Southeast
Portland at the base of Ladd’s Addition.
There was a warehouse district from there
to the river and a lot of people lived there at
PHOTO BY JOYCE BREKKE FOR THE BOOK, "PIECES OF PORTLAND: AN INSIDE LOOK AT AMERICA'S WEIRDEST CITY" BY MARIE DEATHERAGE AND JOYCE BREKKE.
PIECESOFPORTLAND.COM .
that time. I think there still are some camps
there.
There were a lot of people traveling
through and I saw a lot of people (without)
means. There was a gentleman who rode his
bike. He had a long grey beard and he called
me sister.
I felt like when I closed the gate to my
apartment, I left that environment where
people were interacting with me who didn’t
have a place to live. But I did. I could go in
and shut the door and nobody would bother
me. But they were constantly in this
environment where they were continually
touched and hollered at by people.
There was no way that I could describe
the difference between us except that I had a
home that had these beautiful roses in the
garden and had the trees and had things that
I valued that they couldn’t enjoy.
Suzanne Zalokar: The role of poet
laureate, in Oregon, was first bestowed in 1923
and then the position was left vacant for
decades. In 2006, you were a part of the process
of revamping the position with the governor at
the time, Gov. Ted Kulongoski, who in 2006
named Lawson Fusao Inada as the state’s poet
laureate. A decade later you were nominated.
What is your vision for the time that you are
serving in this role?
E.W.: The lady who nominated me was so
kind and when she explained to me why she
wanted to nominate me, I figured it would be
disrespectful to tell her no.
I’ve applied for a lot of things, fellowships.
I’ve never received any of it Even the
Oregon Book Awards, when I was a finalist, I
didn’t expect to win. (The award of poet
laureate) comes at a time when I had no idea
that I had this kind of regard as a poet
S.Z.: What a beautiful gift, to be valued.
E.W.: Yes. I’m at a different time in my life,
now. I’m in my 50s and I feel like I am
getting back to what I genuinely am: an artist
and a writer.
There was so much work to do and when I
was younger, I was really focused on getting
my second and third books out. Then I was
just working because I wanted to build up
these programs that I was involved in.
I was a program officer at Meyer
Memorial Trust, so I spent some time in
communities that I didn’t know that I would
be in. I was able to see some amazing people
doing remarkable things at a really hard time.
We have some very important communities
Home and the Homeless
by Elizabeth Woody
The buildings are worn.
The trees are strong and ancient.
They bend against the grid of electric lines.
The windows are broken
by the homeless and the cold past.
I am home on the yard
that spreads mint, pales the Victorian roses,
takes into it the ravaged lilac tree.
The black bulk of plastic lies about
stopping unwanted weeds for the Landlord.
Tattered, the cedar tree is chipped to dry heaps of recklessness.
The unwanted spreads by the power of neglect
The wear of traffic says that we are out of time,
must hurry.
Age, the creak in the handmade screen door fades behind itself.
in our state and our world.
I’m thinking of Ontario, Ore. They are
closer to Idaho (geographically and
culturally) than they are to the rest of
Oregon.
I’m thinking of Coos Bay and Medford and
these places that are more geographically
tied to Northern California.
We’re in this state, but our communities
go beyond the state. They go to the ocean, a
very important part of our existence here in
Oregon.
S.Z.: Pablo Neruda’s remains were returned
to his family recently, and earlier Prince passed
away. Both artists leave behind a remarkable
legacy of their life’s work and service. What
legacy do you want to leave one day?
E.W.: Just a minute. (Becoming
emotional). I’m sure you know this, but Pablo
Neruda lived in Portland because of his
politics.
It just occurred to me: Pablo Neruda stood
up for his beliefs. They say his demise was by
being poisoned by the Junta. Poets have lived
and died because of their belief system.
I’m intuitively strong, meaning that any
time that I have been asked to contribute or
be part of something, I give it my all.
Right now, I have the wind basically
knocked out of my sails because my mother
passed away (in October). My mother was an
exceptional person.
S.Z.: Tell me about her.
E.W.: One of the things that came up to
me was her childhood with my grandmother
who was also an exceptional person.
My mom told me the story about how she
used to go out on the land and spend her day
out there. She would come back and my
grandmother would shake her down and
empty her pockets - pull out a snake, pull
out a frog and a lizard or something.
(My grandmother) would say, “I want you
to go and take those back because they have
a family. And what would happen if somebody
picked you up and took you away from us?
We would be really sad.” And my mother
started taking the critters back. Eventually
she got to the point where she would just
(Reprinted by permission of University of Arizona Press)
See WOODY, page 11