A6 THE SPOKESMAN • TUESDAY, AUGUST 23, 2022
Livestock
Continued from A1
How do the neighbors feel about
it? It’s a mixed bag, city officials say.
Mostly it’s a non-issue, but there are the
occasional noisy rooster complaints, as
well as some about flies and odors. City
livestock generate a few calls each year
to code enforcers.
HOLD YOUR HORSES
Can you ride your horse through
Redmond? Technically, yes. There’s
nothing in municipal code that says
you can’t.
Is it a good idea? Depends on who
you ask.
Many equestrians think mixing
horses and cars is dangerous. Horses
are not allowed on sidewalks, nor are
they allowed in city parks. That means
horse-and-rider must traverse in lanes
of traffic down Redmond’s avenues and
streets.
RAISING STOCK
Rory Callahan has a herd of five
miniature cattle within Redmond city
limits. “Miniature” seems contradictory
as they are still up to four-feet tall at
the hip and weigh roughly 700 pounds.
Two are milkers and three are for beef.
Callahan is a retired aeronautical en-
gineer with no history of farming. He
was lured to raising cattle on his five
acres after hearing from a friend in
Idaho who did something similar and
enjoyed the experience.
“It’s just not the practicality of food
security,” said Callahan. “It’s the con-
nection to the land and a life away from
technology, being hooked on some dig-
ital screen all day.”
Callahan said that nature was calling
him and his wife, Faye, to show their
grandchildren that life is more than
video games. When the grandchildren
ABOVE: A small herd of cattle at Highland and 38th Avenue one of dozens within Red-
mond city limits. RIGHT: Karlie and Melody Warden cuddle goats in their backyard pen.
Photos by Bill Barlett
— who are 11, 7 and 4 — visit from
San Francisco they are instantly trans-
ported into the Callahan’s world.
“They’ve all taken a huge interest
and two now say they want to be (vet-
erinarians),” Faye beamed.
Les and Vicki Nolan raise chickens
within blocks of Dry Canyon. They
have six hens, three Golden Comets
and three Rhode Island Reds. Their an-
nual production is about 250 eggs per
hen each year.
“With eggs at the store up almost
40% in price in less than a year, neigh-
bors and passersby knock at our door
asking to be put on the waiting list,”
said Vicki.
The Nolans and their extended fam-
ily use about half the eggs themselves.
They sell the remainder for $4.50 a
dozen, more than what grocers charge.
Vicki said buyers will pay more for
their fresh eggs and prefer the yoke
color and taste.
Some Redmond livestock are more
pets than producers however.
Melody Warden, 9, and her sister,
Karlie, 7, have four dwarf goats in their
backyard that’s less than a mile from
downtown. The animals are treated
like part of the family and their par-
ents admit to it being somewhat of a
fad, recalling their days when friends
or neighbors had Vietnamese pot-bel-
lied pigs.
█
Reporter: ttrainor@redmondspokesman.com
Kellstrom
“
Continued from A1
“Grief needs to move. It needs
to move from the inside of you
to the outside. It needs to have
a voice. It needs to be heard.”
She “brought a little magic
into everything she touched,”
the bereavement department
wrote in a release about Kell-
strom’s retirement.
Hospice of Redmond exec-
utive director Jane McGuire
said that Kellstrom “had a very
peaceful presence about her, so
it was easy for people to talk to
her.”
GIVING BACK GUIDANCE
Kellstrom started volunteer-
ing with the Hospice of Red-
mond in 2004.
“It just felt like the right thing
for me and the right timing for
me,” Kellstrom said. Kellstrom
had lost a number of her own
family members early in her life,
and she wanted to give back to
the people who had helped her
through her own grief.
“I felt a calling to try to help
as many people through it as I
could,” she said.
McGuire said Kellstrom has
shown up and supported her
personally throughout her own
grieving process — on top of
Kellstrom being a positive per-
son to have as a coworker.
“She was a lot of fun to work
with,” McGuire said. “I think
something that is important
when you’re working with an
environment that can be heavy,
as far as a lot of emotions, it’s
important to have a great sense
of humor. And she certainly
does have one. She was a char-
acter.”
As she got more involved,
Kellstrom found herself drawn
to the hospice’s bereavement
department, which provides
various support services. The
organization follows the fami-
lies of its former patients for 13
months after the patients’ pass-
ing and offers short-term sup-
port for anyone in Central Or-
egon who is struggling with the
loss of a loved one.
Kellstrom organized events
like the hospice’s grief in school
programs, grief support groups,
the hospice’s annual Teddy Bear
Tea fundraiser, an annual Light
Up a Life memorial service and
Camp Sunrise.
Rachman said Kellstrom has
been an invaluable presence.
Kellstrom was detail-oriented,
deeply passionate about serving
people in Central Oregon and
committed to the work she did
with Camp Sunrise, Rachman
said.
CAMP SUNRISE
Kellstrom’s bereavement ex-
perience made her an impact-
ful director for the children at
Camp Sunrise, McGuire said.
The program was born out of
the idea that children are often
— Diane Kellstrom, retiring bereavement coordinator, Hospice of
Redmond
File photo by Kat Rachman
Diane Kellstrom was the director of Camp Sunrise for many years.
“the forgotten grievers” when
someone in a family dies, said
Kellstrom, who became the
camp’s director in 2005. “They
didn’t have a voice, she said.
“They didn’t have a place to go
like adults did where they could
find that kind of support.”
Grief for younger people of-
ten shows up more in behavior
than in talking, Kellstrom said.
So Camp Sunrise aims to help
children express themselves
through things like play ther-
apy, talk therapy and movement
therapy.
“We’ve seen it be transforma-
tional for them,” McGuire said.
“Kids that have come to camp,
being so scared to participate
in something that carries such
an emotional weight for them,
leave feeling so much lighter
and happier and able to have the
tools that they need to process
the grief as they move forward.”
Kellstrom said she has seen
children arrive at Camp Sunrise
less than enthusiastic about be-
ing there. But once they’re there,
she said, they realize they’re less
alone in the world — that they
have peers who are experienc-
ing the same grief that they are.
“The help that they give to
each other is just as important
as the help that professionals
give to them,” Kellstrom said.
And when they leave, camp-
ers will tell Kellstrom that they
wish they had another weekend
or another couple weeks. Some
will even come back as junior
counselors to help the younger
children — or, like the camper
who called Kellstrom that one
day, go into hospice work them-
selves.
GUIDANCE THROUGH GRIEF
Kellstrom said her years in
bereavement work have taught
her a lot about the strength of
the human spirit. Her time with
the Hospice of Redmond has
made her a better person based
on those lessons, she said.
“Their stories, their heart-
ache, their pain helped build
me up to help the next person,”
Kellstrom said, “because I knew
that there was hope for each and
every one of them.”
Everyone reacts to loss dif-
ferently, Kellstrom said. It’s im-
portant to avoid placing expec-
tations on what they need or to
go into supporting a grieving
person with an intention to fix
them. She said the most im-
portant thing is being there for
someone when they’re grieving
and assuring them that they can
and will recover.
“There’s nothing magical
about this work,” Kellstrom said.
“There’s no words that can fix it.
It’s an attitude of being present
and being unafraid to sit with
them and to be with them and
to hold them up when you can.”
For those who are grieving,
Kellstrom said it’s important to
surround yourself with people
you trust. Many of the people
she’s worked with over the years
have wished that they’d turned
to bereavement services sooner,
rather than trying to hold all
their pain in.
Part of that, Kellstrom said,
is a cultural shift. When she got
into hospice work, people — es-
pecially older individuals and
men — seemed to be under the
impression that they needed to
mourn a death for a set amount
of time and then move on. But
that isn’t how grief works.
“That isn’t the reality of los-
ing someone significant in your
life to death,” she said. Remind-
ers of that person will come up
throughout your life, and pre-
tending they don’t doesn’t help
anyone.
“Grief needs to move,” Kell-
strom said. “It needs to move
from the inside of you to the
outside. It needs to have a voice.
It needs to be heard.”
And hearing those experi-
ences helps both grieving peo-
ple and those trying to support
them to understand that pain.
“Reach out to your local hos-
pice,” Kellstrom said. “Reach
out to someone in the commu-
nity who has experience work-
ing with grief and loss, and give
them a chance to support you.”
HOSPICE AS A HOME
Kellstrom said the environ-
ment at the Hospice of Red-
mond is like a family.
“We all have supported each
other in the work that we do
and taking care of each other,
so we can take care of others,”
Kellstrom said. “It’s hard to
walk away from that.”
But Kellstrom knows she’s
leaving the hospice in capa-
ble hands. And, after she takes
some time to spend with fam-
ily and travel, she’ll be back as
a volunteer.
Bereavement work can be
taxing. It’s easy to get wrapped
up in someone else’s pain.
“Sometimes it’s a lot to bear,”
Kellstrom said. “But at the
same time, we know that we
can help make a difference.”
Watching patients learn to
cope with their grief is where
Kellstrom drew her strength
to keep working in hospice for
all these years — and where
she said she learned a lot, her-
self.
“What an honor that was
for them to come to me, a to-
tal stranger, and trust me with
their story and trust me with
their hearts,” she said.
█
Reporter:
lbaudhuin@redmondspokesman.com