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About The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 15, 2017)
1C THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2017 CONTACT US Erick Bengel | Features Editor ebengel@dailyastorian.com WEEKEND BREAK FOLLOW US facebook.com/ DailyAstorian REFLECTIONS ON A FULL YEAR Photos Courtesy Joan Herman Herman, with her husband, John Gaasland, on an early iteration of the beach chariot in Newport 2014. A Women’s March, a friend’s departure, a seat in public office, a beach-bound chariot ride and a high school reunion By JOAN HERMAN For The Daily Astorian I love the change of seasons, particularly fall into win- ter. The darkest days of the year, rather than depress me, envelop me like a comfort- ing cloak, encouraging me to reflect on the previous 12 months. I marked my first full year living here since my return to Astoria in 2016. I underwent minor surgery. I was appointed to public office, the Astoria Planning Commission. And I lost my dearest cat friend, my 17-year-old Himalayan-Sia- mese mix, Panda Bear. He was just two months old when he was handed over to my care in a shoe box outside the Columbia River Maritime Museum. Over the years, he and I had grown older and weaker together, I from multiple sclerosis, he from age and kidney disease. I was Panda’s human, and as I progressed from needing no mobil- ity aids to a cane, then a walker and, eventually, a wheelchair, he simply found new ways to snuggle up to me. He is greatly missed. A few other experiences from 2017 stand out. Shortly after the year began, I joined some 1,300 other marchers on Jan. 21 for the Astoria Women’s March, one of thousands occurring simultane- ously across the globe. In my younger, able-bodied days, I often spent weekends participating in one athletic event or another — whether 10K runs or long-distance bike rides. I was proud and espe- cially grateful to be able to partic- ipate in a mass event once again, albeit this time in my cherry-red power wheelchair. I have been using the chair since 2014 due to MS, but thanks to the Americans with Disabilities Act, which requires sidewalks to be wheelchair-accessible, I could easily navigate the entire route of Life Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” — Mary Oliver, American poet the Women’s March. Ironically, Oregon’s famously public beaches are out of reach for most wheelchair users, unless they are in a vehicle. Personally, I hate the idea of driving a vehicle on the beach, and it’s not the same as being out in the elements with the wind blowing in my face anyway. That said, I am blessed to be married to a handy husband, who is often devising ways to help me par- ticipate in activities I would other- wise have to give up due to my dis- ability. When John mentioned he wanted to attend the annual Corgi Beach Day, held in Cannon Beach in July, I told him to go without me, as I couldn’t get my chair on the sand. (I had not yet heard that Cannon Beach had purchased two beach-worthy wheelchairs.) Not to be dissuaded, John devised what he calls the “beach chariot,” a simple contraption involving a lawn chair placed atop a plywood deck, with fat-tired wheels beneath it. For the first time in three years, I was able to get on the beach, with John pulling the long aluminum poles connected to the chariot, pedicab style. We may have gotten as many laughs as the throngs of happy little dogs romping about on that sunny July day. One month later, and with some trepidation, I headed to my 40th high school reunion in Salem. I was painfully shy and unhappy in high school. It was not the best time of my life, to say the least. When I graduated high school, I pretty much closed the door on all but a very few friendships and gladly moved on to the next phase of my life. But as I grow older and become more aware of my mortality, I also feel pulled to reconnect with peo- ple I have known in earlier stages. I would be lying if said I wasn’t worried about how my former classmates would perceive my wheelchair-bound self. Would any of my small circle of friends be in attendance? Would the star quar- terback who embarrassed me in the school hallway, one day so many years ago, also be present? Yet I knew if I didn’t go, I would regret it. There are no redos for 40th reunions. I am happy to report that I not only survived the event but had a good time. As soon as I rolled into the Salem Convention Center, where the reunion was held, sev- eral classmates I literally hadn’t seen since graduation in 1977 sur- rounded me, welcoming me with hugs. And that high school jock I was worried about seeing? He had died of cancer three months earlier. As I write these words four months later, on a surpris- ingly clear December day, I am reminded of a remarkable, once- in-a-lifetime moment last summer, when all of us stared up at the sky, united in childlike wonder at the sheer beauty and mystery of the universe. I am grateful to be here still. From left: Herman, Denise Moore, Josie Peper, Pat Bur- ness and Wendela Howie at the Astoria Women’s March in January 2017. Herman views the eclipse from the Astoria Column in August 2017. Herman with Panda Bear circa 2009