The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current, November 24, 2020, Page 6, Image 6

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    A6
THE ASTORIAN • TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2020
County reports 11 new virus cases
The Astorian
Clatsop County on Monday reported
11 new coronavirus cases.
The cases include a woman in her
20s, a man in his 30s, a man in his 40s
and a man in his 70s living in the north-
ern part of the county.
The others live in the southern part
of the county and include two women
in their 20s, a woman in her 30s, a man
and woman in their 40s, a woman in her
50s and man in his 60s.
One of the new cases was hospital-
ized, according to the county, and the
rest were recovering at home.
The county has recorded 343 cases
since March. According to the county,
fi ve were hospitalized and one has died.
The Oregon Health Authority has
reported 66,333 cases and 826 deaths
from the virus statewide as of Monday
morning.
The health authority tracked 8,350
test results in Clatsop County, includ-
ing 335 of the positive cases.
The health authority announced Fri-
day that it will change the way virus
testing is tracked.
The state has been tracking the num-
ber of new people tested. People who
tested negative were counted only
once, no matter how many negative test
results they received.
The health authority will begin
tracking the number of tests adminis-
tered so that the state’s testing capacity
is more accurately represented.
The Chinook Observer reported that
Pacifi c County, Washington, disclosed
94 new virus cases on Friday, pushing
the case count to 340.
“We do not report these numbers to
cause alarm, but rather to increase aware-
ness of the surge and to remind people to
take recommended safety precautions,”
Pacifi c County Public Health and Human
Services said in a statement Friday night.
Mushrooms: Commercial harvest not allowed
Continued from Page A1
months when these partic-
ular fungi might be sending
up fruiting bodies. Patrol cars
could be seen idling in parking
lots or cruising down the main
roads through the park.
Unlike when recreational
marijuana was legalized in
Oregon in 2015, psilocy-
bin won’t be available at dis-
pensaries, nor will people be
allowed to cultivate the mush-
rooms in their homes.
The program instead will
be overseen by the Oregon
Health Authority — rather
than the Oregon Liquor Con-
trol Commission, which over-
sees cannabis. Regulatory
details will be developed over
a two-year period.
Though now legal in Ore-
gon in a limited sense, psilo-
cybin, like cannabis, remains
classifi ed as a Schedule I drug
under federal law.
Legality aside, seeking
out psilocybin mushrooms
is an activity people should
approach with caution.
There are a number of little
brown mushrooms growing
in Fort Stevens and some of
them are deadly. A layperson
may not be able to distinguish
between a mushroom that is
magic and one that is mortal.
“With any mushroom, you
should be 100% sure of your
identifi cation before you eat
it,” said Dane Osis, a park
ranger at Fort Stevens .
In a normal fall, Osis
would be leading visitors on
wild mushroom hikes, help-
ing newcomers identify and
better understand the fungal
world. All of those hikes were
canceled this year because of
the coronavirus pandemic, but
it has not dimmed foragers’
enthusiasm.
Even on a stormy weekend
at the beginning of November,
people parked on the side of
Jetty Road and in nearby park-
ing lots and set out in search of
mushrooms.
But parks have been espe-
cially busy this year as the
pandemic continues to restrict
activities.
“We’re one of the last
things people have for a sense
of normalcy,” Osis said .
Enforcing etiquette
State parks allow a liberal
recreational picking limit. Vis-
itors can fi ll a 1 gallon bucket
a day, if they want — more
than enough for a feast.
Commercial harvest is not
allowed but it does happen.
Sometimes vans will show up
in parking lots at Fort Stevens
fi lled with passengers. With
large buckets in their hands,
these people march search-
party style through the woods
and clear the ground of edible
fungi.
“I’m sure they’re out there,
but it’s not high on our priority
list,” Osis said.
The park is vast and enforc-
ing mushroom-related rules is
tricky. Besides, the resource
itself — the mushrooms — are
probably not being harmed.
“Even with the most inten-
sive picking, the mushrooms
are going to be fi ne,” Osis said.
“(A mushroom’s) whole
mission in life is to produce
spores,” he said. As long as at
least a few mature mushrooms
remain standing and the hab-
itat is still present, “you still
have the mushroom,” Osis
said.
The increasing popularity
of this type of foraging means
some long time local mush-
room pickers might not have
certain sites all to themselves
anymore , he added.
Still, he says, people should
be respectful of the resource.
Inexperienced
pickers
sometimes become over-
zealous in their explorations,
seeming to knock over or pick
every mushroom in their path
while they try to fi nd and iden-
tify edible varieties.
Studies have found it makes
little difference to the per-
sistence of mushrooms in a cer-
tain area whether people pull
or cut mushrooms they har-
vest, but it’s important not to
rake the duff up while looking
for prized culinary mushrooms
like matsutake. This can ruin
the mushrooms and destroy
the mycelium, the vegetative,
thread-like part of the fungus
that branches underground and
produces mushrooms.
And, Osis said, “Just
because you see a mushroom,
you don’t have to kick it over.”
As people do come out to
the parks, Osis echoed general
park guidelines: Park in desig-
nated lots, not the side of the
road. Don’t litter.
As far as mushrooms go,
don’t overdo it: “Pick what you
need for food or dinner,” he said.
Mushroom picking can
be a great and healthy way to
enjoy the landscape, Havel
said.
It “combines many of the
things we love about the Ore-
gon outdoors: enjoyment of
native plants, stewardship of
natural landscapes and active
outdoor play,” he said. “Plus,
you get to see more salaman-
ders, so … bonus.”
But it can lead to activities
that hurt the landscape: people
camping or parking in places
not designed for those uses, he
added.
“The other potential down-
side comes from inexperi-
enced people heading out
without good planning, which
can lead to people getting lost
or injured since all wild , nat-
ural lands come with risks,”
Havel said.
College: ‘This level of drop isn’t sustainable for us’
Continued from Page A1
The college has seen a
dip in revenue from tuition
and fees and lower enroll-
ment as departments conduct
the majority of classes online.
Students appear to be putting
their education on hold to deal
with work and family issues.
Across the state, other com-
munity colleges reported sim-
ilar declines. Recent enroll-
ment data from Oregon’s
Higher Education Coordinat-
ing Commission show that the
overall headcount of students
dropped by 23% across the
state’s two-year institutions.
At Clatsop Commu-
nity College, the drop was
even more dramatic: Overall
headcount is down by 75%,
according to administrators.
But that number does not
tell the full story, Breitmeyer
said. Lack of enrollment
in the college’s many non-
credit community classes also
affects the overall picture, he
said. The college’s main con-
cern when it looks at enroll-
ment fi gures is the number of
full-time students. That num-
ber is down closer to about
30%, Breitmeyer said.
The college took steps
early on to make up for pos-
sible budget shortfalls and
Breitmeyer is confi dent the
institution can weather coro-
navirus-related impacts in the
short term.
Still, he added, “This level
of drop isn’t sustainable for
us.”
The college has seen the
decline most among its older
male students — men in
their late 20s through 40s —
enrolled in career technical
education courses for subjects
like welding or automotive.
“A lot of those are peo-
ple that come back to us for
retraining in those industries,
specifi cally in the maritime
industry,” Breitmeyer said.
The college is in the mid-
dle of an outreach effort to
connect with students and
better understand the barriers
to continuing with their edu-
cation. Early indications con-
fi rm what most would suspect
given the specifi c pressures
of the pandemic: Many peo-
ple are trying to fi gure out
how to juggle work with chil-
dren who are doing much, if
not all, of their schooling at
home.
The college plans to con-
tinue refi ning the way it offers
classes into the next term
in light of these challenges .
By the fall term, Breitmeyer
hopes to see a rebound in stu-
dent numbers. H e said the col-
lege appears to be keeping the
students it does have. Term-
to-term persistence is up.
On the horizon are col-
lege board discussions about
what it means if online learn-
ing must continue to be the
norm for the long term and
what that means for every-
thing from the student experi-
ence to the budget.
The college is in the mid-
dle of a program prioritization
process, with departments
fi lling out surveys about how
much is spent on certain pro-
grams, the revenue those pro-
grams bring in and student
engagement and community
benefi t among other ques-
tions. The process is essen-
tially trying to answer the
question of why a program
exists . It is a process institu-
tions often go through when
they are under stress and
looking to make cuts.
“I don’t know that we’re in
that place now,” Breitmeyer
said. But if they do reach that
point, he added, they’ll be
able to make measured and
informed decisions.
Ham: Tentatively set to take over on Jan. 1 in Enterprise
Continued from Page A1
Ham will take over for Joel
Fish, who was elected sher-
iff for Wallowa County. Ham
will lead a department of three
full-time offi cers, signifi cantly
smaller than the Seaside Police
Department’s 20 full-time
offi cers.
“It seems to be a really
good department and very well
received in the community,”
Ham said.
Ham, 50, was raised in
Salem. He started his law
enforcement career as a reserve
offi cer in Independence and
received his fi rst paid police
job in October 1995, when
he joined Seaside police as a
patrolman.
Ham worked as a narcot-
ics detective on the county’s
drug task force from 2000 to
2001. He was promoted to ser-
geant in 2001, lieutenant in
2003 and named police chief
in 2014 after the retirement of
Bob Gross.
As chief, Ham stressed
community policing, with out-
reach including National Night
Out, child safety fairs, back-
pack food programs, Shop
With a Cop and serving as
a board member of Seaside
Kiwanis.
In 2016, Ham guided the
department after Sgt. Jason
Goodding was fatally shot
while trying to serve an arrest
warrant.
Ham and Seaside offi cers
have held vigils for Goodding
every year since his death.
This year, Ham has
addressed evolving coronavi-
rus restrictions, protests and
counter protests and a spike in
the city’s homeless population.
Ham said he and his wife,
Cheryl, had discussed eastern
or central Oregon as an even-
tual retirement location.
After seeing a notice in a
newsletter from the Oregon
Association Chiefs of Police,
they started researching the
area.
Ham is tentatively set to take
over on Jan. 1 in Enterprise.
“One of the things that
caught my eye is that they
described the position as a
‘working chief,’” Ham said.
He said he was impressed
with the city’s pride in their
department and the chance to
do more hands-on police work.
Seaside offi cials have yet to
discuss a replacement, he said.
Lt. Guy Knight, Seaside
police’s second-in-command,
would likely serve as the act-
ing chief during the search for
a replacement, he added.
While Ham will miss
Seaside’s crowds and year-
round excitement, he is look-
ing forward to his new role in
Enterprise.
“They do have a sum-
mer infl ux of people coming
through, but nowhere to the
level we’ve experienced here in
Seaside,” he said. “A little bit of
change doesn’t hurt anybody.”
Taylor: ‘We can live a life
that is not defi ned by what
has happened to us’
Continued from Page A1
how it helps me and how it
helps me make contact with
the legacy and the gifts of
our ancestors.”
Larger narrative
Since Native Ameri-
can history has often been
defi ned by genocide and tur-
moil , Taylor said there is a
lot of emphasis on the unfair
treatment of Native Ameri-
cans . He said that narrative
has become reality warping.
“I wanted this book to
be saturated and overfl ow-
ing with the medicine of the
larger true narrative, which
is our ancestors are still with
us,” he said. “We are car-
rying the gifts that Mother
Earth has given to not only
all of our tribal people and
all indigenous people, but all
human beings.
“And we can live a life
that is not defi ned by what
has happened to us. And that
life can be beautiful, it can
be full of happiness, it can
be full of inspiration, it can
be full of every kind of story,
really, that in the innermost
depths of your heart, you
would hope to fi nd your
own life story containing
when you get to the end of
your life.”
Growing up in Colum-
bus, a small town named
after Christopher Colum-
bus, the Italian explorer and
navigator, Taylor was curi-
ous about the history and
infl uence Columbus had on
American
consciousness
and character.
“Right from the get-go I
got challenge No. 1 , which
was, how to discover your-
self when you’re kind of
standing in this huge fi c-
tion of the man who suppos-
edly discovered this conti-
nent that was just blazing
with the cultures and civili-
zations and life, I think that
the modern people are just
not fully comprehending,”
Taylor said.
He said that like a lot of
Native American s, he did
not grow up on a reserva-
tion and was away from his
culture and experiencing
depression in a broken home
rife with drug and alcohol
abuse.
Taylor began reading
Kurt Vonnegut and Tom
Robbins as a teenager and
became passionate about
the writing process, which
he described as a cathartic
experience.
He moved to Lincoln,
Nebraska, in his late teens,
where he said he had the
“stupendous luck of stum-
bling into my people’s ways,
our culture, our ceremonies.”
He spent time with elders
who helped him untangle
and gain clarity around his
feelings and experiences.
“While I was in the midst
of them, you fi gure that
they’re yours — all sorts of
anger, all sorts of depression,
all sorts of self-hate,” Taylor
said. “But you kind of get
more schooled on the situa-
tion that we as human beings
are born into, and you real-
ize, a lot of this stuff that you
fi nd yourself grappling with
was kind of here before you.
And we were born into a
story that we fi nd ourselves
deciding, how do we want to
infl uence, how do we want
to contribute to it, how do
we want to add to it?”
Spending time with
elders
He said he fell in love
with spending time with the
elders, participating in cere-
monies and learning about
the values cherished by
Native Americans.
“And I felt like that’s
where culture should ema-
nate from,” he said. “That’s
where the kind of the per-
sonal guidebook for how we
should live our lives should
emanate from. And I just
wanted to be close to it. I
wanted to learn as much as
I could from it.
“And you kind of turn
around and you start peer-
ing back in time through
the generations and you can
see where this stuff comes
from. And you understand
you’re inheriting this kind
of unpacked, unhealed stuff
that then manifests in almost
very stereotypical ways that
are just such utter cries for
help.
“People don’t throw their
lives away to self-destruc-
tive behaviors because on
some level they’re not crying
for something immensely
tragic and unfortunate and
unjust to be fi nally free and
addressed by the commu-
nity and the people who all
in one way, shape or form ...
are connected to it, too.
“So, I started piecing
together like, ‘O h, this is
what’s going on.’ And it’s
not just my family and it’s
not just this other Indian
family or this other Indian
family — it’s an epidemic
of grief over what has hap-
pened and what, for the
most part, America has
trained its citizens to either
turn a blind eye to or to be
blind to.
“Being around my cul-
ture, I just started unpack-
ing and healing that stuff, as
opposed to suffering from
it and preparing it to be the
package that was going to
be handed down to the ones
who came after me, whether
they were my children or
just my relatives of the next
generation.”
Taylor said “The Memory
of Souls” is a micro memoir
and sequel of sorts to “Spe-
cial Dogs,” the next memoir
he hopes to publish. He said
“Special Dogs” is a coming
of age story about growing
up in Columbus.
“My ultimate aspira-
tion for what I write is that
it will do for others what all
the books I have loved have
done for me,” he said.
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