VIEWPOINTS
Saturday, May 21, 2022
East Oregonian
A5
BETTE
HUSTED
FROM HERE TO ANY WHERE
Fighting class
issues by
promoting
inclusivity
T
he news this month has been
beyond discouraging. Some days
it’s only the migrating lazuli
buntings that keep me going, those
small blue sparks beneath the feeder.
But stories do continue to sustain me.
April’s First Draft writer Joe Wilkins
read from his novel “Fall Back Down
When I Die,” set in eastern Montana,
and shared poems from his new collec-
tion, “Thieve.” His 11-year-old daugh-
ter Edie stunned us, too, with her
open mic reading. We watched her
father filming her as she read, hold-
ing love in his hands like a camera.
We’re grateful to be able to bring
writers like Joe and Edie, like Thurs-
day’s Tom Titus and we look forward to
visits from Charles Goodrich, Penelope
Scambly Schott, Callam Angus and
Debra Gwartney. It seems especially
significant that we are offering First
Draft in hybrid form now: in-per-
son readings with a Zoom connection,
because inclusivity is so important. It’s
why we keep First Draft free and acces-
sible, and offer the works of both men
and women, young and old, writers of
every skin color and sexual orientation.
Still, discouragement is in the news,
headline after headline. An authori-
tarian ruler is causing terrible suffer-
ing in Ukraine, and in our own country
the views of an evangelical minority
threaten to replace inclusive democ-
racy with an authoritarian singleness.
Under the reasoning of Justice Alito’s
leaked Supreme Court draft focus-
ing on abortion, interracial marriages,
LGBTQ and trans rights, even contracep-
tion could be threatened. And of course
with insistence upon a single “truth,”
education has quickly become a threat.
The proposed cutbacks at Blue Moun-
tain Community College are not the
direct result of such reasoning, but the
threat to inclusivity is much the same.
This time it’s not racial or sexual exclu-
sion, but if students cannot continue to
study in-depth vocational and academic
courses and instead are offered weeks-
long programs that shuttle them directly
into the work force — with the justi-
fication that after all, they need only
a roast beef sandwich, not a roast
beef dinner — that’s a class issue.
I’ve been fighting such class issues
all my life.
I wrote about this struggle in “Lessons
from the Borderlands,” a collection of
personal essays about my own “life with
class,” my working class childhood and
my work in classrooms trying to kick
down the blocked doors to let everyone
in, hoping to help others’ lives expand.
Yes, we need jobs. When school
budget cutbacks left me unemployed
in mid-life, I was terrified. We’re
mammals; we have to eat. Our fami-
lies need shelter, clothing. But if we
focus only on paychecks, we lose every-
thing. We lose democracy, which is
why public education began and why
it is so necessary. Inclusiveness, again:
not just your ideas or mine, but exam-
ining, exploring, discovering. Recog-
nizing fallacies. Finding more and
more potential for human joy.
But such words sound foolish to those
who insist the purpose of a commu-
nity college is work force develop-
ment. “Developing whole workers
who appreciate art, drama, music and
literature in addition to their knowl-
edge of their craft is a grand calling for
this or any other school,” scoffed an
East Oregonian editorial of 25 years
ago, when draconian cutbacks to what
had been an excellent college began
under President Travis Kirkland.
I must have more respect for work-
ers than that editorial writer. After all,
who decides how rich a mechanic’s or
a bookkeeper’s life can be? “Students
deserve discovery, new ideas,” I wrote
in “Lessons from the Borderlands.”
“Areas of awareness expanding like
fractals, taking them places they had
no idea they wanted to go. Give them
what they came for, yes, but more,
more. Education isn’t just informa-
tion, a commodity you can package
and buy. ‘Bread and roses.,’ I had joked
with my own students. ‘Unlimited
extra credit to everyone who can sing
all the lyrics by the end of the term.’”
And of course without enough trans-
fer courses — soon, perhaps, without the
two year transfer degree — careers will
be cut short before they can even begin.
It’s about money, we are told —
this, in one of the richest countries in
the world. I would argue that it’s about
limitation. In a word, exclusion.
We deserve more.
———
Bette Husted is a writer and a student
of tai chi and the natural world. She lives
in Pendleton.
A miracle treatment is extending
my life, Oregon might take it away
JESSE
ARNOLD
OTHER VIEWS
I
n 2017, my wife gave birth to twins.
Watching them grow has been the
greatest joy of my life — especially
because I wasn’t always sure I’d live to
see them reach their first birthdays, let
alone their first day of kindergarten.
Like 30,000 other Americans, I
currently live with cystic fibrosis. Since
the day I was born, genetic mutations
have caused my lungs to fill with excess
mucus, clogging my airways and lead-
ing to infections. Breathing — something
most people do without thinking — is a
struggle I’ve confronted my entire life.
Cystic fibrosis patients never know
when a day may be our last. That’s why
guaranteeing access to cutting-edge proce-
dures and medications is so crucial.
Those treatments have saved my
life more than once. I received my first
double-lung transplant when I was 28.
The operation afforded me the rare
gift of time — to accelerate my career,
meet my wife and build a family.
Ten years later, my lung function
suddenly plummeted to 8%. My doctors
told me it was too risky to undergo a trans-
plant and recommended that my family
and I prepare for the worst. Thank-
fully, I found a specialist who could
give me a second double-lung trans-
plant — and a new lease on life.
For that, I’m eternally grateful. Yet lung
transplants are an imperfect fix, since they
don’t target the root cause of cystic fibrosis.
And only about half of transplant recipients
are alive five years after their procedures.
That’s why I’m so optimistic about a new
medication I’m taking. The drug works to
correct the malfunctioning proteins in my
“CYSTIC FIBROSIS
PATIENTS NEVER KNOW
WHEN A DAY MAY BE
OUR LAST. THAT’S
WHY GUARANTEEING
ACCESS TO CUTTING-
EDGE PROCEDURES
AND MEDICATIONS IS SO
CRUCIAL.”
lung cells that cause cystic fibrosis. Taking
three pills a day can increase a patients’
lung function by nearly 15% and decrease
the rate of serious infection by 63%.
The medicine gives me hope that
my new lungs will continue work-
ing long into the future. Scientists at the
Food and Drug Administration recog-
nized how transformational the medi-
cine could be for patients like me. That’s
why they chose to expedite its review.
It’s vital that all patients suffering
from chronic, serious and life-threaten-
ing diseases have access to treatments
approved through these special pathways.
That’s why I’m particularly worried
that Oregon, the state I call home, is threat-
ening to take these drugs away from
the patients who need them most.
To cut costs, the Oregon Health Authority
has asked for permission to allow our state’s
Medicaid program to limit or refuse coverage
of drugs that went through the FDA’s accel-
erated approval pathway, which is similar —
though not identical — to the pathways that
brought me my life-saving medication. This
would be a massive blow, since over 1 million
low-income Oregonians rely on Medicaid.
The proposal would deny vulnerable
Oregon patients more than just a medi-
cation. It would strip them of the oppor-
tunity to experience the joys of a life
they didn’t think they’d get to live.
Thanks to unprecedented medical
breakthroughs, those of us with cystic
fibrosis are graduating college. We’re play-
ing 18 holes on the weekend with friends.
We’re finding our soulmates and start-
ing families of our own. And we’re enjoy-
ing simple moments with our kids.
To ensure that future genera-
tions of patients can do the same,
Oregon must guarantee access to the
miracles that make it possible.
———
Jesse Arnold lives in Portland with his wife
and two children. This piece was written on
his behalf working with a representative of the
Oregon Bioscience Association to tell his story.
B2H seeks to overstep noise laws meant to
protect Oregonians’ health, safety and welfare
FUJI
KREIDER
OTHER VIEWS
E
ver hear the snap, crackle, pop or
humming of transmission lines?
Would you want to live near them?
How about hike, fish or recreate in your
favorite park with those sounds buzzing
in the background? This is corona noise.
High-voltage transmission lines, such as
the proposed Boardman to Hemingway
line, emit a low humming or crackling
noise that is referred to as “corona sound.”
The corona sound emitted by B2H will
not exceed Oregon’s maximum allow-
able industrial sound levels (so you won’t
go deaf); however, it will exceed what’s
called “ambient antidegradation standard.”
This standard says that an industrial sound
cannot exceed the natural (ambient) back-
ground sound more than 10 decibels in any
given hour of a day (24-hour period). Every
increase of 10 decibels is experienced by
humans as a doubling of the sound. This
ambient degradation standard was created
and put into law to protect Oregonians’
health, safety and welfare. Health stud-
ies have shown that this type of sound can
affect sleeping patterns and people’s health.
So what is the Stop B2H Coalition’s
contested case about? If the state of Oregon
rules that Idaho Power must comply with
the state’s noise control standards, the
project is unpermittable. Therefore, Idaho
Power is asking the state for an exception to
the rules and a complete variance from the
rules. A variance would raise the ambient
background an additional 10 decibels — a
blanket variance for 300 miles. The excep-
tion would be for specific residents along
the way where Idaho Power already knows
there will be noise exceedances from the
rules. There are 42 predicted by Idaho
Power; we believe there are likely more.
Our case has been brought forward by
Stop B2H plus four individuals. We have
all taken different angles to this issue in an
attempt to demonstrate that Idaho Power
cannot comply with the law and should not
qualify for an exception or variance. Our
issues include: 1) Insisting on strict compli-
ance to Oregon laws and rules, including
what constitutes “infrequent foul weather”
(when corona is loudest) and what quali-
fies for exception and variance (remem-
ber: sound doubles with every 10 dBA).
2) The boundary for the noise study was
arbitrarily reduced by Oregon Department
of Energy staff (1 mile to 0.5 mile). 3) The
monitoring stations used to measure back-
ground (ambient) sound were not “repre-
sentative” of rural residential areas (e.g.,
adjacent to the Union Pacific railroad). 4)
The ODOE lacks legal authority to issue
the variance. 5) The mitigation measures
proposed, which essentially amount to
an “after-the-fact” complaint process and
window treatments, are not mitigation. The
law says that the Commission on Envi-
ronmental Quality is supposed to be the
only entity able to issue a variance — not
ODOE.
By Idaho Power’s admission, there is
not a technological way to mask corona
noise. Idaho Power is proposing retrofitting
some houses and providing new windows
to those affected as mitigation. Apparently,
Idaho Power doesn’t realize that many
Eastern Oregonians spend time outside
their homes: feeding livestock, working the
land, recreating and enjoying the outdoors
on a regular basis. Many of us live in this
rural region of the state for the very peace
and quiet we enjoy.
Corona noise is an industrial intru-
sion that our laws are supposed to prevent.
Unfortunately, we have to prevail in this
case to preserve what we have. Please
support Stop B2H and check us out at
www.stopb2h.org.
———
Fuji Kreider, of La Grande, is the secre-
tary/treasurer of the Stop B2H Coalition.
She is a community organizer and organi-
zational development consultant who has
worked in various sectors and countries. She
loves to cook, travel to off-the-beaten-path
locations, hike, raft and play with friends.