VOZ - Day Workers Center Portland

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I was nervous as I tried to find parking near VOZ. I had called and I knew they were expecting me, but still, I was concerned that I would just be taking up their time. While waiting for a stop light, I saw the first of what would be many instances of a truck pulling up to a corner. This was a corner near the VOZ Worker Center, but about 1 block away. The truck slowed, but didn't stop. Encouraged by the possibility, the men took off in a sprint towards the vehicle with a refrigerator tied in the back. With an intensity that would shame or honor any high-pressure salesman, they honed in on the windows of the truck. Within a few seconds, a few of the men were in the truck and driving away.

It was intense. Later, I was to learn that some of the workers at the center hadn't had a single day of work for over a month. I realized that I could not imagine this. Such intensity aimed at getting a paid day's work and nothing? Wow. I imagined them all situated in the Grapes of Wrath. All the stories had had heard, read and watched as a child fell in on me at once. I even started to see things in that sepia tone. (that brown monochrome seen in old pictures)

But then I walked onto the property of VOZ. Even though I was a little nervous, I was greeted warmly, first by workers who thought I might have a job for someone and then by the office. One by one, I saw a brief shadow of disappointment upon realizing that I was not the source of income. This shadow faded quickly and replaced by joy and welcome.

I felt right at home once I entered the English classroom and saw a familiar sight: students pointing to various walls after someone at the front of the room called out "North!" or "Southeast!" They were learning directions. Soon, I was integrated into the class and helping with some of the students who were struggling or quiet at the back of the class.

Little did I know that this was only going to be the first of many connected experiences on my trip. By the end of my trip, I have been in contact with 12 different organizations down the west coast and across the border states. Most of them were members of NDLON. Some were not. Each was was amazingly similar and vastly different from the others before and after it.

This is the story of my trip. I am writing it as I wind down and finish the journey. I realize now that I did not have the words to write when I began because I did not have the context. I thought I was going to see 10 worker centers that were similar to Casa Latina. But in the past 6 weeks, I have seen things I could have never imagined. I tried to take pictures. I attempted to conduct recorded interviews. But sometimes that just seemed either disrespectful or that I would miss something if I were trying to get the right composition for photograph.

So, now, you're just going to have to read the story and live with what pictures, video and audio that I have gathered. My hope not to give you a realistic photograph of my experience. That would not be possible. "You had to be there" is an understatement. My hope, rather, is to reach out and give you a sense of connection; a sense of hope; a new insight or curiosity that you find you need to check out for yourself.

This blog is dedicated to every member of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence who dreamed of what it would be like to promulgate joy in an completely new environment. It is also dedicated to every staff, volunteer and member of an organization that fights for the rights of migrant, immigrant, refugee and asylum seekers. Likewise, I hold in my heart and my brain my beloved friends of 10, 15, and 20 years or more and my family in Indiana, I am deeply grateful for your support, without which, this trip would not have been possible. Finally, I dedicate this to Xander, Izzy, Alex, Austin, Jenna, Lauren and Nick - the beloved children in my life. You....I am prouder of you than you will ever know - even - or especially when you are not perfect.

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