Katy Kolker,
The Portland Fruit Tree Project

Katy Kolker says she’s found her dream job, but it probably doesn’t look like yours.

Kolker, 28, is the executive director and sole employee of the Portland Fruit Tree Project, an organization devoted to harvesting unwanted fruit from trees across Portland to feed families in need. It was, for a long time, a labor of love—the Project only recently acquired the funds to pay Kolker, who spent much of the past two years volunteering almost full-time.

The Baltimore native, whose background is in biology and environmental studies, started the Project 2 1/2 years ago when she was volunteering with AmeriCorps. In their own neighborhoods, Kolker and another AmeriCorps member picked fruit and pruned trees belonging to elderly or infirm homeowners who were unable to pick the fruit themselves. That first year they had so much interest that they decided to take it beyond their neighborhoods. Last year the Project went citywide. Fruit-tree owners submit their underharvested trees to a registry, and Kolker and her board organize harvesting parties. Half the fruit goes home with the volunteers and half goes to various local food banks. In addition, half the volunteer slots (for which there is a substantial waiting list) are reserved for people living on low incomes, so fully three-quarters of the harvested fruit goes to people in need.

The Fruit Tree Project hosted 12 harvesting events in 2008, picking over 4,000 pounds of fresh fruit that would have otherwise gone to waste. So far this year Kolker estimates some 1,000 families have benefited.

"Fresh fruit is challenging for the emergency food network to acquire, and we were seeing this obvious resource going to waste,” she says. “It’s amazing how many people can’t afford to eat healthily, and to buy fresh produce."

The Project also teaches workshops on food preservation in the fall and tree care in winter—with the goal, Kolker says, of "not just harvesting, but empowering people to use the fruit and make it last through winter."

In about a year, Kolker hopes to begin a community orchard planting program, partnering with other organizations to plant orchards in public sites like churches, schools and community gardens. "We see the potential for this to blossom into a neighborhood-based resource sharing network," says Kolker. "Eventually we may get into vegetables or berries, but capacity is the main factor for now."

Kolker’s vision seems to be spreading. She says she’s been contacted by people from all over the country — and a few in Canada — hoping to start similar projects, and gets calls from people in Eugene "about once a month. I haven’t had time to call anyone back all summer. That’s my project for the winter."

-Ben Waterhouse

Amy Harwood,
BARK

Amy Harwood never intended to get into environmental activism. Her first love was the political world, and her background is in election campaigning. But when she moved out here more than 10 years ago from her childhood home in Portland, Maine, to attend Lewis & Clark College, she fell in love with Mount Hood. "Coming from the East Coast, where there’s not a lot of public land, it just blew my mind," she said. And this being Portland—land of outspoken people with causes—she very naturally got swept up into advocacy for the area’s towering geological landmark.

What started 10 years ago as a passionate act of volunteering is now a full-time gig. Harwood currently works as a program director for Bark, a grassroots organization devoted to protecting all the roots, grasses, trees and waters that make Mount Hood the hulking thing of beauty it is.

Harwood’s hours are split fairly evenly between office work and time on the mountain but what she really loves is being outside. "The more time you get on the ground, the better the advocate you are."

Harwood dreams of the day when Mount Hood will be seen as a scenic hideaway and great source for clean drinking water, and not simply a place to harvest lumber. The beautiful natural areas that surround the city are part of what makes Portland so exceptional, and she fears their loss. But ultimately, the way to save the forest is to make people aware of what’s happening.

On the second Sunday of every month, she leads tour groups to parts of the park in danger of being stripped for their resources. She describes the treks as relatively easy and a great way to educate lay people about the problems Mount Hood faces. Oftentimes members of her group climb the mountain only to find their favorite part of the forest has been logged.

These events frequently lead to what Harwood cites as her greatest source of pride: "When I can train somebody else to be a trainer."

She wants to use her prize money to expand Signal Fire (signalfirearts.org), the artist residency program run by Harwood and her husband. They take artists from the city and place them in a remodeled studio trailer on the mountain for two weeks with a bike and enough food to survive. "We want people to soak up the inspiration, and hopefully feel the same aesthetic calling I feel when I’m out there," she said.

Escapes to nature may be a way of getting away from civilization, but they’re not about running away from humanity. In fact, Harwood says it’s quite the opposite. "As soon as I get out there, I feel like a more whole person."

-Matt Graham

Rodolfo Serna,
P:EAR

Rodolfo Serna winces with embarrassment recalling his brief stint as a used-car salesman. "This little old lady," he reminisces, "needed a car to transport her grandchildren. And I sold her a lemon." When the irate woman returned in her new junker the very next day, Serna, wracked with guilt, explained she was protected under state lemon laws. "Go ahead and leave the keys on the counter," he counseled her. "Just go." The woman looked at him, surprised, and then followed his instructions.

Serna promptly exited the used-car business and commenced a zigzagging path of service—washing clothes for the homeless, organizing mural paintings, working with Native American groups, African-American groups, the Oregon Council for Hispanic Advancement and the Hispanic Access Center. Eventually, he joined the Portland nonprofit p:ear in 2007 as a "transition coordinator," tasked with "assisting homeless youth in getting off the streets."

At p:ear, a drop-in workshop/studio/library/cafeteria provides homeless teens with a safe space for creativity and a storefront gallery to showcase their work. The teens build self-esteem while practicing self-expression—be it in the form of a painting, photograph, written story or photocopied zine. And while art may be what is most visible to observers, Serna credits p:ear's success to its focus on mentoring: "I would have to say my motivation has shifted from being excited about an opportunity to use my art to feeling grateful that I am part of this community."

"Our relationship model," he explains, "is what differentiates us from other organizations." Mentors form close, lasting bonds with p:ear’s budding artists, with no set agenda for progress or benchmarks. Because p:ear is "privately funded, for the most part"—as opposed to relying on grant money—funding is not "tied to outcomes," thus freeing Serna to pursue less measurable goals.

Asked what aspect of p:ear he finds most satisfying, Serna pauses to think, then speaks seriously. "Some things can't be fixed," he says. One p:ear mentee is 16 years old and HIV-positive. "I'll never fix that. Just being able to be there, being able to be present—that is a blessing."

-Tony Piff

Polly Bangs,
Urban Opportunities

After Polly Bangs graduated from Portland State nine years ago with an English degree at age 24, she set out to find a job. And got rejected. "I come from a family of teachers," she says, "and I didn’t know what I wanted to do after college. I just knew I didn’t want to be a teacher."

Whether it was that rejection—or a "weird part of [her] that always wanted to change the world"—Polly’s life has turned into a crusade to get homeless and at risk youth into employment, and she wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

Bangs’ eclectic resume begins at New Avenues for Youth, where she was a day service counselor at the drop-in center. After nearly two years at New Avenues, Bangs had one of those famous "Aha!" moments when she felt she suddenly understood one of the components of what was holding these kids back, perpetuating the cycle of homelessness and unemployment. It was this: "They needed income. They just wanted to work. But many of the youth at New Avenues didn’t have addresses, or a phone. No one was giving them the chance."

Bangs used that insight to take the plunge into a daunting arena: the restaurant industry. Amid the Atkins craze of 2004, and despite the abundance of doubters, Bangs opened Pasta Bangs on North Mississippi Avenue to serve the dual mission of offering delish dining and real-life job skills training for at-risk and homeless youth. "People said I was crazy. But once I start something, I finish it," she says.

Inspired by Jamie Oliver, the famed "Naked Chef," Bangs managed to employ over 50 youths for three to six-month stints during Pasta Bangs’ three-year existence. Bangs says her role was to "interview, train, supervise, critique, hire and give these youth that first job they couldn’t get anywhere else."

Even before Pasta Bangs sold its last plate of pesto penne, Bangs was working on her next venture: starting an organization to work under a larger nonprofit, to continue her mission of finding job placements for at-risk youth. Less than two months later, Urban Opportunities was born.

Currently the do-all mastermind behind Urban Opportunities, Bangs trains 40 youths each year from five Portland-area high schools to do everything from creating their first résumé to securing their first job. Ironically, in her own unconventional way, Bangs is also the epitome of a great teacher. As for the future? "I’d like to expand the program," Bangs says, "...to Hawaii." And laughs. "But really, I think this is a program that could work anywhere, and I would like to see it grow." While the future may remain uncertain, one thing is sure: Polly Bangs is always spinning those wheels. As she puts it, "I get a little wiggy if I don’t have something I’m working on."

-Cate Meeker