Learning From My Tomatoes

by Neal Lemery

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 6/19/2022)

I’m always learning from my garden, even when I think I “know it all”, and expect that things will always go as planned, and that I’m old and wise, and there’s nothing left to learn.

Well, I’m old, but wisdom is often elusive, and there are always lessons to be learned. And, if I don’t think I need to learn, life comes along and ensures that I do my homework and pay attention to the lessons that I need to learn, and the simple lessons are often the most profound.

The recent cold and wet weather has taken its toll on me. It’s mid June and my flowers and vegetables are struggling to settle in and put on their usual burst of growth and productivity. Everything seems about a month behind, and I’m wondering if I’ll have any apples this year. I slog around the yard in my garden boots, listening to the squishiness of my footsteps. I watch the grass and weeds grow higher and higher, my efforts on the occasional dry hour not able to keep up with what a friend calls “lush growth”.

I’ve had some extra tomato plants occupying a corner of the greenhouse, with me not really having space for them in the still chilly and soggy garden, and not being willing to toss a perfectly good plant. They haven’t been looking good lately, pot bound, not being cared for regularly, and stuck in a rather dark corner. The shade cloth on the greenhouse was designed for sunnier days, and its presence has brought more doom and gloom to these poor plants, adding more darkness in addition to the gray clouds.

A friend recently expressed interest in needing more tomatoes, so I had some renewed focus in tomato growing. I repotted them, added fertilizer, and adjusted the shade cloth so more of the gray light of this odd June could help them revive. I even turned the greenhouse heater back on, and plugged in a heating mat, to drive away the chill of the weather.

Perhaps it is my imagination, but even a day of renewed warmth and light has revived them, and given them some hope.

I’ve applied that gardening lesson to myself, too. Yesterday, the sun came out for an afternoon. I decided I needed some repotting, sunshine, and fertilizer, too. I took myself to the beach. I began to notice the beauty of a summer day, my eyes squinting in the bright light, looking at flowers, trees, waterfalls, and the sparkly brightness of the ocean and the beach. Others were out too, exploring the beach, going fishing, or just walking around in the sunshine, like me. The air was fresh and warm and I got the blood circulating and the leg muscles stretched and worked out. I realized I was surrounded by beauty and serenity, and the miracles of what Nature can offer us.

Like the tomatoes, I felt my roots grow and my leaves reaching up for the warm sunshine of a summer’s day. The doldrums of yet another day of cool showers and gray skies was pushed away by that feel that we live in a beautiful place, and need to get out and soak up all the goodness and light of where we live.

6/17/22

We Are All Immigrants

We all came from somewhere else. Maybe not in this generation, but somewhere in the not too distant past, we came from somewhere else.

This week, my country celebrated its political beginnings, a time of rebellion and war, a time of rising up against an imperial, oppressive power, and going ahead on our own.

America was a different place in 1776, thirteen separate colonies. Slavery was an accepted economic reality, and times were hard. Only white men who owned property could vote, and earning a living meant hard physical labor and going without much of what we would think are necessities.

Back then, we welcomed immigrants: new blood, new energies, new ideas. We needed more farmers, more merchants, more people in the cultural melting pot we have come to know as America. And, the America today is a result of all of those waves of immigrants, and the optimism and challenges that brought our ancestors here for a new beginning.

On our nation’s birthday, just before my neighbors decided to shoot off their fireworks at dusk, a photo showed up on my phone. My friend had landed at an American airport, and he had just passed through immigration and customs.

The photo told the story: his face ablaze with the biggest smile. He held a paper stamped with the date, and the words “inspected”. It was official. He was now a documented resident of the USA, a big step to becoming a citizen.

Becoming a citizen in this country now is a challenging, difficult journey, far different than when my dad made the trip to the local courthouse, filled out a form, and quickly became “legalized”, a citizen.

My friend’s journey is longer, more convoluted. It involves a lot of expensive paperwork, and a flight to another country and back again. And, he’s only halfway done with the process, even though he came here when he was seven years old.

Now, years later, he’s a college student, and has a career, a marriage. He is finding his way, focused on a profession, giving back to his community, showing his younger siblings they, too, can live the American dream.

His story is my family’s story, too. This anniversary day of independence, of throwing off the oppression of an unjust government, the shackles of poverty and hopelessness, of coming to a new land and being able to work hard and make a new, better life for yourself and your family, is the American story.

It is my story, and now, it is my young friend’s story.

Some of my ancestors left the sweatshops of an English woolen mill, becoming farmers in their new land, working as farm laborers on an unforgiving Iowa farm in the Midwestern heat. They became citizens, raising a new generation of farmers, Americans.

They took the Oregon Trail, finding a new land, and their own farm, becoming homesteaders, new Oregonians. As a child, I heard my grandmother tell the stories of carving out a farm in the forest, a winter spent in a leaky shack with a canvas roof. The next summer, they built a cabin and a barn, herding their new cows for a week through the forest to their new farm.

After the barn and the cabin, they built a school, taking their hard earned money to hire a teacher and educate their kids. Those immigrants, those refugees from an English woolen mill, they built a new life in a new world.

My grandfather came here, too, yet another immigrant, fresh from a prisoner of war camp after the First World War. There was nothing for him where he had come from, except poverty and disease. Coming to American offered hope, opportunity, a new beginning. He, too, worked as a farm laborer, learning English after a long day, taking the steps to become a citizen.

On the other side of the family, there are other stories, of pulling up stakes and moving to a new land, the promise of education, the value of hard work and adjusting to challenges, the possibilities that came with America’s promise.

Looking back, I see that all my family were immigrants. Coming to America, making your life better, working hard, it was who we were, and who we are.

Looking around, I see that my town was built by the sweat and commitment of immigrants, newcomers who didn’t take opportunities for granted, but were willing to work and make this community their home.

American immigration isn’t just Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Not eighty miles away from here, over 100,000 immigrants came to Oregon through the Knappton Quarantine Station on the Columbia River, from the 1880s to the 1920s. We are literally a nation of immigrants, refugees seeking a better life.

They came seeking what my friend wants: opportunity, freedom, a chance to be part of a great freedom-loving nation.

We celebrate the Fourth of July, and in doing so, we also celebrate our history of welcoming others, to make this nation even stronger, even more a land of opportunity.

My family all wanted the same thing: opportunity. They wanted justice, and freedom from violence and a dead-end, oppressive life. They wanted a chance to prove themselves, and make a better life for their kids. They were willing to work hard, and make sacrifices.

They built farms and schools, created communities, and raised their kids. They worked hard, and helped make this country strong and healthy, a place where the rule of law and individual rights are common values.

My friend wants that, too. He sees a bright future for himself and for his family here. He’s working hard, and wants to do his part in making America an even healthier, stronger place, a place where freedom and justice for all is just not a political slogan, but a deeply held belief, and an aspiration for all of us.

–Neal Lemery, July 6, 2016

An Education Gives You Great Possibilities

by Neal Lemery

September is a time of new beginnings. Vacations are over, and we are back at our daily routines, our work, and, for many of us, our education. Kids wait for the school bus, excited, and eager for a new year of adventure. They feel the possibilities in the air.

Community college is part of that excitement, that feeling that dreams are possible, that each of us can keep growing and learning, becoming better equipped to live our lives, and make a difference in the world.

“Understand that the right to choose your own path is a sacred privilege. Use it. Dwell in possibility.” — Oprah Winfrey

We’ve all seen lives change when young people go on to college, and adults return to the classroom, to gain new skills, and, more importantly, a new perspective on what we can achieve when we learn new ideas and gain new skills.

I recently took a young man to college, helping him to walk through the door, enroll in classes, and chart his path to a promising career. His big smile told me that continuing his education and challenging himself to grow and apply his skills in college was the right move for him.

Because of the generosity and thoughtfulness of charitable people in the community, he received scholarships to help with his student loans. His dream became a reality, and he is now on his path to achieve his possibilities. He felt valued, knowing that his education and his future were something that generous people think is worthwhile.

Already, he is coming up with new ideas and fresh approaches to the challenges of his profession. He will continue to build a strong community, and to give back what he has been given, a chance for a new life.

When we help fund a scholarship, no matter what the amount we give, we give a helping hand to young people like my friend, giving then a chance to improve themselves, a chance to fully realize their dream. We make a better community. Indeed, as Oprah Winfrey says, this is sacred work, being able to help a person transform their life.

I see the fruits of such generosity everywhere in our county, people working hard, raising families, and making a difference, all because they had the chance to go to college, and improve their lives. When we make that dream possible, when we give of our time, our encouragement, and money for a scholarship, each of us changes the world, one person at a time.

September is an exciting time, and a chance to make a difference in a person’s life, offering all of us a lifetime of rewards, and possibilities.

For more information about the TBCC Foundation and planned giving, contact Jon Carnahan or Heidi Luquette at TBCC, (503)842-8222 x 1010. http://tbcc.or.us and click on “foundation”.

Neal Lemery is president of the TBCC Foundation, and a returning TBCC student.

(published in the Tillamook, Oregon Headlight Herald September 3, 2014