My introduction to shredding

From the flatlands of Kansas to flat on my face in the powdery Montana snow is how I learned to snowboard. This was my experience at Bridger Bowl last week during my first lesson with Ally, my friend who is a competitive snowboarder. She was graciously teaching me and my boyfriend, Jerry, the basics since we knew nothing.

The first time I got on a snowboard, I felt about as natural as a mermaid who’s sprouted legs. With one boot strapped in, Ally showed us how to move around. Before I knew it, I was shuffling a few inches at a time.

Getting to the lift was challenging for us newbies but we eventually made it. It was sunny and not too windy, so the lift ride was fantastic overlooking the mountains. The slopes seemed less daunting from the padded chairs and I could have ridden that around the whole day and been happy.

Ally explained very well a few times how to get off the lift, but in my excitement and general confusion, I wasn’t really listening. My interpretation of “push off” the seat looked more like “grab onto,” apparently. Falling the first time off the lift was expected, but I didn’t expect that getting up would be so hard. If it weren’t for Ally, the people behind us on the lift might have been there indefinitely.

Once upright, I worked on where to put my weight to balance. Next step was moving a little and stopping with my heels. I got pretty good at falling correctly and learned not to put out my wrists to catch myself. It was then when I realized that I hadn’t buttoned the snowskirt on my coat and my clothes had two snowballs worth of snow in them.

Jerry was catching on quickly and I gradually worked toward moving down the mountain slowly. I fell quite a bit and later, I realized it was partly because I was afraid to fall. When my body was stiff, I’d sort of flail my arms around to get balanced, which unsurprisingly led me to fall more.

My biggest victory was getting from the top of the mountain to the bottom. We went on three green-slope runs and that’s about all I could handle. Getting up and down all those times is more taxing than snowboarding normally I’d guess. By the end of the day, Jerry was making turns and I could move around but it’s clear I’ll need a lot more practice.

A couple days later we went back to try skiing and though I was shaky at first — everyone says this but it’s true — it was like riding a bike. My parents had fortunately made me go skiing in Colorado a handful of times growing up, so I picked it up much easier. (There was no skiing, snowboarding or sledding going on in western Kansas unless it involved a rope and a pickup.)

I’m just beginning with the snowboard and I don’t intend to give up on it, but I’ve found my winter muse is skiing. It makes me feel like an Olympian or a stunt double or at least competent. Since that day, I’ve already gone skiing again.

When I made the decision to come up here from Kansas, it was summer and I fell in love with hiking. In fall, I fell in love with the valleys, but I was a little concerned about winter. What was I going to do when the long, cold sleep hit besides watch Netflix and maybe read? Could I ever be prepared for a Montana winter having not experienced one before? I doubted it. And now I know that I was right. I was not prepared to become a winter sports enthusiast.

My worry about winter has gone. I can handle the cold and the snow because as long as it’s around, skiing and snowboarding will be, too.

Ally Goeble performs snowboading tricks. 

Busking booms in Lawrence

It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Lawrence. For you, it’s a great day for a stroll to see and be seen. For Tyler Gregory and his guitar, Sonny Sparks and his bass, John Tuttle and his homemade drum set, Bill Wachspress and his balloons or Tim Dingus and his flaming torches, it’s the perfect day to busk. 

Downtown has always been a hip place, but it’s attracting a new crowd besides everyday shoppers, joggers and dog walkers. Buskers have taken to the streets to make a living, and it’s catching on rapidly. If you haven’t heard of busking, it’s essentially street performance for gratuity.  

Lawrence resident Robert Knapp works near a prime pitch (performance area) and thinks he knows why. “You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting an artist in this town,” said Knapp. In other words, the community is eclectic and accepting of the arts. Those qualities have opened up the city to opportunities like Busker Fest, which is an event that showcases local and international acts while providing a performance platform for anyone with a talent to share. 

Not only is Busker Fest good for the buskers, it’s good for business, says Kathy Hamilton, director of Downtown Lawrence Inc. “Busker Fest draws people in from all over. It’s a boost to the local economy.”

Producer Richard Renner says the festival brings good publicity. “Our intention was to create an image of Lawrence as a street-performing town where the people and city support it,” he said. “So far, that’s true.”

The first year in 2008, there were 20 hired acts performing at designated pitches. They’ve added five hired acts every year and the number of affiliated acts is also growing, though the exact number is hard to gauge, he said. Two of the more popular acts have been Voler, an aerialist troupe from Kansas City, and MamaLou Strongwoman, who can rip phone books in half and fold frying pans into burritos.  

This year, Busker Fest will benefit Big Brothers Big Sisters of Douglas County — if it happens. Money is tight because major donations have come from state-sponsored organizations that face budget cuts such as the Kansas Arts Commission. Renner will know by May 20 whether or not they have the funding for the festival scheduled August 19-21. As of this week, he still needs two thousand dollars, but he’s hopeful. “We’re 80 percent there,” says Renner.  

Busker John Tuttle says that Busker Fest gives busking a sense of respectability by educating the public about what street performance is and what it is not: panhandling or “flying as sign.” Banjo player Aron Claassen agrees. “I’m not a beggar. I’m just out there performing and if people choose to pay me for my performance then thank you very much,” said Claassen. 

Downtown business owner Larry Billings is wary of buskers and panhandlers alike. “Aggressive panhandling is a problem. It frightens customers,” said Billings. Last year, 19 citations were written for aggressive panhandling, which is more than the citations from 2005-2009 combined. According to city ordinance 7891, busking and panhandling are legal so long as there is no verbal request or harassment.  

There’s no doubt busking is challenging. It’s a gamble, says guitarist Jason Phoenix. Besides needing optimal weather and fighting dirty hobo stereotypes, buskers face the reality that the choice to tip hasn’t been easy either. “People have a harder time giving because everybody’s wallets are strapped,” said Phoenix.

The economy has been rough on everyone, but if you ask Balloonman (Bill Wachspress) why he’s busked for 29 years, it’s not about the money. “Buskers really care about the people they’re interacting with. What it comes down to is giving the audience something to take away that really has value for them.” 

Tyler Gregory performs in downtown Lawrence.

Local food movement gains momentum in Lawrence

If you walk down the street in Lawrence, you’re bound to run into a locavore — but don’t be frightened, locavores don’t eat locals. They are merely participants in the local food movement gaining momentum nationally.

 You might wonder what local food movement means: For one thing, it is part of the larger sustainability movement. It’s a shift from the corporate model of industrialized agriculture where much of the quality lies in the hands of the middleman to a focus on self-sufficient production and consumption of local food where the potential benefits lie in the local economy.

 “This is a movement towards community and connection to the place where people live and to their neighbors,” says Rhonda Janke, associate professor of alternative crops at Kansas State University. And now, more than ever, communities are banding together to take back control of their quality of life.

Instead of fast food, it’s about proximity. With far fewer miles from the production field to dinner plate, it makes ecological sense. Instead of eating produce that’s been shipped in from who knows where or grown under who knows what conditions, people want to know their food and know the farmer. They are opting out of buying bar codes from big business in favor of investing in produce grown by people in their own communities. 

One of the ways communities in Kansas fight back can be seen in the growth of famers’ markets across the state. There has been a dramatic increase in farmers’ markets over the past 24 years according to the Farmers’ Market organization website. In 1987, Kansas was home to 26 farmers markets. Today that number has almost quadrupled to the current census of 101 markets statewide.

And the number of markets nationally has exploded, too. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, between 1994 and 2010 the number of farmers’ markets recorded in the United States has more than tripled from 1,755 to 6,132 and from 2009 to 2010 alone the National Farmers’ Market Directory marked a 16 percent growth.

"Seeing such continued strong growth in the number of U.S. farmers markets indicates that regional food systems can provide great economic, social, and health benefits to communities across the country,” said Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack in a news release.

The Lawrence Farmers’ market is ahead of the curve, says Tom Buller, market coordinator. The market is celebrating its 35th anniversary this year with more than 90 vendors — more than ever before — selling everything from gooseberry plants and stout-flavored cup cakes to eggplants and emu oil. So far, says Buller, this market season, which stretches from the second Saturday in April to the third Saturday in November, is shaping up to be one of the best on record.

The reasons that people come to the local food movement are as varied as the products you can find at the Lawrence Farmers’ Market.

One of the main benefits of buying locally is the environmental implication, said Eileen Horn, sustainability coordinator for the city of Lawrence and Douglas County and member of the Douglas Food Policy Council. Many producers have adopted sustainable farming practices. Aside from that, there are fewer “food miles” from farm to plate. In the traditional agriculture system, most of the fruits and vegetables are trucked in from places like California and Florida.

It’s also about consumer awareness according to Jennifer Smith, horticulture extension agent for K-State Research and Extension in Douglas County. “Freshness and quality is a huge thing. People are starting to think about where their food is coming from and how it’s grown,” said Smith.

It’s no secret that you can find quality food close to home.

“There’s a demand for locally grown food. People want that kind of product because it’s fresher,” said Jim Fisher of Checkers grocery store in Lawrence.

But people aren’t just hungry for fresh, quality food; they’re craving connection. “Farmers’ markets bring people together. They have an opportunity to have a relationship with the people that are growing their food and that’s important,” says Mercedes Taylor-Puckett, project coordinator for Kansas Rural Center. The Kansas Rural Center is a nonprofit organization that promotes the health of farmland through research, education and advocacy.

            Al Pendleton, 87, has been coming to socialize at the Lawrence Farmers’ Market for more than 20 years. It’s become a weekly ritual to pick up the pie he reserves with Clark Family Farms.  “I live towards Saturday,” says Pendleton. “I just love to come here and visit with everybody.”

The Saturday market will run from 7 a.m. to 11 a.m. through the end of September. In October, the hours shift from 8 a.m. to noon. The Saturday market ends on the Saturday before Thanksgiving.

Both the Tuesday market, on the 1000 block of Vermont Street, and the Thursday market, 4932 W. Sixth St., are from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. and run from the first week of May to the end of October.

When it comes down to it, Ann Merkel, who has been selling emu products at the Farmer’s Market since 2000 perhaps said it best, “I think it’s important to support all local businesses. If we don’t look after our own, who’s going to look after us?” 

Kansas arts remission

Kansas might be the state that has the biggest ball of twine, but it recently gained another distinction: Kansas is now the only state without any government funding for the arts.    

 Governor Sam Brownback won a six-month-long battle with the legislature this summer and abolished the Kansas Arts Commission. The justification for his line-item veto: saving taxpayers money by cutting back on unnecessary government expenditures in the 2012 state budget. Instead, Governor Brownback created the Kansas Arts Foundation—a privately funded substitute.

“The governor campaigned last fall on returning the state to core responsibilities such as education and public safety,” said Sherriene Jones-Sontag, a spokeswoman for Mr. Brownback in a New York Times article by Robin Pogrebin. “He believes that the arts should be privately funded.”

The question remains if a private organization will be able to fund Kansas arts. "For every dollar the state contributes to us, the federal government contributes a dollar through the National Endowment for the Arts," as told to Pitch Magazine by Henry Schwaller, chairman of the former Kansas Arts commission. The Mid-America Arts Alliance provided about $400,000 annually, but money from both MAAA and NEA is contingent upon state funds and neither recognizes private arts groups. Without a state commission, Kansas loses out on $1.2 million.

Brownback’s decision has left many Kansans at a loss in more than the fiscal sense. For some, it comes down to the issue of free speech. “The problem with private funding is that donations can come with stipulations,” said University of Kansas student Alex Haslett. But that’s not his only concern. Haslett studies film and theatre at KU and would like to eventually come back to Kansas to start his own regional theater. Without support from the state, he’s not sure if that will be a viable option; he thinks this situation will limit the number of artists who want live in Kansas and any benefits that would come with their presence.

It’s the youths who will be missing out the most according to Juan Gutierrez, psychology major at the University of Kansas. “Arts are important to develop your mind and express yourself. They breed creativity and freethinking so it’s the future that will be hurt,” said Gutierrez. He has another worry on his mind as well: “Without a good arts program we’re going to have a lot more Justin Bieber music and Transformers movies.”

What about other states? Francis Crow, who takes classes at the Lawrence Arts Center, is a fresh transplant from Missouri. He says Missouri is in more of a financial bind than Kansas so he doesn’t understand why Kansas has eliminated the arts commission. Crow said attending a publically funded art high school in Missouri (Paseo Academy) gave him direction and confidence. “The reward is infinite—whatever this risk is, it’s worth it,” said Crow.

For Lawrence resident, Bob Leffler, the arts are an integral part in Kansas’s culture and important to his quality of life. Because the arts commission is out of commission, he’s afraid that people will come to think of Kansans as “a misbegotten bunch of stupid pig-raisers who have no need of culture or the benefits it brings. This is no longer Kansas. This is Brownbakistan.”