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Dawn Osborn, PhD.

After the Rain Comes Environmental Connections

T h e O d y s s e y Spring 2013 After the Rain

Richard Somdah

The B.A. - Believers Association

Jesse Kimball

Sowing The Sky

Atty Garfinkel

Our Coastal Paradise

Jamaica HortonWisdom

in the Water

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The OdysseyC o n t r i b u t o r s

STUDENTSDawn Osborn, PhD.After graduating with her B.A. in Biology in 1994 from the University of California Santa Cruz, Dawn taught marine science at the Monterey Bay Aquarium for five years. She completed an MS in Marine Science in 1999 at the University of California Santa Cruz., where she also earned her PhD in Ocean Sciences in 2005. Dawn lives in Santa Barbara with her two sons, cats, dogs, snakes, lizards, fish and other creatures they collect.

FACULTY

Tara PatrickTara Patrick currently works as the Reuse Director at Art From Scrap, a Santa Barbara based non-profit organization that teaches art awareness through environmental education. She graduated from Antioch in 2010.

COver PhOTO: Jeffrey LovelaceSunrise on Santa Barbara’s East Beach after a storm.

Meryl Peters - Faculty AdvisorMeryl earned her M.F.A. in Creative Writing in 1999 as part of the inaugural M.F.A class of Antioch University Los Angeles. Her short fiction has appeared in various literary magazines, and her novel is currently under consideration. Meryl teaches a cross section of writing and literature classes in the B.A. program at AUSB and is a member of the SBCC English Department. Her personal heroes and first students are her two children from whom she continues to learn as she does from her AUSB writers. Rule #1 in Meryl’s creative classes is “There Are No Rules.”

Jen BaronJen Baron is the Executive Director for Girls Rock SB!, an organization that focuses on building self-esteem and encouraging self-empowerment in young women through music education, collaboration, and performance. She finds inspiration in working with youth and helping girls rock out. Jen’s passion led to the recent creation of her own 2013 album. Jen is also the former head of Creative and Marketing Services for Blue Planet Eyewear.

ALUMNi

Annette GollanAnnette is earning her MA in Educational Leadership and Social Justice. As a poet, she was drawn to education as a way to apply her writing skills through tutoring in adult literacy. Annette hopes to instill in her students, “To not limit themselves, but realize they can live the life they want.”

Samuel Balloui am currently in the Latino Mental Health MACP program here at AUSB. i am originally from indiana. i have lived in several countries, including india and Mexico. in my free time i love playing piano and pipe organ, writing, and traveling. i love languages and cultural experiences. i have a deep interest in existential philosophy, (Buber, Nietzsche, Marcel, Kierkegaard, among others).

Jenna Martinellii grew up in Crescent City California. My passions are photography, being outdoors, traveling and cooking for friends and family. i have been very fortunate to travel to Australia, New Zealand, italy, Spain and the Azores. Thailand is top on my list after i graduate next spring!

Chrys BrobbeyChrys is a graduate of Antioch’s MAOM international Business program. He has published a book of poems and a novel through CreateSpace, and has incorporated an LLC. He now lives in Austin, Texas.

Denise Thorpe-EhelerDenise misses being a student at Antioch where she obtained a Master’s degree in Clinical Psychology and was a Commencement Speaker at the 2012 graduation. She loves working with the elderly and disabled. Denise is currently writing a book that is nonfiction, informational, a light read, and of the humorous genre.

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“Atty” Atsiylah Patricia GarfinkelAtty is a single Mom who plans on earning her masters degree in Public Administration, hopefully with an emphasis in Domestic Violence and international Policy, before she attempts a Juris Doctorate at law school. She wanted to be a social worker for many years, until she discovered they must follow rules instead of make them. She would like to work for the State Department Office of Global Women’s issues and hopes to work with both governments and NGOs to assist in establishing domestic violence shelters and women’s medical and prenatal care centers throughout the world, but specifically in the Middle East/Eurasian areas.

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Richard SomdahRichard is an outgoing, energetic yet calm, kool-collected, athlete/singer/writer enrolled in the B.A. program, majoring in Communication and Media. After growing up in Houston and living in Atlanta and Los Angeles, he has chosen to settle here in Santa Barbara and pursue his education and his passion as an entrepreneurial musician. Motivated by his mom, son, and spirituality, he is ready to take on the world one day at a time.

Jesse KimballAfter bashing his brains against the thick brick wall of the American political system for almost a decade, Jesse now realizes that a good book is more worth his time than a good fight. Turning his attention toward plot and prose, Jesse finds value in profound ideas arrived at through unconventional means. Tracking this elusive creature down is sometimes a hero’s journey, though seekers would do well to search for him buried face first in any novel by George Orwell.

Jamaica Horton

Adieu Antioch

Jeffrey Lovelace (Editor)A monstrously insignificant force in modern American literature, Lovelace is a collection of jarring homogenous contradictions. As a gregariously private person, he strives to eschew obfuscation by living life on the cutting edge of moderation. Some find him unwieldy while others consider him delightful addition to any toolbox. Despite Mr. Lovelace’s consuming paranoia that no one is plotting against him, he remains convinced that he is a figment of his own imagination, especially when forced to write about himself in the third person.

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The Odyssey

Ta b l e o f C o n t e n t s

FiCTiOn16 The Storm Jen Baron

20 The Unknown Katrina Refugee “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

28 A Conspiracy Jeffrey Lovelace

PErSOnAl ESSAy11 The BA Richard Somdah

19 Protecting Our Heritage Jamaica Horton

24 Muddy and Me “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

POETry 7 Wisdom in the Water Jamaica Horton

10 Sunshine and Hope “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

10 Seasons of Life “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

23 Lazy Day “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

27 A Good Day Tara Patrick

35 All That Remains Samuel Ballou

35 Trust Chrys Brobbey

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Ta b l e o f C o n t e n t s

POETryIt’s Spring 35Denise Thorpe-Eheler

Untitled 35Jesse Kimball

COluMnS Another [blank] Day in Paradise 6A Note from the Editor: Jeffrey Lovelace

Our Coastal Paradise 8Staff Picks - Environment: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

Sowing the Sky 12Staff Picks - Tech Trends: Jesse Kimball

Faces of AUSB: Jamaica Horton Cameron Zeidler 14 Hannah Yanow 18 Maria DeAlba 25

Mary Ellen Tiffany 15Trustee Profile: Jeffrey Lovelace

Good People 26Staff Picks - Social Justice: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

Song of Sympathy 32Staff Picks - Local Perspectives: Jesse Kimball

Calling All Writers 33Staff Picks - On Campus: Jeffrey Lovelace

The Spoken Word 34Staff Picks - Entertainment: Jeffrey Lovelace

Antioch Quotes 35

After the Rain Comes Environmental Connections 36Faculty Voice: Dawn Osborn, PhD.

Calendar of Events 38

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Welcome to the spring issue of the Odyssey, the After the Rain Edition. This time of year people in other parts of the country sigh in collective relief as the oppressive clouds and cold of winter yield to sun, heat, and regular thunderstorms. From Main to Montana to Mississippi, April showers bring May flowers, the countryside greens up, and air conditioning runs 24 hours a day.

Not here of course. Spring in Santa Barbara is the opposite of everywhere else. Come April, showers become a rare blessing, and after that the rain takes the rest of spring and summer off. So while spring busts out all over the US, here the wildflowers and hill grasses wither and turn brown.

Even worse, we the get the “May gray” and the “June gloom.” From now until August the fog and low clouds of the coastal marine layer cover us like a cold blanket, and our version of cabin fever begins.

Some days the cloud cover remains so thick and seamless that silver linings can be hard to find, but here are a few: we don’t have to crank up our air conditioning; we don’t have to keep a wary eye toward the hills as the

The OdysseyA Note from the Editor: Jeffrey lovelace

Another [blank] Day in Paradisefog keeps the fire threat low; and if we want sun and heat we can take a day trip to Ojai or Santa Ynez.

Best of all, what could beat spending a gray day in your favorite chair reading the Odyssey? We’ve got stormy short fiction by Jen Baron and Atty Garfinkel. Jesse Kimball describes how scientists might “sow the sky” with sea water to reduce the destructive power of hurricanes. Richard Somdah offers a stirring proposal to the Antioch Community. Professor Dawn Osborn, PhD. promotes environmental advocacy. We have evocative poetry by staff members, MACP student Samuel Ballou, and Alums Tara Patrick, Denise Thorpe-Eheler, and Chrys Brobbey. Jenna Martinelli and Annette Gollan provide some spectacular photographs. in her final quarter at Antioch, Odyssey staff member Jamaica Horton offers an impassioned essay “Protecting our Heritage” and a parallel poem “Wisdom in the Water.” You will find a lot more inside.

So slack off, kick your shoes across the room and enjoy. Who knows, while you read the sun might melt away the gray for the afternoon. in any case, your spirits will rise. Ω

Jeffrey Lovelace

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Wi s d o m i n t h e Wa t e r Poetry: Jamaica Horton

Wisdom in the water The silent existence of lifeEchoes the essence of being

Oceanic wonders abound Shrouded in mystery and depthHer treasures are sought and exploited

Energized society Swirls all aroundWhile quiet little lives are being led along side

Dependency of the species A dreary prospect indeedTo rely on human kindness

Dark and wonderful aquatic sanctuary Our charge to hold and protectSurges deep within my soul This ancient liquid realm—my home

Jeffrey Lovelace

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brought in and grazed in the hills. The bright yellow mustard that so many associate with California is in fact a non-native and invasive species. Spanish figs and palm trees were planted along with many other non-native flora which began to alter the semi-desert like bio-diversity of this area to appear more like the Mediterranean coast that the Spaniards had left behind.

After the Spanish period came the Mexican period, and the mestizo Mexicans of that era had a deeper respect for the natural land than their European predecessors. But like the Spaniards they continued to change the land. While they planted orchards and established farms, they also began the slow process of building up the city and draining much of the laguna or as we call it, the estuary. By the time the American period began the landscape that the early Spanish explorer Cabrillo would have seen when he traversed the Santa Barbara Channel was so changed it is doubtful he would have known the mainland side.

The American period brought our current industrialization and “progress” like motor cars, newspapers, a dump and the wharf. But it has also brought plastics, chemicals and many more people who want to live in this “natural” paradise. That required significant infrastructure including water and waste treatment; and as sometimes happens, Santa Barbara’s population grew faster than the infrastructure could keep up with, and as a result some people began to be less and less respectful of the natural environment, specifically the water-shed and the ocean.

We have all seen the signs at the beach

The OdysseyStaff Picks - Environment: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

O u r C o a s t a l Par a d i s e

Amid the palm trees, the multi-million dollar homes, the phenomenal views, the low income housing, the places we see and those we chose not to see, lies an inconvenient truth. This coastal paradise is as fake as a movie star’s … nose. For thousands of years the indigenous people of coastal California lived in harmony with the land. The home they knew looked very different than what we see today. i don’t mean the buildings and roads, although those are certainly new. i mean the plants and even the landscape.

in Santa Barbara the Barbareno band of Chumash Native American indians lived in multiple villages and nurtured the natural estuary that we now call downtown. if one cares to read the history of the area, the local mission keeps meticulous records that may cause one to stop and reflect on the street names like indio Muerto, Salsepuedas, Laguna and many others. During the Spanish period the botanic diversity of our area began to change as sheep with a myriad of non-native seeds in their dirty wool were

Jeffrey Lovelace

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telling us not to go into the water after a heavy rain. On occasion we see signs that report the beach is closed, or the water is not safe to enter. Have you ever wondered about that? i have. As it turns out there are a few reasons for this post rain paradigm. When the rain washes everything into the storm drains, the storm drains dump their water into the sea, dog poop, diapers, plastic wrappers and all. in addition to this less than delightful tid bit, we have the added dynamic of the area watersheds.

For those who aren’t Environmental Scientists, a watershed is the area of land where all of the water that is under or on it drains off into the same place. in our case that means the hills and lakes to the creeks and the creeks to the ocean. This includes water runoff from farms and ranches. Agricultural water runoff can include benign substances, or it can include nitrogen rich animal waste products, contaminated soil from heavy equipment or even pesticides and fertilizers. So when there is a creek full of waste products of any sort, that is swept into the ocean along with anything

and everything else in the path of the water. Santa Barbara also has a sewer system made of

Vitrified Clay Pipes, which become weak over time as tree roots press on them and cars drive on the roads above them. The result is sewer line breaks, and that waste has been known to end up in the creeks, the streets and storm drains. When this mix of “yucky stuff ” is washed into the ocean after a heavy rain, the bacteria levels can rise to a point that is unsafe for human exposure and the beaches will be closed. But the city and county don’t necessarily test all the ocean water after every rain. Nor do they consistently test every creek in the area.

That is where a local non-profit called “The Channel Keepers” comes in (http://www.sbck.org/). Through their Stream Team volunteers, the Channel Keepers test the area creeks and estuaries once a month as well as after a heavy rain. They serve both southern Santa Barbara County and Ventura, picking up where the local governments and their budgets leave off. With a focus on areas like storm water, low impact development, sewage, oil and gas pollution, agricultural impact, trash in the water, specific polluted sites, water quality monitoring, marine conservation, marine protected areas, public environmental education and clean-ups, this group has rediscovered what the local Chumash have been saying all along. The land is here as a part of the people who live on it.

it is our job to care for and protect the land; and when we are able to we must mitigate the harm that has already been done through our efforts for sustainable environmental justice. Maybe if we all work together and put in just a little bit of extra effort and through living responsibly, we can wash away the need for things like beach closures after the rain. Ω

Jeffrey Lovelace

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The clouds come over the mountains & into my life.

The rain lasts for a season & floods my heart.

When the rain is done the clouds blow away & i am free.

i know the clouds will come again, & they will leave again.

i will not dwell in the rainy seasons of my life.

i will reside in my joy, in the spring that follows the winter.

S u n s h i n e a n d H o p e

Poetry: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

The Odyssey

As sunlight will shine through the scattering rain clouds,

So shall hope shine into each heart after a storm.

As pain, grief and sorrow are parts of life,

So then is the coming of hope.

Await the sun and hope,

After the clouds,

And rain.

Seasons of Life

Jeffrey Lovelace

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Dear Antioch Community:To start i would like to thank you for reading

and participating in this experience of writing and sharing ideas with me through The Odyssey.

i have had an idea on my heart for some time now. Because i think communities like we have here at Antioch are at the forefront of the “free thinking society” that is developing in our nation, i thought i would share with you and solicit some feedback. The idea i’m presenting is called “The BA.” The BA stands for “The Believers Association” and the motto/logo is “BelieveAgain.” This idea originates from my own personal and spiritual development, which has been quite an interesting journey. i would get into my background and explain to you in detail my transformation from ignorant hoodlum to meditating, praying, spiritually minded human being, but that’s a whole different story and today i only want to present my vision for The BA.

America more than any other country in the world houses a vast variety of people from different religions, spiritual practices, and traditions. We enjoy the opinions of those who don’t believe in anything, all the way across the spectrum to those who feel the need to walk the streets shouting their beliefs to others on a daily basis. if our calendar was to adopt and recognize all traditions, we would be on holiday for 50% of the year. But the acceptance and freedom that we have allowed each other as a country makes us work so uniquely that if the idea of who we are now was presented in the past to a group looking to create a nation, they would laugh and say it wouldn’t be possible.

But there is a problem. We as a people do not see the unity we live in. The reality we are shown and thus believe is separated by color, religion, age, sex, income, and the list goes on. imagine the United States as an ocean and there are many islands in it all separated by name: rich, poor, black, white, gay, straight, Baptist, Methodist, atheist, Muslim, handicapped, mentally disabled, young, old, beautiful, ugly, short, tall, etc. With our eyes blinded we accept this false reality and allow it to rob us of the unity we already share. We sit on our separate islands judging what we do not understand

The BA Personal Essay: richard Somdah

and isolating in hopes of feeling safe and justified. i remember hearing my dad who is from

Cameroon once speak about separate but equal, and how if we just let everyone stick to their own side of the fence we would be fine. But if i have learned anything in life it’s that there is no equality in separation. My solution to the problem in our country is one word…Tolerance. That is what The BA is about. Believe whatever you choose to believe, just believe it again and this time add tolerance. it’s just that simple. Tolerance is a sturdy bridge connecting every island to the next allowing for a truly free exchange of ideas and beliefs without fear, hate, and discrimination.

The idea I’m presenting is called “The BA...The Believers Association...”

America does not need terrorist attacks or natural disasters to come together and love each other. We need a reminder that the veil of division has already been lifted. if we blink a few times and clear our mind’s eye, we could see. That reminder is “The BA.” it’s not some radical movement challenging the establishment, causing murder and mayhem in the form of a revolution. We the “free thinkers” have already won. The mental capacity to critically analyze our surroundings and ask why, not taking anything at face value while pursuing passion and love instead of materialism and individual success, is our victory. And with The BA we would now have a place to connect and grow.

My vision is a clothing line as a symbol and a website as a place to go and express free ideas to better our nation and its people, a place to talk religion, a place to share music, a place to go and connect with other parts of the world where the people don’t have a voice and need to be heard, a place to share all things as long as the main ingredient is tolerance.

This is my vision, my pursuit of passion, a movement for the people by the people and i would love to know what you think. Email me, send feedback, your visions, your ideas and lets turn dreams into action. rsomdah@antioch.edu Ω

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The Odyssey

The rains of Hurricane Sandy have finally washed out the eyes and ears of enough Americans to begin a long overdue conversation about global climate change. The rise of super storms crashing against the eastern shoreline of the United States in recent decades removes all credible doubt over the rising temperatures roasting our atmosphere. Meteorologists have long known of the correlation between warm ocean waters and hurricane formation, and this connection was only reinforced as storm strength and frequency increased alongside atmospheric temperature trends. Every day that passes without action to curb these trends places our planet into further peril. Skepticism must not be an excuse for stubbornness and delay, especially when the evidence piling up before us is the ruined rubble of our coastal cities. Fortunately, scientists don’t need congressional approval to brainstorm. A new proposal is making the rounds of the scientific community on the subject of “cloud seeding.” inside Climate News describes the basic idea as a process of saturating the air around warm ocean patches with seawater droplets dispersed from

drones. That mist would then raise the brightness and opacity of newly forming cloud systems, preventing the sun’s rays from warming the waters by reflecting them back into space. in principle, this process carries the potential of depleting storms of their fuel, capping their strength by up to two categories. Pause a moment, and consider how much better New Orleans would have fared had Katrina been only half the size, and you can see the promise of such research. This is not to say that such a proposal does not carry concern and controversy along with it. The foremost of these challenges is the logistical problem of enacting such a solution. The number of drones needed to saturate a large enough area, in a small enough window of opportunity, is beyond our current capabilities. Hundreds of miles worth of ocean must to be blanketed with mist in order to produce a dependable effect. The cost of developing such a massive fleet would be in the billions, and this is not even taking into account the costs of maintenance and operational training. Furthermore, the seeding process would need to be performed continuously starting from May, since this is when hurricane conditions emerge as the oceans warm. Clouds are also minimal in the tropical regions most likely in need of treatment. Without reliable cloud cover the drones would have limited effect, as most of the operation would consist of chasing after every miniscule cloud available. These are the kinds of organizational challenges that give air traffic controllers and U.S. Air Force engineers sweaty, shivering, and sleepless nights. Of course, settling the question of “could” also does not always resolve the riddle of “should.” Many people sympathetic to the problem of climate change

Sowing the SkyStaff Picks - Tech Trends: Jesse Kimball

Jenna Martinelli

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would balk at the terraforming involved in this proposal. There’s no putting the cheese-whiz back in the can, and once the mist is dispersed into the atmosphere, there is little that can be done to predict any permanent changes to ocean weather patterns. Murphy’s Law suggests that even if we succeeded in knee-capping future Category 5 hurricanes, the disruption to eons-old sea current cycles could produce catastrophic changes that exceed the immediate dangers of super storms. Mass extinction of ocean life due to interference in migration and mating patterns could lead to a global food crisis that would turn the looting of flat-screen TV’s into a quaint throwback to more innocent times. Disruptions of the ocean’s natural current cycles are not the only danger involved with this approach. Their enormous destructive powers aside, hurricanes are important sources of fresh water for many coastal regions, especially those far from major rivers. The Amazon in South America would be in particular danger of rainfall loss if the cloud seeding program goes awry. While the cloud seeding study’s authors, Alan Gadian and John Latham, argue that these concerns over rainfall loss can be addressed if seeding sites are “selected judiciously,”

the fact remains that the nature of ocean cloud patterns and sea currents still eludes us. Sadly, like many other plans to tackle the problems of climate change and super storms, the idea of cloud seeding is likely to blow over. The low chances of success and the high risks of failure (along with unplanned collateral damage) prevent cloud seeding from revolutionizing our approach to hurricane season. What is needed most to solve the problem is comprehensive and global reform of our manufacturing and transportation systems. Without severe reductions in greenhouse gas emissions, temperatures will continue to rise across the world’s oceans and birth hurricanes of horror each and every spring to summer. However, it is cutting edge research like cloud seeding technology that will lead the way in advancing our knowledge of the planet’s plight. Perhaps the seeds that most need to be planted belong not in the skies, but in our own minds. Ω

http://insideclimatenews.org/news/20121024/hur-r i c ane s - g l ob a l - w ar m i ng - c l i mate - change - s c i e n -tists-cloud-seeding-geoengineering-storms-temperatures

Jeffrey Lovelace

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The Odyssey

if you’ve ever driven through a tropical rainstorm, you’ll have noticed two very different themes. Simultaneously there is the torrential downpour, which strikes determinedly into the earth, mixed with the rapturous splendor of the sun peeking through the scattered clouds. This is Cameron Zeidler. He is an ideal blend of focused drive and idealistic optimism; the sun and the rain in perfect combination.

Cameron is a dedicated student, you might even call him an over-achiever, but he’d be just fine with that. As a second year PsyD student, he’s embraced that aspect of his personality. “i’ve been this way my whole life; i’m not going to change that about myself now.” And although he has been the target of plenty of teasing for this quality, he doesn’t consider it a negative thing. “it’s not about doing more than i need too. i just think you should take advantage of every opportunity presented.” This is one of the many reasons Cameron chose Antioch. “i want to learn how to be as expert of a psychologist as i can. To be expert is to be as effective as possible, so that i can really

make a difference.” A kind and compassionate soul, Cameron,

was called to his career after an experience with his mother and the healthcare industry left him feeling like “the medicine was there, but a sensitivity chip was missing. i want to put that sensitivity back into the helping profession.” And so, with this thought in mind he is whole-heartedly devoted to his degree and profession. However, he doesn’t want to narrow his learning, and therefore his opportunities, to a single concentration because, “i like the possibilities to be limitless.” This is because he wants, “…to impact as many people as i feasibly can, but to do it in a truly capable way.” He takes on the quote “With great power comes great responsibility” (from Spiderman via Voltaire) as a personal motto. He feels that if he is going to have an effect on other’s lives than he’d better have the respect to be as skilled and complete in this impact as possible. “i want to back up that power with all the knowledge and expertise i can.”

He also cares about the University’s character too. He encourages his fellow classmates to, “Do the best you can, so we stay on the map as a university and as individual psychologists. The more we do as students the more prestige we can have for our university.” He says it isn’t about making a name for himself, or our celebrated school, rather, “it’s about adding to the legacy, contributing to the history of our devoted faculty, who energize the students and bring real life to the campus.” He is a firm believer in bringing your best possible self to any endeavor and letting whatever is already in you shine out. Here at Antioch he feels he has found a perfect place to do that.

As you can see Cameron takes his chosen role seriously, putting himself wholly into being the perfected professional who lets himself be led viscerally to those places, people, and possibilities that are his to own—an ideal mix of drive and heart. Ω

Cameron ZeidlerFaces of AUSB: Jamaica Horton

Courtesy Cameron Zeidler

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Mary Ellen TiffanyTrustee Profile: Jeffrey lovelace

“Over the years i assembled a bucket list,” says Antioch Trustee Mary Ellen Tiffany in a recent interview, “And moving to Santa Barbara was one of my goals.” Today Mary Ellen Tiffany is not only a well-known leader in Santa Barbara’s banking and nonprofit circles she is also a Trustee of Antioch University Santa Barbara. Her path to our fair city and school took her on her own odyssey that covered our country from east to west, north to south.

Ms. Tiffany spent her childhood in New York, New Jersey, and Massachusetts. She graduated from prestigious Smith College with a Bachelor’s Degree in Economics. Unlike most Smith Grads, however, she took a break after high school before enrolling in junior college. Ms. Tiffany transferred to Smith after earning her Associates Degree. “So i appreciate Antioch’s mostly older ‘nontraditional’ students.”

After college, Ms. Tiffany moved to Alaska where she worked as a special assistant in the area of trade and energy issues for Governor Steve Cowper. “My job was to coordinate with the offices of the other western governors to build consensus on major issues affecting western states.”

From Alaska, Ms. Tiffany moved to the opposite corner of the country. She held leadership positions at a performing arts center and at a museum in Fort Myers, Florida. Her career in financial services began there as well in NationsBank’s Trust Department. She earned a dream job with SunTrust Bank Southwest as the Market Manager of their private Sanibel-Captiva branch. What could top living on beautiful Sanibel island? You guessed it.

Ms. Tiffany finally fulfilled her goal of relocating to Santa Barbara after landing a position as the Director of Major Gifts at The Foundation for Santa Barbara City College. Local philanthropist and bank owner Michael Towbes then invited Ms. Tiffany to join Montecito Bank and Trust after witnessing her excellent work at C.C.; of course her strong background

in banking, education, and non-profits helped as well. Ms. Tiffany is currently a vice president, business development officer for the Bank.

Ms. Tiffany has also served on the boards of the Santa Barbara Symphony, Path Point, inc., Parks & Recreation Community Foundation, and the Santa Barbara Maritime Museum. When invited to join Antioch’s Board of Trustee’s she leapt at the opportunity. “My son MacLean is an Antioch graduate.”

Ms. Tiffany expressed her deep admiration for AUSB President Nancy Leffert, and for the rest of the Board of Trustees. She commended the progress made by the school over the past several years, as exemplified by the new Santa Barbara campus. “But what MacLean and i appreciate most about Antioch is the experiential component of the curriculum.”

With all of her accomplishments, professional responsibilities, and community involvements, you might think that Mary Ellen Tiffany has settled into the perfect groove. Remember that bucket list?

“i’ve always wanted to take time off to travel around the world, and on Wednesday i’m flying to Thailand.” She explained that her employer granted her a six month sabbatical, and the nonprofit boards, including Antioch, have offered leaves of absence as well. “i don’t even have any hotel reservations, i’ll just make it up as i go.”

We at Antioch are grateful for Mary Ellen Tiffany’s leadership, vision, and dedication to our school. All of her impressive qualifications aside, perhaps her fearless curiosity and self-reliance make her such a perfect fit for the AUSB board. We wish her good luck on her adventure and look forward to hearing tales from her next odyssey. Ω

Courtesy AUSB

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The Odyssey

The StormFiction: Jen Baron

us side by side around Ardsley Park when we were babies. i don’t think there’s a time i could remember when i didn’t know the Potters.

You know how with some people you just spect they’ll be real close? Not us. Adelaide, our housekeeper, was always commenting on how odd it was we were friends at all. i was rough and square and often mistaken for a boy because of my short hair, while Jess was all pigtails and curls. She crossed her legs and dotted her i’s with pink little hearts that i used to daydream were floating, like rafts, home from a deserted island. Every word out of her mouth was, “yes please” and “Thank you ma’am”. No one could explain us to no one.

“Don’t know what that child sees in you, but you’s could learn a thing or two from her.” Adelaide would scorn.

i jump off the bed and kick open the screen door. i tilt my head back and open my mouth. Rain leaps across my nose. i close my eyes and feel the water ski down the slopes on my skin. My hair is soaked now. i open my eyes to see Jess right in front of me. i flip my head over and shake my hair out at her, laughing.

“Come with me!” i grab Jessie’s hand and yank her through the back gate.

“Ok. Ok. Hold up!” She hollers, breathless. “i’ve got the best idea! Don’t move. Close

your eyes.” i grab two inner tubes from the back porch and appear in front of her. “Tada! Open!” i exclaim.

“No way!”i lower my eyelids slightly,“No way, Liv. No.”i peak up at her, but only for a second.“it looks dangerous, we’ll get in trouble.”“We won’t get in trouble. Please, PLEASE!”

i beg. “i’m so bored, aren’t you bored?” She tilts her head like a dog when it’s trying to understand you. Her

The sky is as black as burnt toast. We press our noses against the metal screen of the porch, watching, until we see it, one single drop. it falls from the sky and lands in a perfect plié on the sidewalk.

“Another storms comin.” Jessie murmurs under her breath like words getting chewed up in the grooves of a record player. Steam rises and then without even missing a beat, the sky opens up and seems to swallow us whole. i fling my body on the bed closest to the window.

“Prolly could find one of momma’s looseys, wanna smoke?” i sputter. Jessie rests her perfectly chiseled chin in her hand rolling her eyes at me and then quietly responds.

“Why do you ask me things you’ll ready know the answer to? “ i consider this for a moment. i scoot myself to the edge of the bed and run my fingers through my short, mousy brown hair.

“i like to bug you, i reckon.”Jessica Potter and i had lived across the street

from each other since…forever. Our papa’s worked down on the line together and our mama’s often strolled

Jeffrey Lovelace

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green eyes begin to roll back into her head but then like a slip and slide, swoosh, to meet mine. i’ve won. i know i’ve won. This is my cue; i grab her hand and run like a Clydesdale, plowing through the gate, galloping out to the edge of the driveway. We place the inner tubes in the water and jump on, riding the flood down, down, down, until we spin out and around at the bottom of our street where Mr. Thompson’s old Buick and Missy Thurwinter’s prize Ford Falcon are all but drownin. i glance at Jessie. Her auburn hair is sopping wet. She’s smiling one of her hundred different smiles. “See? i told you Jessica Pottter. Fun huh?” i drape my hand in the water and send a big splash in her direction. Her eyes light up like the 4th of July. i abandon my floatation device and swim for Missy’s car. it is the shiniest car on the block, like glossy red movie star lips. Jessie said Missy Thurwinter used to date Clark Gable, but Mama insists she’s married to a big oil tycoon down in Louisiana. Either way, we’re not supposed to associate ourselves with her.

When i reach the Falcon i climb on top and push myself to standing. “i’m the queen of Savannah and you’re my princess.” i scream to Jessie. i gesture for her hand and she obediently swims over to join me. When she reaches the Falcon i pull her up and place my hands on her cheeks. “You are my princess!” i repeat and lean in, pressing my lips against hers tightly. We are frozen. i can feel her eyelids flutter against mine and a world of wonder floods my brain like the rain has flooded our small southern street. After what feels like forever, our eyes lock and then before either of us can say anything we’re falling, falling, falling. Our bodies punch two perfect holes in the soft roof of the Falcon. i can’t breathe. i open my eyes to murky brown and feel a slight sting. Jessie is fumbling next to me trying to open the passenger side door. i swim to the small surface space quickly disappearing and gasp for air. i duck back under and grab Jessie’s shoulders and again press my mouth to hers and breathe warm summer

into her lungs. “Olivia?!” i hear the distance of my mother’s

voice squealing like fingers on a chalkboard. My lungs feel like squeezed lemons and before i know it my mind goes black, i know nothing. When i come to, Mr. Thompson is carrying me over his shoulder. My eyes are darting like bullets. Where is she? My mother pulls me on the grass and scoops me into her arms.

“Where is she?” The storm seems to have lulled and little drops in sunshine sprinkle the ground around me. i fight for my mom to let me go, but her grip is tight, tighter than i’ve ever felt anyone’s arms around me before. “Oh God. Please let her live, i will do anything!” i plead.

Missy Thurwinter is standing on her front lawn in a red and white polka dotted sundress and smoking her cig. She is as composed as a mountain lion. And then i see her, see her snow-white legs hanging limp in the crook of Mr. Thompson’s arms. See her father rushing into the lake that is our street. All i can hear is screaming. And then i hear my own voice whaling against the orchestra of “No! No! No!” swirling around me. The rain ensues and suddenly everything is so loud it is quiet. Flashing lights pour over the pavement like disco balls. My mother’s fingers ravage through my hair as i lay still. i can see the heat breathe, slowly expanding and contracting my world. i watch the firemen place an oxygen mask over Jessie’s mouth, feel the shiver of prayer. My body is freezing. i’m shaking. And then i see it, Jessie’s eyes jolt, i see her chest rise and fall and then she is choking and spitting up gulps of water, throwing up the ocean on Missy Thurwinters front lawn.

i am shaking even harder now, but there is relief. Two firefighters make there way over to me, but i assure them i’m fine. They ignore me. Sailing in the sky above me a white sheet falls. i can see the dark tall frames of their bodies from underneath and in that moment i know. Ω

18

The Odyssey

Like a shot of pure sunshine, Hannah Yanow has come to brighten the halls of Antioch’s Santa Barbara Campus. Traveling down from San Francisco, Hannah went in search of bluer skies and fresh opportunities. She discovered both here in our lively, little, coastal town. Having heard about Antioch from a former Alum, she enrolled in the Master of Arts in Clinical Psychology (MACP) program. Through it, she says she has finally found the “Exchange of ideas and discussion that she’s been seeking.” She loves her classes because they “Challenge her core beliefs and inspire her to stretch her mind and further her own thinking.” Regarding her fellow cohort members she says, “They’re great. i was worried about meeting people here, i had heard there were a lot of un-genuine people in Santa Barbara, but i don’t know if it’s just been my luck or if it’s because Antioch is awesome, but i have been meeting the right people.” Perhaps, it’s a bit of both?

Upon graduation Hannah would like to work with veterans. She says that growing up in the 9/11 era impacted her view of warfare and played a role in her development, “Terrorism was always kind of looming in the background. i hated it, and felt

Hannah YanowFaces of AUSB: Jamaica Horton

powerless to do anything about it, but i always knew i wanted to be a part of the recovery.” She solidified this belief when she took her birthright trip to israel last March. There, she was able to interact with israeli soldiers and enjoyed being a part of that community. She even applied and was accepted into the Crisis and Trauma Studies program at Tel Aviv University. But due to personal and safety reasons, the political climate and conflict that happened in October, she decided to come to Santa Barbara instead. “Coming to paradise was the best alternative.”

Besides being an attentive student, Hannah is also the newest addition to the Writing Center family. She is thoroughly enjoying her position and says, “i’ve never felt so engaged in a job before.” When i asked her what she loves most, she replied, “The give-and-take of academic ideas in an objective way yet, it’s also subjective because we are learning from our discourse.” She firmly believes the best way to learn is to teach and she gets the chance to engage in both by working at the Writing Center. “Plus, we totally get to geek out about writing!” it’s true, we do.

Hannah, who is also a deep believer in http://www.rainymood.com/ for those times when life overwhelms and you just can’t get to sleep at night, wants her fellow students to recognize, “Life is life; it is self-defining—the good, the bad, awkward, ugly, beautiful, and uncomfortable. They are all acceptable and necessary.” She knows that sometimes your hopes, dreams, or plans are squelched by the happenings of life, but her approach is to accept it for what it is and learn as much as possible. And when it gets really tough? “Go run around outside and be crazy in any weather—rain or shine!” Ω

Courtesy Hannah Yanow

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Protecting Our HeritagePersonal Essay: Jamaica Horton

i cup my hands and dip them into the ocean. i raise them up, filled with water, bringing along a whole world of existence. i emerge from the sea’s murky depths and as i towel off, i displace a whole society of microscopic beings. As i dig my toes into the sand beneath me, i brush against the life buried deep within. There is magic, energy, life, and matter in these dark and wondrous waters. Why i was so unaware of this before, i do not know. i feel as though the “wool has been lifted from my eyes.” i can’t help but wonder if this is how the biblical Adam and Eve felt when they ate the proverbial “apple” from the Tree of Knowledge. i realize i am truly seeing my world for the first time.

All this new knowledge leads me to begin to grasp how truly dependent we are on one another. We, these separate and distinct species, are intertwined and connected in ways we can’t even imagine. And because of this dependency we, the human community, need to step up to protect and preserve this spectacular ball of existence. Whether, by design or evolution, we are the leaders of planet Earth and it is our charge to care for, in a responsible and sustainable way, all the many different life forms found in our world.

My heart has been made aware of how truly spectacular and incredible is the oceanic world. i now feel, deep in my soul, this protectiveness and urgency to act on behalf of my seafaring neighbors. i see how vital it is to preserve a respectful balance for them. And since we are insistent on messing with this marine society, then we need to be responsible for keeping it healthy and in a state of harmony, so all the thousands of species who make their habitats inside the great oceans can live their lives wholly and

fully the way Nature and/or God intended them to. Ocean conservation shouldn’t be a political or

ideological thing. if you are a spiritual, or religious person, then you should want to protect and take care of the world as God created it and if you are an Academic, (not implying that the two are mutually exclusive) then you should understand the science behind the urgency for stopping the pollution and destruction of our marine life.

My point is, no matter what your beliefs, there is no excuse to not take up the mantle of ocean conservancy and make changes within your own life to preserve, protect, and prevent further destruction of our magnificent marine world. After all, we came from this ancient liquid realm, many, many eons ago and thus, we should take care of our birthplace. For me, this conviction has been solidified in my core and i am now taking active steps in my everyday life to enact these principles. Won’t you please consider doing the same? Ω

http://ocean.nationalgeographic.com/ocean/take-action/10-things-you-can-do-to-save-the-ocean/

Jamaica Horton

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The Odyssey

The Unknown Katrina RefugeeFiction: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

too. “We gonna have to sleep with one eye on the water tonight Buddy ma boy.” warned Miss Genève, as she rose to throw some strips of paper and cardboard on the fire’s glowing embers. The earth had become damp and there was a chill that hurt my bones. Miss Genève wrapped her aged Creole arms around me and we tried to hug the cold away.

i woke to the sound of winds howling like i had never heard them before. Miss Genève was packing up her camp. “i gonna go up to the high ground with them fool city folks Buddy. You should come too.” We began the arduous walk through the city streets to the hills above New Orleans. Businesses were boarding up their windows, restaurants were closed and there was a strange sound, or perhaps it was the lack of sound. There was no yelling, or laughing, or swearing. There was no music or the clanking of bottles. There was only the sound of rain and wind and hammers and cars as they left the city.

People were talking about evacuation notices and some people were leaving while others scoffed at them. By the time Miss Genève and i had walked to the stadium where the New Orleans Saints played football, there was a line. i waited with Miss Genève for a while. As time went by and the day drug on i felt my concern lessen. Miss Genève was fine and i could always find a dry place to sleep somewhere. So as she spoke to a woman with a clip board i slipped away. She turned and saw me leave, and for a moment as our eyes connected, i had a feeling of dread. Was this to be the last time we saw one another? But as quickly as the thought crossed my mind she smiled and turned back to the woman with the clip board.

The days passed and the rain kept coming and then the unthinkable happened; the levees broke. Sea

i was living on the streets of New Orleans when the rains came. it was a rough life and i was always running or fighting or hiding from one danger or another. But when you don’t have your family, life is different than when you do. i know it sounds cliché but i was in the French quarter when the rains began. The cooks at the restaurants there would always spare some left overs for those of us living in the shadows and alleys. When the skies turned grey i didn’t think much of it. We always had storms and living through hurricanes was nothing new to anyone living on the Gulf.

i made my way to an old bridge beside the levee to get out of the rain. The smell of a campfire greeted me and the sound of Miss Genève’s voice welcoming me made my wet evening much better. “Buddy! Get yourself over here and get warmed up ya ‘ol rascal! Where the hell have you been hiding?” Miss Genève always had something boiling in her cook pot and a warm place to sleep for me. She never tried to get me washed up or to cut my hair. She always loved me just as i was.

After i dried off by the fire i crawled into Miss Genève’s bedroll with her and snuggled in for the night. Sometime after midnight i heard a noise. it was a strange rustling kind of grunting noise. At first i thought my bedmate was snoring, but then as my eyes adjusted to the dark i saw them on the banks of the levee. it was wild pigs rooting around in the dirt. “Them damn hogs is gonna bust up that levee one day. i wish some‘un would jes eat ‘em up!” Miss Geneve’s voice startled me, but it was the level of the river that had me worried. When we had gone to sleep we were at least 20 feet from the river bank, but now we looked to be 15 feet at most. Miss Genève seemed to notice it

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water came rushing into New Orleans mixing with the brackish Bayou water and the fresh river water. Soon the familiar places were gone and people began to die. When the flood came i was swept away from my hiding place in a church’s doorway. it was only through sheer luck that i floated by an apartment, and it was even more luck that i was able to crawl onto a second floor stairwell. As i made my way to the roof the residents barely noticed me. We all sat on that roof together in the rain, looking to the sky for fear of what we would see in the flooded streets.

Finally the rain stopped and the helicopters began to fly low over the roofs of what had once been New Orleans. They dropped water and counted survivors, but no one rescued us. My black neighbors swam through the polluted water to find supplies and the helicopters asked them on their loud speakers not to loot. No such requests were made of the few white artist types who were on the roofs mere blocks away. But finally, the rescue helicopters came. When they came to our roof the women and children were taken first. The next day the helicopter came back for the men. They loaded the passengers, but when they were all on and i walked towards the helicopter i heard the co-pilot asked the pilot “What about him?” The pilot turned to look at me and shook his head. The sliding door closed and they flew away. i was left on the roof alone and for 2 days as the helicopters flew overhead i cried out and ran around trying to get their attention. Some pointed, a few looked like they might stop but in the end they all flew on.

On the 5th day on the roof, hunger finally drove me to action and i began to swim. i swam the direction that the helicopters were flying and i stopped to rest at every few buildings. The water smelled like death and sewer, but i kept jumping in. The snakes and alligators had laid claim to the city while the water was high and i was terrified. My legs grew sore, but i swam on. i found a roof where the people had already been rescued but

they had left their food behind. i could smell the food through the plastic wrapper, but i was hungry and it just didn’t matter anymore.

i slept on that roof over night and began to swim again the following morning. Shortly after mid-day i made it. i came to a neighborhood where the flooding had only been minor and the water was already going down. A little girl was the first to see me and she must have seen the thirst and hunger in my eyes. She called me over and shared her ham and cheese sandwich and her water with me. i don’t know if i had ever tasted anything quite so delicious in my life. i gave that girl a kiss and closed my eyes right there on the muddy grass. i fell asleep and when i woke the kind little girl and her family was gone. i began to search for the one person that i knew would accept and care for me, Miss Genève.

i didn’t know where to look but i thought she must be where ever there were the most people. i

We all sat on that roof together in the rain, looking to the sky for fear of what we would see in the flooded streets.

followed the crowds to a tent city. No one noticed me as i walked silently beside rows and rows of people, peeking into tents as i went. i heard the northerners talking and they said something about the football stadium and evacuating the survivors. Miss Genève had been at the stadium. i had to find out more. Where was my friend?

i followed a Red Cross worker into a very large tent. it was a make shift hospital. i wandered down the aisles of dozens of beds. “Buddy, is that you? C’mon over here you rascal. You come in time to say goodbye to ol’ Genève. That’s good; you brung me some happy times boy. You jes’ sit here with me for a spell, will ya?” Miss Genève’s voice cracked and was soft but it was enough to draw me to her bedside. She closed her eyes. Her shallow breath rattled in a way that made me cry.

Cont’d on Page 22

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The OdysseyThe Unknown Katrina Refugee - Cont’d

When it stopped i put my head on her bed and closed my eyes.

i don’t know how long i sat there beside Miss Genève’s body before a nurse finally noticed me. Then she looked at Miss Genève and saw that she was gone. She tried to pull me away, but i was not going to leave Miss Genève’s side. The nurse pulled again and i let out a guttural howling scream. As the nurse ran to get help i climbed into Miss Genève’s bed and laid my head on her breast as i had done so many times before. By the time the doctor and security came to take me away i was willing to be led.

The doctor was a young woman from California. Her kindness and compassion towards me were

hamburger, bowls, water and newspaper. He decided if he had to keep me for the day he may as well feed me, but what the purpose of the newspaper was i do not know.

When the doctor came several hours later, she had another woman with her. “Clarissa, this is the dog i was telling you about. i think he is a German-Shepherd cross but you would know better than i.”

The doctor’s companion looked at me doubtfully and finally spoke “He looks like he’s been through the ringer. Does he appear to be aggressive?”

The guard and the doctor looked at each other nervously. “He was defensive of his owner, but he didn’t bite or anything and we haven’t seen any unprovoked aggression, have we?” The guard added to the doctor’s comments with “if i could have a pet in my apartment i’d take him home myself. He’s a real gem.”

The visitor looked at me doubtfully and lifted my lip with a gloved hand. She stepped back quickly and spoke as she inhaled “That dog is a wolf!” Everyone looked at me in shock. “i can’t place him, but i can turn him over to a release program.”

That night the woman gave me a shot and i fell asleep. When i woke i was in a wild animal evaluation center in Montana. For the next 3 weeks i was watched and allowed to hunt. The first animal they put into the 1 acre pen with me was a young wild hog. i remembered what Miss Genève had said about hogs destroying the levees. i wasn’t going to let that little hog cause another flood.

After i killed the pig, they began putting different kinds of animals in the pen for me to hunt. Eventually they let me loose in a place they called Yellowstone. A helicopter flew over head the day after they let me go. it flew off shortly after it spotted me. i supposed New Orleans must be that direction, so that is the direction i set off. The rain was over, the flood would be gone and it was time to go home. Ω

refreshing as she asked the security guard “What will you do with him?” The security guard shrugged “i’m not sure. Usually we would just call someone to take him away, but with Katrina and all i don’t think the right authorities are even around. i guess shooting him would be the kindest thing to do given the situation.”

The shocked look on the doctor’s face was a point in my favor. “NO! You can’t just go shoot a dog for defending his owner’s body! Do you have a place you can put him for now? i’m sure there is a group to help with the displaced pets in disasters.”

The security guard drug me towards a trailer and shoved me inside. He left but soon returned with a

Kim Darling

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Raindrops hang on the spider’s web like shimmering bits of glass,

catching the few beams of light that manage to fight their way through the clouds.

The applause of thousands of tiny drops of water on the roof dances in my ears.

i rock the baby in my arms to the natural music of spring.

The bread in the pan blows its soft aroma throughout the room,

And the pie slows its happy bubbling as the cherry juice congeals and it cools.

Warmth wraps its blessed arms around me and i close my eyes.

i want to remember this moment of contentment.

i will go do those things i need to do later.

i will be productive when it stops raining.

For now i will gaze out the window at the budding green of springtime.

i will revel in the light dancing in the drops on the spider’s web.

i will smile and be content in this moment, for this moment.

Lazy DayPoetry: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

Jeffrey Lovelace

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The Odyssey

in 1969 Electric Blues man Muddy Waters (McKinley Morganfield) released an album titled After the Rain. That album was 39 minutes and 11 seconds of enlightenment for me. i first found the record in my aunt’s collection when i was about 12 years old and i thought there was no one in the world who could understand what it was that i was feeling, but somewhere between “i Am The Blues” and “Hurtin’ Soul” i found an ally that understood me in a Mississippi bluesman who was an old man by the time i came along and “discovered” him. Although it was not a new album by the time i fell in love with it, none of my friends seemed to understand my newfound passion for Muddy Waters. To them he was just an old musician. But to me, he had become a friend. i saw a man who had lived through real oppression, who understood how i was feeling, was raised by a hard working grandmother, and came up from very little and redefined music. i began to view him as two different people. There was Muddy Waters the phenomenal musician, and Muddy, my friend. All of my friends loved the Rolling Stones, BB King, Foghat and Eric Clapton but no one cared that they drew their inspiration from Muddy Waters. No one understood Muddy’s pain except for me, just as Muddy was the only one who understood me.

i began to collect Muddy Waters records (not CDs we used to have these large vinyl things called records) and to listen very closely to the attempts of other artists to cover any of his songs. The Stones and Jimmi Hendrix did a good job, but lacked the same depth of soul. i devoured any written interviews i could find. i took up the guitar, just like Muddy. But still something was lacking. Then i found a ‘45 single from 1948 called i Can’t Be Satisfied. in this song Muddy tells a woman that he is leaving to go back to the South and basically makes it clear that no matter what he does or she does, he can’t be satisfied. That was when it dawned

Muddy and MePersonal Essay: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

on me; he never looked for the positive in his life, and neither did i. My life at 12 years old wasn’t that bad. i was feeling out of place and resentful of not having a choice about the things that went on in my life, just like Muddy. He had been married and divorced many times, had likely dozens of children from groupies across the world, but he was always chasing after the joy he had felt as a child playing in the muddy water near his grandmother’s house. He was imperfect and only human. i realized that was my problem exactly. i was chasing the past rather than learning to accept the present or plan for the future.

That night i cried a little bit and held my Muddy Waters records for a while. Then i put them away and decided that while the past is a huge part of who i am, i must embrace it as a part of me rather than trying to get back to it. My imaginary Muddy and i came to the realization that it was time for us both to be happy.

in 1969 Muddy Waters released an album called After the Rain and it changed my life. it empathized with me and caused me to reflect on why i was feeling the way i was. That album brought an end to my internal rain. Because of that album, in my heart, it was Muddy and me against the world. Ω

Photo by Jeffrey Lovelace

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Maria DeAlba is an energetic and remarkable woman who knows a little something about journeying through the rain. A full time student, who has just completed her BA in Liberal Arts, she is looking forward to the bright promises that come after a heavy rainfall. However, this optimistic outlook on the future hasn’t always been the case for her. Maria, never one to do things in a typical fashion, didn’t come to the decision to get educated through the traditional means of, what’s the next step in life—oh, college questioning. No, her’s is a story of torrential proportion. “What i am trying to accomplish here at Antioch stems from [a] personal goal i had set for myself long ago, mainly when i was sitting in a prison cell.” That’s right Maria got her call to higher education while she was incarcerated.

She is indeed a phenomenon, fighting through the downpour of odds and statistics working against her, so that she can provide a better life for herself, her family, and her community. She credits this goal to her compulsive reading, “i became fascinated with all the books i was reading in prison, and was really moved by the stories people had. i was spending twelve hour days reading the Los Angeles times while in solitary confinement.” She continues, “i was hooked through the stories, the politics, and the rants… i found myself indulged in other people’s lives and the problems they were facing.” As Maria began to look outside her own problems she realized that she truly cared about what was happening in her world and around the globe. it was then she decided, “. . . if i ever got out of prison i was going to attempt school. i thought that if i made it through college i might be able to help all the rejects, such as myself, i was reading about; maybe not them in particular but people who were suffering similar atrocities and tribulations.” Maria not only got out, got educated, and got her degree, but she is continuing

her education by beginning her MA in psychology, with a concentration in Latino Mental Health here at Antioch this June.

When i asked her what she has planned for the bright sunny days of life after school she says, “i am hoping to acquire as much knowledge as i possibly can in order that i share it with the rest of my people. People in my family, people in my neighborhood, and most importantly the many disadvantaged people in my community.” She is also insistent that this understanding isn’t just for her benefit. “i’m at Antioch to facilitate, implicate, and encourage learning in others that do not have the privilege to do so.” This is Maria DeAlba, a passionate and vocal believer in helping those in her community, one who has seen a lifetime of storms yet chooses to continue on till the clouds part and the golden future comes shinning down. Ω

Maria DeAlbaFaces of AUSB: Jamaica HortonAfTer The rAin

Courtesy of Maria DeAlba

26

The Odyssey

Good PeopleSocial Justice: “Atty” Atsiylah Patricia Garfinkel

We often think of ourselves as “good people” who oppose bigotry and will advocate for the underdog. in our own minds the rainstorms and hard times suffered by others will be followed by rainbows and sunshine. Good will prevail over evil and love conquers all. But many of us don’t know and don’t care to know how others in our community are wronged.

Goleta (and Santa Barbara) has a small but loyal Sunni Muslim population. These locals meet in the Goleta Valley Community Center to worship because they have no house of worship of their own. The issue is not their numbers, or finances or even acquisition of the land because they own a plot upon which they intend to build. The problem is the community and the City of Goleta.

Last year Goleta City council voted to begin some improvements around town. One such improvement caused them to put the Mosque’s building plans on hold so they could invoke “imminent Domain” and take a portion of the land. The part the city took to build their roundabout at Cathedral Oaks road was small, but the construction prohibited the construction of another structure at the same time.

Now that the roundabout is finished the Muslim community should be able to begin construction, right? Wrong. When the city postponed their building plans the congregation had to continue to pay rent at the Community Center in order to worship each Friday (as Friday is the Muslim Sabbath.) Now they must rebuild some of their coffers in order to have the funds to build.

in addition to the other issues, some of the more closed minded of the Goleta residents have begun to notice women wearing hijabs leaving the community center, and as they have noticed their numbers have grown. The whispers and finger pointing have risen to actual conversations that show no understanding of cultural difference or the diversity upon which America claims to be built. As these conversations have become louder and louder some residents have begun to complain about the idea of a Mosque in Goleta at all;

such complaints have made their way to my ears. it is one thing to be frightened of terrorists, it is

quite another to ascribe the actions of a few to an entire religion. Many Americans have trouble differentiating between Sunni, Shia and radical islam, yet most Americans have no trouble differentiating between Catholic, Baptist and the Nazis. But the difference is almost exactly the same. Your average American who doesn’t know anything personally about islam will know that the Catholics and Baptists while both Christian, are not the same as each other, and the two have nothing in common with Nazis (who are a political group.) Yet most members of the Nazi party claimed to be Christians. The claim that Muslims are terrorists is like saying Christians are Nazis. it is completely and utterly ridiculous and it confuses God and politics. While extreme and a bit dramatic the example should draw a parallel that is easily understood by mainstream society.

To deny someone the right and ability to build a place of worship, where they may worship as they are called to is paramount to the core values of bigotry. While we may not be the biddies going around trying to instigate action against the building of the Mosque, now that you know what is going on, it is up to you to advocate for our neighbors. While there have been hate crimes in Goleta and Santa Barbara, none have been committed by Muslims. There have never been terrorist attacks in our area committed by Muslims and no one in our local Muslim community has ever espoused the radical ideologies that terrorists are known for. There are no plans of implementing Sharia Law, even on the Mosque property, and among our neighbors, the only hate i have seen has been directed at the Muslim community.

So does a rainbow come after a rainstorm for all people who are working hard and just trying to follow their conscience? Does good triumph over evil? Does love conquer all? Or do those adages only apply to mainstream society? What do you think, and where will you choose to stand? Ω

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A Good DayPoetry: Tara Patrick

it makes sense to stay away from cruelty. in the branches of self created, quicksand thorns we approach, none-the-less, with love, with licks of near tenderness, with an emphatic mantra of prehensile suck.Unthreaded into the paleness of truculent skin, we amuse.We land as though songbirds- cutting along the surfaceof what makes a bird a song.We join opposite sides of the same side, a hold-up underway that leaves out consequential redirectionfrom point A to point B and onward to point C. Silhouetted blanks, we set fire to free fire.in this newly officiated place, as revisionists of one word, back into treeswe catch and scaffold a spark, hang up a sign that says: Return at a later date.Take the bag and you will disappear.

Jeffrey Lovelace

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The Odyssey

A ConspiracyFiction: Jeffrey lovelace

“i hear you’re in the Marines, thank you for your service,” said Warren as he saluted me.

“Well…actually i work for the Department of Commerce as a marine biologist.”

His arm dropped to his side as his jaw tensed. “Wait…You mean to tell me you work for the federal government? That makes you nothing but a god damned, lying thief in my book,”

My grin froze as i wondered if my new step father-in-law was joking. We stood there in silence studying each other. When the stubby, balding man’s squint threatened a punch, not a punch line, i did what any man would do, i turned to my wife. She turned to her mother who put down their rain dampened suitcase just inside our front door.

“Warren, dear, can i speak to you outside for a minute?” said my mother-in-law to her husband of three weeks.

“Sure, but bring the suitcase with you Faith, we’re leaving,” he said backing out the door, staring as though expecting my head to sprout horns.

After the door closed i turned to my wife, “What the…”

“i was afraid of this.” Gwen explained that since her mother met Warren six months earlier on a cruise for single Christian seniors, the political tone had changed in their weekly phone conversations. “Mom even referred to Obama as ‘that Muslim terrorist.’”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”“Shh…” said Gwen as she eased over to the door

to eavesdrop. i couldn’t help but overhear as well. “You said he was a Marine, not a god damned

government employee, and a flippin’ scientist to boot… Get in the RV, Faith, we’re heading back to Boise.”

“But we came all this way…she’s my only child. So what if she married badly…”

Gwen looked at me, her lower lip out as though my puppy just died, but then jumped back from the door and pretended to pick dead leaves off the fake ficus. The door opened and Warren took one step in.

“We’re staying, for now; but son, if you try to take my guns, so help me…”

Gwen interrupted, “…Josh has a gun too. i’m sure he’d love to show it to you.”

“Uh, yeah, it was my great grandfather’s Colt .45 from world war one. Want to see it?”

in the next fifteen minutes Warren and i exhausted our one common interest, the rusted pistol i

Jenna Martinelli

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use as a paperweight. The rest of that day the rain poured, so we sat

around the mahogany veneer kitchen table sipping coffee and eating crackers and dip. We didn’t talk so much as listen to Warren yell about how he had it on good authority that the Bush administration orchestrated 9/11 to justify limiting people’s constitutional rights. Gwen’s kick under the table reminded me to nod and say only, “Hmm.”

He described how the latest school shooting was a government hoax staged to justify taking away the people’s guns. i held my tongue and said only, “Really?”

He claimed that the moon walks, global warming, and the holocaust were also frauds. i withheld the facts that i measure the effects of global warming each day, my mother’s father worked for NASA during the Apollo missions, and many of my father’s mother’s relatives were last seen marching away at Nazi gun point. i said only, “i see,” while squeezing my wife’s hand tight under the table.

Gwen jumped up with yelp of pain, but recovered by saying that she had to go correct her student’s exams.

“But it’s Sunday dear,” said Faith.“Teaching keeps me busy seven days a week,

Momma.”Faith peered over the top of her princess glasses.

“Warren always says, ‘He who can do does, he who can’t do teaches.’ Gwen dear, you should get out in the real world and do something with your life.”

“Don’t get me started on teachers,” said Warren, but it was too late. He ranted about how teachers live in mansions while hardly ever working. Gwen stood glaring at the little man in the canary yellow short-sleeve shirt so blousy thin you could see his tank-top.

“You keep talking about how teachers and government employees just sit around all day getting rich off other people’s tax money.” With a smirk, she swept her arm wide toward the majestic splendor of our speckled linoleum counter tops in the cramped

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combination kitchen/dining room. “Does this look like a mansion to you?”

“Ha, my RV’s nicer than this shack.”“And you seem to think that everyone in the

world except you is a lying, cheating, player in some great conspiracy just to fool you?”

He nodded with flared eyebrows, “And the N.R.A. is the only organization willing to stand up to them and insist that every American has the duty to arm themselves for protection, except the mentally ill. An armed society is not only a free society, but a polite society.”

i had to ask, “So if a man walked into my house and insulted me and my family in a very impolite way, i should have the constitutional right to blow his head off.”

“Damn straight.”i imagined rehabilitating my paperweight to

test his theory. Warren bashed on, “The constitution is a perfect

document written by God. Anyone who says one word against any part of it, especially the second amendment, should be shot on the spot for treason without wasting time on a trial.”

i interrupted, “What if my gun doesn’t work? Could i bash the traitor’s head in with it?”

Faith ignored my question, “Warren knows what he’s talking about. He writes a blog and gets thousands of hits every day.” She added in a confidential whisper, “Glenn Beck and Alex Jones have quoted Warren as an inside source.” Faith smiled and bobbed her silver hair.

Gwen excused herself and me, saying we had to be at work early in the morning. As soon as we reached our bedroom she broke into tears. “Josh, i want my mother back.”

Gwen works so hard and gives me so much while asking little. As i held my sobbing wife, i accepted her statement as a sacred quest. i would get her mother back.

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When Gwen shuffled off to dress for bed, i returned to the kitchen. “Warren, how would you like to come to work with me tomorrow and see what a government marine biologist does?”

“That should be good for a laugh. You’re on.”

First thing in the morning, i called my boss, Ramon, and briefed him on the conspiracy i’d formulated during the night. He reminded me that we had to prepare for Friday’s meeting with representatives from the local fishing industry. “But i have to admit, i love a good prank, especially on people who deserve it. Bring him in a half hour after we open. i’ll have everything ready when you come in.”

When Warren and i stepped into the five person office, he did a double take. To his amazement, everyone appeared to be working. i announced my guest to the room, but no one paid any notice.

Ramon burst out of his office, marched up to Warren, and pumped the man’s hand. “Did i hear you say that this man is Warren Manker, the Warren Manker? Sir, i read your blog every day. i howled when you called Limbaugh a hippie last week. Everybody listen-up, this guy knows the score so we can all stop pretending.”

The other four people put down their phones and stacks of paper. They took turns saying that it had been so long since they had to look busy for visitors they’d almost forgotten how. Everyone started folding paper airplanes, playing Tetris, and texting.

Larry took the dusty picture of Reagan off the wall (he must have found it buried in the supply closet) revealing a computer printed picture of Al Gore with the words, “Our Esteemed Leader” printed under the photo. it looked a bit cheesy, but they only had thirty minutes to prepare.

Warren barked a laugh, “i knew it! i knew you

people were crooks!” His triumphant grin confirmed that we had validated his darkest assumptions.

Ramon invited us into his office. He asked if Warren had any questions about what the government really does.

“Questions? Of course i have questions. The question is, how much do you know?”

“Ha, why do you think they’re hiding me in this little hell hole? i know too much. i know the real power behind everything that’s going on. But even you’d never believe me if i told you.”

Warren spread his doughy hands wide as if to say, “Try me.”

“No way. You couldn’t handle the truth.”i cringed at the heavy handed line, but it

worked. Warren’s eyes bugged. My admiration for my boss grew as he worked the hook in ever deeper. Ramon stood. “Thank you again sir for visiting but…”

Warren reached across the desk and grabbed Ramon’s thick forearm. “Please, i have to know. 9/11 was an inside job, right?”

Ramon sat down shaking his head. “But sir, the answer to all your questions is right in front of your face. Who profited from all of the recent ‘disasters,’ and the federal responses to those disasters? When you figure that out you’ll see who pulls the government’s strings. i should know; i used to yank those strings. But they’ve got you fooled because you act like their biggest fan.”

Warren’s head snapped back an inch. He sat blinking at nothing in particular, but then his eyes went wide as he muttered, “No no, no way.”

“That’s right Mr. Manker. What happened to gun and ammo sales after 9/11, after Columbine, and every other ‘mass shooting?’ What happens to weapon sales every time the N.R.A. instructs their secret puppet, the President, to threaten new gun control laws?”

The OdysseyA Conspiracy - Cont’d

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Warren inhaled, “And when they installed a foreign born Muslim president.”

i opened my mouth to protest, but my boss shot me a look.

“Exactly,” whispered Ramon, “Gun and ammo sales went through the roof, and the real rulers, my bosses, raked in billions.”

The sun pierced the clouds sending a shaft of light through the window and onto Ramon’s face. Warren mumbled something about a sign.

“Now you and your step son-in-law are the only outsiders who know. But understand that the N.R.A. wants to keep it a secret, and they’ve disappeared a lot of people in their FEMA death camp hidden under the Denver Airport.”

Warren went white. “That’s true too?” He buried his head in his hands. Ramon winked at me, and i returned a mischievous grin.

“i have to go now, but i’ll point out the obvious. if you want to live, you can either tell no one, or you can do the right thing and tell everyone. These tyrants must be stopped in the name of freedom. Just don’t mention where you heard this. You’re a brilliant man, Mr. Manker, they’ll know you figured it out on your own.”

Warren waddled to the car as if recovering from outpatient surgery. Faith and her silent husband packed up within the hour. Just before climbing into their RV’s driver’s seat, Warren shook my hand hard, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You and i are brothers in arms now.”

We all shared a laugh that afternoon at the ofice, but then dug back into the mountainous workload of an underfunded agency. Life returned to normal. i never did tell Gwen what happened at the office that day, saying only, “We blinded him with science.”

Three weeks later, i turned on the TV and

there was a picture of Warren’s face. All news cameras focused on the N.R.A.’s national headquarters in Fairfax, Virginia where a little known right wing blogger and a group of his followers held mid-level N.R.A. officials hostage at gun point.

The armed invaders all died in a hail of SWAT gunfire; none of the hostages were injured. The last post on their dead leader’s blog, entitled A Wolf Among Sheep ranted about how we must protect ourselves from the N.R.A. After the stand-off, gun sales broke all records.

Gwen hopped on the first available flight. She returned several days later with her stunned mother in tow. Since then we’ve kept Faith hidden from the cranks and the media. it’s as though she’s recovering from Stockholm syndrome. She keeps saying, “What was i thinking?” Gwen tells me Faith even laughed last night when she admitted that loneliness makes us do the stupidest things.

So does love i suppose. i wanted Warren to make such a fool of himself it would open Faith’s eyes and she’d leave him; but instead people died. Like Warren and his conspiracy theories, i didn’t think it through.

i’ve had to live with that, which has made it hard to sleep. So many nights i’d stare into the darkness considering how Warren was right. He died a victim of a government plot…mine.

One night around 3:00 AM, in my most sleep deprived state, i began to believe in the conspiracy theory Ramon and i cooked up. When logic and skepticism become impaired, paranoid notions can take root and grow like kudzu. i tiptoed to my desk and researched blogging as i muttered, “People have to know about this.” But at dawn i crawled back into bed, slept-in, and awoke with a laugh at the stupidity of it all.

But then again, think about it. i mean, what if the N.R.A… Ω

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The Odyssey

it is easy for those of us with roofs over our heads to see the rain as a periodic pleasantry. if it is too wet we can go inside, or turn up the heater when it gets too cold. However, not all of us can make use of these simple solutions. Some among us have no windowsill to sit next to when the rains pour down, or hot cocoa to sip as the wet beads drip across the glass. When you have no dry bed to sleep in, the patter of rain seems like much less than a lullaby. Rain brings no comfort to Santa Barbara’s homeless. Maria Long does. As reported in The Independent , this winter Maria started a last minute emergency shelter to alleviate the suffering of SB’s homeless community as the rains fell for five straight days. All told, some 553 people made use of her compassion, quick thinking, and commitment. Almost half of those who used the shelter were suffering from mental illness, and many were veterans. Even in the land of plenty, there are still those who go wanting. Were it not for the dedication of people like Maria Long, these poor drenched souls would

have little recourse but to freeze and die in the cold. Emergency shelters such as Maria’s rose up to fill a need. Overcrowding of traditional homeless shelters swelled during deep downpours across the city and many were turned away. Long’s strategy is to watch the weather reports diligently, and when conditions are predicted to worsen she and her team snap into action to bring additional shelters online. A shelter can be up and running in 48 hours; and this includes the time needed to inform the homeless community that additional help will be available should conditions deteriorate. The numbers of visitors that Long reports shows that even among the homeless who normally shun such help, these shelters are trusted and utilized refuges. Sadly, the city of Santa Barbara is inhospitable even during the driest of days. The homeless are routinely harassed by pedestrians and shopkeepers as criminals and nuisances. Not all of these complaints are unjustified. Downtown’s reputation as the go-to destination of the posh shopper doesn’t lend itself well to images of unwashed schizophrenics muttering to themselves outside Saks Fifth Avenue. Nor do the endless solicitations for change endear the homeless to locals and tourists alike. The city parks where many of the residentially challenged face regular sweeps and forced removals are no sanctuary for them. Without shelters such as Maria Long’s many people have nowhere to go, and no one who cares. We all see them. How many of us stop to really look? For every quarter or dollar we spare, how many remain in our pocket? For every man or woman we look in the eye, from how many do we turn and look away? Why

Song of SympathyLocal Perspective: Jesse Kimball

Jeffrey Lovelace

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do we hear the pleas of some, but the cries of others fall on ears of stone? is it because we think ourselves so different? Maybe it is our hopelessness, our power-lessness in the face of cruelty and sorrow. We should understand that the same thoughts and fears are contained within them as well. Perhaps it is their hopelessness that is truly appalling to us, those people without roofs, without windowsills and without hot cocoa. Sometimes our own sense of empathy betrays us when we need it to guide us most, and the experience of walking a mile in the shoes of those who have none is too heavy for our hearts to lift. And so we walk past, again and again, consumed by mutually assured despair. We can do better. We owe it to our common human heritage to do better, to be better. Women such as Maria Long can show us the way, and inspire us to be kinder mammals than those who came before. By missing the humanity of the poor and sick, we miss out on our own humanity, our capacity to love and be loved. Such a thing is too precious to squander, but even worse to hoard. The next time the rains come down, when downtown is washed clean but not the people who live there, remember our begrudged brothers and sisters of the streets. They too feel the cold that cuts through cloth and flesh alike, the sting of rejection when compassion is most needed. Feel it with them, even when you sit at home, snug by the fireplace with cocoa in hand. When the rain next falls listen closely, for those strong of heart may hear the sweetest of songs: the song of sympathy. Ω

h t t p : / / w w w. i n d e p e n d e n t . c o m / n e w s / 2 0 1 2 /dec/06/rain-comes-down-shelters-open/

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Song of Sympathy - Cont’d Calling All WritersOn Campus: Jeffrey lovelace

Want to write like the best? This Summer AUSB will put on its first six-day writing workshop. From Sunday, July 28th through Saturday, August 3rd our humble campus will host a jaw dropping list of screenwriters and fiction, Y.A., and non-fiction authors who are coming to teach you.

The fiction workshops will cover everything from mysteries, to commercial fiction, to “Creating Worlds.” The program also includes three “Writing for Young People” workshops. The nonfiction curriculum

ranges from journalism to memoir, all taught by accomplished authors and professors. The list of screenwriting instructors reads like a Hollywood who’s who, including Oscar, Emmy, Golden Globe, Tony, and Writers Guild award winners and nominees.

in addition to the remarkable workshops, attendees will enjoy panel discussions on topics such as “getting published,” plus readings by authors, and social mixers. Best of all, it happens here on AUSB’s beautiful campus. For a full list of workshops, faculty, and events please visit the website for the Summer Writing institute.

Also, if you are an Antioch student and you seek a work-study opportunity, contact Lauren in AUSB’s HR department. At the time of this writing a few spots remain open.

The classes too have limited space and the early bird deadline has passed, so get your application in before the April 27th final deadline. See you there. Ωhttp://www.antiochsb.edu/swi/

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The Odyssey

Narrative threads comprise the fabric of our consciousness. Try to think of something that has no word or meaning to it, no storyline or context; it’s not possible. For some people, this fabric remains as ubiquitous and invisible as air. However, Antioch encourages us to examine our cultural and personal narratives, tear them apart and marvel at their repeating yet unexpected patterns. We writing students even try our hand at spinning some original yarns of our own. So of course i wish to highlight three events that celebrate museum quality spoken narratives.

The first is a phenomenon called “The Moth,” which comes to UCSB’s Campbell Hall on April 4th. The Moth describes itself as “true stories told live.” Poet and best-selling novelist George Dawes Green founded the Moth in 1997 in New York City. Since then Moth events have sprung up across the country.

i first heard of the Moth many years ago when i tuned into my local public radio station playing The Moth Radio Hour. i heard a woman’s voice so constrained by cerebral palsy she had an interpreter translate sentence by sentence. The woman, Janice Bartley, described the first time she fell in love. Her poignant, humorous, and well-crafted story hooked me on the Moth forever.

Since then i have heard moving and hilarious life narratives by celebrities, police officers, authors, and ice cream vendors. Every show is different. The tales are well screened and presented, and provide a fascinating window into other people’s life changing experiences. https://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/Details.aspx?PerfNum=2422http://themoth.org/

Santa Barbara has its own home grown spoken word series as well. This quarter Speaking of Stories will put on two shows at the Center Stage Theater above the Paseo Nuevo Mall. These productions feature outstanding works of short fiction and nonfiction read by accomplished actors from the Santa Barbara area. April 14th and 15th includes stories written by literary luminaries Edith Pearlman and Ron Carlson. Then on May 19th and May 20th they will host A Celebration of Stories, which will debut a new short story by renowned author and Santa Barbara resident T. C. Boyle. Antioch professor Meryl Peters even serves on the organization’s Advisory Board. Student pricing is available. Speaking of Stories is worth attending not only because it’s local, but because it is top quality literary entertainment.http://www.speakingofstories.org/

Tuesday, April 30, personal essayist David Sedaris makes his annual stop in Santa Barbara to perform readings from his books or his diary. When people hear about an author coming to town for a reading they might think of a professorial woman or man standing in a bookstore reciting passages to mostly empty folding chairs. David Sedaris, on the other hand, always fills the Arlington Theatre’s 2,000 seats, and for good reason. Though Sedaris has dabbled in pure fiction, his “memoirs” won him a huge following. His stories range from growing up gay in the South, to jaw dropping tales about his benevolently bizarre family, to learning French as an adult living in Paris.

Though based on his experiences, Sedaris’ works do not qualify as true memoir. He admits that he often embellishes, layering irony upon irony to enhance his stories’ humorous effect. Sedaris is to personal essay what Stephen Colbert is to political commentary.

So pull up a chair and take part in a human ritual that predates civilization. Close your eyes or gaze into the distance as you listen to the best of the best weave their stories, transporting you into the fabric of others’ lives, both real and imagined. Ωhttps://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/details.aspx?perfnum=2187

The Spoken WordStaff Picks - Entertainment: Jeffrey lovelace

Jeffrey Lovelace

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Springtime - After the RainPoems from the Antioch Community

All That Remains

You arrive as fast as you leave,uninvited, but always welcomeThat if only I could believeas you gently fall to the sound of a drumin my listening, your words could be spoken through meBut you fade to quickly awayall that remainsis the ray of sun peering audaciously through the clouds...The sun too is looking to see where you have gone

- Samuel Ballou, MACP Student

After the rain stopsMorning dew crisp at daybreakShimmering promise

- Jesse Kimball, BA Student

TruSTTRUST that you will live to your potentialResearch into your innermost personalityUtilize all the resources at your disposalSteer for success with all your strengthTime will crown your endeavors to the utmost- Chrys Brobbey, Antioch Alum

It’s Spring

It’s SpringA new season of the yearAfter winter and before summer A beautiful time to regroup ourselves Spring also meaning one that leaps, skips, and hops So be like a child again and find renewal, hope, and a new beginning; a fresh start for your dreams Spring can also mean one moving upward or forward in a quick motion; so celebrate this time to have a spring in your steps, to radiate bliss as you transition in your endeavors – and go with the ebb and flowTake a leap of faith and skip to your hearts content as the emerging buds bloom Pretend for a moment you are dancing and singing in the rain and feel your heart beating joyouslyRejoice in this moment and be happy and carefree It’s Spring a great time of the year!

- Denise Thorpe-Eheler - Alum

Jenna Martinelli

It’s springtime let’s give a hooray.The cold and the rain gone away.But our marine layerkeeps making it grayer.So ‘til August in bed I will stay.- Jeffrey Lovelace, BA Student

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The Odyssey

After the Rain Comes Environmental ConnectionsFaculty Voice: Dawn Osborn, PhD.

How often do you think about your water use? How often do you appreciate the clean water coming from your sink? Access to clean water should be a basic human right? it’s estimated that dirty water kills 5,000 children a day globally? Climate change is hitting developing countries the hardest—nearly two million children a year die from dirty water and the world’s poor often pay more for their water than people in developing countries. According to the WHO World Water Day report, governments are urged to guarantee that each person has at least 5.3 gallons of clean water a day, regardless of wealth, location, gender or ethnicity. Many sub-Saharan Africans use much less than that per day while the average Americans use 159 gallons a day (http://www.who.int/water_sanitation_health/takingcharge.html).

What is being done to draw attention to this important issue? international World Water Day is held annually on 22 March as a means of focusing attention on the importance of freshwater and advocating for the sustainable management of freshwater resources. The 2013 winning slogan, ‘Water, water everywhere, only if we share’ by Ms. Megha Kumar from india, was announced at UNESCO Headquarters in Paris, France this month. Check out the advocacy information on their web page (http://www.unwater.org/water-cooperation-2013/water-cooperation/en/). But what can you do about it?

At AUSB, there is now an Environmental Studies concentration emphasizing ecosystems around the world, and ethical, economic, and political issues that affect the people, animals and habitats. Environmental justice issues are becoming more important every day and career opportunities are

i love the rain. i love the smell of the dry earth after the rain—did you know it’s called petrichor? i learned that from one of our brilliant B.A. Environmental Studies students, Jen Baron. Did you know you could have an environmental studies concentration at AUSB? You can!

Water can be so calming and peaceful, but also powerful and destructive. Our environment and weather patterns are changing and it is getting harder to predict rain and snow intensities—we see drought in some habitats and devastating floods with loss of life in other habitats. The borders separating countries have been drawn over the past thousands of years delineating water access to certain peoples. Water is what every living creature on Earth needs to survive, yet too much of it can destroy crops, land, and civilization. We exist in a delicate balance with nature—the point of which is teetering on respect for water.

Jeffrey Lovelace

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While on vacation in Negril, Jamaica

I passed through a residential neighborhood

and saw a boy who was filling a bucket of

water outside to bring inside because he

did not have running water in his home.

This image demonstrates the vast differences

across cultures today. I hope to generate awareness

of the conditions that people presently live in.

Ω

blossoming in this arena. The world dialogue will need people involved who are effective communicators, globally aware, concerned about social justice and equity, and critical/creative thinkers—does that sound like you?

Students in AUSB’s Environmental Studies Program will gain critical knowledge in global ecological and social processes connecting people, policy, and the environment. You will develop critical skills in observation, environmental planning, and policy development with an interdisciplinary grounding in environmental and conservation issues. The program synergizes an innovative curriculum combining environmental, political, global, and holistic courses with opportunities to gain practical experience and network in local communities. You have an opportunity to make a difference now, to change old school habits and demand public consciousness and awareness of nature.

The AUSB Environmental Studies concentration will emphasize environmental advocacy and global awareness. We focus on key environmental concepts and skills for effecting change through advocacy and policy work. You will be prepared for careers and graduate programs in: environmental health and management, natural resources and conservation, outdoor and environmental education, environmental law and regulation, policy, environmental advocacy, international environmental issues, and non-profit or governmental organizations. AUSB graduates have more than just a B.A. when they graduate; they have the knowledge and skills to act. So, be bold! Be brave! Make a difference, because you can! Ω

...Environmental Connections - Cont’d Negril, JamaicaPhoto Essay: Annette Golan

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Spring Calendar

The Odyssey

Date: Event: Time: Admission: Location: Contact Info:

April 2Bobby McFerrin:Spirit You All 8:00 PM $38-$53 The Granada

Theatre

http://ticketing.granadasb.org/single/eventDetail.aspx?p=1868

April 3 weekly The Lindy Circle: Swing Dance Lessons

8 : 3 0 - 9 : 3 0 PM Free The Carrillo

Ballroomhttp://www.thelindycircle.com/

April 4The Moth Mainstage

8:00 PM $35, $15 UCSB Students

Campbell Hall, UCSB

https://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/Details.aspx?PerfNum=2422

April 4 First Thursdays at SBMA 5:00 PM-8:00 PM

Santa Barbara Museum of Art

http://www.sbma.net/programs/events.web

April 4 – 13Bill W. and Dr. Bob

Varies$25, $15 Students Center Stage

Theaterhttp://www.centerstagetheater.org/

April 6Kid Flix Mix

11:00 AM $10, $15 Campbell Hall, UCSB

https://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/Details.aspx?PerfNum=2452

April 7Raffi in Concert

1:00 PM $25,$35,$55 The Arlington Theater

http://thearlingtontheatre.com/schedule/details/272-raffi

April 7Studio Sundays on the Front Steps 1:30 PM-

4:30 PM

The Santa Barbara Museum of Art http://www.sbma.net/

programs/events.web

April 8MBA info Series 5:30 PM-

6:30 PM Free AUSB Campushttp://www.antiochsb.edu/admissions/information-sessions/mba-program/

April 14Studio Sundays on the Front Steps 1:30 PM-

4:30 PMSanta Barbara Museum of Art

http://www.sbma.net/programs/events.web

April 14-15Stories by Edith Pearlman & Ron Carlson Varies

$25; $15 Students and Military

Center Stage Theater

http://www.centerstagetheater.org/

April 17BA info Session 5:30 PM-

6:30 PM Free AUSB Campushttp://www.antiochsb.edu/admissions/information-sessions/ba-program/

April 18 Sonia Shah 8:00 PM Free Campbell Hall, UCSB

https://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/Details.aspx?PerfNum=2585

April 18 New Order 7:00PM $48.50-78.50 Santa Barbara County Bowl

http://www.sbbowl.com/concerts.htm

April 19-20The Symposium on Healthy Aging Varies Varies AUSB –

Community Hall

http://www.antiochsb.edu/events/symposium-on-healthy-aging/

April 19-20Collective

Varies $20 Center Stage Theater

http://www.centerstagetheater.org/

April 21Studio Sundays on the Front Steps

1:30 PM- 4:30 PM

Santa Barbara Museum of Art

http://www.sbma.net/programs/events.web

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Spring Calendar

Date: Event: Time: Admission: Location: Contact Info:

April 25-26 Borrowed Time7:30 PM Varies Center Stage

Theaterhttp://www.centerstagetheater.org/

April 28Studio Sundays on the Front Steps

1:30 PM- 4:30 PM

Santa Barbara Museum of Art

http://www.sbma.net/programs/events.web

April 29

Jay & Silent Bob’s Super Groovy Cartoon Movie 7:30 PM $42.50< $52.50 The Lobero Theatre

http://www.lobero.com/events/jay-silent-bobs-super-groovy-movie/

April 30 David Sedaris 8:00 PM $28-$48 The Arlington Theater

https://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/Details.aspx?PerfNum=2495

May 2First Thursdays at SBMA

5:00 PM-8:00 PM

Santa Barbara Museum of Art

http://www.sbma.net/programs/events.web

May 2 Neil deGrasse Tyson 8:00 PM $16-$53 The Granada Theatre

https://artsandlectures.sa.ucsb.edu/Details.aspx?PerfNum=2514

May 2-12 Next to Normal Varies$25; $10 Students

Center Stage Theater

http://www.centerstagetheater.org/

May 18 Film Showing: The End of the Line

2:00 PMAUSB http://www.antiochsb.edu/

events/environmental-series/

May 19 The Voice inside 3:00 PM $8.50-16.00 Marjorie Luke Theatre

http://www.lobero.com/events/sbdi-voice/

May 20 BA information Session 5:30 PM – 6:30 PM

AUSB Campus Community Hall

http://www.antiochsb.edu/admissions/information-sessions/ba-program/

May 19 and 20 Celebration of Stories Varies$25; $15 Students and Military

Center Stage Theater

http://www.centerstagetheater.org/

May 22 PsyD in Clinical Psychology

5:30 PM – 6:30 PM

AUSB http://www.antiochsb.edu/admissions/information-sessions/psyd-in-clinical-psychology/

June 3 Sting: Back to Bass 7:30 PM $58.50-134.50 Santa Barbara County Bowl

http://www.sbbowl.com/concerts.htm

June 10 MA in Clinical Psychology information Session

12:00 PM – 1:00 PM AUSB Campus

http://www.antiochsb.edu/admissions/information-sessions/ma-in-clinical-psychology/

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The Odyssey - sPring 2013

The AUSB Odyssey is a student driven production designed to provide an opportunity for members of the AUSB community to share their critical and creative voices.

The views represented are those of the authors, not necessarily Antioch University Santa Barbara.

WE WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU……

The AUSB Odyssey provides a unique opportunity for students, faculty, staff and alumni of AUSB to share their written work. We accept theme-based submissions for current and future issues. Submissions can include: current news, short fiction, poetry, personal essays, photography, artwork, reviews, or articles on social justice, business, health, human interest, etc. Whether you are an undergraduate or graduate student, faculty, a staff member, or an alum, we would love to hear from you.

uPCOMinG EDiTiOnS: The summer 2013 edition will be an anthology of the best stories, poems, and articles from the past year and a half. The fall 2013 edition will have the theme “A Celebration of Everything.” Submissions will be due in mid May. Contact us for more details.

Please email Odyssey.ausb@antioch.edu with submissions, questions, or comments. We appreciate your continued support of our humble publication.

july 28 - august 3, 2013

For workshop descriptions, faculty profiles, and application details, visit

antiochsb.edu/swi

2013

Apply soon! Final application deadline is April 27.

FictionGail Tsukiyama Josh ConviserBarbara SamuelNaomi HiraharaPeter Gadol NonfictionLou Cannon Maureen Murdock Diana RaabJerry RobertsMaria Streshinsky ScreenwritingRobin Swicord John PielmeierDavid W. RintelsCheri SteinkellnerBill Steinkellner Writing for Young People R.L. LaFevers Jennifer BosworthBruce Hale SWI Director Marcia Meier

Do you want to be more effective in your writing practice, hone your craft, and enhance your unique style and voice?

Join us at this intensive weeklong seminar for serious writers, featuring intimate workshops, networking opportunities, and evening readings with faculty and guest authors.