- Men in Black at the Food Stamp Office – By Joe Tougas
Donna, Sally, and I were talking over dinner the other evening about the way that the level of friendliness toward strangers had changed over the years, especially the way that people had become a little more guarded in how they interacted with government officials.
Donna said, ”There was that time at the food stamp office, right? Did I ever tell you about that? Now that was a pretty flagrant example of hostility.”
“No,” said Sally. ”I don’t think I ever heard about that.”
- A Brief History of Theatre of the Unemployed – By Don Orr Martin
Our troupe came together organically and by serendipity during a time of economic recession and political and cultural turmoil. We were an unusual, evolving group of mostly white, creative, working-class, young adults who wanted our perspectives to be heard. Our hard-working collective created or produced 17 plays on a shoestring from 1975 until 1981 . . . Participating in the radical political and cultural upheavals of the late 1960s and early ’70s, we developed a love of collective performance as a resource for personal and institutional transformation . . . critical thinking and resistance to oppression.
- A Fantasic Odyssey in Music – By Connie Bunyer
I arrived in the spring [of 1981] and didn’t really have a plan, just hoped the universe would take care of me. I had my guitar and my flute, headed to Percival Landing, and put out a hat. usking was slow that time of year, but a wonderful woman came by and offered to let me play in her coffee shop for tips and snacks: first gig, Café Intermezzo.
- Olympia Farmers Market – By Becky Liebman
The early days presented a consummate catch-22 situation. Growers did not want to participate unless there were customers. Customers would not return if there wasn’t produce to buy. As manager, I considered myself a marketing genius: I would call numbers I found in the classified ads of the Daily Olympian with a pitch something like, “I see you’re selling cucumbers. Did you know we have a farmers market in Olympia, open every Friday and Saturday alongside Capitol Lake?” Slowly the word spread.
- Jazz in Olympia: Big Time Small Town Scene – 2023 – By David Lee Joyner
I think the state’s capital is a treasure—beautiful, less crowded, economically accessible, friendly, it had great schools for my kids, and it was a convenient commute to my day gig as Director of Jazz at Pacific Lutheran University in south Tacoma. To my delight, I also discovered a vibrant community of musicians in Olympia, some of international repute and stature. Unfettered by the lack of local gigs, these wonderful artists’ activities have flourished, and they welcomed me into the fold with the same small-town warmth possessed by the city in general.
- Making Music and Friends in Olympia: Carol Elwood – By Jean Eberhardt
I played violin from fourth grade on. I played briefly with the chamber orchestra at The Evergreen State College when I was a student there. I had a lot of friends in the early ’70s who were in the Evergreen academic program called American Music. Tom Foote was one of the profs. My friend Karen England was taking fiddle lessons from an old-time fiddler in Tenino and she practiced so diligently, more than I ever had. I’d never played anything by ear before but I tried a tune and just wow! It surprised me that it went well.
Donna, Sally, and I were talking over dinner the other evening about the way that the level of friendliness toward strangers had changed over the years, especially the way that people had become a little more guarded in how they interacted with government officials. Donna said, ”There was that time at the food stamp office, right? Did I ever tell you about that? Now that was a pretty flagrant example of hostility.” “No,” said Sally. ”I don’t think I ever heard about that.”
Our troupe came together organically and by serendipity during a time of economic recession and political and cultural turmoil. We were an unusual, evolving group of mostly white, creative, working-class, young adults who wanted our perspectives to be heard. Our hard-working collective created or produced 17 plays on a shoestring from 1975 until 1981 . . . Participating in the radical political and cultural upheavals of the late 1960s and early ’70s, we developed a love of collective performance as a resource for personal and institutional transformation . . . critical thinking and resistance to oppression.
I arrived in the spring [of 1981] and didn’t really have a plan, just hoped the universe would take care of me. I had my guitar and my flute, headed to Percival Landing, and put out a hat. usking was slow that time of year, but a wonderful woman came by and offered to let me play in her coffee shop for tips and snacks: first gig, Café Intermezzo.
The early days presented a consummate catch-22 situation. Growers did not want to participate unless there were customers. Customers would not return if there wasn’t produce to buy. As manager, I considered myself a marketing genius: I would call numbers I found in the classified ads of the Daily Olympian with a pitch something like, “I see you’re selling cucumbers. Did you know we have a farmers market in Olympia, open every Friday and Saturday alongside Capitol Lake?” Slowly the word spread.
I think the state’s capital is a treasure—beautiful, less crowded, economically accessible, friendly, it had great schools for my kids, and it was a convenient commute to my day gig as Director of Jazz at Pacific Lutheran University in south Tacoma. To my delight, I also discovered a vibrant community of musicians in Olympia, some of international repute and stature. Unfettered by the lack of local gigs, these wonderful artists’ activities have flourished, and they welcomed me into the fold with the same small-town warmth possessed by the city in general.
I played violin from fourth grade on. I played briefly with the chamber orchestra at The Evergreen State College when I was a student there. I had a lot of friends in the early ’70s who were in the Evergreen academic program called American Music. Tom Foote was one of the profs. My friend Karen England was taking fiddle lessons from an old-time fiddler in Tenino and she practiced so diligently, more than I ever had. I’d never played anything by ear before but I tried a tune and just wow! It surprised me that it went well.