Nika Carlson's Portfolio

Tuesday, August 31, 2004
The Oregonian

Through the Web site Freecycle, people give and take -- literally, freely, liberally. People post a request or offer, hoping someone has what they want or wants what they have. Ask for a woodstove, get it for free. Have too much Splenda on your hands, give it away. Hundreds of frozen chicken necks: offered and taken.

The listserve was created in Arizona in May 2003 to help keep landfills clear, but for some the site has grown beyond its environmental mission. For them, the Internet community of Freecycle has gone from virtual to actual. Politeness and generosity reign.

"It's an opportunity to accept something with grace," said Kathy Cruz, who runs a Washington County Freecycle group. "It's counter to society today. We're not protected by the convenience of having to pay for it and not having to extend ourselves. It's a heart-to-heart transaction."

Freecycle has grown from one group in Arizona to hundreds worldwide. More than 6,000 people subscribe to the Portland group, the biggest Freecycle group by far, and hundreds more subscribe to groups for surrounding areas.

Megan Brooks and Hollie Butler are stay-at-home moms. They live three blocks away from each other in tidy Orenco Station. They both shop at New Seasons Market and wonder about the other hip-looking young parents, though they rarely approach them.

"I've joked before that trying to find new friends as an adult is hard because you feel like you're dating," said Butler, 29.

The women laugh, interrupting and finishing each other's sentences. They act like old friends, but the met just over six months ago.

They were brought together by spice racks.

They talked three hours the first time they met, when Brooks, 27, picked up the racks Butler offered on Freecycle. They discussed politics, religion, parenting and love lives while their toddler sons played in the living room. Brooks tipped Butler off that she practiced attachment parenting, a style of parenting focusing on creating physical and emotional bonds between parent and child.

"I remember thinking I was so grateful: 'Another one like me,' " Butler said.

The boys shared toast made from homemade bread, and the women made a play date.

Now, they get together several times a week.

"Our level of comfort with each other is so deep, even though our history is really small," Brooks said.

At age 40, Gina Griffin is starting over.

Until recently, she was married, with three kids, her own business and her own home. After a nasty divorce, however, she was left with almost nothing. She and her kids took over a fly-ridden trailer in the hills above Wenatchee, Wash., before moving to Oregon to start over. After a brief stint at a friend's home, they moved into an apartment in Hillsboro they "Goodwilled and garage saled" together. "We had practically nothing and nowhere to put what little we did have," Griffin said.

In December, Griffin discovered Freecycle. She watched for several months to see how the site worked. She wasn't used to asking for help. But she had no place to eat and few places to sit, and since dinner was the one of the few times the Griffins regularly gathered, she asked for a table and chairs.

Michelle Brentano, 31, responded to her post. Although Griffin asked for little, Brentano noted that Griffin was a single mom in need of help just like she once was.

She overwhelmed Griffin with boxes of kitchenware, toys, books and homey knickknacks. And while Griffin played with her dogs on the floor of Brentano's suburban Milwaukie home and the women shared stories about their pasts, Brentano's son dismantled the dining room table.

In one day, Griffin's apartment was transformed from mere shelter to a home.

"I have tried to be independent and take care of what I needed and not take advantage of anybody, but there comes a time where if somebody else can help, it's OK to let them help," Griffin said. "After everything I've been through, Freecycle has redeemed my opinion of the human race."

Livia Thompson got her dream wedding.

It was a ceremony Thompson, 30, never thought she could afford, with the love she never thought she'd meet, an experience far more important than the prom they both missed in high school.

And even though their first dance was to the radio because of a CD glitch and the ceremony had a few bumps -- she had met the minister just that day -- she felt like a princess.

It was all because of Freecycle. She asked for wedding decorations and advice, but got much more.

Tammy Myers, an avid Freecycler ordained through the Internet, who had never performed a ceremony before and doesn't know if she will again, was the minister.

"I did it because she needed someone, and I love Freecycle," Myers said.

The wedding photographer, Russelle Baltzell, is a single, stay-at-home mom exploring the business of photography. When not snapping digital photos, she tied children's shoes and looked after Thompson during the reception.

"Between Tammy and Russelle, we probably saved $500," said Thompson, 30.

Thompson planned the $850 ceremony in a few months. She and her fiance Larry Thompson, 27, paid for it with their tax refund, organized the theme around Freecycled decorations, and were able to afford extras like tuxedos and renting the city of Hillsboro's River House with the money they saved.

"This is something our family is going to cherish and our grandchildren are going to cherish," Thompson said, tearing up. "That's the best thing I've gotten from Freecycle. It's a community."

Janice Caffey, 77, and Pam Myers, 57, are like family. They call each other Internet mom and Internet daughter, I-mom and I-daughter for short.

They met when Janice's daughter, Kathy Allen, requested a stuffed kitten on Freecycle. She wanted something nice for her mother to cuddle with, but couldn't bring it to her. Allen lives in Vernonia, while her mother lives about 45 miles away at Mt. St. Joseph, an assisted living center in Southeast Portland, and they don't see each other as much as they'd like.

Myers, who lives in Southeast Portland, replied to the ad Allen posted on Freecycle and now visits Caffey every week. "We always have a big hug and a big kiss and tell each other we love each other," Caffey said.

She brings her movies and treats like candy or doughnuts or KFC, sometimes hunting all over town for an elusive Heath candy bar. Some days she brings her husband, her daughter, her granddaughters, or even her dog, a beagle.

"I just feel she's an angel sent to us," Allen said.

Their chance meeting was a lucky one, they say, made even more so by the losses in their lives.

When Myers was in her 30s, her mother died, and Caffey lost a daughter nearly 40 years ago in a car wreck. That daughter would have been 57 is she were alive today, the same age as Myers.

"She calls me her daughter, her daughter's come back," Myers said. "She has replaced an important part of my life."

Several months ago, Caffey was sick to the point she thought she was near death. She attributes her strong recovery in part to Myers.