Elephants provide support for women in herd

Simple gift became a meaningful symbol and a precious reminder of a friend.

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 5, 2016 12:01PM

I don’t drink coffee, but I’m part of an informal coffee klatch that meets periodically to socialize and offer support to one another.

Known as “The Herd,” people might notice most of the women in our group have an affinity for elephants — sporting elephant tattoos, owning elephant jewelry or possessing elephant art or stuffed animals. The name came about when some friends and I learned about the behavior of female elephants in the wild.

As described by the World Wildlife Fund, female elephants are part of a complex social structure. While adult male elephants live mostly in isolation, the females share in the rearing and protection of the youngest or most vulnerable members of the herd. They take special care in knowing each member’s whereabouts when the herd is traveling or approaching danger.

We grabbed onto that and over the years it has grown. It’s hard to even say how many belong to The Herd. But, I know if I called one of them, they’d show up — and probably with a few more in tow.

Shopping for gifts is pretty easy with others in The Herd — whenever a special occasion comes up, an elephant is always an appropriate present. Such was the case during a Christmas gathering with four friends back in 2010.

I found four ceramic marble elephant statues at T.J. Maxx. The one I gave Judy Hayes was purple, which turned out to be quite appropriate — about 18 months later, she was diagnosed with cancer. Purple is the color of hope for Relay for Life.

That was the first elephant Judy had received. It, and the “Elephant Story,” as she called it, became a source of strength for her as she battled cancer.

Right before starting chemotherapy, Judy got an elephant tattoo with a little red heart. A number of her family members followed suit — joining her herd.

“You will always be the loved one who taught me about the strength of the herd. I will always love you for that,” she sent in a text several years ago. “The herd continues to surround me & I am very blessed.”

During the last year of her life, Judy sent two cards with similar thanks about introducing her to the “Elephant Story.” She shared what it meant to her and how it spread to former co-workers at Two Rivers Correctional Institution, churches and prayer chains, as her friends and extended family shared the story across the country.

My eyes filled with tears this past weekend as several members of The Herd met for coffee at Starbucks. As part of her final will and testament, Judy directed that the purple elephant be returned to me.

A simple gift — costing maybe $15 — is now priceless because of what it did for my friend while she battled cancer. Rest in peace Judy Hayes.

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

DIY: To paint or not to paint

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 12, 2016 12:01AM

Enthusiastic first-time homeowners back in the early 1990s, my husband and I decided we wanted to paint our house.

I say “we” rather loosely — John is a teacher, so he was off for the summer and the bulk of the job was left to him and our friends Dave and Chris Alteneder.

We wanted to put our personal fingerprint on the house by choosing new colors. John envisioned a black house with red trim. Dave suggested black may not be the best color, so we went with gray.

The Alteneders, friends we met back in our college days, traveled from Newberg to help us. Dave, who also was an educator, supplemented the family income by painting houses during the summer months, so he had spraying gear and other supplies.

We discovered that the tiny paint strips that show the color doesn’t always translate the same once it’s up on the siding or trim. Unfortunately, we learned this too late. Geranium, the trim color, was hot pink rather than a deeper red. I guess we could have re-painted it, but by that time everyone was pretty much spent on the project.

Fast forward 15 years later when John thought the house needed to be painted again. He suggested we forgo our regular summer vacation plans and use the time and money to paint the house. I quickly put the brakes on that silly talk — I look forward to our summer trips together and wasn’t up for painting in the sweltering heat.

Because of the way vacation accrued when I started at the East Oregonian in April 2006, I wasn’t eligible to take time off for an entire year. That meant no summer vacation that year — so I revived John’s idea about painting the house that summer. Well, that didn’t happen — instead, John packed up and hit the road without me.

As the years went on, it became clear the house needed a new coat. In 2013, I became motivated to take action after a crew knocked on the door and asked if we wanted an estimate to have our house painted.

I figured we would save money if we just did it ourselves. So, I pitched the idea to John and off to the store we went to get paint. We chose “deep space,” which is pretty close to black, for the main part of the house. In addition, we got gray for the trim and red (NOT pink this time) for the shutters and doors.

We started the project in late July and I finished the front door on August 31. Yup, the hottest time of year in Hermiston and we were out there painting. I’m not a morning person, so I truly was painting in the heat of the day. I sported a “Karate Kid” headband that I kept dipping in water. In addition, I finally talked John into a little pool. Those two things probably saved me from heatstroke.

Although, John used a sprayer when climbing on scaffolding to get the highest part of the split-level, we used brushes and paint pads for most of the project.

In retrospect, I wish I had said yes when the paint crew asked if I wanted an estimate.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Scalper strikes out while swinging for the cheap seats

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 19, 2016 1:56PM

A pair of $20 bills were pulsating in my pocket as a young man demanded his money back.

The 20-something guy was a ticket scalper outside Turner Field in Atlanta — and I had just played him.

My frustration with scalpers had been brewing within. A longtime baseball fan, I was looking forward to attending the 1998 All-Star Game in Denver. However, due to the antics of ticket scalpers, my husband and I couldn’t get decent-priced tickets. Evidently, that disappointment gave me the resolve to put one over on the unsuspecting Atlanta scalper a few years later.

Scalpers obtain tickets — or even make counterfeit ones — with the purpose of making a profit by selling them for ridiculous prices. At the time, they tried not to draw attention to themselves because Georgia state law made it illegal to sell tickets for more than face value. They often held signs that said, “Need tickets.”

Part of the perk of purchasing reserved tickets on the official Atlanta Braves website was receiving a couple of cheap seat tickets for any game. They had no cash value printed on them, but I later figured they were worth maybe $5 each.

I told the dude I had tickets, good for any game. He obviously didn’t listen, glanced at them and offered me $20 each. We never stopped walking — the conversation and transaction was on the fly as John and I continued toward the stadium.

I shoved the $40 into my pocket and the guy turned back the other way. Then half a block later I could faintly hear, “Hey lady.” I kept walking — there were lots of ladies on the sidewalk. Then louder, “Hey lady, I don’t want these tickets.”

Soon, the guy caught up to us and said he wanted his money back. He said the tickets weren’t for that day’s game. I reminded him I said upfront they were good for any game and he made the deal.

He quietly protested and continued to follow us. Little did this guy know, I wasn’t easily intimidated. Back in the day, I wouldn’t give up my Pepsi and Pizza Rolls to a knife-wielding dude outside a 7-Eleven in north Portland — but that’s a story for another column.

Holding my hand, John quickened our pace and we soon disappeared into the crowd at the stadium — leaving the guy in our dust.

I had just scammed a scalper — and I didn’t feel bad about it.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.