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A new clinic has recently opened on the Grand Ronde reservation in eastern Oregon to address gaps in care for tribal members.
Eric Tegethoff has more.
The Cheryle A. Kennedy Public Health Clinic expands the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde’s health system and will provide a range of benefits, including preventative services like vaccinations, dental care, and nutrition classes.
Kelly Rowe, health director for the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde, says the the goal of the clinic is to ensure tribal members have health services nearby.
“The whole thought behind the big clinic was to bring everything here to Grand Ronde so people could get it without having to travel.”
With the clinic, members won’t have to drive long distances for most of the their health-care needs.
The closest city is 50 miles away.
Enrolled members of the Grand Ronde can get free health services from the hospital.
Tribal members say self-reliance is nonnegotiable because of their long history of mistreatment by the federal government.
The Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde were created in 1857 after the federal government forcibly removed the 29 distinct bands of the Tillamook people from the Oregon coast.
Rowe says the goal is to add even more health services to the clinic.
“They’re very committed to making sure that they’re providing health care and providing as much as possible for the membership.”
This story is a collaboration with Oregon News Service and Daily Yonder
(Photo: Michelle Hanson)
About the only signs of the rare white raven that entertained Anchorage last winter are pictures posted on a Facebook page, taken before it disappeared.
It’s a photo parade of the bird’s greatest hits, with its trickster nature on full display as it relished pieces of toast and tater tots from restaurant dumpsters.
Thousands and thousands of photos were taken and yet, as Rhonda McBride from our flagship station KNBA tells us, the bird remains a mystery.
Anchorage’s love affair with the white raven began last October, when it was spotted in a neighborhood called Spenard, with lots of restaurants and lots of dumpsters.
To the delight of photographers, the bird seemed to enjoy playing to the cameras and was quite vocal.
The bird went silent in April, when it left town with most of the ravens that had wintered there.
Biologists say this is normal – that ravens fly far afield in the summer in search of solitude to nest and raise their young.
Even so, the White Raven’s departure has left a hole in the heart of Spenard.
“We were able to realize and see something that had been foretold.”
Charlene Apok says Alaska Natives have many stories about how the White Raven would someday appear as a messenger of hope and healing.
Last winter, she says she saw the bird a lot from her office building, where White Raven’s visits caused considerable excitement.
“Oh, White Raven out this window. Then you hear the whole building, thump, thump thump. Everyone would run across the building to see the raven.”
Apok says she misses White Raven, but says bird’s absence leaves time and space to reflect.
Aaron Towarak points to the roof of the old La Mex Restaurant in Spenard. (Photo: Rhonda McBride)
Aaron Towarak: “I couldn’t really believe it. It was kind of surreal in the moment.”
Towarak may have been one of the first people to photograph the bird.
He saw it on October 20, as he walked along Spenard.
At first, he thought it was a seagull.
“But then I looked a little closer and there’s another raven with it, and then it cawed. And I was like, is that a White Raven?”
Towarak does know something about raven sounds. He spent his childhood in Unalakleet learning how to talk to the birds.
Towarak says White Raven marks an important turning point in his life. He was living in a hotel, waiting to get into an alcohol and drug treatment program, but relapsed and was kicked out.
“It’s a tough when you’re in your addiction to feel much outside of wanting that high. But in that moment, it kind of re-awoke something in me. I felt wonder.”
Towarak eventually got into a treatment program, found sobriety, got a job, and reunited with his children, a journey that began with a call from White Raven.
Towarak never did try out his raven call on the bird. But perhaps if it returns to winter in Anchorage, he’ll get a chance to say “thank you.”
(Photo: Aaron Towarak)
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