By Caprice Lawless | Contributing Writer

Modern life, so dominated by screens, tends to make our otherwise well-oiled friend-making skills a little rusty. Throw in a Covid epidemic and you get the loneliness epidemic currently in full swing. The good news is that simple, easy-to-learn needlework takes both hands but only partial concentration as the needleworker slowly transforms soft yarns or threads into a new creation. It’s a pastime that lends itself to conversation, because hands busy sewing absorb the nervous energy that tends to impede the ability to make the casual, personal connections we are designed to make and to maintain, as social creatures.

As I observe myself and others in the Loose Threads sessions, I’m reminded of the way my son, as a toddler, enjoyed what child development researchers call “parallel play.” Each of his peers was content to dabble in their own corner of the sandbox yet were comforted by the presence of other toddlers nearby. Maybe it’s because needleworking in groups doesn’t require as much eye-to-eye contact as conversations would otherwise. Maybe it’s all these factors combined that make the bubbly chatter feel so comforting and familiar during each Friday afternoon Loose Threads Funshop.

Sponsored by both the Concordia Neighborhood Association and the North Star Village (a senior’s social club), Loose Threads has been growing since it began last fall. It’s an adult needle crafting “funshop” (because “workshop” sounds like work) each Friday afternoon, from 1 to 4 in the Community Room at McMenamins Kennedy School (5736 NE 33rd Ave.) We off er free instructions in knitting, crochet, and embroidery for adults only.

You can bring your own insulated mug of coffee or tea from home or pick one up at the coffee shop near the front entrance of the school. We have to keep our hands clean for our sewing projects, so we eat before the sessions. We do, however, always offer Vitamin O (Oreos) to participants. There is no registration, fee, form to sign, call to make, etc. Just come down, write your first name on our 100-year-old classroom chalkboard, pull up a chair, and start needle crafting with us. If you already have an ongoing needlework project at home, you can bring it to work on whilst in the company of kindred spirits.

Stephanie Magee teaches knitting and crochet, and wears, each Friday, yet another beautiful sweater she has made. Thia Triggs teaches crochet now as well, and, like Stephanie, she often wears or brings to the sessions one of her creations. I teach free-form embroidery on felt; no embroidery hoop required. I design each week a few ready-to-complete kits for beginners (sunglass cases, mug coasters, palm-sized stuff ed animals, etc.). You are welcome to make one of those (one per participant per session).

This year, Loose Threads is coordinating with the Concordia Commons Garden Fair on Saturday, March 14th and will be offering four Concordia Creatures Plant-Pick Kits ($5 ea.) for visitors to purchase, with all proceeds going to purchase supplies for Loose Threads Funshops. The kit lineup includes four whimsical garden creatures: Sherm the Worm, Doug the Bug, Dale the Snail, and Guy the Dragonfly.

Caprice Lawless has written extensively on higher education, homesharing, technology, construction, and engineering. She moved to Oregon from Colorado in 2023, shortly after retiring from teaching college English and Journalism.

By Sam Cordes

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Sam Cordes is a Concordia resident, software developer, and freelance crossword constructor. When he’s not struggling to perfect at-home latte art, he can be found running around Alberta Park.

By Garlynn Woodsong | Contributing Writer

Hi folks, it’s Garlynn. After a few quiet years, I’m glad to be returning to this column. The need for us to talk about urbanism hasn’t been on pause, but life has been unfolding rapidly, sometimes uncomfortably, both inside and outside our front doors.

Since 2021, Portland has been through a lot. We’ve lived through extreme heat, wildfire smoke, ice storms, a lingering pandemic hangover, and a deepening housing crisis. Many civic systems feel tired, and many people feel worn down by processes that seem distant from daily life. Concordia has changed too. New neighbors have arrived, familiar faces have moved on, and the rhythms of the neighborhood have subtly shifted. And yet, some fundamentals remain remarkably steady. People still care deeply about their block, their street, their walk to the store, café, park, or school, and whether their neighborhood feels safe, welcoming, and alive.

That’s why neighborhood scale urbanism still matters. Cities aren’t only shaped by comprehensive plans and capital budgets, they’re shaped by what happens close to home. When we talk about housing, climate resilience, transportation, and public space at the neighborhood level, these issues become tangible rather than abstract. They show up as shade on a sidewalk, a place for a grandparent to live nearby, or whether kids can safely bike to a friend’s house.

Despite plenty of national and global uncertainty, there are reasons to feel cautiously hopeful about local action. Portland’s new City Council structure opens the door to more district based, locally grounded politics. Over time, this could create a clearer pathway for neighborhoods to have real authority, not just advisory roles.

One example of what that might look like is how we pay for and manage our streets. Imagine a system where residential parking permits and commercial parking meters generate revenue that is reinvested directly into neighborhood improvements. Half could support locally chosen projects through neighborhood associations, while the other half funds citywide street repair and transportation needs. There could even be a role for district level coordination, such as through Northeast Coalition of Neighborhoods (NECN). With that level of responsibility, neighborhood boards would need stronger democratic legitimacy, potentially including elections administered through Multnomah County, clearer relationships to district offices, and tighter feedback loops with district based councilors.

This kind of evolution wouldn’t happen overnight. It would require care, transparency, and trust. But it points toward a future where neighborhoods aren’t just consulted, they’re empowered.

As I pick this column back up, my goal is simple- to keep asking how Concordia can remain a place of care, resilience, and shared responsibility in uncertain times. Urbanism, at its heart, is about how we choose to live together. That conversation belongs right here.

If you have ideas, questions, or stories you think are worth exploring, I hope you’ll share them. This column works best when it reflects the lived experience of the neighbors it serves.

The views expressed in this article are not affiliated with and do not necessarily represent the CNA board.

Garlynn Woodsong is a Concordia neighbor, planner, and dad who cares deeply about the city his son will inherit. His work centers on housing, climate action, and the everyday design of walkable, people focused communities. He welcomes ideas and questions from readers at garlynn42 @ gmail.com.

Happy New Year, Concordia. The holidays were a whirlwind and now I am enjoying the quiet, crisp and surprisingly sunny days we’ve had so far this winter.

2026 brings some exciting changes to the newspaper and to Concordia Neighborhood Association. Matt Roberts, who is the Associate Vice President of Community Relations at the University of Oregon, has accepted the CNA Chair position for 2026. He is a great community connector and has been sitting on our board for three years so we are thrilled that he took on this important job. Chuck Triplett, Associate Vice President for UO Portland Campus Operations, has replaced Matt on the board.

In addition, Cathy McCarthy, who does so much good work for the social committee and for CNA as a whole, has accepted the role of Vice Chair and Autumn Voirol, who’s been creating our meeting minutes, is now officially our secretary.

We also have two new Concordia News staff members and some new contributors, too. Courtney Burns started her role as Ad Sales Representative late last year and Doug Burns, (who happens to be her husband), just took over the Designer role. New columns this year include one on urbanism in the neighborhood by Garlynn Woodsong and a charming literary column on a variety of topics by Caprice Lawless that I know you’ll enjoy.

We have a great team and 2026 is going to be a great year! Stay warm and safe out there. -Dina

Dina Sage loves engaging in the arts, outdoor activities, and home projects. She first moved to Portland in 2011, and lives with her husband, their nine year old daughter and their pets.

By Leo Newman | Contributing Writer

Tucked away a block north of busy Alberta Avenue sits the Historic Alberta House, a calm community center that stretches along the 2300 block of NE Sumner Street. Since 2015, the Alberta House has been the home of several arts non-profits, including its namesake theatre company and Vanport Mosaic. In October this year, Alberta House was sold to Moreland Holdings LLC, which belongs to 

Frank S. Baillie and The Alberta Lodge

In the early 1900s, prominent mason and businessman Frank S. Baillie was accused of embezzling nearly $15,000 (approx. $474,000 in 2025) from the Columbia Gold Mining Company (of Baker County), which he had managed since 1897. The affair resulted in criminal and civil suits against him and his employer which led to his resignation soon thereafter.

In 1919, Baillie established the Alberta Lodge. The ceremony took place one March evening in Baker’s Hall on NE Alberta and 17th Streets (the second floor of the building which now houses the Community Cycling Center and Mimosa Studios). 

On July 8th, 1923, The Alberta Lodge No. 172 of the Ancient Free and Accepted Masons laid the cornerstone of the building which would become Alberta House. In its first year, The Alberta Lodge enjoyed an above average membership, but quickly lost its dispensation in 1920 after the Grand Lodge called for the removal of all its officers after it found some guilty of “improper conduct.” After a reorganization with Woodburn businessman Frank Settlemeier and Baillie still at the helm, the Grand Lodge offered an official charter to the Alberta Lodge and commissioned it to draft a constitution. By December 1923, the club had 76 official members.

Also that year, the growing lodge acquired two plots of land on NE Sumner between 22nd and 23rd Avenue. John B. Clark, a member of the lodge, drew up plans for an Arts and Crafts style two-story concrete structure. Amos Stevens, another member, led its construction. Upon its completion in 1924, the lodge led a march from Baker’s Hall down Alberta to its new clubhouse.

Funding for the new $16,000 building was raised through a prize masquerade ball and other events hosted by other masonic groups, including the Order of the Eastern Star, at Baker’s Hall through the winter of 1923. Through either pair of double doors that open to NE 23rd, members walked directly into a spacious meeting hall fit for a theatre. During ceremonies, their wives and children were resigned to the seats on the mezzanine, which wraps around the hall on three sides. A narrow staircase winds up the far corner of the hall and leads to the office of the lodge’s Grand Master (now the office of Historic Alberta House director Vin Shambrey). In a wide hallway running the length of the main hall, the masons donned their robes before ceremonies. To the right of the hall is a parlor, which remains mostly true to its original construction, save for a new interior stairwell to the second floor. 

The Alberta Lodge hosted community events with other local masonic groups for decades, at one point amassing a membership of 450 men. But by 1986, the fear of crime in Alberta, and the impracticality of maintaining the spacious lodge pushed its 150 remaining members to relocate to a rented space in Parkrose. 

Modern Proprietors

In January, 1986 the building was sold to the Fellowship Church of God, which operated out of the small church across the street (known as the Little Church). In 2005, the church used it as collateral when purchasing a larger facility on 122nd Ave. However in 2012, after the market crash caused revenues to fall under their mortgage rates, the church defaulted on both buildings.

The abandoned building was set for demolition when it was purchased by Cerimon House, an arts and humanities nonprofit, in December, 2012. Founder Randall Stuart had come up to Portland with a cohort of Ashland thespians a few years prior and set up a theatre troupe in the Little Church across the street.  The building had fallen into considerable disrepair and Stuart spent the next two years renovating it. Cerimon House reopened in the Alberta Lodge in October 2015. The venue showcased music, films and theatre pieces that often explored gender, race and sexuality. 

Stuart retired in 2019 and handed the baton to Broadway actor and director Vin Shambrey. Shambrey’s most recent film Outdoor School is his experience with housing insecurity as a child, was nominated for Best Narrative Feature and Best Editing at the 2025 Woodstock Film Festival.  A Portland native, Shambrey rebranded the organization as the Historic Alberta House, admittedly a more community-centered name than ‘Cerimon.’ Shambrey steered Alberta House through the pandemic, but not without the help of Event Manager Jo Pierce, the nonprofit’s only other full-time employee, who has been involved since 2015. 

 For the last several years, The Vanport Mosaic, a nonprofit that raises awareness of the 1948 Vanport Flood and hosts events for the annual Vanport Festival, has operated out of Alberta House. It recently converted the mason’s locker room into a permanent installation of photos and memorabilia from the city of Vanport. 

The walls of the main hall are decorated in the larger than life paintings of the late Dutch-born Portland artist Henk Pender which depict the harrowing aftermath of the flood which displaced 18,000 people, approximately a third of them African Americans, in vivid color. The stairwell and mezzanine showcase the colorful murals of Portland artist Latoya Lovely, as well as a portrait of Shambrey. 

Earlier this year, the Historic Alberta House narrowly avoided foreclosure after being sold to a local entrepreneur in October. The benefactor, Jeffery Moreland, owner of Raimore Construction, was chosen over developers who planned to demolish the property to build an apartment complex, and has reportedly offered the Alberta House a reduced rent plan for the next three years.

Leo Newman is a paralegal and writer based in NE Portland. Trained as a historian, he enjoys exploring the history of Portland and the Pacific Northwest.

By Caprice Lawles | Contributing Writer

When I was a kid growing up in the late 1950s, a gas station was owned by a friend’s dad. The mom in the family kept order in the sunny, corner window with the counter cash register, the Coke machine, and the vinyl-upholstered, metal benches for customers. Adults sat on the benches smoking, swilling coffee they brought from home, and using the daily newspaper to help pass the time. Some read it, chatting together about alarming headlines, while others used chewed-up pencils to work the crossword puzzle or to circle classified ads for new jobs or old cars. Kids sat on the floor, reading the comics or folding discarded pages into hats. Sometimes someone would spring for nickel Cokes (in green glass bottles) for us.

Every so often, the narrow door behind the counter would open. Bits of music or news from the AM radio drifted in from the garage, where men in greasy overalls worked on cars up on hydraulic posts above them. The mixture of smells from oil, gasoline, and antifreeze was overwhelming. The place was filthy; friendly, but filthy. Every surface in the sunlit customer-waiting room was covered in the thinnest film of oil and dust.

Time was punctuated by a two-tone ring that went off each time a driver from the street pulled in for gas, the car wheels crushing the long, black, rubber hose connected to a bell. One of the mechanics would stop his work in the garage and sprint out to the pumps. They waited on customers in ways that seem out of dreams now: washing windshields and windows, checking oil, adding water to the radiator, offering to put air in tires, and fingering routes on paper maps.

Walls in gas stations were festooned with fan belts in descending sizes and plastered with advertisements warning of assorted dangers: Don’t let your battery die! or When was the last time you checked your coolant? My folks could only afford tired, old clunkers, which is why we spent so much time (and money) at the gas station/garage. Cars seemed to be iffy, rolling problems; not the shiny symbols of freedom and status Dinah Shore was singing about during the Ed Sullivan show commercials.

The owners of both the Sinclair and the Phillips ‘66 station in our neighborhood were married to sweethearts they had met in Germany during the waning months of WWII. It was not uncommon on a snowy day to see, at either station, a woman in an apron rushing in to drop off a hot lunch for her husband, then sweep the floor, wash the windows (or at least the parts she could reach) and water the geraniums she kept along the windowsills all winter. It was the last place you would think needed a flower, of all things, but the war brides saw things differently.

The affection those women had for its bright flowers against frosty glass made me a lifelong devotee of the humble, easy-to-grow geranium. Now that temperatures are falling here, it is time for me to bring my geraniums in for winter. I’ll have to cut them back quite a bit. But by January they will put on a show of bright fuchsia, red, and orange blooms.

Without saying a word, those war brides taught me how the geranium’s gaiety can mock winter skies and worrisome headlines. With each new bloom this January, I will see those women, the mechanics, the tattered posters on the walls, hear the bell signaling another sale, and see my dad chatting with another dad about engines and headlines. Maybe I’ll drink a cold Coca-Cola from a glass bottle to celebrate. The universe will be spinning, as Steinbeck said, in greased grooves.

Caprice Lawless has written extensively on higher education, homesharing, technology, construction, and engineering. She moved to Oregon from Colorado in 2023, shortly after retiring from teaching college English and Journalism.

By Esther Lerman Freeman | Contributing Writer

Have you ever wished you could just walk down to Alberta Street and see nationally recognized musicians, writers and intellectuals while also having some belly laughs and being in the company of a great audience?  Poof! The genie has granted your wish with the Live Wire Radio show at the Alberta Rose Theater (3000 NE Alberta St.). 

Live Wire Radio is an independently produced radio show that blends conversation, live music, original comedy, interviews with authors, and features all kinds of creative talent. It’s been recorded live at the Alberta Rose ten times a year for over 20 years and has just announced that it is in danger of shutting down due to $150,000 in funding shortages.

The hosts Luke Burbank and Elena Passarello are real livewires. Guests have included Pink Martini, Hari Kondabolu, Sam Sanders, Karen Russell and Cheryl Strayed, among many other notable people. I’ve been a Live Wire regular for over a decade and leave each show feeling grateful to have my brain fed, my funny bone tickled and my ears filled with music. Often, I attend a Live Wire taping and hear an author or expert I’ve never heard of, only to then see them splashed across the media the very next week. If you’ve never seen Live Wire, check it out and you’ll see why it’s so important to keep it alive. 

Live Wire has initiated an emergency fundraising campaign called “Fully Charged” and rather than chase big money funders, Live Wire is building a sustainable model powered directly by our community. The two ways to support Live Wire are to become a season ticket holder, and/or, to become a member.  There are shows both at the Alberta Rose and at Revolution Hall (in SE Portland). Season tickets pay part of the cost of producing this show but membership helps more.  You can become a member for a contribution of $5, $10, $25 (you get it, whatever you can afford) per month. 

This shift represents more than financial survival. It’s about changing who they answer to: the listeners who’ve supported Live Wire for two decades. If you value independent arts journalism and community-centered media, please consider becoming a season ticket holder, a monthly sustainer or even making a one-time gift—every single contribution claims ownership. You’re saying: I’m keeping Live Wire alive. To support please visit livewireradio.org.

Esther Lerman Freeman is a Concordia resident who is passionate about all the many local arts nonprofits and the good works they do.