Wally McAllister: My Holladay Park “Sit Spot”: Reflections on Watching a Community Emerge
Over a whirlwind 90 days this summer, our three Summer Programming Leads worked to fill Holladay Park with life, community, and connection. As part of our Lloyd Live at the Park grant-funded sprint, they planned and hosted events designed to bring neighbors together. In this series, we asked each of them to share their reflections on the experience, the people they met, and the lessons they learned. Read Cal’s reflection here and Dan’s here. The following is Wally’s:
This summer, I had the pleasure of working with the Lloyd EcoDistrict as a Summer Programming Lead. Alongside Dan Fair and Cal Storrs, we programmed Holladay Park for 90(!) consecutive days. We offered regular favorites like coffee & coworking mornings and the Sunday concert series. We hosted large gatherings that drew hundreds of people, such as Party on Portland, earthquake preparedness night, and Camp Holladay. We introduced special events featuring community members like Chris Williams from the Bird Alliance, as well as constituent hours with City Council members Elena Pirtle-Guiney and Sameer Kanal. We had our duds too. A movie night where no one stayed to watch the whole movie. A book club where no one brought a book. Still, we experimented with everything that we could imagine and manage—silent disco, yoga, clothing swap, trash pickup, zine workshop, open mic, Lego day, aerial dance performance, and a pup costume contest.
When I was an undergraduate at the University of Oregon, I took a course in environmental education during the winter of my senior year. Part of my homework for the course was to find a “sit spot”, where, once a week, I would go to the exact same spot, sit there for 20 minutes to write and draw what I observed. I found a cozy, private spot among the trees in Eugene’s Amazon Park. As the season changed, I noticed how plants seemingly grew from nothing but dirt. I noticed how the birds began to come back after a winter away. Puddles one week were flowers the next. A log, bare one week, had tiny mushrooms begin to emerge one week to the next until they were fist-sized. Life sprang up out of this tiny area and changed the entire vibe of it, becoming a “third place” for me, one that was purely for the observation and appreciation of nature.
My time in Holladay Park this summer had a similar feeling. In early July, when we kicked off our programming, the taste of summer had just begun. The city was buzzing. The days were long and sunny. In the park, we were finding our footing. We tried a game night where no one stayed over 5 minutes playing a game. We had multiple coffee & coworking mornings where no one used the Wi-Fi. But we were getting the word out. People stopped and asked what we were doing. There were times when I felt a little on edge. People would look at us with curiosity, but also with hesitation. Who were these orange-vested people playing music and setting up tables and chairs in the park?
As time passed and the frequent park-goers accepted the fact that we were only providing good (and free) things, they began to talk to us a little longer. Smile a little more. Tell us how much they appreciated us being there. We were, ahem, growing on them.
At our second clothing swap of the summer, one frequent attendee brought clothes she no longer wore, cooking items, and miscellaneous trinkets that were taking up too much space in her apartment. She hung around as folks from all walks of life swooped in and found something they had been missing. As she was leaving, she had this big smile on her face, on the verge of tears, and said, “This has really made my day. My week. Heck, my year. I am so ecstatic that people are taking away all my junk!”
We had many neighbors and friends who frequented Holladay Park this summer, attending our events, enjoying the space, and stopping by for a quick bite or chat. We tried many avenues to get the word out. Newsletters. Physical signs in the park. Flyering at apartment buildings. Social media posts. Some of my favorite moments, however, came when people would stumble upon us as they strolled through the park. They’d see us with a carafe of coffee, or our butts up in downward dog, or hear the sweet sound of a guitar strumming below the multiple-century-old trees. They’d stop at our table with a look of befuddlement, questioning the reality that they could have just randomly come upon a free cup of Keia & Martyn’s coffee. A free yoga class. A free concert in the trees.
During the final iteration of coffee & coworking, a couple sauntered by, passing time before a Wednesday matinee at the cinema down the street. They had that look in their eye, a little awe, a little confusion. I told them about our programming. Offered them a free coffee. Asked how they were enjoying the space. When they had settled in a bit and had moved into the enjoyment phase of their free cup of joe, the woman looked at me and said, “This right here is what we need. Especially right now, this is exactly what we need. We need more community events. More people out and about, meeting their neighbors, and enjoying our public spaces.”
In the end, that’s what Lloyd Live at Holladay Park has always been about. Bringing people together, ensuring a welcoming and engaging environment, and enjoying the space that belongs to all of us.