While living in St. Louis in the early 90s, I found myself in the middle of an “100-year flood.” This may be the closest I have come to living through a slow, growing disaster until this pandemic. During disasters, where do we find comfort?

Deborah Westervelt, a 2011 St. Louis Regional Art Commission CAT Institute graduate, a writer, and social justice advocate, has worked in community arts beginning in the 80’s with the St. Louis City Detention Center’s volunteer theatre workshop with Don Ellis. Later projects include co-Producing Peace Out!, a collaborative social justice and arts event that staged poems from around the world. In Tennessee, she worked to pioneer the first agency-based voter registration program. After serving a congressional internship, being awarded a Truman Scholarship, she was able to complete graduate studies at the Brown School of Social Work, Washington University. Missouri highlights include developing a statewide public defender alternative sentencing program funded through a public/private partnership well before such innovations as “drug courts.” Deborah served as past St. Louis Chapter Chair of the Missouri Coalition Against the Death Penalty and Missouri N.A.S.W. PACE. As a practicum instructor, she taught for both Washington and St. Louis Universities graduate schools of Social Work. Currently, semi-retired, Deborah enjoys Colorado life with Sue Westervelt, her partner and their two rescued hound dogs, Emmy Lou and June Carter.
While living in St. Louis in the early 90s, I found myself in the middle of an “100-year flood.” This may be the closest I have come to living through a slow, growing disaster until this pandemic. During disasters, where do we find comfort?
Trail Angels and the Trail of Life By Deborah Westervelt Backpacking is walking towards something. The route could be thru, in and out, or circular. The Appalachian Trail is a thru hike that includes some of the steepest gradients in the United States. It is often called “The Long Green Tunnel” due to the density […]
It was the 80’s. No internet. No cellphones. A $5,000 credit card limit spelled FREEDOM!
Change Welcome every guest, No matter how grotesque. Be as hospitable to calamity as to ecstasy, To anxiety as to tranquility, Today’s misery sweeps your home clean, Making way for tomorrow’s felicity. Rumi At home Sue and I often sit in our backyard. It’s become a place of solace during the months of pandemic. Like […]