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79 °F Forecast | Road Cams Friday, August 6, 2004 Today's News | Classifieds | Autos | Homes | Jobs | Tempo | Health | Community | Home Delivery SECTIONS Home Page Local News Sports Business Obituaries Life Opinion - Politics Tempo AP News Weather Classified Archives Site Map SPECIAL SECTIONS Since We Asked Outdoor Journal Prime Times Wellness Connection Readers' Choice Real Estate Showcase Joy Magazine Homelife Magazine Wedding Guide Rogue Valley's Finest EXTRA Newspaper in Education Personals Movie Times TV Times E The People MARKETPLACE Find a Car Find a Home Find a Job Classifieds Place an ad eSouthernOregon Automotive Communities Entertainment Publications Recreation Calendar CUSTOMER SERVICE Frequent Questions Advertising Information Home Delivery Employment Contact Us Media Kit Network Affiliate Oregon Road Conditions & Cams Email Story to a Friend July 4, 2004 Clifford Clark, foreground, and Scott Songer belay a safety rope as Lenny Short is lowered to the ground. Short was one of the veterans who completed a four-week ropes course by walking on a cable 30 feet above the ground. Mail Tribune / Roy Musitelli Trust me Veterans learn to work together — and learn about themselves — in a demanding ropes course at the dom in White City By PAUL FATTIG Mail Tribune After completing a safety check of his climbing harness and support team, Terrance Hayes took a deep breath and looked up. Some 30 feet overhead was a steel cable stretched taut between two poles. Attached to a stout rope belayed and anchored by his team, Hayes, 44, an Army veteran who served in Europe, was ready to climb the pole and step out on the cable. Another cable running parallel five feet above would be his guide. But first he shared a few thoughts with the other 11 veterans gathered around him Thursday. Advertisement "One of my goals is to have more trust in people," he said. "What I want to leave up there is a fear of heights," he continued, then added half-seriously, "What I want to leave down here is me." Hayes climbed the pole, walked out on the cable and was belayed down by the other members of Cohort 41, the latest class to graduate from a four-week ropes course at the Department of Veterans Affairs Southern Oregon Rehabilitation Center and Clinics in White City. Graduation day is independence day for the veterans, all residents at the facility. They have two weeks left to complete the entire 10-week course, which includes an Experiential Learning Program that provides an in-depth study of the brain and personality to explain human behavior. The veterans already knew the ropes when it came to life on the street: Many were homeless, faced unresolved substance-abuse problems and had not felt trust for others since they shed their military uniforms. Cohort 41 reflects a rich microcosm of America: African Americans, European Americans, Hispanic Americans and Native Americans. Ranging in age from early 30s to late 50s, they represent veterans from the Vietnam War to the first Gulf War. One worked in the coal mines of Wyoming, another sold Oregon real estate. There is a painter, commercial banker, dietitian, construction worker, landscaper, orchard employee. Some have been married; others have led a solitary life. Early in the ropes sequence, one veteran, who didn’t stay the course, lobbed a loaded question into the cluster of men sweating under the sizzling summer sun. "Does anyone know what we are supposed to achieve out here?" he asked. "Not yet, but we’ll know when we achieve it," replied the ever philosophical Fred "Country" Presley, 50, a former cowpuncher and coal miner from Wyoming. "They use big words — I ‘countrify’ it," he said during a break, explaining his nickname. Any words that get the point across is fine with Francis Gilbert, acting chief of psychology at the facility. "What we are trying to do is give them a foundation for what they will be going through later," he explained, referring to both the ELP and the ropes course. Woven into the ropes course two years ago this month, the ELP teaches an understanding of the brain that allows participants to "reason out" the likely consequences of their actions, both short- and long-term, Gilbert said. The ropes course began about nine years ago. The ELP provides veterans with insight that can be applied to their own experiences, he said. Participants are given written assignments both in class and as homework. Although those assignments are neither collected nor read by the staff, participants are encouraged to share the material in class discussions. While they are climbing through the ropes course, participants have homework each night, putting down on paper what they learned in class in context with what is happening on the course. As a group, they invariably go through four stages, according to Gilbert. "The first is ‘forming’ — coming together as a group, getting to know each other’s names," he said. That phase is followed by one called "storming," he added. "They start saying things like, ‘I’m sick and tired of all this B.S.,’ ‘’ he said. "Someone else may say, ‘And I’m really sick of your whining.’ " Then comes "norming," in which participants begin to normalize their relationships. "They start looking at ways to get along, to work together," he said. Finally, they reach the "performing" stage. "At this point they know what each other’s strengths and weaknesses are and start coming together," Gilbert said. "They are bonding at this point." Some cohorts never reach the bonding point, leaving them grounded on the ropes course. The first few weeks are spent working on the ground, learning teamwork, safety and trust. Leading Cohort 41 through the ropes course were Judith Kurinsky, an addictions counselor and nurse, and Wes Magness, a recreational therapist. Both are veteran climbers, having worked on the ropes course since its inception. "In order to help each other, they have to touch each other," Kurinsky observed as members of Cohort 41 worked closely together in an exercise threatening their personal space. "It’s hard for some to get close to anyone — it’s part of their defense." As she and Magness worked with Cohort 41, that defensive shield faded away as a bond of trust began to form. They learned to tie the "bone on a bite" knot used to secure the rope to a climber’s harness. Each repeated the phrase, "Screw down so you don’t screw up" when they checked to make sure carabiners were fastened properly. They also shared inner thoughts. During one session under a tent on the ropes course grounds, they talked about being on the ropes in life. Army veteran Leonard "Lenny" Short, 52, noted several loved ones had committed suicide, including his girlfriend three years ago. "Without this place, I would have hung myself a long time ago," he said. Fellow Army veteran Leonard Gump, 54, of Portland, later talked about having attempted suicide with a .357 caliber pistol in 2000. As a result, he lost his eyesight in his right eye. "I’m so thankful I’m here," he said. "Otherwise I’d be back under a bridge or dead." Later, when he stood atop the cable, he quipped, "I can see clearly now," prompting cheers from the rest of Cohort 41. Roosevelt "Rosie" Johnson, 45, who spent 10 years in the military, serving in both the Navy and the Air Force, said one of his biggest fears was failure. "I’m scared of failing — I don’t want to fail," said the Seattle resident. He didn’t fail. "I haven’t had this much fun in a long time," he said after achieving the high climb and taking a ride on the "zip line" stretched across the ropes course. "It’s been well worth it." Clifford Clark, 34, is a former Marine who looks like he could still run 12 miles and breeze through an obstacle course. He belayed the rope to many of the climbers. "Part of the ropes course reminds me a little of the military," said Clark, who had served in an elite reconnaissance unit in the Corps. "But there is a lot more safety here than in the service." He plans to return to his home state of Washington, then go to college to become an alcohol and drug counselor. But first he left a portion of himself up on the pole. "I’m going to leave part of my anger up there — I don’t know if I can live without some of it," he said before scrambling up the pole. Scott Songer, 59, who served in the Navy in Vietnam and had worked as a nutritionist and a program clerk, also scaled the pole with ease. "This is really good for self-confidence and building trust — things that a lot of us have trouble with," said Songer, who hails from Florida but has lived in the Portland area for more than 20 years. Army veteran Dennis Sleighter, 57, a real estate broker from Salem who has been battling alcoholism since 1993, overcame his fear of heights to walk out on the cable. When one of his cohorts asked him why he was panting so hard, Sleighter had a quick reply: "Because it scared the hell out of me." Yet he was exuberant over having achieved the climb as well as having been sober for six months. "This program has saved my life," said Sleighter, who graduated from Portland State University in 1969, majoring in social psychology. "The ambience of the place is real positive," he added. "I’ve been treated like an adult. No one on the staff looked down on me because I’ve got a problem." Being treated with respect is an important aspect in recovery, said Presley, an Army veteran who was homeless until he arrived at the domiciliary. "It’s nothing I’m proud of, but I was able to survive," said the Wyoming native. "It’s a little harder than most people think it is." He can tell you about days without eating, about sleeping under bridges, about drinking himself into oblivion. He wears a wooden cross, a gift from a fellow at a "detox" unit back in Wyoming. One of several who couldn’t climb because they were grounded by medical constraints, Presley said he initially came to the ELP with a negative attitude. "But I found out it was something I needed to do," he said. "I know now why I react to certain situations the way I do." Most of the veterans didn’t know each other before mustering for the course, he said. "There isn’t anybody here I wouldn’t fall down for now," he said. "We weren’t that way from day one. We had to work at it." Recreational therapist Magness, who noted he isn’t too keen about heights but trusts the equipment, handed out medallions to Cohort 41. The ropes course represents the obstacles they can overcome on the outside, he told them. "What you guys did inside this fence, you can take outside," he said, later adding, "It doesn’t end here. It starts here." Reach reporter Paul Fattig at 776-4496 or e-mail him at [email protected] Mail Tribune Home Local News | Sports | Business | Obituaries | Life Opinion - Politics | AP News | Archives | Site Map E Southern Oregon | Classified Copyright © 1997-2004 Mail Tribune. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy | Terms & Conditions Website Feedback ADVERTISERS A D V E R T I S E R S RESOURCES Oregon Road Conditions & Cams SPECIAL SECTIONS Auto Finder Job Finder Home Finder Joy Magazine Homelife Magazine Tempo Readers' Choice Real Estate Showcase Since We Asked Food for Thought Wellness Connection Outdoor Journal Moving to Southern Oregon? 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