Voices & Visions

Logan Magazine a fashion and lifestyle magazine for young people with disabilities! and Microsoft

Microsoft COO Kevin Turner calls Spokane native, Logan Olson, “The most inspirational person I have ever met.”

Logan Olson of Logan Magazine highlights the Microsoft Worldwide Partners Conference in Denver, CO.

(Denver, CO) On July 12, 2007 Logan and Laurie Olson of Spokane, WA took the stage at the Microsoft’s Worldwide Partners Conference in Denver, CO. Over 10,000 Microsoft partners had assembled there from around the world to listen to a keynote presentation by Microsoft COO Kevin Turner.

Logan Olson sustained a brain injury 6 years ago at the age of 16. Throughout her recovery, she dreamed of a resource for young people desiring to live vital lives inspite of their disabilities. Her dream became Logan Magazine, a full-color fashion and lifestyle magazine that has garnered nationwide attention.

Turner closed the Microsoft conference on Thursday by showing a video telling the story of Logan and her magazine. The video was shot at the Olson home in Spokane and in the offices of Klundt | Hosmer, the design firm in charge of producing the magazine and website. http://www.klundthosmer.comom

Following the video, Turner introduced Logan and Laurie and had them come on stage to speak to the attendees. Logan received two standing ovations for her inspirational story and her experience with using Windows® Vista speech recognition software to assist her in managing and editing the magazine.

Logan and Klundt | Hosmer are currently producing the third issue of the publication.

For more information on Logan Olson and the magazine see: lhttp://www.loganmagazine.com/logan.html

To view video of Logan’s segment at last week’s Microsoft Worldwide Partners Conference see: https://www.microsoft.com/partner/media/netshow/digitalwpc/video23.wvx

Happy Trails

Logan & Laurie Olson

Logan&LaurieOlson

PO Box 48262 Spokane WA 99228-1262

p.509.467.4125 c.509 991.4907

because life is always beautiful

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BIAAZ invites all brain injured artists young and old, to donate or lend their framed prose and art work suitable for display at our office and on our website. All artwork must be delivered signed and dated by the artist with contact information. Along with asking price listed on the back, if it is offered for sale. Art on loan will be displayed on a rotating basis for three to six months. Donated materials may be included in future charitable auctions to raise funds for the state brain injury association.

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Below is Art Work created by various survivors. All the artists show such great talents. We all would be proud to display any of these master pieces in our homes or offices.

LaRae Belamenti	LaRae Belamenti
LaRae Belamenti	Michael's Garden
Kelly Fuenning	Kelly Fuenning

Kelly Fuenning	Kelly Fuenning



Lynn Martinka	Lynn Martinka
Lynn Martinka	Lynn Martinka

About Artist Kelly Fuenning

Kelly was in a auto accident in April of 1998 causing a traumatic brain injury. During his rehabilitation, Kelly became interested in painting and creating new and unusual art. His early works demonstrated and reflected his love of color and primitive patterns. The art also reflected a certain level of renewal and relearning. Family members saw similarities between Kelly's own progress and his art symbolism.

Kelly's current art pieces still contain bright and bold colors and demonstrate stronger definition of form yet retain his love for mosaic patterns and modern abstract designs.

Kelly currently lives in Phoenix, AZ and the above pieces can be purchased by contacting the Brain Injury Association 602-323-9165 / 1-888-500-9165.
Besides painting, Kelly likes watching sports and spending time with his family and his adopted dogs, Amos and Spike.

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Tom Baker a Adventurous Outdoor Photographer Seeks out the beauty in nature and captures its finest moments with still photography.

TOM IS OFFERING DISCOUNTED PRICING FOR SURVIVORS AND SUPPORTERS OF BRAIN INJURY, WITH ONE THIRD OF THE PROCEEDS TO BENEFIT THE
Brain Injury Association of Arizona.

You can Visit Tom Baker on the web and see his fabulous works of art.
http://spaces.msn.com/members/tomin8tor/PersonalSpace.aspx?_c=
Email: imagemuse@msn.com
Phone: 623-536-9890

Other services include: Color/Black & White, Weddings, Portraiture,
Fine Art & Photo restoration.

Print Only: Flex Print Super High Gloss $150.00 Gloss $125.00
Print & Frame: Flex Print & Frame $425.00

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Poetic Writings from a Survivor of Brain Injury: Patricia Simons

"Since the accident I've published in poetry, memoir and short stories and have won eight awards from the Arizona State Poetry Society including a First Place. Also was first place honorable mention in the Tucson Poetry Festival and have given many readings of my work in the Tucson area. Am currently finishing up a memoir "Behind Blue Doors; an American Woman in Algeria"

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED SINCE 10/29/88

I don’t remember turning fifty
Of course I don’t remember much
of 1989 or even 1990
or sometimes even what I did yesterday
Brain injury is like that
Sometimes I dial home to the number from my childhood
Homeland 6-4410
A number seared into me like that
wood burning kit at 11 that left its scar
forever

In Minnesota to orient myself
I’d look outside; if white it must be winter
that lasts from late October to April
The dinginess of gray snow banks
can give a closer call
In spring, the smell of lilacs
singing of robins and motorcycles
on surface streets still coughing from their long
winter hibernation
Summer, heat, light, storms
Sirens singing tornado warnings
Fierce winds screaming their arrival
Fall, the flame colored trees
crunching sound of children’s new
shoes on fallen leaves

It was easier then to know just what
I should be doing
Is it time to seal plastic window covers,
to plant tulips bulbs,
stock up on Halloween candy,
to make sure the a/c is working?

Here each day the same
Blue skies, blooming orange trees
bright flowers awaiting rain
that seldom comes
Too many days I can’t get it right
when gauging season
Last spring I started writing Christmas cards
Oh well, I’ll have lots of time left in December

II.

“I know what you mean, I forget things too.”
People always say that
I have to bite my tongue
Damn, it’s not the same
Rarely do they search for a word that won’t come
forget an oven has to be on
before a cake is done
Look at a birthday card for a grandson
with no clue how to spell his name.

III.
Brain injury? When does it get easier?
Newbies ask those of us
whose outward scars have faded?
We smile ironically.
“Easier” seldom in our vocabulary
When does it become easier? —
Do we have to just accept the new selves?
until all becomes routine?

1V.

A friend says she has had to give her thoughts
of looking at her epilepsy as a given gift
A learning time
A time to realize
things that really matter.

“Gift”
What gift has these residuals brought
to me except pain, frustration,
what might have-beens?

Yet, wait, I remind myself
Before, an icy day on a Minnesota
parking lot
What did I want what dreams to fulfill?
What people were really important to my life?
A few of then-loved, more precious now,
are still in my life and others,
others who I never might have known
never taken time to see beneath façade

In those far –off days when I was always running
from job, to classes,
thoughts racing fast as an Indy 500,
When did I find time to steal an hour where I could sit and write?
Now a bookshelf holds many publications
ninety percent written since my fall, mind already clouded
when I took advantage of an empty hour
to scribble on a yellow pad or
a computer when icons make some sense
First. words came slowly but now
sometimes erupt in volumes
and time is what I have to write them

Gift?
I have learned to listen better
To re-read old favorite books
only remembering their delight
half-way through
To sit and not feel guilty just to
mindlessly watch a sunset or a sunrise
an orange cat or two on lap
When sleep won’t come
I will not chide myself for watching
inanities on TV, reruns, or CNN for hours
I know that the news, even bad reports,
stick most easily when repeated
over and over in my ear.

Sometimes I can pretend that nothing’s wrong
That I am still a person who threatens everyone
At “Trivial Pursuit” or “Jeopardy”,
I can fake it
as long as questions don’t speak of last year’s news
or ask me what I had for breakfast.

I am the same, I feel sometimes,
only adding more gray and age spots
I try to tell myself I’m the same woman who left
her house on an icy October day
never again to enter any door as I was before my key was turned

Yet I am the same
only more self-knowing, more open
I cannot lie because I cannot
remember two or more stories or excuses
It takes too much effort
to recall what I told to whom

I have learned to say no, however, to incidentals, to save energy
for what I really want to do
Sometimes I am reminded of the daily
rat race I used to run
I see photos of the young woman, wife and mother
who always wanted time, more time with naught to do.

“You have to careful what you
wish for,” nuns once told me
Ignoring them I prayed for time
for patience
for hours to sit with books
To become a teenager again watching
‘50s musicals seen now on DVD
To go through photo albums and remember details
because nothing can erase them
unlike yesterday’s grocery list

Gift?

Yes, gift,
There are the memories I relive
Nana’s soft hands brushing bangs from my eyes
Grandpa’s voice, the soft wool of his Pendleton shirt
when I’d bury my head against his shoulder
But always the smell of three long-ago newborns
as they sleep against my breast
I have the gift of no sense of time passing
those days are as they are today.

Gift,
gift
gift.

FRESH SCARS

When I go to look for them
on my body in the mirror
they are not there
There are old ones, faded lines
on varied parts
with often empty spaces underneath
where parts of me have been removed

I can trace those old scars
run fingers across them'
remember when they appeared
My granulated knees, schoolyard dodge ball
I fell. I was ten or so
little blue dots still remain within me

Three children were lifted from one scar
crying, birth fluids on newly puckered flesh
There are no outside scars for the others
three who never breathed Strange?
Scars from surgeries, hazy opiate dreams
The last, the freshest
reminder of a second bout with fear

My scars intersect at angles
white against the freckles
Their flesh feels different to the touch
a little tougher maybe
My battle scars of past won victories
not like now, while the siege is on

People say I've rarely looked better
I'm more rested they tell me
if they see me early in the day
People look for scars, for casts
for tubes tied to machines
when they judge me whole
I can only look at myself in morning
I can pretend then for a little while
that all is still the same
Not after noon though
not after the sun and I have been up hours
The eyes I look into then are circled blankness
I see my constant terror
I hear my missed words, rambling phrases
I despair having to reason with faculties
misplaced now, perhaps for forever

A fall forever changed me
My yesterdays are crystal clear
it is today where fog fingers dwell
These are the fresh scars
black curtains intersecting in my mind
bruises I re-injure daily
They are too new yet to touch
To heal them
to have them fade
may take longer than I have

+NECESSARY LISTS
For poet Deborah Keenan

Before
they, the doctors
the ones who put electrodes to my head
The therapist with whom I share my fears
The disability counselor, the caseworker
and now the poet
tell me to make lists

As if I didn't
As if the past months
would have even been half-traveled
maneuvered, negotiated
without them

If only they could see me
gathering small bits of paper
almost hourly in the day
Checking them before bedtime
as I did my baby's breathing
in their cribs at night
As I did waiting for doors to open
to hear tip-toe steps a decade ago
As I do each afternoon waiting
for my husband's key in the door.

Now I give the same attention to lists

Usually they are Post-its
Magical scraps of yellow I scatter
around the house, downstairs, phone,
the microwave, VCR, the computer
Three calendars always sticky from them
"Call for refill"; "check with attorney"
"Start dinner at 4:30"
As if I were a child again
their messages jump out at me
"Appointment at 90", "Remember to call..."
Did I
"Take new medication"
"Wash Art's work clothes"
"Give fresh water to the dog"?

Endless simple things I must now
Put in writing
Leaving little time for living.

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