People gather and hold hands as singer and songwriter Noah sings his song "Now More Than Ever" as part of Monday's Oxfest celebration at Esther Short Park.Photo Gallery
A few years ago, the world was shocked when a Portland jail booking officer compiled the Faces of Meth, a series of photographs showing the effects of methamphetamine on addicts.
Monday, former addicts turned that story on end, taking time out to show their Faces of Hope at a daylong event to celebrate sobriety and recovery.
“It’s the opposite of Faces of Meth,” said Wendy Nowik, who clutched her portrait Monday morning during the event, part of the daylong Oxfest celebration at Esther Short Park. The “Ox” stands for Oxford House, a nonprofit organization that offers group living in home settings for recovering addicts and alcoholics who can commit to sobriety. There are more than 400 Oxford Houses in Washington and Oregon.
Nowik shared her grim story with the crowd, and her inspiring message about how her faith in God and help from her peers helped her to a better life.
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She used methamphetamine for 7½ years, even after her son was born. But she paid for her lifestyle.
“I basically lost everything: my son, my freedom,” she said Monday. “I was homeless and living on the streets.”
Finally, she went to an inpatient drug rehabilitation facility, then to an Oxford House, where she met her future husband, Tony. Tony was also a recovering addict, with a 24-year addiction and a criminal record.
Happy ending? Not exactly. They tried to find a better life. Sometimes they failed. They were spiritual, but didn’t put their lives fully in God’s hands, Wendy said.
She remembers one night they went to church at the Lord’s Gym, but they were, to use her description, “loaded.” Then a miracle happened. She remembers collapsing on the altar, and an overwhelming feeling of the spirit of the Lord.
From there, the Nowik’s path led steadily upward. That same week, she regained visitation rights with her 16-year-old son, Zach Houde. It inspired her to give up the drugs for good.
She moved to Samaritan House, a faith-based recovery home for women. She went to school, and earned her credential as a certified medical assistant. She and Tony, who also had gained his sobriety, married.
Now the family, including Tony’s daughters, Dallas, 14, and Autymn, 11, lives together.
Dallas said how proud she was of her parents.
“They have changed a lot,” she said. “They won’t go back to using, because they know how happy their life is without” methamphetamine.
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The Nowiks now enjoy routine family life. The girls go shopping — Tony doesn’t like to spend money on new clothes for himself — and the entire family takes walks. They volunteer Friday nights at the Lord’s Gym meal. And Dallas and her stepmom spend time together.
“I go talk to her and she lays on my bed,” Dallas said.
“I’m just proud of my parents because they’ve been clean and sober for three years,” said Autymn. “I know they aren’t going to do drugs and (they’ll) be there for us.”
Though Monday’s events were a group celebration, each story was similarly personal. Some attendees were celebrating years of sobriety. Many were celebrating months. A few were celebrating days. One had been sober for a half-day.
Together, the participants reported 3,517 years, one month, and 16½ days of sobriety, said Patty Katz, board chairwoman of Hands Across the Bridge Oregon and Washington. The Hands event was the signature moment of the day, as people in recovery and their supporters from Washington and Oregon flooded onto the Interstate 5 Bridge and clasped hands.
It was the ninth year for the Hands Across the Bridge event, and the 11th for Oxfest, Katz said. She estimated about 3,000 people participated in one or more of the day’s events, which were timed to coincide with National Recovery Month.
A different power
While the Nowiks relied on a newly strengthened religious faith to tame their demons, Kirk Fries relied on a different sort of power: A 1976 Shovelhead Electra Glide, manufactured by Harley-Davidson.
Fries, of Vancouver, is a member of the Portland-based Solutions Motorcycle Club, a group of bikers who talk to kids and adults alike on how to get clean, stay clean, and have fun in recovery.
“It’s easy to do the things you’ve always done,” said Fries, whose nickname is Know-Ya.
“When you ride motorcycles, everyone assumes you do drugs and alcohol.”
At least, that’s how it was with him. He said he grew up in a family of bikers, and as a little kid learned to fetch beer for his parents and their thirsty friends. Soon he was stealing a few sips, and then a few bottles. By his teenage years, he developed addictions that intensified into adulthood.
On Aug. 28, 2007, he turned himself in for treatment. Since then, he’s regained his family and re-entered the bricklayers’ union. Life is better. And he has his Harley.
“I wanted to stay riding and I wanted to do it clean and sober,” Fries said. Monday was a chance for him, and the others, to celebrate that freedom, and a road to their future.
