The Timebank Media volunteers have been meeting for a month now. We want to approach the growth and vitality of the timebank in two ways:  supporting our current membership in better than we have been, and starting new initiatives that will strengthen our community and help others find timebanking along the way.

Supporting our membership means that our members need to be heard, so we created a survey to ask some questions about your experience, expectations, and wishes. We hope you will take the time to answers these questions. It helps us help you. Also, of course, you get a timedollar for your effort.

Look for new social opportunities in the new year, as well as more interesting ways to earn and spend timedollars. We are an all-volunteer organization, and if you feel that you would like to commit some time to our organization, every voice is valued, and every hand is needed.

Greetings Timebankers!

I have a few annoucements to make about meetings and planned community events.

Annoucement 1:  First of all there is a Timebank Volunteer meeting this upcoming Sunday, November 11th from 4 – 5:30 pm at my house, 360 Kirk Lane, Media PA.  We want to welcome anyone who has ideas, gifts, and some time to offer to the timebank and of course meeting participation is just one way to earn some timedollars.

Announcement 2: I will be moving through our timebank membership list over the next week and showing our appreciation for your membership by giving every person a free timedollar. Included in that free timedollar offer is the further offer that you will receive another timedollar for every offer and request you put into the system within the 48 hours after you receive your timedollar gift!  What a deal! We decided in our last Timebank Volunteer meeting that we wanted to find new ways to encourage people to make offers and requests — a full half of our members have not done so yet. While we appreciate the moral support of those who have paid their membership fees but aren’t using the system, the system works much better when there is a plethora of offerings to choose from, and when we can see everyone’s needs fully expressed in the timebanking community. No one can help you if they don’t know you need help.

Annoucement 3:  Speaking of people needing help: The Media Business Authority has needs of volunteers on a fairly regularly basis and would love timebankers’ help. This is a great way to help your community in a myriad of ways.  We would like to start a monthly community-wide cleanup of State Street. Here are a couple that were recently posted:

http://www.facebook.com/groups/444116312300895/

also

Kathy Lundgren would like to schedule a life-mob in December and is offering timedollars for anyone willing to come and help her out for a few hours. She would like to schedule it for Friday morning December 7 from 9-12 am and needs help with these projects:

• moving scrap wood from a workshop to our driveway;
• cutting down weed trees;
• dismantling a brushpile;
• shredder chipping branches with a commercial grade chipper;
• dismantling a large compost pile;
• moving the compost up to the vegetable garden

by Carol Kennedy, Timebank Media Member

I am a natural-born packrat. Have trouble getting rid of stuff. So I found myself being a relatively new member of the Media Time Bank with too many clothes in my closet. Things that used to fit me, things that used to look nice on me, things that people had given me but I had never worn … you get the idea.

So I was talking to a friend of mine, Marion Yaglinski, and I mentioned this sad state of affairs, and she suggested that she could come over and help me go through my clothes and get rid of stuff I don’t use any more. (I had already bought a book, “Unclutter Your Life in One Week” at the Pendle Hill book store, but so far, the book had only succeeded in adding to the clutter in my room, but “too many books” is another story altogether …)

Anyway, Marion came over and quickly got to work. She had me empty all my dresser drawers and closets and put everything out on the bed, then she held each item up for me to look at, one at a time, and tell her definitively whether or not I would ever wear it again. We divided everything into three piles … keep, get rid of, or “needs to be fixed”.  When I wavered and could not decide, she held me to task and sternly asked “Are you honestly going to wear it ever again?  Yes or no?”  Keeping an item for purely sentimental reasons was not an option, unless I was going to start wearing it again or hang it on the wall as a work of art.

Finally, when we were finished going through the clothes, Marion took the “give away” pile with her, and disposed of it, at an undisclosed location (I assume it was GoodWill, but I am not really sure), so that I could not change my mind.  After she left, I felt a great weight lifting off my shoulders, because I knew the clothes would find a good home and I would not have to keep worrying about the ones that no longer fit me, etc.  And with my new, leaner supply of clothing, I rediscovered things I had forgotten I had, but knew I wanted to try wearing again.  The whole process took about an one time dollar, and it was fun.  Something I had been putting off doing for a few years had been accomplished, and it felt great.

This was a great way to spend a time dollar!  I highly recommend it, if you have a friend who can help you stay focused as you unclutter your life.

by Louise Bierig

I bought my bike, a $350. Ross mountain bike, twenty-seven years ago, when I was ten. I paid for it with the earnings from my lawn mowing business. As a kid, I rode it around the neighborhood, with occasional trips to town or nature trails.

When I went to college in Iowa, my bike became my primary mode of transportation to my classes and job. When, after graduation, I drove myself out to California, the bike, hitched to a rack, continued to catch my eye as I glanced back through the rear view mirror.

In California, I rode the streets of Berkeley and joined in Critical Mass rides where cyclists took over the streets at rush hour. I biked the Ohlone Trail, which followed the underside of the Bay Area Rapid Transit tracks, listening to the whoosh of the trains as they sped overhead.

When I moved to Media, my bike came along, and I learned to navigate the least bike-friendly streets I’d ridden.

Always my bike was a symbol of freedom, a quick way to get around and a good way to exercise.

One day in 2006, I got my tires stuck in the trolley tracks on State Street and found myself crashed in the street. Some Delaware County Ladies saw me crash and shrieked. More embarrassed than hurt, I jumped right back up and pedaled away.

Although my only injury was a large bruise on my leg, I left my bike parked in the barn. Someone told me I needed to buy a bike helmet. Suddenly, bike riding felt too daunting.

Then my life entered a period of illnesses, injuries, and surgeries. I also had a baby. There were a few years where I simply could not ride a bike. I still felt overwhelmed by the basic act of buying a helmet and getting my bike tuned up.

Slowly, the timing started to feel right again. My two-year-old son wanted a bike, which we ordered by mail. Then we went to the Schwinn shop to buy him a helmet. He picked out another for me-blue to match his. We wore them around the house while we waited for his bike to arrive.

That summer I rode my in-laws bikes at the shore, then while on vacation, rented a bike with a child seat and rode my son around the state park.

It wasn’t long before I wanted the freedom of my bike again. I also had some time dollars so I contacted Ira Josephs, local bike enthusiast, and laid out my plan: I wanted my bike fixed up, a child seat installed, and my old bike rack mounted on my car. Ira said he could do it all. In the meanwhile, someone on the TTM Swap Board donated a child seat to me.

A week later, my bike was all set. I paid Ira three time dollars and was off on my bike again, free to ride through the neighborhood, into town for festivals and playgroups, and along Ridley Creek, watching the autumn leaves fall into the creek. We sang as we rode through the tunnel and my son cheered me on, “Fast, Mom. Go fast!”