July 31, 2008

A Big Heart in a Small Town
Though a transplant to Sherman County, Sherrie Martin finds her niche promoting her small town

By RACHEL DOUGHTY
of The Chronicle

     After driving miles and miles past wheat fields on a winding road visited by strong gusts of wind, a sign welcomes me to Moro, a tiny town full of farmers and amiable people. Not knowing who I am, friendly faces turn to see who’s visiting their community. Here, everybody knows everybody else.
     I glance to the left and see a place called Moro Now & Then, Coffee and Collectibles, a shop on the main drag with a small group of people gathered around the cash register. One woman with an endearing, resounding laugh stands behind the counter, smiling broadly.
     Glancing around, shelf after shelf contains glass dining sets and vases in colors from aqua to lime to cherry red, all arranged by hue. One shelf holds old toys, faded but full of character — little tractors, horse figurines, an Annie Oakley jigsaw puzzle. Black and white photos capture Moro of old.
     The woman behind the counter approaches me with a warm welcome, for she knows who I am.
     “Look guys, she’s from the newspaper. They’re featuring me!” she shouts, breaking out in infectious laughter, as if finding it ridiculous that her life should be featured in any newspaper. Everyone else laughs with her, and I laugh, too.
     The woman is Sherrie Martin, the owner, creator and brains behind Moro Now & Then. Not that she’d take the credit. Sherrie makes sure to commend her friends, her husband, her daughters, the community — anyone before herself.
     Even though she moved here 14 years ago when she married local farmer Bob Martin, you’d think she grew up here. Sherrie just might be friends with everyone in the area, and everyone in the area just might be friends with her. She raves of small-town living, bonfires and potlucks with pride in her voice and light in her eyes.
     Of her shop, she speaks with the same humble pride, not forgetting the support of friends and family.
     She digs for old photos of the building, before she made renovations. It used to be a garage, and there’s no evidence of that left. She tells stories of sheetrocking the walls, laying tile on the floors and how much her muscles ached $15,000 later. Her door opened two and a half years ago, and the business still runs strong.
     Sherrie hobbles around today, nursing a broken ankle. Her limp shows her pain, but her joyous smile and kind, soft eyes hardly falter. She still fetches beverages and the occasional muffin.
     “It’s just so stupid, I just stepped off the curb. Why couldn’t I just have a better story, like I jumped out of a helicopter or something. I went skydiving — Landed wrong,” Sherrie jokes.
     I can’t help but think she tried to keep that same, positive attitude while suffering from cancer just last year. Two months after she opened her shop in April 2006, Sherrie was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Her friend, Carol Sather, took over while women in the town ushered Sherrie to Celilo Cancer Center for treatments.
     Six months later, Sherrie found herself working part-time.
     “This place is what kept me going, having to come in here and work each day,” Sherrie says. “It took awhile to get my strength back.”
     Her lively disposition, endless energy and fit frame make you think otherwise.      Not quite cancer-free a year, Sherrie looks healthy and vivacious. She has a heart bigger than the town in which she lives, her eyes sparkle with excitement and her legs are constantly on the go. Although she’d rather not dwell on the subject, she admits that surviving cancer changed her outlook.
     “When you’re in that situation, you learn to really appreciate life. A lot of it’s attitude and will to keep going. You have to be positive, you have to look at the good. You can always find the bad, but it’s more fulfilling to look at the good.      Going through something like that, it gives you a new attitude. I do have a new attitude in life — towards my friends, my family. It’s almost a blessing, in a way,” Sherrie said.
     “Kind of a horrible way to get that blessing,” she laughs. “So what else do you want to know about me? I’m spilling my guts.”
     “I knew I shouldn’t have had that coffee!” she shouts to Carol.
     Carol helps her in the shop some days, and Sherrie’s mother-in-law, Sharon Martin, pitches in, too. Amongst the three, Moro Now & Then is open for business Monday through Saturday.
     With Carol tending to customers, Sherrie offers me a tour.
Stuffed full of antiques, the deceptively spacious building holds everything from Coca-Cola collectibles and a three-foot tall dollhouse, to iron tools and ornately-designed pocketknives. Sherrie supports local artists and authors, displaying their paintings, postcards and books. The neatly organized shelves make navigation simple. Sherrie loves to decorate, and Carol told me: “You can put in your article that the rearranging never stops.”
     “I can’t leave it the same for long,” Sherrie laughs.
     With seemingly endless supplies of antiques and a constant crowd, you’d think her shop has always been there. Located on I-97, traffic passing through often stops off for coffee, or just to stretch their legs.
     “We have repeat customers coming through, stop in once a year, come in from Bend or something like that,” Sherrie said. “It’s fun to see them come back.”
     Meeting new people dominates as Sherrie’s favorite part of the job. A bell chimes every time the door opens, and she smiles and hollers a greeting and an offering of coffee. She jumps up and hugs familiar friends, and introduces me to all of them. She shouts conversations over tables and bookshelves, and banters energetically with new customers as if they’re old pals.
     And something tells me she unlocks that red-painted door with the same bounce in her step every morning — because if cancer or a broken ankle can’t keep her down, I’m not sure anything can.