Today we’d like to introduce you to Trina Henderson.
Hi Trina, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
“Hi, my name is Rod, and I like to party.”
If you know Hot Rod, you know the meme. I use it way more often than I probably should.
Swap Rod for Trina and, honestly, it fits.
I do like a party. But probably not for the reason you think.
What I really love is seeing the vision before it exists. Give me an empty field, a garage, a blank room, a
community tradition that disappeared, or even an idea scribbled on a napkin, and my brain immediately
starts thinking about what it could become.
Then comes the fun part: the people, the planning, the little details, and the slightly controlled chaos of
making it all happen.
Apparently, I have always been this way.
I grew up in a small house with a huge backyard, and my childhood was very much an ’80s childhood. We
rode banana-seat bikes, played with the neighborhood kids in the street, drank from the garden hose, and
knew it was time to head home when the streetlights came on.
Main and Oak were parallel streets, and I grew up within about a block of both of them. That little area was
basically my whole world.
We did not have a lot of money, but I did not really know that then. To me, we had bikes, friends, cousins, a
big backyard, and plenty of room to make our own fun.
What I did notice was that during the summers, we did not see my dad very much.
As an adult, I understand why.
There were years my parents struggled just to buy us school clothes. My dad worked overtime and double
shifts because that was what he needed to do to take care of us.
I think watching my parents make things work with what they had shaped me more than I realized at the
time.
So did one very chaotic Thanksgiving.
One year, family came from all over the country, from Florida to California, and somehow everyone ended
up at our little house.
Picture roughly 900 square feet, a dozen kids, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and Thanksgiving
dinner spilling into the garage with folding tables and plastic chairs.
I was the oldest cousin, so naturally I decided I was in charge.
And apparently even then, I thought every gathering needed decorations.
I went to the craft store and came home with bright orange plastic turkey cutouts, streamers, and
tablecloths. I decorated that garage like we were hosting the event of the year.
It was loud. It was crowded. It was complete chaos.
And I loved every minute of it.
Looking back, that probably tells you a lot about me.
I loved bringing people together. I loved making something ordinary feel special. And even then, I could
look at a garage full of folding chairs and see more.
That part of me never really went away.
For years, though, I thought success had a formula.
I thought I needed more education. Maybe a master’s degree. Another credential. Something that would
make me feel like I had officially earned the right to be taken seriously.
Life taught me something else.
Education matters, but so do experience, work ethic, character, and relationships.
Especially relationships.
I have learned that almost every interaction leads somewhere. A person you volunteer beside becomes a
close friend. A customer becomes a community partner. Someone you met years ago suddenly becomes the
person who connects you to the next opportunity.
We really are all connected somehow.
The pandemic made that even more obvious.
We learned very quickly what happens when people cannot gather. We missed birthdays, celebrations,
family, friends, community events, and even those simple everyday conversations we did not think twice
about before.
Human beings need each other.
Yes, sometimes at the end of the day I also need everyone to leave me alone for five minutes.
But really, we all want the same basic things.
We want to feel loved. We want to feel valued. We want to know we belong somewhere.
That is a big part of why I founded Tangent Together.
I live in Tangent, a small agricultural community in Oregon, and I could see an opportunity to create
something that would connect people and build pride in our town.
Seeing it in my head was one thing.
Getting everyone else on board was another.
Tangent Together definitely did not happen overnight. It took people believing in me.
Ask our treasurer how she got involved.
I called her.
I texted her.
I kept asking.
And eventually, I literally showed up at her house trying to convince her to be part of it.
“I know we can do this.”
That was basically my pitch.
Her response eventually became a running joke in our group:
damnyoutrina
It still gets used today.
When I really believe in something, I can be persistent.
Okay, very persistent.
Around that same time, I remember sitting on my lunch break and having what I call my napkin moment.
I started sketching a logo.
Tangent is known as the Grass Seed Capital of the World, so I kept playing with the “T,” trying to make it
look like rows of grass seed fields.
There I was, drawing on a napkin at lunch, thinking about an organization that barely existed yet.
But in my head, I could already see it.
Neighbors gathering. Kids making memories. Our agricultural heritage being celebrated. People feeling
connected to where they lived.
The best part was that eventually other people could see it too.
That idea grew into Tangent Together, community events, scholarships, and the revival of the Tangent
Harvest Festival.
The festival has grown far beyond anything I pictured while drawing on that napkin.
And when I see families gathering, kids making memories, farmers being celebrated, and the streets of our
little town full of people, there is something about it that takes me right back to that Thanksgiving in my
parents’ garage.
Different scale.
Same feeling.
People want places where they belong.
Tangent Together also taught me that having the vision is only part of it.
You need people.
People who believe in it with you. People willing to work beside you. People willing to tell you when an idea
needs work.
And people who still answer the phone even though they know you probably have another idea.
Community service became another big part of my life, and today I serve as President of the Tangent City
Council.
People look at everything I am involved in and ask me, “How the hell do you fit all of this in?”
The answer is actually pretty simple.
When you care about something, you find the time.
That does not mean I have discovered extra hours in the day. If someone figures that out, please let me
know.
It just means the things I spend my time on matter to me.
My community matters. Small businesses matter. Creating opportunities for people matters. Leaving
something better than I found it matters.
Then, in 2025, I hit one of the biggest crossroads of my life.
At the time, I was making more money than I had ever made, more than $100,000 a year.
On paper, it looked like success.
And I was miserable.
For someone who grew up watching her dad work double shifts just to make sure his kids had school
clothes, walking away from that kind of money was not an easy decision.
Some people did not understand it at all.
Why would you leave the most money you had ever made without another job lined up?
One friend thought I was having a midlife crisis.
Others thought you just did not walk away from a job like that without having every detail of your next
move figured out.
What they saw was the paycheck.
What they did not see was me crying.
They did not see what it felt like to go to work every day and feel belittled.
My husband did.
He has been my ride or die for 32 years.
He was my high school sweetheart. We have grown up together, raised a family, and built a life together.
He knew I was struggling.
And he begged me to quit.
Take the gamble.
Take a chance on yourself.
We will figure it out.
Sometimes the person who loves you knows what you need before you are ready to admit it yourself.
He was right.
So I quit.
For about nine months, I did something that is not easy for me.
I took a breath.
Instead of immediately chasing another title or another paycheck, I tried to figure out what I actually
wanted the next chapter to look like.
Not what looked impressive.
Not what made the most sense on paper.
Not what everyone else thought I should do.
What did I want?
I kept coming back to the things I had naturally done my whole life.
Creating. Organizing. Connecting people. Building experiences. Taking an idea and figuring out how to
make it real.
And that is when those two streets from my childhood came back into the story.
Main and Oak.
They ran parallel to each other, and I had grown up within a block of both.
That little area held so much of what shaped me.
The banana bikes. The streetlights. The huge backyard. My dad working double shifts. The garage packed
with relatives. The orange plastic turkeys.
The little girl who was happiest in the middle of the chaos, making sure everyone was having a good time.
Those streets became the name of my event-planning company.
Main & Oak.
In 2025, I took the gamble on myself and started Main & Oak Event Planner.
The name was not created by a branding agency.
It was home.
It was where so much of this started.
Then, because apparently one business and a bunch of community roles were not enough, life threw me
another curveball.
In 2026, I became the owner of Flowers N More in Albany.
Owning a flower shop was absolutely not part of some perfectly organized five-year plan.
At this point, I am pretty sure perfectly organized five-year plans are just not my thing.
Flowers N More has taught me another lesson too, especially for someone who loves to plan.
You cannot completely plan a flower shop.
Event planning is built around timelines. You know the date. You know the schedule. You know what is
supposed to happen and when.
Flowers have their own rhythm.
One Monday you can have 14 orders.
Tuesday you might have two.
Then the phone rings, and suddenly your entire day changes.
You cannot perfectly predict how many orders are coming or exactly how much inventory you are going to
need.
And, as everyone knows, flowers die.
You get a small window to take something beautiful, design it, and get it into someone’s hands while it is
still at its best.
For someone who loves a plan, that has taken some adjusting.
Some days you make the plan.
Some days the flowers make the plan for you.
And I love it.
I really do.
Maybe because even with all the unpredictability, it still comes back to people.
One phone call may be from someone celebrating the happiest moment of their life.
The next may come from someone experiencing one of their hardest.
Flowers say congratulations. I love you. I am sorry. I am thinking about you. I am proud of you.
Sometimes they say what people cannot quite find the words to say themselves.
I love being a small part of those moments.
When I look at my life today, it probably looks like a bunch of unrelated things: an event-planning business,
a flower shop, Tangent Together, the Harvest Festival, and City Council.
But to me, it all makes sense.
It is people.
It is connection.
It is creating something that makes someone feel welcomed, valued, or cared about.
And that is really why I am telling this story.
Not because I have it all figured out. I do not.
And definitely not because I think everyone should quit their job, start a business, found a nonprofit, and
join City Council. That sounds exhausting even to me.
I am telling it because maybe someone reading this has an idea they cannot stop thinking about, or maybe
they are sitting in a place that looks great on paper but does not feel right anymore.
I hope my story gives that person a little courage to try.
It is scary. It is hard work. And there are still plenty of days when I wonder what the hell I am doing.
But one thing I know for sure is that you do not have to do it alone.
Use your community.
Ask for help. Share the idea. Support other people, and let them support you. You would be amazed what
can happen when a few people care enough to show up for one another.
Community is not just the place where you live.
It is something you get to be part of.
It is yours.
And I think that is one of the most beautiful things there is.
I still like a plan. I still like seeing the vision.
I have just learned to leave a little room for the unexpected.
Some of the best things in my life came from doing exactly that.
So yes, to borrow from Rod:
I like to party.
But it turns out the best part has always been the people who show up.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Not enough hours sin the day,
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about Flowers N More?
For more than 35 years, Flowers N More has been part of the Albany community, helping families celebrate, comfort, and connect through flowers.
From birthdays and anniversaries to weddings, new babies, graduations, sympathy tributes, and life’s everyday moments, we’re honored to be your hometown florist.
You’ll find us in our bright green shop right here in Albany, where you can stop in, call us, or order online.
Every arrangement is designed with care by our talented floral team using the freshest flowers available, and whenever the season allows, we love supporting local flower growers.
We’re proud to serve Albany, North Albany, Millersburg, Tangent, Lebanon, Jefferson, Corvallis, Philomath, Scio, and surrounding communities with reliable same-day delivery.
As a locally owned flower shop, we know that every order represents someone important, and we treat it that way.
At Flowers N More, we believe flowers do more than mark an occasion—they bring comfort, celebrate achievements, strengthen relationships, and remind people they’re loved.
Whether you’re sending a simple bouquet “just because” or planning flowers for one of life’s biggest events, we’re here to help make it meaningful.
Thank you for supporting a local, women-owned business.
We look forward to welcoming you into our shop and creating something beautiful—from our hands to your heart.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://flowersnmoreor.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/flowers_n_more_/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/flowers.n.more.2025
