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About Illinois Valley news. (Cave City, Oregon) 1937-current | View Entire Issue (Oct. 23, 2002)
Page 2 Some people might have noticed the San Diego Ave. street sign in my office. It’s a memento of my youthful out- law days, as well as a constant reminder of my affection for the city in which I was born and raised. But about that sign. What happened was that my aunties in El Paso, Texas were unaware that the kid across the street was a juvenile delinquent. He was nice enough to take me under his protection, and we had some fun playing kid games with plastic soldiers. He was a few years older than I, and seemed to enjoy war games, which included the use of 3-inch firecrackers, broom handles and trash can lids with handles. However, this summer buddy of mine budded into a gang guy. So during one of our visits to the hometown of my mother and father, he had managed to get use of a car, a Frasier, believe it or not. It had a wicked backfire, and an odd black paint job. My friend (we’ll call him Lance) in- vited me out one night in Black Beauty. I was rather excited, being all of 13, and knowing that I’d be in the company of kids at least 17 or 18. It was (“Titanic” notwithstanding) a night to remember. We first went to somebody’s house, where about eight boys and girls were waiting. I figured out that they were all members of the East El Paso Gang, but not right away, be- ing rather a dense boy. At first, at the house where no adults were present, there was only loud music and some dancing. A bit later, alcoholic beverages appeared; and none were offered me. Not only because of my age, but because Lance was watching out for me, as he had respect for my aunties. That was fine with me. I was still in the Kool-Aid, and crème soda float stage. Eventually we all piled into the Frasier and ended up at one of the many drive-in theaters that then existed. There was a lot of “making out,” which I was intrigued to watch, especially because they were all smoking (cigarettes I think). Some of them, because of hot weather, climbed on the roof of the car to watch the movie. At least, I think there was a movie. I was so busy watching the smoking and neck- ing that the screen could have been blank for all I know. Finally everyone tired of the drive-in, and we bounced off into the night, ending up on a portion of the U.S. Army’s Fort Bliss, where we managed to get into a minor disagree- ment with some military policemen. I have no idea why we were there, but the MPs made it extremely clear that we needed to get off base. Or else. We left. By now it was close to midnight, and we roared off to a certain neighborhood, where apparently a meeting had been arranged between my “friends” and members of another “friends” group. There seemed to be some problem about a blond girl going out with the wrong guy, and the situation was pretty tense for a bit. If you can imagine 15 to 20 young people wandering around with a certain mentality, then you know what I was experiencing. If you can’t imagine it, I’m really glad. Anyway, somebody announced that the El Paso cops had been called, and everyone left, tires squealing all the way. Meanwhile, I was becoming concerned about the late- ness (earlyness?) of the hour, linking this to my Grandma Vicky’s heart condition, and the frayed nerves of my aunts. But the night was young, according to Lance. Next thing I knew, we were in yet another neighborhood, and this is where I acquired the San Diego Ave. street sign. Actually, I only watched the process of how they did it, and it seemed that they had a lot of experience. Lance shipped the sign to my home in National City, Calif., in San Diego County. We knew it wouldn’t fit in my suitcase, and we sure didn’t want my mom, grandma or aunties to see the darn thing. At long last, somewhere around 2 a.m., the Frasier conked out. We sat on a street corner somewhere near Downtown El Paso, waiting for a ride. We finally got one from a strange man in a Studebaker pickup truck. I was ex- tremely glad (for the ride), because Lance had started talk- ing about going under one of the many railroad underpasses and grabbing a freight train. I don’t think I would have done it, but just the thought scared me. When I finally reached my grandma’s home, the place was in a minor uproar, because Little Robert was out way too late. I got bawled out but good, and vowed to never go out with Lance again. And I didn’t. But I still have the sign. Tuesday - Saturday 3:30 to 8:30 p.m. 592-3228 355 Caves Hwy. Closed Sunday & Monday Illinois Valley News, Cave Junction, OR Wednesday, October 23, 2002 (Editor’s Note: Views and commentary expressed in letters to the editor are strictly those of the letter- writers. * * * We no longer will accept single-spaced hand- written letters. Typed, double-spaced letters are acceptable for considera- tion. Hand-written letters that are double-spaced and highly legible also can be considered for publication.) Loves books From Pam Cooper Cave Junction Hello, my name is Pam Cooper, and I’m addicted to books. I’ve been an avid book reader my whole life. It’s been a consuming habit. I remem- ber being read to as a child, which is where this addiction probably got started. When I was a young girl I was some- times unable to do anything at all except read, moving from carpeted floor to couch, to my room, the kitchen, the outside lawn swing, or in our tree- house, book in hand. I read in cars and on the school bus, late at night and early in the morning. In-between sleeping, chores, church, school, and playing with siblings and friends on our acreage, I would read whole series of books, look up all sorts of things in encyclopedias, and eventually read as many as five books a week. I loved books. When I grew up, I contin- ued to read voraciously, once staying up all night to read “The Thornbirds,” which I finished in the morning and then had to get my children and myself ready for day-care and a full work day. Every long and sleepless hour of that day was worth every word of that book. In my late 30s, I finally broke my fiction habit and became interested in non- fiction., opening up more worlds, more knowledge, more adventure, bigger addic- tion. Now, I go on rampages and check out 10 or 12 at a time from the library. I buy them at yard sales, estate sales, over the Internet and sometimes book stores. I read, trade, and give them away, and I share good ones that bring hope and en- couragement during sorrow or soul searching. As a result, I seem to be a pretty good speller, have a good grip on the spoken and written word, and know a lot more about the world, adven- tures, imagination, and people than I would have if I didn’t read. And I have lots of books. They are taking over my of- fice, hide in and under the nightstand, get piled on the coffee table, on top of my desk, most flat surfaces in the house, boxes in the attic, and in three separate bookshelves. I am definitely addicted to books. It’s a lifelong habit I never want to break. Please vote “yes” for the library levy. ‘Cracking the Code’ From Peter Sparacino Merlin The recent dramatic hun- ger strike of a retired police sergeant in our new JoCo Adult Jail was an eye-opener for me. Raymond Karczewski (Big Ray), of Cave Junction bought a book, “Cracking the Code,” volume 3, for $125. He believed its content that claimed that the UCC (Uniform Commercial Code) was a way to reclaim lost con- stitutional rights that had been deceptively stolen from us. Whether the book is true or not is immaterial. What is material is that Big Ray be- lieved that it is true. Because he swore an oath to defend the U.S. Constitution against for- eign and domestic enemies when he became a police offi- cer years ago, he believes that the oath is still in effect. Thus, as an honorable man, he had to act upon his belief at the first opportunity. That opportunity came when a JoCo deputy sheriff stopped him because of failure to dim his headlights. Acting from chapter and verse in “Cracking the Code,” the situation quickly escalated to arrest; what I believe is sei- zure of private property; and incarceration. That is where the book was of no further practical use. So Big Ray began a 33- day hunger strike to protest what he believed was unlaw- ful process. He thought that the com- munity, once awakened to his plight, would realize that it was its plight too. He was wrong. No one else showed up at his hearings except for those few friends, police, and two reporters. Animal crematorium From Jim Enimal Cave Junction Do people in Cave Junc- tion know that a crematorium for animals is being installed within city limits? I should say, almost completely in- stalled. I don’t live right next to it, but common sense is that the output will affect the whole city. Has there been public notice, public input, permits, or EP studies? According to the Toxics Action Center on the Internet, medical waste incinerators are the number-two source of di- oxin, and the number-four source of mercury. Dioxin is a know human carcinogen, and mercury a potent neurotoxin. It is hard for me to believe that no special permit or pub- lic input or public notice is required for such a unit, espe- cially when there is residential housing within 20 to 30 feet of the crematorium. Can you imagine having animal bodies burned next to your bedroom window? Is there a fishy smell? SISKIYOU COMMUNITY HEALTH CENTER 319 Caves Hwy. 592-4111 THURSDAY, OCT. 24 Grab-n-go-salad, cheeseburger and fries, sub sandwich and potato chips, pepperoni pizza, chicken pattie sandwich, FRIDAY, OCT. 25 Grab-n-go salad, cheeseburger and fries, sub sandwich and potato chips, pepperoni pizza, burrito supreme, or cheese sandwich and potato chips MONDAY, OCT. 28 Grab-n-go-salad, cheeseburger and fries, sub sandwich and potato chips, pepperoni pizza, nachos or garden burger TUESDAY, OCT. 29 Grab-n-go-salad, cheese- burger and fries, sub sandwich and potato chips, pepperoni pizza, chicken strips WEDNESDAY, OCT. 30 Grab-n-go-salad, cheeseburger and fries, sub sandwich and potato chips, pepperoni pizza or hot dogs and French fries Gift horse From Angell Pittman Cave Junction With regard to “caring and concerned” valley resi- dents, during the past few months; my family and I have spent countless hours and dol- lars trying to care for a horse that doesn’t belong to us and is on my land. A horse that we grew to love. For all the love, attention and money put out, my family received in return: Phone calls from others causing Animal Control to contact us; people throwing things over our fence; strangers approaching me at my place of employ- ment; police cars at my house; my home being invaded; and pictures taken without my per- mission. My family and I used to be friendly and neighborly, (Continued on page 3) IVHS School Menu - Sponsored by (Editor’s Note: The cre- matorium at Crossroads Animal Hospital is allowed under city of Cave Junction commercial zoning, and un- derwent an approval and certification process through Oregon Dept. of Environ- mental Quality. The animal crematorium was installed more than a week ago, and, said Crossroads’ trained personnel, is odorless and smokeless, and doesn’t gen- erate excess heat.) (R)