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)