letters
TO THE EDITOR
ABOUT MARK HARRIS
BROUGHT TO LIFE
As a faculty member of LCC since
1995, I would like to say a few words about
a highly respected colleague, Mark Harris
(see letters, 3/3).
During my early years, I taught health
in Lane’s High School program, serving
an at-risk teen population. I was fortu-
nate to have Mark as a guest presenter on
substance abuse prevention, which always
had a deep impact on all of us. Follow-
ing his presentations, many students had
openly expressed a need for support and
counseling regarding drug and alcohol
issues. I remember one in particular who
could not wait another day and asked me
to walk him to Mark’s offi ce. Mark has an
extraordinary ability to be powerful, com-
passionate and patient.
Over the years, I have served on a
few committees and collegewide activi-
ties with Mark and have consulted him at
times for my continuing professional de-
velopment. He is very honest, generous,
kind and creative. At times when I have
found myself to be less skillful or less
experienced in certain matters, Mark has
always communicated his expertise and
knowledge in the most humble and diplo-
matic manner.
Most importantly, on issues of racism,
freedom and separateness, I have benefi ted
greatly from Mark’s contributions in
Eugene Weekly and The Community
College Moment. His words have turned
my mind and heart in many directions and
I know many other people who strongly
agree with me. I look forward to reading
many more articles by Mark Harris.
Amy Gaudia
Eugene
Last Saturday night a woman who is
dead shared with me her love for her par-
ents, her intense need that her non-violent
presence in a war zone would make some
impact and her growing anger at the pain
and devastation about which she could
do nothing. The woman who is dead was
brought to vivid life by actor Nicole Tro-
baugh, who was Rachel Corrie in Lord
Leebrick Theater’s production of My
Name is Rachel Corrie (which continues
through March 12).
This play should be seen for Nicole
Trobaugh’s stunning performance; for Ra-
chel Corrie’s own words, used throughout
the play; and for the insight this evening of
theater gives us into why people risk their
lives, because they “can do no other.”
Dina Wills
Eugene
living out
BIKE PLAN LACKING
The Fern Ridge bike path was construct-
ed around 1970. The underpasses below
Chambers, Garfi eld, Acorn Park, W. 11th,
Bertelsen, and Danebo are helpful in provid-
ing safe, effi cient bike transportation to and
from West Eugene and downtown. Cross-
ings are still needed at Polk and City View.
After 40 years, it’s time for a few more!
These are dangerous crossings, where riders
must zigzag across busy streets to continue
on the bike trail. I suggest diagonal over-
passes at these two locations, spanning both
the creek and the roads.
At present, cars have the right-of-way
at these and other at-grade street cross-
ings (e.g., Bailey Hill and Oak Patch). The
streets are posted with yellow signs warn-
ing motorists of a pedestrian crossing, and
bicyclists are warned to yield to cars. I
suggest a different system of street post-
ing: Place yellow cones in the middle of
the streets at bike path crossings with
a sign that reads something like: “State
Law: Must stop for pedestrians and bi-
cycles.” (This is similar language to what
appears on cones in the San Francisco Bay
Area where the bike trail along the BART
tracks crosses city streets in the East Bay.)
The Fern Ridge path provides reason-
ably good transportation from west Eu-
gene east to Jefferson Street. After that,
bicyclists are essentially on their own.
Improved safety is need for bikes travers-
ing the downtown area. One way to pro-
BY SALLY SHEKLOW
Lights Out
Technology leads to grave robbing
M
y domestic partner isn’t cheating, but
she is, shall we say, involved. A tempting
opportunity arose and she took it.
She got an iPhone.
I’m jealous. It’s with her constantly, she can’t keep
her hands off of it, and she consults it for things
she used to ask of me — Where did we get that great
guacamole? When’s the fi rst night of Passover?
What’s a four-letter word for single?
The other day my car‘s brake lights wouldn’t turn
off. Wifey consulted her iPhone. In an instant she was
reading posts from people with the same problem.
A dime-sized blue stopper keeps the brake pedal
mechanism from pressing the brake light switch.
When that stopper falls out, the lights stay on. Quoth
the iPhone.
I searched around and whaddaya know, a blue
rubber tiddly-wink lay broken on the fl oormat. The
iPhone was right.
Replace this little gizmo and I’d be set. Wifey
took iPhone into the house, the two of them having
completed their contribution.
The woman at the dealership counter printed out
a schematic showing the part. She couldn’t get it
4 MARCH 10, 2011
vide safer passage for bikes is to separate
bikes from cars with a line of parked cars
approximately 8 to 12 feet from the curb,
with a bike lane along the curb where cars
currently park. If extra space is needed for
bikes, a street like 10th or 12th could be
made into a one-way street.
A north-south bike path, with overpass-
es or underpasses, is needed in the vicinity
of the streets named after Presidents (i.e.,
between Lincoln and Polk). Bicycles going
north or south in this area must cross 6th,
7th, and 11th avenues — streets with ex-
tremely heavy traffi c. There are stoplights
at Polk and Monroe, but the wait times at
EUGENE WEEKLY
until Tuesday. My car battery
would be dead by Tuesday.
“Try the wrecking yard,”
Partswoman suggested.
I drove to B&R Auto Wrecking
and parked, brake lights aglow. A
burly clerk looked at my schematic
and gave me a list of cars of my year, make, a n d
model. He also handed me a neon-green safety vest,
required out on the lot (Ooh la la!).
Rack after rack of palletted engines lined a gravel
path to the massive car cemetery, grave robbing
encouraged. I tromped through acres of mangled car
carcasses, already picked clean of steering wheels,
seats, dashboards, whatever was needed. Finally I
found my donor car.
I wedged past a crumpled fender and pulled
open the door. This wreck, like all the others, was
on risers, allowing easy access. Sure enough, up
behind the dash was a little blue stopper. Just like
iPhone said.
I pressed the brake pedal to open the gap, pulled
the part, and trotted back to the offi ce. I showed
Burlyman my fi nd.
“No charge,” he said, hanging my green vest back
on the hook (sigh).
I thanked him and returned to my car, its brake
lights still shining. To install the replacement part
I had to sit on the asphalt and arch backwards
over the threshold to reach into the magic spot.
I was on my back, half of me sticking out, while
I pressed the pedal, aimed my fl ashlight and
maneuvered the part into place. Burlyman and his
co-worker were probably enjoying the show on their
security cameras, but too bad. I scooched in further
and wrangled that rubber jobbie until at last . . .
YESSS!
I slithered out, straightened my back, and dusted
off my butt.
Behind my car a magnifi cent sight — brake lights
off. Cue Rocky theme, shoot fi sts into air, do end zone
dance.
I drove home, parked, and took one more look —
yep, lights off. I gave my customary call, “Hi honey,
I’m homo!”
“Any luck?” Wifey asked, iPhone in hand.
I grinned, just a tad smug.
Wifey embraced me and said she was impressed
and proud.
There’s no app for that.
Award-winning writer Sally Sheklow has been tackling tough problems in
Eugene since 1972.
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