VIEWPOINTS
Saturday, November 13, 2021
J.D.
SMITH
A5
Remembering the ‘Unknown’
FROM THE HEADWATERS
OF DRY CREEK
No
problema I
T
hirty-one years ago, Caty and
I honeymooned in Mexico. We
lived in the high country of
central Idaho, 6 miles from town on a
hill overlooking the Gold Fork of the
Payette River. It was January and we
were butt deep in snow, so we scraped
the ice from our car, skidded a hundred
miles to Boise, then fl ew to Los Ange-
les International where we boarded a
small Aero Mexico jet headed to San
Jose del Cabo, Baja California. During
that voyage I learned a couple of ways
to manage stress the Latin way.
It was raining hard in LA and the
fl ight was delayed on the tarmac. The
aircraft was not quite a fl ying culvert,
but it was smaller than average, with
two seats on each side of the aisle. We
were hunkered in the back third of the
plane. Across the aisle and forward were
two middle-aged women who fi dgeted
and discussed rather loudly how much
they hated to fl y. That persisted for
10 minutes until the one on the aisle
jumped up, pointed the roof of the plane
and yelled “Oh my God!” There was a
leak somewhere in the skin of the plane
and a slow drip had developed that was
landing on the arm of her seat.
The solo fl ight attendant was a young
woman in a rather restrictive uniform
wearing higher heels than I would
have chosen for her occupation. She
responded to the commotion, looked
over the situation, smiled and said “Una
momenta, por favor,” then wove her way
forward to her station behind the pilots.
The nervous pair began to fret about
not meeting their tour guides in San
Jose because of having to wait while the
mechanics fi xed the airplane.
They needn’t have worried. A couple
of minutes later the fl ight attendant
came back down the aisle carrying a
box of Kleenex with the top torn off .
She carefully balanced it on the seat
arm, directly under the leak, smiled
again and said “No problema,” then
went about her business.
Despite the leak, the airplane fl ew
without falling apart. We rented a Volk-
swagen in San Jose then headed north,
up the coast of the Sea of Cortez, bounc-
ing over dirt roads and across arroyos,
to Bahia los Frailes, Bay of the Friars,
where we pitched a tent on the beach.
South of us half a mile were some
snazzy white stucco homes that prob-
ably were seasonal refuges for other
English speakers, but we were the only
gringos in the bay.
Our fellow beach mates were 10
fi shermen who hopped into three open
boats early each morning, spent half
an hour netting bait from the bay, then
disappeared over the eastern horizon
until almost dark when they would ride
the high tide, run the boats way up on
the sand, then unload their day’s catch
into a refrigerated van.
Caty spent the days in the clear warm
sea marveling at the water critters. I
hunkered in the shade and digested
Mexican comic books, which are soft
pornographic novels. Shreds of my
collegiate studies in Greek, Latin,
German and Spanish were still fl oating
around between my ears so I could deci-
pher most of the words.
Between the fi sherfolks’ camp and
our tent was a palm-thatched, open-
air structure where Raul and Dominga
operated a bar and cafe. It was equipped
with a small propane refrigerator
stocked with beer and pop, a back shelf
of tequila and bourbon and a kitchen
stove. Dominga cooked while Raul
schmoozed. The food was wonder-
ful, especially the machaca made from
shark meat dried over the barbwire
fence between our camp and the rich
folks’ winter homes.
We were there only a few days. One
mid-afternoon I wandered up to the
cafe for another cane sugar Pepsi in a
battle weary bottle and noticed the left
front tire of Raul’s pickup was totally
fl at. I asked if he had a jack to use on the
fl at and he shook his head. I told him
there probably was some sort of lifting
mechanism in our rented VW and he
was more than welcome to borrow it. He
smiled and said, “Gracias, but we do not
need a jack.”
I needn’t have worried. A half an
hour later I watched Carlos, their teen-
age son, as he rolled a large rock from
the arroyo and placed it under the front
axle of the truck. He loosened the lug
nuts, used a shovel to dig around and
under the fl at tire, removed the lug
nuts, pulled off the old wheel and tire,
replaced it with the spare and lug nuts,
backfi lled and tamped the excavation
around the spare, tightened the lug nuts,
then hopped in the truck and backed off
the rock. No problema.
———
J.D. Smith is an accomplished writer
and jack-of-all-trades. He lives in Athena.
East Oregonian
BRIGIT
FARLEY
PAST AND PROLOGUE
f you have been to the nation’s capital,
you probably visited Arlington Ceme-
tery to watch the changing of the guard
at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. That
soldier was buried 100 years ago, Nov. 11,
1921. The story of his journey home from
France remains powerful and moving all
these years later.
The idea of burying an unidentifi ed
soldier in a place of honor came from Great
Britain and France. Two-thirds of the casu-
alties of World War I had no known grave,
owing to the lethality of 20th century
combat. Some were blown to bits by artil-
lery, others buried alive, still others oblit-
erated when shells destroyed temporary
cemeteries. Then there were those who were
found but could not be identifi ed. A British
chaplain, David Railton, worried about the
families who had no body to bury. French
politicians expressed similar concern.
In the months after the war, plans for
the commemoration of an unknown soldier
began to come together. On Nov. 11, 1920,
Great Britain buried its Unknown Warrior
in London’s Westminster Abbey, while his
French counterpart was interred beneath
the Arch of Triumph in Paris. Now every
family of a missing soldier could come to
these sites and grieve, knowing the man
entombed there could be their son, husband,
father or brother.
It seemed unlikely at fi rst that the U.S.
would honor an unknown, as top military
leaders believed they would account for
every missing American. But U.S. Rep
Hamilton Fish III of New York, who had
led the African-American “Harlem Hell-
fi ghters” in combat for nearly a year, knew
better. In December 1920, Fish introduced
legislation calling for the burial of an Amer-
ican unknown soldier.
By March 1921, Congress authorized this
initiative and obtained President Woodrow
Wilson’s signature. The ceremony would
take place in Arlington Cemetery on Armi-
stice Day, the third anniversary of the end of
World War I, Nov. 11, 1921.
Now the selection of the unknown got
underway. In cemeteries near the four key
American battlefi elds in France, military
personnel exhumed unidentifi ed American
casualties. After a thorough search for any
identifi cation, four bodies — one from each
cemetery — were transported to the city
hall in nearby Chalons-sur-Marne on Oct.
23. There a decorated Army veteran, Sgt.
Edward Younger, would select the unknown
to be honored. As he walked around the four
coffi ns, Younger remembered feeling numb,
unable to choose.
“Then something drew me to the coffi n
second on my right,” he wrote later. “I
couldn’t take another step. It seemed as if
God had raised my hand and guided me.”
Younger placed on that coffi n a spray
of white roses grown by a local city coun-
cil member. Afterward, the unknown was
placed aboard a train bound for the port city
of Le Havre, where the U.S.S. Olympia was
waiting to transport him home.
A routine voyage turned perilous when
remnants of a Florida hurricane hit the
Olympia in the north Atlantic. The ship
nearly capsized. Finally, the crew was able
to right it for a timely arrival at the Wash-
ington, D.C., Navy Yard on Nov. 9. An
honor guard escorted the coffi n to the U.S.
Capitol, where the unknown would lie in
state in the Rotunda. More than 90,000 visi-
tors came to pay their respects.
On Nov. 11, Armistice Day, a horse-
drawn caisson bore the unknown from the
Capitol, through the streets of Washington,
across the Potomac to Arlington. A distin-
guished group of mourners accompanied
him, including President Warren Harding,
former President Woodrow Wilson, Gen.
John J. Pershing, Medal of Honor winners
and Gold Star mothers. When the proces-
sion reached Arlington’s new Memorial
Amphitheater, just outside the burial site,
the bells of all Washington’s churches rang
out.
A two-minute silence followed, after
which President Harding addressed the
invited guests. The president expressed the
hope that every mother of a missing Ameri-
can soldier might take comfort in the possi-
bility that “the nation bows in grief over the
body of one she bore to live and die … for
the Republic.”
The president then awarded the
Unknown the Medal of Honor, followed by
foreign military leaders with their nations’
highest honors. Crow Indian Chief Plenty
Coups rendered a fi nal salute, presenting his
war bonnet and coup stick at the gravesite.
After the ceremony, the coffi n was lowered
into the crypt, which contained soil from
France, the country in whose defense the
Unknown had given his life.
A hundred years later, the unknown
lies in a stately white tomb high on the hill
at Arlington. Two comrades, unidentifi ed
servicemen from World War II and Korea,
have joined him. He has a dedicated, 24/7
honor guard comprised of elite soldiers
from the Army’s Third Infantry, the “Old
Guard.”
Yet it is the simplicity of the tomb’s
inscription that impresses, a century on:
“Here rests in honored glory an American
soldier known but to God.”
———
Brigit Farley is a Washington State
University professor, student of history,
adventurer and Irish heritage girl living in
Pendleton.
Measure 110 has us on the right path
AMY
ASHTON-WILLIAMS
OTHER VIEWS
O
regonians voted Measure 110 into
law exactly one year ago this month.
Here’s how it’s already making a
diff erence in Eastern Oregon and beyond.
Oregonians voted Measure 110 into law,
passing it by a 17-point margin and sending
the strong message that we want drug use
treated as a health issue — not a crime. The
measure passed in communities both large
and small, urban and rural, progressive and
conservative. The law decriminalized all
drugs, while off ering up a compassionate,
science-based approach to treating drug use.
Why did Oregonians across the political
spectrum embrace this bold new approach?
I believe it’s because we have all person-
ally experienced the heartbreak of Oregon’s
addiction crisis, either ourselves or through
the experience of someone we love. Too
many of us know what it’s like to lose some-
one to addiction.
For more than 50 years, the U.S. has
criminalized people for using drugs, yet the
rate of people dying from drug overdoses
continues to increase at heartbreaking levels.
In our small, close knit community, we see
the very real impacts of this nationwide
crisis on our friends, neighbors, co-workers
and fellow community members. Measure
110 alone cannot fi x this nationwide crisis
but it’s an important tool for how we stop
treating addiction as a moral failing deserv-
ing of punishment, and start treating it as a
health issue deserving of medical care.
The fi rst round of Measure 110 grants
were distributed a few months ago, imme-
diately instilling Oregon’s behavioral health
system with desperately needed funds to
increase access to overdose prevention
and addiction recovery services across
the state. The Oregon Washington Health
Network was one of 70 organizations
funded. Measure 110 funds have allowed
us to expand in areas where our commu-
nity desperately needs support, services
and, perhaps most of all — hope. We’ve
opened three new drop-in peer centers: one
in Pendleton, one in Hermiston and one
in Milton-Freewater. These centers will
off er low-barrier access to addiction recov-
ery services for people struggling with
substance use. Connecting those struggling
with addiction with peers who have “lived
experience” (typically defi ned as a person
who has a personal history with recovery
and addiction) is essential to many a person’s
recovery journey. Peers make it easier to
open up and share, to relate to others, and
they can even help them chart a path to
recovery.
Our drop-in centers also serve family
members. The loved ones of people in crisis
often don’t know where to turn for support
or what they should do to help them. Peers
can help family members understand their
role in their loved one’s recovery journey.
Our story is not unique. In just the fi rst
year of this law being approved by Oregon
voters, $30 million in grants and extended
contacts have already been distributed to
providers across the state. Overdose preven-
tion and addiction recovery services have
been funded in 26 counties. 33 service
providers have been able to expand services
for the indigent and uninsured. 52 organi-
zations hired peer support specialists. 32
service providers added more recovery,
supportive and transitional housing services.
30 organizations have increased overdose
prevention services. That’s impressive when
you consider that this new program is barely
off the ground.
For more than 50 years our country has
tried and failed to criminalize its way out
of a national addiction and overdose crisis.
Oregon communities have been denied
proper access to addiction recovery services
for so long that it’s going to take some time
before we feel the full positive impacts of
this new law. We’ve got a lot of people who
have, for far too long, fallen through the
cracks. We’re working hard to meet the
tremendous need, ensuring there is no wrong
door when it comes to accessing critical care.
As a provider I can tell you that I now
have hope for Oregon’s ability to meet this
crisis head on. So, happy one year anniver-
sary, Measure 110. We’ve got a long way to
go but now, fi nally, we’re on the right path.
———
Amy Ashton-Williams, licensed clinical
social worker, is the executive director of the
Oregon Washington Health Network, which
operates out of Pendleton and serves commu-
nities in Umatilla, Union and Morrow Coun-
ties. OWhN also serves Walla Walla County
in Washington State.
Oregonians deserve reproductive freedom
AN
DO
OTHER VIEWS
L
ast month, Oregonians in every
corner of the state — from Redmond
to Pendleton to McMinnville to
Roseburg — took part in a historic moment
to march, rally, caravan and demonstrate
support for abortion justice. We cannot be
complacent and hope the courts will protect
us while access to safe, legal abortion hangs
on by a thread.
2021 has already been the worst on
record for abortion restrictions — which
disproportionately harm rural people,
people of color and people with low
incomes. State legislatures have introduced
nearly 600 restrictions this year alone,
including 11 here in Oregon.
For the past two months, we’ve seen the
catastrophic impact of a heinous Texas law
that bans abortion at six weeks — before
most people even know they’re pregnant —
while empowering and incentivizing vigi-
lante bounty hunters to surveil and harass
people. Earlier this month, patients and
providers fi nally had their day in court, and
we are hopeful the Supreme Court will step
in and block politicians from continuing to
wreak havoc.
Then on Dec. 1, the court will hear oral
arguments in a pivotal case — a challenge
to Mississippi’s cruel 15-week abortion ban
— which could hollow out Roe v. Wade and
upend 50 years of precedent. If states are
allowed to ban all or some abortions, more
than 36 million people who can get pregnant
in 26 states may have to travel extraordinary
distances to get to an abortion provider.
“Destination states” such as Oregon,
where abortion rights are safeguarded,
would suddenly have the nearest clinics
for thousands of patients. The Guttmacher
Institute recently reported that if a 15-week
ban went into eff ect, Oregon would see a
234% increase in women of reproductive
age who may be forced to drive here for
care, including up to 230,000 Idahoans and
670 Nevadans.
Another study shows that rural Orego-
nians in Baker and Malheur counties would
see up to a 35% decrease in abortion access
because of the longer travel distance to the
nearest provider in Bend.
At this critical time, it’s shameful the
Deschutes County Commission voted to
withhold abortion coverage for county
employees, against the Employee Benefi ts
Advisory Committee’s recommendation.
The county’s health plans are regulated by
federal law, so they are not subject to state
mandates for health care coverage. Cost is
a huge barrier to accessing abortion, and
these workers will now have subpar cover-
age that does not meet standards the state
has set for the Oregon Health Plan and
private commercial insurers.
Commissioners Tony DeBone and
Patti Adair are out of touch with their own
constituents: In 2018, Deschutes County
voters rejected Ballot Measure 106, send-
ing a clear message that everyone should be
able to decide whether and when to become
a parent, regardless of how they’re insured.
Planned Parenthood Advocates of Oregon
thanks Commissioner Phil Chang for voting
to follow state standards.
While Roe has been rendered eff ec-
tively meaningless in Texas, we know that
Roe always has been the fl oor and not the
ceiling. In many places across the country,
abortion is a right in name only.
That’s why no matter what happens in
the courts or in other state legislatures, it’s
essential the Senate passes the Women’s
Health Protection Act, which would estab-
lish a statutory right to provide and receive
abortion care. Unfortunately, Rep. Bentz,
R-Oregon, turned his back on the health and
rights of his constituents by opposing the
bill.
Access to abortion is supported by a
majority of Oregonians, and given the ongo-
ing threats, it’s unconscionable that Bentz,
DeBone and Adair would put politics ahead
of the needs of the people.
We need lawmakers at all levels of
government to ensure all people can make
their own health care decisions without
political interference. We have no more time
to waste.
———
An Do is the executive director of Planned
Parenthood Advocates of Oregon.