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4A | JANUARY 14, 2021 | COTTAGE GROVE SENTINEL Cottage Grove Sentinel 116 N. Sixth St. Cottage Grove, Ore. 97424 NED HICKSON , MANAGING EDITOR | Opinion 541-902-3520 | NHICKSON @ CGSENTINEL . COM The First Amendment C ongress shall make no law respect- ing an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Govern- ment for a redress of grievances. “I never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, in philosophy, as cause for withdrawing from a friend.” —Thomas Jefferson (1800) USPS#133880 Th e message of Rufus Valentine Valentine, that’s exactly what happened. When my shift ended, it was near dusk. Along the sidewalks, automat- ed lamps had started humming to life. As I approached the parking tower, I noticed flashes of red and blue spilling Ned Hickson from the shadows of the underground level where I was parked. The closer situated closest to the mall item, as if I wouldn’t know I got, the more patrol cars I saw. entrance, we got the brunt it otherwise. At the edge of the drive, “Coming right up,” I of unhappy mall dwellers. yellow crime scene tape said, and took the menu. “Hey, there’s some guy had been strung. Taking shooting people with rub- As I turned to ring in his ber arrows out there,” one order, I saw him reach for a spot among a crowd of onlookers, I saw a white of them said, brandishing his quiver. sheet — and the callused “Hey,” I said, one hand the arrow in question and hand of Rufus Valentine on his drawing arm. rubbing his cheek. protruding from beneath “Here’s the deal. No With security nowhere it. Next to him, his wings matchmaking until after to be found, I decided to lay in a crumpled pile. lunch.” settle the matter myself I later learned that He studied me for a and strode out the door Rufus Valentine — born moment, then set his — and was immediately Rufus Jones in 1936 — bow on the counter. “I’m tagged. had left the mall that day no matchmaker. I’m just “Got you! Spread the love, brother,” Rufus said, tryin’ to spread the love — and taken his message to the parking garage. It was one brother, one sister, at as if he’d tossed me a box there that he encountered a time.” of chocolates instead of “That’s a nice sentiment; a street gang and attempt- nailing me with a rubber ed to “spread the love.” just don’t do it in here, arrow. He met the faces of prej- OK?” I said and released “Excuse me, but you’ll udice and hatred instead. his arm. have to stop with the With the approach of I think everyone has arrows. My customers are said things that they wish Martin Luther King Day, complaining,” I said. he always comes to mind. In that same instant, he they hadn’t. In the top And, also, no small 10 of my own regrettable plugged a passerby who measure of guilt. Had I left turned and gave me a dirty phrases, that one ranks him alone to do his work, look, spouting something right up there. First, or brought him lunch, because of my tactics about restaurant promo- things might have turned to control him. Second, tions getting out of hand. out differently. because he called me on A sudden ebb in the Even though he’s no shopping current allowed it. And third, because I wouldn’t get the chance to longer here to sling his me to grab his attention. arrows, I hope we can take it back. “Hey, it’s almost noon. take his message to heart With the smell of par- How about lunch on me?” — and spread the love: mesan and cream sauce “What’cha got?” one brother, one sister at “Come in and find out,” in the air, this obviously a time. I said, ushering him inside hungry man stood from the counter, grabbed his and up to the counter in bow and quiver, and left hopes of containing him Note: I originally wrote the counter. through the lunch rush. this editorial in 1998 “People need love more Sitting there at one of the during my first year as a stools, his wings protrud- than I needed fettuccini journalist. It’s my way of ing from either side of the Alfredo,” he said, and ex- honoring Rufus Valen- ited the restaurant. When chair back, he drew more tine and carrying on his he kept going, I consid- than a few stares. message — a message that ered myself lucky. Handing him a soda, I He could become some- seems particularly import- noticed that his dark black ant on many levels at this hands were worn and cal- one else’s headache. moment. Unfortunately for Rufus lused. His fingernails had our hands. I’d dealt with worse things. The complaints started soon after we opened. Since our restaurant was As I’ve mentioned be- fore, I lived in the South for 10 years, with six of those years spent in the suburbs of Atlanta. In the early 1990s, I was a restau- rant chef operating in one of Georgia’s largest shop- ping malls — three stories of glass, sale banners and merchants spanning six football fields’ worth of mall space. As you can imagine, I’ve dealt with as many personalities as there are seats in a 280-capacity dining room. The fact that Rufus Valentine dug such a deep groove in my mem- ory should tell you a little something about the man’s character. The first time I saw Ru- fus Valentine was during the Atlanta Braves’ heyday in February of 1992, when all of Atlanta was antici- pating the spring — and a run at the World Series. Essentially, you could be completely naked; but as long as you had a Braves cap on you were consid- ered properly attired by most Atlantans. So, when Rufus ap- peared in his red tights, heart-shaped wings, and Braves cap at the west entrance of the Lenox Square mall, I and most others assumed he was there to express his love for Atlanta’s baseball team — at least until I saw the bow and arrows. But even then, I could see that he was harmless. The arrows in his quiver were tipped with foam rubber —red, of course — and in the shape of hearts. Considering the date, I made the connection and realized we had a Braves-loving Cupid on dried to the point of split- ting. He gave me an appre- ciative nod and sipped, then blurted “fettuccini Alfredo.” He laid the menu down and pointed to the From the Editor’s Desk The staff of Bohemia Elementa- ry School would like to say a very heartfelt thank you to the many people who donated to help bring Christmas joy to many children in our community. The generous donations received from individuals and businesses helped bring joy to more than 145 children. It is without a doubt that we say we could have not achieved this without the support from many of Letters to the Editor Policy The Sentinel welcomes letters to the editor as part of a community discussion of issues on the local, state and national level. Emailed letters are preferred. Handwritten or typed letters must be signed. All letters need to include full name, address and phone number; only name and city will be printed. Letters should be limited to about 300 words. Letters are subject to editing for length, grammar and clarity. 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