I still remember well putting on the new blue and gold uniforms for the first time. This was the year the Warriors changed from red and white to the present blue and gold. It was also great because for the first time since I started high school we had the same head coach for a second season.

Chuck DeAutremont was back for year two and he was joined by two new assistants, Tex Gatlin and Mike Whalen. Tex had been a teammate of Chuck’s at Southern Oregon and Mike had been a standout at Humboldt State.

This was a group that had our total respect. Wins on the playing field were something that were hard to come by during my first two football seasons. Final scores were not always as close as we would like. While we did not produce a lot of victories score-wise, we played everybody  close.

We went over to Cave Junction to meet their squad in what was a very interesting experience. They had a new field that instead of grass was covered in saw dust. It was a hot day and it was amazing how uncomfortable sawdust can be under your pads. We came away with the biggest win of my high school career. We won 40-0.

Mari’s Climb, a three-part series running Thursday through Saturday about a lo­cal wom­an who was par­­alyzed after contracting a food-borne illness, is notable in several re­gards.

Most im­portantly, it couldn’t have been done without the willingness of Mari Tardiff and her husband, Peter, to totally open up about the ordeal that has turned their lives upside down for the past 17 months. They granted Triplicate reporter Nick Grube incredible access into their minds, their hearts and their home.

As a result, Nick’s articles will go beyond recounting what transpired — even though that account is riveting and will be told in detail for the first time. You’ll also know what the Tardiff family was thinking and feeling before and after Mari got sick. This affords a deep understanding of the challenges they have wrestled with ever since the fateful day when Mari opened her refrigerator and found catastrophe.

Interwoven with the Tardiffs’ story will be a broader look at the issues raised by Mari’s illness.

At bigger newspapers, rep­orters would be able to focus all their efforts on a project such as this. That’s not possible at a paper our size; Nick has continued to cover city and county government and myriad other stories while working on this series. Occasionally colleagues have pinch-hit for him, but the fact remains that he has accomplished something noteworthy because of his dedication and his willingness to sweat.

He’s known for months that the Tardiffs deserve nothing less than that.

Dear K., it is nearly midnight, but I can’t sleep. I am wide-awake thinking about tomorrow being the day that I’ve been expecting to see you. I understand if you are late since I’m sure you’re quite content and comfortable where you’re at now.

In February your parents told me to prepare for your arrival October 26. As the date grew nearer, the more nervous energy I’ve had. In the past few weeks I’ve filled the freezer with soups I’ve made and bread I’ve baked to take up to Salem. I know you won’t have an appetite for these things, but I’m thinking more about the rest of the family and the visitors who will be coming to see you.

I’ve been contemplating what I should say to you when we finally meet. I know it doesn’t really matter much to you since you probably won’t remember our first meeting. But for me it’s important that I choose my words carefully and set the tone for our future relationship. I know I will tell you that you are beautiful and that I love you now and will always love you, more than you can imagine, no matter what.

In the years ahead, you can trust me to keep your secrets, share your joys and protect you. You can borrow my lipstick, try on my shoes and take the pearls out of my jewelry box and wrap them around your neck whenever you like! I promise to take lots of pictures of you and place them on the mantle, on the refrigerator, on my desk and email them to all my friends.

We’ve all known for years that ideally, domestic cats should stay indoors, both for their safety and that of songbirds and other small prey.

Like most of us, my actions usually take some time to catch up to my awareness. It’s not that we don’t know better, but we already have cats that are accustomed to spending at least daylight hours outdoors. Confining them is traumatic for all concerned.

Shadow spent his first few years living in the woods, until I trapped him and took him to Dr. Mark for the fateful surgery. His outrage was such that the clinic reeked a block away and staff were weepy and miserable. When hurt and frightened, a cat can put a skunk to shame.

I was grateful he didn’t do it in the car, and I returned him safely to his woods. It took over a year of coaxing before he let me touch him. Since old Phydeaux wouldn’t let him in the house and he wouldn’t challenge her, I fed him on the back porch, where we had heavy petting sessions.

When Phydeaux died, Shadow began coming in to eat, explore the house, and generally make it his own. The pet door remained open, and he came and went as he pleased. Gradually, he began to spend nights indoors.

Crescent City Police are looking for the “meanest thief in Del Norte County” following a complaint filed by a local man that his car had been stolen.

Emil Hartig of Crescent City reported that someone had stolen the family car, a 1958 model, as it was parked in front of Veteran’s Memorial Hall.

The car contained his 14-year-old Chihuahua dog and his wife’s crutches. The Hartigs have had the little 3-pound dog all these years. Due to its age, the dog has no teeth, needs special care, and can only be fed certain food.

If the car is not found, Hartig will have to buy his wife another set of crutches so she can get around. Both are retired senior citizens and are living on a modest pension.

Oldest veterans sought

When you watch a football game, every offensive play starts with the center snap. Ray played the center position for the Warrior junior varsity and varsity during his entire four year career. I know that as a football coach I always looked for someone I could trust to put in that key position. With Ray there I knew the play would always start right, whether it ended that way or not.

Ray only played baseball  for one year as it was not his favorite activity. The sport that he was really good at beside football was swimming. Ray swam in the local age group swim program from the time he was old enough to do so and was very successful.

After graduation Ray became involved with coaching in the local youth program. It was something he did for 10 years as he served as head coach in two different age groups.

After his experience with the youth program Ray joined Steve Luis, Del Norte’s junior varsity head coach as his offensive line coach. At two different times, when Steve was waging his battle with cancer, Ray served as interim head coach and did an excellent job. Ray is now serving as the varsity offensive line coach for the Warriors under Bob Hadfield.

Ray has worked for the Department of Corrections for several years and just recently took a position at Pelican Bay as a fire captain.

That was the case about 8 years ago when we were heading north. We pulled off the highway and drove under the Welcome to Bandon arch and parked next to a gift shop called The Brass Rose. The shop is gone now, but when it was open for business you could walk right through it to the public restrooms between the shop and a real estate office.

This particular time Rick wanted to stop and I decided to wait in the car. Rick zipped in and zipped out of the shop, and when he came out he was carrying a small book. “What’s that?” I asked. “I saw it and it looked interesting, so I bought it,” he said.

The most incredible part of this true story is that Rick actually shopped during his 5-minute excursion into this typical coastal gift shop filled with nautical knick-knacks and souvenirs. Rick is not a shopper. He won’t go into a store without a list and never deviates from his list. If we need bananas, for example, he’ll drive to one of the grocery stores in town and come home with bananas, just bananas, nothing else.

In last Tuesday’s column I had written that “summer is over.” It wasn’t an easy admission, since I’m a summer person by nature and we don’t get nearly enough of it. I sent the column in over the weekend, and so the pending storm was a complete surprise to me Tuesday morning, when the barometer plummeted and my ears began to pop. Summer over indeed!

I don’t have television, don’t listen to the radio and take my weather as it comes. I just try to have emergency supplies on hand. Other than The Daily Triplicate, my source of news is a well-balanced weekly news magazine. The Week keeps me informed so I can vote responsibly on other than local issues, without subjecting me to a daily deluge of hysteria and a sense of helplessness.

I’m one of the many fortunate residents of our area who suffered no storm damage whatsoever, if you don’t count the drips that developed into a waterfall that flowed from the top of a bedroom window. It was actually sort of pretty.

Laura and I headed out aimlessly for a walk late Saturday morning. Maybe a jog. We didn’t have a specific plan until we saw something special at sea.

There’s an unusual access at the north end of the Pebble Beach Drive bluff, just before the road curves into its descent toward Washington Boulevard. A long stairway takes you not all the way to the beach, but to the flat top of a rock wall. It’s a mini-adventure getting down to the sand from there at low tide. You wouldn’t even try at high tide.

We often descend these stairs partway to a perch perfect for watching sunsets. If the tide is way in, the waves crashing against that rock wall provide their own entertainment.

On Saturday, we just happened to arrive when the tide was way in. It was the peak of the highest tide in many weeks, and we didn’t need a chart to figure that out. Muscular waves were lining up for their crack at the shore.