Iam way too old and have seen far too much not to believe that everything in life happens for a reason. In recent weeks I’ve felt a warmth and strength from old high school friends as we joined our hearts and minds to rally around a classmate during her valiant struggle against cancer.

Relationships that were seeded in elementary and high school blossomed into genuinely touching e-mails and heartfelt phone conversations. Admit it or not, we all saw Chris’s death (she passed away last Friday morning) as a mirror on our own mortality and it shook us and brought us to our senses.

Despite coming of age with a generation that considered itself invincible, we are finally coming around to accepting that we can’t escape alive. We are all moving in the same direction, and the inevitable has brought out a new sensitivity toward each other. We are growing more comfortable with being honest and forthcoming about our feelings and our fears.

While whales in the Klamath river are unusual and a bit scary for fear Mama will be trapped, I hope you weren’t so busy watching whales that you missed the flight school taking place in the harbor.

I may not have known of it if Barbara hadn’t shared her experience. Her account was so evocative that I had to dash right down and see it, and so beautiful that I asked her permission to share it with you.

“After breakfast at Good Harvest, we went over to the harbor to see the progress. We parked on the far north side to soak up the sights and smells. I noticed a huge pelican, who seemed to be swooping aimlessly around. Then I noticed a tiny bird flapping wildly, just barely keeping airborne, trying to catch her.

Some may not look handicapped, but don’t assume that they aren’t

I’d like to reply to George Burr’s July 29 letter, “Some who use handicapped licenses don’t seem to need them”) regarding  disabled parking plates for people without limps.

Not everyone who has a handicap plate has a visible handicap. People with bad hearts and severe respiratory problems also have them.

Mr. Burr, I have a handicap plate. I have had it for 10 years. You may not see me limp so much now, because in the past year I have had both knees replaced. The hip is still a problem, but more sporadically. Arthritis is something that can be worse at varying times, especially when it is cold, wet and windy.

It’s an economic reality that communities our size generally don’t have daily newspapers anymore. Some have weeklies, others twice-weeklies. Some have nothing at all.

That said, you should know that the folks here at Third and H have loved the mad scramble of producing five editions per week.

The Daily Triplicate announced in Friday’s edition that it will convert to a three-times-a-week publication schedule starting Oct. 4.

It’s not that Del Norte doesn’t produce enough news for a daily. We have all the small-town politics and intrigue you’d expect to find anywhere, plus all the extras that come with our spectacular surroundings: vast expanses of redwoods and other public lands, a still-vibrant fishing industry operating out of a tsunami-prone harbor, and marine environmental issues stemming from that big body of water we back up to. Throw in a massive state prison to boot.

Editor’s note: House Calls runs every other Thursday. Today’s column is written by Aleen Huston, respiratory care practitioner and certified respiratory therapist.

Whether in the pool, the beach, the river, or even in your bathroom, water can be dangerous to your kids if you don’t take the right precautions.

Drowning can happen any time of year, but parents need to be particularly vigilant during summer months, when the number of drownings increases. 

Recently a local man drowned  after attempting to save his son from the strong currents of the Smith River. When it hits close to home, it makes it very important to keep water safety in mind at all times.

There is mental-hold procedure available in Del Norte County

In regards to the letter of July 22, “D.A. must ask arresting deputies why suicide victim was jailed,” Joseph Villa states that he held a seat on this county’s mental health commission and that there are no facilities to hold psychiatric patients.

Well, that is simply not true. Sutter Coast Emergency Room holds suicidal patients until a mental health specialist comes to the ER to assess the patient and determine if the person needs further treatment. If the patient needs further or more intense treatment, then they are sent to another facility for that type of treatment. This protocol has been structured this way for more than five years.

As for the comment regarding the District Attorney’s Office, I am confident that the DA’s Office knows how to do its job, and it does a very good job at that.

 Wilma Wright

Crescent City

Get the most out of a kid’s outdoor trek

Belle Oliphant, 10, of Crescent City, picks up leaves during an excursion to Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. Submitted

Working at the Wolf Creek Education Center in Redwood National and State Parks provides me with a unique perspective of our parks and their resources. I have the chance to see the redwoods through the eyes of elementary school students — a perspective that frequently differs from adults.

Take, for instance, the redwood forest. An adult may pause in wonder and awe, staring up into the canopy of an especially large tree. My students are equally impressed, often adding that the trees seem “magical” and make them feel “relaxed” and “peaceful.” However, after dedicating a few moments of their attention skyward, children often begin to gaze just as intently at the ground.

Pages of History column brought back lots of happy memories

I was reading Pages in History last week and was happy to see an article that brought back lots of memories.

My parents used to deer hunt with Sheriff Chuck Glover when I was a little girl (that was a long time ago). I was 7 and it was my birthday. Chuck and Madge invited me for breakfast. I had “Glovers Gastronomical Golden Glorius Griddle Goodies” and they were the best dad-burned hotcakes I ever ’et.

Chuck tought me how to say all that, then gave me a pair of leaded spoons. You hold them in your hand and beat rhythm to the music. We played around the campfire that night while my dad played guitar. Then Chuck and I jumped on a round log and did the twist.

There were a lot of old-timers there My grandparents Bill and Charlotte McKay, Sharkey and Alice Boyet, Leon Jones, George Hanson Sr., my Uncle Billy Mckay and my parents Benny and Barbara Bennett.

When I go back to that spot I fill my soul.

Debbie Berg

Beaver Creek Calif.

When I was elected senior class president, I didn’t realize it would be a life­­long responsibility.

As my friend and classmate Chris Mori Fayad, whom I wrote about a few weeks ago, grew weaker in a New York hospital, I felt an urge to tell our classmates. The e-mail addresses I collected for our 40th reunion almost three years ago to the day made it easy for me to send out the word that our dear friend was dying. 

The response was exactly what I should have expected from this small group of extraordinary women.

Friday morning I opened the back door and fell off the edge of now, landing in an equally foggy July morning a couple decades ago. It was a year that was colder than usual, a lot like this one.

In the backyard I found the rabbit hutch tipped over and rolled around in an attempt to get at its contents. A pair of terrified rabbits huddled, shaking, as far from the edges as they could get. There wasn’t a single bit of rabbit chow in the area. It wasn’t much, but in a year like this one, it was enough to attract a bear.

It is absolutely true that “a fed bear is a dead bear,” and it’s our responsibility to protect them from themselves.