 Sunday, October 6th sees the return of Writers & Wine for its yearly presentation at the Fern Ridge Library and this year’s featured author will be none other than esteemed writer and columnist Bob Welch.
Welch’s columns on everyday people and everyday life used to grace the pages of the Register-Guard twice a week and were enjoyed by many. Who could forget his tales about becoming a grandfather, wiffleball games in his north Eugene backyard, and, of course, his references to wife Sally, better known as “She Who?” Twice, Welch won the National Society of Newspaper Columnist’s “Best Writing” award, a well-deserved honor. When he stepped down to enjoy a well-earned retirement, it was like saying goodbye to an old friend. Bob Welch is also the author of more than two dozen books, including The Wizard of Foz, Track & Field Writers of America’s 2019 Book of the Year, and American Nightingale, an Oregon Book Award Finalist and featured on ABC’s Good Morning America. For Writers and Wine, however, Welch will be discussing his latest work, Seven Summers (And a Few Bummers), a sequel to Cascade Summer (2012) both of which chronicle his completion of the 2,650 hike of the Pacific Crest Trail with his brother-in-law Glenn over a decade of summers. Seven Summers provides the answer to one question among many: After “just doing Oregon,” are two sixty-something brothers-in-law capable of a hike that serves up defeat to more than half who attempt it? Poignant, poetic, and outrageously funny, this engaging tale helps readers understand the soul of America’s iconic trail, find humor in aging, celebrate the gift that is friendship, and whether one hikes or not, urge the reader to consider living a life with a deeper thirst for adventure. Presented by the Fern Ridge Library Foundation, Writers and Wine also features wine from Silvan Ridge Winery. Raffle tickets, including a $400 gift certificate to the Overleaf Lodge in Yachats, are on sale for $10 and Fun Raffle tickets to the Oregon Coast Aquarium and other prizes are available for $5 each. One does not need to be present to wine. For those who cannot attend but would like to participate, new to Writers and Wine this year is a gift bag purchase for $55 that includes a copy of the book, gift card for $25 that can be used at Silvan Ridge Winery, all in a library tote bag that may be picked up during regular hours at the library after October 7th. For more information and ticket sales, visit www.frlfoundation.org/events or purchase tickets at the Fern Ridge Library for $65 per person or $100 per couple. The event runs from 3:30 – 6:00 p.m.
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 Drive down Knight Road in Elmira and you will see a sign by a wooded drive announcing that you have arrived at Klassic Tails Inn. At the end of this drive in a sunny clearing is a place where dogs, cats, rabbits, birds, and even a bearded dragon have a home away from home when their people have to be away. Owned by Jim and Michelle Sodeman, the Klassic Tails Inn was not something they ever imagined doing, but life is that way sometimes. What starts out as a way to earn extra money turns into a previously unexpected opportunity. Michelle Sodeman had worked for the Klassic Tails Inn under previous owner Ada Curtis after she and Jim returned to Veneta with their three children from Roseburg where Jim worked for Frito Lay until taking a job with Kellogg Snacks that required much less separation from the family. Jesse wound up asking Jim and Michelle if they would assume stewardship of the kennel in a year’s time, which they agreed to, but this was bumped up to six months when she was diagnosed with cancer and needed to be able to heal. The Sodeman’s threw themselves into their new venture with Jim continuing to work at Kellogg Snacks until it became apparent that working at both places was just too much. Now, he and Michelle spend their days working to make their furry and feathered guests as comfortable as possible so while their owners’ vacation they can vacation, too. The first step in having a pet stay at Klassic Tails is an evaluation to see how a dog does when it is separated from its owner and how best to make the transition. This is done in a courtyard where they are away from other guests and not distracted by barking or other behaviors. After this step comes check-in where the name and number of the guest’s vet is given, behavior issues are discussed and any medication the animal is on is made known. Owners can bring their pet’s food with them, which 75-80% opt to do, but food is also provided. The Sodeman’s are trained to medicate and give injections and when at capacity, the inn can house 42 dogs. Typically, bookings are made for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, with many dogs going home on Monday. Tours are offered during business hours, but the Sodeman’s try to steer people to Tuesdays and Wednesdays, when they are less busy. The inn itself is actually comprised of three buildings. The smaller of the two dog boarding buildings also houses the office and is typically reserved for dogs weighing 40 pounds or less. In here, these house spots as they are called, offer less intimidation for a smaller dog and a more home-like feel. The office door is left open to allow the dogs to hear the sounds as it helps them settle as some are unable to do so unless someone is checking on them and offering reassurance. The larger dogs are housed in the kennel building that is equipped with a grooming room and bathtub as well as turn-out spaces where the dogs are put for 45 minutes to an hour to relieve themselves. All fencing around these small yards is six feet high with perimeter fencing being eight feet high to ensure that nobody accidentally gets out. For more extended time outdoors there is a half-acre fenced play yard where guests can run and play along wooded paths unleashed for their enrichment, something Jim implemented in 2010. During this time, he is known to toss a ball or a frisbee for a rousing game of fetch, which is typically met with great enthusiasm. Dogs are also taken on walks in increments of a mile, two miles, and for those who are older or have issues, a gentle walk. Because they are on lead, this is the only time dogs from different households are blended. Walks are done before 9 a.m. and dogs are chosen by size, pace, and temperament. Safety is top of the line and those walking the dogs must wear reflective vests and no earbuds or radios are allowed. Over in the smallest of the three buildings is where the cats and smaller animals are housed. There are six cattery suites that all have windows and individual bedding. One suite has a windowed door for guests who are unable to get up on a perch. Classical music plays softly as it helps to settle the cats down. Typically, cats stay at the inn for 5-7 days. For an extra fee, the inn offers a shuttle service that includes pick-up and delivery, and the Sodeman’s will also take a person to the airport if need be. “I feel gifted to live where I work,” Jim says as he waxes poetic about running the inn. Then, with hearty laughter he adds, “It’s a great commute.” The Sodeman’s try to have the inn undergo one major improvement each year and past years have seen the installation of tile on the floors and walls, epoxy floors in the kennels, heating and air conditioning. Jim also tries to engage on the inn’s website and Facebook page every day and takes great pride in offering outstanding customer service. “We offer a Disneyland experience and Les Schwab service,” he simply states. Over the years, the Sodeman’s three children Matthew, Brontae and Reid have all taken an active role in helping out at the inn though more recently it has been Reid who has been his father’s right-hand man. He, Jim, and Michelle, along with a couple of staff members spend their days making sure their guests are comfortable, happy, and are in a clean, safe environment while their owners are away. It’s more a passion than a job for them and it shows in how Jim knows all the guests’ names and greets them warmly as he walks past their kennels, and it shows in all that is done to ensure the best experience possible for those that come to stay. For their part, the guests appear to be just as happy to see him. It may not have been a part of the Sodeman’s plans to own a kennel, but for them and the guests both, it’s pretty close to perfect.  Pre, a Whippet named for runner Steve Prefontaine poses by a retired fire hydrant in one of the turnout yards.  Kodiak sings a welcome during a tour of the kennel.  When the building that housed Hack’s and Yukon Jack’s came up for sale, Hernan Torres saw an opportunity. He wanted someone in town to own whatever went in there and he decided that someone should be himself. The son of Luis Torres, owner of Ixtapa, he had plenty of experience in the restaurant business and he had a vision for what this new business could be and how it could serve the community. Nine months after its grand opening, the Long Tom Bar and Grill is thriving, and Torres is pleased. A lot of hard work went into this passion project including a good cleaning, painting the exterior of the building, replacing the floors, adding a wall to divide the bar portion from the restaurant portion, and the addition of more TV’s and another pool table. Torres has also reintroduced live bands and karaoke, something the previous owner of the building had done away with. Now, every Friday a different live band plays, with most of them being local, and the genres run from country to rock to blues. Saturday nights are for karaoke and Wednesday nights are set aside for country line dancing, which has proven popular. Torres states that his objective is to offer a safe environment for people to mingle and enjoy themselves and he also wanted to create a family type of atmosphere. He aims to keep the restaurant “rustic, country,” and makes sure that people behave themselves. When his help is needed, Torres will fill in everywhere, a work ethic he learned at Ixtapa. “A good owner will learn to do it all,” he plainly states while seated in a booth off to the side of the bar. Torres has gotten lucky with his staff, many of whom are locals, and he strives to take care of them as much as he takes care of the business. “I love a family-oriented business,” he says. “I want people to see it not as work, but as a good place to come.” While the bar serves the usual fried fare, the restaurant offers patrons rib-eye, New York and T-bone steaks, different pastas, flat breads such as pizza which is made in-house, and, of course, there is the very popular Taco Tuesdays, which features chicken and ground beef. For dessert, one can order cinnamon roll cheesecake or lave cake, which are made in-house, or New York cheesecake. Torres offers a special every day and tries to get people to interact with the restaurant’s website and Facebook page to see what the special is. Those in the bar can eat the same meals offered in the restaurant and there are eleven taps, draft beers and rare bourbons. While he has no plans to expand at this time as he would rather focus on the restaurant’s initial success, Torres will be applying next month to have video lottery machines installed and will be adding a projector to show programs on the wall. Torres hopes that the Long Tom Bar and Grill will be around a good long time and he hopes also to be able to serve in the community doing charitable work of some sort, perhaps kids sports, and community events. For now, however, he is content to bask in the glow of a job well done and an establishment well received. He has accomplished what he set out to do and everything else is a bonus. With the hard work he unafraid to do and the work ethic instilled at Ixtapa, he should see his dream of the Long Tom Bar and Grill being around for a long time become a reality.    It’s been impossible not to notice the work taking place next to the skate park and many have wondered what is being built. There has also been curiosity about the work being done behind the Service Center and next to the railroad tracks, though to a lesser extent. Both projects are a result of the city’s response to residents’ requests. The Bark and Whistle Dog Park, which will be nestled on approximately 1.7 acres, will eventually call the space between the Service Center and the railroad tracks home. Upon completion, it will include fencing separating the large dog area from where the small dogs will be able to run, a drinking fountain/dog watering station, and an ADA accessible concrete walkway and entrance. Several blocks south, four regulation size pickleball courts are being built at Territorial Park. The idea for these and the dog park came from public input received in the course of the Parks and Open Space Master Plan process and a parks community survey. Residents of Veneta requested these two amenities more than anything else, according to Matt Laird, Veneta Community Development Director, and the city was able to receive a $75,000 grant from the Oregon Parks and Recreation Department to help finance the Pickleball courts construction. The city waits, meanwhile, to learn the fate of a grant for the dog park and its formation. Overseen by Public Works Director Kyle Schauer, the Pickleball courts are expected to open this autumn, while the dog park is expected to start welcoming canine guests and their owner’s next spring.   A summer afternoon turned deadly on Fern Ridge Reservoir, resulting in a recovery by the Lane County Sheriff’s Marine Patrol.
At approximately 3 p.m., Marine Patrol deputies and Oregon State Police responded to Fern Ridge after receiving a report of a drowning. According to witnesses, the victim, a 26-year-old man, was swimming sans life jacket from their boat and failed to resurface after diving beneath the water’s surface. Volunteers with the Lane County Sheriff’s Dive Team responded and after a search that lasted several hours the unnamed victim was located. Thanks are being given to those Lane County Sheriff’s volunteers who assisted with this emotionally difficult case as well as to the Trauma Intervention Program (TIP) volunteers who aided the witnesses to the drowning. Lakes and Rivers are still quite frigid, which makes them particularly dangerous on hot days. The sheriff’s department stresses that if people are going to be enjoying their time on or in the water that they please wear a life jacket.  A Lane County Sheriff’s KP, Ripp, was instrumental in the apprehension of a suspect wanted by the U.S. Marshals.
Early on July 12th, a Lane County Sheriff’s deputy who was investigating a theft case became aware that Kirbie Lynne Hulsey, 40, was at a residence in the 24600 block of Demming Ridge Road. The U.S. Marshals Service had a federal warrant out for her arrest. Upon deputies’ arrival, Hulsey fled into the woods behind the property. Additional deputies responded with both a drone and Ripp. With his assistance, Halsey was found hiding in thick brush and arrested without further incident.  A shooting on Sunday has led to the arrest of a 33-year-old man by Lane County Sheriff’s deputies.
At approximately 7:20 p.m., deputies responded to Perkins Peninsula Park after receiving a report that a female had been shot. She was taken to an area hospital with a non life-threatening injury to her arm/shoulder. In the course of the investigation, deputies took Timothy Earl Shaw, 33, into custody on charges of Assault in the 1st Degree and Unlawful Use of a Weapon. Another individual, Hannah Fetko, 32, was also arrested on an outstanding warrant. Both were lodged at the Lane County Jail without incident. Anyone with information about this incident is requested to phone the Lane County Sheriff’s Office at 541-682-4141.   I never planned to have a farm. Not once did I ever think, “Gee, I’d like to find out what it’s like to nurse a dying rooster back to life, get up at midnight to give a goat an injection of antibiotics, open and drain an abscess, give a duck a therapy bath. No, I had hopes of finding the right person and settling down in the suburbs to raise a family. A farm was once the farthest thing from my mind. However, Mr. Right never came along. But the farm did.
Things started surreptitiously enough. While I was volunteering at the library years ago, the then Assistant Director came in one morning with a storage container containing three fuzzy ducklings. Their mother had left the nest before they had hatched, and the assistant director was leaving for vacation. Would somebody be willing to raise them in her stead? I couldn’t help glancing in at them and as I did, I read the accompanying note. Half Mallard and half Indian Runner, free to a good home. Indian Runner? I pondered this. The only duck breeds I knew were Mallards and those really cute white ducks. Oh, and those ducks with the fleshy faces. Weren’t they Pekins? Indian Runners. What on earth kind of a duck was that? I had to admit, those ducklings were awfully cute. Before I left the library early that afternoon, I told Alice that if nobody wanted the ducklings by the end of the day, I would be glad to give them a home. I felt confident saying this as I was sure that somebody would come in, see them, and be as enchanted as I was. There was no chance whatsoever of these ducklings becoming mine. At five thirty that evening however, the phone rang, and Fern Ridge Library came up on the Caller ID. I groaned. I knew exactly who was calling and why. A mad rush to the library shortly before closing followed so I could bring home the two ducklings who were left (somebody took the third) and quickly check out a pair of books on the care of ducks. I was going to need to cram. I knew nothing where ducks were concerned. I also was going to have to figure out how to house them and, how I was going to explain them to my sister. Thus, began the era of Junior and Jellybean, ….. It turned out I was rather good with ducks. It also turned out that I had checked out two volumes of the same book on duck care but with different covers. One was returned immediately, one was read from cover to cover, save for the chapter about butchering them, which was worth only a glance and a grimace. There would be no butchering of these little creatures, thank you very much, and, who knew there were so many duck breeds? Huh. Junior and Jellybean quickly imprinted on me and would follow me about the yard. If I would pause, they would immediately stop waddling and lay down. As soon as I would resume walking, so would they. I was their mama and they trusted me implicitly. It was a good feeling. I figured if they were willing to put such great faith in me, I must be doing something right. Seeing them swim for the first time, replete with diving beneath the water’s surface, a nod to their Mallard half, was enough to make my chest swell with maternal pride. When they moved from their nursery in a small animal pen in the shop to the little yard we constructed replete with a house just big enough for the two of them, I worried about them spending the night outdoors. Would they be safe? Would they be warm enough? Would they remember to brush their teeth and say their prayers? My babies had grown up. I had managed to raise them to the point that they could start to become independent of me and I was rather proud of myself, considering how little I knew at the time. In keeping with their having become teenagers, Junior and Jellybean no longer wanted to follow me with the complete adoration they had once bestowed me with. Rather, I seemed to just be someone who was there to feed them and clean up after them and, at times, I was even a nuisance with my seemingly constant fussing and worrying. I opted not to take it personally. After all, I was once a teenager myself. A few months after their arrival, Junior and Jellybean were joined by Jacob, a full-blooded Indian Runner drake with black plumage that glistened green in the sunlight and a small white patch on his chest that could have passed for a clerical collar. Then came Monty, Midge, and Myrtle, three of Jacob’s relatives, and I had myself a small flock. With four ducks, the proper term for a female of the species, I also had eggs and I would dutifully collect them every morning while thinking, “Wow! I’m practically a farm girl!” Hiram was next to arrive. A bantam rooster with deep red and blue plumage, he had narrowly escaped ending up in a soup pot when an ad pleading for somebody to spare him this fate caught my eye on Craigslist. Even though I had no interest and less desire to own a rooster, I found myself responding. Just like with Junior and Jellybean, I just couldn’t help myself. The next thing I knew, I was making arrangements for Hiram to be brought out to live with my ducks. If I had held any doubts about Hiram being able to hold his own with the ducks, he quickly proved that I had nothing to worry about. He wasted no time in assimilating himself with his new flock and, as far as he was concerned, he was a duck. Everywhere the ducks went, so did he. The ducks didn’t mind, even if he did seem a little odd, what with his stopping to crow every so often, once he learned how. They weren’t quite sure what to make of that. I mean, why would he need to puff his feathers, throw his head back and emit those raucous sounds? It probably made no sense to them. They probably saw no point in such behavior. Hiram, for his part, no doubt couldn’t understand why his flock would happily frolic in water of all things. Did they realize what they were doing? Had they not heard the old saying, “madder than a wet hen?” Alas, they came to an agreement of sorts that Hiram would crow whenever the notion struck, which was often, and the ducks would be free to swim all they wanted. Eventually, hens joined the now growing farm as I thought Hiram would appreciate some of his own kind. I had envisioned him lying in the sun alongside his harem in a state of bliss that only a free ranging rooster with a bevy of hens at his disposal could experience. Hiram, however, could not have been less interested. He was a duck, a crowing, water hating duck, and how could I have been so foolish as to not understand this? Though I was a bit disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm, I was not to be dissuaded. I was learning as I went along, and I found that I liked it. Chickens were a lot more interesting than I had ever given them credit for. Maybe, just maybe, I was becoming a farm girl. With all those birds, we began to get more eggs than we needed, so I started to sell the extra to colleagues at Womenspace, the domestic violence agency where I was a community advocate. They thought of me as a farm girl. Perhaps they were on to something. This way of life, unplanned as it was, definitely seemed to agree with me and I wore my newly minted designation with a bit of pride. I even began to write a column for the agency’s monthly newsletter about the happenings on “This Here Farm” that was met with great rejoinder. Little did they know how little I knew. Little did I know how little I knew! Then, came the goats. A series of conversations with my then hairdresser on the subject led me to acquire from her Boer goats that had been headed for the auction and, probably, slaughter. I couldn’t stand that thought. Why should they have to lose their lives just because they were too small to be good breeders? Though, I wasn’t really set up for goats, and in spite of the fact that I knew nothing about them either, a clear trend was emerging. Besides, I’d been wanting a goat or two. They seemed liked they’d be good for clearing up brambles and such around the acreage and I was all for any kind of a helping hand or hoof we could get. On a warm Sunday afternoon in late summer, Mocha, Sweet Pea, and String Bean were delivered to me and I was entranced. I was also quite surprised. I had thought I was getting just Mocha and Sweet Pea. I hadn’t realized at the time that Sweet Pea had a twin brother, albeit one who refused to let her go without him. When I was asked if I minded if String Bean stayed, too, I was delighted. Of course, he could stay. Owing goats was a much bigger undertaking than chickens or ducks, but I jumped right in. Because Mocha had just weaned a pair of twins, her udder was full, so I tried to milk her. In my then ignorance, I attempted to place a quart sized glass measuring cup beneath her and then carefully squeeze her teats in the way I remembered being shown by a neighbor years before when I was a child. Mocha would have none of this and I finally had to give up or get killed. I was bummed. I really wanted to be a farm girl and milk the goat! There were other things to learn about caring for goats as well, such as how to trim hooves. The goats’ former owner came over and gave me a lesson while making it look quite easy. I’d had no idea that goats needed their hooves trimmed and, when I attempted to do as she had done, I fumbled terribly. Subsequent hoof trimmings were rather noisy affairs as my sister would struggle to hold the goats still while I trimmed and tried to avoid bloodshed, and we both yelled. One such session resulted in Mocha giving me a swift kick to the ribs. To say it hurt would have been an understatement, but I somehow managed to catch my breath and continue. Another day found me becoming entangled in a lead that was attached to Mocha while simultaneously (and accidentally) wrapped around Sting Bean’s horns. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged, on my back, for several feet before I was somehow shaken free and left to lay in the dust, a mere object in the way of their destination. My right shoulder and my right elbow suffered some nasty abrasions and I was breathless from the shock of such a violent method of traveling, but none the worse for wear. It was all a part of learning, and there was so much to learn that couldn’t come from a book. Goats don’t have upper teeth!? Wow! Who knew that, and who knew a goat would steal your apple out of your hand and eat it themselves? That was rude! As if ducks, chickens, and goats weren’t enough, turkeys then came along when one sunny summer evening, a large flock of wild turkeys came strolling into the yard. It wasn’t long before they, too, were a part of this ever-growing cast of characters. I was quite taken with them. They had a way of communicating that fascinated the inner ornithologist in me. If one would become separated from the flock, it would whistle in a certain way as if to call out and say, “Where are you? Where did you go?” Upon hearing the lone turkey’s cry, the others would whistle back as if to respond, “Over here! We’re over here, you dummy!” I decided I wanted to conduct a scientific experiment and I decided one day to try and emulate that whistle. When the opportunity presented itself, I puckered up and did my best to sound like a lost turkey. My impersonation wasn’t half bad. At least, I thought so, but would the turkeys? They showed the slightest modicum of interest and I was encouraged. So, I decided to up the ante. The next time I whistled, I also threw some seed on the ground, food being the great motivator that it is. Then, I stepped aside and waited. Sure enough, after some wary eyed glances in my direction, the flock paraded up to the farmyard and began to eat. Wow! I was impressed with myself! Maybe I was a bona fide turkey whisperer. Maybe I needed my own wildlife program to host. The next day, I tried it again and, once again, I got a response. The turkeys weren’t quite as wary as they had been and, to reward them for humoring me, I gave them more seed. As long as I made it worth their while, they were willing to play my little game. Many years have passed since those early days and I am a bona fide, dyed in the wool farm girl with the work worn hands and developed biceps to show for it. My knowledge of the animals in my care has increased immensely as has my ability to care for them. I can now tell you about the various breeds of chickens, which ones are best for laying and which are used more for their meat, as well as what color eggs they lay and what size. I can give you similar advice about ducks (the fleshy faced ducks are muscovies and I just love them now) and even answer questions about turkeys. I can also talk about goats with a healthy amount of knowledge. Being a farm girl means I have also gained skills I never expected to have. I can and do trim hooves with little in the way of difficulty. I always make sure to have my phone perched nearby and Pandora playing 60’s tunes as the goats enjoy music with their hoof trim. If it will keep them calm and make the job easier, I’m all for it and I enjoy the music, too. I can and do give booster shots to the goats with great skill. I have bottle raised kids and I have midwifed. Watching a new life come into the world was an awesome experience once I assured myself that I could do this. When the second goat gave birth four days later, I was practically an old hand at this and not the slightest bit nervous. Of course, raising mama goat #2 from a 1 lb. 3 day old to an adult was pretty awesome, too. I have also hatched eggs in an incubator. It never gets tiring watching a duckling tumble out of it’s shell, wet and exhausted from passing nature’s fitness test. And, yes, I have opened and drained a few abscesses, nursed a rooster back from the brink, given a therapy bath (or two) and gotten up at midnight to give an injection of antibiotics to a sick goat. I can lay claim to this and so much more. The farm has come a long way from those early days of Junior and Jellybean, who have long since traded their earthly wings for something angelic. Hiram has done the same. Mocha, String Bean, and Sweet Pea have also left us as age and illness have struck, but a herd of Nigerian Dwarfs now calls the farm home and live in a small goat barn that could double as a fort it is so sturdily built. Some of my own sweat equity has gone into this building as it did with the construction of an extra, extra, large poultry yard when free ranging was no longer safe or feasible. Some of the nails in the laying house are ones that I drove in. There are others who have since joined this cast of characters that comprises my farm such as the pea fowl and they have all succeeded in stealing my heart. It’s just that way. Chicks need to be raised, as do ducklings in order to provide the eggs that I now sell to a healthy customer base, some of whom have become friends. If a kid goat needs a surrogate mommy to raise her, I am not going to say no. For me, it’s just not possible. There is always room in my heart for one more. No, I never planned on having this farm that began with two orphaned ducks and an inability to keep my mouth shut. This was one big accident that has turned out surprisingly well. I have learned, I have laughed, and, yes, I have even cried. It might have been nice to have found Mr. Right and settled down in the suburbs, had babies, but, when a three-month-old kid goat stands on end and wraps her front legs around my legs so she can give me a hug, that’s pretty nice, too.  The weather could not have been better for the first Veneta 4th of July celebration. Though temperatures were hot, a steady breeze blew, offering much needed comfort, and there was nary a cloud in the sky. Held at the Veneta park, Veneta 4th was well attended by both those who wished to enjoy themselves with the various offerings as well as different small entrepreneurs, the Applegate Art Guild, and Applegate Regional Theatre, which not only had information about upcoming events, but also hosted a presentation by several members of the Reader’s Theatre troupe performing a Five-Minute Mystery. A dunk tank proved popular for those inside and outside of it on this toasty Independence Day as did the water that was sprayed from the top of a long extension ladder compliments of the fire department. Hot and excited children cried out gleefully as they ran back and forth beneath the refreshing shower. A hydration station offering cold water to drink was set up near the entrance to the park as was a shaved ice truck that seemed to be doing steady business. Free face painting was available and at one display, several children worked diligently on coloring in visors that they would be able to wear while showing off their artistry. Music, both live and recorded, played from the bandstand, and at one point the National Anthem was sung followed by a small parade that was led by a gentleman on an E bike and populated by people waving large inflatable pencils, a person with a walker and a Golden Retriever puppy. The small group tromped around the park’s perimeter before coming to a stop near the entrance and at that point, a contest was held to determine who had the most patriotic costume. All of this and more came about because Veneta City Councilwoman Alexa Benson decided the city needed to do something and went from business to business seeking donations, according to Brittany Jones, who was working at the booth were the first Veneta 4th mural was being painted. Everyone who participated in the festivities did so on a volunteer basis, Jones explained, and it is the collective hope that the city will see how successful this celebration was and be willing to financially back next year’s. Judging from the happy faces, the warm hellos between friends, acquaintances, and even strangers, along with frequent laughter made the park a place where differences were temporarily set aside, cares were momentarily forgotten about, and people came together to celebrate rather than finger point. For those several hours the celebration was held, those who attended were of one accord and all were there to have a good time. From what could be seen, the celebration of July the 4th was a success and a new tradition in unity that will be looked forward to, was begun.  Jan Stephens and Vicki Sourdry sit at the table at the Applegate Regional Theatre display.  Kids line up for a turn to dunk someone.  Make a trip to Grocery Outlet and you will see the silver trailer parked in a far corner of it’s lot. The door is wide open in a welcoming gesture to all who wish to come in as is the fold-out window and the wheelchair ramp at the back. All are invited to peruse the selection of books at Hideaway Hollow, Veneta’s new mobile book shop.
Run by resident Amy Kocyan, the new business has been met with postive reviews and happy customers since it’s opening last month. Kocyan, who is a self-professed lover of the written word, did so after sensing a collective frustration, one that she shared, over the lack of an easily accessible bookstore in the area. After deciding to do something about this dearth, she purchased a utility trailer off of Craigslist and with help from her husband, added shelving and flooring and completed the previously unfinished ceiling to create a small, but comfortable space for people to look over the titles she has for sale. Kocyan carries a selection of adult and children’s books in a variety of genres such as romance, science fiction/fantasy, mysteries, YA, picture books, and graphic novels. Some of these are new releases she obtains from the publisher, and others come from remainders dealers. These, she explains on a warm, but cloudy Sunday morning, are unsold copies of books that dealers are allowed to return to the publisher in exchage for credit. The publisher then marks the book as a remainder and once this is done, it can then be sold to small, local shops at a steeply discounted rate that can then be passed on to the shop’s customers. Kocyan says these remainder books are “a mixed bag” and she tries to read reviews before deciding on a selection. Originally open on weekends only, Hideaway Hollow, a name given to the shop to suggest a hidden gem after Kocyan conferred with family and friends, is now open from Tuesdays – Saturdays from 10:00 a.m. until 6 p.m. While she would eventually like to expand and have a brick and motar store, Kocyan knowns this is currently beyond her budget and this is okay as she is happy where she is in the Grocery Outlet parking lot where she is visible to both store customers and those driving by on Highway 126. For now, she is just trying to get estblished. Because the shop is moble, Kocyan would like to also take it to events and Hideaway Hollow has a number of arrangements that would be feasible for both large and small spaces, which includes a large tent that can be utilized rather than the trailer in smaller areas. She is also open to working with other businesses and the community on projects and promotions. Eventually, Kocyan would like to add biographies to her shelves as she wants to have a good selection of genres so that everyone can find a book or more than one of interest. She would also like to do an outdoor display beyond the small one she has just beneath the window. She loves keeping kids interested in reading with smaller chapter books that aren’t too duanting to the beginning chapter book reader, and knows that they also love Manga, so she always keeps selection of those on hand. With her enhtusiasm for books and her desire to pass this on to her customers, Kocyan has made quite an impression already. People are happy to have a place to buy books without having to make the trip to Eugene and it has been a good three decades since there has been such a place in Veneta. Business, she says, has been good, and it is no wonder. Buying books from Kocyan is a chance to not only own some good titles, but to be greeted with a warm smile as she makes it known how happy she is to see you. As she succinctly puts it when describing what she does for a living and why she loves it, “It’s like Christmas every day and I get to give the gifts.” What wonderful gifts they are. |
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