Dear Editor,
I don’t know about you, but when I’m sitting shotgun, driving down the highway, I like to hang my head way out the window, suck up those sniffs and really let my ears fly. It’s both invigorating and relaxing at the same time. It’s doggie porn.
Driving down 101 on my way home from my daily Fitch Mountain hike I caught a mossy whiff of the Russian River as we passed over it (Ah, the Russian River, itself invigorating and relaxing at the same time). My “master,” lacking my olfactory gifts, was oblivious to the occasion. Do you know when you are crossing the River on 101? Probably not—because there is no sign. I’m not a strong reader, so signs are wasted on me, but humans need them to alert them to important places like monuments, gas stations, places to get food and rivers.
Why is there no sign honoring our Russian River on Highway 101? All other rivers I know in California like the Eel, Trinity and Sacramento have signs announcing their presence. Here we have a local treasure of natural beauty and historic significance that everyone—dogs, otters, humans, ducks, fish—can enjoy, that is left anonymous. It may be Healdsburg’s crown jewel, yet so many of us take the river for granted. So wrong. Rivers have feelings, too. Let’s show some respect.
Our river has been abused for decades by gravel mining and human encroachment, and it needs love more than ever. Let’s correct this inequity now. Hello Sen. Mike McGuire, Mayor Mitchell, Cal Trans!
Solito,
The Russian River Rover
Kindness is still a thing
Dear Editor,
I wanted to share something that happened recently in Healdsburg that left me feeling incredibly grateful—and hopeful.
While driving home after a bike ride with friends in Santa Rosa, about half a mile from my house on University Street, the Thule bike rack on my car (with my bike still attached) came loose and landed in the middle of the road. I pulled over, turned on my hazard lights and got out, trying unsuccessfully to move the heavy rack and bike out of traffic. It was clear I couldn’t do it alone.
Within minutes, a man in a truck stopped. He quickly assessed the situation and told me he’d help. He lifted the rack and bike out of the road, asked me to move my car to a safer spot, and then proceeded to pull out what seemed like a whole toolbox from his truck—he told me he was a contractor—and fixed the problem. He reattached the rack and bike securely to my car, made sure I was safe and ready to go, and then simply said goodbye.
His name was Scott. He didn’t know me, didn’t owe me anything and even joked that he usually wouldn’t stop for a cyclist because they tend to annoy him—but that day, he did. And I’m so grateful that he did.
In a time when our city and country often feel deeply divided, it was a beautiful reminder that kindness still exists—freely given, without conditions. That small act of human decency made a big impact on me.
Thank you Scott, wherever you are, for being my roadside angel that day.
Judy Fujita,
Healdsburg
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