CVIndependent

Thu11262020

Last updateMon, 24 Aug 2020 12pm

Anita Rufus

At a time when many people have become cynical about the motives of those in the political world, people like Karina Quintanilla prove that there are still candidates for office who have the best interests of their community at heart.

Quintanilla, 41, just won a seat on the Palm Desert City Council, in her first run for public office. Born in East Los Angeles, Quintanilla—a Palm Desert resident since 2002—came to the desert in 1984 and was raised in Thousand Palms.

“My mom is an incredible woman,” she says. “Although she had never even graduated high school, she’s a brilliant woman. I’m so aware that not everybody can afford an educational experience. She juggled three jobs and raised us. (Quintanilla is the oldest of four.) If I could be a third of the woman my mom is, I’d be satisfied.

“My mom’s words of wisdom were, ‘Always keep going. Don’t wait for something to happen. If you see someone hurting, help them.’ My dad’s mom, born in 1911, married young but was credited for bringing running water, electricity, telephone service and a health center to their small Mexican village. My mom’s mom became an LVN (licensed vocational nurse), taking care of people when they were sick. They gave me the incentive and desire to serve.”

After graduating from Cathedral City High School, Quintanilla attended the University of California, Riverside (UCR), earning a bachelor’s degree in Spanish.

“Maybe the best decision I’ve ever made was taking a field trip to the Chicano Youth Leadership Conference at UCR while I was in high school,” she says. “I had gotten accepted into UC Irvine, UCLA and UC San Diego. But at UCR I thought, ‘This is the place I am at home.’

“Originally, I was going to major in history. Although I had wanted to be a teacher, within higher education, there’s only so far you can go. I realized I wanted to be a translator. People ask me why I majored in Spanish, since I spoke it and had been translator for my mom when I was only 5. It’s funny that nobody ever asks an English-speaker why they majored in English. I wanted to help broker communication, to always find just the right word. Having grown up between two cultures, I wanted to be sure I was speaking Spanish professionally. Plus, we have to learn to really listen, and not just wait for the next thing we want to say.”

After college, Quintanilla returned to the Coachella Valley.

“It made perfect sense to come back here,” she says. “I had a newborn, and my then-husband’s family was here as well. I reflected on what a great experience UCR had been, and I wanted to find a way to impact other students going to college, especially those who were also first-generation. You have to use your tools to advocate for others.”

Quintanilla became an academic adviser. That led to a teacher-credentialing program at California State University, San Bernardino’s Palm Desert campus in 2012, and she is now completing a master’s degree in public administration at Brandman University.

“The intricacies of diversity in education include understanding the challenges that many families face,” she says. “If there’s an accident or an illness in the family, helping students know how to empower themselves without feeling they must drop out is critical. If there’s something I can do to improve the quality of someone’s life, I have a personal commitment to make a difference.”

That sense of commitment has led Quintanilla to be a blood donor since 1996.

“My mom once said, ‘I haven’t donated blood in a long time,’ and I still remember going with her into the blood mobile. I was never one with money to donate, but while I’m walking around, I’m making something every day that I can share to save a life. I generally donate platelets, which means I can donate more often than those who are giving whole blood. Now, with the pandemic, I don’t have to wait as long to make a donation: I generate new platelets every day.”

One of the largest influences in Quintanilla’s life was her association with Hispanas Organized for Political Equality (HOPE). In 2015, she was selected for their leadership institute, which helped her expand her understanding of community engagement and leadership. That led to her lobbying in Sacramento for accessible health care for all Californians, as well as activism on other issues.

“One event at HOPE included a NASA researcher, a Hispanic woman, who told us how—as an average student—she didn’t think that could be the road for her. She ended up with a Ph.D. from MIT! I’ll never forget what she said to us: ‘Don’t tell me the sky’s the limit when there are footprints on the moon.’ I don’t know if that was original to her, but it sure made an impression on me.”

Quintanilla has been involved in translating documents and books, receiving credit as co-author of the Spanish-language version of Vicki Mills’ Any Body Can Enjoy Computers, which helped bring computer literacy to the Spanish-speaking community.

She returned to Cathedral City High School to co-coordinate the scholarship program, among other service. “I had been the one student on the accreditation board while I was there,” Quintanilla says. “The teachers would ask me questions, and my opinions were validated and respected. It’s hard to explain the difference that made.”

While at CSUSB-Palm Desert, Quintanilla developed a tutoring program to help students who wanted to transfer from community college to the university, and also generated a $240,000 grant from the California Wellness Foundation to help fund professional tutors at two local high schools. She was the co-plaintiff in the lawsuit that forced the city of Palm Desert to institute a district-based voting system this year.

“Before I ran for City Council, I talked to my daughters, Cristina (15) and Luz (18), and said I wouldn’t do it if they’d be uncomfortable or if it would mean I’d be too busy for them. They said they were OK with it.

“My experience through HOPE gave me confidence and adjusted the lens through which I saw myself. On the council, I hope I’m able to expand the perspective of what the community wants and needs, including real transparency. Maybe reopening some community issues based on the impact on real people would allow finding new ways to engage everyone and move toward more equity. My goal is always to engage people to think beyond their own personal comfort. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that mistakes are valuable for learning, and the learning is the experience—not the mistake.

“During the campaign, I heard people saying, ‘You give me hope,’ and I don’t take that lightly.”

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

Ozzie and Harriet was a sitcom that ran from 1952 to 1966, starring the real-life Nelson family. Ozzie, the dad, was a bandleader; Harriet; the mom, was a singer; their two sons were David and Ricky (with the latter becoming a famous recording artist).

The Nelsons portrayed a “typical” American family, where dad was a well-meaning if slightly bumbling guy; mom was all-knowing and loving; and the sons got into trouble and learned their lessons, with lots of laughs thrown in. Children who grew up in those years held up the image of an Ozzie and Harriet family as a standard of comparison for their own, generally more dysfunctional, households.

“I don’t know why you want to write about me,” says Brett Thompson. “In my family, we really were just Ozzie and Harriet.”

Thompson, 71 and a Sun City Palm Desert resident, was born in Omaha, Neb., but raised in Topeka Kan. “I was born a Cornhusker but raised a Jayhawk,” he says with a laugh. “My mother was first-generation Polish, a stay-at-home mom. Somehow, I always remember the ironing board. My siblings were spread over a 17-year period. I think the most difficult time for her was when all her kids finally grew up and left. She was the mom you read about in books.

“My dad was the youngest of eight kids. He had a tire shop with about 25 employees. I started working for him, part-time, when I was 17, and I learned how his employees felt about him as a boss. They called him ‘Abie,’ because he was long and lean, like Abraham Lincoln, and they thought of him as ‘Honest Abe.’ I get very emotional about him. As we both grew older, we became friends. He admitted to me that he wasn’t sure of his role early on, since he had always been the baby in his family. He didn’t get to see his parents being parents the way I did. Being the oldest of seven, I knew how to take care of a child.

“My parents set the bar so high. It wasn’t that you would get berated for anything. It was that you wanted to live up to them.”

After 12 years in Catholic school (“It was about the discipline that you were going to learn what you had to learn”), Thompson hoped to take a gap year before college.

“But there was a little war going on in Southeast Asia,” he says, “so I went to college for a year. I was a decent student, but not great. I just wanted a break. I ended up in the Navy for five years, as an electronic technician in naval aviation. I did end up flying over Vietnam, but that was instead of slogging through the swamps.

“I had the greatest education … in Navy schooling. Ultimately, I was in cryptology with a security clearance.”

After he left Navy, when married with three children, Thompson began a career that fit with his self-described desire for wanderlust: “I worked for manufacturers of centrifugal pumps, as everything from district sales manager to vice president to general manager and finally to CEO.

“In 2007-2008, when I sold the small company I was heading, they had some questions about how I managed my financial relations with my customers,” Thompson says. “It was an easy answer: ‘I spend time getting to know them, build relationships, build friendships. It’s about the perspective of people just being people.’ In a way, my dad had always been my mentor.”

Thompson moved to Los Angeles as the CEO of a company in 1995.

“I’d always loved Southern California, after having been stationed here while in the Navy,” he says.

The move to Sun City Palm Desert came when he retired in 2015. Since then, his golf game (16 handicap) takes up some of his time.

“It’s a sport that doesn’t require you to run fast or jump high. Average athletes, like me, think we can do it,” he says. “And it gets you outside. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever run into a rude golfer.”

The subject of sports brings up what Thompson considers the mistake from which he learned the most.

“I’ve been an objectivist since I was about 15, so I got into speech and debate, and I was good at both,” Thompson says. “In my senior year in high school, I won a competition for high schools throughout Kansas. But my high school basketball coach couldn’t handle that I was sometimes late for practice. He told me I had to choose—basketball or debate. I wouldn’t have accepted that at 19, but at 15, I let him bully me into quitting.

“In most everything in life, one way or another, you get a do-over … but not in high school sports.”

Thompson’s career took him to at least 32 countries and to all 50 states. He has a broad perspective on world affairs, and he always strives to be objective. That impulse is what steered Thompson toward the Sun City Palm Desert Forum Club. Thompson has been coordinating the group, which invites speakers on different sides of current policy and social issues, and facilitates group discussions to seek solutions. (I have done presentations at the Forum and previously wrote about the group.)

“When I got to Sun City and was looking at the clubs and organizations they have—if there’s a highlight to my life that goes beyond family, it’s looking at things from the perspective of objectivity,” he says.

Due to the pandemic, the Forum has not met for many months, so Thompson has been focused on reading.

“Since my formal education was interrupted, I’m re-learning to read the classics. I’m into Steinbeck right now,” he says.

When asked what his best decision in life has been, Thompson replies immediately: “Marrying Juli.” They have been married for 22 years. Thompson has three children from his first marriage, and he asked Juli’s grown daughter if he could officially adopt her—and she agreed. He has two grandchildren, ages 5 and 14, and delights in them.

When I ask what makes him who he is, Thompson takes a bit more time to answer.

“I still don’t know why you want to write about me,” he says. “I’m comfortable in front of an audience, talking and doing a presentation, but I don’t need to do those things. I have a lot of acquaintances, and a few real friends who know me well. I learned early on that you sacrifice for your family, no matter what.”

How’s that for an Ozzie and Harriet vibe?

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

I first met Terre York in 1996 when she drove her van, fully outfitted as a mobile chiropractic “office,” into my driveway.

“There was an idea floating around at that time for mobile chiropractic services,” York says. “One of my patients had become a truck driver, and I realized we had truck stops all around our area, and drivers could use the services. But truck-stop legal counsel said they were concerned it would be seen as a prostitution service. I said, ‘If I were a 6-foot-tall guy, would you still think that?’”

York was born in Wisconsin 72 years ago, the eldest of four, before her family moved west; she was raised in Canoga Park, in the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles. “My mom had come from northern Minnesota and was part Ojibwa (the Native American tribe with the fifth-largest population in the United States). As a child, she had been called a ‘dirty little Indian,’ and she wasn’t allowed to go to the same school with the other kids. She attended junior college, and met my dad and got married. She was a stay-at-home mom all the years we were growing up.

“My mom was always very political, particularly regarding anything related to segregation or civil rights. She said, ‘People are just people.’ She also always said, ‘Whatever you want to do, you can do it.’”

York’s father was, in her words, “the quiet one. He was an aerospace engineer who worked on the stealth bomber. My dad could fix anything and build anything. He handmade my first stroller, and it looked like something from outer space! I learned how to build and fix things from him. I was definitely not a princess—I was his sidekick.

“My dad stayed healthy up until he was 97, and my mom made it to 89. I come from good genes.”

York began working after school when she was 16, in the office of her medical doctor. “I did intake of patients, and later went to medical-assistant school and worked in several medical offices,” she says.

York attended Santa Monica College, studying biology. “I met a woman who was doing cellulite massage for movie stars,” York recalls, “who decided she wanted to study opera. I worked with her (also doing massage) for six months, and she gave me her entire clientele—names like Jane Fonda, Goldie Hawn, Raquel Welch and Britt Ekland. I had my hands on some of the most gorgeous people in the world!”

At 28, York entered chiropractic school; four years later, she’d completed her degree and training.

“I thought … the medical community would adopt us,” York says about the chiropractic profession. “Sadly, even now, that isn’t happening. When I first started practicing, we could send patients to a hospital if they needed traction, or for things like MRI tests. It went the opposite way: It’s very restrictive based on insurance companies, big pharma, and the American Medical Association. I had always worked with doctors in Los Angeles, but when I came to the Coachella Valley, it was very difficult.”

York has done a lot of work with sports injuries, including working onsite at Indian Wells Tennis Garden. Her philosophy explains why her patients keep coming back.

“Originally,” she says, “the founders used just a bench and hands. Today, they’re known as ‘straights.’ In the 1920s and 1930s, a lot of experimentation began with electrical mechanisms, hydrotherapy and mineral baths. In chiropractics, they’re known as ‘mixers,’ who use X-ray, physical therapy, ultrasound, lasers and tissue healing. I was trained in those methods and comfortable with it all based on my previous experience.

“My attitude is that the body is designed to take care of itself, with a kind of innate intelligence. If you keep the body in alignment, it’s then free to carry out its purpose. What I do is not just reduce pain. My goal is to see patients improve and do better, with a sense of physical wellness, and using fewer drugs. They don’t have to take opiates. I’m not anti-medicine but believe in both sides of the equation. Anything I can do to make someone feel better and heal is good. My job is to keep people at their lowest state of discomfort.”

During the pandemic, York is keeping shorter office hours, because she needs to help her two children, ages 10 and 13, with online learning. York and her partner, Alisa, have now been married for four years.

“She wanted children,” says York, “and I really hadn’t thought about it. We started with an infant foster child who soon went back to her mother, and then another infant who also returned to the birth mother. It was so hard handing them off; we couldn’t keep doing that. The social worker finally said, ‘I’ve got two kids available. Would you like to meet them?’ We fell in love. We adopted them in 2014.”

York says she at first didn’t know for sure that she was gay, although she remembers having attachments to some of her female teachers and friends.

“When the other girls were doing hair at sleepovers, I wanted to play baseball and football with the boys,” she says. “My mom later said that when I was about 5, I told her that when I grew up, I wanted to be a boy! I finally knew at about 25—I had a crush that was reciprocated, and I thought, ‘Oh, that’s what it’s all about.’ My mom said she was wondering when I’d figure it out, and my dad was OK with it. It was just not a problem; my whole family was just so normal about it.”

York was raised Catholic, but began questioning portions of her faith around age 16.

“I saw the pope and the trappings of the church as kind of frivolous,” she says. “After all, Jesus wore a robe and sandals. I started breaking away from the church, and now I consider myself a spiritual being. I was ordained as a minister of the Church of Religious Science, and even performed a marriage for some friends from the U.K.”

Ask Terre York what her biggest mistake in life has been, and she quickly says it was not going to medical school. “I would have made a very good surgeon,” she says.

But when I ask her about her best decision, she immediately responds: “Going to chiropractic school.”

One of these days, Terre York says she will make it to see the Terracotta Army and the Great Wall of China, even though she doesn’t like long flights. But for now, she is content guiding her children through the pandemic and helping her clients live better, healthier lives.

No matter what, Terre York will continue to be her own person.

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

Rancho Mirage’s Rupert Macnee has a story that could easily be the subject of one of his documentary films.

Macnee, 73, was born and raised in London. He went off to boarding school at 13, thanks to a generous godmother, and found his way to Princeton University, where he earned a degree in public and international affairs—before heading into a career as a freelance documentary filmmaker. (Full disclosure: I have had a personal relationship with Rupert Macnee for nine years.)

But his backstory includes him feeling abandoned by his actor father, Patrick, who became famous after playing secret agent John Steed in the British television series The Avengers; hiding with his mother and younger sister from knocks on the door demanding rent; learning from his way-ahead-of-her-time lesbian godmother how to write proper letters, as well as fish, shoot and behave like a proper gentleman; and desiring to make films, starting when he and a friend made historical dramas complete with swordfights at the age of 14.

“My mom had been illegitimate, as had her mother before her, and had always felt like an outsider, growing up in foster homes,” Macnee says. “She was an actor by training and had met my father that way, but gave that up when my younger sister was born. My mother was ambitious for me, hoping I might become a doctor, and focused on my being educated and going to university. We never had enough money, and we moved around a lot, but she was always there for us and fiercely defended us.

“My father left and moved to Canada to get on television there and in the U.S. when I was just 4, and didn’t really return until I was almost 13 and heading off to boarding school. He and my mother had met in drama school and had toured together for a while, but they divorced while he was gone. His advice to me was to always be prepared to cut the ground from under your own feet—which may explain why I spent most of my career as a freelancer.

“I was attracted to being in the same business as him, but not as an actor. My whole life, I’ve been around people in the business. I’m used to that world.”

At 18, after boarding school, Macnee took a gap year and worked as an intern in film and television in London.

“My stepfather had been to college at Berkeley, and I thought it would be exciting to go to the ‘new world,’ so I went to the American Embassy in London and applied to universities including Harvard, Yale, Columbia and Princeton. I wanted to study sociology, because I thought it would be interesting to have that perspective as a filmmaker. Princeton wanted me, and while there, I made several films, did a disc-jockey show, and even got a grant from the Ford Foundation to establish a filmmaking class in the Creative Arts Department. Almost everyone in our initial group went on to a career in film and television.

“After Princeton, I went to CTV in Toronto. I was a researcher for a 30-episode half-hour series about animal wildlife, and about a year and a half later, I went to Los Angeles as a film editor. Editing is time-consuming, and you spend a lot of time by yourself. That’s been a large part of my professional life.

“In 1971, I visited my uncle in Ecuador and worked at a radio station in Quito, doing a daily music show. That was one of the best decisions in my life—getting an appreciation for a world beyond Europe and North America, seeing people who had literally come out of the jungles. I came back to L.A. and worked on a film about drugs with a group of former UCLA students I had met in 1968, when I had taken a TV-production course there. I moved to England in 1972, and then back to Toronto in 1973 to work as producer of 100 30-minute films for syndication—50 of them hosted by Glenn Ford and 50 hosted by Jonathan Winters. In 1980, I again worked with Winters in L.A. on a pilot.”

Macnee’s career also includes producing 50 hours of An Evening at the Improv; a stint at NBC in their promotions and marketing department; working on a documentary comedy about diabetes that shipped 1.2 million units to benefit the American Diabetes Association; and jobs in Seattle and Lincoln, Neb., with PBS stations. He also wrote and produced several scripts throughout the 1990s, including work related to Kawasaki disease, including a film in 2006 in India.

“My mother would say I was fulfilling her desire for me to be a doctor!” Macnee says. “… I’ve been lucky to have traveled all over the world in the course of my work—Thailand, South America, England, Scotland, Germany and every state in the U.S. Two places I’ve never been that I’d love to see are Italy and Uruguay.”

Macnee has kept journals all his life, going back to the “R. Macnee Weekly” he “published” at age 11. While at Princeton, he studied history, because he remembered learning to think like a historian at boarding school.

“I crammed at 4 a.m. every day for a year, and realized I was not just learning about things that had happened, but learning how to understand the things that had happened,” he says.

Macnee has been going through those journals and boxes full of memories during the pandemic, and he’s come across many drawings he’s done throughout his life, including original Christmas cards he’s sent out each year since 1977.

“Growing up without a TV meant I had to find my own fun,” Macnee says. “I’ve always done writing and drawing, and discovered so many things I didn’t even remember doing. I’ve scanned about 50 years’ worth of drawings into my computer, and started sending them out to friends every morning. Suddenly, I’ve found myself with a new persona as an artist. I also did the illustrations for a book a life-long friend, Richard Heller, published about his experience during the pandemic.”

Much of Macnee’s family ended up in the Coachella Valley. His mother lived in Palm Desert and Rancho Mirage until her death in 2012. Macnee left his home in Vancouver, British Columbia, in 2010 to come and help his sister care for their father, who had been diagnosed with dementia in 2003, and who died in 2015.

“Once I was living here, I decided to get an master’s in career and technical education at Cal State, hoping to teach video production for use in training and marketing,” he says.

Growing up with a famous parent can be particularly challenging, Macnee says. “I remember clearly deciding at about age 8 that I never wanted to have children. I didn’t want them to go through what I had gone through, feeling abandoned. Yet one of my best memories is when, at 11, I got to fly from London to Los Angeles and spent five weeks with my dad, complete with hamburgers, surfing and walking on the beach. It made me want to be where you could be, whatever you wanted to be.

“He taught me that every job will have an ending—and I’ve learned that every ending can be a new beginning.”

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

Steve Stockton says that his best decision in life was getting married and having a family. However, his work as an optician—which allows him to change people’s lives by giving them the ability to see clearly—is just as important.

Stockton, 59 and a Palm Desert resident for the past year, works for OneSight, a nonprofit organization “committed to eradicating the global vision care crisis in our lifetime.” According to the organization’s website, OneSight has helped more than 9 million people in 46 countries since 1998.

“I was in Costa Rica,” Stockton says, “and went back there after 10 years for the anniversary of our OneSight program there. I saw a woman I had helped on that earlier trip, and she still had the same pair of glasses that had transformed her ability to see. For a little boy from Ogden, Utah, to be able to make that difference, around the world, is the proudest accomplishment in my life.”

Stockton was raised in Ogden and Kaysville, Utah. “My mom was the light of our family,” Stockton says. “She was an incredible woman, the person who brought our family together. I was always able to go to her and tell her anything. She would just hug and love us, no matter what. Her message was, ‘There’s no one better than you are.’

“Mom was a third-generation Mexican American, whose father was a very religious man. He would sit down and preach the gospel to us in Spanish. I do believe in a higher being, and what I hope for is one day to be able to see my mother again.

“Mom and my birth father got divorced. She remarried when I was about 10, and my ‘dad’ adopted my older brother and myself. (Stockton also has a younger brother and a sister.) He was a really good role model for us. He, my mom and dad all had a friendly relationship.”

After graduating from high school, Stockton attended college in Ogden, but then moved to Colorado to study to become an optician—a professional who measures patients’ eyes for vision aids, makes eyeglass adjustments, and educates patients about eyewear. He was licensed by the time he was 23.

“I had originally intended to major in psychology, but I had a friend who was studying nursing and encouraged me to consider becoming an optician,” he says. “Funny, I had always loved drawing eyes. Once I completed my studies, I fell in love with the job—working directly with people and helping them see better.”

Stockton’s first job was with an optical company in Denver, and he is still in contact with friends he made during that time. Stockton later began working with LensCrafters and soon became a general manager. In 1988, the company started collecting used eyeglasses with the idea of giving them to children who couldn’t afford them. That ultimately led to the formation of OneSight, which is now an independent nonprofit.

In 1997, mobile eye clinics were being put together, and Stockton became a clinic manager, leading the expansion of clinics around the world.

“I originally drove a van around the U.S., Canada and Mexico,” he says. “To help people be able to see, cook, sew and read—it’s wonderful to have had that opportunity. In 2018, I became program manager with OneSight.”

The organization’s mission is to bring eye exams and glasses to people who lack access to vision care. They see more than 3,500 patients every week, at mobile clinics all over the world.

“We do comprehensive eye exams at the clinics,” Stockton says. “We have up to 15 optometrists, and a team of about 50 from all over the world. We do eye exams and make glasses right onsite.”

What brought Stockton to Palm Desert? “My husband, Danny, is a teacher. We had been living in Arizona, but salaries for teachers are much higher in California, and we liked the desert. My job is mobile, so I just need to be near an airport.

“We have an incredible daughter, Kylie, 26, from Danny’s first marriage, who is engaged to be married next year. Kylie was 5 when Danny and I got together, and we raised her up until her high school graduation. I’m looking forward to being a grandfather one of these days!”

What’s something others might not know about him? “One thing I really love to do is draw—animals, people, eyeballs,” he says with a laugh. “I work in colored pencils and charcoal, and I’m always doodling.”

Stockton loves to travel, and obviously travels a lot for his job. “Danny and I went to Thailand along with his mother, and I was able to give them the experience I’d had when I was doing clinics,” he says. “They got to see what I’ve seen—meeting people and forming relationships.

“We do clinics through the Fresh Air Fund at summer camps and see about 2,600 kids in four weeks.”

The people who work for OneSight believe that when the world sees better, the world lives better—and Steve Stockton has definitely made the world a better place by helping other people see clearly.

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

When we patronize a service business, if the person with whom we interact is polite, pleasant, personable and a true professional—it makes a huge difference.

That describes Desert Hot Springs resident Randy Ralke, who holds down the fort at Post’n Ship in Rancho Mirage.

Although he’s originally from Minneapolis, Ralke describes himself as a true “valley boy.” He moved to the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles with his mom and three siblings after his parents divorced.

“My mom had a friend,” he recalls, “who had moved out a year earlier, after her husband had gone to a retreat of some kind, had a heart attack and died. She encouraged my mom to make the move.”

Ralke is a natural redhead, which got him bullied as a kid.

“I was always seen as different,” he says. “Kids would use lots of nicknames, and it hurt. But it’s also what made me become funny as a way to cope. Plus, it was an advantage at an amusement park—my parents couldn’t lose me!”

After high school, Ralke attended Pierce College.

“I was kind of a professional musician,” he says. “I played drums and percussion, and I admit I was too young at college. I had great fun, but I never graduated. I did work at music stores for many years. In fact, there’s one in Reseda called Kaye’s Music Scene, where I worked for a long time, and it’s still there. I actually started working at about age 8 or 9 with three different paper routes. It meant I always had money in my pocket.

“Of course, if I could have had my dream job, I would have been a professional baseball player. I did play Little League for a while. I was the catcher; I now know that’s why my knees are bad. Actually, my prize possession is a signed baseball my dad gave me from the Minnesota Twins. … Harmon Killebrew’s signature is on it, but it doesn’t have Rod Carew’s, because he was involved in finding a bone-marrow donor for his daughter and wasn’t there that day. I’ll leave that baseball to my son, or a grandson if I get one.”

Ralke’s son, William, 30 and an Iowa resident, was named after Ralke’s father.

“My son was lucky: He didn’t get the red hair,” jokes Ralke. “But he did marry a redhead, and his daughter, my amazing granddaughter, Trinity Rose, is a redhead. (My ex-wife and I) weren’t sure we would be able to have a child, and having my son was the best decision ever, even though the marriage didn’t last.

“My dad and his brother were in their father’s pharmacy business, but after (their father) died, they didn’t really want to be in that business. My dad ended up running a car dealership. Unfortunately, he had an alcohol problem, and my folks divorced.

“I was very close to my mom. She was a pretty funny person, and I think that’s where I got my sense of humor. Friends have suggested I should pursue doing comedy, and I’ve always wanted to write as well, but I’ve always gotten into other things. We lost my mom two years ago at age 89; I took care of her for the last nine years of her life when she increasingly fell to dementia. I’ve always been diligent about handling things, and it’s been a difficult adjustment for me after all those years of caring for her. I’m still not quite back on track.”

Ralke moved to the Coachella Valley from Los Angeles about a year and a half ago, after a brief stint in Florida working with his sister after their mom’s death. (“I hated the Florida weather!”) He’s been the guy behind the counter running Post’n Ship, and he’s a lifeline for customers who have mailboxes, receive packages, buy stamps, get faxes, make copies, or want to purchase cards, gift items or even fine linens.

“We ship things all over the world,” says Ralke, “and I have customers who will, for example, buy a box to pack clothing to donate to needy children in Nigeria. A lot of the people in this area are older and need some extra attention, and sometimes it requires a lot of patience. I’ve also gotten to know the postal workers and delivery people and really appreciate what they do and how hard they work.”

What does Randy Ralke do for fun? He likes mystery stories, listens to ’70s and ’80s rock, and is a science-fiction movie-lover. His face lights up as he recalls, as a kid, waiting 10 hours in line at the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood to see Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.

“Fast forward to when I took my son to the opening of Star Wars: Episode I. I took him out of school, and we spent the day in Westwood and finally got to see it that same day.”

One of the things on Ralke’s bucket list is travel. “My oldest brother has traveled quite a lot, and that’s what I’d like to do. I’d love to go to Europe; our family has German and Czech roots. I would also like to play music again sometime. Plus, I think it would surprise people to know I think I have a really good voice. I used to do backup with the singers I worked with, but I’ve never recorded.”

Too many people take service employees for granted—but Ralke is proof that they can often become a light in a customer’s day.

“I think what makes me who I am is that I do have humor and personality,” Ralke says. “I try to make things better and smoother for anyone who comes in. It’s sometimes a challenge to make people laugh, but it’s always worth it to me.”

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

Shirley and Terry LeMaster were seemingly destined to find each other—even though they took different paths for much of their lives.

Terry, 77, is originally from Morgantown, W.Va., but moved around a lot. His father worked at a gunpowder plant during World War II.

“I was raised by my grandparents some of the time, in Orange, Texas,” says Terry. “My dad was a quiet, reserved man who was not emotional at all, but he was very warm-hearted and had a smile that would light up the room. My sister died of leukemia when I was about 9 or 10, so I was pretty much raised as if I were an only child. I remember that I once saw my father cry, and that gave me permission to be emotional.

“My mom was something of an anomaly. She was college-educated and had always wanted to be a doctor, but women weren’t really able to back then, so she was a retail sales clerk when they got married. She’s the reason I originally studied to become a doctor. She wasn’t the warmest person, but if it was a ‘duty,’ she would do it. She had a real sense of responsibility to others.”

Terry attended Duke University, studying biology, and became ill due to a lacerated esophagus during his second year.

“I couldn’t eat and dropped all my weight,” he says. "The dean took me into his own home; his wife took care of me. I didn’t recover until the following spring. I got a construction job, went to summer school, and finally got my degree in biology and chemistry at Austin College in Texas. I entered medical school at the University of Texas Southwestern (Medical Center), located at Parkland Hospital in Dallas, where President Kennedy had been treated when he was killed. I was actually interviewed by the surgeon who had worked on Kennedy.

“A doctor there took me under his wing and said, ‘I want you to follow me around for two weeks this summer.’ We were in a small town of about 20,000 people, and I ended up working about 80 hours a week. I came to realize that medicine, as a profession, was your life—and I wanted a different life than that. My father’s advice to me was, ‘They can’t pay you enough to be unhappy.’

“With my double major, I knew I could go to work in the chemical industry or in the food industry. I chose the food industry, because even if I didn’t make as much money, I didn’t want to sit in a lab and run tests all day. In the food industry, I got broad experience and ended up in quality control.”

Terry married and had two children. His first-born died when Terry was only 22. “That tends to grow you up really fast,” he says, somberly.

Shirley was born in Centreville, Miss., and raised in Memphis, Tenn., with an older sister and two younger brothers. “My mom was a registered nurse but stayed home until after I went off to college,” she says. “She taught me about unconditional love—such a gift.

“My dad was a management analyst for the (Army) Corps of Engineers in Memphis, and he was also a lay minister with a very fundamentalist church. In spite of the church’s teachings about the appropriate role for women – they couldn’t even speak in the church—he always supported my sister and me to be anything we wanted to be. He really taught me about feminism!”

After getting a degree in speech and English, and then a master’s degree from Oklahoma State University, Shirley went to law school at University of Texas at Austin—but after two years, she realized she didn’t want to be an attorney.

“My first job was doing equal-opportunity investigations in New York,” she says, “and went on to become manager of employment at State University of New York at Buffalo. Then I moved to New Orleans to get married.”

Shirley and her then-husband, a drummer who had played with Dizzy Gillespie and was a news anchor, adopted a son, Joshua. Meanwhile, she became a labor-relations and human-resources manager with Hunt-Wesson.

“I went on to become a regional HR manager, and after 10 years, finally was back in Memphis as regional labor-relations and HR manager, negotiating with unions,” she says.

Here’s where their paths intersect: Terry was with Hunt-Wesson as a food scientist in California. In 1994, he was asked to be the team leader of a project in which Shirley was participating.

“He knew how to get us to a final result as the team leader,” Shirley says, “and we met for a week each month around the country. He was being transferred to Ohio for a huge project—and I was going to California, and I asked if he had a house he could sell me. He did, and I bought it.

“We went out to dinner a month later and then started dating, between Ohio and California. We dated for about a year, got engaged, and finally married 24 years ago. If I’d known he would come with the house, I’d have paid more for it!”

When Shirley’s company moved her back to California, Terry took early retirement.

“I thought I’d just play golf,” Terry says with a laugh.

Terry loved the desert, but Shirley was not as impressed. “Everything was so sandy,” she says. “He said he thought we needed to look at other places, and because he didn’t try to push me, a month later, I suggested we try visiting the desert again. Now I wouldn’t even consider living anywhere else.”

They settled in Rancho Mirage in 1998. Shirley had become a Unitarian in Memphis, and she credits the church with helping her get through the death of her son, Joshua, in 2006.

“I got very involved with the local church in Rancho Mirage,” Shirley says. “I’ve been on the board and in leadership roles for over nine years. It’s a place with smart, open-minded people.”

The church sponsors a staged-reading theater group, with which Shirley—who has been acting since high school—has become an often-featured actor. Terry, who began supporting Shirley’s love of theater by working with sets and lighting, has enjoyed being cast in several roles, often opposite Shirley onstage.

Both Terry and Shirley say that their relationship works because they have common values, enjoy each other’s company, and have fun together. In fact, Shirley says the best decision of her life was marrying Terry.

“Joshua once gave Terry a birthday card that showed a man’s large footprints next to a boy’s small ones, and inside he had written, ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to my mother,’” she says.

For Terry, sometimes bad decisions became blessings: “I always learn from it, and without some of those decisions I wouldn’t be who I am.”

Their paths, however unrelated they once were, are happily connected now—as if it were destiny.

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

They work together, act together, cook together and laugh together. Dori and Rupert Smith are an example of how committed couples can inspire and support each other to become the best they can be, both individually and as a couple.

Dori, currently president of Democrats of the Desert, was born 70 years ago in Madera, Calif., before being raised in Virginia. She was born second in a family that includes two sisters and a brother. “My mom grew up typically Italian in New York,” she says, “and I would describe her as ebullient: She loved to dance and was a lot of fun, but she also was the one who helped to unionize the tool-and-die company where she worked when we were kids. My dad was a hard-working man who just wasn’t around a lot.

“I was once told that the second-oldest always gets into trouble, and I certainly did. I got pregnant and married very young, but then I finished high school. I waited 10 years before deciding to go back to college, majoring in journalism at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, and had worked up until then in the public-affairs department at GTE. After I finished my degree, I came back as a mid-level manager.”

Rupert, 73, was born and raised in Arcadia, Fla. “I was an only child,” he says, “with a pessimistic, introvert mother who was married to an optimistic, extrovert father. I don’t remember my mom ever being overtly happy. She saw the world as black and white, and I had to learn that isn’t true. Somehow, they made me into an idealist who looks for the good in other people. Of course, taken to an extreme, that can be a problem, but I start from a position of trust with everyone.”

Rupert also studied journalism in college, at the University of Florida. He also spent some time in the Army (“They put me in the information office for a while”) and then went into public relations and marketing at GTE.

“They saw my Army experience—and I ended up there for 24 years,” he said.

Dori and Rupert met while working with GTE-Southeast in Durham, N.C. With a clear note of pride, Rupert describes Dori as having been hired as a secretary, but being ambitious enough to go back to school and get her degree so she could come back to the company in management. Rupert was the youngest vice president in the company’s history at that time, and at one point was moved to Connecticut. Dori had taken a job in Indiana after her divorce.

“We finally got tired of flying back and forth, and moved in together in Connecticut in 1987,” says Rupert.

Rupert’s first marriage of 15 years had produced two sons; Dori’s first marriage of 18 years had produced a son and daughter. “We moved in together in 1987 and married in 1994, and we all have a good relationship,” says Rupert.

What makes it work? “He’s patient, kind and generous,” says Dori. “He always encourages me in everything I want to do, and helps me with whatever it takes.”

Says Rupert: “I let her do whatever she wants, and she’s the same with me. If you start thinking about changing the other person, you’re ultimately doomed. I think about a relationship as a three-legged stool: trust, respect and a common sense of humor—the ability to laugh at the same things. I still smile whenever Dori enters a room.”

The Smiths have been Palm Desert residents for 21 years. They began working together locally doing public relations, primarily for local theatrical groups, and both have become involved in local theater themselves. Rupert originally got involved in acting while in Connecticut.

“I needed something that would fit my creative side. I was told to try acting and got involved with a Wilton playhouse. I tried out and got the part, and it wasn’t difficult, because I had done so much public speaking in my job.”

Working with Script to Stage to Screen (S2S2S), both Rupert and Dori have starred in and been nominated for awards in staged readings. During the pandemic, when nothing is being staged for audiences, Rupert has been writing and producing video works for S2S2S that are available online.

For Dori, she started acting when Gina Bikales, the head of S2S2S, asked her to read a part. “I thought it would be fun to do something onstage with Rupert,” she says.

Both have also helped the theater company with website design, public relations and marketing.

“Dori can’t sit still,” says Rupert. “She has to be doing multiple things at the same time.”

Says Dori: “I am always extremely busy. I started the Executive Women’s Golf Association, and that’s how I met women friends when we came to the desert. I also started Moms Demand Action here in the Coachella Valley in response to the gun violence against children across the country.

Dori attributes her current position as president of Democrats of the Desert (DOD) to something her mom said. “When I was a kid, I remember my mom always said, ‘Vote! Vote the whole Democratic ticket! Vote! Vote! Vote!’ I heard about a meeting of Democratic Women of the Desert and started getting involved. I worked to elect Congressman Raul Ruiz, and worked on Barack Obama’s campaign. When I joined DOD, I realized I’d like to lead the organization. I have a terrific board, and we’re holding Zoom meetings and social events. It’s a real challenge to keep people involved with all we’re going through right now.”

Dori had tap-dancing on her bucket list, so she took lessons and is now dancing with her group, including getting a spot in the McCallum Theatre’s Open Call. “But I try to relax, take a nap daily and read,” she says. “I do have a deep need to stay busy. I wish I still had the energy I had 10 years ago.”

Did I mention the cooking? Dori is constantly posting pictures of the beautiful meals Rupert prepares, and together, they make scrumptious pies.

Rupert’s advice to his younger self? “Don’t sweat the small stuff … and it’s all small stuff.”

Dori’s? “Slow down. Enjoy every minute.”

Dori and Rupert Smith are an example of how a committed couple can inspire and support each other—and, in the process, inspire us all.

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

One of the most interesting cases Megan Beaman Jacinto has handled as a civil rights attorney involved a class of farmworkers. About 70 percent of the 60 workers in the crew were female—and in need of protection from gender discrimination.

“One day, about 32 showed up at my office,” she says, “and I ended up with 42 clients in a suit for discrimination. Their supervisor was always on them about what tasks they could perform and (wanted) to bring more men into the crew, and if they didn’t, then they were terminated. This is common for farmworkers. I sued for discrimination, and it took until we were readying for trial for a settlement to finally get done. It had taken four to five years. This is one of the cases I’m most passionate about.”

Beaman Jacinto grew up poor in rural Iowa.

“Where I came from,” she says, “it was about 99 percent white, and yet there was evidence of a lot of racism. It was about when I was in middle school that I realized it just wasn’t right to treat or speak about people by making those kind of comments or jokes. A passion developed in me in opposition to racism. I became ostracized—but that motivated me.”

Beaman Jacinto, 38, the oldest of four siblings, was influenced to pursue education by her parents.

“My dad was a factory worker, and my mom was a homemaker until she began working after I graduated high school,” Beaman Jacinto said. “They also maintained a very small family farm with about 30 cattle. They really emphasized the importance of education. Our rural schools were typically underachieving, and I finished all regular classes by the 10th-grade. My mom found other opportunities for us to learn.

“I always knew she would be there for us. It’s a type of advocacy that’s reflected in the way I stand up for others. And there was always an emphasis on treating other people the way you want to be treated.”

After high school, Beaman Jacinto majored in sociology at Grinnell College. “I wanted to better understand where racism comes from, and my responsibility as a white person,” she recalls. “At that point, I had no professional role models.”

Beaman Jacinto finally found a mentor in an American-studies professor who had been a Black Panther and had managed a group of civil rights lawyers who fought against racism. “It was like a light bulb went off,” she says. “I thought that potentially, I could make a difference.”

Before law school, Beaman Jacinto spent some time in San Francisco (“I was a waitress,” she laughs) and Chicago, where she went into an urban-studies program.

While studying law at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Beaman Jacinto says she realized she had the drive to help others. “I worked in student clinics, and I always strove to make the greatest impact. My goal was to find meaningful work, so I applied all over the country, with private law firms and nonprofits. I got an offer from California Rural Legal Assistance (CRLA) and came to Coachella 12 years ago. It was my first job out of law school, and the great bulk of the work was representing farmworkers.

Beaman Jacinto worked with CRLA for four years before setting out to build a private practice. “CRLA was federally funded, so I couldn’t represent undocumented individuals or take on class actions,” she says. “I decided the time had come to grow. I had the choice to either leave CRLA for another nonprofit out of the valley or start my own practice here. It was scary at first, but (starting my own practice) would give me independence and room to grow. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Going out on my own, I overcame fear, and I was able to grow and value myself in addition to providing service to people who need help.”

Beaman Jacinto was elected to the Coachella City Council two years ago.

“From the time I came to Coachella, I’ve always tried to build relationships,” she says. “I value the importance of community, and I value the opportunity to serve. I see myself as a community advocate, but I had never seen politics as a goal for myself. There were many factors that came to play in my decision to run for Coachella City Council, including that women are underrepresented. I am driven to ensure that all voices are at the table when decisions are being made, about things like access to water and housing.” Beaman Jacinto is also adamant about helping develop other leaders within the community.

With a husband and two small children, how has Beaman Jacinto managed to get through the pandemic?

“It’s an ongoing process of adjustment,” she says. “I’m able to continue working and providing income, and working from home has given me so much more family bonding time. We all just have to keep the anxiety at bay.”

Does Beaman Jacinto have any talents that might surprise those who know her? “I have to admit I’m pretty good at cooking, although my clients are always surprised that a lawyer can cook,” she says. “And I’m fully bilingual, which is a real help in what I do. I’m also in the Iowa softball pitchers’ hall of fame!”

After coming from such a humble beginning, Megan Beaman Jacinto has established herself as someone who cares about her community and the people she represents.

“If I had to give advice to my younger self,” she says, “I would paraphrase something Michelle Obama once said—that I see all these men making decisions and having a seat at the table, and then I realize they aren’t all that smart. I would say, ‘Don’t be afraid. You’re just as capable as anyone else.’”

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

Elder-law attorney Michael “Mick” McGuire, 73, says he keeps trying to find a way to retire. “But when the pandemic hit, that went on the back burner.”

McGuire, a La Quinta resident for seven years, used to visit the desert from Long Beach—until his wife of 30 years, Vivien, a public defender, made him to decide to relocate.

McGuire was born and raised in Pittsburgh, and his birth family included grandparents who had emigrated from Ireland. They had four daughters and were scrounging for work during the Great Depression. “My grandfather died in his 30s, and my grandmother was one of those people you’re blessed to have in your life. She cleaned houses to support her daughters.

“My mom had no education past the ninth-grade, and they were always one step ahead of the landlord. My mom always used to say, ‘If things aren’t going your way, just get on with it. If one thing doesn’t work, do something else.’

“My dad was a true Pittsburgh boy. He came along at a time when they were letting guys out of high school to go to war. He was in the Army Air Corps, and then he took a correspondence course at Cornell University. He worked in the restaurant business and became a regional manager.

“I have one sister. I always joke that we’re 'Irish twins'; our birthdays are so close. Once we were out of high school, my folks couldn’t wait to get out of the dire winters of Pittsburgh, so after my freshman year of college, we moved to Arizona.”

McGuire (www.calelderlaw.com) got his education at Arizona State University. After a year in the Army Reserve, McGuire’s first job was with Hallmark Cards in Seattle. He relocated to Los Angeles in 1970 and worked for companies including Xerox, E.F. Hutton, and Home Savings. What made him decide to go back to school and study law?

“I was dealing with real estate agents all day long,” he says, “and I had met my wife, who was in law school at the time. In 1991, I studied at the University of West Los Angeles, and passed the bar on my first try!”

McGuire opened his first law office in Long Beach, doing estate planning, wills and trusts. “I had a client who was having real problems with his elderly mom, and thus I discovered elder law as a specialty,” says McGuire. “I realized the need for people to be able to deal with the Medi-Cal system and Veterans (Affairs).

“The best part of what I do is being able to listen to people’s stories. I had a client who had been in a small village in France during World War II at the age of 16 when the Germans had come. He was stopped by two Gestapo officers, was arrested, and he ended up in a concentration camp. He survived and went to Canada, then came to the U.S. He had told his family that he had been in the war, but his daughters had never heard the full story. When they asked him why he had never told them, he said, ‘I didn’t want you to worry.’

“I had another client who had been a submarine commander during World War II and didn’t realize he had benefits available. You can’t make these stories up—they’re amazing!”

McGuire gets particularly emotive when we talk about the COVID-19 pandemic—and particularly its impact on elders in nursing-home situations.

“The state drives people to long-term care, because there’s nowhere else to go,” he says. “It’s all corporate money now, and they’re driven by profitability. They say, ‘It’s all about heads in the beds.’ People get three meals a day, and poor care—and what we’ve seen over the past months of the pandemic shows how bad it is. It’s a terrible conundrum: You have someone who makes about $12.50 an hour to change people’s diapers and wipe their chin. Those willing to do those jobs are often the migrants at the border.

“We have a glaring hole in Medicare for taking care of seniors when they need help. The Affordable Care Act created a plan to pay up to $1,500 a month for long-term care. On average, decent care costs $10,000 a month for a nursing home in California. Long-term care is expensive, but in my experience, it probably only costs an average family about $1,500 to $2,500 a month to keep someone at home. I’ve never met anybody ever who wanted to go to a nursing home.

“It should be a red flag that out of all the developed countries in the world, we’re (the only one) without a plan. We can talk about it all academically, but when it’s your family member, the whole thing changes. The counties are often ignorant of the actual regulations, and how people are being treated is ridiculous. I’ve become very aggressive and insistent to benefit my clients.”

In 2014, McGuire handled what he described as his most interesting case. Los Angeles County had denied long-term benefits to a man taken to a nursing home as a qualified patient. “It took a year to bring the county to the table. I came to understand how badly the system is stacked against the public interest. You walk away from these experiences and realize that for every one who gets representation—how many are left to their own devices, meeting obstacles at every turn?”

McGuire and his wife are very proud of their family, including son Sean (“He works in the office with me, handling veterans’ cases”) and twin grandchildren. (“She’s at MIT, and he’s at Berkeley,” beams the proud grandpa.)

McGuire’s latest venture is a radio program, Elder Answers, airing every Saturday from 10 to 11 a.m. on KNEWS 94.3 FM/970 AM. McGuire describes the show as an opportunity to start a conversation, and he looks forward to, when the pandemic is over, again presenting workshops where people can talk on a more personal level.

“Throughout life, no matter the situation, you’re well-advised to exercise patience and introspection before you react,” McGuire says. “I’ve failed to follow that many times and paid a price for sure. When I’ve done it, it’s always paid off.”

Anita Rufus is also known as “The Lovable Liberal.” Her show The Lovable Liberal airs on IHubRadio. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.. Know Your Neighbors appears every other Wednesday.

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