Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, November 24, 1994 TAG: 9501180001
SECTION: NEIGHBORS PAGE: E11 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE:
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Dear Neighbors:
Recently, a Roanoke city police officer contacted me concerning a death in my immediate family. Due to the circumstances, I did not remember the officer's last name, but his first name was Gene. I would like to sincerely thank him for his professionalism and the compassionate and sympathetic way he handled the situation.
I am sure that the Police Department knows this officer's last name, and they should be extremely proud of this officer.
Thank you again, Gene, and God bless you.
Emma Stevens
Vinton
Dear Neighbors:
I would like to to recognize some city employees who go far beyond the call of duty. They are employees in the Roanoke city Fire Department.
They have helped my family with kindness, money and manpower. When my husband, Vernon, a fellow firefighter, was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, Lou Gehrig disease, his fellow firemen showed him, his family and the world that they really care about him. They not only help financially but also emotionally.
I feel that the Roanoke city firemen do not get enough credit for the wonderful things they do for the community. They actively support the Muscular Dystrophy Association and educate children on fire safety.
Though I do not know each fireman personally, I have met quite a few of Vernon's firemen buddies and have been quite impressed. I want to thank Willie Wines Sr., Kenny Campbell, Ronnie Cohran, David Trent and Ed Crawford, just to name a few. To all the firemen I did not name, you're on our minds and in our hearts.
We love each and every one of you.
Jeanette Barnard
Roanoke
Dear Neighbors:
I am writing in hope that you can help get a point across to people, mainly parents and children.
I am an owner of a Rottweiler. He is a very big dog, weighing approximately 180 pounds. I feel as if my Ru (that's his name) is just as much part of my family as my 12-year-old daughter.
I enjoy taking Ru with me out in public every chance I get. He has been to the Roanoke City Market, and he often accompanies me to the flea market, on a leash, of course.
People often ask, "Does your dog bite?" This is usually after they have stuck their face or hands right down to Ru's face.
The only reply I can give is, "He hasn't yet."
Come on, people! Get real! Although he is very well-behaved, and I feel I have done everything possible to make him a very sociable dog, he is an animal.
I have him for two reasons: companionship and protection.
I do not feel he was made to be kept on a chain or in a pen 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
I appreciate the compliments and admiration I get about him. All I ask is please have as much respect for my dog as I have for you and your children.
I will not let him jump on you or get in your face, but he is a very intimidating size and breed of dog.
I can't tell you he won't bite because, just like people have bad days, maybe dogs do, too. But I prefer a Rottweiler to a poodle. That's what makes this country great: Freedom of choice.
Rebecca Gibson
Roanoke
Dear Neighbors:
In the spring, our family worked hard preparing our garden plot, planting the seeds, and with great satisfaction and delight, watched as seedlings turned to vines, stalks and bushes. The harvest came quickly for radishes, lettuce and such. Later, we feasted on homegrown corn until the deluge of August came and knocked down the stalks.
The pride of our garden, however, was the last thing to be picked. The 55-pound pumpkin that we grew with our own hands. We never fed it, just watched it grow. When it finally pulled away from the vine, it took both my husband and I to roll it up the gentle slope from the garden to our front stoop.
Halloween night. It is gone. Stolen by the same kids who have likely stolen the last five we have had on the front stoop in as many years. I can't express my disappointment, when I began to close up for the night, having tossed candy into nearly 50 bags, pillow cases or Halloween buckets and found our wonderful pumpkin gone.
I suppose I should be thankful that it wasn't left to be smashed in the street. Drivers who make their way down my street should be thankful, too. The thing could have really wrecked a front-end alignment.
But I'm just angry and sad and mourning, actually. Mourning for the days of my childhood when Halloween was a special night that was not to be intruded upon by such a silly theft.
My children are sad and angry, too. But they can't mourn for the good ol' days. Stolen jack-o'-lanterns are all they have known. My angry ranting about stealing and poor morals are what they have heard each Halloween when we look out to find a simple pumpkin gone.
Good night, dear pumpkin, wherever you are ...
I sure do miss that pumpkin.
Carla A. Wakefield
Roanoke
by CNB