Troublesome Statistics Hit Close To Home

At 16, I had no experience with sex or death. I mourned for friends because they were grounded or their parents were divorcing. Sex was for girls with high hair, heavy makeup, short skirts and ripped nylons.

It was the 1970s in Los Angeles, not a particularly innocent time or place. Still, it seems much more innocent than the ‘90s.

My daughter is 16 now, a fresh-faced sophomore at Lake City High. Already her friends are making their marks on the state’s Vital Statistics Bureau.

Jason, the little boy next door who 13 years ago dressed as a cowboy to walk with my pioneer girls in the Rathdrum Days parade, drowned in 1993 at 18 in the Spokane River.

Wendy, the sweet blonde girl two houses down who practically lived with us the six years she and my daughter were best friends, is pregnant at 16, due any day.

David, the boy in eighth-grade creativity class who wrote Stephen Kinglike stories, was shot dead at 16 by a man distraught over his impending divorce.

John, the athletic boy in eighth-grade gym class, is dead at 16 from hypothermia.

On top of all that, my daughter was at Arby’s last summer when a man across the street shot himself to death in full view of the world.

I was heavily pregnant with her when my husband and I moved to North Idaho. Like other young couples, we thought we could shield our children from tragedy in an area with fewer people, more green spaces.

We were wrong. In small towns, everyone knows everyone. Every tragedy hits home.

But it’s more than that. Teenage pregnancy is an accepted fact of life now, and death happens everywhere. They are not things I can control by moving to the perfect community. There’s no such thing.

I know now that I can’t protect my daughter from grief. All I can do is hug her and ache with her and help her get on with life.

Poster Power

How much can you scrunch onto one sheet of paper? The Coeur d’Alene Association of Realtors will pay for equal opportunity posters that somehow include all races, religions, colors, national origins, sexes, handicaps and family types - step, gay, etc. Top finishers in four divisions - elementary, middle school, high school or adult - will win savings bonds.

Think small. The contest ends March 31. Call 667-0664 for details.

Love Talk

Most of us are taught not to read other people’s mail. But in “Love Letters,” the writers read their mail to you.

Cornelius Edmondson and Julie Nash will perform this romantic piece at Sandpoint’s Panida Theatre at 8 p.m. Thursday. Tickets are $6. Treat yourself - call 263-9191.

He’s So Boss

Bob Brown - make room on the pedestal for another great Bob. Judith Brower, North Idaho College math guru, says Bob Murray has a lock on the Best Boss title.

Bob heads NIC’s natural sciences division.

Judith says he makes things happen, is extremely open and “is just a nice guy to have lunch with.”

I’ll have to check on that - as long as he’s buying.

Are there any great bosses out there who aren’t named Bob?

And what about terrific jobs? I haven’t received any other nominees, so mine must win.

Keep those ideas coming to Cynthia Taggart, “Close to Home,” 608 Northwest Blvd., Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, 83814; fax to 765-7149; or call 765-7128.