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0 of 3 Premium Clicks used this month SUBSCRIBE Print + Online Subscriber Activation | Register x Forgot Password | Need an Account? subscribe | newsletter | deals Classifieds Jobs Autos Real Estate FEATURED » NEWS NOW Our View: All's well that ends well ... Jeffrey Gillespie: A landmark in the history of love ... Herb Rothschild Jr.: Duke, Roof and us ... Our View: All's well that ends well ... Jeffrey Gillespie: A landmark in the history of love ... Herb Rothschild Jr.: Duke, Roof and us ... ROGUES: TALES FROM THE VALLEY Episode 19: A call to a sister turns awkward Comment By Lyda Woods DailyTidings.com By Lyda Woods Posted Jan. 26, 2015 at 3:37 PM Updated Feb 3, 2015 at 4:17 PM By Lyda Woods Posted Jan. 26, 2015 at 3:37 PM Updated Feb 3, 2015 at 4:17 PM » Social News Episode 19 of the fictionalized adventures of two sisters, Sherry and Dawn, one Medford-bred, the other Ashland-loving, and their adventures across the Rogue Valley. Find prior chapters at www.dailytidings.com. Note: The name of the locale for the previous episode has been changed to reinforce that characters and events depicted here are fictionalized and not intended to accurately depict actual people and places. After recruiting protesters at the First Senior Center, True and I went our separate ways, he to have dinner with Valentina and I to work with Josh on a zombie head at his studio in Talent. When I got there, Josh was up on a ladder, adding pustules to the nose of an 8-foot zombie that had yellow eyes, drooling mouth and the word “Debt” carved into its decaying forehead. “How marvelously disgusting. It fits right in with that documentary I just saw, ‘Ivory Tower,’ ” I said, smiling up at Josh. “It needs a bit more purple,” said Josh, examining the face. “Did you know that the combined student debt in this country is over a trillion dollars?” “Wow. That’s scary. ” Josh climbed down from the ladder, and we drank coffee at his giant worktable, made from an old door. “You know, I don’t get the feeling that the Sirens would bomb houses. It just doesn’t jibe with their philosophy of peaceful protest, “ I said. “Did you find out who or what owns the places that were blown up?” Josh asked. “Blue said some German bank owned all three,” I said. “Who takes care of the properties locally?” Josh asked. “None of them were in good shape. I just visited another abandoned home in Talent that looks like someone shot a gun through the window. The roof was warped and moldy.” I said. “And I think a family of opossums is living there.” “Can the banks just leave them to rot like that? Don’t they have to take care of them?” Josh asked. “Good question. But if these banks are paying property managers, then they should fire them, don’t you think?” I said. “According to Zillow, there are about 130 bank-owned homes in the Rogue Valley but I think that number is low.” “Seems like there should be a list somewhere, maybe the county has one,” said Josh, mixing the most putrid purple paint I’ve ever seen. “I’ll try calling them.” This discussion was bringing back the heartbreaking nightmare of my foreclosure and my friends’ foreclosures. Maybe I should just let this whole thing drop. That would be the smarter way to live. Go along to get along. Just mind my own business. Dig down to unearth my instinct for conformity. “Talked with Sherry lately?” Josh asked. “She doesn’t return my calls. Have you?” I asked. “I ran into her at the Sunrise Café the other day. She was with Ray and they were arguing about something, so I kept my distance,” Josh reported. “I need my superpower back to solve this mess. I need to stop smoking again.” I put down my coffee and picked up a glue gun. “Yes you do.” Josh handed me some icky looking rubbery intestines. “Glue those to his mouth, would you?” “Let’s call her now.” I said, grabbing Josh’s cell phone and dialing. “Sharonaray Investments, Sherry Jones speaking.” Her tense voice was an octave higher than normal. “Hey Sherry, it’s Dawn. How are you?” “Dawn, sorry I haven’t called you back. Really busy.” No warmth in her tone. “What is going on with you? We miss you.” I asked, feeling a lump in my throat rising. “All I can say is that Ray and I are having a hard time. And I really wish you’d stop snooping around those abandoned homes, Dawn. It’s perverse. You’re gonna get hurt. I’ve gotta go.” She hung up on me. When I got home, another message of warning awaited me. Tied to the doorknob by its neck, was a stuffed dog, its eyes gouged out, its belly eviscerated and spattered with red ketchup. Murderous rage rose up in my chest like firecrackers under my skin. Nobody messes with Babycakes. Next week: Dawn follows her nose to a possible culprit and is surprised to see a possible family tie. By Lyda Woods DailyTidings.com By Lyda Woods Posted Jan. 26, 2015 at 3:37 PM Updated Feb 3, 2015 at 4:17 PM » Comment or view comments Reader Reaction » STAY INFORMED Email NewsLetter Sign Up Today Sign up for our newsletter and have the top headlines from your community delivered right to your inbox. Southern Oregon Directory Featured Businesses Loading... 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