I never know what kind of call it’s going to be when I pick up my phone in the newsroom. Often it’s a story tip. Other times it’s feedback on a story.



But the call I received Thursday afternoon wasn’t anything I expected — or wanted — to hear in our town. The woman was obviously upset and it took her a while to express the reason for her call. When she eventually did, I had to ask her to repeat it.



“I said, there’s a large sign on Highway 101 just north of town, and it says...” she hesitated for the second time before asking me to excuse the language she was about to use.



When I asked if I could have her name, she declined, telling me she was afraid of the kind of people who put the sign there.



“I don’t want to get shot or beaten up,” she said. “I just thought you should know.”



She hung up.



I took the short drive north on Highway 101 and immediately spotted the sign, written in black marker on the surface of a large piece of white, pressboard shelving which read:



F.U.!

N_ _ _ ERS

F_ _ _ OTS

B_ _ CHES!



I stared at it leaning there against a power pole and facing the highway, like a sandwich board offering a list of daily specials made from soured ingredients of hate.



I snapped a photo and then took the sign down, deciding as a taxpayer that since it was on public property, this individual had enjoyed enough free speech on my dime.



I currently have it at my office if they’d like to come get it. It will remain here until Monday, after which it will be gone much like the eclipse.



It’s hard to say whether this type of blatant hatred toward others is becoming more prevalent as a result of the current climate of our nation, or whether it’s simply a matter of the vocal minority feeling more emboldened by what they feel is a mandate to hate supported by the selectively ambiguous words of our President.



It was our own country’s ambiguousness during the early stages of World War II that played a role in allowing the Nazi war machine to reach full throttle before we accelerated and overtook them — but not before millions of civilians were systematically killed due to hate.



And let me say, had the sign read any differently in regard to hating any other groups, racial slurs or religion affiliations, it would have just as quickly made the trip to my office.



Hatred resides in seeds planted shallow in the soil of ambiguousness.



It grows like a weed; easy to spot and just as easy to pull from the ground. However, it also spreads quickly when allowed to, which is its only real means of survival.



To me, the sign I plucked from the highway was one of those weeds.



Ignore it and it will spread.



I hope you will join me in saying: Not in my town.





Write Siuslaw News editor Ned Hickson at [email protected] news.com or P.O. Box 10, Florence, Ore. 97439.