Sonya Lynne Stringer (Englis) passed away peacefully the morning of November 1, 2025. Born November 15, 1941 in Eureka, she lived in Humboldt County her entire life. She attended elementary and high school in Arcata.

Her freshman year of high school, she spotted Mike Stringer across the quad at lunchtime and told her girlfriend; I’m going to be going steady with him. They were married a week before she graduated from Arcata High School on June 06, 1959.

In 1961 they welcomed son Steve, followed by daughter Kris in 1963. They lived in Fortuna and Eureka. In 1981 they found their dream property on three acres out in Freshwater on the creek. Together they developed it into a paradise, spending every day off and vacation building fences, laying cement, landscaping and gardening. Both retiring from Safeway, in 1995 and 2000, they enjoyed a wonderful life there for the last 43 years.

Known by Sunny, she was nicknamed at a very early age because of her good nature and cheerful disposition; she always looked at the bright side of everything and could find something good in everyone. Her smile truly did light up a room, making everyone feel warm and welcome. She was kind, generous, fun, optimistic, selfless, accepting, resilient and forgiving. She had a spunky spirit, quiet strength and a true dedication to family. We all enjoyed her special way of storytelling. Sunny’s faith and belief in God were woven throughout her life in the way she lived and treated people. She was an extraordinary person who lived a remarkably humble and simple life. Sunny loved animals too, especially dogs. When she was five she took all her allowance, walked a few blocks to the pet store and brought home a puppy.

As a family, they enjoyed fishing, camping, cutting firewood up at the family property in Dinsmore, a historic trip to Disneyland in a motor home down the Monterey Coast and many family gatherings. She even tried golf once because Mike liked it so much ! She cherished every visit with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, especially Christmas time. She loved all the pictures and videos her grandchildren would often send of the great grandchildren. She was very proud of her grandchildren and valued their relationships. She loved sharing their latest accomplishments, pictures and videos with other family members and her closest friends. Sunny and her best friend since kindergarten, Rita Madison, enjoyed getting away together every couple of years to Reno or Las Vegas for a Girl’s Getaway. Rita and her family were part of the family. They remained close like sisters until their passing; only a week apart.

Mike and Sunny’s 70-year love story continued until the day she passed. The caption under Mike’s senior picture in the yearbook read : One Woman Man. His love and adoration for her was unceasing. The life they had together was nurtured by mutual respect, hard work, fun, family and love. During her short illness, she remained gracious, selfless and ever optimistic. After her last radiation treatment, the radiologist asked her if she wanted to ring the bell. She said No, not until it’s gone. She accepted Jesus a couple months before she passed away. We have peace and joy knowing she’s with God. We know she’s ringing that bell in Heaven !

She is survived by her husband Mike, of 66 years. Her sisters Llana and Gary Thompson, Lee Ann Wonnacott and brother Leonard and Ellen Wonnacott. Brothers-in-law Bill Stringer, Brian and Sue Stringer, sister in law Kathy Stringer, Her son Steve and Teresa Stringer, daughter Kris Pastori, grandchildren Cari and Braulio Escareno, Michael and Angela Sanders, Cory and Alex Sanders, Joe Stringer, Jessica and Ben Coombs, Jill Kelly, James and Hayley Pastori, great-grandchildren Damien Escareno, Anakin Stringer, Nicholas Sanders, Jackson, Callum, Joanna and Clarissa Coombs, Tayler and Jaina Stephens, Ashlynne and Teegan Kelly, Dawsyn, Rye and Lucy Pastori, and Aunt Nancy MacGowan.

She is preceded in death by her parents, Richard and Lyrle Englis; father- and mother-in-law Ross and Marguerite Stringer; brother-in-law Patrick Stringer; and best friend of 78 years, Rita Madison.

Sunny’s family would like to thank her entire wonderful medical care team, who cared for her tirelessly with affection, respect and excellence. Special thanks to her entire palliative team at Madrone Care and everyone at Hospice of Humboldt.

No services will be held. You are welcome to donate to Hospice of Humboldt in her memory or serve at a local animal shelter.

Before I ever got to Eureka I started out in journalism in a mill town — Sanford — in the state of Maine. My first editor was Norman “Red” McCann. When he hired me he said, “Let me tell you, the press is the last outpost in a republic. Once the bastards get control of the government, once they get the courts, there’s nothing left but the press. Believe me, boy, we’re democracy’s last line of defense. Are you ready to roll up your sleeves and go to work?”

Red paid the ultimate price for his idealism. When a new group bought the paper, they wanted him to kill a story that was embarrassing to a prominent family. He couldn’t oblige. For twenty years he had been honest with the public record, and for his fidelity to the First Amendment he was forced to retire.

As he descended the stairs on his last day. Red kept saying, “Time to haul in the flag. The last bastion of liberty has been breached.”

In disillusionment and looking to start afresh, I headed west and eventually wound up in Eureka.

The rough and tumble life of Eureka in those days was liberation for a soul tethered to Old Testament and Puritan principles. Eureka spelled freedom for an adventurous youth of twenty-four. With its whore houses, card rooms, gin mills, loggers, ranchers, vast forests and a waterfront teeming witb crabbers, trawlers and ocean-going freighters, Eureka seemed like a brave new world.

The Humboldt Times, where I worked, was a morning paper. Its sister publication, the Humboldt Standard, came out in the afternoon. Both were owned by the Eureka Newspapers, Inc., at 328 E Street, between Third and Fourth Streets, in a two-story building. Harriet’s, and all-night restaurant, was a few steps away. The Annex Bar was next door, a refuge for Times journalists after the paper was put to bed.

Hodge.

Almost everyone on the paper had an alibi for working there. Elmer L. Hodgkinson Jr., or Hodge, as we called him, had fled his native Oklahoma when a sheriff showed up at his father’s house with a warrant for Hodge’s arrest. He was wanted for child support. “Just a minute, I’ll see if he’s in,” said Hodge. He threw some an clothes into a suitcase and skipped out the back door.

Don O’Kane, the publisher, who came down from Portland, liked to say he hit Eureka with fifty cents in his pocket, but if he’d had another fifty cents he would have kept on going.

Jehanne Salinger, the society editor, came up from San Francisco to escape a rocky marriage. Jehanne’s son, Pierre Salinger, was a reporter with the San Francisco Chronicle. He was later the press secretary to President Kennedy and, for a time, President Johnson. And for a brief period Pierre was one of California’s U S. senators.

Only Andrew M. Genzoli had nothing to apologize for. A regional historian and prolific writer, he was a proud native of Ferndale. He gave of his vast learning liberally in his writings, and also in his advice to fledgling journalists like myself. Andy was the only one of us who was probably indispensable.

As a stringer for the AP, Hodge was always on the lookout for stories that the wire service might want to run. A local story that “made” the wires not only put Eureka on the map, it also put a few dollars in Hodge’s pocket.

A good example would be when Horace Heidt, the bandleader, came to town. When Heidt disembarked from his bus in Eureka after an adventurous ride from the Bay Area, the shaken musician suggested that tortuous 101 be renamed for Marilyn Monroe.

Hodge chuckled as he read my copy. Then he waved me over to his desk. An idea was coming to boil.

The next morning the Horace Heidt suggestion was the peg for a front page story accompanied by a picture of the curvaceous actress superimposed on a map of the Redwood Highway. Readers were told that we’d forwarded the idea to Miss Monroe and that we awaited her response — breathlessly.

She replied in a telegram a day or two later. “1 appreciate the humor in your story,” she said, “but I couldn’t go along with the Horace Heidt suggestion even in jest.”

Marilyn Monroe may have declined the honor but Hodge was not dismayed. The AP ran the Monroe story. It netted Hodge $5 or $10.

At this time — the mid-1950s — agents of the communist conspiracy were assumed to be everywhere: in federal, state and local governments; in towns large and small; in the house next door. The Reds were in the schools, contaminating the water, and in the churches. And the liberals were the usual suspects. In this fearful climate, another idea was percolating in Hodge’s head. I sensed it the moment he chuckled softly to himself and lit a cigarette.

“Boy!” he called out to me. “How many highway fatalities would you say we have every year? One a week, maybe more? High time to do something about highway safety.”

And with a few taps on the keyboard Hodge brought into being an organization of quasi-vigilantes called Drivers Alert. The headline screamed:

The article called upon motorists to report incidents of reckless driving as a backup to law enforcement. Hodge had struck a nerve. In a week we collected hundreds of dollars in membership fees. We took in more money in the following weeks.

“If the response keeps up this way,” said Hodge, “we’ll be in the running for a Pulitzer.”

But as Ernie Snowberger, our staff skeptic, observed, Hodge and I had turned a lot of nuts loose and now how were we going to get the genie back in the bottle?

Drivers Alert members were taking to the highways and streets and running after drivers — in some instances to settle scores with neighbors and people they didn’t like. The police, no fans of Hodge’s brainchild, were not amused. Worse, crusaders tramped up to the newsroom besieging Hodge and me with notions on how to bring wayward drivers to justice. We were spooked. Hodge and I were ink-stained wretches, not organizers. After a period of indecision, we recruited a committee of top people to take control of the movement.

But before we took the step Hodge, Ernie, Al Tostado, and I made good on all our IOUs to Drivers Alert. Frequently broke, especially before payday, we dipped into the sboebox where the Drivers Alert membership funds were kept. Our laissez-faire behavior was probably felonious (though we left IOUs behind) but consider: When you’ve worked till midnight and you’re as dry as a bone, and the bars close in two hours and you’re young and your heart’s on fire, you’ve got to make allowances.

Such was the philosophy Al and I espoused. And Ernie, too, though he was our conscience.

###

Although full-page Sunday features were popular with readers, the pieces were done on our own time. Hodge couldn’t spare us during the six-day week. Neither would O’Kane pay for overtime. As Hodge put it, the publisher is guaranteeing us forty-eight hours of gainful employment every week.

“Sunday’s my only day off,” I protested.

Hodge shook his head. “I thought you were looking for experience, boy, making a name for yourself.”

Hodge’s mother was half Arapaho, and be took a fierce pride in that part of his ancestry. Not surprisingly he took a keen interest in the Indian tribes in our circulation area. Yurok basket-weavers, sweat houses, Hoopa medicine men, ceremonial feasts and deerskin dances, and Klamath fishers and waterfowl hunters were Hodge-assigned features broadening my education as a young journalist.

In fact, Hodge was curious about everything. So, at his bidding, I explored the Del Loma caves in Trinity County, said to be a bandit hideout in frontier days; microscopic life on the shores of Humboldt Bay; a pygmy forest of pine and cypress in Mendocino County; an ancient lighthouse in a boiling sea off Crescent City; the terrible beauty of a logging operation in a redwood forest; the life of a commercial fisherman; the derring-do of steeplejacks; the tactics of a sheepherding rabbit.

I passed some five wonderful years under Hodge’s tutelage at the Humboldt Times. But without knowing it I was looking for a way out. The midnight chases in police cars had palled; the rowdiness at council meetings induced torpor.

My humor did not improve with Hodge pressing me every night for a fresh highway fatality or stickup, even a second-rate burglary.

“This paper’s dying on La-VINE,” Hodge said whenever I returned from my rounds empty-handed.

I began taking small parts in plays produced by the Union Town Players in Arcata. At dinnertime I’d scamper down the flight of stairs from the newsroom. My wife Donna would be waiting in the car outside with the motor running and a hot dinner. We’d race for the theatre as I wolfed down supper. As soon as the directors, Don Karshner or Bob Titlow, ran me through my few lines and dismissed me, we’d tear back to Eureka. Donna would get off at our H Street apartment and I’d fly off to the City Council or School Board or Sheriff’s Office — wherever the news beckoned.

A play I remember well was “Arsenic and Old Lace.” Gayle Karshner starred as one of the crazy old aunts. Jimmy Householder, my friend and a popular math professor at Humboldt State, played the mad Dr. Einstein. I was the genial, slow-witted Irish cop. In a production of Chekhov’s “Marriage Proposal,” I played the neurotic suitor, Cliff Peterson. A friend who ran a haberdashery in Eureka stole the show as the irate father.

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At about this time something new was in the wind — television. Like most newspaper people, I did not acknowledge TV as a serious medium for news. But the people running KVIQ were looking for a journalist to do the local news. The salary was $150 a week, $25 more than I was making at the newspaper. I would also be given a Volkswagen van for my personal use as well as for business. Hodge raised no objection to my leaving. If the move distressed him, he gave no sign of it.

In the fall of that year — 1962 — Richard Nixon was making his comeback. He’d been defeated two years before by John Kennedy in a contest for the presidency. Now he was running for governor of his native California. His itinerary called for a stop in Eureka.

Shadowing Nixon at this time was a story involving his younger brother, Donald. Questions were raised about a $205,000 loan that Howard Hughes, the reclusive billionaire, had made to Donald Nixon when Richard Nixon was Eisenhower’s vice president. For collateral the younger Nixon had put up a piece of property worth only $13,000. The press was asking why Hughes had been so generous to the vice president’s brother? Was there a quid pro quo? Was Richard Nixon linked to the deal? Up to now he had not been faced with questions about the loan on television.

KVIQ was an NBC affiliate. I queried the network: would it be interested in a spot with Nixon? The reply came quickly back, yes!

When I stepped into the room at the Eureka Inn for the Nixon interview, my cameraman, Buster DeBrunner, was grinning. The crew shooting commercials for the former vice president was offering us the use of their equipment. This was a big deal. We were a small station and had to make do with an antediluvian Auricon movie camera. It could shoot for only two and a half minutes before it was necessary to reload. Thus spontaneity, the essence of a television interview, would be lost. The Nixon crew’s camera was state-of-the-art, able to shoot non-stop for twelve and a half minutes. So now I was beaming, too.

Nixon stepped into the room. He moved lightly, efficiently, reminding me of a traveling actor who played many parts. 1 fired my questions about the Hughes loan. He kissed me off with finesse. Oh, yes, he’d heard all those rumors, but there wasn’t a scintilla of truth in any of it. And he went on, denigrating the allegations.

Nonetheless, the network wanted a minute of the interview. The substance of TV is not merely what someone says but the facial and body “language” with which it’s said. A “no comment” can sometimes convey high drama.

Buster and I gathered up our gear and the precious film, hugged the ad men for their benevolence, and tore off for the station.

I leaped to my desk while Buster dashed into the dark room. “Tell NBC we’ve got Nixon responding to the Hughes story!” I cried out to the receptionist and began typing. As I pounded out the script for narration I could hear Buster swearing. I ignored him but his voice grew louder.

“It’s ruined,” Buster said.

“What’s ruined?”

“The sound. It’s gone — erased, wiped out!”

Of course we lost our moment of glory on the Huntley-Brinkley Report. NBC wasn’t interested in a soundless interview.

We sent the film to a lab in San Francisco for answers. The analysis pointed to a number of possibilities — the film might have been defective, something might have gone wrong in the processor, and so on.

But in our hearts we believed Tricky Dick had struck again and taken us for the country bumpkins that we were!

###

Coca-Cola sponsored our local news program. Before we switched to the network in New York for the NBC Nightly News, the deal called for me to hold up a Coke, invite viewers to join me in “the pause that refreshes,” put the bottle to my lips and take a swig.

My hand shook so much, I could only raise the bottle a few inches the from the news desk.

Buster made obscene gestures in an effort to loosen me up. Sam Horel, the station manager, planted himself next to the camera. To this day I can hear him muttering, “Drink the Coke, schmuck.”

Night after night they tried in vain to get me to drink the Coke. Fortunately, the ratings were pretty good so I kept my job. But soon Sam was after me to produce a documentary. It was to be about a real estate development in the redwoods south of Eureka. The “documentary” he was touting was not a legitimate news story at all, but a thirty-minute commercial masquerading as one. I couldn’t do it. People would no longer trust me. I’d lose my credibility. Sam backed off but the handwriting was on the wall.

While all this was going on, NBC News was reminding reporters in the affiliated stations that the deadline for applying for an RCA/NBC Fellowship to the Graduate School of Journalism at Columbia University was at hand. I spent many days filling out forms, getting recommendations, writing an essay for admission and arranging for transfer of my undergraduate records from the University of Maine.

Months passed. I’d forgotten the whole business when I answered the phone in the pressroom in the Eureka City Hall. On the other end someone said, “Mel Lavine?” Then he introduced himself. It was an unfamiliar name. “This is Milton Brown.” And then, “NBC News New York. Con-grat-u-LATIONS!”

A year later — in the late spring of 1964 — I graduated with a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia. I offered my benefactors first refusal, and NBC hired me as a news writer. My goal was to land a job on the prestigious Today Show. It was a period when the media were rediscovering America’s grass roots. Just before I went in for the Today Show interview friends urged me to talk up my Eureka years. I took the advice. In the end the producer said, “I believe you’re just what this show needs.”

I worked with Frank McGee and Barbara Walters, hosts of the Today broadcast, and then with Jim Hartz and Barbara, and later with Tom Brokaw and Jane Pauley. They succeeded Barbara when she left NBC for ABC to become the first million-dollar-a-year journalist and a superstar. During these years I lectured around the country and worked up a talk on news-gathering entitled “The Media — Lap Dog or Watchdog?” But when I took questions people wanted to know what was Barbara Walters really like?

In 1978, after fifteen years at NBC, I accepted an offer from CBS to write and produce for a new program, Sunday Morning, hosted by Charles Kuralt. I was the original writer for Sunday Morning when the broadcast went on the air in January of 1979. The show was anchored for many years by Kuralt and since then by Charles Osgood. Sunday Morning is still going strong and will be thirty years old come next January During my many years at CBS I spent one required memorable year as a writer and producer on a documentary for Walter Cronkite.

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While I was with Sunday Morning I got a phone call from the vice president of the Eureka branch of the Bank of America. It was about Drivers Alert, Hodge’s most successful brainchild. By now Hodge had been dead a few years. The publisher, Don O’Kane, had died some years earlier. The newspaper had changed hands, taken over by a British chain. Hodge had been elbowed aside, a new editor installed in his place. With little to do and shorn of authority, people told me that Hodge had started drinking again. He was sixty-seven when he died of kidney failure.

For many years I’d worried about people finding out that Hodge, Al, Ernie and I played fast and loose with Drivers Alert’s money, using it as if it were our personal bank. If word ever got out, people surely would condemn our behavior as criminal, a betrayal of the public trust — though we’d redeemed every last dime before turning the money over to a committee of responsible citizens.

“You called about the money?” I said. Like an animal frozen in the headlights, I thought I was a goner. No use playing games; cop a plea.

The banker was indeed calling about the money.

He’d sought in vain to bring the matter to the attention of people who’d served on the committee. Several were deceased, some too ill to see him, a few left no traces. Then he remembered me.

The funds, now totaling a few thousand dollars, I believe, had gone unclaimed for more than thirty years. Drivers Alert, long defunct, could no longer be carried on the books. The money had to be liquidated.

“What happens in cases like this?” I asked, greatly relieved.

“The money goes to charity. Do you have a favorite charity?”

“Yes,” I said, remembering how proudly Hodge spoke of the Indian blood he’d inherited from his mother’s side. “The Arapaho Indians.”

“Are you sure?”

I was sure, and sure it would have been okay with Hodge, too.

###

Looking back, I can say that because of Hodge — Elmer L. Hodgkinson, Jr. — Eureka was my university. Hodge may have been shy, often diffident, sometimes self-deprecating. But he was witty and imaginative. All he wanted from a reporter were stories, the more exciting the better. His outlook happily reminded me of what Ted Gumble of Civil Defense had said when I first hit town:

“Out here we don’t care where you’ve been. We only want to know where you’re going.”

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Ruben DeLeon Marquez passed away tragically on October 22, 2025 in Willow Creek. He was born in Hoopa on June 29, 1981.

Ruben graduated from Hoopa Valley HS & went straight to Arizona to the Universal Technical Institute to graduate with a Associate of Occupational Studies Degree in Automotive, Diesel, and Industrial Technology. He immediately went to work for Billy Boat, former Indie car racer, then he went on to work for FabTech Motor Sports. After bumping around racing in a dune vehicle and fabricating he moved back to California. He started working for Aria Group, in Irvine which designed, engineered and manufactured automobiles. He was on top of his career when he was involved in a auto accident which took months to recover from. After a few years of working with daily pain he decided to move back to Willow Creek to be closer to his family.

He was born a social butterfly and when little league season started, there was Ruben coaching and umpiring. If you’d ask him “can you take a look at my car” he’d do it. If you’d ask him for a special weld, he’d do it. And if you just needed him to housesit he would do it because he was dependable.

His true love was playing his music. He had asked his second grade music teacher to teach him the guitar. He also took pleasure swimming and playing in the river every summer with his nieces and nephews.

He is survived by his parents Silvia DeLeon and Johnny Marquez; his aunts Rachel, Jessica, Geraldine and Ruby DeLeon; his uncles John and Eddie DeLeon and Ralph Reyes; and all his cousins, nieces and nephews.

He was preceded in death by his grandparents Joe and Maria DeLeon, and John and Marilyn Marquez.

Anyone who knew Ruben will immensely miss him. Te amo mucho hijo!

There will be two celebrations for Ruben. One will be at The Rock Slide Bar & Grill in Hawkins Bar, Hwy 299 on January 10 at 3 p.m. Potluck and grill will be open, and there will be lots of music. The second one will be in early spring at The Forks Bar in Willow Creek, date and time to be announced later via Facebook and posted at the bar.

Christopher Jack Sovereign, or CJ to those who knew him, was born in Ogden, Utah to Christine Williams and Jack Sovereign on March 4, 1991. CJ passed away on October 24, 2025, at just 34 years old. Very suddenly his passing has left a huge hole in the Hearts of those who loved him.

CJ grew up in Humboldt County with lots of family and friends, finally settling down and buying a home in Rio Dell with his wife in 2020. He loved hiking, long car rides (as long as he was driving), working on cars, fishing, camping, watching football, new movies, trying new food, spending time with his family amd extended family, having Oreo ice cream cake for his birthday and so much more. He hated his picture being taken more then anything but his wife loved taking them so he was burnt.

CJ had a huge heart and cared deeply for his family and would do anything for the ones he loved, literally and figuratively. He loved picking on his little sister relentlessly but would hurt anyone else that would. He had the strongest bond with his Mom and always thought of her first in any situation he could. CJ had a strong sense of loyalty to the ones he cared for and would stick by them even if it got him into trouble, which it did more often then not. Animals loved him just as much as he did them. He had a way with calming the most skittish of animals — even the squirrel that he had as a pet and named Buddy.

He was very patient when he wanted to be and he could be very pushy at other times when he thought it was taking too long. He did things how he wanted and expected everyone else to do things as he would as well. He always thought he was right even if he wasn’t, as he said “When I’m right I’m right and when I’m wrong I’m right.” He was called Grumpy Cat by his close friends and brothers the last few years because he was always so serious and came across as just grumpy with the face to match. He knew it was all out of love.

He said he hated pet names but he would smile when his wife called him by the one she gave him “hunny bunny.”

CJ went to many schools in the county and made many friends over the years. He left a everlasting impression on everyone he met, whether good or bad. He played junior football for EJLF. He would leave practice to go hang out with his best friend, now his wife, where she would make him lay on his stomach and rub his back to get him to take his shirt off. CJ did woodworking at Blue Ox Millworks, which he loved. CJ had an affinity for music and wiring car stereos, even though he was color blind. CJ was very good at troubleshooting and could diagnose car troubles almost instantly. He loved to work and keep his mind busy. When his mind wasn’t busy is when he would find himself in trouble.

CJ is preceded in death by his father, Jack Sovereign; grandmother Susan Sovereign and grandfather Jerry Sovereign; along with many aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

He is survived by his mother, Christine Williams; his sisters Sheree and Travis Docherty, Brinda Sovereign and Marasa Williams; his brothers Krystopher Keeler, Tanner Knodel, Robert Carpenter and Jack Sovereign; his children, Redsky Downs, Talon and Nee-kweech Downs, Sally Sovereign and Robert Gibson; and his wife, Noticia Sovereign; and his nieces Ky and Kamie Docherty; his grandmother Vera Sovereign; and many aunts, uncles and cousins.

CJ did not want a funeral, because in his words “Why should there be one for them to act like they give a –— when they don’t right now.” So in lieu of a funeral we will hold a celebration on his birthday in March to celebrate his life. Arrangements and notifications will be made at a later date over social media.

Written by his best friend of 31 years, his wife Noticia Sovereign.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Christopher Sovereign’s loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here.

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This story was originally published by CalMatters. Sign up for their newsletters.

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California’s battleground House districts might get the lion’s share of national attention for their role in deciding which party rules Congress’s lower chamber.

But in a handful of California’s deep blue districts, an intra-party battle over the future of the Democratic Party is brewing in the wake of grim losses during last year’s presidential race.

In Sacramento, Napa County and Los Angeles, three younger challengers are arguing that Democrats need to give voters fresh faces with bold new ideas to energize the party’s base, rather than aging incumbents who are entrenched more in Washington insider culture than in their districts.

“Status quo politics isn’t going to protect our communities,” said Sacramento City Councilmember Mai Vang, 40, who is running against 10-term Rep. Doris Matsui, 81. “We need leaders who can meet the moment. And that’s why I decided to step into the ring.”

Vang is the first formidable primary challenge that Matsui has faced in the two decades since the congresswoman won her late husband’s seat in 2005. Former Rep. Bob Matsui held that seat for 26 years prior.

Two other senior California congressional Democrats have also attracted primary challengers. Rep. Mike Thompson, 74, of Napa County, a Vietnam veteran vying for his 15th term, faces a challenge from Eric Jones, 34, a former San Francisco venture capitalist.

And farther south, former Obama and Biden White House climate aide Jake Levine, 41, is challenging Rep. Brad Sherman, 71, of Los Angeles, who is seeking his 16th term. All three challengers have vowed not to take corporate PAC money as their incumbent opponents do.

Around California and across the country, younger challengers argue that Democratic incumbents in safe districts take their seats for granted since they so rarely receive serious challenges. That false sense of security, Vang said, results in out-of-touch members who have fewer incentives to show up in their districts and talk to voters.

Part of meeting the current moment, Vang argues, means taking “bold and courageous” positions on important issues, such as speaking out forcefully against the Trump administration’s immigration enforcement tactics.

Vang said she wants Matsui to more strongly condemn immigration raids that have torn Sacramento families apart and violated residents’ due process rights. She was disappointed that Matsui’s denunciations centered around the unsanitary conditions of the John E. Moss federal building, where advocates said detainees were being held without access to proper hygiene, rather than on the separation of families and indiscriminate detentions.

“For the past several months we’ve had neighbors, people in our community that have been kidnapped by ICE, taken by ICE, and Doris hasn’t spoken up against that at all,” Vang said. “And especially as someone who was born in the internment camps, I would think she would be on the front lines to speak out on the issues.”

Matsui was born in the Poston War Relocation Center internment camp in Arizona, where her parents were incarcerated during World War II.

“That’s nonsense,” said Roger Salazar, a campaign spokesperson for Matsui, noting local news coverage of Matsui’s statement against an immigration raid on a South Sacramento Home Depot and her attempt to access an ICE detention facility. “She needs to watch the news.”

Matsui in October hosted a rare in-person forum only after constituents spent months calling on her to meet with them. Angry Sacramentans also hosted an empty-chair town hall in March to highlight Matsui’s absence, not even two weeks after House Democrats did a nationwide blitz of showing up in Republican districts to prove a similar point.

Some senior leaders are sticking around

Calls for generational change within the Democratic Party, while not new, have increased significantly as the party works to find its footing after 2024. The dynamic played out first in internal House leadership races earlier this year, where younger members like Rep. Robert Garcia of Long Beach leapfrogged more senior colleagues to lead powerful committees.

Rep. Thompson, Matsui’s congressional counterpart in neighboring Napa County, said his constituents have stopped him in public and asked him to run again.

“I can’t tell you how many times I had people tell me, ‘I sure hope you’re gonna stick around. We need you more now than ever,’” Thompson told CalMatters. “No one’s asked me to retire. No one has suggested that I’ve been there too long. And everyone knows that not only am I capable, but I’m in good shape.”

In Sacramento, Vang, the eldest of 16 children whose Hmong parents came to the United States as refugees, said she has the utmost respect for the Matsuis and their long history of service.

Still, she has called on Matsui to follow the examples of House Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi — who announced last month that she would retire next year and not seek reelection to a 21st term in Congress — and Rep. Nydia Velazquez of New York, who told The New York Times that “now is the right moment to step aside and allow a new generation of leaders to step forward.”

But Matsui remains steadfast that she has much more work to do in Congress, such as overseeing groundbreaking for Sacramento’s new I Street bridge and securing federal funds for flood prevention and wildfire recovery, and said she will stay in the race. She emphasized that the deep relationships she’s built over 20 years in Washington are critical to her ability to deliver on those projects.

“It’s important to not only have advocates, but have people who understand that once you’re in Congress, you have to learn how to govern, too,” Matsui said. “We cannot just throw everything out and start over again.”

As for Vang’s intra-party primary challenge, Matsui said anyone is “perfectly free” to run against her at any time. “I’m fine with that. This is our democracy. This is America.”

But she insisted that her record would reinforce to voters how hard she works.

“I show up every single day working for Sacramento,” Matsui said, “whether it’s in Sacramento or in D.C.”

The risk of Dem-on-Dem challenges

One risk of primarying veteran members of Congress is the loss of institutional wisdom, said Gale Kaufman, a Sacramento-based Democratic strategist, particularly with the Trump administration testing the limits of the law and boundaries of power.

“Especially when you’re up against stuff like this, which we’re not familiar with, breaking every norm you could possibly imagine,” Kaufman said, “having some of those people around is not a bad thing.”

Even among younger Democrats, there’s not wide consensus that incumbents are out and young challengers are automatically in. Evan Cragin, president of the Sacramento County Young Democrats, echoed Kaufman’s point that a blanket policy of “vote out all incumbents over a certain age” could be counterproductive.

While the Young Democrats have yet to endorse anyone in the congressional races, Cragin said he is personally conflicted about who to support.

“I don’t know who I’m going to vote for,” Cragin said. “It’s nice to have a strong member at the moment, but also, there is part of me that wants to make sure we support our younger members. And Councilmember Mai Vang is a very strong challenger. She’s very community oriented.”

Those who support intra-Democratic challenges argue that they drive important dialogue and force candidates to clearly articulate their ideas and earn voters’ trust, rather than taking their support as a given. Incumbent Democrats across the country could benefit from primary challenges as the party soul searches, said Alex Niles, vice president of political affairs for the Sacramento County Young Democrats.

“We need to have a reckoning and figure out, ‘What does it mean to be a Democrat? What do we stand for? What do people want and who are we serving?’” Niles said.

“The circular firing squad in blue districts hurts our ability to win swing districts.”
— U.S. Rep. Brad Sherman of Los Angeles

Unsurprisingly, many incumbents and political strategists disagree, denouncing intra-party primaries as expensive distractions that deplete safe members’ fundraising that could otherwise support colleagues in more vulnerable districts.

“The circular firing squad in blue districts hurts our ability to win swing districts,” Rep. Sherman told CalMatters in an interview.

Candidates in safe districts often support their more vulnerable colleagues to gain clout within the party, whether through direct transfers of campaign cash or by urging their donors to channel their contributions to more contested races. Sherman argues that a competitive intra-Democratic primary forces a safe incumbent to invest more in their own reelection rather than helping flip battleground seats. He repeatedly mentioned tight races in Iowa and Ohio that he views as critical to Democrats reclaiming the House.

“What happens in swing seats may determine whether America’s a democracy,” Sherman said. “Democrats have got to win seats in Iowa, and we can’t do it unless the strong Democrats in Bel Air and Brentwood and Malibu are focused on Iowa.

“It’s hard to get people in Brentwood to focus on Iowa if there’s a real race in Brentwood.”

He added that while it matters which Democrat represents California’s 32nd Congressional District, the Los Angeles-area seat that he’s represented for almost 30 years, it’s “not life or death for our democracy.”

Sherman’s challenger Levine, who outraised the congressmember last quarter and appears to be the frontrunner in a crowded field, agrees that Democrats need to flip GOP-held seats to reclaim control of the House. But at the same time, if their party wants to retain the majority and win back disaffected voters, Democrats need to prove they’re focused on lowering the cost of living and improving their quality of life, in addition to preserving democracy.

After leaving Los Angeles to pursue a climate policy career in Washington, D.C., Levine moved back home earlier this year to help his mother after she lost her house — his childhood home — in the devastating Palisades Fire. He was frustrated by the disjointed local and state response to recovery, and he had hoped Sherman would step up and coordinate the response.

“The things that people want to hear about, and the things that I’m trying to talk about, are the issues in the district,” he said. “Those issues really are not about the composition of the House. They’re not about Washington inside-the-beltway questions of power.”

Instead, Levine wants to see his member of Congress answer the kinds of questions that families like his own think about every day — “Can I afford my rent? Can my kids stay in the same neighborhood where they grew up, and even in the same state, because it’s so prohibitively expensive?”

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The Ma-le’l Dunes is one of the most pristine dune systems in the Pacific Northwest. Located on the Samoa Peninsula west of Arcata, its undulating sand mounds, sprawling coastal forest, salt marshes and diverse native flora have earned the area recognition as a National Natural Landmark — a designation reserved for the nation’s most “outstanding biological and geological resources.” 

But do you know how the Ma-le’l Dunes came to be? In today’s episode of Humboldt Outdoors, local documentarian Ray Olson and Friends of the Dunes Restoration Manager Justin Legge discuss the unusual geological events that shaped the dunes and the ancient forest that still lies beneath the surface.

Olson points to an ancient tree partially buried in sand. | Screenshot. 

“This isn’t just a story about geology,” Olson says in the video above. “In the path of these advancing Dunes is an ancient and rare forest. It’s a relic from the Ice Age! And as these dunes are moving in, they’re slowly smothering large swaths of this ancient forest. Leading edges of this dune have already reached Humboldt Bay.”

Legge also shares his expertise on the unique flora and fauna that reside in the coastal dunes, including a strange little beetle that swims through sand and a pine species that only grows as tall as the dunes that surround it. How ‘bout that!

“Once you climb out of that rare, weird dune forest on top of that giant sand sheet, it feels like you’re out on the moon — your entire vision is just open sand dunes and maybe a little peek of the ocean,” Legge said. “And it just feels like such an alien landscape, so different than anywhere else in Humboldt County.”

Do yourself a favor and click “play” on the video above to learn all about one of Humboldt County’s greatest treasures. Want to see it for yourself? Check out the Bureau of Land Management’s website before you go.

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Our beautiful angel, Denise Renee Griffith Simons, age 59, of Redway, Calif., passed away on Sunday, November 9, 2025, at Providence St. Joseph Hospital after a courageous 15-month battle with lung cancer. She was surrounded with love, family, and friends. She was able to spend her last two days saying goodbye to numerous loved ones, including around 30 goodbye phone calls.

Deni (“Denny”), as she was called by family and friends, was born on July 21, 1966, at Redwood Memorial Hospital. She was the second child of David Griffith Sr. and Zemona Fuell Griffith, joining big brother David Jr.

Denise grew up in Rio Dell and lived her whole life in Humboldt, other than nine months in Utah while in the 8th grade. She graduated from Rio Dell Elementary School in 1980 and Fortuna High School in 1984.

After high school, Deni married Kevin Waters, and they welcomed her oldest son, Kevin Wayne Waters, on November 10, 1985. After Deni and Kevin divorced, she met Mark Johnson, and they welcomed her only daughter, Patricia LeeAnn Johnson, on November 25, 1988, and her youngest son, Justin David Johnson, on March 20, 1990. In 1995, she met Dan Simons, whom she later married, and together they raised her children. They hosted many family gatherings in their beautiful home and yard throughout the years.

Deni will be remembered for her kindness, her love of gardening and cooking, and her devotion to family. Known as Nene to her nieces, nephews, and second cousins—whom she loved having at her house in Holmes Flat—she taught them to cook, bake, garden at night, hunt snails, and chase possums after dark on quads. Nene also let them take the truck down the flat and up the avenue to the Redcrest store starting at 13 years old (something their parents did not know about for a few years).

Deni devoted her life to her grandsons, born six days apart in 2011, August and Liam. She had them every chance she got, and they learned to love garage shopping with her. Deni’s generous and loving nature led her to raise her grandson Guss since he was a toddler. She later became a foster parent for Guss’s brother, Cyder (already his Grammy by heart). She continued fostering for Charlotte, Kayden, Jolene, and Marshall, while also caring for Dona.

Deni’s greatest dream when she grew up was to be a mom and homemaker. The only thing that brought her more joy than motherhood was being a Grammy to her boys. Deni always worked outside of the home (mostly for Aunt Ruby), but that never stopped her from being an amazing homemaker.

At 19, Deni spent many hours sewing Connie a cherished and beautiful white satin and pink lace gown for prom. She was an amazing cook and baker. She took great satisfaction in her yard and gardening (and houseplants). Deni was proud of the things she taught herself, becoming self-sufficient around the house. Her home was always decorated beautifully, and you could feel the love she put into it.

The hardest part of her cancer and treatment was that she no longer had the energy to cook. Deni loved to crochet, and she tried so hard to finish an afghan for each of her loved ones before her neuropathy became too severe. Casey spent a week with her Nene, giving Patricia a week off. During that time, Casey learned a couple of Nene’s best recipes and how to crochet.

Denise is survived by her loving children Kevin and Angelina Waters, Trish Johnson, and Justin Johnson; her father, David Griffith Sr.; and her grandsons Liam Waters, August Etter Johnson, and Cyder Etter. She is also survived by her brother (lifetime bestie and bestie/sister-in-law) David and Renee Griffith Jr.; her sister (lifetime bestie) and brother-in-law Connie and Mike O’Neal; her sister and best friend since grammar school, Wendy Hudson; her sister and brother-in-law Tina and Jeff Ketner; her sister Brandi Mangum; her brother Brandon Fierro; her stepsister Debbie Stuart; and her stepbrother Gary Davis.

She was the most amazing Nene to Natasha Brooks, Tyler Barisdale, Kolbi Brandt, Jacob Evenson, Darien Griffith, David Griffith III, Casey Vitali, Cory Hall, Sean O’Neal, Shannan O’Neal-Jacobson, Kyle Hudson, Ryan Hudson, Kenzie Hudson, Brandon Fowler, Tiffany Christianson-Port, Jennifer Ketner, Jordan Mangum, Michaela House, Ava Fierro, Aerien Fierro, Parker Fierro, Sarah Dillon, Ashley Stuart, and John Urich. She was a great-Nene to Kellan, Kinzley, Korbin, Kamden, Chandler, Harper, Kayson, Taytum, Louis, Aliyanna, Cameron, Grayson, Kaiden, Carson, Baby Girl Vitali (on her way), Devlin, Zayne, Hunter, Griffyn, Livy, Maddox, Jace, Jax, Sawyer, Avery, Logan, Holden (on his way), Soren, Madison, Asher, Jonathan, Hunter, Bryce, Kacee, Brogan, Echo, Oscar, JJ, Savannah, Aviannah, Ivy, and John.

She is also survived by special Aunt and Uncle Vickie and Alan Aust; special Uncle and Aunt Tom and Barbara Griffith; and special Aunt Sherri Nieto; plus hundreds of cousins from an exceptionally large family, many of whom she was close to (and they know who they are). Deni also had many dear friends. We won’t attempt to name them all for fear of forgetting someone, but her friends knew how she felt about them. (If you were part of “Updates on Denise,” she considered you more than just a friend.)

Special mention goes to Curtis Tatum for all of his hours of friendship over the last year, especially during her last month—we are so grateful to you; to Ana for the many hours of talking and traveling to visit her; and to Terra for being her cancer-warrior sister. Thank you to John and Cindy Slater and Don and Melinda Doran for all of your spiritual support. A few months ago, John baptized Deni, which was such a special night for our whole family. Knowing that my sister accepted God before passing is comforting.

Denise was preceded in death by her mother, Mona Fuell Fierro; her grandparents Bill and Elsie Griffith and Justin and Zemona (“Beeba”) Fuell; her ex-husband and friend Dan Simons; her special brother-in-law Mark Hudson; and many aunts, uncles, and cousins, including Marvin and Ruby Holmes, Jim and Billie Brown, John and Joyce Griffith, and Jack and Irene Eacker.

Davie, Wendy, and Connie would like to thank Trish for changing her life to come home and take over her mom’s household—which included a disabled lady (Dona), her two grandsons, foster kids, and caring for her mom. Your momma appreciated it, even when she did not feel her best and was not easy to live with. My favorite is when I’d get calls from both of you because you were spending too much time together, fighting, and you both almost gave me a stroke. The best was when she needed to stay a night with me for Wendy to pick her up for an early morning appointment, and Trish kicked her out for four days, lol. Mike and Connie loved having her at their house, and she loved the guest bed—but they got a laugh out of her being “kicked out.”

Over the last 15 months, Trish took care of the home, while Connie, Wendy, Mike, and Trish shared taking her to her many appointments, and Davie joined many over the phone. Connie was lucky enough to spend time alone with her during trips to UCSF and will cherish those memories forever—her beautiful angel and sissy.

Our family would like to thank Dr. Baird for his care over the last 15 years, but especially since her diagnosis, as well as Providence for their care over the last 15 months. This includes all of her doctors, oncology staff, chemo nurses, Radiation Oncology staff, and the Med-Surg staff who cared for her during the last 2½ weeks of her life—especially Patti, the palliative NP, and the hospitalist team.

Celebration of Life will be Saturday, January 24th at 2 p.m. at the Rio Dell Fire Hall, 50 West Center Street, Rio Dell, Calif.

In lieu of flowers, please plant something in her memory. If you would like to make a monetary donation in her name, kindly donate to the Rio Dell Fire Hall or the Eureka Rescue Mission.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Denise Renee Griffith Simons’ loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here.