Sunday, January 30, 2005
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Football Fans: Lori Chap's Work Group
Friday we all dressed in various football attire -- the only purpose being the excuse for yet another potluck! This picture was taken of our crew. (I'm third from the left in the front row.) My company, Benfield, is quite large but my department, Paragon, consists of approximately 30 people. Not everyone dressed up, but many did and we all enjoyed the food and festivities.
Maple Grove, MN
UPDATE -- Tsunami Disaster Relief Mission
The amphibious assault ship USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6), upper left, steams underway with a Landing Craft Air Cushion (LCAC) alongside in the Indian Ocean. The LCACs of Assault Craft Unit Five (ACU-5) are capable of transporting more supplies than helicopters in a single trip. The Bonhomme Richard Expeditionary Strike Group, operating in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Indonesia and Thailand, supported Operation Unified Assistance, the humanitarian operation effort in the wake of the Tsunami that struck South East Asia. U.S. Navy photo by Photographer's Mate 1st Class Felix Garza, Jr.
As reported in previous Bulletins, Kurt Larson's ship, the USS Bonhomme Richard, left San Diego without Kurt on board. Then the ship was diverted to Sumatra to provide food, fresh water and medical care for tsunami victims. Kurt was reunited with the ship during its nine days of humanitarian assistance operations in support of Operation Unified Assistance.
The multipurpose amphibious assault ship USS Bonhomme Richard (BHR) (LHD 6) and the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU) delivered more than a million pounds of humanitarian aid to tsunami survivors on the Indonesian island of Sumatra. During BHR’s time on station, the San Diego-based ship’s embarked helicopters and landing craft, air cushion (LCAC) hovercraft delivered food, medicine and thousands of gallons of fresh water ashore, helping to save lives, mitigate suffering and prevent the onset of tsunami-related epidemics.
ABOARD USS BONHOMME RICHARD, At Sea (January 25) -- We are just leaving the Indonesia area en route to the Persian Gulf. We have been relieved by the USS Essex (sound familiar? That was my first ship ... 6 years ago) and they will be handling the tsunami aid effort now.
As far as participating personally? No, not really. Helicopters were taking load after load of supplies over to land and dropping them off. The government apparently is not very fond of the U.S., in spite of our good intentions and much needed supplies, so setting up any kind of base on land is out of the question. We have dropped off over 750 tons of food, medical supplies and drinking water, and the USS Essex will follow up with more supplies, I'm sure.
I have resumed my responsibilities as electronics technician aboard the ship, so that keeps me pretty busy, for the most part. Sorry, nothing more exciting to report, but such is life.
San Diego, CA
Cmdr. Daryl R. Hancock, assigned to Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6) Expeditionary Strike Group, shakes an Indonesian man's hand, lower left, after distributing water and rice from an MH-60S Knighthawk helicopter, assigned to the "Gunbearers" of Helicopter Combat Support Squadron One One (HC-11). U.S. Navy photo by Journalist 3rd Class Ryan Valverde.
A U.S. Marine Corps CH-46E Sea Knight lifts off from a village on the island of Sumatra, Indonesia, right, after delivering relief supplies and disaster relief teams. Helicopters from USS Bonhomme Richard (LHD 6) and Marines assigned to 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit supported Operation Unified Assistance. U.S. Navy photo by Photographer's Mate 3rd Class Tyler J. Clements.
More news of the ship and its mission is available via this official Navy web site's news section:
UPDATE -- Letter from Kuwait
Editor's Note: Jim Pachan is a friend of the family -- especially of his three buddies: Eric Anderson, Wyatt Johnson, and Weston Johnson. He is a Sergeant in the U.S. Army, 42nd Infantry Division. This letter was written from Camp Buehring, Kuwait, just before they moved on to a new post, FOB (Camp) Speicher, near Tikrit, Iraq, in a three-day overland convoy of 522 miles. I thought perhaps it would be of general interest to learn a little of what it is like over there. In this letter that he wrote, I found it interesting that they took their fast food and junk food with them!
Somebody asked the other day about what it is like living here, and I thought some of you would find this interesting:
Brief description: We live in a big white tent that is about 100 or so feet long by about 30 feet wide. It has a kind of lining in the inside and the floor is wooden ... like they have put together a thousand wooden pallets. There are two huge heater/air units on the outside.
We have 77 people in our tent. (There are only supposed to be 66.) We each have two army duffel bags under the cot and a rucksack and a personal bag (backpack, computer bag, etc.). We put up ropes (parachute cord) to use to hang hangers and towels and stuff like that.
In our area there are about 40 of these tents, lined up in a little community. (I have no idea how many areas there are.) We have to walk about 1/16 of a mile to the mess hall and a few hundred yards beyond that there is the Internet Cafe, Burger King, Subway, Green Beans Coffee and the PX, along with some other little shops like barber, alterations and stuff like that.
Almost the whole place is run by generators; it sounds like there is a tractor running outside the tent 24/7. There are a few tar roads here but most of the "streets" are, you guessed it, packed sand!
Camp Buehring, Kuwait
Day to Day R
With Donna Mae
I can't remember how Mom and I decided to try playing Scrabble via e-mail, but once we got it worked out How, we certainly have done a lot of games since! We ironed out the rules and how we'd make it work, didn't have too many "bumps" and haven't had too many problems since. Now and then, we have to call or write to straighten something out, but generally speaking it's been smooth scrabbling for some time now!
I'm not sure of our exact date or the first game, but I started keeping the notebooks as of November 20, 2001. I have now collected two 80 page notebooks and six 70 page notebooks and am half way through the seventh 70 page notebook currently. I use two pages for each game, so do the math ... there have been several games played!
We each have a little miniature game set; thanks to Peggy for giving me mine! It's saved us lots of space and is so much neater on our desks than the big games we used for a long time. Peggy also purchased little tin boxes with Scrabble on the front, in which we each keep our miniature tiles. Very handy! At one point Peggy played with us for a few games, but she withdrew, claiming she "slowed us down." We did enjoy having her onboard for the games she did play.
I've kept track of a few of our firsts and best games; high game score for both together is 1,018 points during one game. Other scores: Mom's high score - 523, lowest score 281 (although the game we are playing right now, she may break that low score!). My high score 589, lowest 272. We've each had three scrabbles in a game; one game I had four scrabbles (or bingos as the Scrabble game calls them).
One game we both had the same word, "forte," that we'd planned on starting the game with, if we won the tile draw. The player with the longest word -- and the lowest letter, in case we need a tie breaker -- gets to start. That was a suggestion from Beaver.
Other things I've recorded: I had three scrabbles in a row; Mom had one word, "underbud," using two blanks and hitting two triple word scores, for a total word score of 131; my highest word was "repulser," using one blank and hitting two triple word tiles for 140 points. Each of us has won a few games with more than a 200 plus point lead on the other, which gets old if it happens too often. :-) We have only had one tie game in the whole process.
It's proven great entertainment for both us and we love it, and hope to continue for many more years!
Mom adds a paragraph:
You must understand that this is not a waste of time we are talking here! It has kept our brains alert and active. It has helped us plan meals, pass recipes along, keep track of the health of each family member, discuss romances, and possible ones, and tell what the weather is like. (That was most useful in the Missouri days.) All of this is made possible because we can always tack it onto the Scrabble moves before we forget (as we aren't either one noted for sharp memories), AND of course that is another reason for Scrabbling -- to sharpen up our memories: Now then did I send that last move, or not? Excuse me while I call Donna to find out!
Tools of the game...
The Matriarch Speaks W
by Dorothy (Dake) Anderson
Starting with Bulletin 124, I planned to run biographical sketches of the members of our staff. Now that this has been done, I want to run sketches and pictures of the readers and subscribers who have not already done introductions. Please tell us about yourself. What is your work and what else do you do with your time? How are you related or what friend introduced you into the family? I am hoping that you can share family photos and background sketches. Send all manuscripts and pictures to me at email@example.com
Bullhauler: First Load
By Larry Dake
G'won, get! Get!"
On my hands and knees, on the top deck of an old wooden livestock trailer, I was mucking around in two inches of pig manure -- eye to eye -- shoulder to shoulder -- with a dozen fat and frightened hogs.
The hogs squealed louder and pressed tighter to the front. Steam rolled off their backs.
It was well past midnight and if I wanted to get any sleep tonight, I had to get these hogs off this truck. I whistled an ear piercing whistle and tried to squeeze myself between the hogs and the front of the trailer.
Parked next to me was another semi tractor and trailer. That driver had unloaded his load of steers, except for one crazy Holstein sporting a wicked set of horns.
I looked out between the slats and could see the driver crawling around on the side of his aluminum trailer. The steer's horns banged on the sides as the driver tried to reach him with a long electric prod.
When the prod made contact, the steer kicked the side of the trailer with a powerful blow. He clearly didn't want to get off the truck.
We were backed up to the long row of unloading ramps at the South St. Paul Stockyards. I had unloaded two small bunches of beef steers. The first group had been crowded against the trailer door and stumbled out as soon as I opened it. The second group had walked off, too, except for a cull dairy cow that was in with them. She had been down and needed considerable persuasion -- and heavy lifting -- to get her on her feet.
Twenty sheep -- and two large boars -- had been the next to unload. They were penned at the front of the trailer, beneath the hogs on the upper deck.
I had dragged a ewe part way out, into the light of the stockyard, then raced back in to chase the other ewes out after her. After a few failed attempts, the ewes finally went out, sticking together like magnets.
One of the two boars had been in with the ewes, as there hadn't been enough panels to separate him from the sheep. After I got the sheep out, I chased the boar out, too.
Then I fumbled in the dark and untied the binder twine holding the last panel. I released the other boar from behind the panel. But, before I got him off the truck, the first boar came running back on and took a swipe at him with his tusk. He left an eight inch gash in his side -- and I had to break up their fight.
Now it was just these dozen fat hogs on the top deck left to unload.
And they weren't budging!
Ssssk! Sssssk! Sssssk! G'won, now!" I said.
When we had loaded the hogs onto the upper deck, we had used a bulky, makeshift ramp. There wasn't room to bring the ramp along, so now the hogs would have to jump the four feet from the top deck to the bottom deck.
"Pssh! Pssssht! Git!"
"OUT! OUT! OUT!" I shouted.
They were crowding me into the corner of the trailer. My Irish came to the fore and I grabbed one of the hogs by her tail and pushed and shoved until she had to jump. She made an awkward leap and landed without grace. Fat hogs don't make good paratroopers.
Out through the slats, I could see the other driver wasn't making much progress with his steer. The steer was cavorting around in his truck like a madman. I decided to give the hogs and myself a rest and to give my neighbor a hand.
I crawled up onto the opposite side of his trailer and started poking at the mad steer with a livestock cane. This allowed us to contact the steer more easily. But he only kicked and banged harder.
Eventually our hands and ankles tired of crawling around on the side of the truck like a couple of Bluegreen Bottle Flies.
Uttering profanities of disgust, the driver went to the rear of his trailer and I held my breath when he climbed over the loading chute and walked into the trailer with the unruly steer.
The two jousted with each other for a few long moments. When the trucker saw his chance, he brought the prod home and zapped the steer. With a loud beller, the steer came flying out the back of the truck with his tail straight up in the air. The guys in the pens had to do some fancy footwork to scramble out of his way.
"Thanks for your help," the trucker said to me as he was putting away his prod. "Where's Ron?"
"He got run over by a cow and hurt his back," I said. "I'm the new driver."
"Oh-h-h, just getting your feet wet, are you?"
"Yah, first trip ... I'm having a little trouble getting these hogs off the top deck."
"Are you?" he exclaimed. "Have a mind of their own -- do they?"
"Yah, they sure do," I said.
"Let me give you a hand," he said.
We entered my almost empty trailer.
"Where's your ramp?" he asked.
"It didn't fit in with the load," I answered. "Ron said I wouldn't need it."
"Tell Ron I said he needs to send you with a ramp next time!" he laughed. "Here! Let's pull out the decking."
He started pulling the decking boards out from under the hogs. I joined in with the effort. As each hog ran out of decking to stand on, she toppled onto the floor. After we chased the last one out, I thanked the driver and we went inside to collect our receipts.
The Bolivian Beat
By Kjirsten Swenson
Editor's Note: Kjirsten has returned to Bolivia for a second year of independent study in Morochata, prior to enrollment in medical school at Baylor University in Houston, fall semester 2005. She went trekking in Argentina with her parents, Sheldon and Mitzi (Johnson) Swenson, the first week of January. Her mom is guest reporter this week.
Kjirsten and Sheldon bought fruit here that was as delicious as it was beautifully arranged. A nearby vendor thought Sheldon should wear his apron for the photo!
In a few minutes we're leaving for the airport to fly to Bariloche. We will do a short backpacking trip today and tomorrow, then pass through civilization on our way to one or two longer trips. We are leaving a bag here and will stash a bag in Bariloche, so we will carry pretty light packs.
We've eaten our way through Buenos Aires. Kjirsten believes in walking everywhere we go so we can eat well! That means well over 10 miles per day. She also believes in daily ice cream. We were buying the very smallest cone, about $1, with two flavors, and sharing it three ways.
On Saturday Sheldon rebelled, stating he'd had enough dark chocolate and tiramisu and lemon and could he please have his own? So at her most favorite ice cream store, where she gets hazelnut creme, he got mint chip and coconut; I had lemon mousse and dark chocolate. The next time, he still had his own, but we shared. We're not gaining weight....
Sunday we spent a nice day at convention, then took the train back and ate dinner at a middle eastern buffet. I should mention we ate at a sushi place Saturday evening and I had some of the best salmon, ever.
Up to this point, Sheldon has mostly endured the trip, because he's really not a city guy, but he is excited to be departing for the mountains. Also the hotel air conditioning didn't work last night and so we slept with the balcony door open about three stories above a busy street....
Kjisten assures us Bariloche is famous for their chocolate!
Buenos Aires architecture is fascinating, left. This was a special treat at Kjirsten's favorite ice cream place, right, because we each had our own cone! Usually we all shared the smallest possible cone. That's how you justify ice cream every day.
The Danger Rangers, Chapter 7
Story by Douglas A. Anderson-Jordet
Illustration by Brianna Anderson-Jordet
If you were young in the seventies you were almost certain to share the same dubious role model as the rest of the scruffy pre-adolescent horde: Evel Knievel. If you were like me, you had at least one Evel Knievel action figure and you got your parents' money's worth out of it. If you owned one or more of his scaled down replicas, it wasn't difficult to recreate Evel's many death-defying stunts, even his infamous Snake Canyon jump. All you needed was something to jump over and a pleasant summer afternoon to waste doing it.
Eventually, however, the scaled down models simply weren't enough and that's when the real trouble began.
My best friend in fourth grade was Doug Benson and our binding element was definitely Evel Knievel. One day in early spring I rode his bus route home and we proceeded to turn his ample country backyard into our own version of Evel Knievel's testing grounds. Doug had the chopper model, while I favored the Snake Canyon X-2 Skycycle.
We pumped away furiously at the pressurized power terminals and set our simulated Evel Knievels whizzing into all kinds of peril. We put our Korean-made American heroes to every test: over the dog, over the garbage cans, over the roof of the utility shed, on and on, until our wiry plastic heroes looked like jump-suited dirt farmers and their vehicles rattled with free-floating parts.
Then we turned our attention to the collection of used bikes that was strewn across his back yard.
"I get The Bomber!" Doug declared. My heart sank. The Bomber was an early sixties model Schwinn with huge blue fenders that made it look more like a motorcycle than a bicycle. Naturally, this feature made it the ride of choice for any discerning 11-year-old, hands down. I conceded; it was, after all, his house. I picked up the purple and yellow number with the sissy bar and banana seat, which I aptly christened The Other Bomber.
Our play was innocent enough at first, the usual endurance race or wheelie competition, nothing very innovative.
Then we noticed a ravine with running water that cut through the back yard. This meager trickle was our own private Snake River and our course of action seemed clear, even predestined; we had to jump that ravine on our bikes. Later I would figure out that our own private Snake river was a sewer drainage, but that never would have occurred to me then.
"I dunno..." I said. "Seems risky."
"Of course it's risky," Doug replied, rolling his eyes. "What's the point of a death-defying stunt that's not risky?"
"Shouldn't we practice on something smaller first?" My friend sneered at this suggestion.
"Did Evel Knievel jump the Rum River before he went to the Snake River?" I couldn't argue with such impeccable logic, so I lined up behind him on the ledge.
I read somewhere that Evel knievel is dying of liver failure, caused by a faulty transfusion as the result of one of his infamous death-defying stunts. As I peered over the edge of a six-foot drop that emptied into two feet of sewer water, I had no time to consider such grim realities. Do or die, so the saying goes. No one loves a chicken, especially in times of such great heroes as Evel Knievel.
Doug went first, kicking up an impressive dust cloud as he launched. He cleared the ravine easily, landing on the other side with apparent ease. He spun The Bomber around and held both arms heavenward in the Universal Gesture of Triumph.
"Wooooo!" He exclaimed. "That was easy! I AM Evel Knievel!" I pondered his proclamation.
"What's the matter?" he said. "Are you chicken?" Of course I was.
"No way," I lied. "It's just that my bike isn't as good as yours. I need more time to calculate."
"Bawwwwk, bawk, bawk!" he clucked.
I squeezed the handlebars tightly, as if that would save me. Gravity finally enveloped me and I swooped down on that ravine like a reluctant chicken hawk hunting a field mouse. I could hear my friend laughing as I launched from the ravine ridge and hung midair in a strange kind of suspended animation. He must have known that I was not going to clear the water.
My front tire landed first, safely on the bank, while my rear tire landed a quarter second later on the water's edge. I could feel the bike buckle beneath me and fold like a wallet. The collision ejected me, as if from an enraged rodeo bull, and I landed flat on my back in the middle of our simulated Snake River, never having time to fully consider the consequences of what I had attempted; perhaps not unlike my great hero himself, that fateful day in Idaho, not so long ago.
As is the case so many times with foolish young boys, I was lucky. I smelled funny and had to wear some of Doug's clothes until his mother finished washing mine, but that was the extent of my consequences, thankfully. The bike frame was easily straightened between an oak stump and a crowbar, so no real damage was done.
"You better stick to playing with dolls," my friend said.
Naturally, I hit him.
This and That
by Elaine Wold
Loss of a Good Friend
I lost a good friend last week. Its not easy to lose a friend who has been so close to one for a long time.
This friend has always stood by me continually, was always there when I needed her, comforted me anytime -- day or night, was always available for me, regardless of good times or bad.
This friend liked me as I was, never complained or was critical of me, even though I wasn't always gentle or kind towards her. I miss her -- and yet, I could see her failing ... losing her appearance, even getting saggy and limp, and showing her years of wear and tear.
And so -- it came her time to go ... my old purple robe!
Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of 5
This Week's Special Days
February 2---Groundhog Day
This Week's Birthdays:
January 30---Whitney Johnson
February 1---Kathlyn (Johnson) Anderson
February 4---Cameron Birkholz
More February Birthdays:
February 6---Melody Printz
February 6---Kelli Jo Mellon (6 years old)
February 28---Eric Anderson
February 26---Tim and Char (Morgan) Myron (22 years)
February 28---Junior and Doris Anderson (43 years)
More February Special Days
February 8-14---National Salute to Hospitalized Veterans
February 12---Abraham Lincoln's Birthday
February 14---Valentine's Day
February 21---Presidents' Day
February 22---George Washington's Birthday
Miss Hetty's Mailbox:
Thanks to Miss Hetty and Staff for the cute anniversary card ... we enjoyed all the well wishes in it!
Beaver and I were treated to a lovely Mexican meal at the new Don Pablos restaurant in Fergus Falls last Friday evening. Good food and great company! A big THANK YOU to Eddie and Peggy for entertaining and feeding us!
Tonight we'll feast on prime rib at the Legion in Ashby, as there is a big, formal dinner with guest speakers that Beaver is supposed to attend.
Beaver & Donna (Anderson) Johnson
Miss Hetty Says
Valentines For Vets
To Our Readers:
Beaver found these web sites for me... They have links to addresses where people can take or send valentines to hospitalized veterans. This program encourages readers to deliver valentines to their nearest Department of Veterans Affairs hospital, and in years past, it has resulted in millions of cards and letters for America's veterans. Readers of Ann Landers' newspaper advice columns have been encouraged to participate, year after year:
"Every year, Camp Fire Boys and Girls deliver valentines to our veterans, and Salvation Army volunteers distribute valentines, gifts and refreshments to various VA facilities around the country. Teachers, you have always been extremely helpful and supportive in making this a class project, especially with those wonderful handmade valentines. We hope you will encourage your students to be creative and let them learn firsthand the satisfaction that comes from doing something for others."
Click here to read more about Valentines for Vets.
The second URL lists gives contact information for veterans hospitals in Minnesota.
The addresses of other VA facilities can be obtained by looking in the telephone directory, by calling a toll-free number at 1-800-827-1000, or by checking the web site at www.va.gov
Active duty troops would likely appreciate receiving valentines, too.
If any of you are interested in making it plain to Jim Pachan that he is remembered by all of us, maybe you would be interested in this suggestion made by Jim's friend, Anthony Wright:
Some of us here in St. Louis are planning to get together once a month to get some stuff together for Jim and send him a package. If anyone wants to help or add anything, just let me know. Thanks,
WRIGHT, ANTHONY D (ASI)
Please drop Miss Hetty a line and tell us who, and what, we've missed. And how about a report (photos welcome) of YOUR special celebration?
+ LETTERS TO THE EDITORS?
Thank you so much for including us in your wonderful Bulletin! You all do a terrific job! Although I don't know where some of you find the time! Keep up the good work!
P.S. I'm glad to see Miss Kitty writing again!
JoAnne and Wes Sigman
South Haven, MN
What a lot of great introduction sketches! Dan Mellon seems like a charming fellow and what a nice family! It was great to see the faces behind Mitzi's letters and meet Kjirsten's parents at the same time. Leona's was fun, too.
I also liked your Matriarch essay a great deal. What a neat photograph! You look like my sister Patty!
I'm glad you found a writer as good as Larry; he is certainly an asset to our talent pool! Thanks to both of you super editors for bringing us The Bulletin.
St. Cloud, MN
Editor's Note to all: We are plumb out of Introductory sketches. Have you done yours?
Looks good! The Bulletin arrived this aft... Interesting what others write ... some newer ones too, so makes it fun. Isn't this the greatest thing for you to do for pastime? Surely makes for good use of time for you when you are confined so much.
Elaine (Anderson) Wold
I loved how you wrote about Grandma Mellon. Just wonderful! What a neat way to tell us all about our great and great, great grandparents! It would be wonderful if you'd do some more of those.
Marlene (Anderson) Johnson
Long Lake, MN
I loved your memories on Grandma Mellon! Very well done! I liked reading it from your childhood perspective; that was fun.
Donna (Anderson) Johnson,
I enjoyed the brief history of New York City, especially the history of Wall Street (Bulletin #134 -- sorry I'm a little slow!). Jerrianne, we lived near a tiny town in Montana called Rapalje, the same name as your ancestors.
Great to see your photo, Genelle! Greetings from your long lost playmate. Do you remember when you, Donnie, Sharon, and I spent a Sunday afternoon out by Smith Lake north of Don and Dorothy's place?
To: Donna Johnson, from one of the friends Donna sends The Bulletin to...
Happy Anniversary. 11 years, not bad... I have almost 35 years. In May it will be 35. I was hoping you would write something in your Bulletin... Maybe next time.
Your dad is a good writer. He has good things to read. I never told you this, but I enjoyed his letter about the snow storm November 11.
Thanks for The Bulletin.
Howard Lake, MN
Dinner At Grandma's
from Barb Dewey, Ashby, MN
Little Logan and his family were having Sunday dinner at his Grandmother's house. Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served.
When little Logan received his plate, he started eating right away.
"Logan, wait until we say our prayer," his mother reminded him.
"I don't have to," the little boy replied.
"Of course you do," his mother insisted, "we say a prayer before eating at our house."
"That's at our house," Logan explained, "but this is Grandma's house and she knows how to cook."
To search a name in Who's Who or Who's Where: click on the link to open the page, then use CONTROL F on a PC or COMMAND F on a Mac. To search for a second occurrence of the name, use CONTROL G on a PC or COMMAND G on a Mac. (This works on ANY web page with text, unless the text is converted to an image. Chances are, it works in your e-mail, too.) HINT: Search by first name only, as most entries list the family name once but do not repeat the last name for each family member. In Who's Where you can search on state or city names, too.
THE STAFF OF THE BULLETIN
QUOTATION FOR THE DAY: Sometimes the best helping hand you can get is a good, firm push. -- Joann Thomas
EDITOR'S POLICY: If you wish to subscribe to The Bulletin, simply send me a statement of that fact. If you wish to keep receiving it I hope you will contribute to one of the columns that are running in this family epistle (at least occasionally!). My e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org
This Bulletin is copyright Dorothy M. Anderson; the contents are also copyrighted by the authors and photographers and used with their permission, and the contents are not to be used for any commercial purposes without the explicit consent of the creators.