A Shower Of The Best Handmade Valentines Ever!

This is a photo of my bulletin board with a part of the Valentines your Editor has gotten -- proving people still "do" homemade Valentines!! Thanks to all of you! (especially from Lori, who thought this idea up -- and her Mom who organized the shower!)

The Biggest Valentine

And this is the LARGEST Valentine I have ever received, Thanks to my Sweet Hubby, Don!!

UPDATE -- winter vacation
by Don and Patty Anderson
Isanti, MN.

We returned from snowmobiling in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan last weekend. We spent five days with our "play group" in perhaps the finest lodging the U.P. has to offer. We stayed in our friend's new rental property on Lake Gogebic. Check it out at: www.mybrotherscabin.com .

It's a good thing we had great accommodations, because the day we arrived it was a beautiful 57 degrees with sunny skies. (Last 4th of July Patty and I had 49 degrees and rain on our motorcycle trip to this same spot.) Go figure, so as you might expect, the sledding was less than spectacular.

We made up for it by touring the U.P. in the Suburban. It did snow by the fourth day and we had one decent day of riding, so all in all it was considered a successful vacation!

Don & Patty -- at the little cabin in the big woods.

by Ryan Hellevang
Fargo, ND

Hello, everyone. My name is Ryan Hellevang. I am the son of Ken and Merna Hellevang and eldest grandchild of Tom and Mavis Morgan. I am currently attending the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. I'm in the business program there at the Carlson School of Management with a double major in Management Information Systems and Supply Chain Management.

I work on campus at the Social Welfare History Archives and do various archival work (which means retrieving boxes for researchers) and various computer/website tasks. I'm noticing that there are quite a few capitalized proper nouns in this paragraph.

I'm in the process of trying to find an internship for the summer. There are several prospects but I'll have to see what pans out. I have one more year after that and plan to graduate in May 2006. I have no idea what will happen next but I'm sure it will be extremely interesting in any case.

I enjoy competitive paintball and play in various tournaments throughout the year with my team, Fission. We recently placed fairly well in January at a large local tournament in St. Cloud taking 10th place out of 54 teams in our division.

I am also a ventriloquist by hobby. I still find the time to perform every once in a while when I can find a new audience that hasn't already seen my act too many times. I try to keep current with my activities by updating my web site at ShortyR19.com.


Ryan Hellevang in canoe, left; playing competitive paintball, right.

UPDATE -- and a few memories...
by Gert Pettit
Howard Lake, MN

Dear Sis, Enjoyed most this week about the Smith Lake School. I remember that I got to attend kindergarten at Smith Lake, when there was no such thing yet in Minnesota, that I know of. It was the last year the country school was open, and I think the teacher was Mrs. Peterson. She only had you, LeRoy and Gilbert attending school, so she asked Mom and Daddy if I could come also. I really thought it was fun. She had me as Queen for one day. I wore a paper crown and she gave me a nickel for my present, and I got to sit up at her desk in her BIG swivel teacher's chair.

The library is what I really liked. It was at the back of the school room, across, seemingly, the whole back wall. There were full length doors that were made with wire so that you could see the books. The one that I read (looked at, I should say) which I still claim today as my all time favorite book, was THE STORY OF FERDINAND (The Bull). As I remember, when you entered the front school door, the door to the classroom was to the left, and the upstairs door to the right. Gordon Mullens wasn't a real nice boy, as I recall; wasn't there something like him putting a live snake head into his mouth?

Old buildings have always been so special, fun, and interesting to me. As old as I am, when an old weathered barn or house comes into view, I would give, as the old saying goes, my right arm to stop and wander through it.

I guess that is why the old farm buildings at home were so great to me. Why climb the inside ladder to get up in the cow barn haymow? Lot easier going outside and climbing over the milkhouse roof and then in through the big haymow door.

The same with going into the corn crib; the front door just wouldn't open that well, always quicker to climb the back of the corn crib, then jump down to the floor.

I'm not ashamed to say a little tear was shed when the old horse barn at the farm was "laid to rest" this winter. Son-in-laws Brian and Charlie "laid it to rest," but not as easily as they thought they could. I informed them, that just because SOMETHING gets old and saggy, that's no sign it wants to give up just yet.

Would you have a guess how old the barn would be? Wonder if Grandpa Mellon built it, or before him? Mainly I wanted to let the cousins know that another fun thing on the old farm is no more.


If I remember correctly he did not build it, but he modernized it ... and added on the silo to the cow barn, plus he had a new well dug and a windmill and a gas engine put in to run the water system. Putting running water in the house! It was one of the first country homes in that area to have it. Dad was disappointed that Grandpa hadn't installed running water in the barns, too.


by Melanie and Eric Shockey
Oakdale, MN

We haven't been too "newsy" lately, as there's not a whole lot to say. I'm sure things will get more exciting for us in the next month or so as we prepare to move to Brookings. We plan to move there at least by March 31st. We haven't made any living arrangements there yet -- we're still hoping just the house we're looking for will come on the market soon. Otherwise, we'll move into an apartment there in the meantime.

It's been fun to get acquainted with friends and relatives through the pictures and the Updates. We look forward to The Bulletin every week.

UPDATE -- Letter from Iraq (Part 3 of 3)

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. They moved from Kuwait to a new post, Forward Operations Base (Camp) Speicher, near Tikrit, Iraq, in a three-day overland convoy of 522 miles; this is Day 3.

January 21, 2005

We left under darkness again, heading north. It was all six-lane highway. Nothing was happening for the first few hours. There were quite a few places where bridges were blown up and we had to cross a narrow Army bridge that had a guard shack by it (like they all do).

We did have to stop a few times and get into a box formation with the vehicles, kind of a "circle the wagons" kind of thing, with command vehicle in the middle, to assess the situation. One of the times, two guys claimed they saw a muzzle flash in the distance, but they were not positive. They called in for air support just to be sure and we had a Blackhawk above us in about two minutes, looking for action. Nothing came of it, though.

Around sunrise we were on the outskirts of Baghdad, (essentially like Highway 270 in St. Louis or 494 in Minneapolis). One of our turns was an on ramp from one highway to another. The first vehicle called back that they missed the exit, so the first six vehicles missed it. I told my driver to stop at the bottom of the ramp and wait for the others (including two tractor-trailers) to turn around. The time spent waiting there was pretty scary; everywhere you looked there were examples of violence; there were craters everywhere on the side of the road. They were black from the explosives that caused them, and a lot of the buildings around there were shot up.

That stretch is commonly referred to as "IED Alley," because of the large number of "improvised explosive devices" attacks. Luckily for us, some changes had been made to make it safer: for example, guard rails in the whole city have been removed because insurgents were removing sections and replacing them with sections lined with bombs that were impossible to detect.

That whole section of the city smelled disgusting; it smelled like burning garbage and burning tires. There was rubble and garbage and burned or bombed buildings everywhere. People around there knew that they are not to be on the road at the same time we are coming through. A few cars got on an on ramp and were next to us for a little bit, but drivers exited quickly when they looked up and saw huge, metal-lined trucks with weapons pointed in their direction, including a .50 caliber machine gun that could tear a hole in their engine block.

We had to get onto a four-lane side street as we got closer to our next fuel stop. There were a few places along this road where there were close to 100 cars lined up and people waiting in lines with gas cans. They were right on the side of the road, so that was kind of scary, just because there were so many of them to try to keep an eye on. We got to Forward Operations Base Taji (138 miles) around 0800 (8:00 a.m.) to refuel and rest.

We left around 1030 (10:30 a.m.) Toward Tikrit, the scenery got much better. There were a lot of nicer villages, mosques and a University along the road. Also there were quite a few military bases; some seemed to be run by us, and some by the Iraqis and some by other Coalition Forces. (For those who don't know, Tikrit is the home of Saddam and was where a lot of his military and security were based, so there were existing bases that we took over).

We did have an incident where we had to stop because there were a lot of US Army vehicles bunched up ahead of us. It turned out that the Engineers were making roads and were using explosives to get rid of a tree stump, so we did get to hear a pretty loud explosion. (Which was nice, because it was US doing it.)

When we got to the outskirts of Tirkit, we saw the famous picture of Saddam on the side of the wall, but it was so shot up that you could not see his face. We arrived at FOB Speicher (100 miles) around 1500 (3:00 p.m.) and received a very warm welcome from all the soldiers we passed. We are their replacements and they get to go home as soon as we take over command of the Forward Operations Base!

Welcome to Tikrit...
Welcome to Tikrit...

The Matriarch Speaks W
by Dorothy (Dake) Anderson
Alexandria, MN

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 dma49261@juno.com

This week we are starting work on the "About" section of the web site where we have room for much more biographical information and photos, a page for each family member. Mavis Morgan has written an autobiography that works very well for that purpose. We have extracted a portion of it here as a thumbnail sketch and added a link to the expanded page.

We would like to have pages for each family member, all linked together in the "About" section. We started this week with pages for Mavis Morgan and Dorothy Dake and Don Anderson, for Don and Dorothy's family and Lori Chap. Click any "About" link for the menu page. This is a big undertaking and we are pleased to have Mavis's biography to help us launch it. We'll need lots of help to fill in the links! Think about what you'd like to see on YOUR page ... photos, stories, etc.

Introducing Mavis Anderson Morgan...

Mavis Anderson Morgan
Mavis Anderson Morgan

My name is Mavis Ardel Anderson Morgan. I was born May 31, 1935, in Dwight, North Dakota, the fifth child for Harry and Cleo Berndt Anderson. The four oldest ones were Don, (the editor's husband), Elwood, Elaine and DeLoris.

When I was four and a half years old, my brother Harry, Jr. was born. That was on January 4th of 1940. He was born at our Dwight home.

A true story that goes with his birth and has been quoted over and over through the years: right after he was born I ran upstairs and I had a sneak preview of him. Immediately I ran to the stairs and shouted down, "Come, see the baby, I have already seen the baby." He was cute!

When I was just over six years old we moved to the farm 1-1/2 miles north of Dwight. Dad had bought the quarter section of land from Hannah Carlson for $6,500 in the fall of 1941. Don cut letters from wood to read "Harry Anderson" and "1941" and they were nailed to the front of the barn.

Andersons have been on the farm ever since and at present my youngest brother, Dwight (born May 17, 1945), and his wife, Janie, reside there.

On May 31, 1957, my 22nd birthday, I was married to Tom Morgan, a farmer from Hope, North Dakota, and became a domestic engineer (or housewife).

Our family: our three daughters are Merna DeLaine, born in 1960, married to Ken Hellevang and living in Fargo, North Dakota. Their children are Ryan, Brandon and Lindsay.

Next is Charlotte Ann ("Char"), born in 1962, married to Tim Myron and living at Thompson, North Dakota. Their children are Jessica, Zachary, and Tytus.

Our youngest is Marlys Joy ("Marlee"), born in 1969, married to Troy Freesemann; they live in Burnsville, Minnesota, with two little girls, Angel and Alyssa Wright.

We are very thankful for our wonderful family. We do enjoy company, so any of you who wish to come are welcome, either in North Dakota or Florida.

Click here to read the rest of Mavis's story in the "About" section of the web site. Click here for a family photo and update from the 2004 Morgan Family Annual Lake Retreat (Bulletin 115).

To Dorothy With Love, From Little Sister, Gert

This paragraph from the story Rescue 1940, from Bulletin 77, explains the history of the picture of Gert and me as kids on my Valentines from Gert

Gert and I got out the old catalogues and some scissors and cleared an area off on the big table and started choosing from the "Wish Book." First she picked a Mom; then I picked one. We carefully cut them out and then chose a Dad. After the family was all chosen, we began on the furniture for our various rooms. What fun to have a vacation -- and though we both liked school, it was great to have a break!

Thanks For The Memories ... From Gert

The Valentine with the group picture was taken at Jim and Blanche's lake home. All of the Dakes were invited for a 4th of July picnic ... and play day ... in 1986, and as you can see, many attended. Ary was there for a trip we were going to take together...

Y Happy Valentine's Day Y

Thank You, Everybody!
from: Dorothy (Dake) Anderson

What a beautiful shower I have been enjoying these last few days--
A shower of "homemade" Valentines, made by all you kind, sweet, thoughtful people!

Along with the sweet homemade ones, one that I prize became homemade with addition of photos and a message from My Dear Husband Don. It is the largest Valentine I have ever received!

And such accolades! I must share one with you:

A Valentines Day Poem
by Weston Johnson

Roses are Red Violets are Blue ~ Everyone should have a Grandma Like You!
Roses are Red Broccoli is Green ~You're the Best Grandma That I've ever Seen!
Roses are Red Carnations are Pink ~ You're a great Grandma ... at least that's what I think!
Roses are Red Oranges are Orange ~ (There aren't any words that rhyme with Orange)
Roses are Red Bananas are Yellow ~ Can you believe your grandson Is such a Clever fellow?
Roses are Red My Dad's hair is white ~ Is this poem over? No, not Quite!
Roses are Red Cherries are too ~ Happy Valentines Day from Me to You!!

Thank You!

LTD Storybrooke

A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken in the street ... it shattered like a walnut. All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough irregular stones of the street ... had dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own jostling group or crowd, according to its own size ... men [and] women kneeled down ... and sipped .... Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Keeping It Between The Lines
By Larry Dake
Part One of Three

I double parked my livestock tractor-trailer on a crowded street just off Washington Avenue. I ran into an obscure place of business to pick up a small package containing a machine part for a manufacturing company back in my hometown.

The words Livestock Hauling were painted on the doors of my truck. Earlier in the day I had put up the plywood sides on the trailer; so it wasn't evident what sort of livestock I was hauling.

Nor was it evident why a livestock truck was double parked on a busy city street in downtown Minneapolis.

When I came out from the dimly lit business, parcel in hand, I noticed passers-by studying the puddles that were forming on the street beneath the trailer.

What sort of livestock are these? may well have been the thought of the curious onlookers. The strong smell wafting from the puddles beneath the trailer had the intoxicating fragrance of a mixed drink.

Dismayed, I pushed up the roll-up door at the rear of the trailer and climbed in. Two tiers of boxes of booze had tipped over. The boxes contained many broken bottles and were leaking wine, brandy, whiskey -- alcoholic spirits of every sort. The volatile liquids were running over the aging wooden floorboards and onto the street below. The vapors inside the closed trailer were overwhelming.

Picturing crowds of confused men in tattered clothing surrounding my truck and demanding my cargo, I slammed the roll-up door shut and quickly drove away.

I had picked up the booze at a stop just prior to this one. The bumps, the up and down freeway ramps, and the stop and go of city traffic had loosened the load. Before I got my next pickup of freight stacked up against it, the two tiers of boxes had come tumbling down.

Expecting the worst, I found a pay phone and called my boss.

He said to cover up the wet floor with cardboard, finish my freight pickups, and bring the load home. He'd file a claim with his insurance company.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

Back at home he could hardly conceal his giddiness as he loaded every soggy, damp, or stained box into the back of his pickup. There were many stained boxes with unbroken bottles. His larder would soon fuel his addiction for many months to come.

Travelogue t

The Bolivian Beat
By Kjirsten Swenson

Editor's Note: Kjirsten has returned to Bolivia for a second year of independent study, 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.

Stream crossing on rocks
Kjirsten & Mitzi cross icy cold stream barefoot on rocks.

Tarzan & Jane

At our hostel there was a poster with suggestions from the local alpine organization, including such wisdom as ... If you act like Tarzan, later we pick you out of a river (not a direct quote).

There were numerous rivers and streams to cross. Sometimes that involved taking off shoes and socks and others were braved on logs, hoping Sheldon wouldn't fall in, though they probably weren't deep enough for him to drown. Of course, they were all icy cold.

Once today it involved putting a foot or knee on a rock about chest height and grabbing a branch to pull oneself up. I decided it would scrape my knee and tried my foot, but it was a tough angle. Just as I started to raise myself up I heard a little pop. I changed techniques, to my knee, and found no bodily damage after reaching safety. However, suffice it to say, I will be getting new glasses. They were in my pocket and are now very broken.

We hiked fast today with dreams of a hamburguesa, shower and stamp from the Argentine authorities in our passport before catching the bus to Bariloche. Tarzan's theory about not using deodorant in the back country, and Jane's theory about wearing underwear until it can be thrown away instead of washed, don't make us nice seatmates on buses.

I also have a new theory about burning fat while going uphill, but Sheldon and Kjirsten are sure it won't become a best seller and isn't within the laws of digestion. I'll be glad to share it over a cup of coffee!

So we are in Bariloche, the chocolate capital of Argentina, for the night. We were forced to buy chocolate at four carefully selected stores, and sample it, deciding where to buy the very best to bring home for you!

Tomorrow Sheldon and I fly to Buenos Aires for the night, Wednesday to Iguassu Falls, Thursday back to Buenos Aires, leaving for the USA Friday and arriving in Bismarck about 22 hours later.

Hasta luego!

Mitzi Swenson
(Kjirsten's Mom)

Bushwhacking Jane of the jungle grabs a handy vine
Bushwhacking (a machete would have come in handy).

The map indicates the trail is just ahead; hopefully this shortcut works. This is slow going with a pack. Jane of the Jungle contemplates swinging over obstacles with this handy vine.

Crossing a bog on logs Mud to his knees
Mud Bogging.

The next step was crossing a muddy bog. There is no other way to get from point A to point B. Kjirsten and Mitzi had sandals; Sheldon went barefoot, in freezing mud up to his knees. He was a sorry sight, but may have fulfilled a childhood fantasy ...

There are many more photos here: http://community.webshots.com/album/254685122CpCruQ

The Prince and the Tree House

The Prince and the Tree House
The Danger Rangers, Chapter 8
Story by Douglas A. Anderson-Jordet
Illustration by Brianna Anderson-Jordet

       A long time ago, when I was six and Lyndon Baines Johnson was still president, I spent a summer on my Aunt's farm that would teach me more about trust than any other three month period in my life.
       I was a skinny, milquetoast little boy with my head firmly stuck in the clouds, a perfect target for my mischievous girl cousins and their numerous pranks and practical jokes. They didn't miss a beat.
       I recall one such afternoon when my sisters and cousins and I were playing a game of "pick-up-sticks" at my Grandmother's house, which was on the same property as my Aunt's house. We were listening to Lynn Anderson's seminal country album, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, and concentrating on the game like nuclear physicists developing a new physical law.
       My sister Patty picked up the album cover, which featured a thoroughly airbrushed photo of Lynn Anderson, her golden bouffant spiraling up to heaven.
       "She's your girlfriend," she teased.
       "Is not!" I protested. Years later such an accusation would have been flattering, but not then.
       "Mm-hmm!" She insisted.
       "Is not!" I was livid.
       "Why don't you kids go out and play?" Grandma suggested.
       Then we found ourselves ejected out into the lilac-scented summer air, masters of our own fate. Soon after, for some forgotten reason, my sisters had to leave and I was left unprotected with my mischievous cousins, Lisa and Stacy.
       The three of us retreated to the place we used to refer to as our "fort," which was in reality a makeshift tree house perched precariously in a giant oak in my Aunt's back yard. Stacy, my younger cousin, went up first. Then my older cousin, Lisa followed and lingered over the third step for some time before pulling herself up and over the "gate" and into the "fort." She then turned around to signal me that it was my turn to climb the steps up into the tree house, which was probably thirty feet in the air if it was an inch. I followed like the rube that I was.
       When my foot hit the third step, which was a 2X2 board nailed to the tree, the board gave way and I clung to the tree, my legs flailing free beneath me helplessly. I could hear my cousins titter like magpies.
       "Watch that third step -- it's a doozy!" Lisa said through stuttering laughter.
       At this point the younger cousin must have felt some pang of conscience, because she mercifully hoisted me up into the tree house, which was really just a collection of various scrap wood nailed to the branches of the tree.
       "The board moved," I said, catching my breath.
       "We have to go get something," Lisa said. "You wait here." Having said this, they shimmied down the tree trunk and were gone.
       Minutes passed. I waited. The whippoorwill sang in the distance.
       I waited.
       As the sun began to sink and the sky was streaked with orange, I realized that I had been "ditched."
       For those of you not familiar with the concept, "ditching" is a form of social ostracism that is commonly practiced the world over by children of every culture, and some adults as well. Maybe it has even happened to you. It entails the desertion and avoidance of a lone party by two or more other parties for the sheer sport of it. I would become something of an expert on the subject in years to come, but that is another matter entirely.
       I decided to go and give my devilish girl cousins a good talking to. I hopped over the side of the tree house with strong conviction and started down.
       Then I changed my mind.
       Sitting below the tree with patient resolve was the great and gruesome St. Bernard we called "Prince." Prince was aptly named, being as regal and aloof as an African lion, and nearly as intimidating. At the time I would have estimated his weight at about four hundred pounds, give or take, and I'm sure the woolly beast could have been ridden like a horse, if a person had a mind to do such a foolish thing.
       "Good boy," I said and retreated back into the tree house. I thought it maybe better to give my cousins a little more time to consider the gravity of their actions.
       Night fell.
       I awoke to the caress of a chilly evening breeze on my forehead. I peered over the edge of the tree house.
       No movement.
       The dog was gone. Liberty! I sidled down the thorny oak and toppled to the ground. I scoured the perimeter. The Prince must have gone back to the palace, I thought, chuckling to myself. I bolted for cover. I had made it nearly half the way between my Aunt's farmhouse and the giant oak when there came a low snarling from behind me.
       I froze.
       The Prince.
       I was dead before I had even begun to live. Flight was futile, so naturally I broke into a full run towards Aunt Gertrude's house, and might have made it, had not the tractor wheel sandbox been in the way.
       I vaulted over the sandbox heroically but could not stick my landing. When I came tumbling down on the other side, Prince was upon me, his terrible breath on my neck. I imagined his saber-like teeth sinking into my flesh and piercing my spine. Instead, I felt his powerful jaws close around my shirt and wrench it from my skinny frame.
       I leapt to my feet and took flight, half-naked and disoriented. I was nearly at the house when I discovered that Prince was not following me. He was back by the tractor wheel sandbox shredding pieces of multicolor tatters that were, of course, the stripy Dennis the Menace type T-shirt that I had been wearing. I guess it was only that particular shirt that offended him, for after it was destroyed I never had any trouble with His Majesty again.
       I crept into my Aunt's house under cover of the night and never mentioned the incident to anyone; that is, until now.

       Author's Epilogue:
       After reading this story one might be tempted to surmise that I probably have acquired a life-long fear of large dogs as a result of this experience. At the risk of disappointing all of the armchair psychologists who may be reading, I would have to assert that this simply isn't true. My current dog weighs in at almost a hundred pounds and is built like a battering ram. He is about as frightening to me as Soupy Sales. I do, however, wince when I see stripy T-shirts, which have made somewhat of a fashion comeback in recent years.

More Stories about Grandma Mellon
by Diana (Mellon) Martin

Thank you, again, for the most enjoyable Bulletin, and, specifically, the stories about Grandma Mellon! May I add a couple of stories of my own about her? Of course, my stories came from my mom and dad, when I was very young, but I have always cherished them.

One story that my dad loved to tell about Grandma, his mother, was the time when Grandpa gave my dad chores to do after school. Upset that he had to do chores rather than after school activities, my dad whined and carried on, and finally in an outburst of anger asked Grandpa what he should do after he finished the chores. Equally angry and short tempered with this upstart of a kid, Grandpa shouted back, "Just cut the tongue out of the buggy!"

Wellllllllll ....... my dad enlisted the aid of a neighbor boy, finished the chores in short order, and ....... cut the tongue out of the buggy!

When Grandpa and Grandma returned from a trip to town and saw what Dad had done, Grandpa nearly had a stroke and started to set down some severe punishment, when Grandma showed up and put a stop to the whole episode, by reminding Grandpa, that Dad had done EXACTLY as he had instructed, and not to lay one hand on the boy. Grandma, once again, won out with common sense; Grandpa stomped around for quite some time, and Dad felt pretty relieved that Grandma had come to his defense. You can imagine how carefully Grandpa worded things to my dad from that time on!


I remember sitting at the dinner table with my grandparents, possibly age 5 or 6, and being stunned to see Grandma eating her chocolate cake before her dinner! I remember telling Grandma that you NEVER eat your dessert before dinner, and she told me with a laugh and twinkle in her eyes, that she always ate her dessert first, just to be sure she had enough room for it! Imagine the problems my folks had with me after that, wanting to eat my dessert, first, just like Grandma!


Because Grandma was the most honest person I have ever known, I never doubted this next story. Grandma was particularly close to her brother, Curtis, and, in the middle of the night, one night, Grandma woke Grandpa ....... "Loni ...... Loni! Something's wrong with Curtis! I just saw him at the foot of the bed, standing in a halo of light, and he told me he just wanted to come to say good-bye." She was obviously shaken, and didn't sleep well after that.

Early the next morning, the phone rang, and sure enough, her beloved brother, Curtis, had passed away at the precise time he came to her at the foot of her bed!

Grandma Angie Mellon was a precious one-of-a-kind ...... strong, kind, loving and fun-loving. A true joy. I miss her to this very day.

Great Uncle Curtis & Grandma Mellon, left; Grandpa A.S. ("Loni") Mellon & Great Grandson Tom Mellon, right.

Tom Tells about "Our Mom"
By Tom Miller
Madera, CA

I am sending a picture of your Mom to be used in The Bulletin. We want to let the "rest of the world" see a most wonderful person! Your Mom, or I guess I should say "our Mom," 'cause she was Mom to many of us, too numerous to recall!

She will always have a SPECIAL place in my heart and memories! Do you remember how she would kid me about watching the trains going by? It must have been a boy's dream to be the Engineer or at least have something to do with the train so as to get to "ride the rails."

How could she put up with all the goings on around her house? There was seldom a day that there were not several "extras" at her table and always plenty for everyone. Sweet corn season! All of the sleeping facilities were well used and she would see that our clothes were clean and ready!

The picture I have included is one that I took of Mom Dake and my wife, Lou. It was taken at the Howard Lake Care Center where Amy lived the last several years of her life. Lou is holding up a handmade placemat that Amy had made -- and she in her 90's!

"Mom" (Amy) Dake & Lou Miller

This and That
by Elaine Wold
Wahpeton, ND

Presidents' Day

February was the month we used to observe the birthdays of Lincoln and Washington. However, now it is a day to commemorate all presidents. Here are some trivia facts on presidents.

Did you know?????

Lincoln was the first president to have a beard. His manuscript of the Emancipation Proclamation was destroyed in the Chicago Fire of 1871. Lincoln logs were invented by the famed architect Frank Lloyd Wright, as a child's toy. His image on a copper penny was first circulated in 1909. He suffered from bunions most of his life. He wore boot size 12 B.

Victims of attempted assassinations included: Andrew Jackson, Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan.

Bald presidents were: John Quincy Adams, Martin Van Buren and Dwight Eisenhower.

Millard Fillmore was a cloth maker and Andrew Jackson a tailor.

All the presidents had siblings.

Washington, Madison, Jackson, Polk, and Buchanan had no children of their own.

Football players on college teams were Eisenhower for the US Military Academy, Nixon for Whittier College, Ford for the U of Michigan, and Reagan for Eureka College.

Famous last words of presidents have been recorded too:

Franklin Roosevelt said,"I have a terrible headache."

Woodrow Wilson said, "Edith, I'm a broken down machine, but I'm ready."

Theodore Roosevelt, "Please put out the light."

Wm. KcKinley, moments before he died, was whispering the words of "Nearer, My God, to Thee."

Grover Cleveland, "I have tried so hard to do so right."

Ulysses S. Grant, "Water."

Lincoln said in response to his wife's question as to whether he thought the theater audience would mind if they held hands, "They won't think anything of it."

John Tyler, "I am going. Perhaps it is for the best."

Enjoy these tidbits. We know that anyone can grow up to be a president!

Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of
Hetty Hooper

This Week's Special Days:
February 21---Presidents' Day
February 22---George Washington's Birthday

This Week's Anniversaries:
February 26---Tim and Char (Morgan) Myron (22 years)

February Birthdays:
February 1---Kathlyn (Johnson) Anderson
February 4---Cameron Birkholz
February 6---Melody Printz
February 6---Kelli Jo Mellon (6 years old)
February 7---Rylie Johnson (3 years old)

February 28---Eric Anderson

More February Anniversaries
February 18---Roy and Betty Droel (12 years)
February 28---Junior and Doris Anderson (43 years)

More February Special Days
February 2---Groundhog Day
February 12---Abraham Lincoln's Birthday
February 8-14---National Salute to Hospitalized Veterans
February 14---Valentine's Day

Miss Hetty Says

To Our Readers:

Check out the newly expanded "About" section, which is still under construction. It's an expanded version of the Introductions. A link from that page goes to your Introduction or to a separate, expanded page with more bio information and photos. Links connect stories and photos in The Bulletin so you can hop back and forth between "About" and the Archives. Once the "About" pages are indexed (before month's end), they will also be searchable.

Have you been cruising the Archives lately? The February 2003, March 2003 and some April 2003 issues are now on line and readable. The February 2003 and January 2005 issues are now fully searchable. The March 2003, April 2003 and February 2005 issues are NOT searchable yet. That is because Miss Jerrianne can only dispatch the free search spider to index them once a month and we're not quite ready to do that for this month yet. But like they say, "Keep tuned in and we will let you in on the latest!"

Keep Us Posted!

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?

'Many Thankse

Miss Hetty


I was supposed to send you a valentine, but I can not draw on my machine and I don't have a scanner. But I must tell you how much I enjoy The Bulletin! Someone else said they can't wait until Saturday for The Bulletin -- I sit down and read it through and through.

Thanks for all of your efforts in putting The Bulletin together. It is wonderful to see and read about the ones I know. I love to hear from Carol Printz and the others from the Waco or Texas Family. Stan Dake singing?? Would I love to be there and hear that! Granpa Gandy would be very proud, too.

I enjoyed the comment of Carolyn (Miller) Dake! Yes, I too was glad for those pictures and for all of the pictures. We are all getting older and sometimes it is hard to accept the fact until the pictures reveal the TRUTH!

Greetings to all who may remember us. Oh, yes! Ask Beaver and Donna if they remember dinner at our apartment in Bonita Springs, Florida? That must have been about 10 years ago now.

Have a Great Day!

Tom & Lou Miller
Madera, CA

I want to thank my nephew Dan Mellon for his excellent profile of his family, and the great pictures! He is truly one of a kind ... smart, loving, hard working, and very much a family man. I love him dearly, and enjoy our frequent e-mails and occasional visits. Thank you, Dan!

(He was born on my 11th birthday ... so we share a birthday.)

Diana Martin
Brook Park, MN

I enjoyed The Bulletin again! The Chocolate piece reminded me of Jazmine's visit to my area of school a few weeks ago.

We walked around to visit all my colleagues. Carol gave Jazmine a pretzel, which she accepted with a smile and ate. Florence presented her with some Chex Mix with she also accepted with a smile and ate. Maria gave her a piece of chocolate candy. Maria received a HUGE smile and a hug! After she had eaten her chocolate and we were leaving Maria's office, Jazmine blew her a kiss!

Janie Anderson
Dwight, ND


A normally sweet Great Dane, Psil has one quirk: she hates United Parcel Service drivers. While walking Psil one day, around the corner of a house came a UPS man.

Struggling to keep hold of Psil, the owner trying to ease the situation said, "As you can see, she just loves UPS men."

"Don't you feed her anything else?" he responded.

Click here to find out Who's Where in The Bulletin l

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.

Click here for past editions of The Bulletin in the web archive

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QUOTATION FOR THE DAY: Every day of our lives we are on the verge of making those slight changes that would make all the difference. --Mignon McLaughlin

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 dma49261@juno.com

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.