A Web Gallery Of 40 Best Handmade Valentines Photos

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Updates -

LeRoy and Vonnie Dake, March 2004

UPDATE -- Introducing LeRoy and Vonnie Dake
by LeRoy Dake
Blaine, MN

To answer the question about how I fit into the family: I am Dorothy's younger brother. She is my big sister and is privileged to call me "Bubsy." That is what everybody in our family called me until I started school.

I was born on July 5, 1928, and I am younger than my wife -- she was born July 3, of the same year (1928). Her name was Vonnie Thomas. Her folks were Mamie and Ivan Thomas. Mine were Bill and Amy Dake. She grew up near Elk River and I grew up near Howard Lake and it took us a few years to get to know each other. By the time I met her she was a registered nurse and I was learning to farm with my dad.

We were married on August 30, 1948. We farmed south of, and between, Dassel and Cokato. We have three children: Ernest LeRoy "Ernie" Dake, born May 14, 1951; Virginia Lee "Ginny" (Dake) McCorkell, who was born January 3, 1953; and Larry Thomas "LTD" Dake, whose birthdate is Dec. 13, 1955. They have all written for The Bulletin.

During the time we farmed, Vonnie was a nurse in three different hospitals. One was in the Cokato hospital. She helped take care of Dan Mellon and his mother Marcella, when Dan was born there. She thinks she remembers that Tom Mellon was born there, too -- but isn't sure of that. She also worked at the hospitals at Glencoe and Litchfield.

When farming did not make us a decent living, we moved to a set of farm buildings near Lester Prairie. I took a job with Schwartz Manufacturing there. It was a good, but noisy, job and was run by the man who started the business. We were all treated well. A conglomerate bought them out and that is when working conditions went down hill. When a friend of ours told us that Honeywell would be a good place to work, I went there -- to the old Ford plant at 5th Avenue in Minneapolis. I worked there about three years, and in several other buildings, then retired from the 103 arsenal building, in 1992.

We bought a home in Blaine and we still live in it. We made an apartment in our walk out basement area and several of the family members have lived there in their time. We still live here but lots of changes have been made. Suzanne McCorkell was the last person to live in our apartment, and to this day, every once in a while we think it must be time for her to come up and head off to work. :) She traveled a lot with us, and we really do miss her, but we know she is doing what she loves to do!

I was also asked to tell what we do for fun. Well in past days we have used our camper to do several trips to visit friends and relatives. Also I did do lots of fishing in the past. Well maybe some day I will sneak out and do just that, and yes I will take "Uncle Don" with me; I know he loves to fish. ;-)

Vonnie worked at a couple hospitals since we moved here. She did some work at Swedish Hospital, also at Unity Hospital here in Blaine. But her work load got to be too much for her as she began to feel the first effects of the diabetes, which has caused a change of life style for us. She monitors her blood sugar but needs to be watched as she slips into a coma so easy. I spend a good part of my time maintaining our home and doing the household chores. It is good we have Ginny nearby as she stays with "Mother" when I need to be away. We are privileged to have our Sunday meeting here, and also our Wednesday Bible study, which we enjoy!

We were glad to be able to get to the Dake Cousins Reunion last summer and to Convention at Eagle Bend last fall. We are mostly "stick at home people." I will try to get a Reminisce piece off one of these days.

Glad to meet you all, and I do enjoy The Bulletin.

Greetings to all,
Uncle LeRoy

Uncle LeRoy with Aunt Vonnie at Dake Cousins Reunion 2004

Dake Double Wedding Anniversary Celebration

Vonnie and LeRoy celebrated their 25th Wedding Anniversary in 1973 at a combination reception for LeRoy's parents' 54th Anniversary. LeRoy and Vonnie Dake were married August 30, 1948. Bill and Amy Dake were married on September 3, 1919. (This photo resides in About, on the LeRoy Dake page.)

UPDATE -- feedback
by Dan Mellon
Alta Loma, CA

Another great Bulletin! Of course I especially enjoyed the article by my Aunt Diana (Martin) revealing my Grandfather Everett to be a bit of a rebel. My recollection of him was being very serious and it's hard to imagine him having a wild side.

Would Everett and Daisy have moved to the city at the time Dad would have been in school, or did he (and maybe Diana) go to Smith Lake School? As I read these stories I realize I'm pretty unclear about the early years of Dad's life.

I would suppose your Dad (Roland) went to the school where your Grandpa Everett and Grandma Daisy went when they were first married. It was near Minneapolis right beside Highway 12. I believe I am right in saying that Diana went to Robbinsdale school. Your Grandpa Everett Mellon was a graduate of the Howard Lake School. I expect he did not go to Smith Lake School either -- it was a pretty poor system at that time!

My parents (Roland and Marcella Mellon) bought a new home in Crystal (at that time it was Cystal "Village," since it certainly wasn't big enough to be a town) in 1953. About a year later I started kindergarten in what I recall as a four-room school house in New Hope, and I believe it was only used for kindergarten classes at that time. About a year ago I was talking to a co-worker from one of my company's Minnesota operations and found she lived in New Hope. I asked if the schoolhouse was still there. She remembered it, but said it was long gone. Since we had never actually met, the lingering question she didn't ask was, "How old are you, anyway?"

About two years ago I was in Minneapolis on a business trip and found the old house in Crystal. The current owners are car enthusiasts who have enlarged the garage to about double the size of the house. From memory, I would have guessed that house to about 2,000 square feet. It turns out it is maybe 800 feet. It is unclear to me how five of us lived there! I suppose everything seems bigger when you're a kid.

As I walked up the driveway in a suit and tie, they scowled the way you would at an intruding salesman, as I'm sure that is what I thought I was. When I told them my parents were the original owners of the house, she said, "Your name is Mellon!" She knew the history of the four or five owners the house has had, and was able to tell me about a few of the neighbors, all deceased. They were very gracious and even invited me to stay for dinner, which I had to decline, but it was really special to be toured through the old house.

Thanks for the Valentine. Looks like you got quite a few!


by Ary Ommert, Jr.
Maassluis, The Netherlands

Last week something happened in the family that took much time. My aunt's daughter has a friend for almost 6 years. Lately he didn't feel good and some weeks ago he was checked in the hospital. Now he has cancer spread out in his liver and other organs and perhaps he has a few months to live.

Much of my free time I use to drive my aunt to her daughter to visit. They live in Hellevoetsluis and that's 30 minutes drive from here.

Here in Maassluis all is fine, not so busy in the shop at the moment. I'm waiting for my new kitchen, they told me the planning was the end of February, so it will not be too long now. Today we had some hours of sunshine but cold. Coming days will be colder with frost in the nights.


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

Last week we started work on the "About" section of the web site where we have room for more biographical information and photos. We would like to have pages for each subscriber, all linked together. We started with pages for Mavis Morgan and Dorothy Dake and Don Anderson, for Don and Dorothy's family and Lori Chap. We linked many more subscribers to articles in The Bulletin archives. Click any "About" link for the menu page. This is a big undertaking and we'll need lots of help to fill in the links! What would you like to see on YOUR web page? Do you have photos, stories, etc. that you would like to share with the other Bulletin subscribers?

Uncle Isom Runs an Errand
by Dorothy Dake

Today has been the most exciting day of my life!

It started out just as usual. Everyone had their same chores to attend to. The weather was fine and we had no special plans for the day, even though it was summer vacation.

The start of the adventure was tossed our way at dinner. Mom told us that Aunt Minnie had called. "What did she want?" was my first thought. I like Aunt Minnie -- but I knew if she called it was for something, as she didn't call to take up either my Mom's time or her own with "twiddle-twaddle."

Mom explained that Aunt Minnie was scrubbing this morning (when wasn't she scrubbing was my thought to that information) and she wanted to bake this afternoon -- but her hens had stopped laying (after all, she only has three of them) so she needed eggs and some cream. She would send change along with Uncle Isom and he promised her he would come right back with them. (How easy it is to promise -- something else to keep a promise.) He was eating when she called and would leave as soon as he had a little "shut eye."

I was upstairs doing my chores (between book chapters, that is) and the others were somewhere around!

I heard the old Chrysler come sailing down the driveway and ran down to say "Hi" to Uncle Isom. Mom got his purchases for him and we all visited a few minutes and then he hurried along so he wouldn't get in trouble with his "better half."

And we all headed back to work, as it was too early to have afternoon lunch yet.

I suppose it was about an hour later when we heard the dogs raising a ruckus -- and looked out to see someone walking down the road. Well what DO you know -- it surely looked like a beet red, rumpled up Uncle Isom to me. I headed down the steps two at a time and found my Mom helping our good uncle into the house. When everyone came running, this is the story he told us.

As told by Uncle Isom:

I thought I would be very careful crossing the Smith Lake crossing, so I pulled over to my side -- didn't want to meet a car coming over the middle. Something went wrong, though. I felt a thump and a bump and I was caught tight between the tracks. I almost think there might be a missing plank there.

My car wouldn't pull forward and I tried to back, but it was surely stuck tight! I killed 'er -- so I thought I would put 'er in neutral and get out and push it loose. But oh, my word, Bill, I heard old '95 hootin' for the other crossing. I knew I didn't have time for pushin' so I grabbed my coat off and started up the right side of the tracks. I knew I had to flag 'er down!

Well I found out today I can still run! But you know, for all the good it did me, I might as well stood where I was and just let them come to get it! That engineer was so busy watchin' for that car to move and pulling the whistle and hollerin' for the brakes that they just flew on by me -- even though I was wavin' my arms off and yellin' at the top of my lungs.

So what was there to do but to stand and watch the engineer run his big old freight right over my automobile! What a crash -- and parts went flying -- but he dragged 'er way down the road until the rest of my car finally dropped off and Smith finally got 'er stopped.

Those men piled out and jumped down, thinking to find some horrible mashed bodies to see about... But I came puffing up and they surely welcomed the news that they could sleep good tonight after all -- but I wasn't going to!

Mom Tells the Rest!

Poor old Uncle Isom. It was nice that he had someone he knew to help him fill in the papers. Since he retired, he misses the men he used to work with on the Great Northern. So Mr. Smith got the railroad inspectors called and the paperwork done and would have called for help for him -- but he just told them he would go and his nephew Bill would take care of him. And so we shall.

I am going to gather up some eggs and put the rest of the cream (we can always get some more) in a sack and tell Bill to give it to Aunt Minnie when he takes Uncle Isom home. She will need to bake in spite of all of the excitement. Even more so, being the Railroad Inspectors will be there tomorrow or the next day to get his statement and to see if the company was remiss in any way.

The kids have begged to go see the car, so after Bill takes his uncle home, I suppose we will all have to go and see the scene of the accident. What excitement for a poor old man --- 'tis a wonder he didn't have a heart attack! But he is a sturdy old man, and we are all so glad he wasn't in that car of his when it met with that monster on the tracks!

An earlier generation of matriarchs.

Gladyce (Cheney) McCleese (Uncle Will's daughter), my Grandma Greer, and Aunt Minnie (Vanderberg) Cheney. She was Uncle Isom's second wife and the mother of their two children: Bill Cheney, and Dorothy (Cheney) Benson. This picture was taken at our farm and the three of these ladies lived in or near Cokato, Minnesota, at that time, over 50 years ago. Uncle Isom is on the family reunion picture in Dorothy's birth family page in About.

LTD Storybrooke

Keeping It Between The Lines
Part Two of Three
by Larry Dake

In the absence of a breeze, the sheep on the truck could overheat. So I stopped out in the middle of the parking lot and got out to check for a breeze.

Yes, there was a southerly breeze. Heavy with humidity, it slowly wended its way out of the adjacent cornfield, through the willows, and across the scorching pavement. It slid through the slats of the stock-trailer and sauntered across the backs of the sheep.

A few sheep were already panting, but with the breeze they would be okay. For a few minutes.

Running to the truck stop door, I looked back before going inside. I saw the sun had just slipped below the horizon. The atmosphere had a hazy orange glow.

Back in a few minutes, with a bag of Doritos™, I peeked in at the sheep. They were all on their feet. Hot -- but looking well.

On an average evening, it would be about a two-hour drive from here to the South St. Paul Stockyards. I already had an hour of driving behind me. Settling back into my seat, I turned the ignition switch.

"Bzzzt. Click."

I tried it again.


And again.


I flipped on the headlights and climbed out to check them. There was only a faint glow in the filaments. My battery was dead!

Back in the truck stop I asked at the counter if there was anyone around that would jump-start my truck. I explained that I had sheep on board and needed to keep the truck moving to keep them from overheating. As luck would have it, there was a mechanic working in the locked shop.

Using a big yellow nylon rope, and his shiny new four-wheel-drive pickup, he pulled my truck around the corner to the shop and hooked up a battery charger.

"The engine won't run," he explained, "when the battery is so completely discharged."

He soon determined that the alternator was not working at all, and would need replacing. He called the owner of a parts store who lived in a nearby town. The parts guy was already sleeping, but, understanding the urgency of the situation, he said he would run down to the store to see if he had the alternator I needed.

Meanwhile, the sheep were all panting. A number had lain down. Looking in through the slats, I could feel the sticky heat inside.

It wasn't looking good.

The sheep were crowded. The air couldn't circulate well enough between them to carry away their body heat. And they were out of the breeze now, parked by the building. In about a half hour the parts guy called back to say he did not have the alternator.

I called my boss and explained the dire situation.

We decided I'd see how far I could go on the charged battery. Better to get stranded on the highway, after the cool of night set in, than stay here and almost certainly lose a few sheep.

The mechanic turned up the amps on the charger and we gave it another five minutes. I prodded the sheep around with a livestock cane to get them all back on their feet. Then I climbed back behind the wheel. The truck, lacking a muffler, roared to life in a cloud of blue smoke. The mechanic disconnected the cables and slammed the hood. With a wave of the hand, the sheep and I rolled and rattled off into the dark.

Back on Interstate 94, with the windows rolled down, I settled in for the ride. I crunched on the corn chips and was happy that the sheep were getting cooled down.

I got behind another truck, and when there were no other vehicles around, shut off the headlights to save on the battery. When the other truck exited the freeway, I flicked the lights on again. They were already getting dim!

If I could have made it past St. Cloud, there was a truck stop near Clearwater. After that, there were no more good stops (that I knew of) before the stockyards. From the Clearwater truck stop, it would still be a good hour to South St. Paul.

It was soon evident I might not make it to Clearwater. Taking great care not to kill the engine at a stop sign, I got off the freeway near St. Cloud. I stopped at several places before I found an open gas station with a battery charger.

By now the night had begun to cool a bit, and the sheep were no longer at such critical risk. I left the charger on until the needle moved into the green, and then I was back on the Interstate, rolling toward the Clearwater truck stop.

When I pulled into the truck stop, I found my third battery charger for the night. From here to South Saint Paul would be the big jump. And getting stranded with this old wreck in the Twin Cities wouldn't be a good thing, especially if the sheep were still on the side of the road when morning rush hour heated up.

This time I left the charger on for a good hour before pulling out.

It was getting late. Back on the Interstate there was little traffic. I only turned on the parking lights when other vehicles were approaching from the rear. I didn't use the headlights. It was a dark ride, except for the exit and entrance ramps, which were lit up with street lights. When I got to the edge of the cities, the ramps and their lights were more frequent. I could see and be seen.

I kept all the truck lights off for the rest of the trip. (They were getting dim anyway.) I was racing the discharging of the battery to get where I was going before the engine died!

As I approached downtown Minneapolis, I passed a carful of black guys in a rusty old Cadillac with a broken spring. They were, "Like. Look at that! Dude!"

Even at this late hour, there were still some lights on high up in the skyscrapers. But there weren't many vehicles out on the freeway, only the occasional car or truck.

It was a bit of a thrill going through the long, curving tunnel near downtown. I usually tried to go easy on the gas in the tunnel so I wouldn't get a ticket for all the noise. But this late night there was no one around. So I poured on the fuel to make sure that if the engine died in there, I could rocket well out the other end. The noise reverberating off the walls of the tunnel was deafening. It was a blast!

Streaking out the other end, it was much too dark to read the broken speedometer. If there were bears in the bushes, they didn't see me coming -- or going. I was the bullhauler's version of the Stealth Bomber.

I barreled across the Mississippi River, where I could look down and see lights on the barges below. Then I jetted right on through downtown St. Paul and banked hard to the right, onto Highway 52 South. I flew across the river again, on a high and narrow bridge; I was approaching Holman Field off to my left. The runway lights twinkled on and off. I was getting close to my destination.

The Concord Street exit was dark with trees overhanging the road. And no street lights. Tonight it felt like I was diving down into a black hole. The exit ramp there is rather steep, and requires careful deceleration. If I slowed too fast, I could easily pile the sheep up in the front of the truck. Just as I descended the ramp into the darkness, I pushed in the clutch to downshift.

"KA -- B-O-O-M!!!" The engine backfired.

And died!

If I wasn't awake before, I was now! I eased the clutch out in a lower gear, revving the dead engine back into high rpms. It rumbled back to life.

I taxied down Concord Street and pulled into the stockyards. When I backed up against the loading chute, the engine died again. But I was close enough that soon the weary passengers were safely off the truck.

It was "mission accomplished!"

The stockyard's veterinarian was there, helping to pull a downer cow from another truck. When they were done with that cruel work, I got them to pull my truck out of the way.

I curled my six-foot-four-inch frame up on the four-foot-six-inch bench seat, and went to sleep. When I woke, it was midmorning and my boss was under the raised hood, installing the new alternator. Bullhauling would go on without missing a beat.

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.

Iguassu Falls (Big Water): about 150 smaller falls, plus the huge ones.

Near Miss In Buenos Aires

It was very early, 5:20 a.m., when we left for the airport in Buenos Aires for a 7 a.m. flight to Iguassu Falls. I thought we were landing on the Argentina side, but on the way to the domestic airport, which is pretty close to where we were staying, decided to check our tickets. Oh my, we were flying out of the International Airport which is much farther away.

The taxi driver didn't speak English and he made me go inside with him to ask someone, who confirmed, "Yes, we were at the wrong airport."

I didn't know the word to drive fast but he got us to the correct airport after 6 a.m. Then he didn't know which terminal. Our ticket said Trans Aero and there was no airline named that. He stopped and went in with me to ask at the first terminal and they sent us to the second terminal.

Then he went in with us to bring us to a Delta counter a long way away, because the ticket was issued by Delta. However we were flying TAM, which I think is a Brazilian airline. A stop at the information desk finally got us to the correct counter, where there was no line.

They said, "Too Late."

I said, "No baggage," and they quickly processed us and sent a nice lady to lead us around.

Next stop: pay $18 US airport taxes, then clear security, then passport check, finally the gate, then down the stairs to get on a bus. Another passenger's ticket I could see said Washington. So back I went to confirm with a nice lady if we were at the right place. Finally we got on the bus with a few other passengers, with about 10 minutes to go.

All of this meant we were flying into Brazil, so now we had to make a plan for what to do, because our hotel reservation was on the Argentina side.

I might note that Iguassu Falls is on the border, like Niagara, and is even spelled differently in the two countries.

We did survive getting through customs with a photo and fingerprinting, because we treat the Brazilians entering the US the same way, then got cash ... luckily asking the guy in front of me what the approximate exchange rate was, because I didn't even know what their currency was called.

Sheldon got information from a nice English speaking lady. The taxi offered to take us for 10 times the bus fare but we thought a second and declined and found the bus. We were pretty relieved to find our hotel and a bus to the falls.

The falls are incredible. Eleanor Roosevelt said, "Poor Niagara" -- and she was right. They are much larger, because when it's wet there are about 150 separate, smaller falls in addition to the huge ones. It is steamy hot, 90's temperatures and humidity, too; so we sweated our way around, remembering the snow from a couple of days ago and the below zero temperatures in North Dakota!

As Kjirsten would say, every day is an adventure!

Mitzi Swenson
(Kjirsten's Mom)

Mitzi & Sheldon Swenson at Iguassu Falls.

There are more photos here: http://community.webshots.com/album/266107583sDoaBy

This and That
by Elaine Wold
Wahpeton, ND


What beautiful Valentines were made and given to the matriarch and pictured in the last edition of The Bulletin!

It brought to my memory the valentines we made as kids for our school friends . Since those were the depression years, school boards had to limit money for certain items, among them being construction paper. We brought catalogs and magazines to school to cut out hearts to decorate the valentine boxes.

I particularly remember one I made from an oatmeal box. Wallpaper was also used to make valentines. And how many can remember the woven hearts we made from scraps of paper? That is an Old Country art!

I appreciated seeing the huge valentine the matriarch received from her hubby. Yes, we know he is a very thoughtful person!

I, his little sister, sent him a valentine. I liked the verse:

I bought a box of chocolate hearts,
A present for my brother,
They looked so good I tasted one,
And then I tried another.
They both were so delicious
That I ate another four,
And then another couple,
And then half a dozen more.
I couldn't seem to stop myself
I nibbled on and on.
Before I knew what happened
All the chocolate hearts were gone.
I felt a little guilty
I was stuffed down to my socks,
I ate my brother's valentine.........
I hope he likes the box.

However, the patriarch will soon be celebrating another birthday and I will make up for it then! If the weather cooperates, we hope to get together and share another box ... unless I eat them first!

Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of
Hetty Hooper

This Week's Birthdays:
February 28---Eric Anderson
March 3---Donald Anderson

This Week's Anniversaries:
February 28---Junior and Doris Anderson (43 years)

More March Birthdays:
March 6---Jerrianne Lowther
March11---Kjirsten Swenson
March 12---Jolene Johnson
March 15---Russell Martin
March 18---Janie Anderson
March 21---Rachel Henderson
March 23---Colette Huseby
March 28---Donna Johnson

More March Anniversaries
March 20---Stanley and Janice Dake (35 years)

March Special Days
March 27---Easter
Miss Hetty's Mailbox:

Lindsay Hellevang would like to be put on The Bulletin list. I sent her the one from last Saturday already.
Her address is LinzyDawn12@aol.com

Thank you,

Just couldn't pass up the opportunity to wish you a HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

Nathan and Brenda Hill
Summer, Jazmine, and Jonathan
Wahpeton, ND

Summer, 5 years; Jazmine, 20 months; Jonathan, 6 weeks

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. The newly indexed "About" and "Archives" pages are again fully searchable. (Click on the "sitemap" link by the search window to see a list of the 250 searchable pages.)

Have you been cruising the Archives lately? The February 2003, March 2003 and some April 2003 issues are now on line, readable and fully searchable. We calculate that this monster archiving project is 82% done! Five months to go: April 7-September 7, 2003.

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 excited to see this week's Bulletin to see the Valentine's cards. I knew you'd show as many as you could. How many did you get? It was quite a write-in campaign to send you "homemade" Valentines. What a wonderful, creative family and friends you have. Looks like you'll have to rent a room, or build onto the apartment to house all the wonderful cards. Especially that HUGE one from Don. You do pretty well in the husband department, too!

Hope you had a great Valentine's Day, and have a good week as well.

The "other" Donna
Donna Richards
Eden Pairie, MN

Photo Editor's Note: We made a big web gallery to house all those valentines -- almost 40! See it here: http://www.thebulletin.ws/webgalleries/Valentines/

Great Bulletin that came in yesterday; was fun to see and read. Will try to make an update or article for The Bulletin this week

Greetings from the Netherlands,

Ary Ommert, Jr.
Maassluis, The Netherlands

To Donna from Elaine:

"I usually don't look at the Sports section in The Fargo Forum, but noticed something about a player -- Randy Moss -- being traded ... and some were interviewed. One was Wyatt Johnson, and his age was listed. Just wondered if it was your family guy?"



To Wyatt from Donna:

"So, was this you?"

Wyatt's answer:

"Yep, that was me! The Forum has this Real People Bank, which I signed up for. When they have a story they want "real people" to comment on, they send an e-mail, and I go to a web site to put in my comments. This time, I responded, and later that evening, a reporter called me and asked me a few more questions. Pretty cool!"

To Dorothy from Elaine:

"I guess that Moss is quite the player ... and show off... One day Mindy showed me what MOONING meant!!"

Ah, yes, Tom and Lou, we remember dinner with you at Bonita Springs. Fried chicken, I think it was, and very good, too. Just like Kentucky Fried. Actually, it was just over 11 years ago. I remember (and don't dare forget) because our wedding anniversary coincides with the first day we were in Florida. That year was our 0th anniversary. Didn't we go beachcombing at sunrise the next day? So much for long, romantic walks on the beach at sunset -- we were fast asleep! I'll send along a picture to prove we remember.


Tom & Lou Miller, Donna (Anderson) Johnson, Blanche & Jim Miller.


Things To Know

If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.

Only two people signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4th, John Hancock and Charles Thomson. Most of the rest signed on August 2, but the last signature wasn't added until 5 years later.

Q. Half of all Americans live within 50 miles of what?
A. Their birthplace

Q. Most boat owners name their boats. What is the most popular boat name requested?
A. Obsession

Q. If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter "A"?
A. One thousand

Q. What do bulletproof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and laser printers all have in common?
A. All invented by women.

Q. What is the only food that doesn't spoil?
A. Honey

Q. Which day are there more collect calls than any other day of the year?
A. Father's Day

In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes. When you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bed firmer to sleep on. Hence the phrase... "goodnight, sleep tight."

It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month ... which we know today as the honeymoon.

In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts. So in old England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them "Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down. It's where we get the phrase "mind your P's and Q's."

Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim, or handle, of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phrase inspired by this practice.

AND FINALLY: At least 75% of people who read this will try to lick their elbows (next week).

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QUOTATION FOR THE DAY: Being defeated is often only a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent. --Marilyn vos Savant

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