Sunday, July 31, 2005
Browse The Bulletin archive index
A thrilling ride on the midway at the Fergus Falls fair...
Day to Day R
With Donna Mae
Caity zooms down the giant slide....
Last saturday, a very HOT afternoon, we loaded Caity and Jayce into the van and headed for the Fergus fair. First we toured the buildings, starting out with the children's petting zoo. On to the next building, which had huge turtles, assorted beautiful birds, and even a kangaroo and camel! Wandered through the 4-H area, admiring the home canned produce, handmade clothing, all the various projects people had labored over -- quite an assortment of things!
Then on to the Midway! Grandpa Beaver was very sweet and bought each of them a wristband, which gives unlimited rides, instead of so much per ride. It proved to be an excellent idea and they used it until Beaver and I were tired!
Jayce ran loops from the bottom of a slide, into the funhouse doors. He absolutely loved it! They had to wind their way among walls of glass (with more than one head bumped, while we watched, thinking it was an open area), up stairs, past the funhouse mirrors and down a slide. He ran until I had to take him and wash him down, dirty and sweaty and very happy. Then he'd go back and do it all over again. Beaver and I took turns watching him.
Caity went through it several times with him, but then she ventured on to bigger and better -- the long slide, the glider ride, scrambler and a ship that swung huge loops, scaring me, as she looked as though she'd fly right out (so much space between her and the lapbar!). They also rode in the bumper cars (with bigger kids), enjoyed the merry-go-round several times, once on the balloon and train rides. Later in the evening we topped off the day with some fair food and the kids ended the evening with an ice with combo flavors. They got to add their own ... hmm, it was an interesting taste!
Thanks to Grandpa Beaver for a very fun outing!
Caity & Jayce in the funhouse and riding on the train.
The Matriarch Speaks W
by Dorothy (Dake) Anderson
An Explanation ... more about ...
A family member has asked me if I intend to do an introduction to the other members of my oldest son's family... It is like this: Don and Patty will be doing their introduction as soon as they can get their thoughts together.... Eric and Leona have each done an introduction which you can read in the About section of the The Bulletin web site. We will also see that you get to meet Zach. (If you let the page load completely, it will most likely scroll to the right place automatically.)
Now for the story behind the introductions for Kristin and Lexie. Don tried, but he told me he just couldn't do it, so he found the pictures and I offered to do my best to let you all know about those two lovely family members that we lost nine years ago. (We've added some more photos to their page.)
I hope you do not think I am in any way playing favorites. Our present daughter-in-law, Patty, is so lovely and compassionate that I can say about her as I did about Kristin: "Everybody Loves Her!" And I expect you will be introduced to her before very long!
Lexie & Kristin, 1989
Who Is This?
Let's Play a Guessing Game: Whenever it is handy to do so we will run a picture of someone of the subscribers or staff members of our e-magazine. Tell us who you think it is -- we will let you know who was the first to guess it right -- and the correct guess -- in the following week's Bulletin.
(Send us some to run; we will line them up in our staging area to take their turn.)
How many can you identify?
Answers to last week's mystery pictures (click here to review them):
Well, I thought I'd send my answers, as this time it's not a guess. (I was off with the Sarah guess, but not too bad guessing the daughter for the mother. :-)
These would be the Millers: Sharon, Duane and Steve. Then the whole family, Steve, Sharon, Duane and my dear Aunt Blanche and Uncle Jim.
I guess the first picture is of Beaver's siblings...and the second photo is the charming Jim and Blanche Miller family!
My guess on the pictures is the first one is Sharon, Duane and Steven Miller
and the second one is Blanche and Jim Miller
in the front row and in the back the three children: Steven, Sharon and Duane.
By Larry Dake
I was losing faith. We were homeless, jobless, and removed from friends and family.
Before we left Minnesota, I still hadn't received my paycheck from my five weeks of employment, driving long haul truck. Now, in a phone call to the trucking company we were told, for the second time, that the check was "in the mail."
In addition to finding a place to park our burdensome trailer, we needed to find an address for my paycheck to be forwarded to. The check would buy us a "little" time.
(In fact, the check would not arrive for several more months, but we didn't know that then.)
I decided to pay a visit to the shoe repair shop, which I had expected to manage when we set out for Portland. Perhaps the new owner would be hiring help. We crossed metropolitan Portland from Troutdale to Beaverton. Beaverton was a bustling suburb. The shop was located there in a busy mall.
It was a tiny shop, but it had a lot of foot traffic passing by. It was a fast paced business that did only while-you-wait work. They glued thin soles right over the old ones, popped on heels, and stitched rips. The new owner was there learning the trade from the Asian lady that I had intended to work for. He said, "No," he would not be hiring.
I had read of a family run shoe factory in the town of Scappoose. It was called "The West Coast Shoe Company." They made high quality, heavy duty boots for loggers. We discovered, on the map, that Scappoose was only about 30 miles northwest of Beaverton -- across the Cornelius Pass.
The narrow paved road across the pass wound up and down and all around through the dense forest. We had to pull to the side of the road frequently to allow the speedy and impatient local traffic to go by.
When we arrived in Scappoose, we were in a different world. Scappoose was a small, old, town near the Columbia River. We liked it a lot. We stopped at The West Coast Shoe Company, and they said their business had been decreasing in size for years, and, "No," they didn't foresee hiring anyone.
Sherry happened to recall that Scappoose was the mailing address of Fern, a minister who had been in Sherry's home area when Sherry was a kid. Even though Sherry hadn't seen Fern for many years, we decided to attempt to look her up. Fern would certainly remember Sherry's family.
The street address was on an address list we had amongst our things. We found the address and proceeded to drive around Scappoose trying to find it. And eventually, in the hills above the town, we did find it!
In Sherry's words, in a letter home several weeks later, she said, "We found [the place], up in the most beautiful hills we've ever seen."
And it did seem like paradise! The forest we had driven through was lush and green. Little creeks and waterfalls laced the hillsides and gurgled under the road. Every suitable surface was covered with thick, spongy moss. Wisps of moss even hung from the tree tops.
The sun was peeking through the mist and the clouds onto a picturesque little farmplace on the right-hand side of the road. There was a barn and several Holstein steers were grazing near it.
A silver haired man, of sturdy build and small stature, was out mowing the wet grass around the modest farmhouse. The house was up on the hill above the road. There was an embankment below it, near the end of the driveway. I parked the car under the embankment.
We were now out of sight of the house and yard.
We looked like vagabonds! And our car looked it, too. Sherry put together groceries for our meals, nursed the baby, and changed its diapers -- in the car. The kids took naps and played in there. We studied maps and read the ads in there. And we were very aware that within hours we'd likely all be trying to sleep in there.
Probably behind some gas station somewhere!
Our trailer's brown canvas tarp was soaked and dirty with road spray. The trailer was clearly overloaded. It had a spare tire hanging on one side, a shoeshine chair tied up on top, a camping cooler strapped to the draw-bar, and camel bells swinging behind. We not only looked like vagabonds, we were vagabonds.
"Well..." I turned and looked at Sherry. "You can go to the door!"
"No. It's not like Fern is going to be here!" Sherry said. "She probably doesn't even get her mail here anymore. Besides, I don't know what to say."
"Just ask if they know Fern," I said. "And see what they say."
"Come with me, then."
"No. Take Amy," I said. "Sarah and I will stay here and watch the car."
Sherry walked up the driveway and out of sight, holding Amy in her arms. I "hid" in the car with Sarah.
She knocked on the door and a short little lady with gray hair and a happy face opened it. She was wiping her hands on her kitchen apron. The man that had been mowing walked over to the door, too. He was wearing bib overalls.
"Hello," said the lady.
"Hello," said Sherry.
"Howdy. Howdy," said the man.
Sherry asked, "Is Fern here?"
"No, but she's coming for supper!" they answered in unison.
"Oh really! I knew Fern in Minnesota when I was a kid. She stayed with us."
"Oh really!" the cute couple responded.
"My name's Sherry. We're in the process of moving to Oregon -- and finding a job," Sherry explained.
"Well! Did you walk all the way from Minnesota?" joked the man.
"No. My husband is parked out on the road. Our other daughter is with him."
"Well, don't be shy! Tell them to drive on in!" said the man.
"We have a trailer," Sherry said.
"Let's go see," said the lady. "It can't be that big!"
"Oh, by the way, my name is Jim. And this is Edith. She's my sweetie," said the man. "What's your little one's name?"
"This is Amy," said Sherry.
They all shook hands. Then, and with eager steps, Jim and Edith led the way out to the car where Sarah and I were introduced.
"Can you stay for supper?" Jim asked. "Fern and Bonnie are coming."
"We-l-l..." I glanced at Sherry, "Yes-s -- I think we could do that."
"Drive on up to the house!" Jim said. "There's plenty of room in the yard."
"Okay," I said.
"Can you spend the night with us?" Jim asked.
"Well ... maybe," I said. "We didn't have any special plans for the night." Inside, I was jumping up and down with glee.
"Well, good! We're happy to have you," he said. "If you'd like to unhook your trailer, you can back it in right next to that little white shed over there."
While Jim helped unhook the trailer, Sherry went in with Edith to help put supper on.
When she walked into the kitchen, she saw Fern and Bonnie's mail laying on the kitchen table. On top of the pile of letters was an unopened one from "Myrtle," a minister of ours back in Minnesota! In fact, Myrtle was the one we had called to let know we were moving to Oregon.
When Sherry saw Myrtle's name on the envelope, she "knew everything was going to be all right!" And it was. We had just met two of the finest people we have ever known.
Jim and Edith, Sherry and Amy, several weeks after our arrival.
The Bolivian Beat
By Kjirsten Swenson
Photo Editor's Note: Kjirsten returned from Bolivia to enter medical school at Baylor University in Houston, after a reunion with her family in Dickinson, North Dakota. She reflects on her two years in South America for The Bolivian Beat this week -- the last of this nifty column. Kjirsten, we've loved your reports from "down South" and we wish you the very best in this next stage of life.
Kjirsten at open air market, left, and dining in Peru, right.
The Top 10 Reasons I Should have Stayed in Bolivia
Cochabamba was eternally pleasant, neither hot nor cold. In Houston, I've been cooking slowly, steamed in my condo as I try to survive without air-conditioning for a few days.
Strolling along bustling streets in Latin American cities was infinitely pleasant. Biking through traffic-clogged Houston is nearly fun, if I can see through the sweat dripping in my eyes well enough to avoid the monster SUV's trying to smash me.
Even the largest of Latin American cities are compact, and cheap, relatively efficient transportation took me everywhere that was too far to walk. In contrast, Houston sprawls perpetually, mile upon mile of concrete and stalled traffic. I hate that.
100 bananas cost a dollar there instead of forty cents per pound. And they taste better, too.
Time was relative there, and rarely a commodity. Now I'm always late, and concerned about spending, wasting, and losing time, concepts that don't exist in rural Bolivia.
The city sidewalks are empty, eerily quiet here. Where are all the people? I miss the hustle and bustle of busy sidewalks crowded with vendors and pedestrians and life.
Oddly enough, I'm feeling rather overwhelmed by all of the choices in our demanding consumer societies. Frankly, I feel silly ordering a grande decaf skim iced hazelnut latte. In South America, my coffee certainly never had more than one adjective. And it took me hours to buy my groceries! Veggie broth in a can or carton? But wait, that brand's low sodium but it does cost more ... hmm ... what about organic? Only in America!
I long for the public places, the city plazas and markets, where people gather to converse, to protest, to play.
I'd do anything for a cup of homemade coconut cinnamon ice milk sold on warm days by a friendly cholita near one of Cochabamba's bridges.
Because I miss them! How I'd love to have tea and a conversation with Karina, Francisca, Luis, Erika, and many other friends who are suddenly far away!
Kjirsten's casera (market vendor), left; her Bolivian familia, right.
But I didn't stay, and despite my longings I'm glad to be where I am. So this is how I got here: after a few fantastic weeks of trekking in Peru, I commenced a series of eight flights that would eventually deposit me in North Dakota.
First stop was Bolivia, which I was relieved to find stable after a few particularly tumultuous weeks that ended in the resignation of the president and next two in line. I was left with just one night to say goodbyes to my Bolivian family and dearest of Bolivian friends.
Leaving the country I love was not easy. As you know, the people, culture, and landscapes of Bolivia are precious to me and have impacted me so very much, in ways I couldn't possibly convey. I think of my friends there every day and know I'll return someday.
But before I had time to realize what was happening, my plane was landing in Miami and the next phase of my life commenced. And as hard as it was to leave, returning home is always joyful. It was wonderful to spend time with my family and see some dear friends after being away for so long. There was no time to be nostalgic or reflective, as the following few weeks were a flurry of condo shopping in Houston, unpacking at home, and repacking for the big move.
Moving in was abusive, to put it mildly. Incomplete floor installation, broken air conditioning, a root canal, a flat tire, a faulty phone line, are just several of a mountain of headaches I've had to resolve during the week before orientation. But at least my mom was here to help pound together mysterious pieces of IKEA furniture in the middle of the night. Now the awful week of moving in is over, and most of the problems have been resolved, or at least have solutions in sight.
This week I've been very busy with orientation at Baylor College of Medicine each day and settling into the condo during free moments. I'd been far too busy to be excited or apprehensive, but now I'm thrilled to be starting medical school. I've already met several classmates who share my interests in international issues in medicine, especially cultural issues and immigrant healthcare in the United States. So here begins life's next journey! I'll keep you updated, Kjirsten
Kjirsten with her sister, Aunika, in North Dakota.
London taxicab to the rescue.
London: Planes, Trains & Automobiles
(Part 2 of 2)
By Weston Johnson
Maple Grove, MN
As I described last week, the London transit system is a labyrinth of trains, tubes and buses. Getting from Point A to Point B requires some combination of a good tour guide, a good map and some good luck. Nonetheless, on the Saturday when Kristie and I had to catch our flight home, we assured Ben that we could make it to the airport on our own, saving him from wasting a good portion of his Saturday riding to the airport and back.
Our flight left at 1 p.m. and Ben figured it would take about an hour and a half to get to the airport. I was hoping to make it there a couple of hours before our flight time, to account for the long walk from the tube station to the terminal and any unexpected delays in the check-in and security lines. I tend to get a little bit nervous when it comes to possibly missing a flight, and I really didn't care to spend the entire day at the airport trying to figure out how we would get home from London if we missed our flight.
After eating breakfast, packing and saying our goodbyes, we left Ben's place at about 10, which we figured would get us to the airport by 11:30. Not quite the two hour cushion I was hoping for, but close enough. We made our way to the nearest train station and took a train to the Embankment Station, where we were to transfer to the District Line tube, which would take us most of the way to the airport before we would transfer to the Piccadilly Line for the last leg of the trip.
After arriving at Embankment, we started walking to the tube platform, but we began to notice a conspicuous lack of people heading in our direction. Maybe the station isn't very busy on Saturday, I thought -- until we reached the entry gate and saw a sign posted: District Line Closed for Repairs. I checked my watch and began to wonder how long this was going to delay us. We asked a transit employee how we were supposed to get to the airport from here. He explained that if we just walked down that hall to the exit on the left, walked two blocks north, took a right and continued to...
My mind wandered off as I realized that attempting to follow his directions to the nearest tube station would result in us lugging what seemed like a ton of suitcases through the rain that had begun to fall, and may or may not get us to the airport in time to catch our flight (especially if we made any wrong turns, which we almost certainly would).
My nervousness about catching our flight was beginning to turn into panic as I envisioned us spending the entire day and night at the airport waiting for a standby flight. I could feel the veins on my neck beginning to protrude as I noted that it was now about 10:45 and tried to calculate how much time we had to get to the airport to allow us to get through ticketing and security.
We came to the conclusion that our best bet was to catch a taxi to the airport, sparing us the burden of finding our own way to the airport. After a stop at the ATM, we flagged down a taxi and said, "To the airport, good sir!" Then, "By the way, how long is this going to take?" He thought it would take about 45 minutes, assuming there was not much traffic, of course. However, when Kristie and I considered the fare that would probably be charged for a 45 minute cab ride, we began to have second thoughts about this plan.
We checked our trusty tube map and decided it would be best to have him take us to the nearest Piccadilly Line station, from which we could catch a tube directly to the airport. We then embarked on an excruciatingly long taxi ride that made me wonder if our driver was lost, and why London had to have such long stoplights. Finally, we arrived at the station, paid the fare and lugged our baggage down the escalator to the tube platform.
After our taxi adventure, it was nearly 11:15 by the time we caught the tube that would bring us to the airport. After about 10 minutes, I was beginning to relax, until I realized we had only made three stops since we boarded. And judging by the map, we had about 11 stops still to go. More calculations: OK, if we get there by 11:45, and it isn't too long a walk from the train station to the check-in desk, and as long as we can get through security without much trouble.
After the longest train ride of my life, we finally arrived at the airport shortly before 12. After a powerwalk to the check-in table, and a frustratingly long wait at a short but slow check-in line, we finally reached the front of the line. I handed my ticket to the airline agent, half expecting her to say, "You won't POSSIBLY make it to your gate on time!"
But to my relief, she calmly printed my boarding pass and luggage tag, then informed me that not only were we on time, but the gate from which we would depart hadn't even been assigned! At that point I felt a little silly for all the worrying I had done over the past couple of hours.
We breezed through security, then noticed the new gate assignment on the TV monitors and found our gate without any problems. Finally, we settled into our seats for the flight home. And finally, I was able to stop checking my watch!
by Don Anderson
In the Fall of 1973 I took a job with Schwartz Mfg. at the Cokato, Minnesota, location.
I was to work in the engineering Department of the new Mighty Mac skid loader, which they were starting to get ready for production. (I am not sure if I was a design engineer #1 or #2. No one ever told me. :-)
This new design loader had been bought out from a Northern Minnesota company that somehow went into receivership.
There were quite a few things that needed more time and better designs to make it possible to be successful.
Did you ever hear of a "bedtime inventor"? One who dreams up ideas during the night, but when morning comes finds the whole thing doesn't make sense.
Our department would get "prints" from the engineering department to put the thing together. But upon beginning one phase of the starting project, it become evident the design was laid out wrong.
On the large side plates that were to be welded on the sides of the machine with the bearings and shafts and roller chains running in oil. There were drilled holes to be welded shut and re-drilled in the correct places.
A good engineer has to use good sense and have an idea of what the finished project will be!
We got a model that was completed in Northern Minnesota. It was a sorry mess. Oil leaked, sprockets were misaligned, etc. The concept was good but the workmanship and engineering were bad.
Working something out on paper is not exactly the answer. I would rather get to the project right on the "work bench."
As I recall they only made a few and after a while I heard they had lots of complaints to deal with, mainly oil leaks. The hydraulic and main chassis lubrication was all in one. It proved to be a poor design, if I ever saw one.
Melroe Mfg. from Gwinner, North Dakota, has a very good skid steer loader. At the present date there are many other companies that build such.
I haven't heard of the little green Mighty Mac for a long time. Not surprising!
This and That
by Elaine Wold
I STILL LOVE CLOTHESLINES
A clothesline was a news forecast
To neighbors passing by.
There were no secrets you could keep
When clothes were hung to dry.
It also was a friendly link
For neighbors always knew
If company had stopped on by
To spend a night or two.
For then you'd see the fancy sheets
and towels on the line;
You'd see the company tablecloths
With intricate design.
The line announced a baby's birth
To folks who lived inside
As brand new infant clothes were hung
So carefully with pride.
The ages of the children could
So readily be known
By watching how the sizes changed
You'd know how much they'd grown.
It also told when illness struck,
As extra sheets were hung;
Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe, too,
Haphazardly were strung.
It said, "Gone on vacation now"
When lines hung limp and bare.
It told, "We're back!" when full lines sagged
With not an inch to spare.
New folks in town were scorned upon
If wash was dingy gray,
As neighbors raised their brows, and looked
But clotheslines now are of the past
For dryers make work less.
Now what goes on inside a home
Is anybody's guess.
I really miss that way of life.
It was a friendly sign
When neighbors knew each other best
Because of that clothes line!
Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of 5
This Week's Special Days
August 6---Heidi Kaye Johnson weds Ryan Lowell Henderson
at noon at 316 Charles Street, Long Lake, Minnesota.
This Week's Birthdays:
July 31---Tim Myron
August 6---Sully Michael Brown (1 year)
This Week's Anniversaries
August 5---Wesley and JoAnne Sigman (16 years)
August 5---Sheldon and Mitzi Johnson Swenson (28 years)
More August Birthdays:
August 7---Melanie Lehtola
Ausust 7---Weston Johnson
August 8---Erik Huseby (4 years)
August 11---Mitchell Allen Miller
August 13---Jeffrey Todd Aydelotte, Jr. (10 years)
August 16---Jason Quick
August 16---Rod McNeill
August 16---Darryl McNeill
August 19---Christopher Michael Chap
August 19---Jordan Nicole Indermark (2 years)
August 24---Becky Chap
August 24---Maggie Zeppelin (1 year)
August 25---Jeff Aydelotte
August 26---Donna Richards
August 30---Jessica Ann Myron
August 30---Ethan Wallace Horne (3 years)
August 31---Devan Alexander Seaman (3 years)
More August Anniversaries
August 9---Jeff and Twila Anderson Aydelotte (14 years)
August 15---Don and Dorothy Dake Anderson (55 years)
August 15---Russ and Diana Mellon Martin (29 years)
August 16---Eric and Leona Anderson (2 years)
August 28---Ken and Merna Morgan Hellevang (23 years)
August 30---LeRoy and Vonnie Dake (57 years)
More August Weddings
August 20---Shane Michael Swenson and Jayna Christine Lee
Hi, Miss Hetty!
Just want to share our news -- Alyssa and Angel's grandparents signed the consent for adoption a couple of weeks ago, so we will be finalizing all three kids soon! We are planning a little party; if anyone is in town, they are welcome to attend.
You are invited to join Troy and Marlee Freesemann
as they celebrate
the official addition of
Alyssa Kaylynn, Angelique Ann
and Jettison Quaid to their family.
Join us for a potluck picnic in the park...
Saturday, August 6th, 2005
11:30 - 3:00
Cliff Fen Park
120 E. Cliff Road, Burnsville, MN
RSVP (952) 707-1193
O then it is 5 years ago that I visit you!!!!! (I'm still having the cap I got 5 years ago.)
Frans de Been
Oosterhout, The Netherlands
So on the week of July 4th it was five years since Frans visited us from The Netherlands. The hat he is wearing in the picture is one he bought here then. You can read about that trip in Bulletin #110 ... and view the trip pictures in Frans's web gallery.
Frans, wearing cap from the USA, on holiday with his brother-in-law.
Miss Hetty Says
We've been busy working on the About section of the web site this week. Take it out for a spin! If your name (or your spouse's, on a joint introduction) isn't listed there, you probably need to introduce yourself to the rest of The Bulletin readers. And if your introduction has been done but you don't find a link on the index page, be sure to tell Miss Hetty!
HINT: If you let each page load completely before you try to scroll, it will most likely scroll automatically to the section you are looking for.
Also, because July is about to expire, Miss Jerrianne sent the search "spider" to index all the new pages, so the web site is fully searchable once again. Check out the search tips, too!
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?
Thanks for all your work putting The Bulletin together! I really like to "share" in all that is going on with everyone, even though I don't know them personally, but they all have to be good to be part of the "family."
The last week's "Guess Who" -- I knew our Mom Dake! But didn't know the others pictured. Glad for Steve Miller's letter and some of the information from that part. BUT, Larry left us hanging! And I am still hanging, waiting for the continuing chapter. I really like his writing and I think he missed his calling -- should be writing books!
I think the "Extended" Dake family is pretty special! And we are glad you have included us with The Bulletin. Maybe one of these days we can furnish some pictures -- I think I have one of Lou and me, but I will have to send it snail as I don't have a scanner yet. I am changing servers and as soon as it is completed, I will send you the new address.
Tom and Lou Miller
I've only made it through to the mystery pictures, just skimmed ahead to see how short this Bulletin was; I've got a lot of good reading left, by the looks of it! I already cried my way through the piece on our beautiful Kristin.
She found her way into the hearts of her patients and the doctor and nurses she worked with. They had a plaque on their counter for many years, in tribute to Kristin and Lexie, with a beautiful picture of the two of them. She had worked at the clinic I doctored at while I was living in the cities. (I can still see her standing with a smile to greet me as she called me to come back.)
So, each time I would go in they would ask how Eric and Don were doing. They also told me that her patients would cry as they spoke about her, and that the doctor she worked for there finally had to move on, as it hurt him too much to come in to work without her smiling, lovely presence. A life too short, but spoke to so many people around her; her kindness radiated to each of us, touching our hearts so.
I appreciated the tribute given to Kristin and Lexi in The Bulletin. I loved the few times I got to be with her. I remember the nice meal she made when we visited them in Maple Grove one time. So gracious!
I enjoyed the photos of Twila's kiddies. Such cute smiles they all have!
I thought trolls were Norwegian, not Irish, but he does a cool job at it!
Good job, editors and staff!
I just read an article in Smithsonian magazine noting that the 60th anniversary of V-J Day, the end of World War II, is coming up in mid-August. The article was a series of memories from various people about where they were when they first learned the war had ended, and what their reactions were at the time. It was pretty interesting to read, and I wonder whether any of the readers and contributors who were around at that time would have any stories to share on that topic?
Maple Grove, MN
Editor's Note: This sounds like an interesting idea. Memories well worth passing on to the younger generations! You send them and we will run them!
Three words come to mind -- excited and anxious anticipation!
So, as you race and sweat and toil to get this -- another fantastic issue -- off the press, we sit here with bated breaths, ready for it to arrive.
I staple it together, and peek at the first page with the famous photo right there before my eyes.
THE TROLL. Yipes!!! He gets around, that is for sure. But now that he's in Alaska, we can forget about him for a while. Imagine how hot that beard would be, and that hat -- he probably is pretty comfortable up there in the frozen north. I feel like that would be the place to be right now, myself. Can't wait to read all about it. Wonder if Miss Kitty saw him? She probably clawed him, seriously wounding him, who knows? Maybe he had catnip in that pouch on his belt. A smart move, I'd say. Making friends with Miss Kitty would simplify his life a lot. At least those little beady eyes wouldn't remind Miss Kitty of Popeye.
THE SECOND PAGE REALLY almost drew tears to these old eyes and hard old heart. Oh my goodness. THANK YOU, thank you for being so very thoughtful as to include dearest ones to my heart in your Bulletin. I will now send this and go to a more comfortable place, reading every word and studying every single picture....
It was EXTREMELY interesting from front to back. Oh, the story from Larry just makes your heart ache for them. I think of that little family and all their possessions, and money running out -- driving all over the unfamiliar streets (raining) and talking to uninterested people. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about their plight.
I loved the TREE story. So many interesting things I wouldn't have known anything about, except the work and dedication Twila had planting and watering those little tiny trees. I am so glad they are still right there, and hope they can remain.
Sounds like Popeye is a closed chapter at this point. But now Miss Kitty can continue to be number one. Seems like Jerrianne always has some rare and unusual happening to cope with. This time the tarp being swallowed up by the lawnmower. So glad she shares it all with us. She better keep her eye on that Troll, though. He is a tricky one, and very likely to come knocking on her door for a handout. Jerrianne, DON'T DO IT, or you never will get rid of him.
The Tom Bodett story was so interesting. He was only an unforgettable voice to me on the advertisements, but sounds like he really is a real person. I have been to Homer, Alaska, and would be tempted to read the book he wrote.
I can't get over how much Twila Jo's children resemble her at that age. Sounds like they're adjusting pretty easily to such a culture shock of weather and stores and prices.
Wasn't it interesting to read of Weston's story of the Tube that we just heard was blown up by terrorists in London? They are one fortunate couple to have been there earlier.
I remember Cleo Anderson -- a good friend of Adeline Karst in Fergus Falls. She and Amy were pillars in their day ... which has passed now, but we still remember and respect them for their life and example.
Thanks again for the wonderful write-up about my dear Mother, and Dad.
It wasn't hard for me to recognize the Guess pictures. Some of our dear friends ... and unforgettable days in their home come back to mind vividly. They were a stable support in so many ways: the Millers.
I better quit here -- but I get carried away after reading The Bulletin.
Betty and Roy Droel
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.
QUOTATION FOR THE DAY: The young do not know enough to be prudent, and therefore they attempt the impossible -- and achieve it, generation after generation. --Pearl S. Buck
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 email@example.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.