Sunday, September 18, 2005
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Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
A powerful kite flies over Alaska's Homer Spit.
(Scroll down to The Miss Kitty Letter for the story.)
by Dan and Gina Henderson
I know I haven't written in a very long time but I will try and update you on how Gina and I have been doing. We are back to school and it has been going fairly well. A lot better than last semester because we were planning our wedding, working, and going to school -- in other words, very busy!
This last while we have finally gotten somewhat of a routine and are balancing school, work, and other things very nicely. I am enjoying my Junior year at NDSU with classes like Thermodynamics, Tech Writing for Engineers, Circuits, Materials, and my favorite: Mechanics of Machines.
I am still working at Case New Holland and am enjoying it more each day. It has been a wonderful experience and I have learned a lot.
We also have fun with the younger kids up here. I like to get together and play volleyball with them. Hopefully we can keep playing volleyball every Tuesday because it's a lot of fun and a good break from studying. It's also fun to have Rachel up here and get to spend time with her. I was surprised yesterday to run into Chris Chap at a store here in Fargo. It was nice to talk to him a little and see how the fairly new job up here in Fargo is going. Well it's Friday today and we are heading home for the weekend. Hope this finds everybody well.
Dan & Gina Henderson
I am thoroughly enjoying my second semester of the nursing program at NDSU.
In this first month of classes, I feel like I have learned so much! My main
classes include Pharmacology, Adult Health Nursing, and Client Concepts.
So we're learning all about giving injections, putting in IVs and so much more.
Dan's great to help me study! I think he knows at least as much about IVs as I do! We have one day of clinicals at a hospital every week. It's been a great experience to learn first hand.
For fun, I'm also taking a yoga class.
Dan and I love having Rachel in town with us. Now we have another home on campus! We probably come relax at her place in between classes more than she'd like!
Day to Day R
With Donna Mae
Wyatt, Jolene and the girls were here for supper. Brooklynn is getting very vocal and walking quite a bit now, plus trying to climb on things. She even got up on the ottoman and tried to jump to the couch! I caught her and helped her across. She's going to be trying to keep up to her sister, can see that already. Rylie has gotten far less shy, so that's much more fun. She finished her small piece of pizza and drank her milk and then hinted to me how full she was and maybe wasn't it time now she had her Tootsie Roll? :-) So, of course, she got her piece of Tootsie Roll.
Jayce says he likes school, but school takes a LOT out of a guy...
The Matriarch Speaks W
by Dorothy (Dake) Anderson
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):
I will try to quickly send in a response for Who Is This? before my computer errors (back into the shop tomorrow for the second time). From left to right, both photos: Donna Anderson Johnson (my aunt "D"), Richard Johnson (my uncle), my mom -- Kathy Johnson Anderson, and "Beaver" Johnson (also my uncle). Hopefully my computer issues will be resolved soon so I can send an update.
Editor's comment: Thank you, Colette, for the complete and correct answer. The photos of all these happy looking people were provided by your aunt Jerrianne Johnson Lowther, our Photo Editor. I thought I would give you their relationship to me: Donna (or "D") is my daughter, Richard and Kathlyn are Beaver's siblings, and Beaver is my son-in-law (Donna's husband). What a nice photo -- and prompt identification!
First of all, I have to comment on the GUESS picture. It is such an excellent picture of our dear Kathy,
and that must be both brothers. Kathy had dark hair at one time!
I remember when Kathy's allergy was so bad that she could hardly tolerate living here in Minnesota any longer, so she and Arg decided to go to Alaska where her sister, Jerrianne, was -- hoping the air there would be better. She worked with Jerrianne as she drove miles and miles on her job with The Milepost
publication, if I remember right, and loved every minute of it, I heard.
MY FAULT that we soon lost track of each other. She is a very special friend, and I use a bookmark she made for me so many, many years ago every day in my Bible. The other picture looks like one of Don and Dorothy's girls, but I can't say which one.
The City Sidewalk
By Larry Dake
As I arrived downtown Portland for work each morning, I'd see people sleeping on benches, in doorways, even on the sidewalk -- often in the rain. Some huddled under pieces of cardboard or scraps of plastic. Many had collections of earthly possessions heaped into hijacked grocery carts.
I would leave my baby blue Lincoln with a parking lot attendant, who would sandwich it into a vacant city lot, bumper-to-bumper, and door-to-door, with thirty or forty other cars. Parking cost three dollars a day and I paid on a monthly basis.
From the parking lot, I walked about half a block to the shop. I was intrigued by the variety of people I would meet on the city sidewalk. I would look into their faces and try to read their stories.
Few strangers would make eye contact. However, panhandlers were the exception. Sometimes, after looking into the face of a disheveled man, I would find my hand in his clutches; and the smell of alcohol enveloping me -- as he pled, "Please man, just a quarter?"
It was difficult not to have compassion, but evident my pockets were soon emptied when I did. So, I learned not to carry any small change in my pockets. "Sorry," I could say, "I don't have any quarters."
It was a relief to open the heavy shop door and disappear inside, leaving the panhandlers behind.
The windows of the workshop were plate-glass, storefront windows. They were coated to make them into one-way mirrors. It was often humorous to watch someone rushing by on the sidewalk -- stop -- and look into the mirror to adjust his tie, or touch-up her lipstick. Little did they know that my co-worker Dale, and I, were watching from our workbenches a few feet away.
Occasionally teens would walk or skate by with green or purple hair, or faces painted white, wearing funky black clothing and unusual accessories.
In addition to the business people and the teens, there was the ever present element of the mentally ill, or drug addicted.
Ambulances arrived almost daily on our block. They came to pick up someone who had passed out on the sidewalk, or they would carry someone out on a stretcher from one of the many upstairs apartments. They entered the buildings only with a police escort.
Where we stood at our work benches, we could look across the street to an open second floor apartment window. A shirtless man often sat there. Frequently he would tie a rubber tube around his upper arm, and after finding a vein, proceed to inject himself with heroin.
At a fourth story window, on the side street of the next block, another man routinely fed pigeons on the window sill.
As the weeks passed, I watched a family of Asian folks transform a vacant store front under the heroin addict's window into a place of business. The youngest -- toddlers, up to the oldest -- grandparents, could be seen working side-by-side, day-in and day-out, on remodeling their new family business. When they were done, there was no English on the signage. Everything had been hand painted in their native tongue. It appeared to be a bar, but I never saw many visitors there.
On my hour lunch break, I would walk back to my car to eat. Walking on one such occasion, I was approaching a young man on the sidewalk, across the street from the Asian family. When I nodded a greeting to him he whirled on me as we were about to pass. He went into a racially charged tirade telling me about the expletive "gooks," and how they were taking over the city. His voice went up-and-up and he began hurling obscenities across the busy street. His eyes were wild and his voice filled with hatred. I excused myself and hastened to the fortress of my "sandwiched in" Lincoln.
When I was done with eating my lunch in the car, sometimes I would nap; sometimes I'd walk around to see the sights. On one such walk a young woman, maybe 18 or 19, rushed up to me. She had in her arms a baby, bundled-up against the cold and rainy weather.
"Please -- help me sir!" she cried desperately. "My baby needs milk -- my boyfriend left me, and I don't have any money."
Here was a real live damsel in distress! I pulled a couple dollars from my billfold and handed them to her. She thanked me and rushed away.
When I told my coworker Dale about it, he laughed at me, and assured me that I'd been duped. "She was probably carrying a doll," he said.
For several days after that I went back, on my lunch hour, to see if I could find her again. If she asks me for more money, I thought, I'll offer to go to the grocery store with her to buy some milk for her baby. Then I'll know the truth.
But I never saw her again.
Walking down the sidewalk, I was meeting a different woman. Something about her seemed unusual. Her feminine walk was exaggerated. She was wearing a red plaid skirt, high heels, and heavy make-up; I greeted her as we passed and she greeted me -- except she was a he!
Having been momentarily fooled was disgusting!
My coworker Dale laughed at this story too. He informed me that there was a whole subculture of these men, who gathered at several bars a few blocks away.
Another day on my lunch hour I watched, horrified, as a man with crutches, who had fallen on the sidewalk, shouted profanities at passers by even as he called out for someone to help him. When he tried to stand, his legs would buckle beneath him. People were walking by in both directions as though he wasn't there. No one was stopping to help him to his feet.
I couldn't believe people would really walk by like that!
But I was fearful of rushing over to help him myself. I thought, Maybe this is a time, that when in Rome, I should do as the Romans do. I walked hesitantly toward the man, but hoped desperately that someone else would help him. No one did -- until just before I got there. A middle-aged man walked out from an adjacent business place and lifted him up onto his feet. Having regained his footing, the "risen" man tottered and swayed down the street, still uttering profanities.
Back at our work benches we had a regular visitor to the one-way mirror. He was an unkempt man in dark, soiled clothing. He lived around the corner, and about half way down the block -- on a doorstep -- under the overhang of a vacant concrete and brick doorway. His snarled hair and beard were long and graying. He had a wide, flat nose, big, thick lips and thick, dark eyebrows. Sometimes he would come to the mirror just to pick his nose; tipping his head back he'd ream out his nostrils with a short, stubby finger.
More often, he'd come to visit. He'd stand almost nose to nose with his reflection in the mirror. He'd talk, and laugh, and cry. He always had his constant companion: an open bottle in a brown paper bag. Sometimes he would hold up his friend and have long conversations with it.
I always wondered, Who was he before this? Might he have been a doctor or a schoolteacher? In his misty past did he have a wife and children? What was his demon? Did he have a broken heart? Had his social drinking got the best of him? Was he schizophrenic?
In the midst of this man's conversations with himself, my co-worker, Dale, would sometimes play a mean, but funny, trick. From the inside, he would put his own face right up to the glass, nose-to-nose, eyeball-to-eyeball, with the man. Dale's face would come into the man's view and the poor guy's eyes would pop with great surprise as he stumbled backwards. He was very expressive to, and perhaps a little frightened by, this sudden vision of another man's face within his own reflection.
Sometimes Dale and I would take arm-loads of discarded artificial arms and legs, down the sidewalk, to the corner of the city block. There, he would unlock a rickety door and we'd descend down a creaky, narrow stairway into a dark, dank basement. The basement was the length of the city block, and half the width -- one cavernous room, the height of a high school gymnasium!
Dale would never venture down there alone. He had once been surprised by some "bums" who had found their way into the basement and were living there. He showed me where they'd even had a small "campfire" by burning trash on the floor.
In the basement beneath our shop, were some makeshift dividers separating off "rooms," inside which were piles and piles of arms and legs. In the dim light of a single incandescent bulb, this was an interesting collection of appendages.
On my way back to my car after work one evening, I could hear a man and woman screaming and fighting in a third floor apartment. Soon furniture, a television, and all sorts of household goods were being hurled out the apartment window. I'm not sure who was evicting whom -- but they weren't stopping to consider that there might be a pedestrian below.
My Lincoln was still "sandwiched in" when I got to the parking lot. The attendant had to shuffle cars around like pieces in some giant puzzle, until he could get mine out. By the time he got the big car onto the street, he had earned his three dollars for the day.
It was always a good feeling to get onto the freeway and to leave the city streets behind. It was about a forty minute drive along the Columbia River to our apartment in Scapoose.
Going To Basic Training
The hot and tired recruits who straggled off the bus at Lackland Air Force Base were a motley looking crew. Long hair, short hair, colorful dress clothes, blue jeans -- we would be known as "rainbows" until we were issued uniforms and turned into greenies. Dandelions in a nicely manicured green lawn couldn't have been any more conspicuous, or any less respected.
A leather-lunged Training Instructor herded us into a classroom where we picked up folders with our names on them. We slouched into desks and waited. The TI bellowed nonsensical instructions to take out some pieces of paper and put them on the floor while rearranging other pieces of paper in the folder. His directions were impossible to follow. Soon paper was scattered everywhere. Quite possibly the entire reason for this exercise was to begin the process of screwing up our permanent records forever?
In the midst of all this confusion, the TI's gaze settled on a luckless farm boy from Minnesota, whom he immediately christened "Blondie." From then on, it didn't matter who earned his ire, Blondie was the one who was going to catch it. When I managed a blasé look as he chewed me out for something the guy next to me had done, he wanted to know if I thought something was funny. I couldn't think of a single thing, so I gave him my best smile until he gave up and got back to paper shuffling.
After we finished destroying our personnel records, we were marched off to our barracks by another TI, who then told us a long list of things we couldn't do now that we were in basic training. This session concluded with a demonstration of how to make a bunk, and we were sent off to our rooms to make bunks, with inspection to follow shortly.
My two roommates and I decided that the best way to make our bunks would be to work as a team, which was a good idea except that we must have been too particular as to how we made the first two bunks, because we hadn't started on mine yet when the TI got there to inspect.
There was a paternal theory on the Johnson farm that hollering instructions saved steps and saved the trouble of telling the rest of the kids the same thing next time. I thought I was used to being hollered at, but this guy was an EXPERT! He was also not one bit interested in explanations. Did he think I had been taking a nap, or what?
Well, maybe tomorrow would be better...
To be continued...
Palm lined Lahaina Beach at sunset, Maui, Hawaii.
Kurt & Jeni's Hawaiian Honeymoon J
by Kurt & Jeni Larson
San Diego, CA
Our honeymoon in Maui was unbelievably awesome. It was more beautiful there than we could ever have imagined! A week was not enough time to soak it all in. We can't wait to go back!
Kurt & Jeni Larson looking good in Hawaii.
Potato Days Festival, Barnesville, Minnesota
by Janie Anderson
Barnesville is a small town of just over 2,000 people, but there were reports of between 15,000 and 17,000 visitors to Potato Days this year.
There are two days of fun, excitement, and competitions to participate in or watch -- nearly everything to do with potatoes! There are potato picking contests, potato peeling contests, potato sack lifting contests, etc.
And don't forget the eating! To a "good Irishwoman" like myself, it's a haven of good potato eating! A walk through the "food court" booths was a real test to willpower.
First I walked through the entire block twice to see what was offered -- potato dumplings, potato sausage, potato lefse, mashed potatoes, fried potatoes ... besides a few "out-of-place" booths offering such non-potato choices as frybread tacos, roasted corn on the cob, roast pork sandwiches, etc.
Most of those things I really like, but today was the day for potatoes! I finally settled on potato sausage wrapped in a piece of lefse -- two for the price of one! Delicious! Later in the day I selected mashed potatoes and gravy with meatballs -- again, absolutely delicious!
The Street Fair was fun to wander through -- pictures, wood plaques, handmade potholders, scarves, metal sculptures, clothing, antiques, jewelry, furniture...
In the evening was a two-hour parade. A few years ago we participated in the parade a few times as the "Dakota Unicyclists," but with five kids living in five different states and Dwight and I "retired" from unicycling, we can't get much of an entry together anymore.
We did participate in one other event -- the Car and Truck Show. McGrath Park is a large park that is just perfect to line vehicles up according to their year. Our entry was a 1968 Ford Mustang that Dwight has restored.
The Editor requested a picture to go with the Potato Days story, but I'm afraid the only picture I took was of the car in the show, so I guess that will have to do. Sorry! Next year I'll have to take more!
Photo Editor's Note: We don't have pictures, but we do have links! Here are a few more:
Potato Pancake Feed, Chocolate Festival, Antique Equipment Display, Potato Sack Fashion Show, the Miss Tator Tot Pageant, Mr. and Mrs. Potatohead contest, a plant tour, and more...
A 1968 Ford Mustang that Dwight has restored.
The Miss Kitty Letters*
By Miss Kitty
Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
Kite takes shape as air pump inflates airfoil.
Kiteboarding on Bishop's Beach, Homer, Alaska
We've been taking a few little trips around Alaska this summer and camping out in our VW camping van. We had glorious weather in Homer and Miss Jerrianne and her friend, Miss Sharon, went for a beach walk along Homer Spit. I stayed in the van because I don't care for sand between my toes, but I thought the pictures they brought back were kind of fun.
As they walked back toward the parking lot, they noticed something bright red and blue flopping around on the beach and a man dressed in black puffing away with an air pump. They weren't sure what it was, but they started taking pictures anyway, because ... well, you just never know when something's going to be interesting once you get closer.
Photos © Jerrianne Lowther
The mysterious stranger turns out to be an old friend of Miss Sharon's.
They soon saw that it wasn't an inflatable boat but a kite taking shape. And then the man laid out the strings and walked back to his camper. When he emerged a few minutes later, he was wearing a wet suit and carrying what looked a little like an oversized skateboard. But the biggest surprise was seeing that the man was close to their own age. He turned out to be an old friend of Miss Sharon's. They hadn't seen each other for about 20 years! John Sadusky, a well known Alaska windsurfer, was teaching himself a challenging sport he called kiteboarding. Not my style!
Photos © Jerrianne Lowther
It really helps to have a friend position the kite for launching.
It didn't take long for a little crowd of people, including an experienced parasailor, to gather around with advice and help to hold the kite facing into the wind and launch it. The kiteboarder practiced controlling the kite by pulling the strings to make it do his bidding. Then he waded into the water and got his feet onto the board. Whoosh! The kite provided the power he needed to pull himself erect and skim over the water. Turning was a little tricky in the stiff breeze and he wiped out a couple of times, but John is very strong and he had several good runs that day.
Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
Scenic sailing on Kachemak Bay with a stiff breeze for power.
Miss Sharon invited John to her house for supper afterwards and we had a wonderful meal of fresh halibut cooked a special way called Halibut Olympia. I happily ate my halibut served sushi style -- raw and sliced thin. Now THAT'S my style! Mmmmm! Good! I was very glad to be included. After supper, we reviewed the pictures on Miss Jerrianne's portable computer. So you see, I didn't miss a thing ... and my feet stayed clean and dry.
For more Miss Kitty adventures visit my web log:
This and That
by Elaine Wold
As I was looking through an old scrap book from my high school days, I enjoyed this anonymous paragraph. I thought it was as true today as it was 60 years ago.
A zoology professor at the U of Nebraska who makes a hobby of collecting pictures of noses says there are eight basic kinds and we don't know what they are but our eight favorite kinds of noses are as follows:
The nose that is followed by its owner.
The nose that is not poked into other people's business.
The nose that isn't kept too close to the grindstone.
The nose that isn't altogether as plain as one on a man's face.
The nose that isn't being paid through.
The nose that isn't cut off to spite a face.
The nose that isn't turned up at anything.
The nose that isn't looked down at anyone.
When these eight basic noses are brought together in one basic nose, we not only like it but the person that goes with it.
I am collecting the commemorative quarters and I am having a difficult time locating some of the Philadelphia mint quarters for: Maine, Arkansas, Michigan, Florida, Wisconsin, California and Oregon. I am also missing the Denver mint Texas. If anyone has these and wishes to trade for others, let me know. I am also willing to purchase! I enjoy doing this, but have struggled with these Philly mints!
Patty Anderson Henderson
Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of 5
This Week's Special Days:
September 22---First Day of Autumn
This Week's Birthdays:
September 19--Nathanial "Nathan" Seaman
September 21---Jessica Aydelotte (13 years)
September 24---Wyatt Johnson
More September Birthdays:
September 2---Patty Anderson
September 2---Brianna Jordet
September 2---Vicki Anderson
September 2--Stanley Wm. Dake
September 3---Jacob Mendoza Dake
September 3--Eric Printz
September 3---Charlie Quick
September 4--Wiley Nelson
September 5---Lori Chap
September 5---Genelle Mogck
September 7---Brendan Aydelotte (6 years)
September 12---Lindsay Hellevang
September 15---Shari Schweiger
September 15---Carolyn Miller Dake
September 28---Donald L. "Donnie" Anderson
September 30---Sheldon Swenson
September 1---Doug and Brianna Anderson-Jordet (1 year)
September 4---Ernie and Carolyn Miller Dake (34 years)
September 7 ---Tim and Colette Anderson Huseby (9 years)
More September Special Days
September 5---Labor Day
Dear Miss Hetty,
Hi all! :) We would like to share our photos from the wedding festivities with you. Just click HERE and then click on the photo image there to get started viewing them.
Jeni & Kurt Larson
San Diego, CA
P.S. Feel free to forward this link to people that we may have forgotten or that we do not have e-mail addresses for.
Kurt & Jeni Larson have posted wedding photos HERE.
Kurt & Jeni honeymooning in Hawaii.
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?
Click here to review last week's Bulletin
Thanks for the last Bulletin. I don't know how you do it, but they get better every time ! Need to get started on some other things, so will let this do for now and write more later.
Once again ... Bravo! I haven't written for awhile and don't ever want to get my Bulletin "discontinued from lack of activity" ... so thought I'd just say "Hi" and thank you again for all your work in the Bulletin. Never a dull copy ... and now when we don't hear about South America, we can hear about living in Netherlands! Loved seeing their version of the American New Year "Rose Bowl Parade" of dahlias instead (and the giraffes) ... need to explore those links! Thanks again and again for your diligence and time in sending out the weekly Bulletin ... one of the best parts of the weekend.
Editor's Note: You are welcome, and we love to hear your reaction. I think Frans is going to be thrilled with his account, as Jerrianne worked up all of the links to the article after Frans found the one for us. Between her work on the links and ours getting the essay and pictures to her (I even received a phone call from Frans to help straighten out where to find the pictures!) it did consume some time and effort -- but it is worth it when we hear that our readers enjoyed it!
I received The Bulletin with your beautiful and thoughtful memorial to Russ in it. I will keep it with all the wonderful cards and remembrances we received, and will cherish it. Thank-you so very much. Please continue to send me The Bulletin as it means so much to me.
Hope this finds you and yours well! I have, finally, gotten the house on the market ... sadly ... as this little place was so much Russ, that I almost feel like I'm selling Russ! It's been hard going though his things and giving stuff away and throwing and etc., but had to be done, if I'm going to move on. I can't bring myself to throw or give away his everyday shoes, glasses, and his daily schedule book ... all things that so very much identified him, so guess I may have those things until I die.
Have a good day, and hello to all.
Diana Mellon Martin
Brook Park, MN
I loved the Merry-Go-Round picture, right on the front page, loud and clear, to make all
of us of any age nostalgic. Could almost hear that music. It used to be so exciting,
but now as I watch them it seems the horses hardly are moving. A few years really make changes in us, but not in memories. Just takes a picture like that for them to all come flooding back.
I had to laugh at Larry and Sherry racing thro the underbrush trying to outrun that
laughing hyena, not realizing it was only a Laughing Hyena.
I wonder if Beaver realizes what a gifted writer he is. What an interesting account
of Basic Training! Could almost feel and hear and see the experiences he mentioned.
FINALLY, Miss Kitty comes through with a contribution. No doubt she had to stand in
line a long time to get at the keyboard. Seems Miss Jerrianne is pretty busy on it.
We have heard of the giant vegetables all our life up there in Alaska, and now we
got to actually see some of them. How could they even be good?
It was so touching to read the autograph book autographs. I remember most of them.
This is Monday evening. I should really write this after my first reading of The Bulletin,
as I'm usually so inspired and excited about all the contents and pictures. I haven't
even had time to click on one single link yet. But, by tonight I have had so many other
things pass over my brain that I can hardly dig down far enough to bring up anything
for a letter to the editors. We both enjoyed reading it, and visualizing the editors' grueling job for days and then hours putting it all together so well. Hope they know we do appeciate it, and this is just a lame, limp thanks again.
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: Those who do not know how to weep with their whole heart don't know how to laugh either. --Golda Meir
EDITOR'S POLICY: If you wish to subscribe to The Bulletin, simply send me a statement of that fact. If you wish to keep receiving it I hope you will contribute to one of the columns that are running in this family epistle (at least occasionally!). My e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org
This Bulletin is copyright Dorothy M. Anderson; the contents are also copyrighted by the authors and photographers and used with their permission, and the contents are not to be used for any commercial purposes without the explicit consent of the creators.