Tom and Mavis Morgan and family gathered at a friend's home on Leech Lake near Walker, Minnesota, on July 26-29 for their annual family get-together. All 19 family members were able to participate this year.

Photo © Ryan Hellevang
The Morgan Family, back: Marlee and Troy Freesemann, Ken, Brandon and Merna Hellevang, Jessica Nelson., Ryan Hellevang, Char and Tim Myron, Jessica and Jeff Gauderman; front : Angel Freesemann, Mavis Morgan, Alyssa and Jett Freesman, Lindsay Hellevang, Tom Morgan, Tytus and Zach Myron.

Photo © Chris Chap
Chris & Jessy's new townhouse, from the back.

Update -- new home for Jessy and Chris
by Chris Chap
West Fargo, ND

Photo © Donna Johnson
Jayce LOVED the swimming area in Glenwood.

Photo © Donna Johnson
Jayce checks out the dock.

It wasn't hard for me to identify everyone in the photo of the Dake/Miller families and "extensions," including workers Rose Noonan and Henrietta Schildt, also Uncle George and Aunt Josephine Bredeson. Judging from the size of Walter P. in Henry's arms, and me with Mom holding my hands, I'm guessing the picture was taken summer of 1946. But where, and who took it? Where was Jim Miller, or was he the photographer? He and Blanche were already married.

Glenda (Huisman) Baker
Pingree, ND

Editor's Note: I had also come to the conclusion that the picture was taken on a 1946 summer day. I based that on the fact that Lois is obviously pregnant and it would be with Carol. That is the summer I spent in the Annex of Fort Snelling, part of the polio epidemic overflow from the Sister Kenney Hospital ... and you will notice I was not with the group either. --Dorothy Dake Anderson.

What a photo! Aunt Lois, Aunt Gert, Mom (Blanche), Uncle Bill, two sister workers, with Henrietta Schildt in the back, Aunt Phoebe with Glenda, Uncle LeRoy, Grandpa Miller, Uncle Tom, Aunt Lenore with Anita, Grandma Dake, Grandma Miller, Grandpa Dake, Uncle Dick, Joy Hanson (guess!), Iver Hanson (guess!), Uncle George and Uncle Henry holding Walter with Arlin in front.

WOW! All four of my grandparents, about half of my aunts and uncles, and a start of my cousins! The only family members missing are Uncle John, Uncle Robert, and Dad (Jim) from the Millers and Aunt Dorothy from the Dakes. Not knowing the date the photo was taken, my guess is Dad had gone to the Army. The others were probably away from home working or going to school.

Six miles from sheep headquarters was a cabin and a few corrals. A flowing well filled a large stock tank there. The place was called Cow Camp. Jackson told me that upstream from the Cow Camp was a big rock covered with ancient Indian hieroglyphs. He said there was also a cave where many Indian artifacts had been found.

One quiet evening I decided to take my pup, Checker, and scout out the area. We followed the dry creek bed across the plain and up to the base of the mountain ridge that towers over Cow Camp. The rock, with hieroglyphs, was right where Jackson had said it would be; mysterious figures and designs were chipped into it -- strange animals, manlike creatures, and what appeared to be measurements of time or distance represented by arcs of planetary dots.

Near the road, several miles from these images, was another work of art chipped into a rock. A few simple lines etched by that artist brought to life the compelling image of a smiling, Scandinavian blonde -- shapely, and ready to romp. Contemporary art work, I presume.

I studied the hieroglyphs before me. Why did the art of the ancients appear so different? Why were their figures so otherworldly? Where was Pocahontas? I headed up the canyon to look in the cave.

Checker disappeared into tumbled boulders around a bend. I climbed over dead-falls and wound around rocks the size of wigwams. The canyon walls got higher and higher as the canyon got narrower and narrower. It was getting eerie in the falling dusk. A barely perceptible breath of cool air brushed my cheek. I called for Checker.

My call echoed off the canyon walls. I hiked farther and farther, calling and whistling. I wasn't finding the cave, and I wasn't finding Checker.

Darkness arrived early in the canyon and I began to think about cats. Big cats. Reluctantly, I turned back without my pup. I started picking my way down toward the open plain. I called repeatedly for him, all the while checking the angular rock ledges for the sinewy, dark form of a mountain lion. When I walked out of the canyon, I left the darkness behind; it was still dusk on the plain. Reaching my truck at the Cow Camp, I honked the horn and whistled and called, and called some more.

"CHE-E-CKER-R-R! CO-OME, CHE-E-CKER-R-R!"

Aside from my calls, everything was silent: as silent as only the desert can be. The lingering light of the sun gradually disappeared from the western horizon and the stars began to blink on. Impatient and disappointed, I started the engine and began the six-mile drive home.

Abandoning Checker to the creatures of the night, as I was, I wondered if I'd ever see him again. Maybe he'd gotten lost, or caught in a trap. Perhaps he'd fallen into the cave or been eaten by the lion. Or both.

I'd find out from Jackson exactly where the cave was and go back up in the morning to look for him. I hurried down the rough trail. It was late. Sherry would be worried.

When I drove into the yard, Checker was lying on our doorstep -- looking a bit sheepish. In Border Collie fashion, he appeared to be wondering: What took you so long?

I'll never know why he hightailed it out of the canyon. Maybe he saw a mountain lion, or the ghost of an Indian maiden.

By the time the plane reached the skies over Cleveland, night had fallen over the Great Lakes. From my window seat, I could see the lights of the city bordering the blackness of Lake Erie. Then, as the plane crossed back over the land, I began to notice glimpses of light scattered across the dark landscape. Like shooting stars, they burst into view, perceived only by the corners of my eyes, and were gone before I could focus on their source. It took a moment to realize I was seeing fireworks from 30,000 feet above.

Most appeared as tiny, singular flashes of light, perhaps the product of backyard fireworks displays. Sometimes, I could make out the distinct round shape of the type of fireworks presented at larger shows. From the ground, they must have appeared as giant, brilliant bursts of light, accompanied by a resounding boom. But from my vantage point, they were silent, appearing in miniature against the vast darkness of the earth. I imagined this is what it would look like if ants invented fireworks.

By the time the plane began its descent into New York City, the fireworks displays had begun to flame out as the hour became later. However, our pilot decided to continue the entertainment with a whole different type of light show. We approached the southern end of Manhattan, then veered north, following the Hudson River up the west side of Manhattan. From my seat on the right side of the plane, I was treated to an aerial tour of the city. The first recognizable landmark was the site of the former World Trade Center, now appearing strangely sterile, a cleaned-out hole in the ground, with no rebuilding yet taking place.

The plane continued up the river until the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building and the city's countless other skyscrapers came into view. Despite the late hour, each was still resplendent in light, with the Empire State Building's familiar summit awash in red, white and blue for the holiday.

Next, the darkness of Central Park gave way to the lights of the Bronx, and suddenly, there it was: Yankee Stadium, a diamond shimmering brightly in the night, its broad banks of lights still flooding the field on which the first Twins/ Yankees game of the series had just been completed. "See you tomorrow!" I thought as the plane hung a right toward the LaGuardia runway.

Soon I was on the ground, making my way to the baggage claim. I called Sindy to notify her of my arrival, then located my bags on the carousel. At this point it occurred to me that I now had to find someone I had never seen before, even in a picture. For that matter, Sindy had never met me either, although she had seen my picture on Coni's Caring Bridge web site.

I began wandering around, trying to appear lost, while looking for a girl who seemed to be looking for someone she did not know. My tactic worked, as soon I was approached by a diminutive Asian woman with a glimmer of recognition in her eye. "Weston?" she asked. "Yep," I replied, "and you must be Sindy."

To be continued...

This Week's Birthdays
August 5---Austin Patrick Montford (2 years)
August 6---Sully Michael Brown (3 years)
August 7---Melanie Lehtola
Ausust 7---Weston Johnson
August 8---Erik Huseby (6 years)
August 11---Mitchell Allen Miller
Happy Birthday!

This Week's Anniversaries
August 5---Wesley and JoAnne Sigman (18 years)
August 5---Sheldon and Mitzi Johnson Swenson (30 years)
August 6---Ryan and Heidi Johnson Henderson (2 years )
August 9---Jeff and Twila Aydelotte (16 years)
Congratulations!

More August Birthdays
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August 13---Jeffrey Todd Aydelotte Jr. (12 years)
August 16---Jason Quick
August 16---Rod McNeill
August 16---Darryl McNeill
August 19---Christopher Michael Chap
August 19---Jordan Nicole Indermark (4 years)
August 24---Becky Chap
August 24---Maggie Zeppelin (3 years)
August 25---Jeff Aydelotte
August 26---Donna Richards
August 30---Jessica Myron Gauderman
August 30---Ethan Wallace Horne (5 years)
August 31---Devan Alexander Seaman (5 years)

More August Anniversaries
Z
August 15---Don and Dorothy Dake Anderson (57 years)
August 16---Eric and Leona Anderson (4 years)
August 20--- Shane and Jayna Swenson (2 years)
August 28---Ken and Merna Morgan Hellevang (25 years)
August 30---LeRoy and Vonnie Dake (59 years)
August 30---Chris and Jennie Dake Horne (10 years)

Several weeks ago Steve and Marci Weiland went to a bed and breakfast for their anniversary. We took care of their girls, Shalana and Krista. When Steve and Marci came home he wrote to this place and voiced his disappointment. He said they had made the reservation in hopes that they could have an enjoyable time at their place. But upon leaving, he found the host flirting with his wife. He said, "I have the picture to prove it!"

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Thanks for the summery addition of The Bulletin ... makes you feel like you've been away without leaving home!