Sunday, October 21, 2007
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Update -- Rose Naber Miller has passed on
Rose Naber Miller passed away about midnight Thursday, October 18, 2007, in the nursing home at Hutchinson, Minnesota. Rose was the widow of John Miller. All five of her daughters, Jan, Jane, Joanne, Marlyce and Marci, had been with her the first part of the month but had returned to their own residences. In addition to her daughters and their families, Rose also left three living brothers-in-law: Robert, Jim, and Tom Miller.
Mom had been quite low all week and we did not expect her to pull out of this episode, as she had several times before in the past few months ... thus, it was expected ... and we are glad for her! We five sisters were all there the first weekend of September. We attended our country school reunion together, but also a little celebration of Mom's 90th birthday. I think she knew we were her "family" but she didn't really know us individually, to put a name to us.
She was up to going out to a restaurant for lunch the first day we were there, but after that she wasn't as responsive. We five have felt so enriched by that time together ... and it was SO timely in being the last time we were with Mom. Kind of amazing how it all fit together!
Larry and Joanne [Mack], Rich and I are leaving very early Saturday morning, driving back to Minnesota. We are hoping to be there by Sunday night. The funeral is to be in Litchfield at the Johnson-Hagglund funeral home. At this time, it looks to be at 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday.
Update -- Sully Brown helps with little brother, Everett
Sully has been doing great, filling his role as a big brother for the past six months. It's amazing how much a 3-year-old can help out by getting diapers, etc. or just entertaining his little brother!
Everett is growing SO fast ... I can't believe he is already 6 months old. We are working with him on sitting up by himself. He started on solid foods, and absolutely loves it ... you can't shovel it in fast enough!
Update -- birthday at the ballpark
Being an Orange County native, Keith is a big Angels fan. So when the team made it to the first round of the playoffs, we had to get tickets. We lucked out getting four seats and invited Steven and Dad to join us. The day fell on Steven's birthday, too! We had lots to celebrate! But the celebrating didn't last too long, at least for the Angels -- the team lost the game and was eliminated from the playoffs.
Despite the loss, things perked up for us right after the game. We met up with Mom and Lisa for dinner and cake. Yum!
Update -- keeping busy with company and kitties
Mister Argyle went to Minnesota this week to visit Colette and her family but Miss Kathlyn stayed home with Diego, their big orange tabby cat, and the little lost kitty whose owners still haven't been found. Miss Jerrianne went over there almost every day to take the little kitty for a walk because he was getting on Diego's nerves -- not to mention Miss Kathlyn's.
Meanwhile, both of the ladies were having company and so they were cleaning and cooking and socializing all week long. Miss Jerrianne wasn't sure which day our friend Miss Sharon would be here; she didn't want to make a Concord Grape Pie and have it get stale if she picked the wrong day. She didn't have quite enough grapes for pie anyway, so she needed a new dessert idea.
Miss Kathlyn suggested doing something with puff pastry, so Miss Jerrianne went on the Internet to get some ideas. First thing you know, she found a recipe for Blueberries Vol-au-Vent that looked like it could be reinvented for Concord grapes ... and sure enough, it worked out great. Pepperidge Farm supplied the pastry shells and the recipe she adapted. But when it came time to make the pastry cream, their web site was down and she had to improvise.
There were lots of recipes for pastry cream on the web, but the ones she found seemed rather egg-rich and calorie intensive for this purpose. Finally it dawned on her that, with a whole cupboard full of cookbooks, most of them had perfectly good recipes for pastry cream (or Crème Patissiere, if you want a fancier term), which is basically a vanilla custard pudding. Sure enough, the Betty Crocker cookbook came to her rescue, just in time.
The pastry shells were baked, the grapes prepared and the pastry cream put in the refrigerator to chill when she got the call to meet her friends for dinner at a restaurant in midtown Anchorage. Off she went ... but when they came out of the restaurant after dinner, she saw a big puddle of anti-freeze under her van ... which was definitely not part of the plan.
While Miss Sharon took another guest back to her hotel, Miss Jerrianne called for a tow truck and then Miss Sharon returned to the restaurant and brought her home. They quickly assembled the Concord Grape Vol-au-Vent and pronounced it delicious. You can't prove it by me, because they didn't share ... but I did get my customary taste of Reddi-wip cream and that suited me perfectly. It was just exquisite -- I can attest to that.
The next day, after breakfasting on scrambled eggs with Canadian bacon and toast with chokecherry jelly that Miss Kathlyn and Miss Jerrianne had made, the guests were on their way back down the Alaska Highway. Life was soon back to normal here ... except that Miss Jerrianne kept slipping away to visit the little lost kitty, who doesn't yet have a name.
Miss Kathlyn's neighbor suggested Diego and Diablo would be a good pair of cat names. Miss Kathlyn said maybe his name should be Zorro, ("fox") and I think Miss Jerrianne favors Amigo, ("friend"), though the kitten is definitely Siamese and not Spanish. (He's too skinny to call him Phat Thai.) I've heard him called Little Brat a few times, but I don't think that one will stick. After hearing of his monkeyshines with Diego, I suggested they just call him Monkey.
The little kitty has thumb-like extra toes on his front paws ... which should enable him to climb ropes like a monkey. Miss Jerrianne said she read on the 'Net that cats with extra toes were much appreciated aboard sailing ships, where they were adept at climbing the rigging to chase after rodents ... and that Ernest Hemingway got his first six-toed cat from a ship captain from Boston.
Anyway, the little brat seems to be settling in and Diego doesn't seem so bored now that he has someone to play with (and beat up on), so I suspect it will all work out. So far, anyway, he hasn't tried to move in with Miss Jerrianne and me.
Update -- grandkittens go to the mat
by Kyra Lowther Carson
Mill Valley, CA
We got a new doormat and everybody checked it out to make sure it worked.
Photo © Ken Carson
Tabasco prefers to practice her pirouette on a Persian rug.
The Matriarch Speaks W
This manuscript was given to me during the summer. It is from a fellow polio victim. She was not a close friend of mine then -- but she and I have always kept track of one another. She and I were in treatment for polio at the same time. She had more involvement than I did, and she now has Post Polio Syndrome, as do I ... but with her it means needing assistance with her breathing, which also makes it difficult for her to talk. She sent this picture, noting that it could go in The Bulletin with the article with no identification. (Then she drew a smiling face.) She is the older of the two girls in the photo. All of her friends will know who it is -- and the rest don't know her. I send her the paper every week ... and this will pay for her subscription! --DMA
Polio, Then And Now
Dr. Jonas Salk didn't live to realize the profound impact his vaccine would have on the world's population. He died at the time when most of his colleagues still scorned his research and discoveries. Likewise, Sister Kenny's ideas of treatment for polio did not meet with a lot of medical approval; however, she persisted and time proved that her treatment with hot packs, physical therapy, and muscle re-education was the way to go. The previous medical treatment was to entomb paralyzed limbs in huge casts that would make them even more stiff than they were at the onset of the disease.
This report is on a follow-up of a victim of the 1946 epidemic, a senior at the Forest Lake High School. Though not her real name, we'll call her Jane. Jane was very aware of the raging epidemic and during the summer she refused to go swimming in Forest Lake with her siblings and friends, and she also did not enter her 4-H projects at the county or state fair, for fear of contracting polio in crowds. Yet she was the sole polio victim in the Forest Lake area at that time. So whom it strikes, or where, is nothing but a mystery, something like where lightening strikes -- yet the damages can seem like a tornado has ravished its path.
In previous times, it was known as infantile paralysis, but the epidemics surely proved that it hit the young and old. Researchers came up with a few not too conclusive theories, like the "too clean" one that suggested their immune systems had not been previously exposed to enough germs and viruses; another that it hit those who had undergone tonsillectomies, giving the virus more of an "in" to the system.
On a Wednesday at school that fall, she felt wobbly legs while going down steps, stayed home the following day, and when she went upstairs to bed that night she did not realize she was walking for the last time. Her father had to carry her downstairs in the morning. The local doctor diagnosed it a "light" case of polio that would subside in three weeks.
By Sunday, the family knew that something had to be done, so they drove her to the Sister Kenny Institute in Minneapolis. Sister Kenny herself went out to the car to assess the situation and could recognize a drastic breathing problem so she refused to admit her. They did not have room for anyone who needed an iron lung. Not knowing where to turn, they felt maybe the University of Minnesota would be the most logical. There she was admitted, even though there was no available iron lung -- or even an available room!
Jane stayed on a litter in the corridor until Tuesday, when a patient died and a respirator became available, at which time she was not conscious but "revived" when taking the first few breaths with the help of the respirator.
An iron lung, often referred to as a respirator or ventilator, is a huge, barrel-type machine (vertical) that houses the patient's narrow bed. It has a flexible rubber-type neck collar that flexes to do the breathing for the patient. Not all polio patients need one, however. The more severe type of polio, where this is needed, is called Bulbar polio. In Jane's case, she was paralyzed from the neck down and had difficulty swallowing. At first, even Jane's hands and fingers were not functioning.
The iron lung had three round doors, or portals, on each side where the nurses and therapists could reach in and do a small amount of just the necessary work with the patient. This had to be done in short spurts to limit leakage of air. At this point, everything was so very painful and gentle treatment was very important.
There was not a lot that physical therapists could do, except pointing to the muscles, tracing them, naming them and trying to get the patient to move them. There were also breathing lessons when the respirator was turned off for a few minutes and breathing was practiced. Each day the time was increased, until the patient could be off the respirator long enough to be placed in a hospital bed to get some pain-wracking physical therapy, range of motion and stretching.
Gradually, as Jane got stretched out and had the proper physical therapy and hot packs, the pain subsided and finger and arm movement was partially restored. However, back, stomach and leg muscles never were restored. Arm, hand and breathing muscles came back to a certain extent and physical therapy taught patients how to "substitute," using some muscles to work in place of the more damaged ones. It was evident that Jane must learn to cope with life living in a wheelchair.
At that time, the University of Minnesota had a research center at Rosemount. It was an old army barracks converted into a polio rehabilitation center where patients went for extensive physical therapy and rehabilitation services. The facilities were very crude but the staff was wonderful.
By the time folks were sent there, they had recovered enough to be feeling good physically and they did many innovative things to make their own fun. Many became life-long friends, bound together by unique memories known only to polio survivors. From their experiences at the University, they remembered several who did not survive as the polio epidemic also claimed many lives.
In June of 1948, the facility at Rosemount closed and patients were scattered to other rehabilitation facilities that had been made available. In Jane's case, she was admitted to Sheltering Arms Hospital in Minneapolis for two more years of treatment before being discharged, making it four years, total, in hospitals.
Young folks that were hit during school years had to make some kind of arrangement for finishing school. Jane tried to finish high school by correspondence and, as with many others, found it hard not having the competition or the class discussions; therefore, finishing took longer. However, she also later went to business college and worked in an office, married, and navigated through life in a wheelchair.
As all wheelchair-bound people find out, each person has a different set of limitations and one has to be innovative and tailor personal surroundings and equipment to one's own specific needs. No two have the exact limitations or the same needs.
Whether it is Bulbar polio that strikes, or the regular polio, it is not the sensory nerves that are affected; it is always the motor nerves. This is so very important to stress because somehow people get the idea that paralyzed limbs have no feeling. This is generally true of paraplegics who have become paralyzed from an accident involving a broken neck or back, so perhaps that is where the idea of no feeling comes from. However, post polio people experience increased sensations, especially cold. Limited amounts of exercise impair circulation, so the usual sensitiveness and chill are prevalent, as with other circulatory problems.
It is easy for post polios to get the idea that they have "had" their share of physical problems in life so shouldn't have to face the medical maladies that the rest of the population faces; however, most find out very soon that they are not immune to any of the present day physical problems. In addition to that, there is the re-visit of polio -- called the Post Polio Syndrome, PPS as it is referred to. It sneaks up so gradually that sometimes people do not realize it, or it is considered age related.
Jane used to read about people losing the ability to turn over in bed, lift their head off a pillow, get in and out of bed independently, etc. and feel she was never going to "let" this happen to her! She found out differently! She even had to resort to using a ventilator at night, when it became clear that getting enough air while reclining was just not possible. She also had to invest in a ceiling lift for transferring and has daily help from home health aides in her own home. Without this, a nursing home situation would be the only option, but folks with good minds want a place to live -- they don't want to go to a place to die!
If anyone wants to evaluate things and try to pick out the positive aspects of the polio epidemic of the 40's and 50's, one could say that it increased public awareness of the needs of the physically challenged. Architectural barriers are being eliminated, employers have experienced how valuable dependable handicapped employees are, making it possible for many to be gainfully employed -- tax supporters rather than tax burdens -- and many kinds of adaptable equipment have been invented and put on the market, etc. And, in general, the world has become more convenient for the disabled.
One complaint of all the PPS folks is the lack of knowledgeable doctors on the problems of this syndrome. After the Salk Vaccine took hold, the amount of training given to medical students on the subject was very limited. Doctors whose expertise was in polio during the epidemic have long since retired, and back then doctors didn't have enough experience to know the effects of the disease in later life.
Presently, the only known effective support group for PPS is in Florida, where the members have been very successful in getting some very outstanding doctors interested in the subject, as well as doing some research and education on the matter. Hopefully, this will spread, but better yet if future generations will have no need for it because there will be no PPS.
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.
How many can you identify?
Editors' Note: Correct guesses appear in bold face type and incorrect guesses in normal type.
Since I really missed the guess picture last time, I will try again, but this time I know for sure who those two good looking, happy boys are. They are my dear brothers, Dwight Anderson, about 5 years old, and Junior Anderson, about 10 years old. I can't recall anything about the ball but to me it looks like it could have been very recently purchased and the proud brothers wanted a picture of it. It was likely taken in the fall of the year as we can see the storm door on the east kitchen door, which means it was ready for winter.
It is interesting to note Junior's hair on his forehead, which we have not seen since the 1950's. Am I right that he has had a Heinie since the 50's? Anyway, now Grandpa Dwight has a granddaughter going on 5 years old. Congratulations, too, Grandpa Dwight (and Grandma Janie) on your new granddaughter, Greta, born on the 10th of October.
Mavis Anderson Morgan
The guess picture is Dwight and Harry Jr. Anderson ... and the place is the old house on the farmstead north of Dwight, North Dakota. This was likely taken in the late 1940's.
When I saw the picture of Dwight and his smile, I thought of what my neighbor said when I told her that Dwight was grandpa again. She answered, "I am sure he was smiling from ear to ear!"
Harry was named for our dad. He was born on a very cold, blizzardy night in 1940! I thought he would be holding a football, as that was his "favorite subject" in school! He often said that football is what kept him going to high school!
Dwight Douglas Anderson was born at the end of World War II. He was named for the famous generals Dwight Eisenhower and Douglas MacArthur. Dwight, North Dakota, is also the name of the village where we lived.
Dwight was the home of a giant bonanza farm in earlier days. The superintendent of this farm was John Miller, a New York businessman who started the farm and the beginning of the village named for him. He became the first governor of North Dakota. Our dad worked on this farm until its division in the 1930's.
It might be interesting to note that another bonanza farm, the Bagg Farm, a few miles from the Dwight farm, is being preserved and is on the National Register of Historic Sites. It is the only bonanza farm that is known to be preserved. Tours and events are held there throughout the summer months and it is a tourist attraction to our area.
Elaine Anderson Wold
My uncles, Dwight and Junior Anderson.
Donna Anderson Johnson
I love that GUESS picture this time, but have to pass on who they are. I'm sure it must be someone we might know, but I don't see any clues.
Betty Weiland Droel
Having grown up with a donkey (no, I'm not poking fun at my any of my siblings), I always wanted another one. The recent buildup of a coyote herd in our neighborhood seemed like the perfect excuse to add a donkey to our menagerie, as donkeys are known to keep predators away from cattle.
When a neighbor went into the military, his wife needed to sell her donkey so that she could move to join him. So I bought Buckles, the donkey. I should have learned a lesson from Lexie, the Border Collie dog that I brought home because her owner lived in town and the dog needed more room to roam. I was in need of a good dog to watch the cattle when I needed to drive through gates. Who ever would have thought that a Border Collie would be scared to death of cattle? But that's another story.
After keeping Buckles in the yard for a few weeks to get used to his new home, I thought it was time to try putting him with the cattle. We brought about fifty cows and their calves home from the pasture and vaccinated the calves. I intended to keep the herd close to home for a few days, so it was the perfect chance to see how Buckles and the cattle would get along.
Buckles tugged at the halter rope as I led him to the pasture gate, eager to be out of his pen and roaming free. I let him go at the gate, and he galloped toward the cattle. Some of the calves ran away, Buckles gave chase, and soon he had all the calves running as fast as they could go. This was fun!
The cows weren't impressed. To them, Buckles must have looked like a long-eared predator bent on doing bad things to the calves. The stampede was on! The whole cow herd chased Buckles, mooing angrily, dust rolling behind them. He looked awfully small with all those big cows after him, but he didn't seem a bit worried. This went on for a few minutes, and then the cows got the calves herded together and formed a tight group on a hilltop, with the calves among them. Buckles trotted saucily up to them, and a few cows ran after him. He easily outdistanced them.
After a few more little chases, Buckles learned to run slowly enough so the fastest cow could catch him. Each time, she was rewarded for her speed with a both-hind-feet donkey kick. This was developing into a full fledged donkey-cow misunderstanding.
I decided to leave for a while and see if things would calm down. When I returned after a couple of hours, Buckles was standing by himself in the shade under a tree. The cows and their calves were still gathered on the hilltop. As I watched, Buckles trotted near the cattle, enticed a few cows to give chase, gave the fastest one a good kicking for her efforts, and trotted back to his shady retreat. I doubt whether he had ever had so much fun in his entire life.
Four hours later, Buckles was still up to the same thing. I thought I would lead him back to his pen so the cattle could settle down and graze. But Buckles had decided that he was not about to let me catch him.
When I went to check the cows as the sun was going down, Buckles was back in his pen getting a drink, so I closed the gate, locking him in the pen. He's been in the yard ever since, entertaining me with his braying for treats and attention whenever he sees me.
Late this fall, when there are no calves with the cows, I'll give it one more try. If he can't get along with the cows then, I guess Buckles will have to stay home with Lexie.
A series of warm days melted the snow, leaving fourteen miles of ruts and puddles on the road to the highway. Under these conditions, it always impressed me to see the familiar, beat-up, cab-over freightliner crawling along through the mud toward sheep headquarters. It would be pulling a semi-trailer stacked high with a load of hay as fresh and green as summer.
For the driver, who was as rugged as the West, traveling these muddy trails with an eighteen-wheeler was as natural as breathing. A born rancher, he had in recent years been reduced to hauling hay for hire.
Two area lakes had risen so dramatically that their waters flooded his entire ranch -- including the family's home. On our Sunday drives to town we would see, off to our left, what remained of the wave-battered house. It stood, conspicuously isolated, far out in the lake. His ranch had been submerged for several years now; its flooded soil was believed to have been ruined by the alkaline waters. Having no outlet, the two desert lakes continued to rise, due to unusually high levels of precipitation and snow-pack on nearby Steens Mountain. They had become one lake, covering more than 150,000 acres -- making it the biggest lake in the state of Oregon at the time.
At the wheel of the truck, the driver wore the tragedy bravely on the hard lines of his face.
His son, also short-changed by the flooding, had come to work on "our" ranch. He and his wife, our neighbors Don and Ivy, managed the cattle feedlot down the road. (Ivy was Jack's daughter, sister to Jackson.)
The arrival of a truckload of hay at sheep headquarters was an "event." Most of our crew descended on the trailer to unload and stack the hay. If he didn't stop over at Don and Ivy's for coffee, the displaced rancher would be on his way back down the muddy trail within an hour.
Where In The World Is Weston? S
After my trip to Gresham in late April, I returned to the office and began working on the feasibility study for the new youth sports park envisioned by the city's Parks and Recreation Department. My experience with studies of outdoor sports complexes was rather limited, so I had a lot to learn. That fact, coupled with the client's need for a highly detailed analysis in a relatively short amount of time, made me question whether I would be able to complete the study to their satisfaction.
Over the next couple of months, as I juggled the Gresham study and several other projects, my stress level varied on an almost daily basis. From time to time I would realize that I didn't have the information I needed to complete a task, causing my gut to twist with worry, convinced I would never be able to finish the job on time. Usually, after a day or two of progress, things would settle down and return to a more tolerable level. Although the thunderstorms passed, they left behind clouds and the constant threat of more showers.
In time, the report started coming together. I was able to feed enough information to the client to keep them happy. Ultimately, the originally tight time frame for the study's completion was extended, easing the pressure somewhat. Finally, I made one last push to complete a draft of the full report, finishing the 180-page document just before I left on my trip to New York in early July.
After returning from my trip, I worked with the client to finalize the document, finally wrapping it up with a bow in early August. It was a relief to have the project completed, especially since the client seemed to be happy with the final product.
Upon completion of the study, I was invited to return to Gresham in September to meet with City Councilors and answer their questions about the study. I was to fly out on a Thursday morning and attend meetings on Thursday, Friday, Monday and Tuesday before returning home on Wednesday morning. I wasn't overly happy about being on the road for so long, especially considering the day after my return was the day I was to leave for Lake Tahoe for my friend's wedding.
On the plus side, the meeting schedule would allow me to spend a free weekend in Oregon, which would potentially give me the chance to visit my uncle Richard and his family in Lowell. When I was about 12 years old, Richard, Mia and their son Wiley, who was still in diapers at the time, paid a visit to the Johnson farm in Minnesota. I ended up riding with them back to Oregon in a bus they had converted into a camper. From my comfortable futon seat, I enjoyed the scenery as we traversed the western half of the country.
Once we reached Oregon, I spent a few days in Lowell, highlighted by an excursion on Richard's sailboat. I looked forward to the chance to renew those distant memories. Assuming, of course, that Richard and family would be home that weekend!
I e-mailed Richard and soon had a reply in my inbox welcoming me to make the drive down from Portland to Lowell. We exchanged a couple of e-mails and decided that I would drive down on Saturday afternoon and stay until Sunday before returning to the city.
On the Wednesday night before I was to leave for my trip, as I packed my bags for the Thursday morning flight, my cell phone rang at 9 p.m. The caller ID screen flashed an unfamiliar number with a 503 area code. I let the call go to voicemail, then immediately checked the message:
"Hi, Weston, it's Justin Cutler, City of Gresham. I hope you get this message before tomorrow morning. Don't get on your flight! Give me a call at..."
As it turned out, the City's political scene had been rocked that day by a controversial newspaper article about the pricing of rental housing in Gresham or some such nonsense. Because the City Council would need to deal with this unexpected controversy, the sports park report presentation had been bumped from the next Council meeting. I spent the rest of the evening making changes to a slew of flight plans and hotel and rental car reservations.
My new schedule would include only one day in Gresham -- the day after I was to make a presentation to the City Council in Sparks, Nevada, which was the day after I had originally been scheduled to return from the wedding in Tahoe. Although part of me was glad that my trip to Gresham would be shortened, I was disappointed that my long awaited return to Lowell would have to wait for another time.
To make a long story a little bit shorter, I eventually found myself on another flight to Portland. There would be no majestic views of Mount Hood this time, just darkness interrupted by the lights of small towns and, eventually, the City of Portland as my flight landed near midnight on Monday night.
I woke up early on Tuesday morning and made my way back to Gresham City Hall, where I would meet with the sports park project team for a test run of the presentation we would make to City Council that afternoon. Soon, I found myself sitting in the Council meeting, listening to citizens gripe about garbage service and Council members make important proclamations, such as the declaration of the following week as Code Enforcement Week in honor of the City's Code Enforcement Department, whose employees, the assembled crowd was assured, were doing noble and important work on behalf of the City and its citizens.
Fortunately, as my brain was threatening to shut down entirely, the sports park presentation came to the top of the agenda and I, along with several other members of the project team, moved to the front of the room for our presentation. The Director of the Parks and Recreation Department took the lead on the presentation. My only responsibility was to answer questions following the presentation. As it turned out, all of the hassle and drama associated with my second trip to Gresham culminated with me taking about 15 seconds to answer one single question from a City Councilor.
Despite its anticlimactic ending, the meeting was a success, as the Mayor and Councilors offered their strong support for the sports park project, to the surprise and relief of the Parks and Recreation staff. The Mayor was happy, the Councilors were happy, the client was happy, and most of all, I was happy that the project was OVER!
After the meeting ended, I said goodbye to the other members of the project team and ate dinner at a local pizza joint. By the time I returned to the hotel and packed my bags, it was time for bed.
The next morning, I awoke in the dark at 3:30, took a quick shower and soon was on the road back to the airport. I dropped off the rental car, then dragged the two large bags I had packed for a week spent in Tahoe, Sparks and Gresham to the terminal. Finally, I checked in for my flight, cleared security and made it to the gate in plenty of time for the 6:30 flight.
As the plane touched off from Portland in the early morning light, I found that a song was stuck in my head once again. But this time, it was not the rockabilly Loretta Lynn tune that had accompanied my travels in April. Now, as I slumped in my seat, exhausted from several hectic days of travel that capped off what had been an altogether hectic summer, the melancholy strains of Rocky Votolato's "Portland is Leaving" filled my head:
"I'm gonna stay up all night
No, I don't think so, Rocky. It only feels that way.
Celebrations & Observances
This Week's Birthdays
This Week's Anniversaries
More October Birthdays
More October Anniversaries
October Special Days
Miss Hetty's Mailbox:
Dear Miss Hetty,
Thanks so much for remembering my birthday with an e-card! No particular plans for today. Our son Sam is being married on November 3rd. There will be lots of photos and I'll send you one then. Thanks again.
Thanks for the birthday greetings! I worked from 8-7 on my birthday and then we drove to Minneapolis and stayed in a motel (got there about midnight).
The next day we drove to Hutchinson to see our new niece, Greta! Mom and Dad were there also, so that was a nice day after birthday! I turned the big 3-0 this year!
We were only there 5 hours and drove home again since I had to work on Sunday, but it was a nice little vacation!
Tami Anderson Hunt
Thanks so much for the birthday e-card. I had a nice, quiet birthday spent with Michael and the boys. They made this cake for me ... it was a Reese's peanut butter cup cake ... yum!
We will be seeing Mom and Dad and Angela's family in Abilene this weekend at Aaron's (my brother) college football game, so that should be fun!
Adriana Stahlecker Brown
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?
+ LETTERS TO THE EDITORS?
Loved The Bulletin! Made for good reading ... thanks to those who contributed!
Although I had NO idea lambing would be so awful. And, Sherry, all the work she did to keep them fed, plus help out with the lambs ... including getting sick from doing so! You deserve a standing ovation for hanging in there, Sherry!
I was glad that you'd printed my Ginger Cookies recipe in a past copy of The Bulletin, as I couldn't find where it was the other day.
So, I put "ginger cookies" in the space in the archives and it took me right to it. Love that search engine Jerrianne has set up! Amazing to me.
I now copied it into my "Favorites" cookbook (one you write in yourself ... which I hadn't done before).
Donna Anderson Johnson
Another wonderful Bulletin to keep us up to date on our great family and friends.
You who put this all together deserve a big "THANK YOU" and Betty Droel deserves much recognition for her "follow up" part. I enjoy the comments. Keep up the good work.
Last Week's Bulletin Review JKL
I was so sure I knew the first picture immediately. Of course, it was Minnehaha Falls. Then I saw the title, which was Minneopa Falls. When Roy first saw The Bulletin he said, Oh, that's Minnehaha Falls. Anyway, that was beautiful to see all that water flowing over the falls. A nice selection for the first picture. Soon it will be iced over, likely.
AND, we have yet another brand new Bulletin member, Greta Veronica Shockey. I just love following the births, birthdays, weddings and events that are continually new and interesting and changing each week. This Bulletin is truly one-of-a-kind, and I appreciate how wholesome it remains, even with weekly issues. That takes some editing, and we do have exceptional editors.
I had to smile at what Kim and Rachel found in the dumpster this time. Chairs, and four matching ones that turned out very nice after they were re-done. Where is the Blue Chair that was featured that time being lifted out of the dumpster? Wonder just where it ended up after the moves? I think we need a picture, please.
Is it three years ago that this comment was in The Bulletin? QUOTE FROM March 20, 2005, BULLETIN: Little Brooklynn got passed around amongst all the grandparents ... we share well. She managed to put up with all of us! I got to walk her around for a while, showing her all the lights. She's a little darling! UNQUOTE Now she is three years old, and each year goes faster.
Jayna and Shane keep us wondering where in the world they are now, too. What a nice picture of Shane with the honest to goodness background, not just a prop. I hope everyone took time to click on the link for a most fascinating collection of pictures as well as a story by Shane of it all. Note the meat market in Thailand. No thanks.
Thanks for putting in the pictures of the little bird in Roy's hand. That was exciting to turn the page (scroll down) and see something we had submitted. Have to keep up our subscription, you know. Now he is trapping moles, but you don't want a picture of that! He has his own homemade traps that never miss.
A person very seldom would ever get to be a part of an experience like Caity did, meeting an extended family. Can you imagine the many feelings in the heart at that time? Comparing family likenesses and of lives that have been separate. I would find it overwhelming, to say the least, but not everyone is as fortunate as I to enjoy a family such as I am a part of. Caity will spend hours on her guitar.
Tom Miller (CA) said they had been at their mountain cabin -- WHAT A TREAT! How about some details and pictures for the rest of us less fortunate Minnesota folks?
LTD Storybrooke, we are always taking a sigh of relief to see a story from you. It had been awhile since you wrote regularly. Not too many compare to your writings. This one was equally easy to visualize, and I thought I could almost smell it there that one time. What this one made me very well aware of is that you have the finest of helpmates in your Sherry. What would your life have been like if you hadn't a Sherry by your side? She seems to be able to handle anything without a hitch, and she would complement your ability to handle all the rest.
Even your little girls got into the work of it all, making for themselves lifelong memories. I don't see either one on a sheep ranch at the present time, though, so they probably had their fill. I know this is not the end of the story yet, as you still haven't left that ranch for good. That will be another interesting chapter!
The Travelogue is by Weston this time. He leads a pretty adventurous life. This time he's On the Trail to Oregon! Every story he writes seems to be a little more descriptive, and the vocabulary a little more varied (far beyond my limited one). We felt like we were in the seat right beside you, Weston, as you descended into the clouds on the way to a perfect landing. Your ability must be valued by your employer to send you on such an important project that you would oversee, rather than simply be a helper, as you had been previously.
I had to smile when I see you just happened to find a Twins game to watch. That sure took care of any idle time you may have dreaded having being there all by yourself. The "To be continued" ended this chapter, so we are expecting great things to follow.
The birthday list didn't include Anita Weiland October 4, Verlaine Weiland October 14, or Rich Weiland October 27. Rich will reach the 65 mark. Sorta scary when he used to be my baby brother. Time marches on.
McKenna is already growing beyond the baby she was just a few Bulletins ago. She and Kira will make a cute pair of playmates.
I always love reading the other LTTE's, and to see who enjoyed what the most. It's our way of being able to thank the editors for untiring work that goes into our Bulletin each week. Also we can update our subscription.
I recognized it was Larry in the CHUCKLES immediately. How come? I haven't ever seen his hair out of place, nor his glasses on, but it just had that look, and when I saw Suzanne, I knew it was her daddy -- the silver haired one.
The Quotation of Family faces being magic mirrors was thought provoking. I'm glad we have that little feature. Thanks again to our clever creative and professional Editor and Photo Editor...
from The Droels
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.
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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.