Sunday, May 11, 2008
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Update -- another beloved mother has passed away
Mother's Day is coming and this year our hearts are going out to those who are feeling the recent loss of one so dear as a mother.
As you know, Edith Anderson passed away just two weeks ago. She was Verlaine Weiland's mother and Steve Weiland's grandmother. (Click here for revised memorial with a favorite photo of Edith.) Now, this week, Marci -- Steve's wife -- has lost her mother, Darlene Veldkamp from Luverne, Minnesota. That means that Shalana and Krista lost a great-grandmother and a grandmother within a very short time. Darlene was a great-grandmother of Hunter Holman as well. I wanted to mention just the family connections that The Bulletin readers are most familiar with. (Maybe I should mention that Verlaine is Betty (Weiland) Droel's sister-in-law.) Click here for full obituary.
Extending our sympathy to your families ... sending caring thoughts your way this Mother's Day.
Update -- a new, sweet grandbaby here for Mother's Day
She arrived on May 6 by Cesarean section, three weeks earlier than expected, weighed 8 lbs., 2 oz. and is named Alexzandra Tierney Reese. She has dark hair like the rest of her siblings ... and is perfect, of course -- no mis-shaped head from being delivered the normal way, or bruising, etc. -- a very pretty baby. Of course, this grandma is not favoring my own!
I am just so glad Jullie and baby are doing well. The whole family is up there and they are in a family suite at the hospital. What a change from when I had my babies! They can all bond with the baby. Teagan can't figure out what is going on ... she is lying on the floor, sucking on her binkie, singing ... what a picture it is! Wonderful...
So I am tired today. Brenda met me in Beresford and we went to the hospital, then Hancock's fabrics, then Sam's, then home ... and fell into bed. I am so thankful it all went well. What a relief! Bryan was so tired, he was falling asleep while we were there. We didn't stay too long. Jullie looks good, but tired also; don't know just when she will come home. She wants to on Friday. I hope it's Saturday ... one day can make such a difference. I will try and make some food and take over. Well, all for now!
Update -- Gert's spring break vacation
Justin and Amanda decided to head south during spring break and asked me if I would like to make the trip with them -- of course I accepted! [Scroll down to the Travelogue section for the sightseeing part of the trip.]
The highway took us right to Gatesville, Texas, to the home of Earl and Kathleen Stahlecker [Gert's niece]. Thanks to them, we had a good night's sleep. We all went to Patricia [Gert's niece] and De's for a good supper. It had been so many years since seeing our sister-in-law, Lois. I really thank my kids for giving me the chance to visit with Lois. Janice and Jacob came out to Patricia's. Stan [Gert's nephew] was busy that evening, but he came to Kathleen's the next day to see us.
Of course, Aaron was home from school so we got to see him, too. All the kids got along so well. Sammy and Dustin were about the same age and seemed to enjoy the time together. Then, on Saturday, Kathleen and Earl's daughter had an egg hunt at their house, out in the country. They had horses and goats and cats and dogs, so the little ones had a fun time together. There was a trampoline, too, so Sam and Dusty kept that busy. We got to meet both of Kathleen's daughters and their families.
Knowing for such a short time that they were going to have company from Minnesota coming to visit, they really made us feel at home! Amanda had never met any of them before, and she remarked to Justin and me how comfortable they made her feel.
It was a wonderful trip for me. Then, when I got into my e-mail when I returned home, I had one from Ardis. She wondered if I would like to take a trip with her. How could I refuse? So we will be flying to New York; then we will go by car to Canada to visit our relatives and maybe into Massachusetts. That will be the last week in June. And guess what -- Don's daughter, Judy, lives in California and he and I and a friend will be visiting her the last week in July. Oh what a busy summer! I won't hardly have time to keep the grass mowed.
Update -- let the gardening season begin
Not a lot of news here. Thanks for those who have sent things, though; always good to hear.
Dwight stopped in before work today. Mindy stopped after work. The Baxter truck came this morning with delivery for a month's supply.
This afternoon, after my nap, Muriel took me to Emery's. Fun to look at the greenhouse. Got a few things she bought for Mother's Day. I won't have lots this year: just a few pots for the deck. I wanted Dragon Wings before they sell out ... so beautiful! Got a few pansies for a pot, too. Cute!
It's clouding up like it could rain. The lawns are so green and some are cutting today, I noticed. Hope this finds all well.
Update -- Mango learns a new song
My daughter Brittany sent me a video that she took of our bird when she was over yesterday. Let me give you a little background on our bird, Mango.
Back a bit, my daughter Amber received a phone call from her sister-in-law, who wondered if she had an extra bird cage, as she needed it for a bird she had found near her house.
Amber had a travel cage for her African Grey parrot, so she sent her husband, Bryan, over and got the bird. (His sister has two cats -- not very good companions for a bird!)
So Amber and Bryan spent the whole next month running ads in the Penny Saver, which is delivered to the whole Orange County area, and even put ads online, trying to find the owner. When no owner appeared, they decided to send the bird to my house. When Mango left, Lacey, their African Grey, was very relieved to see him move.
Our "bird man" said he doesn't sell Lilac Crested Amazons because they usually don't talk. This bird does. He could say many things, such as, "I love you, give me a kiss. I want some fresh water. I want an apple. How's my girl?" and about 50-60 words.
Mango immediately made friends with Journey, my 15-year-old son. He listened every day when I sang "Good Morning To You," to our Parrolet. Before we knew it, Mango sang, "Good morning TO YOU" -- with the most annoying voice and what sounded like a Spanish accent. After a couple of days, I started singing "Jesus Loves Me" to him, and in a very short time, he sang it back.
Sue is Don's brother Elwood's daughter, a subscriber... Amber and Brittany are her daughters (niece and grandnieces to us). Here is the connection to the video. --DMA
The Matriarch Speaks W
A Visit With The "Traveling" Johnsons
Last Saturday, May 3, our wanderers came for a visit. Rich is spending time in Moorhead in their apartment there. He will be going back to California to finish up a project and then will have his first official vacation before starting his next project ... which he is quite sure will be another state. While he is finishing up, his family will remain in Minnesota. It was great to be together again.
This was Rich's first visit to our present apartment. He approves! They took us out for lunch to Culvers ... a bit crowded, as the weather is so nice and the tourists are out in force, but we had a great lunch and a good visit.
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 ... generally in the order we receive them, so the first guess received is on top.
Left to right: Billy Dake, Gilbert McCalla, (not sure who this young lady is), Blanche Dake, Elizabeth (Dake) McCalla.
Editor's comment: You are correct. I do not know the name of the young lady either (though I seem to remember her first name was Dorene). She was Gilbert's girlfriend at Cokato High School. He was enrolled there briefly before he joined the Marines.
I don't know everyone, but the man second from the left is my dad, Gilbert McCalla. My grandmother, Elizabeth McCalla is on the far right. Do you know where this was taken?
Editor's comment: I am not sure where it was taken, but my guess would be by the railroad station in Minneapolis or St. Paul ... and, of course, the sign in the background supports that guess. Also your grandma's apartment was in St. Paul -- and then "The Cities" was the "cool" place to go for Saturday afternoon.
Good picture -- from the left, Billy Dake, Gilbert McCalla, (don't know the girl), Blanche Dake and "Aunty" Elizabeth McCalla. Someone has had to go back to get these good pictures!
Wonder how much that neat digital cost brother Billy? And cousin Gilbert had his girlfriend along. I think her name was Dottie Dietel. Then there was sister Blanche and our Aunty Liz. The fun thing that I remember about her was getting to ride in the rumble seat of her Chevy coupe; if I remember right, we were riding with her down in the city. Who was taking the picture? Was it future brother-in-law Jim? Wonder why they were at the train depot?
I am guessing Uncle Billy [Dake] with the camera, Gilbert [McCalla], I don't know the gal next to him, my beautiful mother [Blanche Dake Miller] and Aunt Elizabeth [McCalla].
Shari Miller Larson
I think the person to the far left is my grandfather, Bill Dake. Also, I enjoyed seeing the picture of Larry Dake on Old Doc [last week]. I've heard my mom talk about Old Doc quite a bit, mentioning what a nice, gentle horse he was. Glad I got to see a picture of him!
Editor's comment: There's another picture of Old Doc in the mystery picture section of Bulletin 291 with your Uncle Stanley aboard. LTD said he thought the two pictures were probably taken on the same roll of film. Carol Dake Printz contributed some more memories of Old Doc in the mystery picture section of Bulletin 292.
I always enjoy the GUESS/MYSTERY pictures even if I don't know them. I am thinking the one on the left is either LeRoy Dake or his brother [Billy], and the second from the right is our Blanche Dake Miller. The rest are still a guess.
Betty Weiland Droel
Nobody Wrecks My Mailbox
The mailbox stories triggered another memory. As far back as I can remember, we've never had a rural mailbox at the farm. When asked why, Pa said that he had to take the milk to the creamery in town every day anyway, and it was a lot easier to rent a post office box there than to put up with trying to maintain a rural mailbox.
I have often appreciated his wisdom, as I saw the neighbor's mailboxes fall victim to errant drivers, snowplows, and vandals who fed them cherry bombs, or shot them full of bullet holes.
From the earliest time I can remember, Pa always had a sign where our driveway met the county road. It said "Donald B. Johnson," and beneath that, "Gravel." It was just a small, homemade sign, well off the road, and stood on a spindly angle iron post.
The road from Melby to Ashby was a busy state highway with lots of traffic, and was well patrolled by the highway patrol. Many drivers who had spent too long at the tavern in Melby detoured past our farm on the county road to avoid the main highway.
Our driveway entered the county road in the middle of a gradual curve. Now and then, a car would swing wide on the curve and run over the sign. Sometimes it was possible to just straighten the post, but other times it had to be replaced.
After a particularly bad series of run-over signs, Pa was pretty disgusted. He had a nice sign made at a signmaker's shop and dug in an eight-inch-diameter oak post to mount it on. He said, "The next one that hits my sign post will at least know he hit something, and I might even find out who it was if I see his car in town."
He put up the new sign early in the fall. Hunting season started a couple of weeks later. The first weekend of duck hunting, some road-hunting nimrod blasted the sign with a shotgun at close range. Pa wondered for a bit if someone "had it in for him," but couldn't come up with anyone who would have a reason to wreck his sign. I think he decided to write it off to bad luck and random vandalism.
I don't think there was ever a sign there again, but the oak post stands there to this day, over 40 years later. A company that delivered free "shopper" papers put a plastic box on it. Eventually the box fell apart. Part of the box still hangs on the post. Recently, the county put a steel post next to the oak post to hold our 911 address sign. A wild vine has twined its way up the posts.
Nobody has dared to run into the posts yet.
I pay a small fee to rent a mailbox at the post office and have an excuse to go to town every day. The post office is right across the street from the coffee shop. And nobody ever wrecks my mailbox.
When we returned to camp with the sheep the following evening, I let them lounge around to rest and water. Meanwhile, I would water the horse, give her oats and hay, and put her up for the night.
Checker and I would gather the sheep into the corral when it began to get dark. Their natural flocking instinct would be strongest then, making it relatively easy to move them onto their bedding ground in the night corral. No need for harassing them with the horse.
Sherry and the girls had already arrived at camp for the night, driving our blue-green flatbed Ford pickup. Smoke was coming from the chimney on the sheep camp wagon, indicating supper was cooking on the small wood-burning stove inside. The top half of the sheep camp door was open, allowing the excess heat from the cooking to escape.
I rode the horse to the wagon, dismounted, and lifted Sarah and Amy into the saddle. Then I led the horse to a small, bubbling brook that emanated from an old stone spring house. The spring house was the only building that remained from what had been a homestead. Our ranch had restored the spring house, including a new cedar-shake roof. Looking in through the small four-pane window, I could make out a trough through which the water flowed before exiting the building; likely, this had been used to cool food stored by the homesteaders.
I could picture two barefoot girls racing along the path to the spring house. They would carry water, or maybe an antelope steak, back to their mother, who was preparing supper over a small cast-iron stove. At the door to their wood-framed shack, an older girl was swaying back and forth, with the baby of the family cooing in her arms; inside a toddler was sitting on the dirt floor, playing with a rag doll.
Their father was just riding in on his horse, his rifle across the saddle. He stopped to talk to his oldest daughter, who was working in the desert garden. She was dipping water from the little brook with her milk pail, to water the tender sprouts. Wisps of sun-bleached hair blew across her tanned face. She held the empty bucket in one hand and swept away her windblown locks with the other. Her worn and ill fitting blue and white gingham dress didn't hide the gentle curves of her coming of age.
After she milked the cow and her father tended his horse, the family would all gather together around their tiny kitchen table for supper.
A mountainous ridge was close at hand, even though the homestead was on a wide, flat plain. Up on the side of the mountain were several caves. They were large enough for a family to sleep in, offering a protective spot to gather around a campfire. There was a unique thing about these caves: they had smooth, round, soot-blackened openings -- straight up to the sky. These served very nicely as chimneys and skylights. This is how the location became known as "The Skylight."
I could imagine some of the girls would have found their way up to these caves to play. Perhaps the family had even lived in them while they built their shack. Certainly, through the centuries, the hunter-gatherer Northern Paiute Indians, who had populated this area, would have stayed in the caves from time to time.
Leading my horse back to the commissary wagon, which was hitched behind our sheep-camp, I lifted the girls down from their first ride. I could hardly help but think of what I had heard of the homesteaders who had worked their claim in this idyllic location.
A family with six children, all girls, had in fact lived here. An epidemic (probably smallpox) was moving through the area and they'd begun to come down with fevers. The husband and father, possibly ill himself, rode to town, several days' journey, to find a doctor.
When he returned, he found his homesteading shack burned to the ground; his wife and six daughters had been inside -- all had perished in the fire.
I tethered my horse to the rail on the side of the commissary wagon and gave her a scoop of oats. The girls and I were ready to join Sherry for supper. I was beginning to remove Jackson's mother's fancy, hand-tooled saddle when Sarah asked, "Did you hear that?"
"What?" I asked.
"Listen--" she said.
Spring Break 2008, Here We Come!
The first fun stop was at the Indy 500 Speedway. We took the tour bus ride around the racetrack. Didn't get to see Dale, Jr. or any of those fellows, but did see a couple of mallard ducks waddle across the finish line. Then we looked through the museum that holds all the old race cars and motorcycles. The one in that red car must have won the race, as she was waving to the fans (or maybe trying to draw someone's attention to help her back out of the car).
Being I like country western music, we stopped at Nashville, Tennessee, to check out the Grand Ole Opry House. Was fun just to see, but there were no tours at the time we were there.
In Louisiana, we stopped at a plantation home called Oak Alley. The old home and grounds were so beautiful, but that was when my digital camera decided it needed a rest. The only picture I managed was of the oak trees that lined the walk from the home to the front road. They said these oaks live to be hundreds of years old. It was really a place for anyone to see and enjoy. But a lot of the state that we drove through looked so bad from the floods.
Our next stop was Beaumont, Texas. My thoughts at this place were -- look, but don't touch -- at least I wouldn't! It was an alligator farm. There were big 'gators and little 'gators, big turtles, even a couple of tame white ducks. And, of course, snakes that they draped around their necks. Thank goodness we spent so much time with the 'gators that we missed out on the kids holding the snakes. But they did get to hold and pet the little 'gators that had their mouths taped shut.
We went to Galveston and out to the ocean to do shell hunting and everyone but me went for a dip in the ocean. Hard to think that an ice cream truck would be out and about and that kids from snowbound Minnesota would be swimming and buying ice cream. The houses built near the ocean were unreal to me; why would you want to live that close to that much water and on stilts? Doesn't look too safe to me. But I guess it would be good exercise climbing up and down all the time. Then we took a ferry boat to get to the other side of Galveston Island. The ferry looked overloaded with cars and people to me; it was scary, but fun.
The last tour we took was to the underground caves at St. Charles, Texas. It is so hard to fathom all the things that are in the caves. It's an example of God's great creation. We even saw one of the little bats that fly in the cave.
$ A Long Time Ago !
Appalachian Trail Trek: Week Seven, May 1973
Week Seven improved our outlook. We finished up Tennessee with beautiful weather in Laurel Fork Gorge, which some hikers thought the three most beautiful miles on the whole trail. With a sun-dappled waterfall and spring flowers in bloom all around, it certainly was a contender. I carried nine pounds of camera gear and flower and bird books and made the most of this bonanza.
We took a couple of rainy days off at a bed and breakfast to pack up food for the next section of trail and visited a shop with beautiful handmade quilts displayed and offered for sale. We also discovered that the next section of trail had been re-routed to the mountaintops while the old trail wound through the foothills. We hiked the old route, where spring had come, despite the "scribes and Pharisees" who felt a hike wasn't end-to-end if it didn't follow every inch of the official trail.
A water snake startled Kyra, but caused no harm, and a friendly horse let her pat his nose. We camped out in shelters where thunderstorms and whippoorwills proved more interesting than the sleep we missed. When a troop of Girl Scouts camped at a shelter, I thought Kyra would love to meet some girls her own age. I was wrong. She was a "thru-hiker," going to Maine. We camped out with some other thru-hikers in a firetower instead. She thought that was much more cool!
"We crossed into Virginia at noon the following day. After ten days in Georgia and thirty-six in North Carolina and Tennessee, I finally began to think we were getting somewhere. The Virginia line was gateway -- to summer in the mountains, to the confidence we could keep on going.
"Kyra and I made an arch of walking sticks at the signpost, 'Ta-da!' and welcomed Jerri into our fourth state. Four hundred fifty miles of Appalachian Trail led across Virginia, more than we had walked so far. We would be there quite some time." --from Walking North, by Mic Lowther.
Celebrations & Observances
This Week's Special Days
This Week's Birthdays
This Week's Anniversaries
More May Birthdays
More May Anniversaries
May Special Days
Miss Hetty's Mailbox:
Miss Hetty got a letter that said Ary had the flu ... so she sent him a get well card from The Bulletin editors and staff ... and here is his acknowledgement:
Hello Miss Hetty,
Thanks for the nice get-well card. You picked the right one; I felt, and still feel, like the fish before he got his medication.
I enjoyed what happened when I touched the fish-bowl; thanks again and hope to make a contribution for The Bulletin soon.
Hope this will be over soon; was a long time ago that I felt so sick.
Yesterday a colleague from work brought me a get well flower. Also notice what you see on the TV screen. I didn't think it looked that bad!
Today I feel a bit better again; I have four more days to recover. On Wednesday I have to go to work again. It's summer here, every day sunshine and warm temperatures.
Greetings from the Netherlands,
Thank you very much for the card. I always look forward to receiving a card from you. I think they are so cute. Unfortunately, my birthday was spent at work but I am fairly used to that. We are in the full swing of fertilizer season now, which means very little sleep for me. As of eight o'clock this morning, I was on overtime for the week, which, as Dad said, "At least you got paid well to work on your birthday."
That is pretty much what I have been doing. Ashley has her last day of school on Friday, so she is actively seeking employment. She had an interview at the hospital in Alexandria yesterday and felt that it went well, so we are crossing our fingers about that one.
Other than that, I guess I don't know a whole lot. Thank you again for the wonderful card and I look forward to seeing you and Grandpa soon.
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?
Last Week's Bulletin Review JKL
As I sit down here at the computer, with intentions to express my thanks and appreciation of all that was included in Bulletin #307 in a Letter To The Editors, I feel so unable and so limited in ability (vocabulary) to do so.
My heart is full as I picture the scene in Luverne, Minnesota, right now as a family that is so dearly loved by so many are saying the final goodby to their mother, Darlene Veldkamp (Marci Weiland's mother).
This is uppermost in my heart at this time, but I do want to let our editors and contributors know how very much their awesome work is valued, so I will attempt to put those feelings in this LTTE.
The first picture is always a shocking beauty of some kind or the most important feature of the week, and this time it was that intriguing picture of SNOW on a beautiful pansy. I looked at that for a long time, trying to take in all the details of this "April fools us again" photo. I am thinking we have had enough subjects of winter, so it's time for something really spring and summery. But, how can you think spring when you see snow on the pansies? Who knows if we might get yet another snowstorm?
That was such a beautiful and meaningful memory Update of Edith Anderson. So many Bulletin subscribers will be glad to see that picture and details. She has been dearly loved for her sharing and caring by young and old. She was Steve Weiland's grandma, and today his family is saying goodby to his mother-in-law. That is hard to take in, to think of such sorrow in such a short time. We are thinking of them.
That was such an impressive picture of the snow, and yet the flag remains through it all. A most unusual picture, I thought, with the stormy, colorless background with the bright red, white and blue flag in the center. Taken by Anita Wolff's niece.
The snow covered deck doesn't give you much incentive for a picnic yet. That was right here in Minnesota, at Breezy Point, which is a summer vacation highlight.
With all the bad news regarding what young folks allow these days, it was refreshing and rewarding to read about the Outstanding Youth of Ashby.
It is so nice that The Bulletin can include birthdays of family and friends. It is all so newsworthy and interesting to see the pictures included, and I took special note of the menu there on the table at Peggy's birthday party. Looked very good, and the table and chairs looked retro, which is becoming more valuable each year. The stove looked a lot like our own, though.
I did a double take to see the picture of Kylie McNeill, looking so much like mama, Alisha.
LTD Storybrooke, you certainly gave us another play-by-play, practically a visual account of the favorite horse. You had so many narrow escapes that we wonder if you really did manage to survive, but we have to believe you did, seeing you're writing it up for The Bulletin. That was such an innocent looking picture of you on the horse when you were 10 years old. It was drawn to my attention that Kyra Lowther was also 10 years old in her Appalachian Trail trek experience. We have some accomplished successes in our Bulletin family, and thanks for every time you put them in writing for us.
Of course, tulips from the Netherlands by Frans de Been was especially interesting and timely, too. Beautiful, colorful tulips blooming in your own garden, Frans. Thank you for sharing those spring blossoms -- we needed that.
I think that is a very fitting title for the accounts of Weston's whereabouts. Where in the world is Weston? Every time, he's in some unbelievable place. Your position at your work brings you into places and circumstances that we like reading about. That takes time to share it all, and thank you, Weston. The Keene Pumpkin Festival link was quite a display of thousands of pumpkins, and who ever grew all of them? Hope they didn't go to waste afterwards. Maybe they went to "waist."
I felt a twinge in my heart to see the message in the snow on the roof that Kyra left after her night in the tumble-down, lean-to shelter on the trek. You give us just enough of the story to keep us anxious for the next chapter, Jerrianne. I did read the book, Walking North, and want to start all over again from even the Preface. It is extremely interesting and detailed. Especially when it includes our photo editor in her younger years (1973). The picture of Kyra announcing her arrival with the flag in the snow on the 6,150-foot peak looks so scenic and breathtaking, but when you think that is the TRAIL walked on for months, day and night, you take a second look.
I am glad for the Miss Hetty's Mailbox letters that we share in. That "gossip column" gives us an insight into a lot not included any other place in The Bulletin.
Oh, oh, Beaver isn't going to let me get away with wondering about ad-libbing when he gives such explicit details of so many old-time happenings. I hope you accept my humble apology for even having such a thought. I do know that Donald B. Johnson was a master at telling stories and writing them, so of course Beaver is a chip off the old block. (A compliment, Beaver.)
That was a pretty scary picture of the tornado. With nature, you can't predict or second guess. It just happens, and we have to be prepared for whatever.
Wanted to mention, just in passing, that when we drove out to Edith Anderson's funeral we went through Howard Lake. I watched intently at all the landmarks and looked longingly at the old home of Don and Dorothy Anderson, where the tractors lined the driveway. Also, at the rest home on the hill where we visited Amy Dake so many times. We always went away feeling rewarded for having stopped to visit her. So many wonderful old memories came alive.
The white Persian kitty hardly looks real. Looks like she has contacts and eyeliner. How do you ever keep those kitties so white, or should I say silver?
The photo illustration by Bitzi of the poor, buried pansies, and then the ones that are showing strong and perky, was typical of our weather here in Minnesota. They definitely have facial expressions. If they could only talk!
I was impressed with the Quotation for the day, thinking of the fragile pansies, "Courage is not the towering oak that sees storms come and go, but it is the fragile blossom that opens in the snow."
Thanks to our Editor and Photo Editor for your never-ending enthusiasm to pick and choose such varied articles and pictures for each and every Bulletin.
Roy and Betty Droel
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Quotation for the day: A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. --Tenneva Jordan
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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.