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Sunday, August 24, 2008
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Photo © Eric & Leona Anderson
Lake Superior: looking out at the lighthouse on Artists' Point.

Update -- Eric and Leona celebrate 5th anniversary
by Eric and Leona Anderson
Maple Grove, MN

As all of you careful readers of The Bulletin know, this past Saturday was our fifth wedding anniversary, and to celebrate we decided to get out of town for a little bit. We followed the same route we did on our honeymoon.

We left Thursday afternoon and drove to Hinckley. We stayed at the same little motel we stayed at when we couldn't find a room last time around, and let me just say that we should have tried somewhere else this time. The past five years have not been kind to the Gold Pine Lodge. It was clean, at least as far as I could tell, but the whole place is looking really run down. There was a jacuzzi in the room though, and that is always fun.

Friday morning we woke up ready for a big day! After discovering that the breakfast the motel offered consisted of pre-packaged sticky-buns and watered down OJ, we hit Tobie's instead. Yummy! Once fed, we trucked it up to Duluth and spent the bulk of the day down by the lake. We went to the aquarium they have up there, which was fun, and I'm glad we went, but it's mostly fish from the Great Lakes area. Carp and trout are all pretty much brown and gray, which doesn't make for all that interesting fodder. There are some fun antique shops that we hit after lunch before heading to our ultimate destination.

The bulk of our trip was spent at the Naniboujou Lodge in Grand Marais, which is about thirty miles from the Canadian border, also known as the middle of nowhere. No TV, no internet, and no cell service; it was wonderful. The lodge itself was first conceived and financed by folks like Babe Ruth and John Dillinger as a North Woods getaway from the world. Although it never achieved the grandeur first envisioned, it's still a gorgeous French and Native American inspired retreat. We arrived Friday evening, had a light dinner and spent the rest of the evening either on the deck over the solarium or on the beach watching the sun set behind us and the moon rise in front of us over Lake Superior.

Saturday was our actual anniversary. We had a delicious breakfast in the Nani's beautiful dining hall, and after some reading in the morning calm, we decided to go on a hike. Almost directly across from the inn is the Judge C.R. Magney State Park. We did the hike out to the Devil's Kettle, which isn't a very long trek, but is a bit strenuous. To get down to the Brule river, which runs through the park, you have to descend 177 steps, then to get to the vantage that overlooks Devil's Kettle, which is a pair of waterfalls pouring into stone-walled ravines, you have to climb out all the way up from the river. Once you've had your fill of the great view of the falls, you get to do all the up-and-down again, only in reverse. It was a great way to work off some of that food we'd been eating and we got a lot of neat pictures, too!

Photos © Eric & Leona Anderson
Eric & Leona, left; Brule River, right.

That afternoon, after a nice nap, we drove north to the Indian reservation in search of a bakery. While we didn't find any baked goods, we did stop at Grand Portage again. We'd done the tour when we were there five years ago, so we thought it would be mostly the same thing. Boy, were we ever wrong! Since we were last there they've built a huge visitor's complex. It's three stories tall and filled with lots of neat displays about the people who once used the portage and how the fur trade shaped the history of the area. They also had historical recreations and a presentation on the importance of the beaver, which was surprisingly interesting.

My favorite part of the trip came that night when, after some Frisbee on the grounds and a shower, we went down to the candle-lit dining room for our anniversary dinner. We both had rib-eye steaks with a balsamic glaze and blueberry-peach cobbler for dessert. We sat and chatted and had a wonderful time. Afterward, we sat on the beach while the full moon sparkled off the lake and the surf crashed on the rocks. It was truly a perfect evening.

On Sunday morning we slept in, and after yet more reading and a tasty brunch, (a lot of food was eaten on our trip) we went into Grand Marais for the day. They've got a lot of tourist-type stuff and we took full advantage of our status as such. We played mini-golf and honestly didn't do that poorly. I shot a four over par and Leona had an eight over. After that we hiked past the Coast Guard station out to the end of the breakwater that protects the harbor from the turbulent waters of the main body of the lake. The waves there were marvelous and we spent quite a while basking in the sun, watching the water. Once we'd had our fill, we hit a couple gift shops, had a late lunch at this really cute little bistro, and headed back to the Nani for the last night of our trip.

On the final morning of our long-awaited vacation, we packed up and said good-bye to the Naniboujou, sweet rolls from the kitchen in hand. Just past Split Rock lighthouse we stopped at what has to be my favorite place in the whole world. It's called Twin Points and there used to be a resort there that we went to a lot when I was a kid. It's got a lot of really nice memories attached to it for me and my family. When the lady who owned and operated the resort passed away, she deeded the land to the state and they turned it into a boat landing and roadside rest, which is nice because we can all still go there, even if we can't stay anymore.

We hiked down to the beach, covered with pink rocks that the place is known for, and had our breakfast. After that we climbed up the big cliffs and took some pictures. The breeze off the lake was brisk and light, and in the haze you could see the bluffs both north and south of the points. It was a lovely way to end our trip. That feeling stayed with me all the long ride home.

Now that we are indeed home, I can safely say that the entire trip went off without a hitch and may have been one of my best ever. We did a huge amount of different things and had a lot of fun. It's our plan to do the same thing for our 10-year anniversary, only with more hiking. Hopefully we'll be up to it, but hey, we've got five years to prepare!

Photos © Eric & Leona Anderson
Leona looking out at the lake from Iona's Beach (made up mostly of pink rocks ... lots and lots of pink rocks), left; Eric looking out at the lighthouse on Artists' Point, right.

Photo © Caity Chap
Caity found fireweed in bloom at Gooseberry Falls State Park.

Herb Douvier

My Grandpa
by Shawn Ostendorf
Rogers, MN

Herb Douvier -- April 4, 1917 to August 18, 2008.

91 years old.

Grandpa to 10 grandchildren, and 15 (soon to be 16, when Lori and I have our next child in January) great grandchildren.

Decorated Army serviceman -- fought in World War II.

Father to three daughters (Darlene, Shirley, and Linda).

My grandpa was an amazing man. He not only was my grandpa, but also a mentor in many ways. He lived a long and healthy life.

I was asked to write a few thoughts about my grandpa to kind of explain who he was. I think it is best to put down a couple of my favorite memories as there were so many to pick from.

One of my most enduring memories was when he would take me fishing for hours at a time, as that was his passion. He could sit on the shore of Sauk Lake/River for hours and throw that little bobber into the water and see what he could drag in. Mainly Sunnies, Crappies, and Bullheads would glup the worm and hook down, but every once in a while a fish of a bigger variety would latch on. This would give him a thrill for the week.

I can still remember being a small kid and watching my grandpa catch his limit of panfish and bullheads and then stay up most of the night cleaning them while getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. As these nasty bugs would usually chase the rest of us into the house, he would stay out there and clean, clean, clean, and be happy as a lark doing it.

My grandpa also taught me the value of money. Growing up in the Depression, he understood the value of a dollar. I always admired him for that. Grandpa and I would go and collect aluminum cans so I could put money in my piggy bank. We would drive all over town; there was no shame in working to make ends meet. If there was a can on the side of the road, we stopped; if there was a garbage can in a picnic area, we knew we would hit pay dirt.

I'm sure he spent much more money on gas than I ever made collecting cans. Looking back, it wasn't the money that I made that brought value, it was the memories we shared together. What a wonderful gift he gave me! Funny, it only took 35 years to figure that out.

I suppose it sounds kind of silly to mention these two little things, but that is how I want to remember him. He was a good Christian man who had a strong core and was a shining example of who I hope to become in being a man of high integrity and having strong values.

He might be a blip on the radar to most anyone who met him, but he was in many, many ways the dad and grandpa I want to become when my kids get older.

He will most definitely be missed.

Photo © Wyatt Johnson
Weston & Jolene in Chinatown.

Update -- New York, New York, it's a wonderful town...
by Wyatt Johnson
Moorhead, MN

One of the big things Jolene wanted to do in New York was some shopping. Saturday morning, we decided to head to Chinatown to find some bargains. The subway took us to the heart of Chinatown; no sooner had we climbed the stairs out of the station than a woman met us with a small placard filled with pictures of purses.

Since she had purses, and we wanted (well, Jolene and Shawn wanted) purses, we followed her. After about a block and a half of passing shop after shop filled with purses, we arrived at her purse shop. I use the word "shop" very loosely here. It was more of a purse hallway, not more than five feet wide and about 15 feet deep. In a very heavy Chinese accent, she told us, "You go in back." Looking to the back of the shop, I wondered if the best purses were in the rear part of the shop.

As we approached the back of the shop, the back door magically moved out of our way, showing a staircase with another woman waiting at the bottom. All logic thrown aside in pursuit of the deals, we followed her upstairs into a room that made the hallway downstairs look like a castle. As Jolene and Shawn (shopping for Lori, not for himself) shopped, I sat and thought about the fact that we were sitting in a 250 cubic foot (cubic foot, not square foot), 110 degree room, with six people and 100 purses in it, buying purses. Not exactly where I saw myself when I thought about New York, but I've got to admit, after we were outside and I was pretty sure we were still alive, it was a fun part of the whole experience.

Since Little Italy is within a couple of blocks of Chinatown, we figured we had to go to another pizzeria for lunch. We each got a small, personal pizza and were again very satisfied!

Even though it was quite a walk from there to the southern tip of Manhattan, we decided we were up to the challenge. The walk took us by the World Trade Center site, where we saw the progress -- actually the lack of progress -- made on the new buildings there.

We continued south to Battery Park, where we could see the Statue of Liberty across the bay. Since we still had a lot of stuff we wanted to do, we skipped the trip out to the statue. We trekked around the tip of Manhattan and went north to Wall Street, passing the Stock Exchange building, and stopping for refreshments at Fraunces Tavern, where we imagined the historic figures that had passed through.

By this time we were pretty beat and we went back up to the Times Square area, to find a place to eat. After all the pizza, it was time for some good old barbeque. Sindy recommended Virgil's and ended up treating us to a great meal of various barbequed meats.

Although we were stuffed, we had another recommendation that we had to try: cheesecake at Junior's. I shouldn't even tell you how good this cheesecake was, because I think I could write an entire story about it. It was far and away the smoothest and most delicious I've ever eaten, and I am considering a trip back just to have another piece.

To be continued...

Photos © Wyatt Johnson
We don't see buildings like the one at left in Fargo; Shawn prepares to eat a piece of Junior's cheesecake, right.

Photo © Sarah Steinhauer
Sarah Steinhauer's wild sunflower.

Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
Train chugs along model railroad track in Anchorage Garden Tour.

Update -- Anchorage garden tour
by Miss Kitty
Anchorage, AK

"Enough," Miss Jerrianne said, "in Anchorage the kids went back to school on Wednesday and the Alaska State Fair opened in Palmer on Thursday, and we've been too busy gardening to stop and smell the flowers. Summer is winding down, so this week, we're going to put some flowers in The Bulletin."

It's true. Miss Jerrianne has been so busy with gardening and The Bulletin that we're lucky to get regular meals in the summertime -- even with both the weedwhacker and the lawnmower in the repair shop. But we did let her spend a Sunday afternoon at the Anchorage Garden Tour. She had such a good time that we insisted she take in the flower show at the Botanical Garden, too.

Mai Tai and I stayed home and took our regular Sunday afternoon naps. She used to take me with her sometimes, but now that there are two of us, we stay home. No more gallivanting for us.

However, we did check out the biennial Belgian Begonia Festival on the Internet. When it's time to dig begonia tubers in the fall, the beautiful blooms are cut off. A crew of 80 to 100 people carefully arrays some 700,000 blossoms to create a brilliant carpet of flowers in Brussels Square; it lasts through a single weekend before the vibrant colors fade away. There is a slide show about the creation of the intricate carpet, which is different every time.

Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
Fountain made from glass coffee table bought at a garage sale & painted cement splash plates molded from rhubarb leaves.

Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
Blue Himalayan poppy, Anchorage Botanical Garden.

Photo illustration © Virginia McCorkell; photo by Jennie Horne
Ethan Horne's unusual sunflower.

Day to Day R
With Donna Mae
Ashby, MN

Photo © Lori Ostendorf
Dads & kids having fun at Lobster Lake.

Photo © Caity Chap
Caity Chap, middle front in gold sweatshirt, with her class at Minnesota State Capitol.

The Matriarch Speaks W
by Dorothy (Dake) Anderson
Alexandria, MN

Who Is This?

Let's Play a Guessing Game: Whenever it is handy to do so, we will run a picture of someone of the subscribers or staff members of our e-magazine. Tell us who you think it is -- we will let you know who was the first to guess it right -- and the correct guess -- in the following week's Bulletin.

(Send us some to run; we will line them up in our staging area to take their turn. Donna Johnson supplied last week's mystery picture.

How many can you identify?

Answers to last week's mystery pictures (click here to review them):

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.

The guess photo is Jayce, Caity, and Beaver ... as portrayed in The Wizard Of Oz.

Elaine Wold
Wahpeton, ND

I have to write, since for once, I know these people. The Tin Man is Jayce Chap, Caity Chap is Dorothy, and Beaver Johnson is the Lion! What a handsome bunch!

Donna Richards
Eden Pairie, MN

Well, now the GUESS/MYSTERY picture is hardly a mystery this time. I recognized the tin man Jayce and Dorothy Caity right away, and I am wondering if that Lion's name is Beaver? There were a lot of guesses sent in for the last one, and rightly so. How could anyone resist guessing who that well known couple were?

Betty Weiland Droel
MoundsView, MN

Larry McCorkell sent us a manuscript he transcribed from his father's tape recorded memories and made it available to The Bulletin for a series of excerpts. These stories were originally tape recorded by Bruce McCorkell of his growing up days on the homestead near Effie in northern Minnesota. They were recorded from a period of the mid 1980's until the early 2000's. These are Bruce's words of happy, sad, funny, good, and hard times.


We had two to three cows and some young stock for meat. In the spring, Dad would buy a couple of six weeks old pigs for meat in the fall. My mother had a few Rhode Island Red hens. The eggs were traded for groceries. She made butter to trade for groceries, too.

Cream was separated from milk with a cream separator. This is a type of centrifuge when brought up to correct speed, separates cream from milk. A bell on the crank gave a tinkle at the top of every turn of the crank when the separator was up to speed. Milk came out one spout and cream the other spout. There is cream and skim milk. We had the cream separator sitting right in the kitchen by the door to the living room.

My ma had a barrel, like maybe thirty-gallon, that she kept flour in. It sat beside by the cream separator. It went by pound. I don't know if it was a flour can originally or not, but it was just the right height. The pan to catch cream in sat on this barrel. It wouldn't be too much, a quart or so at the very most off of that little dab of milk we had.

One evening Ma was baking and I was separating, turning the handle and cranking the thing, separating the cream from the milk. I was holding the cream pan as the cover was off the barrel and turning the crank while she took some flour out of the barrel.

Now Ma did not allow cats in the house. This mother cat I have mentioned in the story would come in if there was a chance. Someone let her in and she made a beeline and hopped up on the barrel to probably steal a little lick off the cream pan, except the top wasn't on. The lid was off of it. The cat went to the bottom of the barrel, as there was only about six inches or more of flour in the barrel, as I remember. She came barreling out of the barrel with flour all over.

Ma looked so startled she couldn't say a word. She was just flabbergasted. So I took the cover and stuck it back on the flour barrel and put the pan down on it. She looked at me and neither one of us said anything. What are you going to say? Needless to say, the cat continued her flight out the door.

Travelogue t

Photo © Sheldon Swenson
Mount Yerupaja, 6,634 meters (21,765 feet).

Huayhuash Trek Of Peru
by Sheldon and Mitzi Swenson
Dickinson, ND

This is winter dry season down here so we have sunshine most days. It warms up to the mid 60s in the afternoon but quickly cools off when the sun goes behind the mountains about 4:30 every afternoon. It is dark by about 6 p.m. and we are often sleeping by 8. I notice a trend of lights off earlier and earlier and getting up in the morning earlier and earlier. Within a few days, Kjirsten is routinely getting us up around 5:30 so we can be on the trail shortly after morning light.

We awaken to frost on the tent every morning. If I leave water outside, there is ice by morning so, depending on elevation, we are seeing lows in the low to mid 20s.

Our hike started at about 13,000 feet elevation and our highest pass was close to 17,000 feet. During our 11 days of hiking, we climbed and crossed nine passes, with most of them over 16,000 feet. The campgrounds were situated lower, where the temperatures would not be as cold at night and provided better grazing for the mules.

Photo © Sheldon Swenson
Laguna Carhuacocha at the east base of Mount Yerupaja with horses.

Because we were carrying only water, clothing, cameras and food, the passes were not as much of a problem as you might think. It was mainly a process of one slow step at a time, remembering that the best views are always from the top.

Photos © Kjirsten Swenson, left; Sheldon Swenson, right.
Mitzi & Sheldon by laguna, left; typical mountain valley house, right.

Mitzi's Journal

Lunch every day was always bread with cheese or peanut butter, fresh tomatoes or peppers, mandarins or apples and a chocolate bar to share. I had dehydrated a black bean/corn salad for the last four days. We rehydrated that in a Ziploc while we hiked and cut a tomato and cucumber into it. We also had a carrot/pineapple salad, but most days we ate that without rehydrating it. The elevation seriously decreases your appetite and we hardly touched the dried apricots, peaches, prunes and nuts we were carrying for snacks.

Several nights throughout the trek we were camped near other trekking groups and the third night there were several Israeli students. They were very disrespectful to the local people, actually using the area right next to the trail for a restroom and leaving piles of evidence and toilet paper within 50 feet of a pit toilet. Can you imagine how you would feel if foreigners camped in your front yard and used the sidewalk like that?

To be continued...

Photo © Sheldon Swenson
Curious children, left; cows, right.

$  A Long Time Ago   !

Photo © Jerrianne Lowther
Mic & Kyra eat lunch on the summit of Mount Moosilauke.

Appalachian Trail Trek: August 1973
by Jerrianne Lowther
Anchorage, AK

With a hop, skip and a jump -- actually, a bus ride and three or four hitchhikes -- we zipped 130 miles north from Bromley Cabin in Vermont to Glencliff, New Hampshire, out of the rain. We picked up our "leapfrog" box at one post office, a food box at another and our winter gear at a third. It went like clockwork, thanks to accommodating postmasters and a bus driver who let Mic retrieve one box from a post office while he stopped at a traffic light. We spent a night at a fraternity house at Dartmouth College planning our hike. And a Mr. Applebee went out of his way to give us a ride right to the post office in Glencliff, though it was a bit out of his way home.

With our winter gear retrieved and our summer sleeping bags mailed off to our friends at Mission Control, we were able to hike a mile and a half to Great Bear Cabin in the daylight that remained. The cabin was locked but a covered front porch provided shelter. We watched "shooting stars" from the Perseid meteor shower in the night sky, nestled in downy comfort on the planked porch. And it did not rain.

"Mount Moosilauke rose to 4,180 feet. We'd been warming up to such elevations through Vermont but our leap ahead had cut that process short. We started our 150th day prepared for the worst. It turned out to be no problem at all.

"We followed an old wood road for two and a half miles through forest at the mountain's base. Another road took over from there. Trees grew ever shorter as we ascended, diminishing to sparse clumps of scrubby, wind-flattened pine and finally disappearing altogether. Beyond tree line we crossed barren, rocky ground. We reached the boulder-strewn summit at noon.

"We took in hazy views, ate our panoramic lunch, and declared it all worthwhile. No sweat, I thought. Nothing to it. What was so tough about the White Mountains? Then it came time to climb down.

"The going became steep, muddy, and slow almost at once. We'd allowed plenty of time for the three-mile descent, but we soon knew we had little to spare. We slipped in the mud, slid on the scree, and teetered across slides of small stones. Steps down sent us surging forward. At times we had to grab or crash into trees to prevent a downward plunge. As the way grew steeper, I thought we would soon be looking and climbing straight down.

"A group of seven boys caught up with us as we worked our way along. They knew we were headed for Beaver Brook Shelter. So were they.

"'Your trail goes that way,' said one, directing us down a spurious side trail.

"'No, thanks,' Jerri said. 'The one we're on has been working just fine.'

"We moved ahead as they stopped to rest, then they caught up again. An unstated race developed. Kyra, not to be outdistanced by mere boys, pushed into the lead.

"The way became impossibly steep. It dropped over rock ledges, down eroded washes, past plunging cascades. It slithered through mud and slid down banks of loose dirt. Log ladders had been built into nearly vertical sections. With three or four steps missing from some, they did little more than point the way. We held onto rocks and grabbed branches and vines to ease our way down.

"The boys followed as fast as they dared. They jumped from rock to rock and fell as rocks tipped and rolled. Some clung to tree roots to negotiate steep drop-offs. Others slid on the seat of their pants. They ran, panted, tripped, stumbled, and got in each other's way.

"Kyra raced recklessly ahead. She jumped steep slopes and hurtled down long dirt slides. She deftly dodged rocks and trees and never stopped, hesitated, or looked back. Shelter lay just ahead. Kyra plunged forward at a dead run. Seven grim-faced, out-of-breath boys swarmed steadily behind. We lost sight of Kyra. We lost sight of the boys. Only rocks and huge trees remained, and a trail that plummeted down.

"Breaking into a clearing at last, we looked ahead into the open front of the shelter. There sat Kyra, smiling as she chatted with another hiker. Her pursuers milled around outside. Jerri and I filed in; the Moosilauke Seven put up their tents." --from Walking North, by Mic Lowther.

Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of
Hetty Hooper

This Week's Birthdays
August 24---Becky Chap
August 24---Maggie Zeppelin (4 years)
August 25---Jeff Aydelotte
August 26---Donna Richards
August 30---Jessica Myron Gauderman
August 30---Ethan Wallace Horne (6 years)
Happy Birthday!

This Week's Anniversaries
August 28---Ken and Merna Morgan Hellevang (26 years)
August 30---LeRoy and Vonnie Dake (60 years)
August 30---Chris and Jennie Dake Horne (11 years)

More August Birthdays
August 5---Austin Patrick Montford (3 years)
August 5---Jan Smith
August 6---Sully Michael Brown (4 years)
August 7---Melanie Lehtola
August 7---Weston Johnson
August 7---Sue Wright
August 8---Erik Huseby (7 years)
August 8---Roxanne Mitzel
August 11---Mitchell Allen Miller
August 13---Jeffrey Todd Aydelotte, Jr.
August 16---Jason Quick
August 16---Rod McNeill
August 16---Darryl McNeill
August 19---Christopher Michael Chap
August 19---Jordan Nicole Indermark (5 years)
August 21---Jessica Hellevang
August 22---Camryn Lucille Johnson (1 year)

August 31---Devan Alexander Seaman (6 years)

More August Anniversaries
August 5---Wesley and JoAnne Sigman (19 years)
August 5---Sheldon and Mitzi Johnson Swenson (31 years)
August 6---Ryan and Heidi Johnson Henderson (3 years)
August 9---Jeff and Twila Aydelotte (17 years)
August 10---Ryan and Jessica Hellevang (1 year)
August 15---Don and Dorothy Dake Anderson (58 years)
August 16---Eric and Leona Anderson (5 years)
August 20--- Shane and Jayna Swenson (3 years)

Miss Hetty's Mailbox:

Dear Miss Hetty,

Thank you for the birthday card. I just got the card now, as I just returned from Phoenix for some training for work. I had to spend my day in training, but it wasn't so bad and I was able to meet a few new friends that I was able to have supper with that night. Hope all is well and thanks again for the card.

Chris Chap
Fargo, ND

Photo illustration © Virginia McCorkell; photo by Suzanne McCorkell
Ken & Amy tackle photography as a team.

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?

'Many Thankse

Miss Hetty


Click here to review last week's Bulletin

Don and Dorothy, I really like the picture Donna took of both of you on your anniversary. YES, you both DO look younger on it! And Dorothy, one can tell how you have lost weight, too. You look more like your mom on this picture.

Elaine Anderson Wold
Wahpeton, ND

Last Week's Bulletin Review JKL
by Betty Droel
MoundsView, MN

Our 20-month-old great granddaughter was here. She saw The Bulletin on the table and pointed to that very special picture on the first page, saying, "Duck, quack, quack." That was so much fun for us to hear that from her. So, we were thinking she will be a Bulletin fan, too.

That was a very clear and sharp close up of that duck. The coloring and the water color was very beautiful, as far as I was concerned. I'm sure I'm not the only one who stopped short when that picture scrolled up on the screen. I almost missed the caption: "SUMMER Can it get any better than this?" as I was looking at that ducky mallard. The details in those feathers fascinated me.

Then there were some other details that fascinated me, and that was on page 2. There was Weston; at long last we get to see and hear from Weston again. He'd acquired a mustache since we heard of him last. The Princess balloon was hilarious. Truly a Weston 30th birthday decor.

We wish you a happy 30th, Weston. Being Roy will be 90 in a couple years, 30 seems pretty young yet, and even to this 78 year old. Let's see, I am trying to think of anything that happened when I was 30. Offda, too long ago. Oh, yes, I do remember. That was when I met the Millers and the Dakes and so many others that have remained lifelong friends. I didn't think 30 was so young then, though.

We loved reading about your birthday, Weston. You sound so busy that a few days off would have been very welcome.

Fluffy Tapioca Cream sounds delicious. I would have to eat it all myself if I made it, so best I wait for some company to help me. Roy does not choose creamy things, but then I don't choose crispy, hard cookies, either, so we are like Jack Sprat and his wife. We lick the platter clean.

Reading Wyatt's Update sounded like reading Weston's writings. The interesting detailed pictures in words gave us a ringside seat for the happenings in New York, New York. We were glad for the photos that gave an idea of the vastness of it all. The pizza sounded great, but I think they were pretty brave to take that walk through Harlem in the dark.

Steve and Marian, thank you for that tour of the Smokies. Sometimes it takes an unusual trip or vacation or experience to be inspired enough to write for The Bulletin, and you did a good job sharing with us, Steve.

What a story about Obama the Llama, Larry. You keep doing things that your grandchildren will never forget, and this is one of them. Ginny, I was thrilled to see you had taken your turn at telling one of these stories. You are like the rest of your family, a scribe with a gift for descriptions. We will be watching for the election results with Obama the Llama's name in lights.

It would be very meaningful for Angela Roberson to return to teaching again after being home for four years. Probably won't take long to embed herself into the hearts of those 75 children and vice versa as it sounds like she loves teaching. Seems like quite a drive to school with 27 miles into the rolling hills. A teacher is a lifelong memory for children. Especially, a kind one.

I smiled, sitting here all by myself, as I saw the Update by McKenna, herself. As with Miss Kitty, she did very well on the keyboard, and we will be expecting further updates of her fun and troubles as they happen. I would think she would be so captivated by those furry little ducklings. She's a good speller, too.

Wonderful to have gotten the 58th anniversary news into this Bulletin when it took place right at the deadline for publication. That card was really cute, and I wonder how anybody ever thought of making a child card for them? They certainly don't look like they are at such an advanced age (smile).

We haven't seen a story about Eric and Leona for a long time. Glad you had that dinner together, and I am wondering what salad restaurant that was where you ate? We are not that far from Maple Grove. In fact our son has one of his orthodontist offices in Maple Grove. It's an older area being newly built up. We were at Hoolihan's one time, that's all.

The marriage license becomes more precious every year. It seems to be going by the wayside, like so many vital possessions of life, but we are glad for those who consider it necessary and important. Nice to see the copy of yours, Don and Dorothy. I remember when Roy and I were to be married, the clerk took out this big old typewriter and clicked away at it. Then she handed us one of these certificates that is cherished along with that husband of mine that becomes more dear with the passing of time.

Bruce McCorkell has included just about every phase of old time growing up days in his Homesteading Days stories. This time it was fishing for suckers, which would have interested a lot of older folks, but I missed that experience having grown up in the city of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The Travelogue included so many things that we will never see, other than reading this Peru Trek. It looks so barren and hot and dusty. Can you tell I am not created in any way like these hikers? I do enjoy reading about it, though, and seeing the pictures. It gets more interesting every time as they are further along into their trek. Quite a picnic area Mitzi and Kjirsten are at with the scenic mountains view.

It didn't get any better either as I turned the page (scrolled down) and saw Kyra slogging through the mud and doing her laundry in the wooded hills. I read in Walking North about their change in plans due to weather and circumstances, so I appreciated seeing the bus picture. What a contrast for mode of travel to get to the destination! I was so appalled, reading in the book, when Jerri announced "I am not going," and she meant it. And she didn't. Good story, don't miss it. I, for some reason, find it difficult to imagine our Photo Editor is that same Jerri.

I remember Julia Sigman when she had jet black hair. I was so glad for that photo, Ardis, and knowing she will soon be 100 years old. A dear, strong, fine lady. Friends from my era are heading into that old age category. All except me! I could still recognize her, though; please give her our greetings, Ardis. She would remember my mother, Rosalyn Weiland, who died at 100 years and 6 months.

Eewww, it sets my teeth on edge just to see Levi that close to green rhubarb. Please tell me he decided not to sink his teeth into that. Cute picture, though.

Roy and Edith had, and now we have, wonderful red, red rhubarb that is so delicious. They kept culling out all the green until they ended up with only beautiful red. It's so easy to freeze, and nice to have for that special rhubarb cake recipe from Verlaine.

I am so naive. Please tell me what the Quotation of the day is supposed to mean. Does Louvre refer to a window shutter type thing? So, is this supposed to be saying "You went to the window, what did you see?" Oh dear, I have so much to learn.

So now I think I have expressed our comments on Bulletin #322, and will send this off, after saying a very special hearty thank you for all it took to produce it!

Betty Droel


Photo illustration © Virginia McCorkell; photo by Suzanne McCorkell
Carrie Horne ponders LeRoy Dake's place in the family tree.

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: I think that no one ever sees a flower, really -- they are so small -- we haven't time. And to see a flower takes time -- as to have a friend takes time. --Georgia O'Keefe

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

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.

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