Sunday, March 8, 2009
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UPDATE -- never say never...
Well, after months of hum-drum days with nothing much new to write home about, I finally have something to write home about!
I've been told many a time "never say never ... it's what you'll end up with." Well, I guess that I said "never" too many times. I said that I would never, ever, in a million years, be a teacher. Well, today (Tuesday, March 3) I started as a substitute teacher, at a local performing arts charter school for middle and high schoolers!
It went really smoothly and I actually enjoyed it. This job switch of mine happened quite suddenly. Two weeks ago the closet company that I've been working for let me know that, come the 1st of March, I would no longer have a job working for them. The day after finding out this unfortunate bit of news, Ryan's mom let me know that she desperately needed substitutes at her school.
After a few minutes of wondering if I was crazy for even entertaining the idea, and knowing that jobs are few and far between, I agreed to try it. I was pleasantly surprised with how my first day went and hope that it wasn't a fluke! I actually sat at my desk as the kids worked semi-quietly, wondering if I should give up on my accounting degree and try teaching ... who ever saw that one coming? I surely didn't.
On some other notes: about the only thing we've been doing besides working this winter is our weekly ski trips. We've found some good stashes of snow here and in Colorado this year. The stories and pictures aren't any different from last year's stories and pictures but we've had fun just the same.
It seems, though, that winter is over here in New Mexico. My crocuses are up and blooming, with my daffodils not far behind. We had a forecasted high of 76 degrees today and seems to be the norm, for the next week, at least. All I can think of is the saying we learned in elementary school about March: "Comes in like a lamb, goes out like a lion." Maybe I'll keep my snow pants out a little longer!
UPDATE -- the joys of raising a 2-year-old...
So, today Madilyn shoved a (baked) bean up her nose and got it stuck up there. We tried everything to get it out ... a small medicine dropper thingy, Q-tips, twisted ends of Kleenex, you name it! As a last resort, I tried (again) to teach her to blow her nose.
We've tried several times before, but she always sucks in instead of blowing out. We're standing in the bathroom as I'm coaching her to blow out through her nose, and she finally does it!
She looks at me with a surprised look and says, "Came out, Mommy! There it its!" Sure enough, there was the lone baked bean, lying on the bathroom floor. I grabbed for a Kleenex to pick it up with, and before I could stop her, she picks it up and eats it! "GROSS!" I squeal.
She looks at me, shocked at my reaction, and says, "Mmmmmmm, good, Mommy!"
These are the joys of raising a 2-year-old! :)
UPDATE -- grandkitties won't be racing on Roombas
Mai Tai and I are helping Miss Jerrianne celebrate her birthday. Any excuse for a taste of vanilla ice cream suits us! She didn't invite us to share her cake or the cookies she got from Kyra, but she said we could share an e-letter from Kyra regarding the grandkitties with The Bulletin readers:
Since I read The Bulletin on-line, it looked normal to me and I'd forgotten all about the edtor's computer problems until I saw the note. Everything was lovely, as usual, and Betty's comment spurred me to pull some threads together into a minor Roomba snippet.
A little over a year ago, we were figuring out new furniture for our office, since we could no longer cope with the disorganized piles of nonsense spilling off folding tables onto the floor.
To make matters worse, we couldn't let the cats in the room because everything we didn't quite have a handle on immediately became a cat toy. They knew they were being excluded from an absolute gold mine of pens to chase around the floor and papers to plop down on, so they would sit outside the door and meow. And meow. And meow. (Tee hee, we do that, too. --Mai Tai)
So the cats were very much on our minds as we considered furniture options. One issue was whether the cats could get under it and whether we could get them out again if they weren't ready to leave yet. Not relishing these types of confrontations, we chose furniture that was very low to the ground, but not flush. It gave us some really good storage space and we knew they couldn't get underneath. However, we didn't really come up with a plan for how to keep the floor clean.
We also weren't thinking about how the office would become the new cat hockey arena and how many goals would be scored as toys were successfully shot between the goal posts of the furniture legs. Oops. All we need now is an electronic scoreboard.
But the Roomba video started me thinking -- maybe we should get one for the office. Sure beats moving all the furniture. I started looking into it and the sales materials are quite cagey about not saying exactly how tall they are. There is a version designed to cope with pet hair (we have plenty), but not much to help you figure out whether the little robot can get where the pet hair is hiding.
As far as I can tell, the Roomba is about an inch taller than the space under our furniture, so alas, it seems that we will not have a parade of cats riding on Roombas in our future. However, we continue to have many spirited sporting events, albeit a little less organized than the ones Weston writes about. --kyra
Day to Day R
Dad Dines On Steak For 82nd Birthday
Beaver and I took Dad and Mom out for Dad's 82nd birthday at The Depot in Alexandria. This has become a tradition, with his meal costing less each year -- 82% off this year! A little over $3.00 for a steak meal -- hard to beat that price. Although we look forward to him beating the price for many more years!
We had a great time having all the grandchildren and most of our children here for last weekend! It was so fun. We were only missing Weston, Joanna and Jessy. Pretty much all agreed, we loved being together in the new sunroom. It is so cozy and having it full of family is the finishing touch!
The Matriarch Speaks W
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? What's going on?
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.
Well, I do know three of the four right away: Dorothy, Don and Roger Slotten. Oh, by the way, Don, that is a great looking suit you have. I hope you didn't pay for it. :-)
Oh, the GUESS photo was quite interesting. Roger Slotten must have stood up for you, Don and Dorothy in the center. I am not totally certain if the one on the left is Gert or not? Somehow, I don't think so. That answered a lot of questioning when someone could guess the game they were playing in last week's GUESS picture. Carrom! New to me.
Betty Weiland Droel
We also had some guesses that didn't make last week's paper due to the editor's computer problems. These guesses refer to the previous week's mystery photo. --Ed.
I only recognize the back of Uncle Gilbert and guessing the one across from him may be Dick Miller and the one at far right, possibly Tom Miller?
Donna Anderson Johnson
The [previous week's] picture was taken at Mom and Dad's farm home. Sitting to the left is brother Billy, the one you can't fully see is Tom Miller and next to him his brother Dick. Next to him was hard for me to figure out. My thought was Mr. Gandy. Next is our brother-in-law Jim [Miller], and then to Jim's left is our cousin Gilbert McCalla.
I think I can give you the names for the pictures on the piano. On the left is Vonny's nurse's graduation picture, then LeRoy's high school graduation picture, then Dorothy's graduation picture. The last one is Blanche and Jim's wedding picture. By the window is PeeWee (Betty) Vanderberg. She was kind of a cousin who, along with her sisters Edie and Bea, use to come and spend time during the summers with us.
The boys were having a game of Crokinole and it looks like they were enjoying some of Grandma's treats. I saw a box sitting in the closet upstairs, opened it up and it was game pieces for the Crokinole board, and also an instruction book on how to play. The game was made up in the 1880's and this book was copywrited in 1945.
Gert Dake Pettit
Editor's Note: Last week the game was identified as Carrom. Were both games played by this group? The links show the two games being played on different boards but some boards were multi-purpose. By the way, the guess for this week has Les Benson on the left side and does that not look like the guy playing the games with the rest of the fellows?
I have been sitting here studying the picture. and I am totally with Tom. To me that just isn't Les Benson and the only other one that it might look like is Mr. Gandy. I found a picture with Mrs. Gandy on it. A whole bunch of ladies were sitting in the living room working on a quilt. But of course you can't see any men on that picture.
And reading through this old game book, the board was called a Carrom board, made by the Carrom Company. The side without the little wooden posts on it was the side you played Carrom on, and the side with the posts was where you played Crokinole. That is the side I always remember playing on. I have that old board upstairs. Too bad it can't talk, then maybe we could find out who was playing that day for sure.
Gert Dake Pettit
Editor's Retort: Gert, you must consider that the one you are looking at looks FAR too young to be Coy Gandy at that time and I stand by my pick. --DMA
A new series of recollections, of the five years when Bill and Lois Dake and their family lived in Minnesota, began with the episode in Bulletin 343. It's too soon to tell just how many parts there will be in this series, but we still have a few stories from 1946, just after World War II. Two weeks ago I told more about polio (once called Infantile Paralysis) via two links, Polio and Sister Kenny, to minimize disruption of the narrative flow about Lois and Bill Dake. Both documents are posted as a series of scanned images. We can't edit them or correct typos and they will not respond to font changes or printer settings as regular Bulletin pages do.
Learning How To Walk All Over Again
I remember the earliest part of my adventure like through a curtain of haze. There were the scary days of being in "Contagion." Since I came home I have already had a dream about all my teeth all falling out, and another one about pulling out yards and yards of material from my nose, and about someone getting so scared she had a fit ... and sometimes it seems like it is me. And then there is the dream where I am floating. Those days I push to the back burner most of the time.
But part of it was real! Trying to turn over and not being able to move, aching all over and waiting for hot packers to arrive. Lying flat on the hard, narrow bed with the handrails at the front and a hoop over the feet to keep the weight of the bed linens off aching muscles. Hot compresses that stayed in place until they turned cold, which took about an hour -- twice a day, or maybe more if you begged. (I didn't, as I thought twice was PLENTY, but my second roommate did. She was in the kind of pain I had had earlier, at home.)
Bed Pans! Ugh -- how embarrassing! Catheterization -- even worse! What saved us from total withdrawal was that we all had pretty much the same problems and those who cared for us were so "matter of fact" -- all of us were in it together! I think this may be somewhat the same feeling Jim and Bill must have had about their "army" days.
Hot packing lasted into the Annex days at Fort Snelling ... but soon, at our own pace, we began to be over the need, as nerves to the muscles began to heal. I was one of the earlier ones to finish up with that part. I guess the reason was that most people hadn't had as much of the acute phase of the disease occur right at home. When I came, I was sicker than most but I got over it more quickly.
For the physical therapy treatments -- at first once a day -- we would be put through movements of our arms and legs by our therapist. These exercise treatments were done in our own beds. When we began to heal and were able to start doing the movements by ourselves, our therapist took us to the physical therapy room on a gurney. We had five treatments each week, but were to practice several times a day in our own beds. At our own pace, we began doing more and more of the exercises on our own power.
When we finally were about ready to walk, they set up two different appointments. The Kinney Shoe Store sent a man to fit our very practical (almost ugly, I thought) shoes to our feet. They had to fit perfectly and were guaranteed to do so. I did not really mind the corrective shoes as they were fairly natural looking. The other fellow was from a store that sold various equipment for the handicapped. We were to be fitted with a pair of "Canadian Walking Sticks" [forearm or elbow crutches, not underarm crutches]. They were to be with us wherever we walked.
You see, our walking movements now required balancing assistance. The "sticks" were to help us catch our balance if we started to teeter ... but we were not supposed to put our weight on them as we walked. Conscious walking was something you caught on to and it is hard to describe. You had to keep your weight straight up and down along your spine ... balance your weight on one leg and swing your other leg, then shift your weight to that leg, then stand straight up and down and swing the other ... always keeping your weight centered. A smooth swing of the leg and follow through made impossibly weak-seeming legs ambulate.
I remember the day I caught on to what Miss Manley was trying to tell me -- from then on it was so neat. I only fell once. That was when my therapist and I went outdoors to practice walking on the grass. It can be so tricky with the little uneven spots. Down I went, falling loose like I had been told. The next step was to get myself into a sitting position, with my legs straight out. Miss Manley came from behind and scooped me up onto my legs as easily as if, instead of 140 pounds, I weighed half that much. She knew an awful lot about weight distribution and practiced what she preached.
After that, there was lots less boredom. The wheelchair was kept up by the desk but, within reason, I could use it to go to the bathroom by myself, or go visit anyone in our ward, or do errands for the nurses or the patients.
Also, I was used by Sister Kenny (portrait) to show off her method of treatments to some students she and Miss Manley and Miss Hanson had brought. Another time, Miss Manley took me through the men's ward to show them that walking could be done even on weak legs, if they used proper balance.
The very last thing I needed to do before I could go home was to learn to climb steps. That was a challenge, as there was a time when all my weight would have to be borne by my weak left leg. I haven't yet been able to make it without hanging onto the railing and putting some of my weight onto my arm to help the weak leg ... but who knows, maybe that will come back, too. My final check out will be in 1948, when they will call me back to see how much my own work will have accomplished by then. There is lots of work to be done yet!
Editor's Note: Do you know why there aren't any pictures of me with "Canadian Walking Sticks"? I hated having anyone see me use them. I was to carry them for balance but not to put weight on them. That winter of 1946-47 I wore them when I was out and about. In the spring I gave them up and never used them again, until long after, as a sort of cane when I had injuries to my legs.
They had leather bands at the top and were so that you reached down into the bands and let your hand rest on a crossbar. I would say they might be considered a type of crutch -- with the hands instead of the underarm keeping your balance. Nowadays that same type has an open, stiff metal or leather arc that fits partially around your arm as you grasp the knob that sticks out.
I always wondered why they cut away part of the stiff leather or metal cuff on the newer models, but I see now. The full round made it so your crutch did not fall away from you when you were just carrying it, rather than putting weight on it, but you would have less danger of falling in a twist, and maybe getting hurt by your attached crutch, by leaving an escape area for your arm.
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.
LOOKING DOWN ROAD
In the summertime we often didn't see anybody for several days, so we'd go out on the road and look down the road to see if we could see somebody walking or else a car coming. I suppose we could see a couple of miles, then there was a gradual curve. I suppose it would be the other side of the schoolhouse and that was a mile and a quarter and maybe another half a mile past that. If we looked way down there, you could see a little cloud of dust. They wouldn't be speeding naturally in those old cars, but in the summer time after the road was maintained, or graded as we called it, bladed, it got to be pretty nice, and these old cars would come chugging up there.
We were hoping someone would come. There wasn't anybody living in between the schoolhouse and us except Storest. We were the last one on the road and sure were happy and hoping that there'd be somebody to see us and not go another six miles on up to the resort. We'd go out there and look to see and sometimes somebody would be walking, maybe my Uncle Clifford, or my Uncle Bob, that's my mother's brothers. Once in a while one of her uncles, the Rahiers, would walk up to see us. It was quite a thing when we'd see them walking. We'd go out to the road every little while as they got closer to see if we could tell who it was.
We were out there on the end of the road. There wasn't another soul living out east or north of our place. There wasn't anybody for three miles straight south. There were no roads or anything. The road continued on past the homestead there about six miles to Deer Lake where there was a resort. That was only a summertime thing. There was a fellow, the owner, that lived there in the wintertime mostly.
It was a hideaway for the gangsters, usually. In the summertime there were a lot of those there. They came from Chicago and all over. He was kind of connected with them some way or another, too. Mostly it probably was providing a place to get away and stay when they needed to.
We had the telephone line. We were the last one and the telephone came to our place so they would come from the resort, Katina's Lodge. They'd come out and everybody made their phone calls. They'd give us kids a little money once in a while. In the summertime they'd buy a few ears of corn or a few tomatoes or something like that and give us some money.
I know they'd want frogs for fishing. Seems to me they'd give us 25 cents a dozen for frogs. We had a little mudhole out there where we'd go and catch frogs and they'd stop and pick them up when they'd go to town.
Mozambique! I liked it instantly. Maybe I was just relieved to step out of that leaky boat with the sketchy men and still find the contents of my pockets and backpack intact. It was also a joy to hear the musical sounds of Portuguese, which is related so closely to Spanish that I can understand nearly all of it. The next morning, a pre-dawn alarm clock woke me for long bus ride to Pemba, a city with a lovely arc of beach along the coast of Northern Mozambique.
There, I had the rather frightening experience of developing a dental abscess thousands of miles from modern dental care. The symptoms of severe pain and swelling were familiar to me, as I've had a few of these before, apparently as a complication of jaw surgery I had years ago. But this time, I was far from the endodontists and pharmacists who could help me. I learned of a Cuban dentist who was occasionally in town, but rumored to have filling material only sporadically.
After a visit to each of the city's three pharmacies, to scope out antibiotic and pain relief options, I selected less-than-ideal medications and hoped I'd get well enough to defer dental treatment until my anticipated return to the States in a few weeks. Which I did, but the pain and fear surrounding my condition definitely inhibited my enjoyment of Northern Mozambique.
In Pemba, I spent a few days camping in a rented tent on a beach on the edge of town, waiting to see if my tooth was going to get better or incapacitating. It seemed to be improving, so I made plans to visit Ibo, a small island off the Northern Mozambique coast that once was an important trading center for merchants as far away as China, India, and Arabia as early as 600 AD. Later it was an important Portuguese trading center.
When the trading headquarters moved to the African mainland, Ibo's population plummeted. Now the island is home to a sleepy fishing village with lots of colonial ruins and the remnants of three Portuguese forts. The island is isolated and difficult to get to, which made it especially appealing to me as I sought to get off the beaten gringo path for a few days. I splurged on a flight on a five-seater plane, with plans to stay on the island for a few days.
To be continued...
Celebrations & Observances
This Week's Special Days
This Week's Birthdays
This Week's Anniversaries
More March Birthdays
More March Anniversaries
March Special Days
Miss Hetty's Mailbox:
Dear Miss Hetty,
Thank you so much for the mini vacation! I could just imagine being there! Someday I'll share my memories of a yacht, dolphins and sunshine with you! This brought them back clearly!
March first finally arrived. It took a whole year for it to get here, but it was worth the wait ... as what a very nice day it ended up to be.
One problem was that I was thinking I had the flu so missed doing a lot of things planned to celebrate this turning another year older. In fact Rod and Renee Martin, very special friends, had planned a surprise pot luck for my birthday with several friends and family, but I missed it. They called on the phone and everyone sang happy birthday in the background.
The irony of the whole thing is that I wasn't sick after all. I had a side effect of some nutritional product that I had started taking that acted just like the flu would. I was thankful when it was all past, but don't have much to tell about my birthday day.
Steve and Marci and Shalana and Krista Weiland came over the next evening for birthday supper with gifts and cards and a balloon. They took this picture that evening of my officially becoming 79.
Thank you for the e-cards, and for all the greetings from you.
Betty Weiland Droel
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?
To feel valued, to know, even if only once in a while, that you can do a job well is an absolutely marvelous feeling. --Barbara Walters
Along those lines; I would like to offer up my thanks to you and Jerrianne and all those who send in to contribute to your wonderful Bulletin! Job well done!
Your "letter" as written from Grandpa Dake's point of view, was so wonderful. Gert's comment about his crying about your polio, brought tears to my own eyes. Watching one's child go through something so life altering and painful was a tough thing for him, I know. It's hard for me, as your child, to realize how much it affected your life. I'm so thankful that you were able to walk for so many years, because of the Sister Kenney treatments! I appreciate your sharing the bad, along with the good, with us, although I'm sure it is very draining for you to "relive" those memories. Thank you.
Donna Anderson Johnson
I feel so blessed to have had Sister Kenny (portrait) actually do two full therapy sessions on me, and to observe me show off for some young doctors ... and to come out to tell us that Fort Snelling's Company Commander had been ousted and the new one had declared we could have visiting privileges. And a couple times she just stopped by the door and greeted me (well, us really, but I felt she was speaking directly to me -- as the rest each thought, too, I have no doubt). That lovely lady became my true heroine, my mentor, and the one I trusted completely. I loved her! She had a true gift in those hands of hers! This is such a beautiful part of the memory ... and do you know what? ... I did need the rest!
I just want to tell you how much I appreciate The Bulletin. I know a lot of hard work goes into putting this together and wanted you to know it is appreciated.
Also in particular I've enjoyed the story about your life, Dorothy, and your recollection about your polio. I find stories like this amazing, along with all the others. I just wanted you to know this and keep up your good work!
Susan Wright is Don's niece (Elwood's daughter). She is a Bulletin subscriber. I have her e-mail address if anyone wishes to send a note. The last postal address I have for her is below her letter, though I don't know if it's current. --DMA
Dear friends and family,
Bill's mother passed away at the age of 97, on Sunday, March 1st. She fell on January 23rd and spent three days in the hospital and then spent almost four weeks in a nursing home for rehabilitation. We moved her into Brittany's home where she went home to be with the Lord after 12 days. She was surrounded by her son and daughter-in-law, six grandchildren and their three spouses, and four great grandchildren. We are having her service on Thursday.
Bill and Susan Wright
Last Week's Bulletin Review JKL
I don't know if it is the photographer, the camera or the most magnificent scenery that makes that first picture so breathtaking. Can it be possible that it is our friend, Kjirsten rather than a commercial photograph? Whatever, there are no words to describe the wonderful thrill of skiing down that area. We have some adventurous and daring Swensons.
We hardly know how our Editor must feel without the computer working this past week. We can only hope it gets back in working order soon. To be so dependant on a computer and then suddenly lose it, would be very disappointing. Where would we be without electricity and computers? A lot of people are finding out in the storms and fire and flood areas.
The update by Kjirsten was one we have been waiting for ever since we realized she had been on such extended trips to far away destinations. To know how she could ever keep up with her grueling classes and medical school responsibilities was such a puzzle, but it was so well explained and we are glad for her to be able to have fun in between classes and tests. Then to choose a specialty would be most time consuming and research needed, but help from her dad likely advised the best plan from now on. We wish you well in all your endeavors and all your choices and all your successes thus far.
And leave it to Bitzi to find something artistic in a drift of snow. Very appropriate to have that picture right after Kjirsten's ski story. Our photo editor is very quick to see possibilities in the ordinary, and make them a part of The Bulletin, making it so personal and a valued keepsake.
Sarah has gotten herself involved in quite a hobby. She probably either teaches Levi and Kira as she works or else sits them down with a toy. The vivid color in the photograph looks so sharp, even on a printed copy.
I didn't know if I should make the whole LTTE one long, loud THANKS TO WESTON, or treat it normally. There is no expression I can think of to comment on the reaction I felt to read that touching, detailed, tender, heartwarming account of the confessions of a sportsaholic from the very heart of the little boy inside Weston as he admits and confesses how this sports obsession began and continued until this very day.
As he looks back, which he must have done quite seriously to have remembered all the little things he wrote about, he would realize that as a little boy he was already an addict of the Twins and Vikings. No matter which sport, it seems it fed a craving in Weston that only deepened with the years.
I am so glad someone saved the pictures that were included in the story. What a treasure to have those with all three brothers and their enthusiasm for every team popular at the time. I know nothing about the sports world, but I can't help but feel an enthusiasm when I see it all through Weston's eyes. Baseball, football, basketball and even hockey. That is so remarkable. Does Ben favor Beaver or do I just imagine that in these pictures?
The Matriarch Speaks told us by Jerrianne that the Monkey Wrench really ruined all possibilities of The Bulletin coming out at the normal time from the Editor's computer. If anyone doesn't think we owe a lot to Jerrianne, the Photo Editor, just take a look at Bulletin #350 that she had to be responsible for, and we thank you for making it available on the Web for us, if we choose to look it up, which I did. We have no idea what all goes on in the background of each issue, and I wonder if we say thank you sincerely enough as a subscriber.
Thank you for putting that lovely picture of Dorothy on each chapter of the Memory Lane section. It touches my heart deeply to read the honest admissions from Dorothy's heart to ours about her experience that we can only imagine, and then not really know the emotional side.
I remember visiting Lorraine (Peterson) Tabor in the hospital, and the smell of the hot wool rags they wrapped her limbs in as she lay in the iron lung. Those sounds and smells and sights remain vivid to me. One admires the patients for just continuing on in life and accepting whatever effects that disease is still having on their body and lives. No one will ever be able to enter into the feelings and pain, but we continue to be thankful their lives were spared to us even yet.
I had to smile at the Homesteading Days this time about the convention trip. I do not remember those years he tells about, but my first time at convention was in 1930, carried as a baby, and travel was so much more comfortable and possible by then.
Can't you just imagine how those ladies and that little boy reacted to the going in circles in the 1931 DeSoto? Bruce could hear it yet.
The Travelogue brought us to both Sheldon and Mitzi returning home, leaving Kjirsten on her own to continue her travel desires. I personally can not enter into the stamina and courage and bravery that it took to go on alone ... all alone. The links were another whole story in themselves. I see those garments mentioned in pictures of our friends in other countries. They are so beautiful, and appear easy to wear. Kanga. Words fail me to comment on the Land Rover incident, or the vendors. Just can say one thing, we are glad Kjirsten made it back home safely. I see Kjirsten is having a birthday March 11th. Congratulations.
The CHUCKLES this week shows that little Hunter Holman is no longer little. He is certainly looking older, and I'd say quite capable as he offers to do any fixing needed around the house. That's what happens to these little cute babies, they grow up -- all too fast.
I think by now the Editor's computer should be up and running again, at least I hope so. I don't like the feeling and confusion and dilemma of not being able to write to or hear from Don and Dorothy.
So, until next Saturday morning, we will take it as it comes, and thanks to Jerrianne for being there in every way. I suppose we should also say thanks to Miss Kitty and Mai Tai, too, as they are part of the team.
I loved the Quotation for the Day this time, too, and it was timely. To just take life as it happens. Easier said than done, we are finding out.
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: How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are? --Satchel Paige
EDITOR'S POLICY: If you wish to subscribe to The Bulletin, simply send me a statement of that fact. If you wish to keep receiving it I hope you will contribute to one of the columns that are running in this family epistle (at least occasionally!). My e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org
This Bulletin is copyright Dorothy M. Anderson; the contents are also copyrighted by the authors and photographers and used with their permission, and the contents are not to be used for any commercial purposes without the explicit consent of the creators.