Editor's Comments:
I have procured the services of an expert in home remodeling, who is willing to field any remodeling queries. (Not Bonded, Not Insured, Not Guaranteed)
Refer all questions to Mr. In-A-Jam In care of The Bulletin.

From Rachel


Sorry, once again I am behind. And without any real excuse either! Basketball is finished for me so now I have a little more time for a while! I'm not doing any spring sports, but I'm going to have some NAR training for a month during April. I have to go 4:30 to 9:30 for three weeks and then do a week in a nursing home before I can work (as a nurses' aide). So that's exciting; it should be a good job I think ... decent money anyway.

Right now I'm working towards my driver's license. I had two behind the wheel driver's ed. classes so far, so I have to go to Waconia and the cities still, then I take the test. Gramma, I'm sure you've heard this before from other "to-be 16" year olds huh? But it'll kind of make life a little simpler without having to worry about getting rides all the time!

Man, when I heard that the Johnsons went down to see you two, I wanted to hop in with them! Hope for a visit that way soon. That's about it newswise, since I still haven't had any luck with the boy aspect of things. Oh well. There's time. Hope everything's going well down there!

Luv ya!
Rachel Marie

Student Section: Class Assignment

Tell us about an interesting project, paper, or piece of research work that you are doing this semester-be sure to include the subject and perhaps a little about the instructor.

Eric was the first to send his reply.

So you would like to know about what kind of projects I've been doing in school, huh? Let's see... well just last week for my Psychology class we all had to make collages detailing the major parts of the central nervous system and the peripheral nervous system. The basic idea was to find pictures in magazines or newspapers of things that you thought related to various nervous system parts. After failing miserably to find anything in our limited selection of magazines, I came up with an idea that can only be described as pure genius. I got out Leona's camera and just took the pictures I needed. It was an interesting project when all was said and done.

I used a Tupperware to represent the cortex that surrounds the brain, a lamp with a cord made a fine neuron with its many parts and I took the side off of my computer and photographed the hard drive within to symbolize the hippocampus of the limbic system in the forebrain which controls the functions of storing and recalling memory... just like a hard drive.

Granted, the whole thing reeked of the busy work they gave us back in grade school, but this is community college after all.

I got me a big ol' A on the project, by the way.

Keep up the great work with the bulletin.

Then came Ben's

I don't know if this actually qualifies as interesting, but it is kinda cool. In my music class, we talk about music in other cultures. There are things called ethnomusicologies, which is the study of ethnic music. We have to look at some reports that people have made on other culture's music and do a little paper on it. The class is kind of interesting, but it can get to be pretty boring. Our teacher gets into it, which is a help ... kinda weird though.


A Scientific Experiment
By Beaver

A curious mind and an impulsive nature can be a dangerous combination. While this is a lesson that I seem to have to learn over and over, a big yellow tomcat taught me that I was going to have to learn to think before I put my ideas into action.

Our second grade class was learning about cats. Mrs. Evavold had us read a story and looked at pictures. We learned that cats can fall a long way without getting hurt, and that they always land on their feet. I had been around cats all my life, but didn't know they had such talent.

I was still thinking about what amazing things my friends, the cats, could do later that day when I got home from school. Then it struck me. I would do a scientific experiment! Our big yellow tomcat was sitting in the sun by the feed shed. I sauntered over and picked him up. He was a big fellow for a second grader to carry, but I was on a mission.

"Nice kitty, kitty, I crooned, as I carried the big yellow tomcat toward the barn. He purred contentedly as I trudged up the hill. We went through the haymow door and began climbing up the hay bales that rose like stair steps toward the rays of sunlight shining through the highest window in the end wall. It was a long, hard climb.

"Nice kitty, kitty, " I told the big yellow tomcat as we paused to rest halfway up. He purred happily. Visions of being a hero in school tomorrow danced in my head. I was doing a real scientific experiment! Maybe I could get Pa to bring the big yellow tomcat to school tomorrow for show and tell. The big yellow tomcat would be a hero, too.

Finally, we arrived at the window, way up by the roof. "Nice kitty, kitty," I stroked my fellow scientist as I peered down at the ground to make sure kitty would have a nice, flat place to land. It was a long way to the ground, but I wasn't worried. Mrs. Evavold had told us cats could fall a long way without getting hurt, and Pa always said it was nearly impossible to kill a cat.

"Nice kitty, kitty," I prepared my unknowing assistant for his big moment. The big yellow tomcat was lying across my arms, still purring. I thought I would just toss him out, giving him a quarter turn in the process, so he could go head first and see where he was going. I had a lot of respect for Mrs. Evavold and didn't want the big yellow tomcat to land upside down and prove her wrong.

We were ready. "Nice kitty, kitty," one last time, and I flung the big yellow tomcat out into thin air. The plan unraveled in an instant. The big yellow tomcat turned from soft and cuddly to a maelstrom of razor sharp claws. In less than a heartbeat, he was behind me, jumping down the bales and disappearing out the barn door. He had made a full turn just as I let go, using me for traction to claw himself back from his first try at flying. He had never quite gotten a good grip, climbing up my arms, across my face, and over my head at a rate of acceleration not nearly matched by the speed of his claw-bristling feet.

Blood oozed from the long scratches on my arms. I crawled down the bales, ran to a nearby truck, crawled up on the running board, and looked in the rear view mirror. My face looked worse than my arms. I felt the top of my head. My hand came away bloody. It would soon be supper time. What was Ma going to say?

I turned on the water pump behind the barn and washed off as much blood as I could. Sure enough, I heard Ma calling my sisters and me for supper. It seemed best to pretend nothing had happened. I slipped into the house and went directly to the bathroom to wash up, without being told. As I sat down at the table, I could feel all eyes turning toward me.

"What in the world happened to you?" were my mother's first words.

"Well, nothing, the cat scratched me a little when I was playing with him."

I was still oozing blood. My mother was used to seeing me come in pretty bedraggled, but this was a little worse than usual. I suppose she wanted to make sure that I wasn't needing shots after being mauled by a rabid badger. I knew by the look on her face that no story I could think of was going to work. Nobody was going to understand that I had been conducting a scientific experiment, either. So, I simply said, "I was trying to drop the big yellow tomcat out the top window in the hayloft to see if he would land on his feet."

The reaction to that was just about as bad as being mauled by the cat. They all lit into me at once. My sisters felt sorry for the cat. No amount of explaining would convince them that the cat could fall that far without getting hurt, even if Mrs. Evavold said so. Ma couldn't decide whether I was more lucky to not have fallen out with the cat, or to still have my eyes. Pa said the cat sure could have gotten hurt. By this time all the females in the house were looking at me as if I had suddenly turned into a murderous monster.

Ma got out the antiseptic. She chose her antiseptic according to the belief that the more it stung, the more good it would do. She seemed to get some satisfaction out of my writhing and squawking as she soaked my wounds with the nasty stuff.

That night, as I twisted and turned in bed, trying to find a comfortable position where nothing chafed my wounds, I realized that I probably wasn't going to be a scientist anytime soon. First I was going to have to learn what the big yellow tomcat already knew: look before you leap!

Let's Ask Mom or Grandma

This is a restatement of a question that I am going to continue answering I don't really have lot of news for your bulletin but I enjoy it tremendously. I read today's bulletin and really liked the family history you provided. I guess my only question for you would be if you have any stories about the accomplishments, successes or achievements of any of our female relatives? I would enjoy hearing more about them.

Lori, I would like to introduce you to another of the women of our family who have had special and worthwhile lives. This is another Great Aunt -- one from the Anderson side -- actually a Berndt, the youngest sister of Grandma Cleo. She was kind enough to tell us a little about her background. Meet Lollie Grob--

Aunt Lollie

Carl and I were married June 27th, 1941; Carl was drafted into the army approximately 11 months later. He was in Louisiana a short time and went overseas in about three months. I never got to see him before he left.

I started working at the Twin Cities Arsenal at New Brighten, MN. I lived with another friend whose husband also was gone to service. After about A year and a half another friend and I decided to go to Seattle where Carl's aunt and uncle worked in a ship yard. We got jobs there putting up bulkheads in the ships. It was easy to find jobs then.

It was cold working on the sheet metal in the winter, so we decided to go to California. Ruby got a job at an army depot and I got a job with the East Bay transit Company. I made out the application and found the job driving street cars. It was a challenging job as I wasn't familiar with the streets. But after a little while I learned a lot of them. I really liked it and met many people.

It was hard to find a place to rent so we had one room which was not heated but the land lady told us to turn on the light bulb which wasn't much help. Later on we found an apartment. This was in Oakland, CA. My company had The A train over the Bay bridge to San Francisco. It was beautiful there and we liked it.

Carl came back in 1945. He had been gone a long time and he was anxious to go back to MN and ND so we left CA. (Ruby stayed there and got married and later returned to Minneapolis.) Carl loved farming, so that's what we did, on my parents' farm. We were fortunate to save some money together and bought a brand new pickup (which was very hard to get.)

Carl developed Multiple Sclerosis but kept working as hard as he could. With the help of the children and neighbors and me, we continued farming for several years. We moved from our farm to Arizona in 1969. I went into the Real Estate Business, and Carl helped me as much as he could. I am still an Agent. (If you are looking for a house with a beautiful view
-- see me!!)

Several things were different during the war years. Rationing was a must. Now it's almost unbelievable how our stores are so packed with everything at your fingertips. Jobs were plentiful then and it seemed everyone wanted to work. Everyone seemed to care about their neighbors and were ready to help in time of need and still had time to visit, even though we didn't have all the modern and time saving things we have now.

Love to you all from Aunt Lollie!

By Beaver
On to Texas (part 2)

We set out from Springfield, heading for Dallas, TX, at 8:30 A.M. on January 26th, leaving Cat Who Barks with Don and Dorothy in hopes that she would like it there and not want to go home. We rolled into Oklahoma, passing under a MacDonald's that arches all the way over the turnpike. We drove through some pretty lake country in Oklahoma, and found our way to my cousin Rick's house in Dallas. He and his wife, Nancy, made us feel very much at home.

At my request, Rick and Nancy took us to the Fort Worth Stockyards on the morning of Jan 27th. Over 160 million head of livestock were sold there from 1849 until the 1950's. Numerous brick buildings are being converted to tourist attractions, which include Billy Bob's Texas Honky Tonk, a huge dance hall that hosts many big name country stars. They must think they have quite a place, costs a buck just to go in and look around.

We watched the twice-a-day cattle drive, consisting of a dozen or so cowboys and cowgirls herding about two dozen droopy looking Longhorns around the block. The cowboys, as well as the cattle, didn't look to me like they had ever been off the pavement. It was fun for me to try to visualize how it most have been around the turn of the century, when cattle were being herded in by cowboys on horseback, sold to be slaughtered and hauled out by train. The rail system is known as "The Tarantula" because of the many directions the tracks branch out from Fort Worth.

We set out on the 90-mile drive to Waco on the morning of January 28th. There we met D's cousin Stan, who got us set up in his awesome travel trailer, The Hilton. We spent two days there, where I got to know Stan, Janice, Earl, Kathleen, and their offspring. (Not to forget Max the Schnauzer and Spot the black cat.)

We checked out the Texas Ranger Museum at my request. (Learned some history; Stan summed it up as "lotsa guns." I learned a new phrase from Stan: "Been there, done that, got the shirt").

We drove to Stan's ranch, passed by Fort Hood (largest military base in U.S., lots of activity going on), and visited some places that D remembered from previous time spent in Texas. We drove past President Bush's ranch and had coffee at the little cafe where the president has his coffee in Crawford.

Along the same road, we saw Great Pyrenees dogs with flocks of sheep. When we stopped for a picture, the dog herded the sheep to the far end of the pasture, then loped over and faced us through the fence until we drove away. I greatly enjoyed getting off the big road and seeing how people live in rural Texas.

Stan was a wonderful guide. I very much enjoyed getting to know all of his family; they are great people, fun to visit, and make a person feel right at home. Family members who are interested in more details of this part of our trip, I'm sure D can fill you in.

We left the warm cocoon of the Dake family at noon January 30th, heading for San Antonio. Now we're really on our own; no more relatives until we get to Springfield on the way home.

Let me interject at this point: I am not going to mention any antique shops. (Have you heard the phrase "too numerous to mention"?) I will say that it helps to travel in the off-season; some of them are actually closed. Likewise, I will not include any meal menus; if you really want to know, D has all this in her notes (which she wrote while I drove.) I typed them up; I think 12 pages, single-spaced).

Chanticleer: Confidential
True Confessions of an Executive Chef
Installment Seven: More Kitchen Characters
By Douglas A. Anderson

If you are ever writing a restaurant expose' column and need stories about colorful characters, the steward department will probably be the first place you should look. A steward, is, of course, what we now call dishwashers. Sometimes we call them other things, but this is a family bulletin, so I will let that go.

Looking back, no steward stands out more vividly in my memory than Orville. Orville is Dweedledee sans Dweedledum, or perhaps the other way around. Weighing in at a whopping 350 pounds like some mutated overgrown child sumo wrestler, Orville will probably be remembered as one of the greatest dishwashers ever to have run the big machine. In The International Who's Who of Stewards, I'm sure Orville's pig-like smile beams proudly.

Don't let the "child" part confuse you, Orville is forty-something, but has a mental age of around five or six, and the strength of a team of mules. Kind of like Mike Tyson, but nicer. Like all Super heroes, Orville has his fatal flaw, his Achilles's heel: Lasagna. Or, as he calls it, "Lass-on'-yuh."

Being diabetic, it's not hard to understand his distraction with cheesy, creamy pasta dishes. When the half-full pans come back from Rotary, he is tempted like a classic mythological hero, but he always prevails. On the other hand, he maintains a considerable girth for someone who never seems to give in. Our kitchen is huge; there are plenty of places to sneak off to and eat "Lass-on'-yuh."

Another steward I will always remember fondly is Tabb. Tabb was also forty-something, but with a mental age of about sixteen. His stunted intellectual condition was the result of inhalants, or so he told us, but I always suspected he was just plain squirrelly.

One day Tabb came to work with shaven arms. When I asked him why he had shaved his arms, he said he had seen someone do it on T.V. I suggested that maybe he shouldn't watch so much T.V. He said he had stopped watching his favorite show M*A*S*H*, because it made him want to fall off the wagon. Poor, impressionable Tabb! Thrown about by the winds of media deception.

A few months later, Tabb came in wearing his best Mr. Rogers pullover sweater and announced that dish washing was just too much for his nerves, and that he had given his two-weeks' notice. There wasn't a dry eye in the kitchen. Tabb was so touched that he was compelled to sign on for another year. He finally did leave us, however; but I still see him hanging out at the library. I imagine he's probably watching videos to get some new ideas.

This Week's Cooking Tip: Don't always stampede for the salt. When you're putting the finishing touches on your award-winning four-alarm chili and something seems to be missing, there are other options. Why not a jolt of Balsamic vinegar? Vinegar can add missing saltiness with a rounded verve that will keep your guests guessing.


I had written the following letter to Rick Anderson. His answer was so interesting I asked him if I could include it in The Bulletin -- with his permission --

Do you think you would like an inner-city job for regular? (Have you read "Up the Down Staircase"?) I don't think I could be tough enough to make a go of that situation. Is your work part of the requirements toward your doctorate? The Editor

Hi! Thanks for the message. I've heard of "Up the Down Staircase" but haven't read it. Is it set in Australia or England? I know others have recommended it, too. Something for "summer" reading!

My work at the high school is part of a project for a research methods class that is part of my doctoral studies in mathematics education. I'm starting to wonder what "inner-city" really means! I had thought of inner-city being near the city center. In Portland, however, the high school that is on the edge of downtown is one of the "best" high schools in the area. (Doesn't fit the stereotype of "underperforming" inner-city school.) One reason is because the "rich" kids that live in the hills near downtown go there.

The school that I've been going to is about 20 minutes from downtown and could almost be considered "suburban" by distance. I suppose some of it has to do with the historical development of the area. The school I'm at is near the docks and port so there are probably more "working class" families in the area due to the industry there.

It also isn't a "huge" school like I usually think of "urban" schools. In fact, there are fewer students at this high school (about 1000 in four grades) than in the junior high I taught at in Fargo (about 1100 students in two grades). In the last few years the enrollment at the high school has been decreasing because the school has gotten a "bad" reputation, so many of the families are moving their students to other high schools in the area. An interesting situation!

I just realized it is nearly time to go to class! Hope all is well there.

Say "hi" to Don, too.


A Message from Elaine

This quote is one I have often used for myself and my family. It seems one can often get "down" when the sun is not shining. .... or in other words, when things don't always look bright. With the blustery, cloudy day yesterday, and with winter's hopefully last, cold fling, I decided to make some sunshine!

Noting it was Muriel's 24th anniversary of working in court (and what can be more depressing work than with people's problems?), I checked with Mindy ... and so we arranged to have flowers delivered to work. (She's one of the longest working employees at the court house.) Then we arranged to have Meryl pick her up from work and come over here for supper, as Mindy brought pizza and I had a salad and dessert made here.

What a surprise when the spring bouquet with the goldfinch came for HER!!!!!. and then to have Meryl drive into my driveway instead of to her house! Anyway, it was a great fun time, and a reminder that we can MAKE sunshine when the sun is not shining. It can simply be the first dandelion or lilac of spring, or a McDonald's for a surprise; it does not matter ... it's just to do a little surprise to make the day more pleasant for ourselves or for others.

This is just a reminder to make sunshine for anyone needing a day brightener!

I picked this little item out of the Glencoe newspaper.

Junior point Nick Johnson had 13 points, nine rebounds and eight assists for GSL, which also received 19 points from senior forward Dan Henderson and 13 from junior Gunnar Wagoner.

Our Present Staff:
EDITORS: Mom, Grandma, Dorothy, etc.
Beaver------Ashby Correspondent
Doug -------St. Cloud Correspondent
Rich---------Mr. In-A-Jam(b) &
Kim------and his assistant