Sunday, June 6, 2004
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Editor's Note: Kathleen is the daughter of Lois and Bill Dake (my brother).
Texas Cousins invading Minnesota
by Kathleen Stahlecker
Just wanted to let everyone that direction know our plans. Carol and I have plane tickets from Nebraska on Friday, July 2, into Minneapolis. We will fly US Airways and should get there around 1:29 P.M. We then fly out back to Nebraska on Monday, July 5, at 2:50 PM. I am not sure yet if Stan or Patricia will be coming; they have not said one way or the other. I know Stan's deal depends a lot on what Jacob will be doing as far as summer sports. We talked to James the other day and told him everything. It did not sound like he could come, but we will keep him informed of our plans. He was in Michigan at the time but they were fixing to move to Kansas. So he is still in y'all's direction.
Ardis & Ginny -- maybe you guys could talk and figure out a plan. We would appreciate it if someone could pick us up on Friday and deliver us back to the airport on Monday. The only thing that would need to figure into the plans is that we would like to be in meeting Sunday morning somewhere. Past that, whatever is planned is fine with us. We know that the reunion is for the cousins, so we are not sure if Uncle Leroy's or Aunt Dorothy's, etc. will be there, but would like to see them also, if possible, on Sunday or sometime if they are not.
I know that this is trying to cram a lot into a short period. Earl and I would like to come that way for a week or so in the next few years for a vacation. Of course, I am not sure how far Aunt Dorothy and them live from any of this. If you guys can't pick us up, etc. we can rent a car, but neither of us is real sure of driving in Minneapolis and, of course, for sure not me with the one eye and not familiar with things.
Anyway, let us know if you can come up with a plan and what it is and we will try to fit in. Wish we could stay longer, but Mom and Earl and Aaron will be waiting in Nebraska with Harold and Cody, so we need to get back to there so we can see the rest of Carol's family before heading home. Love to all, and hope to see you soon, Kathleen
An Answer to the Invaders...
With three drivers at the house, picking you up should not be a problem. Maybe it would work if you stay here Friday and go to Howard Lake with us Saturday and then back to LeRoy's for Sunday meeting. We can always get you back to the airport, if needed. Just a thought ... We can work the plans as we get closer. Glad you guys can make it...
THANKS to our CREW!
A big thank you to the wonderful clean up crew we had! What a successful day. They all worked very hard and did a super job!
The Cat Shack, Ice House and a portion of the barn (former sheep nursery) were cleared out and a good deal of the "STUFF" reorganized (comment here ... and Beaver says I have "STUFF"?? hmmmmm).
Wyatt built a whole new set of shelves down the middle of the old nursery and they are going to be a tremendous addition. He also wired more lighting into that area, so we can actually see what we are going in there for; that's a nice thing :-)
Each building was a big mess and it was a very dirty job, so by the end of the day each of the helpers showed they'd been working hard -- their clothes proved it. (Thanks, Becky, for washing their clothing.) Dave helped me with the cooking and Becky did a lot of the kitchen clean up, so thanks to them too!
Cleaning Crew: Jessy (Chris's girl friend), Chris, Beaver, Wyatt (with Sparky), Weston and Lori in front of the old Ice House.
See Ice House story in Home Spun Memories, below.
Dog Days Arrived Early At The Farm...
Yapping, growling, barking were the norm this weekend! So, I thought I'd share all of our doggy pals with you all too. Wyatt is holding their dog, Atley. Rylie is getting a kiss from Ben's dog, Buster. Next is Jessy holding her dog, Scout (a gift from Chris). Caity is holding Reesy and also wearing her Pluto dog slippers from Great Grandpa. Above Caity is Chris holding Mindy (the dog given to us from my parents). Then it's Lori with her dog, Jake; he almost blends into her outfit. Jayce and Beaver are down front with our two "working" dogs: Lexie (head turned towards Beaver) and Sparky.
by Kristi Indermark
We have a new addition to our family. Jim and I must have looked at a thousand new and used vehicles and test drove a hundred. Finally we found a great deal 60 miles away. We test drove it on Saturday and bought it on Monday. Jim is thrilled because now, instead of driving his 1994 Buick with no air conditioning, he drives my old Jeep and I get to drive the new Dodge Grand Caravan. There is so much room. Space everywhere!!! I am a first time mini-van owner and I love it. We are taking our new addition on its first road trip, to Disney World, this weekend. I will be able to pack so much more. I think I can bring all my shoes!
Our new Dodge Grand Caravan
Silly L key! on Computer
by Leona Anderson (Eric's wife)
As some of you know, my "L" key has been bothering me for a while on this silly laptop of mine. It especially isn't helpful that my name begins with the letter L. I get to ship my laptop back to the good folks at Dell, and they are going to fix it for me... I hope. But I won't be able to access this email account on Eric's computer, so if you want to keep in touch, please email me at my U of M email address: email@example.com
Day to Day R
With Donna Mae
Jayce On Grandma's Treadmill
We had a visit this week from a teacher of Jayce's with instructions of how to help him learn to hold his pencil more correctly. (A special little plastic holder assists him with remembering the best way.) He's been practicing and practicing. I noticed he'd even practiced on the bathroom wall and the door ... hmmm.
His teacher also mentioned that we had to work on building the muscles in his little legs. Her suggestions were that he do as much as possible, including always walking while in the stores. (I've done that most of the time and he has VERY busy little hands.) His Mom will now have to give up the stroller and risk losing him in the stores. Wish her luck!
Today I had my self propelling treadmill moved into the living room, near my desk, and Jayce played on it for a few minutes. He got a pretty good run going, even working up to some panting. I just had to get a picture of his little chicken legs running on the treadmill and share it with all of you!
This past week Caity has spent many hours playing Monopoly with Dave, on several different occasions. They've hooted and hollered, having a wonderful time. She's become quite the real estate queen!
Today she's had her friend, Kerstyn (one of my day care girls) here all day and she is spending the night. They've spent the day swinging, splashing wildly in the little pool on the deck, riding their bikes, and many other things to make for a fun filled summer vacation day.
Now they've had their baths and have their p.j.s on. I asked what they were going to do ... as Caity was getting out the Monopoly game.
She looked up at me and said, "We are going to play Monopoly, (and now the part that made me laugh to myself...) the old fashioned way..."
At least they recognize a fun game ... even if it's in the "old fashioned" form!
The Bolivian Beat
By Kjirsten Swenson
So we're still striking... two weeks of classes lost and counting. Nearly every day I've been wandering the villages surrounding Morochata in good company. Sometimes the residents gather [for vaccinations], but other times we carry a backpack and cooler house to house looking for victims.
Last week Friday I traveled to an isolated community with a BRISA team. BRISAs are 5-person teams of doctors, dentists, and nurses who travel in pickup trucks loaded with medical supplies to the most isolated populations to provide health care. They collaborate with Hospital Morochata to determine when and where they go. I've always looked forward to their occasional refueling and shower stops at the hospital here; the Morochata group is young and super fun. Due to classes, I've never been able to travel with them, but last Friday the driver showed up to re-supply and invited me to accompany him back to the community where they were working, spend the night and next day with the team, and return to Morochata Saturday night.
To reach Vela Rancho, we traveled to the top of a 14,000 foot pass and then meandered across hill tops and around peaks for 3 hours to reach a 2-km footpath that led to a small school and cluster of adobe thatched roof houses. On the way we passed lots of herds of llama and alpaca. Halfway there we stopped at an unmarked house where the driver knew we'd find trout. Head or tail, the señora asked me... Fried fish heads are tasty, don Benito tells me, but as long as fillets are available I prefer not to confirm his claim.
The people in Vela Rancho are truly poor, definitely worse off than most of what I've seen close to Morochata. People there subsist nearly exclusively on potatoes. In the two days we were there, I saw not one vegetable or piece of fruit. At that altitude, they don't grow and apparently the people don't bring them. Meat and non-potato carbohydrate sources are served only on very special occasions. That night we arrived to find the other BRISAs huddled around a fire on the school steps. It was cold! We slept on the floor of an empty adobe school room and nearly froze. To add itch to misery, I awoke with a half-dozen bed bug bites on my tummy :( No one left their sleeping bag until the sun finally peeked over the hill at 8.
That morning we took a walk, advising the people at each home that the team had arrived and would attend all day. At the last, the señora invited each of us to a mug of sweetened hot water, plus a large bowl filled to the brim with potatoes, chuño (freeze-dried potatoes), and 1/3 of an egg on top. Breakfast! I discreetly dropped a couple of the biggest potatoes in my pocket and managed to stomach the rest, thus avoiding being a poor-mannered guest. All morning and afternoon we were busy, busy vaccinating and attending. At lunchtime the people invited us to boiled potatoes and oka, a type of sweet potato, for lunch. An hour later we each were served bowls with no less than 6 six potatoes, a scoop of rice, and perhaps two bites of meat. I proudly finished my rice but added my potatoes to the bag... Having consumed enough potatoes for a week or two, we said goodbye, piled into the pickup, and reached Morochata by late evening.
Last Monday a dozen students from Sweden, Norway, and Finland appeared in Morochata! Never before had so many blondes occupied the town at once... The lady who works for the local government and had organized the visit is a friend of mine and she called me to help with translation. They all spoke perfect English but not much Spanish... After eating fry bread and drinking a hot corn drink for breakfast, they were ushered to the half-completed basketball court next to the church. While being entertained by songs and dances, they served as the morning entertainment for lots of Morochateños who sat on the opposite hill and stared. Later they gathered in the school with the oldest Morochata students for a question/answer session.
Yesterday was Mother's Day in Bolivia, and it also happened to be my Bolivian mom's birthday. So we had two excuses to celebrate :) Today I plan to wander markets, hang out in the SIT office for a while, and wash my filthy jacket. Two birthday parties tomorrow, and then another early morning trip back to Morochata...
Away I go,
Kjirsten, Dr. Juan, and a curious class
This photo was taken during a two-day vaccination campaign in the remote country an hour or two outside of Morochata. After eating more potatoes than I care to recall (refusing would have been gravely rude), we took pictures! The students were fascinated by my digital camera.
*Photo Editor's Note: If you wish to see more of Kjirsten's photos, this is from her Morochata, Bolivia, album posted here: http://community.webshots.com/user/kjswenson
I woke up in the car, my head full of half dissolved dreams and ambiguous anxieties. I was sure I was missing something, but I didn't know what. I had been dreaming that I was back in school and class was being held in a mountain meadow, a refreshing change from the standard classroom I was accustomed to. In my dream, no one seemed to notice this pleasant absurdity but me, which is standard in dreams of this type.
I was glad to be safe in the back seat of our trusted El Dorado and far from school, even if it was being held by a babbling brook. Our automobile tour of the Great Western States was drawing to its close and we had just bid farewell to our Grandmother and Aunt Delores and set out to complete what had been a thrilling and exhaustive chapter of our lives. We released our great whale of a car back to its asphalt ocean, diminished, but determined to finish what we had started.
Then we saw it.
My sister Patty saw it first, actually.
"Hey look, Rummage Sale!"
I capitalize Rummage Sale to demonstrate the reverence in which we held the concept of people selling used merchandise from their homes. We could not endorse this practice enough and regarded missing an invitation to rifle through a stranger's belongings akin to sacrilege. You probably know this concept as garage sale, which is only a matter of regional idiolect and not important to this story. What was really exciting to us was the opportunity to sample the exotic junk of people who lived in other states. The experience was as foreign to us as haggling with a camel salesman in Marrakech.
Naturally, I headed straight for the magazines and records. I thumbed through the pile with mounting disdain. What do girls see in these comics? I mused to myself. Anyone can see that Betty and Veronica are the same girl with different hair color, and Casper is obviously Rich Rich's ghost. I then leveled my laser-like adolescent derision at our hosts' record collection. Beethoven, what a hack. Pavarotti, Mozart, Debussy, charlatans all. Where do they keep the good records? I sneered to myself.
Then I spied something interesting.
Thrown in with the assorted broken children's toys were two pair of genuine Everlast boxing gloves. They were as beautiful to my twelve year old soul as cut diamonds could have ever been to a Borneo savage. I snatched them up, pronto, as my western cousins might have said, and started the inevitable process of getting them past the scrutiny department.
"Will you really use them?" Mom asked.
"Yes, I will, I promise."
"Well, no hitting each other in the head!"
"Sure, Mom, no hitting each other in the head." Free and clear.
The gloves sat in my closet for one entire school year, a monument to my Mother's intuition. Who would I box with? I was the new kid at a strange school and subsequently at the very bottom of the junior high feeding chain, a virtual social untouchable. As I floundered through the tenuous beginnings of my junior high school career, the boxing gloves gathered dust, forgotten as the Lindy Hop.
Then came the inevitable boredom of our first summer in a strange town. We were transformed from country kids to city kids instantly and the culture shock was staggering. Enter: The Boxing Gloves.
Our new fixation started as free form sparring matches, but fast became organized fighting championships. That is, as organized as it could be, with only two contestants and a part-time referee. Sister Patty didn't seem interested in the whole concept of pummeling each other about the back and shoulders, so she opted for the referee position, so long as something more entertaining didn't come up first. Sister Marlene, on the other hand, was very keen on the idea of beating the stuffing out of her younger brother and therefore became my boxing nemesis. She would prove to be a very worthy one, indeed.
We remained true to my Mother's vision of interfamily boxing etiquette, for the most part, barring the odd accidental ricochet shot to the head. We viewed the accidental rabbit punch as a necessary evil which didn't hurt very much, so we forgave each other promptly and set all things right with the obligatory "Oops, Sorry."
The summer raged on.
One particularly humid August night, the boxing match got a little out of hand, as boxing matches tend to when tempers escalate due to excessive heat or repressed social hostility of the kind one associates with peer group rejection, but that is another story. I was bobbing and ducking, as usual, while Marlene was raining a relentless storm of dog paddle style kangaroo punches, some found, some not. Sister Patty had long grown bored with our bloodless and over-polite fighting contests and had gone off to write in her diary or some other such junior high mush along that line.
Unsupervised, our backyard prizefight grew slightly more vicious with each successfully landed blow.
"You meant to do that." I said, alluding to Marlene's most recent "accidental" ear shot.
"Don't be a baby," she said, grinning like a rabid Timber Wolf.
"Where's Patty?" I asked, backing slowly away towards the safety of the "corner," which was the trunk of our knotty front yard elm tree.
"She went to Tom Thumb. Now put up your gloves and fight like a man."
"I really think there should be a referee."
"Referee..." She turned the word in her mouth and spit it out. "You and your fancy Chinese words. Stop stalling around and get back in the ring."
I backed further into the tree trunk, pressing myself against it.
"You know what I'm looking at?" she asked, arching an eyebrow behind her "gloves up" defense stance.
"What?" I asked, stupidly.
"I am looking at..." She paused for effect: "The world's biggest sissy."
Where I come from, those are most definitely fighting words. I launched a barrage of poorly planned and executed alternating jabs, most likely supplying proof positive that her most recent assessment of my character had been accurate. My sister, a full foot taller than me, was not very impressed or intimidated by my assault. She held her gloves in front of her, deflecting most of my misguided blows and began to laugh. This only served to incense me further. I began to flail harder and more spastically, my face turning the color of a blanched Roma tomato.
"How's this?" I raged, between gasps. "Want some more?"
"Stop, you're tickling me." Marlene said.
"Oh, what's the point?" I concluded at last, pulling off my gloves and letting them fall to the ground. "Boxing is stupid. We're not even doing it properly." I collapsed under the elm tree.
"Paddle pool is more of a man's sport." I said, my voice drifting off into the summer night like a poplar seed.
Hats off to the crew who cleaned the Ice House and the Cat Shack ... two historic structures at the Johnson Farm. Donald B. Johnson (father of Beaver and Richard, Kathlyn, Mitzi and me) wrote these recollections of the Ice House in his memory book, published after his death in 1982. ~ Jerrianne
"One of the first years, (Pa) built an ice house on the farm. It's still called that, but has only held bolts and junk for a long time, now. The door faced north when it was an ice house, making it easier to fill. We could back the sleigh loads of ice to the door, by going a little past and then angling downhill. There was no foundation under it, but we later dug away some on the west side and made a sort of lean-to pole shed for the Model T. Later, we put a foundation between the posts, which is the west foundation of the ice house now.
"One of the hardest jobs of the whole year was sawing the ice out in the middle of Christina Lake to fill the ice house: cutting blocks by hand with a big six or seven foot ice saw, hauling them home with horses and sliding them on skids into the ice house. I think Sam Schram helped (Pa) the first years, until I left school at 14; after that, I was the helper."
"The first years Pa sawed (ice) both ways in place, out on the lake, to form blocks, when the lake ice was 18 to 24 inches thick. That was a lot of sawing. In later years, we got Earl Anderson to bring out an 'ice plow,' which was a long row of chisels fastened to the bottom of a beam like a breaking plow beam. We pulled it with horses and later with his Model T truck. It didn't plow all the way, but the blocks would break off with a chisel when you got a hole opened along one side."
"I never did last very long sawing, but from then on, I had the job of cleaning all the sawdust out of the ice house and putting it back in, over and around the ice. There was a lot of it, and if I left it too long in the ice house it would all be frozen solid, because it was always wet, and have to be picked loose. If I did it too early in the winter, it would all freeze solid in the pile outside and have to be picked loose out there.
"The sawdust would rot and more would have to be added every other year or so. Pa could usually get a big wagon boxful or two from Sivert Guldseth, who had a small lumber saw on his farm, a couple of miles northeast of town."
"When the ice was 'in' and the sawdust back in again, then we could take a deep breath and enjoy the winter."
This and That
by Elaine Wold
In the dim and distant past,
When life's tempo wasn't fast,
Grandma used to rock and knit,
Crochet, tat and baby sit.
When the kids were in a jam,
They could always count on "Gram."
In that day of gracious living,
Grandma was the gal for giving.
BUT TODAY she's at the gym,
Exercising to keep slim,
She's off touring with the bunch,
Or taking clients out to lunch.
Going north to ski or curl
All her days are in a whirl,
Nothing seems to stop or block her,
Now that Grandma's off her rocker!
Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of 5
This Week's Birthdays:
June 7---Shane Swenson
This Week's Anniversaries:
June 6---Wyatt and Jolene Johnson's Wedding Anniversary (6th)
June 7---Clark and Susan Smith (Miller) Wedding Anniversary (13th)
Many Happy Returns!
Tami Sue Anderson
Jason Hartwell Hunt
will be married on
June 18, 2004
More June Birthdays:
June 4---Merna Hellevang
June 18---Caity Chap
June 21---Ary Ommert
June 25---Ben Henderson
More June Anniversaries:
June 3---Ginny and Larry McCorkell's Wedding Anniversary (32nd)
June 19---Curt and Patty Henderson's Wedding Anniversary (22nd)
June 20---Rich and Marlene Johnson's Wedding Anniversary (23rd)
(Surely there must be some!)
June Holidays & Observances
June 4---Old Maid's Day
June 14---Flag Day
June 20---Father's Day
June 20---Summer Solstice (First Day of Summer)
To all our June graduates, including any we may have missed.
Dwight's birthday party...
Here's a picture of Dwight's birthday party... Janie (Get out your Who's Who sheet and you will confirm this is Don's brother and Janie is his wife.)
Thanks to Elaine Wold for sending the following account of an unusual observance. Her sister DeLoris facetiously complained about never having a special day -- that everybody else ... brides, graduates, Moms, etc. rates a day ... but not old maids. Oh, but they do!
June 4, the holiday which is least observed, was started in 1946. With soldiers returning from the war, there were numerous marriages taking place. However, not all got married. So thus was started OLD MAID'S DAY, a day which never developed into an observance.
Old Maids are never recognized much ... no bridal showers, weddings, baby showers, graduations, anniversaries, Mother's Day, or many more events ... However, in most families the Old Maid is the loyal one who may have had the chance for marriage, but remained single to fill other useful places. Many tended the older parents as they needed help; they are the ones who love and show concern for all the nieces and nephews and other family members. They remain "the unnoticed ones"... This was again noticed when the weekly Bible study subject was "WIDOWS IN THE BIBLE." Again, nothing is mentioned of the "old maids" there, either.
So we decided to do something about it. Looking it up, Mindy found that June 4 is the day ... along with Aesop's Birthday...
So Mindy, Muriel and I decided to surprise DeLoris with a treat. I stopped over (said I had an errand so she would be at home), and then Mindy came with pizza for supper, Muriel brought a beautiful table bouquet from the florist, and I had a bag of goodies ... shampoo, soaps, note cards, chocolate candy, Snickers bars, bubble bath, lotions, just to name a few of more than a dozen things. Muriel made a lovely computer card, (can't buy one) and I topped it off with a deck of Old Maid cards! So recognition not only to her, but to all those who deserve like recognition, for doing so much for everyone else! Thanks to all of you!!!!!!!
Miss Hetty and Miss Kitty have declined to offer comment for publication on how they spent the "unnoticed holiday" ... but be assured that it did not pass unnoticed by either of them...
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?
I really enjoyed the Bulletin I received today, and I always mean to mention, but forget... I so enjoy Kjirsten's stories. I somehow missed the beginning of her reports, so am not quite sure what she's doing there. Can you fill me in?
Also, I would love to mention how happy I am for my very special nephew, Dan Mellon, on his graduation and accomplishments. He is a very special person and we all love him dearly.
I really enjoyed Don's story of his time in the Navy. Those kinds of stories are a wonderful piece of family history, and I truly enjoy stories like that.
Answer, from Mitzi (Kjirsten's mom)
Kjirsten went to Bolivia last August for a study-abroad program on Bolivian culture and development. In December she graduated with a degree in cultural and social anthropology from Rice University in Houston. Beginning in July 2005 she will attend Baylor Medical School in Houston. The Rice/Baylor program required that she use the time after graduating 1-1/2 years early from college in a "meaningful way" and approved her plan to stay in Bolivia to volunteer. She is an EMT Intermediate and is also certified to teach English as a second language, so is using those skills along with her interest in anthropology in the village where she lived last November while completing her independent study.
How are you?! Has the snow melted yet? How are the kids & grandkids? Is there a wedding in the plans yet for Heidi and her young man?
Who do I need to talk with to get on your mailing list for your newsletter? I really miss reading the copies when we came to visit. I really miss coming to visit! I REALLY miss you!!!!!!!
Well, Bryan, Jason, and I are off to Washington, DC, tomorrow with the high school band. They are playing in the parade at the dedication of the new World War II Memorial. Jason is going to carry one side of the banner.
Michael will be home mid-June, but you may see him before I do! His dad is going out to pick him up, and Michael will spend a week with him before coming home.
Certainly you may use my letter with Michael's email address. I am certain he would love to hear from you and the family. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
We arrived home yesterday from D.C. It was a good trip -- the band did a beautiful job in both the parade and playing at the Jefferson Memorial. When I get my pictures downloaded, I'll send you some.
Can't wait to read the newsletter -- I'm sorely out of touch!
Now that school is over, it's time to finish my Master's -- just one more class and write my paper. Hope to be finished by July 1.
I'd better go -- have homework and reading to do.
Kellie [Thayer] and The Guys
Reading Beaver's account of the veterans observing Memorial Day really touched my heart! Having brothers who served in WW2 and a brother in law who never returned from the battlefield makes one more aware of the cost of freedom. It's very touching to have parades and observances, and very important to be reminded of the sacrifice and efforts some have put forth for the rest of us.
Very well written, Beaver! Hats off to you, as well as a salute to you!
I just finished that whopper of a Bulletin, wow, what a doosey!
It was nice to hear from Kathleen and Carol, always good to hear what's going on with the western cousins. Santiago and Markie certainly are enterprising young men, I hope they clean up at the lawn mowing game! Wow, I didn't know Beaver was published! I enjoyed his Memorial Day piece. Donna's submission was very moving, as well.
I hope Miss Kitty has recovered from her close encounter of the moose kind, I bet a moose does look like a monster to a little kitty. So where was that recipe when I was doing The Family Cookbook, Wyatt? Gunning for my job? Just kidding!
Elaine's column is always entertaining, I enjoyed the Burma Shave poetry very much. It was very nice to see such an outpouring of response to our new piece. I hope there is as much enthusiasm for the chapters to follow. Thanks again for an entertaining and informative read!
Dorothy, the last two Bulletins were loaded with great stories and pictures. All the contributors are becoming more familiar to me. I especially liked the photo of the kids watching the branding. It's so Texas.
With all this nasty weather, and much to my dog's chagrin, I've been able to complete the illustration for Chapter two. I hope you like it.
OK... where's Doug's story? I have to say I was a little disappointed to discover that it wasn't in The Bulletin this week. And I waited patiently for a whole week.
Photo Editor's comment: Here it is, Marlene, right under the Travelogue section. Enjoy! Doug's Danger Ranger stories are planned to be a bi-weekly feature ... and even so, that's a pretty rigorous production schedule for Doug & Brianna. You can't rush quality when writing a book!
I made Wyatt and Jolene's recipe from the last Bulletin today and it was delicious. It reminded me of a banana split. Maybe we'll try it as dessert, with a drizzle of chocolate and a sprinkling of nuts and whipped cream and a cherry.
Editors comment: Isn't it great! Your idea sounds tempting.
I am not sure if you remember me or not; I am Jessy, Chris Chap's girlfriend. I wanted to ask you if you could subscribe me to The Bulletin so I could catch up on all of the news. My e-mail address is email@example.com and if you could do this I would be very appreciative.
Editor's comment: Yes, I do remember you. You were here among the throng who greeted our arrival last winter -- come and see us again, soon! Your copy is on the way!
A man and his wife were having an argument about who should brew the coffee each morning.
The wife said, "You should do it, because you get up first, and then we don't have to wait as long to get our coffee."
The husband said, "You are in charge of cooking around here and you should do it, because that is your job, and I can just wait for my coffee."
Wife replies, "No, you should do it, and besides, it is in the Bible that the man should do the coffee."
Husband replies, "I can't believe that, show me."
So she fetched the Bible, and opened the New Testament and showed him at the top of several pages, that it indeed says ..."HEBREWS"
Editor's comment: Sounds great -- however, I maintain the right to brew my own coffee. (Don is pretty undependable.) :-)
Click here to find out Who's Who in The Bulletin 1
Who's New In Who's Who?
Kellie Thayer* and her sons Michael (Yale student), Bryan and Jason (my piano students for several years) -- she treated me like Mom and we consider them family.
Jessy Wolff (Chris Chap's girlfriend).
To search a name in Who's Who: 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. I know it does in mine.) 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.
QUOTATION FOR THE DAY: My father once told me that there were two kinds of people: those who do the work and those who take the credit. He told me to try to be in the first group; there was much less competition there. --Indira Gandhi
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.