The Bulletin
Sunday, November 21, 2004
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Updates -

Dwight & Janie harvest pumpkins
Dwight & Janie Anderson harvest pumpkins, melons & tomatoes

A Bounty of Thanks

With food at our table and
Friends at our door,
We know we have much
To be Thankful for.

Wishing you all every reason to give thanks today and always.

Dwight and Janie Anderson
Dwight, ND

UPDATE -- Home Improvement
by Brianna Anderson-Jordet
St. Cloud, MN

I'm taking a few minutes from work to touch base with you. Doug and I are currently living in the basement. He's actually made it cozy enough to tolerate for a few days. I took a few days from my paying job to work on finishing our wood floors and now that I'm back to work it feels like a vacation. I would say we're half way there.

My mother mentioned that she received The Bulletin, but there were no pictures attached. She said it was just text. hmmm. I can't imagine why. (Editor's Note: Did this happen to any of the rest of you out there?)

So, next week is Ben and Heather's wedding! That's coming up fast. I think Doug and I decided to make the drive instead of finding a room.

By the way, I don't think I had time to tell you before starting the floors, but I thought The Bulletin looked really good this week! I was most impressed with Jerrianne's link below the scrapbook to get an enlarged view. Bravo to you both!

UPDATE -- Trip to North Dakota
by Ardis (Sigman) Quick
Roseville, MN.

We have put a few miles on the car lately. In early October we drove to Dickinson, North Dakota. We had planned on visiting my Grandma (Julia) Sigman in Minot on the way out, but on calling her before we left, we found out they would be at Mandan convention, Wednesday to Sunday.

We were driving right through Mandan on the way out, so we stopped and visited with her and her two sisters, Ester and Ann. They hadn't seen Charlie for a number of years, so it was special for each of them. Here is a picture of the three of us.

Grandma Julia and her sister Ester live together. Their other sister's name is Mary and she lives in Washburn, about an hour south of Minot. All are in pretty good health considering they are 81-92 years old.

I also attached a little story I wrote on the road. (Scroll down the page to read the story.)

The Quicks with Grandma Sigman
Charlie & Ardis (Sigman) Quick with Grandma Julia Sigman

UPDATE -- Recovery
by Tom Mellon
Balboa Island, CA

Editor's Note:
Tom Mellon's brother Dan had sent me a note that Tom had been unfortunate in health issues and suffered a mild stroke... I let Tom know we were in there pulling for a full recovery. This is his answer.

Thank you for the kind note. Your memory is correct. I did move. I live on an island in the harbor of Newport Beach; this is the third time I've lived there in the last 25 years and I like it very much.

The stroke I had was very minor; I'm already back to work. There is no paralysis; I have a little difficulty speaking ... so I have to talk a little slower and I tire faster, but I'm able to walk around the island (two miles) every morning before going to work. The prognosis is good. The information I received in the hospital says I may expect the most significant signs of recovery in the first 30 days, so I look forward to being more or less normal by Christmas.

UPDATE -- Knee Surgery
by Lori Chap
Maple Grove, MN

My ACL surgery on November 2nd went very well. I checked in at 7:30 a.m. with surgery scheduled for 8:30 a.m. After checking in, I was led back to a "prep" room where my vitals were taken, documented and I was given a run-down about the surgery. I then had to decide on the type of anesthesia, general or spinal, that I'd like to have for the surgery. I chose general after hearing the pros and cons of each.

After all my decision making was done (by the way, I decided on the allograft - cadaver graft) and I was outfitted with an IV and covered with heated blankets, I was wheeled to the operating room. It was almost exactly 8:30 a.m. There I was given the anesthesia immediately -- and that's all I remember until waking up in a post-op room.

I didn't get sick or have tremendous pain that I remember, although I was told later that they'd given me pain meds while I was still under because I was in pain. I must have been making faces or something to tip them off. Here I waited probably 45 minutes to an hour to be transferred to another post-op room where my vitals were again checked and Mom and Becky were able to come visit. I got 7-Up and crackers and was able to put my contact lenses back in. I was kind of out of it, so the nurse went over some post-op info with Mom and Becky while I tuned in and out (mostly out). I figured I was in good hands so didn't feel the need to focus.

I was given a knee "air cast" ice pack with its own refillable cold water cooler. The leg was iced hourly, in that air cast, mostly by Becky but also by Chris and Mom. (This thing has really helped!) I was also given crutches. I was able to get dressed and leave the Park Nicollet Surgery facility at about 1:30 p.m.

I'm in week three of recovery and things are going well. I'm sleeping a little better and am going to physical therapy twice a week. I have to do this for at least 12 weeks. Physical therapy is helping me tremendously and I've been impressed thus far with my doctor and the Park Nicollet facility, including the physical therapy center. I am off crutches, do not have a brace or immobilizer, am hobbling along on my own and am back to work.

Thanks to everyone that responded with advise and information about ACL surgery and thanks for all the well wishes, cards, visits and gifts.

Special Thanks:

-- to Mom for the pre and post-op help, as well as groceries and necessary items!

-- to Becky for staying with me and helping me through the first couple "rough" weeks.

-- to Marlene for hauling me to my first post-op doctor's appt. and first two PT appointments.

-- to Chris and Weston for helping around the house.

Cute Pictures of Jayce
by Kim Johnson
Long Lake, MN

A while back, I took some pictures of Jayce while he was over at our place. I thought they were so cute ... and I've wanted to put them in The Bulletin since.

Jayce was visiting us one afternoon and he decided that he wanted to roam around a little bit. He was checking out the upstairs, and he found some sun glasses. He was oh, so cute, and I had to get a picture of him.

Then he heard about Mark's lawn mower and decided he'd better take a look at that, too. So ... we headed to the back yard. He got on, pretended to be driving and I asked if I could take another picture of him. When I showed him what it looked like on the LCD screen afterwards, he kinda cringed and walked away.

I guess he didn't like it; I sure did, though!!!

Jayce on tractor mower Jayce, shades
Jayce on Mark's tractor lawn mower & Jayce in sunglasses.

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

Starting with Bulletin 124, I plan to run biographical sketches of the members of our staff. When that has been done, I want to run sketches and pictures of each of the readers and subscribers who have not already done introductions. Please tell us about yourself. What is your work and what else do you do with your time? How are you related or what friend introduced you into the family? I am hoping that you can share family photos and background sketches. Send all manuscripts and pictures to me at

Introducing The Bulletin's Netherlands Correspondent -- Ary Ommert Jr.

Ary Ommert Jr.
Ary Ommert Jr.
Maassluis, Netherlands

This week it's my turn to tell you more about myself. Well, I'll try to do my best.

My name is Ary Ommert Jr. and I was born on June 21, 1955, in the Town Leiden. My mother's name is Sjaan and my father's name is Anton. My parents don't live anymore; Mother died in February 1990 and Father in May 1999.

From the time I could remember things I know my parents gave my sister and myself a good education. By the way, my sister's name is Hanny and she's 5 years younger.

I grew up on a nursery, lots of greenhouses with fruit and vegetables. Friends from school always like to come to our nursery to play after school. Most of them lived in a normal house and didn't have so much space to play. When I grew older I started to help my dad with the work that had to be done. In this way I could start to save money. The first thing I bought with that money was a moped when I became 16.

Around that age I also learned how to drive a car, but not in a legal way. My dad found an old car and I was allowed to drive on our own land. It took some days to learn how to handle the clutch, etc. but in a week I could drive a car without problems. When I was 18 I had to take lessons for my driver's license but only needed 10 lessons.

After the primary school I went to the Mavo (you call it high school) for 4 years, and after that to the retail school for an education when you want to start your own business. When I finished that school I started to work for a florist in Rozenburg but had to go to school for 1 day a week for my florist certificate. That took 2 more years. You see I have green fingers for many years.

In that florist shop in Rozenburg I got my first license plate from a lady who came from New York and brought her car with her to Holland. Started talking to her that I liked the plate and she said when my car gets Dutch plates you can have one. After a few months I had my first foreign plate.

Next year I went to Tunisia for a holiday and found my second plate there. Now I got enthusiastic and started to write to car dealers and car clubs all over the world. Hundreds of letters from me went over the globe and some of them had a positive result and my collection started to grow. Found the ALPCA club in the USA for collectors and became a member. From that time on my collection grew bigger and from the membership roster I picked out Don Anderson to write my first letter to him to ask if he would like to trade a Dutch plate for a plate from his state: Minnesota. He agreed and the rest of the story is known to many people who read The Bulletin.

Glad that I wrote that letter to Don; otherwise I would never have met Don, Dorothy, their children and other members of the family and friends.

About 2 years ago I sold most of my plates, but I still have The USA, Canada and my Indian tribe collection. Like to update that collection when I can. Also proud of my Indian tribe collection. For a person who doesn't live in the USA it's difficult to find them. On my visits to the USA and the ALPCA meeting I was able to find many tribes.

Well enough about plates. I'm 49 years old; as you know I work in a big garden center in the Netherlands called Intratuin. Enjoy my work very much and like to go on holiday; have been in USA, Canada, Iceland, Greece, Tunisia, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Spain, France, Belgium, Germany, England, Ireland, Denmark, Sri- Lanka and Maldives.

I'm not married, living happily as a single here. Have many friends and family who I like to visit or they come and visit me. Don't like winter. Do like to help other people. Always busy doing things, sometimes too much at the same time and then you feel you are getting older.

Last week I decided to change the color of paint inside my house from green to almost white; now the hall is almost finished but will take a while before all is done.

It's not easy to write about yourself. I still owe you a picture, but my camera is not fixed yet, please forgive me. As soon as I have it back you will get a recent picture from your Netherlands correspondent. For now I added a picture from a mill in my town Maassluis.

Greetings from the Netherlands,

Ary Ommert Jr.

Windmill, Maassluis, Netherlands

LTD Storybrooke

Traveling Saleswoman
by Larry Dake

When I was a kid, we lived three and a half miles west of Lester Prairie, Minnesota, in a big, old, rented farmhouse. It was at the end of a long, narrow driveway. Even with the long driveway, it wasn't unusual for salesmen to drive in and call on us unexpectedly.

And Mom didn't like salesmen! I remember hiding behind the sofa in the living room until they would give up knocking and go away. In the summer, college students would canvas the countryside selling magazine subscriptions. Our driveway would have seemed like a long walk to sell a magazine subscription. But one day a young lady with bobbed black hair was spotted walking up the driveway. As she approached we ran and hid like rabbits in our holes. After she had run out of patience knocking at our door, she left.

We watched from behind the curtains as she walked down the driveway and headed west along the highway. By road, our nearest neighbor to the west was about a mile and a half walk; only a half mile, as the crow flies.

The all clear was sounded, and I went back out to play in the sandbox. I was busy building roads when I looked up -- and to my astonishment! -- the same young lady, with the bobbed black hair, was walking into the yard from behind the barn!

I scrambled out of the sandbox, and ran for the house as fast as my little legs could carry me. "M-OM! M-OM!" Sand scattered all the way to the kitchen sink. "Mom!!! The lady S-E-EN me!!!"

This time we couldn't hide. I peeked out apprehensively from behind mother's skirts as the determined young woman spoke to Mom about the merits of subscribing to a magazine.

I think she even succeeded in making a sale.

Behind the scenes...
The Editor wrote:
Just want to tell you -- I've been there and done that: hiding from sales people! Of course the problem was we didn't want to be impolite and say no... And we really didn't have the money to conveniently say yes -- so we hid!

LTD replied:
I hope you'll include your comment in The Bulletin!!! I hadn't thought of it that way! (Is that what some would call "Minnesota nice"?)

Travelogue t

The Bolivian Beat
By Kjirsten Swenson

Editor's Note: Kjirsten has returned to Bolivia for a second year of independent study in Morochata, prior to enrollment in medical school at Baylor University in Houston, in 2005. She spent several weeks trekking around Bolivia before returning to the hospital in Morochata.

Cholita watering livestock
Cholita with livestock at waterhole, rural Bolivia

Kjirsten Visits Santa Cruz

Erika and I returned to Cochabamba this morning after a great long weekend in Santa Cruz. We arrived Friday evening, met by hot, sticky sweatiness that immediately reminded me of Houston in August. It was late enough that we didn't do anything other than hang out with her relatives and complain about the heat.

Saturday was market day. After exploring downtown for an hour, we visited a market, ate lunch with the relatives, visited another market, and then headed to Expocruz, the huge international fair. In the several hours we were there we didn't see more than half of it. What we saw was impressive, though. Lots of Bolivian and international companies presented their products. I was awed by massive cows. I've seen a lot of cows in my life, but nothing remotely resembling the enormous beasts presented at the fair. That evening we enjoyed a concert by Azul Azul, one of Bolivia's few groups that's had any success outside of the country. It was good.

Sunday we visited a small community less than an hour from Santa Cruz. I appreciated the escape from the big city; Santa Cruz's noise, pollution, and traffic were almost unbearable. There we perused the market and people-watched in the plaza before returning to the city for lunch with the relatives. That evening we visited the river with a cousin and her friends.

After visiting Erika's grandfather's grave, we went to the zoo. There were several spectacular jaguars ... but otherwise it was fairly depressing. The cages were sad and small, and it was hard to appreciate the beautiful trees and flowers, due to lots of ugly trash. Two black bears seemed to be suffering a lot in the humid 95-degree heat.

There was no space available on the flights, so we left on an evening bus for Cochabamba and arrived this morning. Since then I've been doing laundry and getting ready for tomorrow's trip to Morochata.

Thanks for posting the photos! Karina is delighted. I'll let you know when you can delete them.

I was shocked to hear of Sarah Baseman's death. I didn't know her well because her field is about as far away from Cochabamba as possible and I haven't made it that far yet, but I very much enjoyed her the couple of times she visited here. She seemed about 15 years younger than she was and was such a very friendly, positive person. It was clear to me that she was very dedicated to the work and the Bolivians in Riberalta, for whom she had so much hope.

Happy 49th birthday, Dad! Nearly half a century, true?! I'll be in Morochata and therefore won't call, but shall think of you on the big day. :) I should be back in Cochabamba as soon as the fiesta is over, probably around October 12.

Until then,


Sheep & lamb Fleeing llamas
Sheep with lamb, left; fleeing llamas near road, right.

More of Kjirsten's trekking photos may be seen in her Webshots Bolivia Trekking album here:

Beaver, Donna, Weston and Lori visited Washington, D.C., in September and have provided a series of interesting reports. Here is another...

The Holocaust Museum
By David S. (Beaver) Johnson
Ashby, MN

In the entire state of Minnesota, there are about five million people. Most estimates of the number of people who died in the Holocaust are in the range from five to six million. To me, it was just a textbook number, incomprehensible, a terrible number to be sure, but having little real meaning to one who has always lived in a free and tolerant society.

Our recent visit to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum gave me a very different perspective, so overwhelming that now, more than two months later, it is still hard to put it into words. I am only now beginning to examine the awful kaleidoscope of emotion evoked by the displays there. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. Seeing the artifacts and film clips from the Holocaust is worth a thousand times what any words could convey.

Each person entering the Holocaust Museum is given an "Identification Card" which tells the story of a real person who was persecuted during the Holocaust. This is the first step from six million faceless names to learning of individuals, their lives, their suffering -- and often, of their deaths -- at the hands of the Nazis. My ID card was for Marcu Butnari, born May 12, 1886, in Husi, Romania.

Marcu was born to Jewish parents in Moldavia. He followed in his father’s footsteps by going into the winemaking business. He was arrested in 1941 by Romanian fascists, who accused him of being a communist because he was Jewish. While he was held hostage, his vineyards and home were confiscated. He was liberated by the Soviet army in August 1944, and continued to live in Romania after the war.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the Holocaust Museum was the dead silence. People were not talking, not even whispering. It is as if every visitor turns inward, seeing, processing information, and not even making eye contact with anyone.

A three-story high "Tower of Faces" is filled with approximately 1,000 reproductions of pre-war photographs of people from the Jewish community of the Lithuanian town of Eisiskes. A catwalk near the mural on each level allows close viewing of the photographs. The photographs show people doing everyday things -- riding a horse, posing for their picture, smiling.

In September 1941, those depicted in the exhibit, along with 2,000-2,500 Jews from neighboring towns, were forced into three buildings in Eisiskes. After two days without food and water, they were killed, in mass shootings, with only 29 escaping the slaughter.

There are many film clips of Hitler haranguing crowds with his terrible message. Watching him work a crowd into a frenzy, I could feel the short hairs on the back of my neck rising. How could a corporal in the army, even in the power vacuum that existed at the time in Germany, rise to control most of Europe?

Many groups other than Jews were persecuted. People of mixed race, gypsies, political prisoners, and many more were persecuted and massacred. Resisters and even whole villages were massacred in captured areas.

Displays and graphic film clips, some placed to be visible only to adults, show the slaughter of men, women, and children, some of whom had been forced to dig their own graves. Many were made slaves, doing forced labor with little food until they were too weak to work, and then killed. The Nazis' intent was to form a master race by wiping out everyone who was not a part of the "master race."

Photos and artifacts show how Jews and others considered undesirable by the Nazis were subjected to horrible, painful medical experiments. Even small children were subjected to these tortures, many dying as a result of the experiments.

There are photos and displays showing the dehumanizing treatment suffered by prisoners -- clothing taken away, hair cut off, fillings removed from teeth after death.

A rail car of the type used to transport people to concentration camps is positioned so that one can walk through it. Twenty people would crowd the small car. Routinely, one hundred people were crowded into each rail car, often for days at a time.

There are displays of combs, brushes, eyeglasses, and other possessions taken from prisoners before they were put to death. Shoes cover one large room in the museum, several layers deep, all taken from prisoners as they were herded to the gas chambers. Seared into my mind forever are the tiny shoes scattered among the others, shoes that could only have fit a small child.

It is obvious from looking at the displays and reading the stories of the lives of the prisoners, that most of the Jews were common people, many of them poor, not the greedy, rich class of people portrayed by the Nazis.

There is a section devoted to the stories of courageous resisters who helped Jews, often at the cost of their own lives.

Near the end of the tour is Daniel's Story, a children's section, where there are no graphic displays. I remember walking through this section, but I believe my mind had become too numb to assimilate much of it, while D and Lori remember it in detail. This display commemorates the approximately one and a half million innocent children who were murdered in the Holocaust. The narration is in the voice of a young child.

The first displays are of Daniel’s room, in an obviously affluent household. The normal sounds of a happy household can be heard in the background. Then Daniel tells of the coming of the Nazis, and the ever-tightening restrictions on everyday life. The sounds change to boots stomping, windows breaking, and screams. All through the display, Daniel tells of his bewilderment when trying to understand why all of this is happening. The Nazis confiscate the family's property, and send the family to a faraway ghetto.

Then Daniel tells of a long ride in a cattle car to a concentration camp, his separation from his mother and sister, who he later learns have been murdered by the Nazis. He is given a number to replace his name, and forced to perform slave labor until he and his father are liberated at the end of the war. Lori commented that she felt very cold after walking through this exhibit. I am not sure if it is the exhibit alone that chills one, or whether the temperature actually drops as one proceeds through the exhibit.

After leaving the museum, I was struck by the suffering that could have been prevented if other countries, including the U.S., had intervened earlier. My feeling was that we should use our power and wealth to intervene wherever genocide is happening. After more thought, I realized that we can’t be everywhere, and rushing in might even worsen some situations.

This is written with some sense of futility, knowing that I am only putting down more words, which are inadequate to convey the feeling evoked by the Holocaust Museum. Reading about it and seeing it are so very different! The combination of film clips, photos, and artifacts displayed in the Holocaust Museum brought me closer to feeling what it would be like to be one of the victims. It is certainly a terrible feeling, but worth experiencing, if only to understand how fortunate we are to live in a free and democratic country.

v Working @

This series on driving a truck in The Netherlands begins in Bulletin 125.
My "Workaday" Part 2
Story & Photos by Frans de Been
Oosterhout, The Netherlands

After I have an order to get a container I have different places where I must leave my empty container. I can unload several types of containers like a 20 feet, a 40 feet, a 9.6 feet high -- an open one, a flat or a reefer -- a lot of different kinds of containers.

Here is a flat with a "screw propeller of 15.500 kilos" going to Singapore.

After we have gotten rid of an empty container we go to the Europoort port.

On the way we pass two tunnels before we get there.

Also we pass a lot of chemical plants, oil refineries from several oil companies: Q8, Gulf, [Royal Dutch] Shell. Oh, yes, and a lot of tanks for ? -- but look for yourself how big they are! Then we come to the area where they unload coal and iron ore. Enormously big boats are moored here!
To be continued.

Sugar Beets
By Ardis Quick
Roseville, MN

Charlie and I made a trip to Dickinson, North Dakota, the first weekend of October. We went by way of Ada, so to get to Dickinson we did a little side step around Fargo-Moorhead on a few rural side streets. We saw numerous large trucks hauling large clumps of mud, dirt and rock out of the fields. Charlie had to enlighten me with the fact that these "clumps of mud" were actually sugar beets being harvested.

As we traveled by acres and acres of fields, Farmer Quick took the opportunity to teach me about sugar beets. I learned about rotational crops, why process plants make contracts with farmers on the number of acres of beets they will purchase, cash crops and how the sugar is produced.

He also pointed out a drop location where the trucks were unloading their haul that they had just picked up, not thirty minutes earlier. As soon as they were unloaded, they were off for more. The emphasis was on getting the beets out of the field; they would be loaded again at a later date for hauling to the processing plant.

As we came up to our turn, Charlie stopped the car and retrieved a "clump of mud" from the middle of the road. My very own sugar beet! To my surprise, it was white, not red as I had expected. (Duh! How often do you see red sugar?)

My prize was as large as a cantaloupe. Using a knife, I cut off a piece. It smelled just like a beet; the texture and grain were the same, but it was actually quite sweet. I tenderly wrapped my treasure in napkins until we returned home and I could process my own sugar.

Two days later, we were home. I scoured the Internet for information on sugar beets. Now I was ready to process my precious treasure. After cleaning and peeling my beet, I sliced it into thin slices and placed it in a kettle with enough water to cover. I proceeded to boil the precious sugar from the beet slices, carefully adding water and breaking apart the slices to extract as much sugar from the beet as possible.

After several hours, I poured the light brown liquid off into a smaller sauce pan and continued to boil the syrup. Some time later, I added a little sugar to the mixture to assist in starting the crystallizing part of the process, just as they do at the beet plant.

Three and a half hours after I started, all my hard work was complete. The results -- a pot of mashed up white beet slices, a saucer of light brown liquid and a house that smelled like cooked beets!

America's Second Harvest
The Nation's Food Bank Network

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, our thoughts turn to those less fortunate than we. America's Second Harvest, The Nation's Food Bank Network, is a good source for getting informed on the hunger problem in the United States. "The fact is that hunger in America does not look like the images we have seen of famines in developing nations. In this country, hunger is often hidden..."

Here are facts and figures that will give you a general picture of the problem, more detailed data about how hunger affects certain populations and regions, as well as a closer look at the government programs that form the nation's "food safety net." Most important, you'll find information on how you can help both locally and nationally, if you are so inclined.

Additionally, The Hunger Site ( supports the food collection effort. Click on the link provided to "feed the hungry with the value of 1.1 cups of staple food." These staples are provided by the sponsors of the site. There is no obligation other than to thank these sponsors; in fact, they urge you to click every day and spread the word about their hunger relief efforts!

Memory Lane

A Memory of Great Grandpa, A.S. Mellon
by Tom Mellon

I enjoy your newsletter even though there are so many folks I've had no relationship with. I have a memory with my great grandfather maybe you can use:

I believe, looking back, that Grandpa wanted to interest me in politics and public service, as he was. (Neither his son nor grandson had gone that way.) Whenever my family visited him in Minneapolis, he would not only allow me, but encourage me, to sit and go through his big Roll-Top desk.

Once when I was 11 or 12 (1957 or 1958) and sitting at his desk, I discovered a greeting card; it was a deep blue color with an official seal on the outside. I opened it and inside it read: Happy Birthday Alonzo, and was signed Dwight D. Eisenhower. I ran and showed it to him and asked, "Is this from the President?"

He took it from me and glanced at it casually, then tossed it on an end table and said, "Oh that, it's nothing." I've always regretted I didn't have the foresight to ask, "If it's nothing, may I have it?"

I have a story about my great grandmother also, but I better get back to work; I'll send it another time.

Editor's Note: You are a good story teller -- I can hardly wait! I know Grandma was a neat lady and I have taken as my own her statement on a good meal: "I always eat my dessert first ... so I'm not too full to enjoy it!"

This and That
by Elaine Wold
Wahpeton, ND

A Thanksgiving Thought for Everyone
Today, upon a bus, I saw a lovely maid with golden hair;
I envied her--she seemed so gay, and I wished I were so fair;
When suddenly she rose to leave, hobbled down the aisle;
She had one foot and wore a crutch, but as she passed, I smiled.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I have two feet -- the world is mine!

And as I walked on down the street, my package in my arm,
I stopped to buy some sweets, the lad who sold them had such charm,
I talked to him -- he said to me, "You're really very kind"....
"It's nice to talk with folks like you, You see," he said, "I'm blind."
Oh, God forgive me when I whine;
I have two eyes -- the world is mine!

Then walking down the street I saw a child with eyes of blue,
He stood and watched the others play, he knew not what to do.
I stopped a moment, saying, "Why don't you join the others, dear?"
He looked ahead without a word, and then I knew he could not hear.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I have two ears -- the world is mine!

With feet to take me where I go
With eyes to see the sunset's glow,
With ears to hear what I should know,
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I'm blessed indeed -- the world is mine!

Reprinted from The Bulletin #72, November 19, 2003

Thanksgiving Gobble Turkeys
(for the kiddies!)

1/4 cup margarine
4 cup mini-marshmallows
6 cup Rice Krispies
chocolate frosting.
candy corn.
Oreo cookies.

Melt margarine. Add marshmallows and stir to melt. Add cereal. Cool 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, twist Oreos apart. Butter hands. Make 1-1/2 inch balls from the cereal mixture.

Frost empty Oreo halves. Press 3 candy corns in the shape of a fan. Add a little frosting and stick a cereal ball in the center of the cookie half with the candy corn.

Frost the rest of the cookie halves and put on the bottoms of the cereal balls. (One half of the Oreo forms the base of the turkey and the other is the back of a turkey, and the cereal ball IS the turkey.)

Now put a dab of frosting on a candy corn and stick it on the ball of cereal to make the turkey's head.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!


Celebrations & Observances
From the Files of
Hetty Hooper

This Week:

November 25---Thanksgiving Day
A Wedding

November 26---Heather Overby & Ben Henderson Nuptials

Best Wishes!

This Week's Birthdays (& Next Week's, too):
(The Bulletin will not be published Thanksgiving week.)

November 26---DeLoris Anderson
November 30---Aaron Stahlecker

Happy Birthday!

More November Birthdays:
November 2---Gert (Dake) Pettit
November 2---Brianna Susan Lehtola (3 years old)
November 7---Tom Mellon
November 10---Argyle Anderson
November 11---Allison Aydelotte (7 years old)
November 12---Patty (Anderson) Henderson

November 17---Zach Myron
November 17---Mark Johnson (12 years old)
November 19---Tyler Swenson

November Anniversaries:
November 16---Argyle and Kathlyn (Johnson) Anderson (41 years)
November 26---Ben Henderson and Heather Overby (next year!)

More November Holidays & Observances
November 11---Veterans Day
(Remembrance Day in Canada)

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


We love to get your Bulletin and it keeps us informed how you and Don are doing. It's introduced us to a lot of your family, too. Glad you send it to us.

Bill & Donna Vaughan
Springfield, MO

Editor's comment: Bill helped me learn how to use my computer more effectively, by showing me many things it could do. He and his wife, Donna, were very dear friends of ours in Springfield. I have been sending them a trial issue. We can now enter them as subscribers. DMA

We will be visiting my dad's for Thanksgiving. I hope to get a picture of the entire family plus one of the four of us. I'll give you a bio then.

Love what you're doing with the news letter.

Ardis (Sigman) Quick
Roseville, MN

Sent to The Bulletin by Larry Dake, and printed here with LeRoy Dake's permission:

The poem in last week's This and That, about buying fabric during World War II days, reminded me of something Dad (LeRoy Dake) wrote to the quilters in our family. They had been discussing, on our group e-mail, buying fabric by the yard at specialty quilting shops.

Dad related to them about his own fabric buying experience. He wrote, "I didn't buy fabric by the yard. I bought it by the ton! Yes, that is true! I bought it in hundred pound lots!"

"Sometimes the clerk helping had to sort or move a lot of hundred pound lots to dig out what I thought would look good on mother or the kids. I was known to be a bit particular as to what my family wore. It couldn't be just any old feed sack -- it had to be just right!"

"And there had to be enough of the same print to make a garment. It also had to be the same chicken feed, so the chickens wouldn't molt and quit laying eggs!"

Quote from LeRoy Dake
Blaine, MN


Jerrianne's friend Earl says as he gets older he spends more and more time contemplating the hereafter. "I go into another room for something," he says, "and then I have to stop and think: I know I came in here for something ... but what am I here after?"

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QUOTATION FOR THE DAY: The most important thing in any relationship is not what you get but what you give. --Eleanor Roosevelt (1884-1962), U.S. First Lady and humanitarian

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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