THE CHANGING OF THE FLOWERS

In the spring

We wait for the tulips

Followed by lilacs

Then iris

Peonies

Showy Lady Slippers

Fields of daisies

And gladiola

Grandma Mae had a garden of glads. We were not allowed in that garden lest we should break this beautiful flowers stalks. She planted the bulbs in rows as if they were carrots. I always wanted to bunch them together to make a bouquet. I wonder how many of those bulbs were several years old. How many years can they bloom, do you know?

That only happened when she picked a variety of colors and brought them into the house. She painstakingly removed the stems as the blossoms withered. She was careful to select them from different rows to make the garden still look plentiful. She did not plant according to color.

Grandma Ranum, one the other hand, grew Hollyhocks. She allowed the picking of the blossoms; one full bloom for the body, and one bud for the head to make a doll. The two pieces were held together with a half a tooth pick.

Do you remember flowers in your grand mother's garden? Did you have a favorite?

e

GO BLONDE???

I am not giggling because I am a wrinkled person, I am giggling because it is said that if you have blonde hair to frame your face, wrinkles aren't as noticable.

Try telling yourself when you are looking in an 8x magnified mirror. Try telling yourself when you are looking for new glasses in said mirror and one looks at the wrinkles instead of the glass frames.

Now, I have a great friend in Michigan, who, indeed, goes blonde at 72+ because her hair dresser told her that it softened the wrinkles. She has been softening so long, she doesn't know what her natural color is.

I am wondering how long it will be before I am the silver haired bass fisher person. At that time, is it sensible to go blonde? Will I have more fun?

Wondering as the bottles of color dance on the shelf in stores.

e

RUN RACHEL, RUN

Dixie was a nervous sort. The doctor asked her if she walked much. She said she did. She walked to the Kwik Shoppe every day and bought a candy bar and ate it on the way home. She couldn't understand why she was gaining weight, after all, she was walking. Doctor told her to walk to Clinton Lake and back each day, a round trip of about eight miles. She actually found more comfort in walking than she did in the candy bar. She used her mental energy for walking instead of worrying. Way to go!

When visiting D&L, there was always a walk to the main road involved. If not, then, at least to the bridge.

Daddy walked two miles to school each day. At one time, as an elementary school student, we lived more than a mile from school. It was walked in nearly all weather conditions. When it was really cold, Mr. Wilson would take us in his old truck.

Although walking is now popular, running is even more so. Me? No, I ran after Bud for 11 days when he was four and learning how to ride a bike. I could run faster than all the scouts in the troop I was honored to lead. I ran from one base to another in softball and I ran after ponies when they got out of the fence.

I have recently connected with a relative on Mother's side. She is a runner. She now does a 12 minute mile. My own daughter has started run training. She is doing a 17 minute mile. There was to be a rush somewhere here and beating one's own time seems like the prize. Never the less, in front of God and everyone, I do wish to congratulate her on her latest fitness addition.

Such fun it was in the spring and fall when the boys from high school would run past our house as part of conditioning. We may or may not have been doing them a favor by setting the sprinkler on the side walk but we were certain we where.

Hats off to Rachel!
Run Rachel, Run!

e

ANOTHER 50TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

It doesn't seem possible that 1960 was 50 years ago. Does it? Hey, we were all young, beautiful, and abounded with energy!

Yet, Karen and Rollie were! She was a June bride, I would love to see pictures!

They have been celebrating with their families for the last couple of weeks. Her daughter made/brought the cake from Illinois to Wisconsin. The celebrated at church.

When I think about 50th anniversaries, I think about my grand parents and what they had with each other. I wish that for Karen and Rollie, too!

e

THE YEAR WAS 1911

This is a special memory day for me, not that I was around 99 years ago when my grand parents were married but because they married one of their children married and I was born!

I like to think they were a happy couple. Times were tough, I know that, after all their parents were all immigrants from Norway, living not 100 miles apart but no roads, mountains in the way, and who had a bright red convertible to go courting even if..............

Grandpa was most likely doing carpentry in 1911, we know from the 1910 census that Grandma was a domestic in Thief River Falls, MN although they most likely knew each other from Strip, later called Rosewood as both their parents had land in the area of New Solum. It would not surprise me at all the all the Opseth's and the Ranum's were together at times, whether it be social or spiritual functions. The guys may have played ball together or worked together for that matter.

What we generally learn about these pioneers is simple, the the need to help each other far out weighs the church you belonged to. It is called survival.

Benhard and Julia lived in Rosewood until about 1947 when they moved to Thief River Falls. They would build a series of several hours over the years and, as Grandpa said, "Build up the bank account, don't want to die in the poor house". A term, at the time, I thought was a joke, but for those of you who have read any history of your family, you know the poor house and the fear of living there is very real, just as real as the fear of being buried in the pauper's field.

It is hard to know just when Grandma worked at NuWay Cafe, I do know she was very restless and needed something to do. She cooked, baked, and of course, like anyone in the restaurant business, washed dishes.

My grandparents lived with us one month short of two years. They were, for all practical applications, my parents, my mentors. It wasn't until I was reunited with Tom did I feel as safe as I did sitting in my grandmother's lap as she rocked and hummed, and crochet. I was truly amazed when I realized I wasn't going there in my mind for peace and security. I adored her and all she stood for. There were no conditions. None.

And then, there was grandpa with his teasing personality and his huge belly laugh. To mimic him would mean deep breaths from the toes and throwing ones head back to let out the music of the laugh. He was already my age when their service on Oakland Park Road began. Yet, he helped me catch a chipmunk in the garage for me to sell.

As they moved around town in new houses, they met new people. They were the kind of people the neighborhood enjoyed. The had an open door policy for the children and the cookie jar was always full.

For sport, they played cards with old friends, the women against the men. Grandpa said he would teach me to play but I could not look in the discard pile, I had to remember what was tossed. An early lesson applied to other things as well.

They would celebrate their 50th anniversary with a party on the lawn at their house on Arnold Avenue. When someone asked Benhard what he was going to do next he stated he was going to get himself a spring chicken. Grandmother announced he would be dead in a week if he did. She did not state if she would do him in or the chick would.

Grandma died in the fall of 1966. Grandpa had cataract surgery. He still played cards. He still whistled a no tune, and he still drummed on the table. He wrote his bike around town but missed his wife more than I will ever know.

Sweet memories linger.

e

HUMAN FIRE PLUGS

It was bad enough with the diaper detail a couple of weeks ago but then, because I am that way, I over drank. Over drank to the point I might have put out a fire. And my sweet Thomas says, "Hold it." Well, my holder doesn't always hold. Besides, it didn't work for Uncle Bennie after prostate surgery when his brother told him to "Hold it, it will make your bladder bigger."

I mixed up my fluids and take at least 25% in the food. Of course if you have a nice cold slice of watermelon~~let's move on.

Let's get to the top. There was an old riddle when I was a kid. Cruel as it may sound, it was tricks to walk up to some poor soul and say, "You must have seven holes in your head".

Let me tell you, it has been a seven holes in my head sort of week. I am not willing to state I have allergies to something out there in Fargo land, yet my nose itches and runs. It is okay, we have 200 boxes of tissues. Well, almost.

Then, I have this itchy, wet ear thing. I cut my finger nails off because I was digging in them and making it worse. That is two fold, I had my pointers sharpened to fit and of course I was introducing junk into my out ear. Last night, sometime well after I was asleep, I woke up digging. I knew where the drops where and pattered down stairs, put drops in, stuffed them with cotton and went back to sleep. This morning, Tom was asking me if he should start my coffee, finally he touched me. I said, "WHAT?" I saw his mouth moving. I must have shouted because he had that look on his face. I said, "I can't hear you, I have cotton in my ears".

I read somewhere recently that if you swish hydrogen peroxide around in your mouth for ten minutes, (like when you take a shower), it will whiten your teeth. That lasted about 10 seconds.

Which brings me to eyes. Those of you who know me well, know that I have cataracts on both eyes, which do not disturb my vision and cupping which leads to glaucoma. But we aren't at the drop stage yet and when we get there, I will have long, lovely eye lashes.

I went back to the eye guy yesterday for a recheck. Yep, the cupping is still there but hasn't changed and the pressures are lower than last time, (must be all the cooked veggies which are easier to digest than meat and raw foods).

So the pre-exam, you know, the one where someone comes in and asks you if you have had any surgeries or changes in medication since your last visit, which was six weeks ago. Then she asks if I am using hot compresses on my eyes twice a day. Well, folks, that means WATER!!! They had not told me to use compresses, I told her. She said, "It is in the notes". Shut up!

So then the doctor comes in and does the same thing and he sees I have a sty starting so he says, get this: "Use hot compresses four times a day and put this on your eye lid after each time". Okay, I am alright with that. I can do that. I trust this man.

Before I left, they did a field of vision test where you sit with your head against a bar and press a button when you see light. Before the in-the-notes-person was starting, she figured the machine didn't work because she could see my eye. Well, dah, I had my eyes closed.

Now the topic of conversation at the table last night was eyes. Tom knew every term and why. I told him about the compresses and the drops. He said that worked but better yet would be to use very warm water while showering and wash my lids with shampoo and a massaging like motion. I am looking at him like for real? Now, the problem is, I trust Tom with my life, just as I trusted my grandmother. So I told him I would try it although we did not have any Johnson's Baby Shampoo because these Johnson's don't have a baby, we don't even have a dog! He said the shampoo we had for silver hair doesn't burn and assured me he does it every shower.

Before I went to bed, I hot packed and wiggled my toes because it was really hot and I put the drops in. When I got up to fix my ears, my eyes were NOT stuck shut.

But when I woke up this morning, they were. Oh this was fun. So I ambulated to the bathroom by feel. By this time, I had the cotton out of my ears. I heard Tom say that I was trying to go into the north bedroom. I wondered why the door to the bathroom was shut and the knob was on the wrong side.

I hot packed the tossed yet another wash cloth over the side of the tub. I put in the drops and finally made it to the computer and got coffee.

And that is the whole story and all of it is true. And what did I learn? This is, beyond having seven fire plugs in my head? That the lube that washes one's eye can thicken up and that plugs up the tear ducts.

Getting old is not for sissies

FIRE HYDRANTS

Sometimes it is hard to believe that fire departments have only been established for 100 years in a city the size of Lawrence, Kansas. Old Trunks wonders what was available before the hydrants, as we know them. Certainly some form of fire prevention was used.

My grand parents called them fire plugs. My question for you today is, why did they call them that? Have you heard the term?

Well, it seems that still existing in Europe, is an under ground water system where there are holes cut in red wood and marked on a map. This redwood covers are removed, the hose goes into the water, and fire fighting begins. After the fire, the hole is plugged up. Fire plugs.

The first above ground units were made of wood, later they would be cast iron as we know of them today. Ours is right across the street, it is red and has a post with a sign high above it. Why? Because in the winter, the hydrant is covered with snow. A few times a year, someone comes with a wrench opens it up and I suppose checks the pressure. We like to think they do it on hot days and it cools the street but that is a fantasy. :)

We had a fire hydrant close to our house in Lawrence. The summer of 1976 the city father's suggested they be painted like 1776 people. The only thing you may not do is color the top, ours was green. They even furnished the paint. The agreement was the painted plug would remain decorated until it was in need of painting then the city would cover the design.

We painted ours like Snoopy the summer of 1976, in the fall of 1983, with touch ups every spring, Snoopy, as you can see by the photo was still after the Red Baron. This is Ryen and Snoopy.

e

SUMMER 2010 DAY ONE

That is, according to the calendar.........

When does summer start for you? When you were a kid, wasn't it when the final bell rang and freedom abounded for three months?

Was it when the life guard was at the river so you could swim?

Was it when you ran behind the jeep while it fogged for mosquitoes?

Was in when you went to camp?

Was it when the first chigger buried in your skin and made you itch until your mother painted it with clear finger nail polish?

Was it when the private pool you belonged to opened?

When it first hit 80 degrees?

Or, did you look at the calendar and say, "Summer"?

Summer. Is that when you wear short pants and cover up with a blanket in North Dakota or is that when you wear a down coat to fish?

Ah, summer. Play if you may.

e

RUTHIE

Although Old Trunks may know more Ruth's than I will mention today, the name is always friendship. The problem is, as I think about it, all the Ruthie's I know have been friendly.

Today I want to focus on three of them; all of them worked in a kitchen whether it be in the school system or at the nursing home.

The first one worked in a second story kitchen of an old junior high school in Lawrence. She couldn't hardly move because of her bad legs, yet she was a take-you-under-her-wing sort of person. Her energy level was low but she did her job as the baker with great flair. She liked bread that was light crusted and next to Edna, her cinnamon rolls were heaven.

The second one worked at Schwegler Elementary School, also in Lawrence. She liked her bread crusted and if any one pulled it out before it was dark enough, she tsk, tsk, tsk. She was a gentle soul, who commanded her own gallery and seemed to have a sense of what everyone was doing, right down to the last bean to be sorted when making chili from scratch. No one was unsupervised at evening events. The children who helped in the kitchen will remember her as a good employer with attention to detail.

Alas, I have just heard about the third cook named Ruthie. She had this shuffle sort of side by side walk when I knew her and always a smile on her face. She was helpful to anyone who pounded on the back door needing yet another cup of thick coffee or pieces of hot toast. Ruth is is making funeral arrangements for herself; she has three weeks to live.

Salute Ruthie's you have in your life. Savor their friendship or is that kinship?

e

ADMIRE IT YOURSELF

My sweet Thomas is after me about copy righting pictures. He says that if you get on some list, you will be paid for them when they are published; claiming there is a list out there. Copyright or not, once on the Internet, unless you write copyright across the picture so pirating makes it impossible to say it is your work, it is out there and people are going to use it if they want. Besides, I know I took it.

Yet, there are hundreds of web sites with photos to purchase. One can order just the photo or one can have it mounted. On Facebook, where one can publish photographs, some folks write their name on them. I am smiling because it is in the corner and can easily be cropped out.

I am sitting amidst a group of 8 x 10 photographs I have just printed. Since Tom bought the optical business as a hobby, we have been bringing in items that have human appeal. It this stark time of dispensaries, he is finding people like the idea of 'stuff'. To me, it is an ideal way to pass along an idea that others may have considered. Men like the antique decoys; women like the silk flowers that look so real.

We are at the point of pictures. The idea is to change with the seasons. For summer, we have selected daisies, a Showy Lady Slipper, and some sort of weed with a bee on it. It is yet another thing for them to look at and remember when they saw it. Hand and hand goes the idea that Tom knows every thing in the decorating scheme as well as the flowers.

The picture book of the loons I did for him last year was a hit. This year we have started a new book, this one with other birds, like eagles and swans.

The point I am trying to make here is simple. I admire my own work. I see the beauty of the shot as well as how excited I was to capture what I saw. Now, because of Sinkler Optical and the Internet, others admire.

Isn't that enough?

Or am I small minded.

e

WHERE IS THE HELMET?

Old trunks some times wonders if friends are more important than anything. Ever notice how, even if you don't agree, they seem to pull you out of a hole, even if it isn't for more than a bit?

Let's talk about Paul. Now, I have known this man for 13 summers. He is stoic and no matter how much charm I think I have, he is the hardest person to get past cool.

After the great fall from the deck, he told Tom he was going to find me a helmet to wear so I didn't get hurt. I didn't hear the conversation between the two but was a little annoyed because it was like a pat on the head and the fall was no biggie. But then you have to remember I was up side down in pain and in a fix.

Well, we went to the lake last weekend and on top of the golf car was the helmet and a handicap sticker stuck in the window. He put it there after we arrived. Tom helped me out of the truck and inside. He came in and asked if I could come out for a minute. And there it was helmet and handicapped and I laughed so hard that all the woe is me was out the window. It was healing.

Later, we would take a pix of me holding a pike with the helmet on and telling Paul that the pike didn't get me because of his generosity. And that is when I finally got a hug and Mr. Stoic warmed up.

It is win win.

Let's hope you have friends to bring you to laughter.

e

PART TWO AND THREE OF THE INSULT

Now Tom and I don't have much luck, that is why he keeps things serviced and is a sentry for equipment. As I said yesterday, the trolling motor went out and then the GPS, the system which tells us our trails and the depth, went out. He went to town with the units, got the trolling motor working and the guru at the sports store said the GPS was functioning just fine. For a while we thought we were going to have to replace both of them. What shall we sell? :) Then the bilge pump didn't work. Well, that was because when they cleaned the boat, ahem, they forgot to get all the leaves out of it. When we got home, the hot water heater didn't work. Ching, ching.

This next part is a water story too, but it has to do with not drinking enough. I had a bout of diarrhea, (aren't you happy you tuned in for diarrhea), and since we where going to the lake, I wanted to get it stopped. So I took Imodium, four of them in less than six hours, with no water, of course.

Then I got a major belly ache so I tossed down some Nulev for cramps. With no water, of course. Well, then I had this fist full of crap in me that would not move. Someone had cut the fingers out of the only latex glove at the lake so then I took some Miralax. With no water, of course. With all the pushing and rocking I found myself in a fix. The clump was cemented in and I allowed my self to push like a baby was coming creating hemorrhoids.

I already knew I had to lay off the cramp meds. But I didn't think about drinking water. So the Miralax started to work, and my raw skin burned like a sun of a gun.

Now I couldn't sit up because of the fly-in-the-boat and/or because of the clump. That is when stuff started to ooze out. Is this really the way to live?

I slept on towels and folded blankets with a wad of tissue to catch the drips and when the cramps came, I walked to the bathroom on a floor covered with towels.

On Monday, Tom brought home adult diapers. I wasn't making it to the bathroom and horrid thought that may be, diapers seemed more sane than dripping. Besides, it was less painful to lay and poop than sit and try.

And I was drinking lots of water. Tuesday night, although painful, I shot out a few M 16 missiles, the last one expelling with a pop. The war with the clump was over and I had won. And I was drinking water and asking for soup from the Fryin' Pan. This was a good sign!

After all, I could move better and lay down and use the computer. And lots of Vaseline! And lots of wipes! Tom came home each day with something else I may need. Including the ring to sit on. And 7-up, and soup and wipes, and diapers.

I deemed wellness yesterday and wore white clam diggers. And when Tom came home last night and asked how I was, I showed him the seat of my pants were not soiled! And I drank water.

You know, I hate water but in this case, it is my friend AND if I had fallen over board and drank water, I would not have this amazing story to tell.

Is that poop on the phone?

e

THE GREAT FALL

For those of you who practice Christianity, then to you, the greatest of all falls, is from grace. There is a joke about that but it is sinful.

This is the great fall from the boat seat. Before you say "no biggie" think about this. You are at your favorite bass spot at the cat tails and you know the fish lay just inside. You know that as soon as you see a swirl, you better set the hook and start cranking to get them out before they twist themselves around the base and you loose the fish and have to use a sailor word.

I was taught to set the hook hard by my teacher, sweet Thomas. After all, it wasn't like we were going to rip the mouth of a little crappy, we were fishing hard mouthed pike, walleye, and muskies at the time.

As so on this very fine weekend were everything goes wrong under the sun, Tom made his way visually through the swallow water. If you wonder why it is because the trolling motor muddied down and it didn't work. Why did he muddy in? Because there was a loon on the nest surrounded by foam and we wanted to get as close as we felt was comfortable for her for the picture.

When we had the boat built, we added a casting deck in the back. It is about three feet off the floor. Again, because Tom was navigating by sight, he was in front with controls and I was in the back.

The fish were on, six casts, three lost and three boated. Paradise. Could it be better?

Because of body restrictions, I sit to fish and when the swirl came, I dug into the side of the boat and hauled back. That is when the seat snapped loose and sent me flying with the seat under me, a distance of maybe 6-8 feet.

Imagine my horror when I landed between the boat wall and Tom's chair with my legs in the air. I was hollering because I hurt and Tom said, "I wish you wouldn't do that". Of course I wished I wasn't either!

I had landed on my back with my mouth shut, (can you believe that?). I landed so hard that after wiggling my toes, I wondered if I had broken all my front teeth off, which I had not.

Somehow, my head had missed the metal post of the chair. My bingo wing, for those of you who are not old and fluffy, is the upper arm, which is still sore.

Tom moved the captain chair and pulled the snapped one from under me. My legs worked. I had stopped hollering by now. I was breathing fine and seemed to be basically okay. What seemed like moments from the snap to standing really was more than an hour. This is not a time when one says "time flies when you are having fun--nor does one say fly for fun".

Tom packed for home and I lay in the seat with the heater on. I crawled into bed on Sunday and crawled out a couple days later. I am bruised from tailbone to waist, (what waist?) and feel my invalid donut is a necessity.

For the first time in almost 15 years I was not on the computer.

Will it happen again. Oh my, I hope not. Tom replaced the shaft of the chair and the trolling motor is fixed.

This is not fly fishing folks.

Stay away from all great falls, they aren't worth it.

But wait, there is more..................tomorrow

THE COACH GOES PECK, PECK, PECK

The first time I was aware people where using hand held as a calendar was some time ago. I was sitting in on a conference about Mr. M. His son was a good looking guy who didn't sit up in the chair, more like lounged in it with a thing in his hand and pecking away at it with a lead less pencil sort of thing. He said, "Oh, I see" when the nurse would talk to him and peck some more. This was before text messaging. He was taking notes. When he came back in three months, he would refer to the last conference by pecking at the thing in his hand, saying things like, "Is this resolved?"

I bought one of those things Mr. M used, I thought I could make use of it at work. I went back to my spreadsheet work sheet. It was quicker to read and put in yet another paper like book.

It is a long way from a note book or an organizer, isn't it? But so far behind what is now available to us. It is not your grandmother's blackberry(ies)!

My question to you is: Do you have a calendar hanging on the wall? Or do you keep all your data on a phone like unit? I wonder if my phone has a calendar? I wonder where my phone is? Yes, it does have a calendar and you can put in events!!!

But then, I can also put it on a virtual sticky on my computer screen!

e

THE BIRTHDAY CALENDAR

Hanging next to the drafting table in the craft room is one of those $1 calendars, suitable only for mini marks. This is the birthday calendar. This is also the calendar that reminds me of cards to make for special people in my life. BUT WAIT: I have a master list as well. These folks are too special to miss.

ANOTHER calendar we have is at the lake. When we come in from fishing, I write the count down, although I have recorded each outing in a water stained and fish slimed notebook. Tom bought me a fishing watch so I didn't have to ask him what time it was!

Now, I don't know if you save your calendars. Seems like a silly idea, doesn't it? Well, when you fish with someone who remembers every cast, it is a necessity. If he is going to ask me when we were at some remote lake on a day I wasn't in full brain, I need something to signal me when the occasion occurred. TA DAH! Calendar saving.

And so begets yet another fishing calendar. One weekend is marked 52, another 17. There is no weather nor is there medication, simple catch........and released fish.

I see by the birthday calendar Dick is 70 today. Happy birthday, Dick!

e

KEEPING ON TRACK

Having no experience on calendar notes as a child, I had to rely on myself to make a plan.

The first calendar I wrote on wasn't a calendar at all, rather a big piece of tag board with all the summer months on it. It was designed to follow baseball and softball games. It hung on the side of the fridge.

As in all things, when I start out I am over informed. Actually way over informed might be closer to the truth. After I understand the process, I cut back and make symbols and develop my own codes or abbreviate. The best time to catch me is past the over informed stage.

What may have started as 7 PM; Saints verses Tigers at DCFG became Saints-h7. OR Saints-V7. Depending on who was up to bat first. It didn't really matter if I put Tigers, we were the Tigers and we always played at the same field anyway. Besides one can get a lot more information on a calendar that way.

Now just what did that little red dot mean? Why would YOU put a little red dot on the calendar?

Later, I would see my parent's calendar evolve. It would have numbers like 7 1/2, 15, clinic. It all had to do with the medication he was taking. It was written on the calendar where he could see it with morning coffee so he would know how much to take on any given day.

Our calendar at home has HC and Phone. There may be an appointment somewhere. HC stands for hair cut. Instead of saying, "You need a hair cut" one can look and say to themselves, "It has been three weeks, time for a hair cut". People in a professional business need to be tidied up more often.

The phone stands for when to add minutes to the cell phone. I am not much of a phone person anymore. I talked too much for too long. So the plan is a pay as you go. Well, sort of. It is $16.02 a month and if I miss the deadline, I loose my $325 credit. So I have a method, I put it on the calendar.

Do we have other calendars? Yes.

e

GRANNIES CALENDAR

Why couldn't we have a calendar like Grandma Mae? Hers hung above the apartment size gas stove in her kitchen. Every day she would write the temperature and one word to describe the weather.

Attached to the nail was a string, attached to the string there was a pencil. They were always together and one was NOT to move the pencil.

I would have thought, and it may be so, that the other grandmother would have written the date she planted seeds in the garden. Or did people just keep those facts in their heads?

Why would anyone want to keep track of the weather on a calendar, anyway? :)

This is going some where, isn't it?

e

BUSTIN OUT ALL OVER

Dang it! June 1 has come and gone and I wanted to tell the story of the effect of the song, "June is Bustin' Out All Over".

We saw the movie in Minneapolis. It was a musical. It was marvelous and until I was corrected, I was certain it came from the film, "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers". After all they danced and sang and we saw it in a big, (to us) theater. Alas, I am corrected, it really came from "Carosuel", from about the same time.

I was so impressed that I wrote JUNE all over the calendar for the month of June. ALL OVER. I suspect it was where I learned to make a j. Nevertheless, Mother was not happy.

Yet, when it comes to calendars, I really don't remember much of anything being written on it. -- except June.

May it bust out all over for you!

e