An Ancestral Farm

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Busch farm summer 1907. From right: Rosa and Lucina, Wilhelm, and Ferd Busch, Lena Berning and Frank Busch.  Wilhelm and Frank would be visiting from Hazel Green Township, Grant County, Wisconsin. Lena was likely living in LaMoure Co at the time, possibly at Edgeley.  Photo 11082-00425 ND Historical Society.

Busch farm Summer 1907 looking southwest from north end of Section 13. From left: Wilhelm, Ferd and Frank Busch.  At left, a half mile to the south, is the Busch farmstead, showing house and outbuildings.  Photo 11082-00427 ND Historical Society

This is a family page.  Pictured above would be my mother’s parents, her grandfather, and an aunt and uncle.  The pictures were taken in the summer of 1907 (see NOTE at end of this post).  Ferd and Rosa had been in LaMoure County ND, Henrietta Township, for two years, having moved west from Hazel Green Township, Grant Co, Wisconsin, near Dubuque IA.  They were the first of their two families, Busch and Berning to migrate from the home ground.  It had to be an adventurous time, in all the ways that word can be used.

Recently I sent around to family a number of files including historical information about the family.  They are presented here, for posterity, accessible as long as this blog has an existence.

The entire collection, including almost 1000 photographs, are in collection 11082 at the North Dakota Historical Society in Bismarck ND.

The summary history of the family (all multi-page pdf’s):

Family timeline, etc:Busch-Berning Family compiled Nov. 13, 2018

Impressions of the family on various topics:  Busch-Bern by DB001 and Busch-Bern (2) by DB002

Maps from Germany to North Dakota: Busch-Bern Maps by DB003

Busch photo index at ND Historical Society as of Nov. 2018: Busch photo NDHS Oct 7, 2018 Rev

POSTNOTE Dec. 2:  Found were some additional memories about the farm recorded by Vincent and Art Busch, Dick Bernard and Ron Pinkney in late 1999 early 2000.  (The second attachment is only a single page, completing Ron Pinkneys.) Busch Farm Memories001 and Busch Farm Memories (2)002  Memories as recorded by family were transcribed exactly as given.

The first pages of Busch Farm Memories are Vincents recollections of farming with horses.  Some years ago, Vince’s counsin, Melvin Berning, wrote a very interesting commentary on plowing with horses.  Here.

The Busch farm folks perhaps about 1912 outside the farm house. Note Grandpa Busch (center) holding  his fiddle – note his left hand.  Rosa is behind him.  Photo 11082-00052 ND Historical Society

With some of the Busch horses. Photo 11082-00135 of the ND Historical Society.  Among those pictured are Edithe, Florence, Vincent, Art and possibly Rosa, and maybe George.  Not dated, but dog Skippy points to later 1930s early 1940s.  Skippy liked to be in photographs!  Probably south end of the barn.

Vince and Edithe Busch Oct. 25, 2013.  Edithe was in the memory care unit at St. Rose Nursing Home, and Vincent would be taking a room in the same unit the following month.  They were down the hall from each other.

NOTE: The photos which lead this post were found at the Busch farm and quite likely were taken by a professional photographer.  Every picture has its own story.  These may have more than most, though unstated.

New residents in ND in early 1907 were Wilhelm’s daughter Christina, and Rosa’s brother August Berning who had married in Nov. 1906 and moved to Berlin in early 1907.  Sometime in 1907 they had a son, Irwin, who died at 6 months. No birth or death date is known.  By the time of the photo they were probably living less than a mile from Busch’s.  Irwin may have recently been born, possibly occasioning a visit by his grandfather Wilhelm to both rural families.

While North Dakota was in boom times in 1907, conditions were not the best.  In 1993, Anita Cranfield, Bernings 12th child, born 1925, recalled: “I believe Irene, Lillian and Cecilia [the 2nd, 3rd and 4th children] were actually born at the Busch farm in Wisconsin…I would guess that losing their first child Irwin made my parents very wary of having the children so far from doctors.  Turned out right because when Rose was born Dad delivered her and then the doctor got there.” (Pioneers p. 174, in the collection of ND Historical Society)

It is very unlikely that Grandma Busch came from Wisconsin on this trip.  Someone needed to be back at the farm; and she had her own health problems, possibly asthma, the same kind of ailment which ultimately caused her daughter, Christina, to die at 64 in 1950.

It is easy to romanticize the rural life of pioneers.  It could be and often was a very harsh and unforgiving life.  There are many stories.

Aging Infrastructure

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Bernard family, at the then brand new freeway-side Buffalo, Jamestown ND, 1960. Richard (Dick) is not in this photo, at college down the road. Dad, Henry Bernard, probably took the photo.

Tuesday, Dec. 4, in the morning I have a date for an upgrade of my internal systems: replacement of aortic heart valve and, it was determined in a recent pre-op test, two sections of artery.  The hospital, Fairview Southdale, helpfully provides an overview of post-surgery life for me, for anyone interested.

Given a hoped for good outcome, you can ask me in awhile how it really was….  In the meantime, this is a time of reflection for me.  This is not a routine matter.  Of course, I have no idea about the outcome.  The season of Advent begins on Sunday, Dec. 2.  It is a good time to practice the skills of peace, justice and the broadest definition of neighborliness.

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Uncle Vincent had this same procedure a dozen years ago, and I was his driver and attendant at the time.  I know, now, how he experienced the preliminaries to open heart surgery, up close and personal.  He lived nine years afterwards, dying at 90.

He was 81 when he had the procedure.  I’m 78.

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For some reason I find myself thinking back to 1958 when I was 18 years old, heading off to college at Valley City ND.  That happened to be the very year when the first 12 mile section of ND Interstate 94 was basically complete between Jamestown and Valley City; part of the last 38 or so miles of my route from Sykeston.  I remember two things, vividly: 1) they said the road cost “a million dollars a mile”; and certain parts of that first dozen miles – namely the shoulders – had not yet been completed.  You needed to keep your eyes on the road.  But that first stretch was a very big deal, brand fresh and new.

1958 was 60 years ago, and virtually all of the interstate system is now 50 years or older, and showing its signs of age.  Every summer some new stretch is closed for a dozen or so miles to be redone.

I guess that is what facing me in this aging body.  I feel good – walk my two miles most every day, and more in between.  I will probably do so again today, depending on fresh snow, here.

The heart diagnosis came as a surprise.  Had there not been my annual physical back on May 25 – the same afternoon grandson Bennie and his Dad had their accident – I could have gone along unawares for some while yet, but inevitably there would have been a surprise.

So, off I go for repair.

Repairing the Infrastructure:

No one guarantees any certain outcome in a surgery.  Of  course, life offers no guarantees either.  Something can happen, any time, any where.  Any one of us can make a list – probably a long one – of the times something happened that could have ended our own life journey, but didn’t.

We’re fortunate to live in a time when much can be done, medically; I’m fortunate to have excellent support in all ways.

Anyone with an interest can google what is now my topic and come up with endless information.  On the spectrum, I gather I’m relatively low risk, which does not mean no risk.  I hope for good news long term.  We’ll see.

With extensive experience, the medical community has doubtless learned a great deal over time.  All patients are beneficiaries.

Still, my body, like anyone’s, feels the effect of age in differing ways.

On my life “menu”, apparently the heart was the weaker link.

It is my good fortune that there have been immense advances in successfully dealing with such ailments.  Of course, there are no guarantees.  They’ll do their best….

The Pace of Progress: 

Sunday afternoon I had an unusual opportunity to observe progress through an old movie: “Jurassic Park”.  Our 89 year old friend, Don, a Jurassic Park fan, and I, watched the movie with the full live Minnesota Orchestra playing the “soundtrack” in front of the screen.  It was a phenomenal afternoon.

On the way out I asked another attendee, “when was this film made?”  She said “1993”.  That’s 25 years ago.

Back then I saw the then-just released film at Mall of America, with a young guest from Germany, who I was taking to his host family.  I thought I was giving him a real treat.  He told me later the film was so frightening that he couldn’t watch it.

Looking at the same film 25 years later, I was most struck by how technology has changed since 1993.  DNA made an appearance in the film; a computer system supervised by a nerd was a near disaster, cloning.  There were many other “that was then, this is now” moments in this old sci-fi fantasy – a reminder about how far we’ve come; still a reminder that even the best has its downside.

Don noted the number of folks at Orchestra Hall whose iPhones were on before and during intermission inside the hall.  He’s never had a computer.  25 years ago, we’d not have seen such….

What will everything look like 25 years from now?  Even under the most optimistic scenario, I won’t be around 25 years from now.  Hopefully, progress will not go retro in the coming 25 years.  There is a danger that we could actually regress, in uncomfortable and perhaps even tragic ways.

Enough for now.

Back in 2006, I drove Uncle Vince and Aunt Edithe to Fargo as he took his trip into the unknown of open heart surgery.  We stayed overnight in the motel next door.  His brother, Art, and wife Dee, were there too.

He was to report for surgery very early the next morning.  I brought him to the hospital.

This was his first time for such a confrontation.  For 81 years he’d lived on the home farm in rural Berlin ND.  He knew the procedure had to be done, but he’d much rather have been back home.

I watched him walk, resolutely, in to the prep area; later the same day saw him right after surgery; sometime later ushered him into the rest of his long life back in LaMoure ND.

Next Tuesday I report, at 5 a.m., as Vincent did a dozen years ago.

He and his sister, Edithe, are on my mind as these days continue.  They made it to 90 and 93 respectively.

We’ll see.

Have a great December, Holiday season and New Year in 2019.

Thanks, Giving

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November 25 is the 6-month anniversary of the automobile accident that led to a close brush with death for then-12 year old Bennie, and the ensuing months of care for him at Children’s and Gillette hospitals.

Nov. 11 we went over to see Bennie and family at home here in Woodbury.  He walked up the stairs, and down, unaided!  This first had occurred only recently.

I’ll let Caring Bridge take it from there, Mom Robin’s post, including video, went on-line this morning, Nov. 20, 2018.

There’s lots of road yet to travel for Ben and family, but what huge progress has been made.

Certainly, a time of Thanksgiving.

When the chips were down these last months, lots of circles went into action for Bennie and family.  This is what I am thankful for this year: not only for those circles, like Children’s and Gillettes, but every other individual and group that arrives unbidden on the scene when encouragement and help is needed.  “Families” like the Ronald McDonald House and its volunteer support come immediately to mind; CaringBridge, on, and on, and on, and on.  We are all vaguely aware of these angels of all sorts.  When the chips are down….

We are not alone, even when we think we are.

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Give yourself a treat sometime this week: free preview of the 60-minute version of the film The World Is My Country, access here.  Even those of you who have seen this film before, check this out.  This preview is of the shortened, one-hour version.  The film is about ready for full public release.  Yes, they’ll ask for a voluntary donation.  Contribute!

I went to “a place called home” concert on Sunday afternoon.  It was absolutely marvelous.  Here are a few pages of the program, beginning with the musical numbers, most of which can doubtless be accessed at YouTube: A Place Called Home001

Street Song MN (in blue) and Chorus Polaris (in black) Sun. Nov. 18, 2018 at Gethsemane Lutheran Church in Hopkins MN

After the performance, I wrote my cousin, Mary, one of Chorus Polaris, and Teri, Director of Street Song, that I had more than passing familiarity with personally getting too close to homeless myself.  The details are not relevant, though it goes back to well over 30 years ago when I was, paradoxically, on the corporate board of a major charity whose mission was and is to the homeless, among others.  During that time I heard a brief and very powerful talk by Mgsr Jerome Boxleitner, then head of Catholic Charities, on the topic here addressed.  His words speak powerfully.  You can read them here: Mgsr Boxleitner May 1982001.  I don’t take for granted the feelings of homeless people….

 

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Personally, sometime within the near future I’ll have a new experience: replacement of an aging aortic valve.  No date has been set, but probably within the month.  My life is normal: the usual two mile walk this morning, etc.  Thanks to the annual physicals I learned of this problem early – this is something I’d rather not be surprised by!

All best wishes to everyone.

 

Giving Thanks

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This evening and tomorrow: Concert: A Place Called Home flyer v1

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Thursday we attended the Minnesota Orchestra, and on the program was a piece by Shostakovich, Concerto No. 2 for Cello and Orchestra, performed by the Orchestra’s Cello Principal, Anthony Ross.

Anthony and the Minnesota Orchestra exemplify “excellence”, and so it was Thursday.  He and colleague cellists offered an encore entitled “Song of the Birds“, memorably performed by Pablo Casals.  Here is the piece performed by Casals himself years ago.

Tony dedicated the encore to refugees, and to social justice.  Simply, let the piece, and Pablo Casals, speak for themselves.  Thank you, Tony Ross.

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Life is full of surprises, if one is open to them.

Saturday evening we attended the annual dinner of the Islamic Resource Group in the Twin Cities.

Keynote speaker Todd Green of Luther College spoke on “Assuming the Best of Our Muslim Neighbors“.

Among his remarks he articulated three rules of engagement by theologian Krister Stendahl (more detail at end of this post):

  1.  When trying to understand another religion, you should ask the adherents of that religion and not its enemies;
  2. Don’t copare your best to their worst;
  3. Leave room for “holy envy”.

I was in that room Saturday night because of memorable hospitality by a Moslem family when I was in 8th grade, 65 years ago.  More here.

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Sunday, I was at the 100th anniversary commemoration of the end of WWI at the Landmark Center in St. Paul, sponsored by Veterans for Peace. The very fine gathering ended with the song made famous by John Denver: Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream.  People were invited to dance.  (if you click on the above link, it will redirect you to YouTube, and the song.)

Armistice Day, St. Paul MN, Nov. 11, 2018. Landmark Center.

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Then, Thursday came an e-mail from nephew Sean in Houston TX.   He’d been part of a “sleepout” for Covenant House.  $651,802 was contributed; Sean brought in $14,200 through his own efforts.  Included in his e-mail were these comments:

“Starfish story: You may not make a difference to ALL – but you can make ALL the difference to one.

“I stayed up late because I wanted to see everyone sleeping out, I started to cry because you were all doing it for me” (Young woman at Covenant House)

“No one knows I am here, please no photos” (Young man going into the army from Covenant House)

“As I laid my sleeping bag on the ground I thought about bugs and rodents. I did not worry about being robbed or raped.” (Sleeper talking about the experience)

“50% or more say they have been “trafficked””. (Talking about those who come to Covenant House)

“They come from all over – we have even seen parents abandon their kids by dropping them on the corner and speeding away”

Thank you for helping me make a difference – most importantly to all those at Covenant House and whom they service – but also most profoundly in my awareness and appreciation and the push outside the comfort zone. There are great people out there – they just need us to see them as people – not homeless…This last thought struck true as I walked into a Starbucks, disheveled, sleeping bag, back pack, and to various stares and eyes as I went to use the bathroom – on my way back to my office…no one knew what we have all done last night – no one needs to know – except the woman who got the pair of socks – that was what mattered.”

(NOTE: earlier in Sean’s note: “1 woman whose face lit up and said “God bless you” for a pair of socks”.)

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Then came cousin Mary Kay’s notice about tonights concert (lead in this blog) which, I gather includes homeless persons as singers.  Quite certainly we’ll be there.

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The bad news?  Of course, it’s out there.

But let’s look at the positive for a few days, anyway.  Have a great weekend, week, and Thanksgiving.

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Krister Stendahl: Prof. Green’s remarks merited and received a well-deserved standing ovation from the audience in the filled ballroom at the hotel.  I had never heard of these rules, nor of Prof. Stendahl before Saturday.  Google his name; an excellent articulation of the rules is found here.  The rules are clear, brief and easy to understand.

Todd Green Nov. 10, 2018

Comment from Doreen, read in Mary McGlone’s column in the Nov. 18, 2018 National Catholic Reporter:

“In 1912, as political events were churning toward World War I, the French poet Charles Péguy wrote a book-length poem about God and hope, “The Portal of the Mystery of Hope.”

In part, it read:  The [virtue] I love best, says God, is hope. Faith doesn’t surprise me … [creation is so resplendent] … Charity … doesn’t surprise me … these poor creatures … unless they had a heart of stone, how could they not have love? … But hope, says God, that is something that surprises me….”

from Dick: This reminds me of a painting of a flag given to friends of Harold Stassen on his 90th birthday in 1997.  Stassen was one of the signers of the UN Charter in 1945.  The painting by Robert Mulder. loaned to me by a friend who had inherited it.

And in 1939, Christina Berning, a ND farm wife and relative I barely knew, sat down and wrote this poem (page 60 of “Pioneers”, a family history I put together in 2005.)  Christina died in 1950 RIP.

Hope

Strong winds are fiercely blowing / Winter days are cold and drear / Tis nice to sit by fireside glowing / And feel that spring soon will be here.

Cheer up, cheer up, my dear friend / And prepare ye for the spring / Winter so cold, soon will end / And the birds again will sweetly sing.

We will all hope and pray / for surely then we shall see / The dawning of a new day / and nineteen thirtynine’s prosperity

Then if we work, with might and main, / And carefully put our seed in / God will give us plenty of rain / To fill up our old grain bin.

Armistice Day

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PRENOTE: Anyone interested in my comments about Election 2018, written before votes were counted Nov. 6, here is my post.

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Armistice Day, Nov. 11, is Sunday this year, and all are invited to a special event at the Landmark Center in St. Paul from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.  Details can be viewed  and a flyer downloaded (A Day of Peace. scroll down, at left),

The program is a jointly sponsored presentation of Veterans for Peace and the Landmark Center.

This is the 100th anniversary of the end of WWI, famously, the 11th month, 11th day, when at the 11th hour the Armistice was made official.  (In the United States, in the 1950s, the day was renamed Veterans Day, but that’s another story for another time.)

All wars are insane, “necessary” or not.  WWI was one of the worst.  For those with an interest, Vet for Peace Mary McN sent along this item from the New Yorker.

Washington DC November 2018 by John ‘Bernard

There are the stories.  Here are a couple:

The World War I Flu was a deadly disease which quite likely had its ground zero in Kansas but was variously attributed to Spain, Asia or other places, and took a horrendous toll in its short deadly run in 1918.

My Aunt Mary, who turned five in 1918, wrote her memories in the 1990s, including this (p. 138 of Pioneers): “the First World War was fought.  The thing that I remember about the war was the Asian Flu.  Everyone in the neighborhood [rural North Dakota] had it.  They were either really sick, or just had a slight case.  Dad had it, but was able to do the chores, get groceries, etc.  He even helped a few neighbors.”

Her memories are set in their little farm house, two rooms down, two up, a place we grandkids got to know well years later.

[Mary’s older sister and my mother] “Esther and Ma were really sick.  They had high fevers, stomach-aches, vomited, and had nose bleeds.  Mrs Freese came and helped.  After she helped [her sister and my Aunt] Lucina, [age 11], make something to eat for all of us, she would sit in the bedroom with Ma and Esther.  Both were ‘out of their heads’ didn’t know what they were doing, so had to be kept in bed and kept warm.

One night the dog started to howl right by the bedroom window.  I was scared and ran and stood by Mrs. Freese.  She was crying, so I cried also.  She took me on her lap and told me, “When a dog howls like that, someone is going to die.”  We said some prayers and she put me back in bed.  The next morning everyone was still alive, the fever broke and the danger of death from Flu was over in our house.  That was scary.

The fun part of the Flu was that Dad brought down all of the mattresses from the two beds upstairs and made beds for us on the dining room floor.  Boy did Lucina, Esther, Florence, and Verena, George and I have fun jumping, tumbling and turning somersaults on them.  Lucina was under the table and held her hands out to protect the table legs from getting scuffed.  That exercise must have helped us get over the flue with no aftereffects.  A number of people died in the community  All of my family survived, even if it did take Ma and Esther awhile to complete recover.”

Elsewhere in the memories of the family, it is reported that a hired man was killed in the war; that those of German ancestry (including my grandparents and many others in the community) were suspect because of their ancestry – many spoke German as first language at home.

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I include the WWII statue of Iwo Jima (above) for a reason related to World War I.

Recently my brother John and I were at the Marine Core training facility in San Diego, where we and other family members attended the graduation of my grandson, Spencer, from boot camp.

We were walking to the car, and came across Haiti Avenue, which reminded me of the U.S. occupation of Haiti, 1915-34.  This is a little known fact, but one worth bring to the surface on this day.

Probably the most well known writing about the U.S. involvement in this war was written by Marine General Smedley Butler, whose duty included the occupation of Haiti.  I will let him tell his own opinion, here.

At MCRD, San Diego, Oct 12, 2018

Whatever your choice, Sunday, Armistice Day or Veterans Day, keep in mind that war is a very bad option.  I hope my grandson never has to use military skills, anywhere, any time.

COMMENTS:

from Jeff: We are attending the opera “Silent Night” at the Ordway on Sunday, the 100th Anniversary of the Armistice.

Marines: congrats on the graduation of Spencer,  I know that is an
accomplishment.

Marines: From the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli, we defend our countries honor……

Thanks for reminding me as the famous words of the Marine anthem do, the military used to aggrandize and in Tripoli to protect American commerce.   The Halls of Montezuma refers to the completely
Imperialist Mexican War… the fulfillment of Manifest Destiny.   White
Protestant America destined to expand and conquer the Catholics and heathen native americans.   Said expansion particularly to expand slavery.  It was another spark to ignite the Civil War.    Also look into the desertion and insubordination of several Irish brigades in the Army.  This helped set off the anti Catholic and “Know Nothing” movement in the 1840’s and 1850’s.   The Irish at that time , arriving in droves from the Potato Famine , were the first major immigration wave which also was not Protestant.

Election Day

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I’ll click “send” on this post at 7 p.m. CST – the time polls begin to close on the east coast.  Of course, this stops predictions of who’s leading, winning, etc.

In the morning we citizens will be stuck with whoever it is we elected.  In my lifetime, there has never been such a stark contrast as this year….

Whoever “wins”, we still all lose if the prevailing tradition continues, especially if we collectively decide that there is a “winning” and a “losing” side.

Halloween 2018

In the first sentence of my Oct 30 post,  I used the phrase “fork in the road” about tonights election results.

I’ve been thinking about that choice of words.

We run political campaigns and manipulate attitudes as if we were in some kind of Super Bowl, where one side wins, and the other loses.  We forget that we are all in the same country, part of the same world.

For some years, I’ve felt as though I’m on the losing side.  But what if my side wins tonight, small or large, state or national?

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Last week a long-time casual friend and his wife were in a single car accident on a country highway in Wisconsin.  There was no fork in that road, but for some as yet unclear reason their car veered off the road at apparently high speed, went in the ditch, hit a driveway approach, went airborne, hitting trees which stopped it cold.  Both were dead at the scene.  Something awful had happened….  Their funeral was a few days ago.

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Taking my “fork in the road” analogy and applying it to the accident, here is another scenario:  one “side” will be defined as “winning” tonight – whatever the race, wherever it occurs.

Instead of everybody taking that “winning fork”, our entire nation now tends to careen forward, running into woods, in effect killing ourselves in the process.

I think the analogy can move beyond our nation’s border, to the greater world of which we are apart.  We are not a single dominant car on the highway of humanity.  The car in the accident was a 2017 Jaguar.  It didn’t save the couple who were killed.

So, consider the U.S. the Jaguar (at least in our minds) and around us are all variations of vehicles from carts pulled by animals, to junkers, to new cars of all sorts.  Any one of these vehicles has the capacity to assist us a little, or do us in, in all sorts of different ways.

We cannot drive down the highway accounting only for ourselves, pretending the present is the future.

We’re best off to consider the consequences of a “win-lose” approach to an immensely complex country and world.

Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up to who won and who lost.  What greets me tomorrow will be motivating me as to future course of action.

POSTNOTE:  So, why the Pumpkins from Halloween as this posts illustration?   A friend and his family do up Halloween in a pretty big way, and last week we went over to admire the work – and it is a lot of work,  and it is admirable.  They are (I think) “conservative”; we are “liberal”.  They don’t do the community event to earn praise; we didn’t visit to win any favor from them.  It was a pleasant trip.

You’ll note that about half the pumpkins in the photo are on the left, the other half on the right.  Which is left, and which is right?  It depends from what direction you’re viewing them….

Does the side with the five pumpkins win?  Or was there a reason why the other side had the four, and if the four were removed because they were losers, would that interfere with the symmetry of the display?

Foolish questions?  Or is there something worth talking about?

I always think of that Eagle that represents our country: how well would it fly if it only had one functional wing?  What if the head had only one wing to command?  My friend, Mary Lou Nelson, who presented it to the MN Landscape Arboretum ten years ago, named it the Messenger of Peace, rather than calling it the hunter – what the sculptor had named it – or the dominator, or some other such reference to being in charge.  Her renaming was on purpose.

Cannot we all work together?  It seems so obvious.

Take some time tonight, or later, to look into the civility project of the University of Arizona.  My legislator, who retires this year, had this as her passion as a legislator.  I gathered there wasn’t much interest…you know, winners, losers….

“Messenger of Peace” – Eagle at MN Landscape Arboretum, Chanhassen MN Oct 2008.