Laurie Dix Kari
Director of Family Promise
homeless shelter
in Wasilla, Alaska
serves coffee at 7:25
Ruth Kari
Mud wrestler
Colony High School Soph.
Wasilla, Alaska
Very good girl; cleans up nicely;
(Laurie and Phil's daughter)
Ruth Elies (Dix, etc.)
1931 Sun Prairie WI High School Sr.
Organized a dance band at age 13, & many etcs.
(Mud wrestler's great-grandmother and namesake;
Laurie's grandmother)
......
Another photo of a dog team in the Iditarod long-distance mushing race of 2012.
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A real find made by Dee when cleaning out her Sunday School office at the 1st Congregational UCC here in Waukesha.
A gathering of church history booklets collected by former SS head, Ina Guthrie, was discovered during an office cleaning.. Among these mimeo printings was a 54 page resume of Alfred E. Gregory DD's 25 years of ministry at the 'Congo', written by the good doctor himself.
Here is just the first page:
Confirmed by this gentle and erudite Englishman at the Congregational Church
in Waukesha, I nevertheless went on to lead a picaresque life with few of his strictures and dictates followed.
It is never too late, until it is.......
......
From today's WRITERS ALMANAC:
March
A bear under the snow
Turns over to yawn.
It's been a long, hard rest.
Once, as she lay asleep, her cubs fell
Out of her hair,
And she did not know them.
It's hard to breathe
In a tight grave:
So she roars,
And the roof breaks.
Dark rivers and leaves
Pour down.
When the wind opens its doors
In its own good time,
The cubs follow that relaxed and beautiful woman
Outside to the unfamiliar cities
Of moss.
Rev. Tom Bentz vows to write a poem a day for Lent, and so far he is making it.
Turns over to yawn.
It's been a long, hard rest.
Once, as she lay asleep, her cubs fell
Out of her hair,
And she did not know them.
It's hard to breathe
In a tight grave:
So she roars,
And the roof breaks.
Dark rivers and leaves
Pour down.
When the wind opens its doors
In its own good time,
The cubs follow that relaxed and beautiful woman
Outside to the unfamiliar cities
Of moss.
That’s a Moray (March 18)
Some days I may hook a lyric like the moon on a
string;
Most days I must look for it to hit me like mud in the
eye:
I dip inside and find the well dry,
Slip outside and find the moon winking.
The moray for today
May say that thoughts stray,
Words are out to play:
We cannot capture what we feel;
Rapture is as slippery as an eel.
