Silver Threads  August 1996

Silver Threads (formerly Senior Group Newsletter) is the
bi-monthly publication of an informal group of netizens
interested in how the net serves the three score plus internet
user and vice-versa.

The newsletter is mailed to subscribers via e-mail and posted at

The current issue WWW edition is at http://www.freenet.mb.ca/sthreads

There is no charge. Just contact  editor, Jim Olson, at




   Editorial Bits and Bytes

   Features and Gleanings from the Net  

   Notices and Reviews 
   The Cup of Memory
   Caught in the Web 
           EDITORIAL BITS AND BYTES          

Please note our new web site in the heading. It is developing
into a regular Silver Threads Web page with several new features
thanks to Tom Kyle and the Blue Sky FreeNet in Winnipeg.

Some of our interspersed lighter material in this issue comes
from seniornet member janeyWA@aol.com who with her brother has been
publishing a hobby newsletter, "The Full Moon Gazette," that they
send to a few friends. We were fortunate enough to get several
copies having contributed some verse to one issue.

Our old car Logo has gone the way of progress as we are finding
it increasingly difficult to display ascii art in the many
different fonts  used by the variety of mail programs of our

We have forgone the health tips this issue and substituted a
recipe from Roy and Thelma along with some cures they suggest
for common ailments. This may insure the need for consultation
with Kathrynne Holden, MS, RD" , our
gracious health consultant in our next issue.

I want to thank the many readers who have sent in material for our "Cup of
Memory" series and note that we now have a sizable reserve to fill our
cups for future issues and will be using them as space permits. 


Passing the Torch
Jim Olson 

The Olympic games represent one of the symbolic moments in world
cultural history when the Olympic Torch is passed from one
location on the globe to another and from one generation of
athletes to the next. One of the highlights of the opening
ceremonies was  the images of athletes from the past Olympics
passing the torch to the next generation.

We are constantly doing much of the same thing on a daily basis
when as parents, teachers, siblings, role models of various
kinds, and now as Elders in the global village as we pass the
torch on to new generations; and as some of us have found, are
also enlightened by the glow of new torches lit and displayed for
us as we carry on intergenerational communication.

Some of our readers share their thoughts here on the process:

To set the mood we hear from Maryanne Ward
    who tells of her experience as a
Torch bearer:


The Torch Relay through Tallahassee was yesterday and what an
experience! My strongest impression is of the heat. The temperature
was 99 and with the humidity, the heat index was 110. That didn't stop
7000 people from turning out for the event. All of downtown was
decorated and it felt like something out of "The Music Man." My
wheelchair was fitted with a bracket for the torch and while I was
waiting for the shuttle bus to take me to my leg of the relay, a bunch
of kids stopped by.

"Is that The Torch," asked one.

"That's it," said,"would you like to hold it?"

"Oh yes," he said bigeyed.

They passed it around solemnly. One little boy raised it over his head
and said, "Hooray USA."

They put it back and shook my hand and thanked me. In the meantime,
people would stand next to me and get their picture taken. What a hoot!

When I got delivered to the beginning of my segment, I saw lots of
friends waiting. A man on a motorcycle activated the fuel canister in
the base of the torch and I moved out on the roadway. The runner
approached and gave me the flame and I was off. I had my power chair
wide open and cruised along. People were clapping and cheering. It
seemed to last forever and at the same time, it flashed by in an
instant. Finally I saw the next runner and passed him the flame. The
same man on the motorcycle expelled all the fuel from the torch and
gave it back.  My friends gathered around to hug me and to hold the

Suddenly it was all over. What a high! The flame is headed south and
for a brief time it was in my care thanks to lots of people who gave
me lots of help.
 Mike Moldeven  gives us a more formal approach:
It is customary, in our culture, for a person to document a Last
Will and Testament that leaves behind, after his or her death,
decisions on the distribution of material things.  That's another
matter entirely.

Some years ago I read a book that discussed ethical wills and
included examples that had been written over the centuries by men
and women who wanted to leave a final personal
message to the living from a parent, grandparent  --  someone  --
to survivors who are of the highest significance to the writer.

An "ethical will" is not easy to write  -  nor to read.  The
writer probes and evaluates personal convictions and biases, and
confronts reality rather than perceptions and illusions.  The
process compels self-examination of what had been learned over a
lifetime, facing up to failures as well as successes, and
deciding what really counted in the long run. 

Here is a sample:

I am now well along in years.  It is time, perhaps, for me to
contemplate once again what I've done and left undone as a father
and as a grandfather.  I say 'once again' but this time my
advanced age presses me to record my thoughts for all of you to
read or listen to at a suitable time after I am gone.

I am far more concerned that you hear me on a matter far more
important than mere substance.   As a salaried worker, and later
as a businessman, my outlook on the world was pragmatic and, I
hope, not overly sanctimonious.  I recall being referred to more
than once as a practical guy.  And yet, in these latter years,
I've questioned both my doubts and my certainties with a deeper
awareness than I feel I've had previously; perhaps it's an
expanded intuition and sensitivity that accompanies aging.

I've come to accept that there is purpose to our universe, and
therefore purpose to us who are of its essence.  To me, to be
without purpose is to be without meaning; all of life, all of us,
would be meaningless.  I reject a meaningless life  --  a
meaningless family.  I hope that, in time, each of you will also
accept that our lives have meaning, therefore purpose, and guide
yourselves and your progeny accordingly.

Live together in harmony.  Consider the family when an issue
foments stresses among you.  Help each other in times of need and
turmoil even though you reside at great distances and your
lifestyles and outlooks on life differ greatly.

Honor and care for Mom  --  Grandma.  Make her old age happy
years, as far as it is in your power to do so.  She more than
deserves such consideration from each of you.  You have heard Mom
gently reproach me at times about my not giving enough attention
to my children and grandchildren.  She always wanted more for
each of you.  Be worthy of her devotion.

Carry the family heritage with dignity.  Though you discard
customs and rituals you consider trivial, bear in mind many have
come down the centuries and withstood the tests of time and

Do not mourn me.  I have enjoyed my life.  Move on, using for
good purposes the knowledge and skills you have acquired over the
years.  You will serve your family best by serving humankind.

 Remember me affectionately as your

Dad and Grandpa


Art Rifkin  reflects on his experience as a net
pal to a number of youngsters and his own role as a grandparent; 

In September, 1995, I received a E-mail message from Mike
Dougherty, who broached the idea of being a "pen-pal" to a group
of 4th grade students. Mike is the principal of the Germantown
Hills Elementary School where he and Erin Powers, a teacher who
woul d be contacting me, worked. Erin is the teacher who will be
introducing the children to electronic communications. I told
Mike that I was very interested in the program and
would be glad to contribute.

A few weeks later I received my first message, reproduced here

Hi ArtR
Hi How is the weather in Colorado?  Do you like to write email
with us?  What are your hobbies?  Where are you traveling to?
How many people are in your family? Have you ever skied on the  
Rockey Mountains?

 We live in Germantown Hills.  Our names are James, Michael,
Danielle, and Rachel.  We like basketball, soccor, baseball,
and PE.  Oh! and of course we LOVE SCHOOL!  Write back soon.

Your Friends,
 the gang! :)    

 Have fun on your trip...we will be excited to hear about it!
Keep in touch.   

And many others in the exchange like this excerpt:

"In English we are writing papers.  The one we are doing write now
is on Grandparents and how they are special to us.  Maybe we
will share one of our writings with you if you like. On the
computers we are making stories on a program called Storybook
Weaver.  It is really good.  If you have grandchildren then you
should ge t this for them.  They will love it." 
A number came from from individual students and I discovered  the
distinctive voice of each of the correspondents. I suppose it
should not come as a surprise, but it did, to me. It's something
that gives me great joy.

The children in Germantown Hills are forming and have not yet reached the
hard shell adolescent years. They are fascinated by everything they see
and hear about. Reaching out with email is a brand new experience for
them, and they find it very exciting. Not terribly different from my own

I love to watch them learn and grow. I'm amazed by their
eagerness to learn about everything. I want to help and observe
and I know that I also learn from them.

What do I find compelling about this adventure? Well first of
all, I love kids. My own grandchildren range in age from almost
seventeen to six. All of them except the youngest have outgrown
the age and class of these youngsters in Germantown Hills. Two of
my granddaughters are pre-teens. I enjoy all of them, but as they
mature it becomes a little more difficult to relate. Not
impossible, but just more difficult. Adolescents really launch
themselves into their own lives and have little time, or interest
in those old fogies, their grandparents.

It is really the best time of life in many respects with regard
to enjoying the little ones. We are no longer responsible for
them, for their education, their discipline, their action s in
the world at large. We have only to observe them, talk to them,
teach them and learn from them. Yes, and love them.
 Mildred Bluming  describes how her group passes the torch:

The Andrus Volunteers at USC go into middle and high schools in
Los Angeles and share with the school population what it means to
age. Our purpose is two-fold.  We would like to break the
stereotype of ageism.  We make clear to them that when you've seen
one old person you haven't seen them all.  How you age depends a
great deal on how you take care of yourself while you are young. 
The second thought we would like to transmit is hat you are never
too old to learn.

We ask teachers to have the students write a short essay of how
they will be when they are 65 years of age. This is done before
we come.  Using those essays as a jumping off point for
discussion is a useful tool to get discussions started.  After we
are through with our presentation, we ask the students to write a
few sentences about what they learned from our presentation.

The feedback has been wonderful.  The comment we hear quite often
is that our presentation has relieved them of the fear of
growing old.  That is exactly what our group wanted to achieve. 
It is rewarding for us to mingle with young students and it is
educational for them to meet with a group of healthy seniors,
still vital, still going strong and giving of self to the


Finally Fran Hintze  suggests the internet as
means of passing the Torch back and forth:

The Generation Gap and the internet: The internet provides the
best vehicle for closing the gap. We talk to and write to many
people whose ideas we respect and treasure or  ignore. We do not
know their faces or ages as a general rule. This became most
obvious to me when I enrolled in an internet course at the
virtual university. Here we soon formed working groups  and I am
sure the torch was passed from old to young and young to old.

Fran Hintze Calgary AB

The Great Swami answers his mail:

Q:   Who was the only Kamikaze pilot to survive the war?
Ans: Chicken Terriyaki

Q:   What do you call an Italian suppository?
Ans: An innuendo.

Q:   What has a silver top and is full of beer.
Ans: Grandma

Q:    What does "Posh Mortem: refer to?
Ans:  Death styles of the rich and famous.

Disruptive and Eruptive

Ray Dunbar 

I live in a town called Taupo in the centre of the North Island
of New Zealand, and at the other end of our lake is a group of
three volcanoes. One of these,  Mount Ruapehu,  has been playing
up a bit lately,  It has covered several thousand square
kilometres with volcanic ash, and altered the courses of some of
the local rivers, and worst of all for me, it completely
disrupted the end of the ski season. Here in Taupo the eruptions
hardly effected us at all. The wind blew all the ash away to the
west, over a mainly farming and forested area. We had some very
minor disruptions to air services, and the main road south was
closed a couple of times. We did however some spectacular views
of the eruptions.

My wife and I would go out in the evenings down to the lake to
walk the dogs, and we would watch the eruptions that were
occurring every ten to twenty minuets. During the quiet periods
clouds of sulfuric gas would roll down the sides of the
mountain, and then there would be a great cloud of ash and rock
thrown out of the crater that go thousands of feet up into the

The sunsets were unbelievable, gold and red patterns streaked
right across the evening sky. One evening in particular , there
must have been a jet stream high up, and the patterns were
changing every few seconds, all the colours of the rainbow a bit
like the northern lights. The mountain has quietened down now,
and it is now that the eruptions are starting to effect us. The
farmers are all happy, the light covering of ash that received
apparently contains all the components of fertiliser, potash,
sulphur, and many trace elements that are good for grass growth,
and the grass is growing like never before.

Taupo is a town of about fifteen thousand people, and its
population usually doubles at this time of the year with all the
holiday makers. This year the population must have more than
quadrupled. People are flocking to Mount Ruapehu for a look. The
guided walking tours to the crater are booked out every day. It
usually takes me four or five minutes to drive across town, but
now I can get stuck in a traffic jam for up to twenty minutes. I
have been working through the holiday period, doing maintenance
on some of the local sawmills. A quick trip to town for some
parts has suddenly become a marathon.

Ray D

More Swami:

Q:    What crawls and goes Ding Dong?
Ans:  A wounded Avon Lady.

Q.    What happened to the Japanese ship carrying yoyos that
      was lost in the Sea of Japan?
Ans:  It sank twenty three times.

Q.    What does Rigor Morris mean?
Ans:  The cat is dead.

Notes from an Aging Trekkie

Mel Cooperman MIC35WILD@AOL.COM  East Hills, NY

I have been a Star Trek addict since the first series of the
1960's.  Through the decades.  I have seen the crew of the Good
Ship Enterprise grow old along with me, and, with the exception
of Spock, put on the pounds with the years like ordinary human
beings.  I have followed the "Next Generation" into the
adventures of Deep Space 9 and Voyager and their black and female
skippers.  I identify with Voyager's gourmet chef, Neelix, and
find the prospect of a DS9 policeman (Odo)  who may disguise
himself as a parking meter somewhat intimidating.

The transporter gives me pause, however.  Having landed in Lisbon
with my luggage having gone to Nairobi, the thought of entrusting
my body to the technology of the luggage handling robots at the
new Denver airport is chilling. There is my upper half in London
while my legs are running about the Johannesburg airport! The
tractor beam should have a great appeal for parents and nannies
who take children out to the parks.  Put a tracer chip on the
kid, and no more panics. Use that tractor beam and Zap! Back into
the stroller and on the way home.  Should sell millions of them,
unless the police buy them all up. No more hot pursuits! No more
breathless chases through urban back alleys. Zap! Into the cop
car! Beam into the tank at the station. Neat, effortless and

And speaking of mouth watering, how about that replicator. 


Some signs that you are having a bad day:

Your horn gets stuck on the LA freeway while you are following  a group of Hell's Angels

Your twin forgets your birthday

You go to send the clothes to the cleaner that you wore home from the New Year's Eve party and there aren't any.

You turn on the news and they are showing emergency routes out of the city,


A Recipe for Sussex Pond Pudding.  (19th. cent.)

Roy and Thelma Harden.
Leamington Elders Line,

8oz.  Self-raising flour.   1 level teaspoon baking powder.
4oz.  Suet.   Pinch of Salt.  Demerara sugar, butter (as
      much as you like! ) and 1 whole lemon.

Mix dry ingredients with water to make a pastry, roll out. Line a pudding
basin and leave enough to make a lid. 

 Put a layer of sugar to in the bowl to cover about one
third of the pastry.  Cover this layer with butter cut into
small pieces.  Hold the lemon over the bowl and pierce the
skin with a fork.  Then stand the lemon on its end in the
layer of sugar and butter.  Continue layering the sugar and
butter until the lemon is covered.  Cover the bowl with
baking paper and foil and steam for two hours.   Serve with
real custard or thick cream


Also from Roy and Thelma theses cures for what ails you:

A CHRONIC HEADACHE?  Wear Hemlock Leaves under the feet,
changing them daily.  (!!!)

FEELING FEVERISH?  Wear a dried toad in the armpit and it
will ward off a fever.

A SORE THROAT.  Fasten a rasher of fatty bacon round the

"Dorothy G. Barnhouse" 


I am 63, born in the US, lived many years in (West) Germany, and
have been working in Nicaragua since 1988.

My professional education and experience are equally divided
between music and languages.  Before coming to Nicaragua I taught
voice and languages for singers in San Francisco.

I came to help start an English department at the agricultural
college (scientists obviously needing to be able to read
technical English) and did that for a few years.  On the side I
began singing some songs with a few kids in a neighboring poor
barrio.  More and more kids came, they wanted to learn keyboard,
recorder, songs and dances, neighboring barrios came and wanted
the same for their kids... and in short, due mainly to the demand
of the children, and with modest donations from friends in
Germany and the US, I now manage a program called Musica en los
Barrios which reaches about 200-250 children in 10 barrios. 
Together with a Nicaraguan music teacher, I am training about 20
young people, who had already received some musical training from
a Spanish Dominican priest, to teach recorder and basic music to
smaller children.

Because some of these young Nicaraguans are growing into
leadership roles, I am thinking about when it will be right for
me to leave it in their hands. Probably some time in 1997 I will
leave, though I will still be committed to the project and will
have to continue to raise money for it because our "clients" are
poor children from  poor barrios of a poor country in Latin
America.  Why teach music to kids who lack basic housing,
nutrition, education, health care?  You may well ask. I did too,
but the answer is simply, - because the kids demanded it of me.
They were far more interested in doing music than the students at
the ag. school were in learning English.

When I leave here in 1997, I would like to be able to live in
North Germany, where I have some of my closest friends.  But that
is still up in the air. In any case, Internet does bring us all
closer together doesn't it!


Patricia Westerlake 

A few facts about myself:  Married a farmer in 1948.  Having
never been on a farm, I had to learned fast.  Charlie and I
raised 2 boys,and 2 girls. All have masters in their fields.  I
operated a confinement hog house from '66 to '80, while my
husband, Charlie maintained a beef cow herd and fattened cattle.
Due to health reasons, Charlie retired in '80 and I went back to
college. Rec'd my B.A. in acct'g from Western Il in '83. Became
interested in computers while in school, but didn't get my first
Mac until '88 when I retired from acct'g.  In addition to
computers, my hobbies are woodworking; toys cars, small boxes,
puzzles and some furniture; and stained glass lamps and windows.

Our grade school has an enrollment of about 60.  I work with the
children on a 4 to 1 basis. Older children, grades 5 & 6
are required to spend 10 minutes each session practicing their
typing. Then they may play any of the educational games that I
have loaded on the computers.  Favorites are Amazon Trail,
Oregon Trail, Yukon Trail, Toggle Trouble Math, Under Sea
Reading, Grammar Games, Spelling Blizzard, Odell Down Under, and
many more. Most of the games I purchased thru a teacher discount

I go about 7:30 each day and stay until 11:30 or 12:00.  School
starts at 8:30 when the last bus comes, but the town children are
scheduled at 8:00 so we have enough time for all. The older
children spend 6 weeks in the fall with me in the mornings. Then
they are switched to afternoons where they are monitored by the
Learning Center Teacher. I maintain my status as a volunteer, so
that I can take time off when I want. It has been so long since I
have written anything more than a short letter to the children,


A young theologian named Fiddle
refused to accept his degree.
"It's bad enough being named Fiddle,
Without being Fiddle D.D.


Essay Contest for Homebound

Harvey Lisker 

We teach seniors at Florida International University Elders
Institute how to enrich their lives through the use of computers.
Originally we started using the University system computers but
found it very confusing and got little in the way of instruction
from younger computer (wizards)who knew computers but not how to
teach them to seniors.

To get around the internet more effectively and with pleasure we
have joined through a firm in Miami called ICANECT which is
reportedly community oriented. We like that and wish to support
such groups. Originally,we assisted Dr.
Estelle-Witzling_Moskowitz who is in her 70's and active staff
member of Florida Internation University/Phoenix Elders Institute
and produces the Phoenix/El Fenix for Stay-at-home-Elders.
She,together with FIU and several commercial groups in Florida
have co-sponsored a new contest that is running until September
2,1996 .

We would appreciate any help you can give to publicize the
contest. It is for Florida residents,although future ones may
extend across the country. If you are age 60 or over and have
been confined to home for at least six months due to physical or
psychological limitations,you are invited to enter the contest.
The best entries will be published. First prize=$500.Second
prize=$300. Third prize=$150 and Fourth prize=$50.

To enter the contest simply write an essay of no more than 750
words briefly describing why you are homebound,and explaining in
detail your accomplishments,your amusements,your experiences,as
well as how you've remained in life's mainstream,open to new
ideas,expanding your life despite the constrictions of remaining
at home. Send your entry of no more than 750 words to Florida
International University,Phoenix/Elders Institute, 3000 NE 145
Street,CC 301, North Miami,Fl 33181. For further information
contact Diane Otis at FIU(305)919-5910

We want as many home bound seniors as possible to see and enter
this contest. Thanks for your interest and any and all assistance
you can offer in this matter.

Harvey Lisker Surfside,Fl


Senior Pen Pals list

Roger Craddock rojbc@uk.pi.net  is compiling a list of charter
members for a newsgroup with a proposed title of

Those wish to be on that list are invited to
write Roger Craddock.


Travel Adventure Stories Wanted


I am a freelance writer doing an article about seniors who have
taken active, adventuresome vacations or trips -- such as hiking,
backpacking, kayaking, skiing. I'd love to hear from anyone who
is willing to share details of the experience and be quoted. I'm
writing the article for travel sections of newspapers. If you
send a few sentences by e-mail and telephone number, I will call
to do phone interview. Thanks.

A lady, one day in the park,
Drank luminous paint for a lark.
She was listless and gray
For the rest of the day,
But brightened up right after dark
     - Myla Treen, Deceased

           The Cup Of Memory
Journey Across Canada

Joyce McCartney 

My name is Joyce McCartney, and like many people, I am originally
from England, having emigrated with my parents when I was 15
years old.

The journey across Canada is still vivid in my memory, as we came
by boat from Liverpool, my parents and younger sister and I. 
Most of the sea journey I was sea-sick, and my sister had no
problem, so that she enjoyed all the meals aboard, while I
steadily got thinner and shakier!

Eventually, when we reached St. Johns Nfdld. I was beginning to
feel a touch better, until we got off the ship, for a brief stop
before going on to Halifax.  Then, to my horror, I was
'landsick'!  Standing in front of a shop window, I could see my
image waving about in the reflection...

Then on to Halifax and a train from there to Montreal. Then
another train from Montreal to Edmonton, which seemed an
adventure initially, but after a long day, then another, seemed
to be boring to two young girls, who pestered their father for
snacks every time the man came down with his tray...

A well remembered incident is the fun of the berths on the train.
 My sister and I were in the upper bunks above our parents,
accessible by a ladder which was then removed by the attendants. 
We quickly discovered that those in the upper bunks could see
into other upper bunks since curtains were not available above...

We had a tremendous giggling fit, when a heavy older lady sat up
in her bunk, curlers in her hair, and rang for the porter to
bring the ladder for a trip to the bathroom. Unfortunately, he
was busy, and she became more and more desperate as we became
more and more giggly, peeking over at her in her difficult
situation...first she tried to stretch a short fat leg over the
side, but obviously was petrified, then she slid her considerable
rear over the edge while trying to hang on above, of course that
didn't work, then she gave little moans and groans - all adding
to the scenario for us, as we were now in paroxysms and choking
with laughter.  Finally the porter did indeed arrive, and she
scuttled away down the length of the train - poor soul!


"A Bump On The Head".

Steve Rasmussen, member of Nacodoches SeniorNet.

I was a child who, in today's culture, could have wound up in the
discarded fetus buckets of an abortion clinic.  Back in the year
1926 that option to my parents was not readily available, and so
as an infant I met John Carl (J.C.) Rasmussen and his wife,
Marie.  These were the folks I would acknowledge as my parents
for the rest of my life although they were much older than my
biological parents were likely to have been.  The place was New
Orleans, and this precious memory begins at my approximate age

Marie's mother (Grandma to me and Elizabeth Patton to the rest of
the world) was eighty-nine when I was five.  I remember Grandma
as a diminutive bowed figure that I saw usually in an oversized
rocking chair.  Grandma used to go to bed each afternoon around
five p.m., but there was a ritual about her goodnights that
involved Steve.  If I wasn't out doing something I probably was
not supposed to be doing, my grandmother's bedtime was a signal
for me to spend several minutes with her.  Grandma and I sat and
talked to each other. She used to ask me about both the good and
the mischievous things that I had done that day.  She always
encouraged me and we never separated without ganging up on the
Lord with a prayer.

There was a very specific ritual during our daily moments of
togetherness. Grandma always partook of a ceramic bowl brimming
with steaming hot black coffee before she lay down to sleep. 
That was Cajun stuff.  I don't really know if I sipped that
coffee or only pretended to do so, but the ritual was that
Grandma always invited me to help her drink her bowl of coffee
before she lay down.

The bowl in which that coffee was served is of particular
consequence in this memory.  It was thick, strong and of a color
I now associate with the term "ochre".  The reason the bowl is
important is due to the fact that the accidental misuse of the
object was responsible for a three week interval in which I was
spoiled rotten.

Marie was French and Irish.  She was very loving and volatile and
sometimes expressed herself by pretending to be tougher than she
was.  Such was the case one day when she was in the kitchen and I
was working her to distraction, and she responded by flipping
that coffee bowl in my direction. Marie had thrown things in my
general direction many a time previously, but this time I moved
and turned my head just before she 'pitched', and that bowl
caught me on the back of my head just above the hairline.

Mother was so sorry and so loving and apologetic to me about
having hit me with the bowl that I got away with a multitudinous
number of transgressions in the ensuing weeks.  That was fun
capitalized, and now provides me with one of my most precious
memories, and a smiling sense of happiness.


The End of the Hindenburg

Max Goettner; supplied by patmci@net-gate.com

I awoke on the morning of May 6, 1937 to a beautiful sunny day.
We had the day off from school and my father had promised to take
all seven of us kids plus my mother to Seaside (NJ) for the day
to visit  our Aunt and Uncle. She had a hardware store there and
Uncle Frank was the Chief-of-Police. We always enjoyed visiting
them because they made a big fuss over us. I guess that was
because they had no children of their own. After packing a lunch
we set off from our Glenside, PA home for the Jersey shore. We
always stopped st Browns Mills on the way to have our lunch.
Shortly after arriving at the store, we heard something outside.


The Hindenburg  was flying low right above the Boulevard. It was
only about  three or  four hundred feet (or so it seemed) off the
ground. We could see the passengers waving  to us from behind the
windows of the gondola and we were waving furiously back at them.
After it passed, we asked my father if we could stop at the
Lakehurst Naval Air Station on the way home so we could see it
moor. We got there after five and it was kind of drizzly, so my
father would only let me and my younger brother, Lewis,  get out
of the car. My mother and five sisters stayed behind. We went out
onto the field with all the other lookers-on and waited and
waited and waited. I guess we waited almost two hours, in fact we
were getting ready to leave when some one yelled, "There it is."
The airship circled around a little bit and started to let out
its ballast and drop its lines so that the ground crew could lead
it onto the mooring mast. When all of a sudden there was a
terrible flash, a fire.

It was as if you put a match under the center of a piece of
newspaper and the way the flame breaks through. Everyone waiting
on the ground was screaming and running, as at the time we were
directly underneath it. I never saw so many  umbrellas and pocket
books dropped or thrown to the ground as people ran to get out of
the way. As we got further away we couldn't get back in again
because it was cordoned off. My 11-year-old brother and I got
separated from my father and we went back to the car to tell my
mother what happened.

We waited another half-hour for my father. He told us that he
helped a man and his daughter get to safety. They had jumped out
and when he saw them they were walking around in a daze and
didn't even recognize each other. When we tried to leave the
naval base we had a hard time going against all the traffic
coming in; ambulances,fire equipment and thrill seekers who had
heard about it. We had to find a different way home through the
back roads of New Jersey. I  remember Daddy stopping at a small
grocery store to get us all some snacks. It was quite a treat,
because he had never done that before.

Patient: Doc, I'm always forgetting stuff. What shall I do?
Doc:     Pay me in advance.

        Caught in the Web

Net Travel Goodies

Lotte Evans 

Travelling is one of my favourite pastimes, be it in person,
watching a travel movie, or surfing the net for "Travel Goodies'.
I especially enjoy this sort of travel when I plan a trip in the
foreseeable future, which I am doing at present. There is a
tremendous amount of information on places to go to, how to get
there, the history, sights and anything else the prospective
traveller might be interested in.

For starters here are a couple of web urls to check out.
Nerdworld http://www.nerdworld.com/nw188.html where you will find
information on travel covering just about any destination from
Alaska to the United Kingdom. Do you fancy to go by Concorde or
by Manx Airlines?  Nerdworld is the web site to tell you all
about it.

Now as we all know travel can be expensive and  there is nothing
more enjoyable to make ones dollar go as far as possible
therefore you might wish to try to check ou what a travel club
has to offer.  If you do try http://www.hway.net/betc/travel.htm
this club offers discounts galore, it might suit you and looking
at what is on offer might be just the ticket for you. If none of
these urls interest you than try looking around by using one of
the search engines which can take you anywhere you wish. My two
favourites are http:www.opentext.com or
http://altavista.digital.com. Put a couple of keywords in the
search line and off you go.

For example I am planning to go to the UK in September and
naturally London will be the town I will visit.  Now if you just
put London as a search word you will get thousands of pages.  But
if you just enter London sights you will get only ten sites
offering such 'Goodies' as Virtual City London: getting around
London from Daily Markets to tips on money and slang.

Are you taking children on your trip?  There is a site called
Children's London packed with ideas and information for everyone
from toddlers to teenagers. If it isn't a big city you are
hankering to visit just enter any place in the globe into either
'simple' or 'powersearch' and the world is your oyster.

If you wish to find out a bit more about your destination have a
look at usenet. There are at least fifteen discussion groups
(starting with rec.travel Africa and working down the alphabet)
where you find people give or ask for information. Discussions in
these groups are on such topics train connections, clothes to
take, what sights to see, what money to take etc. It gives me
always a No matter when or how you plan your travels always
remember anticipation is a large part of travel pleasure so make
your first destination the Internet and have fun. Lotte Evans


"I have to find my Poodle," she said doggedly.

"I turned in my gun,"Officer Duata declared disarmingly," and I
quit." he added resignedly.

Reader's Personal Home Pages

We continue to explore personal home pages of our readers and
have added several interesting ones since we last listed them:

http://home.earthlink.net/~joestewart- The home page of Joe
Stewart, a self styled high school nerd from California whose
group of nerds has been helping seniors in local retirement homes
get on line.

http://pen.k12.va.us/~apembert - Anne Pembereton's
home page. Anne is a senior volunteer working with the Academy
One - internet education project for K-12.

http://www.en.com/users/dsieg - Dick Seig is a senior working
with seniors in the PC Users group in Cinncinatti.

http://www.tcns.co.uk/chatback/elders.html - home page of a group
of UK seniors.

http://laplaza.taos.nm.us/~tom/tom.html - Tom
Bruce form Taos, NM.

http://www.why.net/home/exuian/irishcook/index.html - Pat Scott's
page of irish recipes

http://www2.coastalnet.com/~cn3468/index.html - Richard Boyd

Senior Network in Publishing 

For a look at the work of some senior writers go to
It contains essays, poetry and short stories all displayed
in fonts that are easy to read.


by James Hursey  (excerpted)

How I remember my own children's birth.
So giddy, truly, was I on that day
That, indeed, my feet hardly touched the earth,
And I felt that I would simply float away.

It's different, somehow, when a grandchild's born:
This time it's a quieter elation.
While our own are conceived in joy, then formed,
A grandchild is true procreation.

Some grand eternal cycle's consummate
And we, as grandpas, know that we've fulfilled
Our urgent task as species' advocate,
Upon which the generations build.

Now is the joy that the little one
Gives us growing up; the real pleasure
Is knowing, as we age, he'll carry on:
Therein, I think, lies grandpa's greatest treasure.

Nature provides us with the impetus
To reproduce, but life's not true complete
Until our own child has provided us
A happy grandchild playing at our feet.