Christmas Letter 2006

Dear Friends and Family,

It is the day after Christmas and our house, with open door policy in affect, is intermittently full of boys ages 6-11 running in and out bragging about who got what cool gift: iPOD shuffles, PS2 w/ secret invincibility codes, air hockey tables, retro 70’s athletic warm up clothes, heelys (shoes – skates really – w/ wheels in the sole) and debating the existence of Santa. J This gang of about a dozen boys go to school together, play baseball together, battle evil forces on Xbox and PS and have one sleep over after another - together. The good news for parents is that eventually an evening with no kids will arrive at someone’s house.

Again this past Spring our boys played baseball in the not-so-rainy Spring season, but not soccer which takes place in Autumn when the NW gets torrential sideways rain for weeks on end. Soccer Moms here do duty in the mud, wind and rain. L The Spring baseball season saw Mint change his pitching release a bit from previous successful years resulting in elevation issues that decreased his accuracy to 50-60%. His lateral control still spot on meant that he, unlike his mates, never hit a batter. Nice if you are a batter, but the sound and sight of his pitches slamming into the wooden backstop –THWACK! – and the disappointment on his face afterward is etched in my mind. Despite lots of advice he just never sorted it out. Fortunately for his ego, he did a great job as catcher throwing out kids at third, first and even home with deft tosses back to the pitcher. He remains a pretty cool character under pressure. This was born out when he calmly called out to me from the toilet one day after a game “Dad – there’s red stuff coming out when I pee. Is it blood?” “Yikes, I think – blood? that can’t be good!” A look over his shoulder confirms it. “Not to worry”, I say. “Probably from that hit you took today in the game. We’ll go see the doctor tomorrow.” However, after a regular ultrasound, an ultrasound with catheterization by cute nurses to deliver a bladder imaging chemical via the urethra and an MRI, we discovered only that one kidney is 25% the size of the other. None of this helped resolve the blood in urine mystery and none of the doc’s thought it came from the game whacking he took stealing second. However, it did help us decide that, even though he loves playing front yard football with his mates, he should probably not play organized football when he goes to 6^th grade and middle school next year

Graham - at 9 and true to Dad’s genes - is not exactly the consummate athlete, but we encourage him to play some sort of team sport for the experience of friendships it offers. So he once again started baseball season unable to throw the long ball without spinning to the ground in a malformed pirouette. This was quite a funny site making us all crack up in laughter, but also frustrating for him when older brother does it so easily. By seasons’s end though his coaches, Mother, Father and brother had helped him improve drastically. He was no longer falling down and could catch 60% of the throws to him. He even got to pitch once in a game although he admitted afterward that it had looked easier when someone else was doing it. In his first year of kid pitch he took a ball in the left kidney and was adamant that this year he was not going to play because “that really hurt!” So we gave him the option of playing soccer. Fortunately, rather than have his parents stand in the cold rain of soccer season, he decided on baseball and the possibility that he might take a stinging hardball in the back.

This Fall Graham started piano lessons and Mint went back to drum lessons. As with baseball Mint is just more talented. In spite of rhythmic and tonal challenges, Graham really enjoyed playing the piano and with a metronome his notes turned into sweet single finger music which thoroughly pleased him and me. On the trap set Mint continues to quickly figure out syncopated rhythms. Like Graham watching other kids pitch the drumming doesn’t look that difficult to me, but no matter how often I try I cannot play those limb challenging syncopations. In mathematics Graham maintains bragging rights over his older brother, but is still challenged with phonetics and reading. Undaunted by his parent’s hang-ups with his reading he took up the Tolken “Lord of The Rings” series. He also is a much better runner than Mint completing a 5k this year in hare-like fashion: run ahead, rest, repeat.

Donna worked hard again this past year on an auction to raise funds for homeless shelters and as chair of Trustees at church where she oversaw painting of our 6000 sq ft, 3 story high Sanctuary. I’d say the politics of all of this literally wore her out. In general repairing “sacred” religious structures and helping the “undesirable” homeless types brings out weird and irrational passions from both sponsors and folk who hate religion and the homeless. Still a successful tenure provided her opportunity to retire for a few years, but the same politics of church business emboldened her to continue joking about being Mayor when we retire of Moulton, Alabama where my folks live. She has joked enough about it to make me think it is no joke. With an eye to next year she began to put energy into opening our gymnasium as an emergency homeless shelter. Five years of argument over how to help the homeless resulted in a Saturday soup kitchen, but no shelter. The fight within the church to open the gym on nights where weather is inclement is not yet won, but not over either. Me thinks, she will win.

The boys again spent time on the farm with their grandparents and we joined for a few weeks. Of note was a backpack trip with my Dad to the Hike Inn in Northern Georgia where we ate and slept. Graham, who had almost nothing in his pack, ran much of the five miles, while asthmatic Mint had the heat and humidity of a wandering the woods in Summer focus his mind “are we there yet?” Also of note, the trip marked the first time ever I out hiked my Dad and now only because he is finally feeling his age with a knee that needs therapy or surgery. Thanks for letting me beat you Dad! We also waded down the Sipsey river in the Bankhead National Forest which for the first time in a long time was at a safe level allowing us to get in and look for poisonous snakes and snapping turtles. While we did see a wee turtle, no snakes were found. L

I had another great year at work, but the praise band I played in for the past four years at church finally folded and I went back to singing tenor in the choir. Not quite as challenging, but still a nice artistic release and different enough from science to relax. At work six of us from the lab spent a couple of weeks in Europe in August-September giving lectures and recruiting. This was a treat for those who had not been to Europe. Our lectures described work spent the last few years developing methods for finding protein biomarkers. Recently though we began to focus more on individual protein structure determination with hope of passing along information to medicinal chemists with whom we work to design small molecule therapies for bacterial diseases. Most funding comes from NIH which established centers of excellence in biodefense and emerging infectious disease after the anthrax deaths a few years back. Although dreadfully outdated you can read about us: depts.washington.edu/goodlab.

Complaining more than once in past years to my Dad about the neo-conservatives running DC, he wisely reminded me “The American People will decide when things need changing”. It seems they were recently so inclined and in part perhaps because people like Colin Powell among other ex-W cabinet members with moral authority finally began to speak out against a President who over spent his much ballyhoo’d “political capital”. As a former general, sworn to protect the constitution, this must have been pretty difficult for him and likely why it took he and others so long. Thankfully though, the country now seems to be re-centering. If Congress can really work together, then there is some chance that more of our tax $ will be spent for “homeland” projects like the bill to protect our ports that recently passed which, though imperfect, will spawn technological innovation and jobs. I’ll end on this positive note of hope for country and world that our politicians will talk with and not at each other!

Wishing you a Prosperous New Year from Seattle - Dave, Donna, Mint and Ham.

Christmas Letter 2005

Dear Friends, Family and Pastor Robertson,

After laying my heart on the line in last year’s letter, I am sure that many of you anxiously awaited this year’s. J Fortunately, for the faint of politik amongst you, I have had far less time to conjure this one up. BTW: the response to last year’s letter was overwhelmingly positive! Thanks for that. A recent poll ranking Seattle as the most literate American city, may explain some of my rant’s against W last year. This rank does not, of course, equate with intelligence, but it does mean we read enough to think we know what is going on and perhaps it also explains the ubiquitous Impeach Bush bumper stickers in Seattle.

Having established a tradition of sorts last year of handing out an award, I felt compelled to continue only because it helps prevent my being too depressed about the mess the country is in now domestically and internationally. This year’s choice for W award recipient, given out for bungling incompetence of the most ridiculous sort, was not easy. To be a contender one had to say or do something so stupid that it could easily become a Saturday Night Live skit. This year’s finalists were: 1) W himself for masquerading as a leader, 2) his horse judging buddy “Brownie” of FEMA “yerh doin’ a heck uv uh jobe Brownie” fame and 3) Pastor Robertson for pedaling theocracy. No surprise then that Mr. Robertson won, not for masquerading as Pastor, but for: 1) calling for the assassination of a democratically elected foreign leader and 2) condemning Dover, PA by assuring them that God will not answer their prayers because they booted the Intelligent Design promoting school board out. If you know anyone sending Mr. Robertson money, then please ask them instead to send it to their local homeless shelter where they can buy toilet paper and other necessities of life. If not for serious people out there pushing theocracy of the Taliban variety for the US, then this would be a joke. It ain’t no joke.

Speaking of right v. left….conservative v. liberal….my Dad “reckoned” to me during my visit home that many folk don’t even know the difference between liberal and conservative. I don’t recall what I said, but I do recall that there are many things one should not speak too ardently about in polite southern culture lest one insult one’s neighbors or family; e.g. winning the Alabama v. Auburn football game or politics. War Eagle! OK, so I’m a slow learner, but rules laws are made to be broken. Right,W ? .….So, I pondered how best to explain the difference. Given that it tizz the Christmas season, Jesus’ example popped right to mind. You’d better lash yourself to yerh bully pulpit Pat, cuzzz I gotta tell you the truth. Given what we know, Jesus was….ehrr….a liberal. J Of course most prophets are liberals. They present society with options to the conservative comfort zone. What Jesus promoted (helping the disenfranchised, e.g. prostitutes and the socially impoverished, and throwing money changers out of the temple) went completely against the conservative rules of society that kept, then and today, the poor and disenfranchised in their places.

In spite of their liberal parents, our wonderful boys David (9) and Graham (8) had a fairly conservative year in 2005. As in years past they went back to the farm in Alabama for a month in Summer; participated in cub scouts during which time I once again made both of their losing entries to the annual pinewood derby car race; studied Spanish; exchanged far too many plastic toys at birthday parties; cried wolf for numerous reasons known only to their developing senses of social etiquette; and of course played baseball in the Spring. I too continued my conservative ways (doing the same thing over and over again) at work which included writing grants most of which were not funded L; teaching graduate students – which has turned out to be one of the best things ever; lecturing in far off places (Japan, Sicily, Finland, Scotland, England, Canada, Spain) sigh! … near year’s end & in Scotland a 2^nd time, I cancelled on Germany – due to mental fatigue, and returned to maintaining order amongst the fifteen folk in our laboratory who insist on not getting along when you least expect it; and playing in our church’s praise band. Donna also continued many of the same old habits by working hard on the homeless auction board to run the auction, serving as chair of the board of trustees at church, working at the boy’s school, trying to maintain order while I was away and taking on the office duties for another of my ventures where I began work as an editor at Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry.

David had his musical debut this year when he played wood block with our praise band and again at school in the orchestra on snare drum where there were so many different rhythms I don’t know how he kept track. His pitching confidence improved over last year (see bubble blown during pitch in accompanying photo), but a hitting slump saw him throw a few major league type fits. His habit of slow straight throws across the plate got him lots of defensive plays off the mound most of which resulted in the runner being thrown out at first. BTW: this poise must come from his Pa Goodlett or his Mom. While he has said at times “Dad, I was so nervous….” and he is very shy, it never shows in his pitching. He is supposed to go up a league in Spring where 4^th - 6^th graders play and finally use real (i.e. hard like a rock) baseballs. We hope he can, but over this past year he has been losing weight which may hold him back. Tests show it isn’t Celiac’s disease. Nor is it any other obvious malady. So is it a genetic tendency to slow growth? I dunno. Genetics probably, because in spite of my current weight problem – I weigh 20 lbs too much L – I was a really skinny child as was his Pa Goodlett.

Graham on the other hand weighs about the same as his taller brother and dramatically improved his baseball skills, but oddly without practice. This kid really hates practice - of any sort. The improvement in skills came the same as riding a bike last year – seemingly from no where. After some nonchalant observations, he just started hitting the ball. Bingo! Thar yah go. What’s all the fuss about this coach pitch league? This Fall he started 2nd grade and was allowed to enroll in a 4^th grade sketch class at school where each child made a kind of cartoon flip-O-rama (a’ la Captain Underpants) movie booklet. He loves drawing and has a decent sense of perspective for someone his age, but continues to struggle to read efficiently. However, when pushed his math & spelling skills are as good as his brother’s. Rather than poise under pressure, the defining virtue of this fine young lad is that he feels no compulsion to demonstrate anything to anyone. This, plus other unmentioned evidence, makes me suspect some mild dyslexia, but also some honestly, inherited indolence J – and this from me. Oh yeah, he loves quoting from TV’s “My Name is Earl”, watching Survivor and any bug eating show.

After last year’s letter some of you may think we in Seattle are of the most left-wing liberal variety because we protest the war and support the troops, won’t let our boys have gameboys and embrace the non-hetero types among us. So here is one final story to set you straight. J A couple years ago, after all the older folk (i.e. octogenarians +) at church had become accustomed to non-hetero types sitting next to them in the pews, an odd thing happened that put us back in our mainline liberal place. It was a warm Summer morning for Seattle. And, with not a cloud in the sky it promised to reach the 90’s by the time church got out. Robin, not his real name, strolled in that fine morning looking like he had not shaved nor had a haircut in many years. As we have plenty of homeless who wander in for service no one noticed at first. Quickly that changed though as we all simultaneously realized that Robin, now halfway down the center aisle, was decked out in a beautiful, but far from opaque, lavender sun dress. Effeminate in demeanor, but looking manly in the beard, it was difficult for me to keep a straight face as I approached to greet him. But greet him I did, taking his witness of a woman trapped inside this body. “How could God get this wrong”, he asked? “Shouldn’t the ushers have stopped him gettin’ in”, I wondered? One pew back Miss Alice (90 + yrs old) probably thought she had seen it all since the church had come out of the closet, but she had a sick look on her face as she spied his tightie-whities through the sun dress. I’m sure that, had she gotten over being stunned by this spectacle, she would have lectured him on when to wear a proper slip. Fortunately, for us Robin never returned and we can call ourselves religious and social liberals – as in just left of the center, but not so far left that we meet right. Yuck! L

Google for “goodlab proteomics” and you’ll find my homepage. To find out what others of us are up to please contact us via goosci@msn.com or donnamgoodlett@msn.com or on my mobile at 206.465.6165 or Donna’s at 206.679.7096. BTW: as my niece Alex found out when she searched the University of Washington directory, you won’t find me. Two years after starting I have yet to find time to walk a silly piece of paper across campus. J Finally, and most sincerely, please keep W and his legal team in your prayers. They’ll need it in 2006 and given that Cheney is no Ford, we certainly don’t want a repeat of what befell “Tricky Dicky”. J God bless you all, God bless the world that lost 200,000+ people to natural disasters since I last wrote and God bless the free press’ of the world who are “workin’ hard” trying to keep government as honest as possible

………………..Ciao’ now from Seattle.

Christmas Letter 2003

C H R I S T M A S 2 0 0 3 f r o m t h e G o o d l e t t s I n S e a t t l e

“Where’d ya get that?” I asked Mint. “Guitar-guy” he replied, but I’m thinkin’ … I saw him give Graham a guitar pick and say he could keep it, but not you. Hmm, I thought. I bet he stole it out of jealousy. He didn’t get one. So he took one. Seemed out of character, but I confronted him. “You stole it. Didn’t you?” I asked. The truth peeled back only after several more lies each more incriminating than the last. On the drive back to the store and through much hysteria, we rehearsed what he would say “Excuse me. Earlier today I took this pick without asking and now I want to pay for it.” We arrived and I had to practically drag him into the store tears flowing so fast he was near drowning. “What’s the matter?” I ask. “I’m embarrassed!! It’s not fair!!! Graham got a pick and I didn’t!” he croaked. Standing in front of the counter with picks the rehearsed line barely stumbled out. I started to explain only to hear the guitar-guy glibly reply “It’s OK kid. Those are free”. Ah, relief for father and son. So it was free, but of course he didn’t know that when he lifted it out of the jar. In the end I had the satisfaction of knowing my 7 year old had reluctantly tried to make it right, and he, that he hadn’t actually stolen anything. Always something new being a Dad, but I really love it! I can’t imagine life without the boys. We are all learning important lessons.

Graham played T-ball with some of the goofiest kids ever this past spring. Digging a hole to sit in while playing defense was equally important to good hitting. They were as goofy as Mint’s team of coach-pitch league first graders were serious. Of course these kids were goofy too. With flashes of seriousness inserted in between the mock catches and throws, this was more circus than game. During Mint’s practice some dad’s hurled balls at their 6 year olds with the fast, furious frustration of someone who had played the game, but never made it. Meanwhile, I lobbed balls overhand at Mint and Graham slowly enough that when I hit them (mostly in the head) they didn’t cry too long before asking me to try again so they could bat. At least they learned to move off the plate. Anyway, they both loved baseball and want to play again this Spring. Graham, within a few pounds the weight of Mint, missed the cut off for first grade, but is loving kindergarten. Both of them love mathematics as witnessed by their nagging to be quizzed ad hoc at breakfast, in the car, before bed, etc. They are in the same cub scout pack and I their den leader. They both love music; the book series called I Spy where one tries to locate certain items in a maze of many similar but unexpected items; Yu Gi Oh cards; and of course wrestling each other like bear cubs. Graham, not afraid to throw the first punch when provoked by Mint (we need to work on his non-violent reaction more), filters few of his thoughts wondering out loud why certain parts of his body (that boys have but girls don’t) tingle when he thinks of girls. Help!!

This past Summer we sent the boys home to the farm in Moulton for 4 weeks to be with my parents after which we joined them to spend a week at the beach in Gulf Shores, Alabama. Donna and I had not been there since before we married and the boys never. For them it was a first experience with warm water and sandy beaches – both impossible to find together in Washington state. During that time I pondered and finally accepted a job as associate professor at the University of Washington in the department of medicinal chemistry where I start 1 January 2004. I have literally seen the world via the Institute for Systems Biology and as a result am more than ready for change. Even if University politics turns out to be second only to religious politics in internecine conflicts, I am sure it will be a pleasure to have graduate students for whose development I am at least partially responsible. As of this writing, Donna will probably take a break from the real estate business in 2004 with the intent to focus on herself, issues with homelessness in Seattle and us boys.

Best wishes for a wonderful and prosperous life with family and friends in 2004!

Dave goosci@msn.com or Donna donnamgoodlett@msn.com

Christmas Letter 2002

Over the last year our car, aged 14 years, developed a habit of not starting on request. The annoyance was resolved in relatively quick fashion depending on your point of view during a 6 month period that included 3 visits to garage, $1000 spent not including rental car fees and several episodes that left Donna stranded. My frugal efforts to keep our Mazda MX6 GT with only 211,000 miles, 3 cross-country trips and a connection to our youthful days, including several mountain stream crossings and the original turbocharger running, were beginning to fail. It remained, however, the envy of kids working at the local muffler shop, where they asked “Is that the original equipment?”

Alas, it pains me to report, yes, that was the original equipment - tears streaming down my face now. What was to become my car, when we bought the Ford Escape hybrid in 2003 that gets 40 mpg in the city making a statement about the oil economy and wars in the Middle East, and then Mint’s first car when he turned 16 in only ten more years, will now be someone’s parts car!!! She was totaled in one of the many unsigned intersections in Seattle; i.e. a 4-way stop with no signs at which the approaching drivers yield (or not in this case) to the driver on the right. A confusing and dangerous heritage left over from our more trusting and cautious Nordic city founders. Fortunately, the van plowed into the left rear wheel well and not the driver’s side door. The kids and I weren’t in the car which was spun around causing a whiplash effect that strained Donna’s back and neck. She was at first prescribed massage therapy, but lingering problems with picking things up has lead to more involved physical therapy. This was not the way she wanted to end a year that was busy with real estate sales, Motherhood and me traveling a lot. She is proud of the fact that while I was gallivanting in England, France, Finland, Switzerland and Japan, she added service on a non-profit board overseeing groups like “Tent city” (a transient encampment of homeless families) to her duties.

Dang it, if the dog didn’t die too this year. At 15 years of age Dapper was as old as our marriage. We had her put to sleep after she refused for over a week to get up from what a post-mortem revealed to be a large abdominal tumor. The MX6 still bore the gouges in the passenger side window glass where she tried to get at our good friend Jeff Rohrer. He had just finished saying something like “nice to see you again Dapper” when she had at him. Apparently, he thought her memories of him fonder than she could recall. She could be a handful.

Mint, also quite a handful at times, had a good experience with T-ball. As the son of a former varsity-team water-boy for the high school football team, sports come natural to him. Anyway, he is enjoying first grade, learning to spell, read and socialize. Graham is quite a lad in his own right. He is the dirt eater, bathtub water drinker, chatterbox of the two. Turning 5 at October’s end meant he could not start kindergarten this year - a real disappointment to he and to Mint who are buddies first and brothers second. Together they spent three blissful weeks on my parent’s farm in Moulton, Alabama this past summer. Piles of cow’s poop, sweltering heat, catfish, fried okra, potatoes straight from the earth, swimming, lightning bugs, giant garden spiders, bees that sting, cousins and Grandma & Pa were good for them.

In celebration of 15 years of marriage Donna went along on one of my “business” trips to Europe. My Dad and Mom, who came out to stay with the boys during this time, found it odd that two lectures in two weeks in Prague and Siena qualified as business. Donna did too, but she caught on right away to this Euro-style business I was conducting. Each day saw her up by 9AM, breakfast, shopping, lunch, shopping, meeting Dave for drinks, a walk, dinner and bed.

In closing please say a prayer for the feuding children of Abraham. For those of you who don’t pray, please have a drink and discussion about why Jews, Christians and Muslims find it necessary to continue to blow each other up.

With hope for a peaceful future, we wish you all a prosperous new year!

Christmas Letter 2001

CHRISTMAS 2001

After driving passed beaches strung with barbed wire where armed guards monitored foot traffic in designated swimming-only areas, we arrived at Naksan temple, near the North Korean border. Walking up a long winding path through woods a slow steady rain fell. We continued around seaside where we faced a Buddhist temple perched on the cliff high above the Pacific Ocean. I was a bit nervous about going inside while my friends seemed only curious as if headed to a museum. The female monk speaking in Korean, motioned for us to come in, sit and pray. We removed our shoes and passed sock footed inside to a sea of pastel colored lotus flowers in shiny silk material suspended from the ceiling. The room, only 20’x20’, was crowded with displays of Buddhist art. Incense burned my nostrils as I inhaled slowly. I immediately lost track of Youngim and Garry while I said prayers. I was worried – once again – about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and its spread so I prayed for world peace. When I opened my eyes Youngim motioned for me to put an incense stick in the alter urn which I did. Turning to leave the monk spoke again in Korean politely pointing at me. Youngim smiled at me saying, “The monk says that of the three of us only your prayer was sincere”. Creepy chills tingled down my spine, but I managed a smile in return. We stepped outside, put on shoes and walked away. The monk ran out after us and into the rain with a gift of rice cake and fruit. It was Sunday afternoon 9 September. In a few days my ‘sanctioned’ prayer for world peace would seem really spooky.

Mint, now called David at school of his own volition, although he still writes MINTER as his name, began half-day (really only 2.5 hours) kindergarten while I was flying around the world in September from Seattle to Korea to Croatia to home. When asked his name he says the whole darn thing “David Minter Goodlett”. Not sure how that goes over on the playground, but he’ll get it sorted out. His past annual bouts with bronchitis/pneumonia are under control thanks to a regimen of Claritin and a frustrated pediatrician willing to take my advice, “It’s allergies and the subsequent massive sinus drainage, not a cold, that cause the lung infections!”. He, apparently, has an inherited immune disorder that causes hyper-reactivity to allergens that he shares with me. So far he loves school including the homework and loves to practice playing baseball. Guess he might get to play T-ball next year if his asthma is under control. Meanwhile, Graham (aka Hammie-boy or HB) has blossomed into a chattering 4 year old with an infectious smile. I don’t quite understand him like I understand Mint and I don’t think it is lack of trying. He is just different enough to confuse me. He seems to be more mechanically inclined than his brother and has less situational fear. Unlike his brother who wails at the slightest scratch, HB rarely cries when hurt. I am more likely to hear from him “look Dad I am bleeding, but it doesn’t really hurt”. However, he can’t yet recite a simple prayer –most likely this is an “I don’t need to demonstrate this to you phenomenon” rather than a real problem. His Mom says that his uncle Eddie a former crew-chief (i.e. the guy who rebuilds/repairs planes often in flight) on a C-130 has a similar kind of hands-on intelligence demonstrable only on a need to know basis. So maybe it is an inherited trait. Intent on whatever the task at hand happens to be, HB is “like a duck on a June bug”. And speaking of bugs, both boys love them. They spent endless hours this past Spring-Summer hunting snails and spiders. Amazingly, they can spend all day digging in the dirt under the big cedar tree in the backyard and not have a squabble. Trouble between the two only starts when Mint dispenses his perverted idea of sharing, namely 70 for me 30 for you.

Notable for me this year was construction of a 40’ long by 5’ high retaining wall out of stackable 60 lb. blocks (i.e. dry weight and they mostly weren’t dry) across the backyard. Donna had bought these blocks a year earlier while I was in Spain. As summer 2001 approached and the monstrous blue-tarped artwork in the drive way began to fade, she was a bit skeptical of my intentions. I’m thinkin’, “What’s the hurry? They don’t look that bad in the driveway. It’s just 8 tons of blocks under a faded blue tarp”. In fact I waited so long that by the time I got ready in April of this year to get going on the wall the wooden pallets were rotting. This meant that prior to building I had to move and restack them by hand in the back yard some 50 yards away rather than use a forklift. The blocks were in fact so heavy that I could not lift one above my waist. Still it was fun and I wish I had time to build more retaining walls. Donna, now in her third year as a real estate agent, had profitable year! She even sent us guys off to Alabama for a week this Summer and re-painted parts of the house. She finds that she really can keep the house clean and tidy as long as we don’t live here. I think she was happy to know that she still had it in her to keep a tidy house and, as she suspected, we were the real culprits. It is difficult for us guys to escape our hunter-gather nomadic genes that focus our attention on gratification of single BIG goals.

Our prayers go out to our military family and friends this year that will be in harms way. To win this fight against terrorism, we have to believe our model of government that allows freedom of religion rather than suppressing it and the sometimes onerous freedom of speech, is the best one available. We also have to believe that one individual life in the fight for freedom is worth giving just as do the terrorists. So go ahead and travel but with both eyes wide open. As a country we have a lot of faults that engender animosity world-wide but this is nothing new to the relationship between the reigning dominant country in the world and those influenced by it. It is an aged problem – older than the celebration of Christmas. If they weren’t angry at us then it would be the Brits or the French and before that it was the Romans and the Mongolians, etc. There is always someone to be angry at. It is getting along that is tough. So pray for world peace.

Merry Christmas 2001 and Happy Holidays,

Dave, Donna, David-Minter and Graham.