Standing Into Danger

Friday, January 29, 2016

Still Absent

Just to let you know,
I'm still being held hostage by life!

But I'm okay!
And I'm seeing light
at the end of the tunnel!

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Where in the World Is Fundy Blue?

I have hit rock bottom.
I am impossibly behind on blogging.
Well, almost impossibly.

I shall return to posting on Friday.
Meanwhile, I shall be enjoying my favorite pastime:
Catching Up.
Maybe this time I'll figure it out!

Friday, January 8, 2016

The Lansdowne Letters: Dad Makes a Life-Changing Decision

During freeze-up in Northern Ontario a half century ago,
people in the scattered and remote communities
hunkered down and waited for the ice to thicken
on the countless lakes in the land of beautiful waters.

The Stillness of the Remote Northern Ontario Winter

Flickr: Andrew Kaszowski License (Edited)

Some wrote letters during this difficult time
and waited for the day when the ski planes could land
bringing welcome mail and flying their accumulated letters out.

My father was not writing a stockpile of letters to fly out
when the first plane broke Lansdowne House's profound isolation.
He was busy dealing with other things.
The loneliness of the subarctic boreal forest,
magnified by the lack of communication with the Outside,
drove my father to a life-changing decision for our family.

My mother and we five children in rural Nova Scotia
had no inkling of what my father was thinking and doing,
cutoff as we were from all news from the North.

My mother struggled with the same heartache
and loneliness of separation that my father faced,
a fact that Mom, being Mom, protected us from.
As late November stretched into December
she calmly sorted through our daily mail
hiding her increasing hope and then increasing disappointment
when Dad's distinctive handwriting didn't appear
scrawled across an envelope in the pile.

My first tangible clue of what was to come
arrived in a letter from my father's friend Maureen McRae.
When it appeared after its long journey from the northern bush,
it shook up our sheltered, ordinary lives
and filled romantic me with excitement.

A Letter from Maureen

On Friday, December 2, 1960
Maureen McRae wrote to my mother:

Dear Sara and Family,
Well it sure was nice to get your lovely letter.
Glad to hear you’re all fine.

My have we ever been busy lately.
Lord what will I do when I have as many children as you and Don. (I want six).

Everything happened to me today.
First Duncan and the highchair
took a very graceful fall
to the floor – face down.

Baby Duncan and Maureen

Photo by Don MacBeath

After I had got him pacified, I tripped,
then we had sausages for lunch and Duncan C. can’t stand them.

Then Duncan C. brought the pilot up for coffee,
and my kitchen looks like we had World War II fought in there.
Oh well – one of those days you can’t make a penny.

On top of that my mum’s letter cheered us us immensely –
Duncan’s Uncle Rod had died and another aunt is in the hospital.
So it was rather nice to receive the pictures and your cheery letter.

Well baby Duncan has two teeth now and is starting on his third.
We sure are pleased with him.
He is more fun than a picnic.

I know Christmas will seem awfully lonely without Don.
I understand cause Duncan and I celebrated
our first anniversary about five hundred miles apart.
I had to go out to Winnipeg to have baby Duncan.

When I was out friends of my mother’s
were constantly saying that I was such a poor dear,
and so brave being so many miles from civilization.
But I love it, and I’m sure you will too.

Maureen McRae

Father's Island, Lansdowne House

Roman Catholic Church, Windcharger, and Dad and and Uno's Shack in Background

Photo by Don MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

December 6, 1960:
Wash day today, great fun.
Hi! I got sideyracked for about four days,
but here I am again.

Don was over yesterday, Sara, and he’s very lonely.
Not that I blame him.
I would have been climbing the walls by now if I were him.

Nothing beats having your family with you – your wife especially.
So he said he was writing to ask you
if you and your brood would come up in January.

We certainly would love to see you come up here.
You would be staying in the Forestry house –
It is small, but I’m sure you could manage.
You would have a propane stove to cook on,
and there is lots of cupboard space in the kitchen.

The Forestry House

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Your front room windows would give you a lovely view
of the lake when spring comes,
and I’m sure you wouldn’t miss the ocean that much
when there’s such a lovely lake out front.

Lake Attawapiskat

View from Outside the Forestry House

Lansdowne House, Developed in August 1961

Photo by Don MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

Now in the way of clothes,
I brought everything with me except my formals.
It is so nice to have a good dress to put on to brighten you up.
For winter as long as the kids have warm boots
and snow outfits they’ll be warm.

If I were you, I’d bring your personal things, knicknacks,
an extra tube of lipstck, your iron, lots of clothespins
(I can’t spell at all today), bedding, linens, and such.
If you have some scatter rugs, bring them cause
they sure are nice on these floors. They’re chilly.

Oh! You would need curtains for your livingroom windows.
The Indians have a tendancy of looking in at night.
If you like, I could send you the measurements
and you could make them.
Mine are dark cloth, anything would be fine
as long as you can’t see through them.

If you come, we would be getting the drier right away so that would help.
We’re seeing about a propane gas one right now.

The girls could sleep on the bunkbeds in one bedroom,
and Roy could sleep on the davenport in the living room
I don’t think he’d mind. My brother did it for years.
He’d sleep in mum and dad’s bed until company left,
and then Dad would carry or walk him into his bed.

There are good-sized closets in the bedrooms, so that would come in handy.
The utility room could be used as a combination washroom and bathroom.
The oil burner would keep the house real warm.

We sure hope you’ll come. I’m sure you could manage,
and I’ll gladly give you a hand when you move in if you’d like that.
Oh please come!

Now I’m trying to think of more things to bring that you’ll need.
Oh, a small first aid kit will come in handy.

Also the house was just built a year and a half ago,
and it’s in good condition. There’s tiles for the floor too.

I’m sure you’d like this place.
The women are quite nice (all four of us),
and we’re all very easy to get along with.
I’ll write again when I think of other things.
Sincerely,
Maureen

Well! You can imagine the excitement this letter caused!
I had a very different reaction from my mother, I'm sure.
I was headed into the North, into the wilderness!
My siblings and I were going to be the only white children,
except for three small babies.
I was going to go to school with real Indians!
Not that our local Mi'kmaq weren't real Indians,
but they were, well, ordinary Nova Scotians.

My mother was reading between the lines of Maureen's letter:
a tiny house with no electricity or running water,
and the "bathroom" was a chemical toilet
that had to be dumped daily in the community repository.
Perhaps she hadn't realized what the "bathroom" was yet,
but she certainly understood the challenges of
taking five young children into the northern bush
and of the work required on her part to make it happen.

Some women would have
quailed at the thought,
and perhaps Mom did briefly,
but she had the heart of an adventurer,
and as much as I longed
to experience the North,
she longed to every bit as much and more.

Photo by Don MacBeath
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

A Hint of Things to Come

On the Shores of Lake Attawapiskat

Roy, Gretchen (dachshund), Me (Louise), Mom (Sara) and Bertie

Photo by Don MacBeath

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue

Beautiful Cove on Long island,
in the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Links to Earlier Posts:

TLL: Heading for the Winter Traplines

TLL: Lessons with Father Ouimet

Notes:
1. The McRaes:
Duncan C. worked for the Department of Transport,
and his duties included running the DOT Weather Station.
He and his wife Maureen were staunch friends of my father.

2. Land of Beautiful Waters:
"Ontario" is a corruption of the Iroquois word Onitariio, meaning beautiful lake,
or Kanadario, variously translated as beautiful water.
Ontario has some 250,000 lakes and over 100,000 kilometres (62,000 mi) of rivers. Wikipedia
The myriad of lakes in Northern Ontario is the most distinctive feature of the Boreal Shield.
To me, the area around Lansdowne House seemed more water than land.

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Surrounded by Water

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Wikimedia

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

IWSG: Wednesday, January 6, 2016 ~ Contemplating the Possibilities!

It's the first Wednesday
of the month ~
the day when members of the
Insecure Writer's Support Group
share their writing struggles
and offer their encouragement
and support to other members.

To visit the IWSG website, click here.

To become a member of the IWSG, click here.

Our wonderful co-hosts who are stepping up to help
IWSG founder Alex J. Cavanaugh are: L. G. Keltner, Denise Covey, Sheri Larsen, J. Q. Rose, Chemist Ken and Michelle Wallace.

Visit them and thank them for co-hosting.
I'm sure they would appreciate an encouraging comment!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Happy New Year, Everyone!

How exhilarating it is to look forward
and contemplate the possibilities 2016 brings!
I am grateful to be alive, healthy, happy,
and blessed with good fortune.

Visiting in Breckenridge During Christmas Week

Colorado, USA

All Rghts Reserved

I'm anticipating many good and hopeful things,
and the struggle with writing is one of them:
That stare-at-the-blank-page,
tearing my hair out,
coffee, ginger, and chocolate fueled
fight to wrestle the right words onto the page.
It can be agony, but it makes me feel so alive!

I am excited about where my memoir
and it's research will take me this year.

Just before Christmas, when I was writing out Christmas cards,
I was also sorting through a collection of old letters and cards.
I came across one written by Father Ouimet.
Father Ouimet is a key figure in my memoir.

Father Ouimet with My Father, Don MacBeath

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Fall 1960

All Rghts Reserved

I touched his signature at the bottom of his letter,
running my fingers across "With Love, Maurice."
I felt such peace, love, and support flooding my heart,
as if Father Ouimet were with me
telling me I'm doing the right thing
to persist with this maddening memoir of mine.

All Rghts Reserved

So far this journey has been a chaos of difficult emotions.
I still have them, but they are bound up with peace and love.
It's a weird and wonderful development that is carrying me forward.

A Path and a Way Forward

Burro Trail, Breckenridge, Colorado, USA

All Rghts Reserved

So this is where I am with my writing as I move into 2016.

My goal is to have a complete first draft by the end of November.

I would enjoy hearing what your thoughts are

about your writing plans for the year!

Certainly I am looking forward to visiting

as many of your posts as I can!

I wish each of you, fellow IWSG members,

a fulfilling writing journey this year!

With Thanks to My Ever-Patient Terry

Who Stands by Me and Supports Me Every Step of the Way

All Rghts Reserved

Friday, December 25, 2015

The Lansdowne Letters: Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

I'm especially thinking of all my wonderful blogging friends.
The biggest delight of blogging for me is the friendship
of these amazing, kind, and supportive bloggers.

I hope that you and your loved ones are enjoying
a lovely time this beautiful Christmas Day!

Terry and I are up in Breckenridge, Colorado,
with Terry's sister, Noreen, her husband Cathal,
their sons Kevin and Conor, and their
daughter Deirdre and her new husband Will.
It is peaceful here in Breckenridge,
with lots of snow piled up
and a light dust of powder drifting down.

On this Christmas day I thought I would share two things.
The first is a photo of Santa Claus arriving
in Lansdowne House for a special Christmas party
Dad held for his Indian children at his school.

It was a brilliant sunny day in Lansdowne House,
the kind that makes your eyes hurt
if you look at the snow too long.
And at a frigid 30º below Fahrenheit (-34º C),
the snow squeaked when you walked on it.

Somehow the cold rarely mattered in the sunshine;
although, pilots had to cover their ski planes
to keep the engines from freezing up.

Santa Claus with Mrs. Mitchell

Lansdowne house, Northern Ontario

December, 1960

Photo by Don MacBeath

The second thing I'm sharing is my favorite Christmas hymn,
the Huron Carol, the first carol written in Canada,
in North America for that matter.

It was written by Father John de Brébeuf
during his time as a Jesuit missionary
to the Huron Indians from 1626 to 1649.

Martyr and Apostle of the Hurons
Wikipedia

The Huron and Iroquois nations were at war
during the mid-seventeenth century starting in 1642.
The Iroquois attacked his Huron mission,
and after brutally torturing Father de Brébeuf,
they burned him at the stake.

Escaping Hurons saved the words to his carol,
and Father Étienne de Villeneuve recorded them.
The carol was found among de Villeneuve's
papers after his death in 1794.

The Roman Catholic Church beatified
Father John de Brébeuf in 1925
and canonized him as a saint in 1930.
Seven other Jesuit missionaries were canonized with him.

The North American Martyrs
Wikipedia

I first heard this haunting carol
when my family went North in early 1961.
From that moment it was my favorite
and remains so today.

The carol is an example of inculturalization.
Early missionaries in Canada used the cultural idioms
of the Indians to teach them about Christianity.
It was my observation in Lansdowne House
that priests and ministers still used inculturalization.
Adoremus

Here is a recording of Huron Carol by the Canadian Tenors:

You Tube ~ francislims

And here are the complete lyrics to this beautiful Canadian carol.
I have chosen the 1926 English version by Jesse Edgar Middleton.

'Twas in the moon of winter-time
When all the birds had fled,
That mighty Gitchi Manitou
Sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wandering hunters heard the hymn:
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

Within a lodge of broken bark
The tender Babe was found,
A ragged robe of rabbit skin
Enwrapp'd His beauty round;
But as the hunter braves drew nigh,
The angel song rang loud and high...
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."

The earliest moon of wintertime
Is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory
On the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt
With gifts of fox and beaver pelt.
Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria.

O children of the forest free,
O sons of Manitou,
The Holy Child of earth and heaven
Is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant Boy
Who brings you beauty, peace and joy.
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,

In excelsis gloria."
Wikipedia

I will be back with my regular Lansdowne Letter posts
on New Year's Day.
Enjoy the rest of your holiday season.

Note:
1. Joseph Boyden, a Canadian author, wrote The Orenda.
It is an historical novel that takes place in Canada
during the last days of the Huron Confederacy
in the early to mid seventeenth century.
One of its three narrators is a French Jesuit
missionary priest named Christophe.
Christophe's character is based on Father John de Brébeuf.

Monday, December 21, 2015

Monday Morning Music Break: First Edition and Computers !@#$%^ Argh!

This is how my mind feels sometimes:

You Tube: You Can't Download Vinyl

It felt loudly like this last Thursday night
when I was trying to finish my northern post.

The Ever-Patient Terry had headed off to bed
biting his tongue to avoid saying,
"Don't stay up late; you know what condition you're in."

He was thinking medically and psychologically.
Some battles can't be won, and he wisely
pulled the covers up over his head and went to sleep.

I was at the counter tearing my hair out
as I tried to upload a Wikipedia map
and mark Lansdowne House on it.
I had managed to do something like that once before,
but I couldn't remember how.

After a lot of cursing, chocolate, and ginger,
more than a few tears,
numerous counter pounds,
and shenanigans I managed this:

Location of Lake Attawapiskat

Inland from Akimiski Island in James Bay

Wikimedia edited

Eventually even I figure out the battle is lost,

so I gave up, scheduled my post, and went to bed.
!@#$%^ Argh!

Friday morning:

With a brand new, sunny day

and a fresh burst of optimism,

I knew there had to be a better way.

I started searching on Google and found this promising lead:

How to Add Text to Photos Easily Using Preview in Mac OS X.

Now, if you're not challenged by computers,

i.e. LD in computers,

nor intimidated,
impulsive,

easily frustrated,

anxious,

panicked, and

know you're stupid, Stupid, STUPID with technology,

you probably would have started with that simple search

long before 10:30 p.m. when you're trying to get a post out.

But that's not me.

So I this morning I started in somewhat
slowly, calmly, methodically,

and voilà:

Wikimedia edited

On a roll, I kept experimenting:

Location of Lansdowne House

Wikimedia edited

Now, it's not as if I don't know better.

After all, my Apple trainers and

the geniuses at the Genius Bar

have all told me that I go way too fast

overwhelming my computer so it freezes or crashes,

don't see things in front of me,

and am too rough with the mousepad and keys.

"Slowly, calmly, gently," Kimberly would say.

I forget all of that when I'm frustrated.

But now I feel brilliant!

Beat you again, Computer!

I figured it out!

Slowly, but surely, I'm making it work!

Now if I can just remember!

On a time-pressed day, Dad could manage this:

Dad's Quick Sketch

But with more time and computer help, I can do this:

My Sketch with Preview Help

I am a happy person!
But one of these days, I'll find The Perfect Map.
In the meantime
my new maps are stashed in my photo library.

Sheldon would understand!

Google

Friday, December 18, 2015

The Lansdowne Letters: Bittersweet

About this time fifty-five years ago,
my father was cut off from the Outside,
as he and others in Northern Ontario waited
for the lakes to freeze solidly enough for bush planes
to land and connect them with civilization again.

Winter in Northern Ontario

Flickr: peupleloup license

While Dad waited it out in Lansdowne House,
Mom persevered alone, looking after we five children
in her mother's home in Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia.
He had no contact with his wife and family,
and they had no contact with him.

In Our Grandmother MacDonald's Backyard
Roy, Donnie, Louise (Me) with Bertie, and Barbie

During this period my mother made a special effort
to write letters to her mother-in-law, a widow,
living alone in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island.
Being unable to communicate with my father
was a hardship for my Grandmother MacBeath
because Dad was her only surviving child.

A Rare Photo of My Father
with His Parents,
Roy and Myrtle MacBeath
Prince Edward Island, Canada

My mother's letters were usually simple.
With five children aged one to ten,
she was lucky to cobble a few words together.
But her scant sentences, followed by a few of my own,
trigger bittersweet memories for me,
and remind me again, of a path not taken.

On Friday, November 25, 1960
My mother wrote to her mother-in-law:

Dear Mother:
The children are at Sunday School now,
so I thought I’d get some letters are written.

I made Don’s Christmas cake yesterday.
It made a lovely big cake.
I hope he gets it all right.
I put a couple of boxes of icing sugar in with it.

I will get the rest of his parcels off before the end of this week.
I will return the receipt with this.
I have made several copies and included your changes.

The children are writing exams this coming week.
Here they are now, home from Sunday School.

We planted daffodils yesterday.
There isn’t any new news.

I hope you write soon and tell me
what you and Aunt Maude would like for Christmas.
I am going to get Louise to add a few lines to this.
With love,
Sara

P.S. Could you send the animals from Red Rose Tea
for Barbie and Donnie?

Dear Nana and Aunt Maude,
Yesterday I sold $16.00 of Christmas cards.
We also planted daffodil bulbs, baked a cake,
and I did the dishes for Mom.

At school I have an average of 96.7,
and I haven’t gone below ninety yet.
I am also the smartest in music.
Hardly anyone knows their notes.

The teacher bought me a special book all about music.
It’s called “Fun with Music.”
Love,
Louise

How many times have I washed dishes
in the little pantry off Grammie's kitchen?
Many, many times over a lifetime,
carefully rationing the hot water from
a five gallon tank heated by her oil stove.
That memory is bittersweet, because
Grammie's house is coming down in 2016.

Looking Out Grammie's Kitchen Window

The Christmas cake ~ a fruit cake!
Does anyone bake them anymore?
I haven't made one in years.
For the sake of family peace,
we usually made two.

My Nana MacBeath and her sister Maude Cox,
squabbled for decades over whose fruitcake was best,
Nana's light fruitcake or Aunt Maude's dark one.

I loved both, but in my mind,
Aunt Maude's edged Nana's out.
It was stuffed with dark raisins, tiny currants,
fat sticky muscats, and exotic dates and figs
mixed into a rich batter with strawberry jam and molasses
and fragrant with cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves.

Guaranteed Mom sent Dad Nana's light fruitcake
loaded with golden sultanas, lemon and orange citron,
and jewellike red and green glace cherries,
and flavored with sweet-smelling almond extract.

Dad loved his mother's fruitcake,
but he was very close to his Aunt Maude,
so Mom was up to her elbows in fruit and batter
for a good two days each Christmas season.

Nana and Her Siblings

Maude (back), Belle, Myrtle, and Chester

St. Peter's Bay, P.E.I.

Selling those Christmas cards was my first paying job!
At ten, I longed to buy Christmas presents for my family,
and if I wanted to do that, I had to earn money.

I don't remember how I found the Christmas card company,
but I sold enough of its cards in Smith's Cove
to make a little over $5.00.
I spent every cent of it in Kinsman's General Store, located
halfway between my grandmother's and great-grandmother's homes.

I remember searching the shelves of that tiny rural store
looking for gifts I could afford, and I found them:
Yardley English Lavender Bath Salts for Nana,
a book of lifesavers for Roy, barley candy toys for my sisters,
a small box of chocolate Turtles for my mom,
several Cherry Blossoms for my dad,
and best of all, a tiny baby doll for little Bertie.

I learned then that there is nothing better
on Christmas morning than watching loved ones
unwrapping presents that you've gotten for them.

Flickr: wackystuff license

Cherry Blossoms
Wikipedia

As for that path not taken?
I can't sing.
I can't dance.
I can't play an instrument.
And yet time and time again,
I was encouraged to study music.

From my fifth grade teacher giving me a music book
to a placement advisor at Cal State Fullerton
calling me to come in and talk.
"Why on Earth are you enrolled in geology courses?
You have the highest scores I've ever seen for music?"

Too bad the tests measured aptitude
and not talent or skills.

I often wonder, though.
I had had a similar meeting at Acadia,
eleven years earlier, in a different country,
on the other side of the continent.

That was our November so long ago,
as we waited for the ice to thicken in the North
so a bush plane could land in Lansdowne House
and start letters from Dad on their long journey to us.

And how about you, kind reader?
Did you have fruitcake battles in your family?
Do you remember your first paying job?
Did you have a path you didn't take,
that you often wonder about?
I'd love to hear!

Links to Earlier Posts:

TLL: Hints of a Troubled Future

TLL:The Howling of Dogs

Notes:
1. My Grandmother's House nearly passed out of our family's hands
some twenty years ago. My sister Bertie and her husband Peter managed to save it,
and because of them we all got to enjoy it many more years.
But the day we all knew would come has arrived.
Thanks Bertie and Peter for never once giving me a hard time over
of calling it "Grammie's house" when, in fact, it was yours!
And thanks for all the extra years of memories.

The Back of My Grandmother's House,
aka Peter and Bertie's House

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Wikimedia

Location of Nova Scotia in Canada
Wikimedia

Location of Digby in Nova Scotia
Wikimedia

Location of Smith's Cove
on the Annapolis Basin between Digby (left) and Annapolis Royal (right)
It was about 6 miles or 9.7 kilometers from the Cove to Digby.
Birch Villa Cottages Smith's Cove

Books Read in 2026

"18 Days in Heaven" by Gale Poirot
"A Serial Killer's Daughter: My Story of Hope, Love, and Overcoming" by Kerrie Rawson
"Eat Your Ice Cream: Six Simple Rules for a Long and Healthy Life" by Ezekiel J. Emanuel, MD.
"Is Math Real? How Simple Questions Lead Us to Mathematics Deepest Truths" by Eugenia Cheng
"Project Hail Mary" by Andy Weir
"Tell Me Everything" by Elizabeth Strout
"The Covenant of Water" by Abraham Verghese
"The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity" by David Graeber and David Wengrow
"The Life Impossible" by Matthew Haig
"The Lord go the Rings" by JRR Tolkien
"The Match" by Harlan Corben
"The Night the Path Disappeared" by Terri Bergen
"The Notebook: A History of Thinking on Paper" by Roland Allen
"Theo of Golden" by Allen Levi
"Think Twice" by Harlan Corben
"Why Christianity Must Change Or Die" by John Shelby Spong

Standing Into Danger

Pages

Friday, January 29, 2016

Still Absent

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Where in the World Is Fundy Blue?

Friday, January 8, 2016

The Lansdowne Letters: Dad Makes a Life-Changing Decision

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

IWSG: Wednesday, January 6, 2016 ~ Contemplating the Possibilities!

Friday, December 25, 2015

The Lansdowne Letters: Merry Christmas

Monday, December 21, 2015

Monday Morning Music Break: First Edition and Computers !@#$%^ Argh!

Friday, December 18, 2015

The Lansdowne Letters: Bittersweet

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