Well, no newsletter since May last year. I hope that still some friends are clinging to my mailing list. I wish I had been more energetic but this is how I am. Hopeless :-)
I still receive a lot of queries re the genealogy and I try to solve as much as possible, but I lay behind so if you haven't heard from me, please write me again with your questions. This is all for now, so from me:

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.
"In honor of this holy season," Saint Peter said, "You must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven."
The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. "It represents a candle," he said. "You may pass through the pearly gates," Saint Peter said.
The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells." Saint Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates."
The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's glasses. St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, "And just what do those symbolize?"
The man replied, "They're Carol's."

Merry Christmas again :-)

Strange Christmas tree

One day in early September the chief of a Native American tribe was asked by his tribal elders if the coming winter was going to be cold or mild. The chief asked his medicine man, but he too had lost touch with the reading signs from the natural world around the Great Lakes.
In truth, neither of them had idea about how to predict the coming winter. However, the chief decided to take a modern approach, and the chief rang the National Weather Service in Gaylord Michigan.
'Yes, it is going to be a cold winter,' the meteorological officer told the chief. Consequently, he went back to his tribe and told the men to collect plenty of firewood.
A fortnight later the chief called the Weather Service and asked for an update. 'Are you still forecasting a cold winter?' he asked.
'Yes, very cold', the weather officer told him.
As a result of this brief conversation the chief went back to the tribe and told his people to collect every bit of wood they could find.
A month later the chief called the National Weather Service once more and asked about the coming winter. 'Yes,' he was told, 'it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever.'
'How can you be so sure?' the chief asked.
The weatherman replied: 'Because the Native Americans of the Great Lakes are collecting wood like crazy.'