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Box 234, Summerland, BC, Canada, V0H 1Z0, Phone (250) 494-3205 Fax (250) 494-3131 Email: email@example.com
Composed by Danny Evanishen in March 2000 and posted soon after.
This year I published the eighth volume in the folk tale collection, entitled 'Carrots to Coins.' There will be more books every year until I expire. I don't think I will ever run out of stories
I also did a book which is a bit of a departure for me, although it is still concerned with Canadian history. David Doyle, a political scientist, wrote 'From the Gallows: The Lost Testimony of Louis Riel,' and I published it.
Ford van sold. Chev van running fine, thank you. VW pickup happy too. Me also happy.
Canada Post has now lost 37 pieces of mail for me. Plus they have screwed up 39 additional pieces of Insured and Express Post mail. I don't know how they do that. I also don't know why they do that.
I wrote to the President of Canada Post and my members of parliament and anyone else who I thought should know about this, and so far, nobody seems to really care. It's my problem, and that's just too bad.
So if you're on the Net, send me an email message. I take my laptop with me wherever I go, and I can get my email from anywhere in the world, so that is the best way to contact me.
Help me get away from relying on the Post Office to send out these newsletters, which cost me more and more every year.
Ethnic Enterprises now has its (my?) own website, where you can see samples of the books I have published. This new site is to help me sell the books, so go look at it and buy a book. Here's the address:
My niece Deanna, who was doing the pictures for my folk tales books, earned her degree in Education, then got a job teaching in San Jose, California. Since the school was going to pay her moving expenses, I immediately offered to become a mover (and a shaker?). My sister Johanne came along for the trip, and the three of us had a great trip down, albeit a quick one. Once Deanna was safely deposited, Johanne and I carried on visiting friends and sightseeing.
Had an interesting thing happen in Oregon, where Johanne and I went to visit my old friend Howard, who lives near Rickreal, not far from Salem. When we got to Rickreal we stopped in at the Post Office to find out where Howard's street address was. Wanted to surprise him. Of course, he wasn't home, so we drove into Amity and called him. He met us in town, and then ran off to do some business while I took Johanne into Portland, where she was going to visit friends. Howard said he would be home soon, and I should just go in and make myself at home.
I drove Johanne to Portland, then went back to Howard's, and he wasn't home yet, so I just went in and made myself at home. I was just about to take a bath, when I heard someone drive up. It was dark, but I knew that the people coming into the house weren't Howard, so I said, "Hey, where's Howard?" The guy said, "Howard doesn't live here; he lives in the trailer across the way."
"Oops," I said. I apologized all over the place, but they were pretty good about it. I think they were laughing by the time I left. Good thing I didn't get shot.
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