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LAKE WHATCOM
Joan and I still struggled to decide where we should settle. We visited Milwaukee, enjoyed meetings with Joanís family and left feeling sure thatís where we wanted to stay. We carried in our minds images of roast duck at John Enstís, wiener schnitzel at Ray Busslerís, blue-green Lake Michigan, neighborhood taverns, and church bells. It felt like home. But our grandchildren were on the west coast and Joan was not yet ready for the separation which a return to the Midwest would entail.

We decided to remain for a while in Bellingham and arrange to get the young ones to stay with us during the summer. But we had already given notice of our intention to move, so the house search began again. We were lucky. We found a little place on Lake Whatcom, the front porch only twenty feet from the water and our own dock. Ideal. We could see the grandkids out there already. With enthusiasm, we packed, moved from Alabama Hill, and unpacked at the lake.


At left Iím with grandson Richard, Katyís boy. Joan is seated on the stoops of the cabin with our daughter Ellen and her husband John Davis. At right, the other kids: Connie, Katyís girl, reclining; Aaron, Ellen and Johnís son, reclining; and, center stage (as usual) Amorette, their daughter.