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God Bless Our Leader Dogs

God Bless Our Leader Dogs

Marking the 31st Anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA)

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                Thirty-one years ago, when the Americans with Disabilities Act was signed by President George H. W. Bush on July 26, 1990, I had moved to Kalamazoo, Michigan, with my first Leader Dog Keller.  Before the onset of the fall semester, Keller and I were learning the walking routes around the campus of Western Michigan University, from where I earned my second master’s degree one year later. 

This year on the afternoon of July 26 (Monday), I gathered with a committee of ten authors who are blind.  Each of these interesting and creative authors has written  and published or self-published one to five books of various genres and styles.  I thought this gathering was a superb way to commemorate the thirty-first anniversary of the ADA.

                To celebrate this anniversary with song, I took the liberty of modifying the lyrics of “God Bless America,” whose original lyrics were written by Irving Berlin in 1918; as you most likely will recall, Mr. Berlin also composed the music for this patriotic song during World War I.  On November 10, 1938–in commemoration of Armistice Day–Irving Berlin released a revised version of “God Bless America.”  All revenues from this release were donated to the Boy Scouts of America and the Girl Scouts of America.  The 1938 version was the one made famous by singer Kate Smith.  With all due respect to the memories and talents of Mr. Berlin and Ms. Smith, I share with you the following lyrics which I modified to celebrate the special day that is July 26, to honor my current Leader Dog Willow, and to honor the memories of my prior Leader Dogs (Zoe, Heather, and Keller) with a prayer you can sing.

* * *

God Bless Our Leader Dogs

(Sing to the tune of “God Bless America”)

lyrics modified by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

God bless our Leader Dogs–

Guides that we love!

Stand beside us, and guide us

With a leash, harness, grace, and great work.

From the suburbs to the cities,

To the sidewalks white with snow–

God bless our Leader Dogs

Who guide us home.

God bless our Leader Dogs

Where’er we roam.

* * *

Blessings to all!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

July 28, 2021, Wednesday

Upside-down Abecedarian of Summer

NOTE:  Before reading the following poem, notice only the first letter of each of the 26 poetic lines:  you will find the alphabet in reverse order. 

An Upside-down Abecedarian of Summer

poem by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

Zinnias bloom and remind me of my grandmother’s garden. 

Yellow marigolds stand with perfect posture in porch planters.

X marks the spot for hiding a summer treasure.

Willow guides me along the sidewalk of the shaded side of the street.

Velvet nights bring out the dancing light of fireflies.

Under the summer Moon, find a midnight gardener.

Toes that dipped into the cool water leave impressions in the moist sand.

Swim and stroke the water of a blue pool.

Raise “Old Glory” into a warm and gentle breeze.

Quiet the cicadas with the closing of a window.

Pickle what needs to be pickled; preserve what needs to be preserved of summer.

Oars of a canoe stay only briefly idle to allow for our listening  to Mother Nature.

National Parks welcome vacationers.

Malted milk and other ice cream treats keep us cool.

Lakes with water skiers and boaters are photographed.

Kitchens clos on the hottest days; outdoor grills open.

Journeys far and journeys near bring forth new and relaxing vistas.

Indiana roads take us home to memories and friends.

Herbs–basil, rosemary, sage, and spearmint–add fragrance to my garden.

Gifts of gardening are savoured and shared.

Family gathers around a picnic table or on the front porch.

Elegant geraniums grace my container garden.

Drinks of lemonade and iced mint tea await visitors.

Croquet wickets, posts, mallets, and balls lie ready for players.

Bocce, badminton, and baseball offer more fun for the season.

All is warmly well with our little part of the world:  let’s thoroughly enjoy summer.

* * *

Summery, best wishes!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

July 21, 2021, Wednesday

The Un-air-conditioned Life

My Dad and Maple Trees around an Un-air-conditioned House

By Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                After all of the unusually hot weather of June and early July (with a high temperature of 95 yesterday), I often wonder how I never seemed to mind the heat and humidity of our Hoosier homeland when I was young.  How spoiled I am by air conditioning these days!  With the memories of our Blanford home in the summertime and my dad whose anniversary of his birth will be this Sunday (July 11), I am sharing with you the following poem to honor my dad on the 108th anniversary of his birth and to give you a glimpse into small-town living.

* * *

Majestic Maples for Keeping Cool before AC

Family-history Poem by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

(Dedicated in loving memory of my dad

who took such great care of our home, yard, gardens, field, woods, pets, and family–

July 11, 1913-December 1, 1997)

Five decades before air conditioning was common,

my maternal grandfather planted soft maples

all around the house

which became our forever home.

Long after my Italian grandfather had passed,

his tall and well-canopied trees

gave us shade–

a cooler dwelling, porch, and yard

on the hottest of Hoosier days.

The maple on the east side of our home

towered over the wooden picnic table

and the yard where we waved

the badminton rackets through humid Hoosier air,

where we planted wickets and colorful poles

for an evening’s game of croquet,

where we played on the silver-painted swing set,

where we played with our beautiful puppies and dogs,

where we gathered with family and friends

to share an unnoticeably hot summer.

Another large maple

bent gracefully over the curve in our white-rock driveway–

as if the southwest wind had sculpted the tree’s form.

This tree shaded the bedroom

which I shared with my sister

in the home with no air-conditioning,

our big back porch that became a family room,

our blueish-green water pump,

red Fords that were parked on the J-shaped driveway,

and part of our west field that later became a yard.

Of the trees on the north side of our home,

the grandest one

had a limb that held

a sturdy rope and a circular swing

that allowed me to cool off and dream.

This family historic maple

generously gave cooling shade to our front yard,

sidewalk, and our beloved front porch

where we sat with my cherished dad

on the wooden, Melodious swing.

Neighbors, company from near and far

joined us on this refreshing porch

that was framed with one evergreen and four spirea bushes

over which we jumped onto the soft, cool grass

to run and try to catch lightning bugs

that made the Indiana evening of summer sparkle–

not with complaints of being too hot,

but with small-town life

that, nurtured by those majestic maples,

led to the pleasantly warm,

un-air-conditioned poetic paths of my life.

* * *

Stay cool, and enjoy your journey into July, 2021!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

July 7, 2021, Wednesday

Thank you and Happy 245th Birthday, America!

Thank You, America!

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

Thank you, America,

for welcoming to your eastern shore,

in the early 1900s,

four immigrants from Italy–

later to become

the parents of my parents

and good citizens of the adopted,

the chosen country–


Thank you, Lady Liberty,

for holding high your torch

to light the way

to Ellis Island,

where my grandparents’ dreams

first met  land of the USA.

Thank you, Indiana,

for giving my paternal grandparents

some of your precious farmland–

a grape arbor, too.

Thank you, Indiana,

for allowing my maternal grandparents

to build a grocery store and Italian bakery

in your Vermillion County.

Thank you, Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini,

for blessing these four immigrants

from Italy to Indiana,

with a safe voyage,

with seven sons

and five daughters,

with eighteen grandchildren–

all of whom went on to do well

in this new home of our immigrant forefathers.

From the banks of the Wabash

to the shores of Lake Michigan,

from the foothills of the Rockies to Disneyland,

from the shores of the Atlantic to the Pacific Northwest–

all the relatives

of those first four immigrants

of our family tree

wink at you, Lady Liberty,

and wave our thanks

in red, white, and blue wishes

for a Happy Fourth of July!

* * *

NOTE:  Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini is one of the patron saints of immigrants.

Best wishes to you and your family

for a safe, sunny, and very Happy Fourth of July!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

June 30, 2021, Wednesday

Musical Chairs of Container Gardening

The Musical Chairs of Container Gardening

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                One of the great advantages of a container garden is periodically being able to re-arrange the containers.  As I move the fifteen to seventeen containers of my little garden, I compare this enjoyable summertime activity to Musical Chairs.  Do you remember the game Musical Chairs which we used to play at birthday parties or other childhood parties?  Well, my weight-lifting exercise of the summer is lifting and moving the containers of my garden.

Each warm season, I like to add something new to my little garden.  This year, the “something new” is a container of zinnias which I started from seed–right before the cold snap of May.  Although the sprouting took a bit longer than expected, the zinnias have quickly grown and thickened to be strong plants.  How eager I am for the blooms to remind me of my maternal grandmother’s zinnia garden–located to the side of her large building which once housed the grocery store, Italian bakery, dance hall, and residence.  Yes, her garden to the east and the west of the water pump contained only an abundance of two varieties of zinnias in the colors of yellow-gold, autumnal orange and magenta.  The border of her zinnia garden was made with Clinton (Indiana) bricks placed upright at a diagonal.  Somewhere in my mind’s photo album, I keep a picture of my grandmother, with her long hair braided into a bun at the nape of her neck, wearing her typical black-and-white dress to mid-calf, bending over to tend to her zinnias in my hometown of Blanford, Indiana.  Thus, I thought the time had come for my planting zinnias.  Only one problem!  The lovely leaves make me itch!  Oh, well, I hope the zinnias will thrive in my “Musical-Chairs Garden.”

                Currently, near my front stoop is only one container of coral pink geraniums.  The front of my townhouse faces west and has been getting full, very hot sun many days of recent weeks.  In my garden behind my townhouse, joining the zinnias are more coral geraniums, white geraniums, and pink geraniums.  In the herb department, I have a Genovese basil and another basil plant, along with two rosemary plants, a sage plant, and a spearmint plant.  On Mother’s Day weekend, I began my garden with one container of lavender which is a lush and lovely plant.  How I do enjoy the fragrances of my garden–especially after watering or after a rare rain this season!  Although my pink tulips, purple hyacinths, and mini daffodils are no longer playing “Musical Chairs” in my garden, my little peacock container still sprightly sits atop the ledge of my deck on the east side to hold onto the silk flowers that survived the winter snows. 

                On the café table, between a coral geranium and a rosemary plant is my “Garden-ian Angel.”  My new sculpture addition to my garden this year is a statue of Saint Francis of Assisi.  As is typical, the Saint Francis statue has a fawn near the saint’s left knee, a bird on his left shoulder, and a bird in his right hand; the left hand of Saint Francis is open upward.  Recently, Saint Francis is between a white geranium and a basil plant.  He rests upon one of the end tables beside my bench.  The first day I placed the statue, my Leader Dog Willow placed her head upon the table at the foot of the statue.  Almost each day, Willow still walks over to the statue of Saint Francis–just as if she knows that Saint Francis is the patron saint of animals, the environment, and Italy.

                Thanks to Facetime, I have given garden tours to my sister in Colorado and to my aunt in Minnesota.  I do relish a great deal of conversational mileage from such a little garden and look forward to more Face time garden tours of my “Musical-Chairs Garden.” 

                Willow and I thoroughly enjoy our little garden, and we hope that you also have a garden to tend and enjoy this summer.

Best wishes for a happy gardening summer!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

June 23, 2021, Wednesday

Happy Father’s Day, 2021!

Swimming Lessons and Other Life Lessons

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

NOTE:  Since today, June 20, 2021, is Father’s Day, I dedicate this blog post in loving memory of my dad–James F. Massa (July 11, 1913-December 1, 1997).  Additionally, since this pre-summer of 2021 has been so extremely hot in so many states of the USA, I pulled from WORDWALK 2015 archives a blog post about swimming and my remarkable dad.

* * *

            In the summers of my youth, the Aragon Swimming Pool was a prime attraction.  Located on the north end of Clinton, Indiana, and approximately seven miles from my home in Blanford–the Aragon included an especially large pool, two three-foot diving boards, one ten-foot diving board, a children’s swimming (or wading) pool, two areas for sun bathing (before the days of sunscreen as we know of its importance  today), two concession areas, a trampoline area (which I especially liked), dressing areas, and a ballroom (where my junior class held the Clinton High School Junior-Senior Prom–“Whispers of the Orient” in May of 1967).  Between the parking area and the entrance to the Aragon was a pleasant park with picnic tables, some playground equipment, a shelter with more picnic tables, and a miniature golf course.  Throughout the years that I went to the Aragon, it was owned by the Tony Fenoglio family, of Clinton. 

            While I first started enjoying the Aragon in the mid 1950s, my dad’s association with this huge swimming pool began around 1927 or 1928  when he was employed as a life guard there at age fourteen to fifteen.  A few times, he told me the story of one of his job duties of swimming around the massive pool with a bucket in hand to disperse the chemicals into the water.  Of course, my dad was always a strong swimmer. 

            Somewhat surprisingly, when my father was stationed in California before deploying to Europe during World War II, he met the famous Olympic swimmer (who won five Olympic gold medals from 1924-28) Johnny Weissmuller at the Brown Derby.  When Dad met Mr. Weissmuller in 1941, the MGM and RKO star was at the height of his fame in the Tarzan movies.  As was typical in those days, Mr. Weissmuller bought my dad, who was dressed in his Army uniform, a drink. 

            Within five years after my dad returned to civilian life and his wife in Indiana, my sister and I completed our family.  When my sister and I arrived at the appropriate age for taking swimming lessons, we went to the Aragon for the very early morning Red Cross swimming lessons.  In such a large swimming pool in west-central Indiana, in June, the water had an initial chill.  Not only was I not happy about the cool water, I did not care for my instructor and her method of teaching.  The experience was not a successful one:  I was not progressing toward the goal of being a swimmer.  The trust which I did not have with the swimming instructor was easily and naturally bestowed upon my dad.  I can distinctly remember my “riding piggyback” on my dad while he swam through not the shallow end nor the very deep end of the pool, but in the area of medium depth, nearer the south side of the pool.  Besides swimming with me on his back, my dad periodically dived under water, but managed to keep my head above the water level.  Oh, how I did trust him–like no other person!  How I did quickly learn to love the water!  Then, my father taught me how to swim.  Although these lessons from my father were almost six decades ago, I recall these special times so clearly and am grateful for the many lessons my dad directly and indirectly taught me. 

            For many years, after an afternoon of swimming, my sister and I, at the concession near the entrance/exit of the Aragon, enjoyed a chocolate-dipped ice cream cone or freshly-popped popcorn sold in tempting cones made of wax paper in a myriad of bright colors.  During our pre-teen and teenage years, the Aragon was a wonderful place to go with friends.

            Fortunately, both my father and mother enjoyed traveling; so, each summer, our family enjoyed at least one road trip.  During the hours of being in the car, I happily anticipated being able to swim at the motel where we would land at the end of the day of driving.  While we toured 38 states of the USA, historical sites, museums, famous houses, and parks–swimming was always a special treat of our vacations.  Nevertheless, I have never swum in another swimming pool that was even near the size of the Aragon.  How fortunate Southern Vermillion County was to have such a swimming pool!  My parents and others of their generation sometimes referred to the Aragon as “Happyland”–undoubtedly, the name of the place before the attraction was dubbed the Aragon. 

With the trust and love I had for my dad, my childhood was a “Happy Land.”  Much of what I am today is thanks to the life lessons which my dad so gently and lovingly gave to me.  I only wish I had more of his positive outlook, his ability to see only the good in other people, his easy smile, and his twinkling eyes.  From Earth to Heaven, “Thanks and love always, Dad; Happy Father’s Day!”

Happy swimming and summer vacations!

Happy Father’s Day!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

June 20, 2021, Sunday

American Flag Memories for June 14

Ready to Raise the Red-White-and-Blue on Flag Day

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                As we prepare to raise the “Red-White-and-Blue” on June 14–Flag Day–I am recollecting memorable USA flags that have waved throughout my life.  The first American flags which I recall were in each classroom and in the auditorium, as well as hoisted atop an outdoor flagpole at Jacksonville Grade School, in my hometown of Blanford, Indiana.  Next, I picture in my mind the flags which were carried during the parades which I enjoyed as a child.

                At the northwest corner outside the Blanford Post Office was another flagpole which I distinctly remember.  From 1955, when my mother became postmaster of this small-town post office, throughout the next twenty-eight years, my mother was proud to fly the American flag six days a week.  After school or during summer vacations, I was always pleased to be given the opportunity to either hoist or take down the flag at our post office.  At times, my friend Michael did this duty in my absence.  When I became a Girl Scout, I was very pleased to learn the proper way to fold the flag and was proud to fold the flag for its “rest” at the post office after closing hour.

                In the 1960s, during a summer vacation of historical sites in the East, my parents, my older sister, and I toured the Betsy Ross House in the historical district of Philadelphia.  This tour was the first time I experienced a “Row House.”  Ascending the flights of old wooden stairs to tour the four levels of the Betsy Ross House was exciting.  At that time, we still thought unquestionably that Betsy Ross did sew the first flag–the thirteen-star flag–in that house on Arch Street.  Now, historians have other opinions about the Betsy Ross flag and even the house’s origin.  Nevertheless, I certainly enjoyed visiting this area of Philadelphia and feeling connected with the first flag of the USA.

                A decade or so after our tour of the Betsy Ross Home, Dad heard of the availability of a very tall flagpole, brought it home, painted the flagpole, and managed somehow to place the flagpole firmly in the ground.  Flanked by two evergreens to the north and a Colorado Blue Spruce to the east, with magenta sweet peas climbing the fence between the trees–the flag waving on this pole in the northeast corner of our east lawn made a beautifully patriotic sight and photograph against a blue Hoosier sky with a few puffy, white clouds.  When my sister and I had to sell our Blanford home, the Blue Spruce and flagpole were still standing for another family to enjoy.

                In the late 1980s, Lee Greenwood performed in concert at North Vermillion High School (Indiana).  “God Bless the USA” had been released in January of 1984.  My parents, friend Retha, and I were part of the audience that packed into the NVHS gymnasium.  As Lee Greenwood sang “God Bless the USA,” each member of the North Vermillion High School Marching Band paraded into and around the gym; and most importantly, each band member carried a large American flag.  This part of the concert was a surprise for most people in the audience:  the moment was a breathtaking one that brought tears to many eyes.  As Lee Greenwood continued to sing “God Bless the USA” and the flags swirled around the perimeter of the gymnasium, the atmosphere was energized.  What an American flag moment to remember!

                For a long time, I have kept three US flags in my front window to honor the service of my younger nephew and two cousins in the Army, Navy, and Air Force.

                Three of my relatives were born on Flag Day:  cousins Kenny and Andrea, as well as my soon-to-be eight-year-old great-niece Lanie.  On the eve of Flag Day, our extended family will gather via Zoom for another virtual family reunion.  On Zoom cameras, the children will be waving the paper flags which they colored for our event.

                Of all the flags in my memory, the one that I most cherish is the one that is kept in a tight, neat trifold–the one that was draped over my dad’s coffin.  This beautifully made flag has thickly embroidered stars. One of those outstanding stars represents my Indiana, and this special flag brings forth warm and loving memories of my father who was proud to fly the flag of his country.

                On this Flag Day of 2021, I hope that we will enjoy seeing displayed many flags of the United States of America.

Happy Flag Day!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

June 9, 2021, Wednesday

American Flag Memories for June 14

American Flag Memories on Flag Day

Final Graduates of Jacksonville Grade School: The Class of 1961

Final Graduates of Jacksonville Grade School:  Class of 1961

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

                For the fourth week, WORDWALK continues to honor Jacksonville Grade School on the 60th anniversary of the closing of its doors for the final time in 1961.  The two-story, brick building was the only major structure on the “country” block, in Blanford, Indiana–my hometown.  Before sharing information concerning the final graduating class, I will describe the remaining rooms on the lower level of our school, which had first opened its doors in 1914, the year my mother was born.

                On the north side of the lower level were three rooms.  Across from the first- and second-grade classroom was the nurse’s office.  Of course, the nurse made visits to our school only periodically–probably less than once a month.  I recall the name of only one nurse–Mrs. Lagle, who wore a royal blue nurse’s uniform which had white trim.  I was never especially fond of that northeast corner room–probably because I had once received a vaccine from Dr. Loving while in that room and most likely before entering first grade.  A more pleasant memory associated with the nurse’s room was going there to use an electric cleaner for blackboard erasers.  Being selected by the teacher for this duty was a treat.  The modern invention was much more fun to use than the alternative of manually beating together two erasers and watching the cloud of chalk dust appear.  The teacher always picked two students for the job of cleaning the erasers at the nurse’s office, and we completed the task admirably. 

                Of course, some people would insist that I tell the following anecdote about the nurse’s office!  When I was in the fifth grade, all students were given a tuberculosis test for the first time.  That particular test was only an adhesive patch placed by the nurse onto the back of each student.  After a few girlfriends and I left the nurse’s office, we walked up the two flights of stairs back to our fifth-grade classroom.  As I went to my desk on the far side of the room, I, for the first time in my life, fainted–passed out completely.  While I have no recollection of what happened next, I later was told that Robert J., one of my classmates, shouted, “She’s dead!”  Well, as you can tell from this writing, I did live to tell the tale! 

                Next to the nurse’s room was the furnace room/janitor’s room.  This room included the only exit door on the north side of the building.  Mr. Joe Skorich was the janitor whose name I recall.  Coal was used to heat  the school.

                To the west of the furnace room and across the hall from the third- and fourth-grade classroom was the kitchen–the largest room on the lower level.  The bright and inviting room had long tables spread across the room.  During my school days, this kitchen was only used for fall festivals and other special PTA events.  At one such dinner, I clearly remember our neighbor Clotene Toppas’ arriving into the kitchen with a large pan–about sixteen inches by twenty-four by eight inches–filled with what we called graham-cracker cookies.  Instead of placing two graham crackers together with vanilla or chocolate icing, Mrs. Toppas filled all of the graham-cracker duos with purple icing!  Never before had I seen purple icing!  For whatever reason, the picture of those graham crackers has stuck in my mind’s eye all of these years.

                Besides all of the tables and chairs, the room had a large sink near the northeast corner.  During the years of 1956-61, we had no hot lunches:  students either went home for lunch or took a sack lunch to school.  For two cents, a student could buy either regular milk or chocolate milk.  The milk came in delightful little glass bottles at the top of which was a red-and-white cardboard piece with a tiny pull, under which was a small hole for a paper straw.  The empty glass bottles would eventually be replaced into the wire case for return to the milk company.  Fortunately, before the wire cases were picked up by the milkman, the teacher selected two students to go to the kitchen to wash out the bottles.  I recall doing this chore with my cousin Carole and thoroughly enjoying the task.  What simple pleasures we relished at Jacksonville Grade School!

                Despite this kitchen and the stage described in an earlier May post, the school did not hold a graduation ceremony for the final graduates of Jacksonville Grade School.  Although my class (born in 1950) was always the largest class, my sister’s class (born in 1947) was the smallest, numbering only ten graduates (amidst the total enrollment of eighty-eight).  The JGS Class of 1961 included (in alphabetical order):  Richard Alekna (our down-the-road neighbor), Vickie Allen (my sister’s best friend), Gloria Bapp, Hilda Doran, John Gambaiani, Robert Gibbons, Linda Hudson, Bill Kingery, Mary Elizabeth Massa (Fanyo), and Joyce Paddock.  According to my sister, the eighth-grade graduates–along with their teacher/principal, Mr. William Payton, as well as the three other teachers of our school–went to Clinton, Indiana, (seven miles away) to enjoy a graduation dinner at the Roma Restaurant.  My sister still has the photograph taken of all attendees at the graduation celebration.

                Very sadly, after 1961, our beloved school building which had meant so much to our small rural community rapidly deteriorated and was eventually condemned and torn down.  Once when I walked to the school block, my heart was broken to see the building in such a state of half gone and half still there.  The upright piano slanted precariously in what was the auditorium.  Why had not someone save the old upright piano which had stood alongside the stage with its green curtain?  Why had not the wooden row desks been saved for antiques and memory pieces?  Why had not a little red chair from the reading circle of the first grade been saved as a keepsake?  How grateful I was that my dad did get a brick from Jacksonville Grade School for me, and I saved the brick for almost sixty years.  Wherever I moved, the brick came with me.  Unfortunately, during my move last year, the professional movers lost my brick from Jacksonville Grade School.  I do miss having that brick, but am thankful to still have the commemorative plate of Jacksonville Grade School on my kitchen wall and to have so many fond memories of those wonderful years of learning and sharing with our remarkable teachers and fellow students of our beloved Jacksonville Grade School.

POST-SCRIPT:  This year of 2021, our family is celebrating two eighth-grade graduates–Brando of Oregon and Jayla of Indiana–as well as one college graduate–Emily of Indiana.  Happy Graduation to all three!

Happy June to all of my WORDWALK readers!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

June 2, 2021, Wednesday