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Additional Text for the 08/04/04 Alumni Sandstorm 
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>>From: Patti Jones Ahrens ('60)

Subjects: Pappy, willow trees and other things

Re: Sandstorm entries
    I've giggled and laughed about all the Sandstorm entries
the past three days. Feeling sad at times for the Bombers
who can't jump into the fun. Maybe they are having fun in
their own way. Many times after reading the Sandstorm in the
morning I walk away with thoughts of the day. The new
thoughts pop in when least expected. So and so wrote such
and such. Why does it still stay with me? Then comes a
thought of childhood where a situation happened. I want to
jump on the computer write all about the who's and what
for's. Then the days end comes and I didn't do it. Made
myself a promise not to long ago to take a little more time
once in a while to write the Sandstorm. Then the "Puddlers"
began to form. More fun! In Psychology it's has been known
for a few years that children who are together a lot begin
to form their own language with each other. Married couples
as well as friends do it also. When my friend "Bear" talked
about all his learning about children and language we had
been in our relationship for about six years. Shooting him a
straight look in the eye I said, "We do that". He was
stunned to realize our language between us had formed
without him even knowing it. Lora Homme Page ('60) and I
spent a lot of time with each other at the end of our senior
year and through the summer. Lora's mom would call my house
looking for Lora, when I answered the phone she would think
I was Lora. Then when I let her know it was me she would be
all confused. Easy way out was hand the phone to Lora. Lora
and I to this day would probably walk back into the same
language. Will find out when we see each other at Club 40.
Or are we already doing it through our emails and the
Sandstorm, Lora? "Yahtzee" of course was our most famous
word! Not our own of course but could we yell it in our own
language!
    Another game we all played in our younger years was
"Hide 'n Seek" one of the most well known games to emerge in
history. The past couple of days I feel like the "Hide 'n
Seek" game is being well played. It was definitely fun to
play in Richland even when the ranch house area didn't have
trees, bushes or flowers. Who's house we could hide behind
depended on the neighbors who welcomed children. Not many
didn't but there we're some crotchy old bears at times.
Biggest respect had to go to the night shift workers like
the ones that worked graveyard. We all knew well who they
were. Hopefully the ones hiding now will come out so we can
give them a big hug. I do respect their opinion but there is
no stopping the Bombers as long as the writing is moral 
and honest. For those who have come out, your opinion is
respected. Doesn't mean I have to believe in what you say 
or you have to believe in what I say.

To: Janet Wilgus Beaulieu ('59)
Re: "Not writing the Sandstorm"
    Please stay writing. I for one value what you have said
in the past. All writers to the Sandstorm are fun no matter
what they say or how they say it. The fun is awakening the
imagination or the past of all who want to play in the
Sandstorm sand box. All of the writing makes me feel so
young. For years when I lived in San Jose which I stayed
there for 22 years only to allow my children to be close 
to their father after our divorce. (My children all WB's 
of Richland High School because of our yearly visits to
Richland.) Wakening one day that I was constantly living in
the past to do with Richland because of not liking the San
Jose area decided to put my childhood behind me. Time to 
get into the now. Low and behold I ended up in Western
Washington. Running into another Bomber that I hadn't seen
for years at a Firewalk (keeping her name out for privacy)
after I moved to Western Washington the memories of Richland
started to come forward again. She pointed out to me how
much each time we saw each other at a Firewalk I would talk
about Richland. I let the memories flood forward from then
on. When I first heard about the Sandstorm from Margie
Qualheim Haggard ('60) and her husband Danny Haggard ('57)
whom I ran into at the Red Robin in Richland while visiting.
I was elated. The problem was not having a computer. Fixed
that problem quickly. Now the memories are continuously
alive because of the involvements with the Bombers. Have
found so many more Bombers who had wanted the all class
reunion and get togethers.
     So Janet please keep writing your memories you don't
know who's heart you will touch next. God has blessed us
with these silly machines to find all the old or new Bomber
friends so everyone can jump in use them however they want.
We have the greatest way to the hearts of many. Better than
fifteen chatrooms with people who probably will remain as
strangers.

To: Wally Erickson ('53)
Re: Willow Trees
    Probably knew you and do know you more from your writing
in the Sandstorm. Do know your sister Susan Erickson Kuntz 
('59) very well. We caught up a couple of years back after 
40 some years. What prompted me to write this is your 
mention of Willow tree and tag. I wrote the following story 
about a year ago because of a neighbor's willow tree. The 
picture had been taken about three years before that. 
Picture and willow tree.

WILLOW TREES

As a young girl in Richland, Washington trees were slowly
planted over the years. Richland was a government town that
grew because of World War II. All of the orchards were
cleared for Government homes. Some of the original town was
kept so there were a few big trees. One of those trees was
a Willow tree. The Willow tree quickly became my favorite.
My parents liked to camp, fish, hike and spend our family
time in the outdoors. The trailer was always packed ready to
leave on a week-end. Our travels were all over the State of
Washington. The family also traveled to Koshkonong, Missouri
where my parents were from. Other trips took us to Wyoming,
Colorado, California and many other states. One of the
things I always noticed as we traveled down the road, out in
the middle of fields, usually close to a farmhouse was quite
often a Willow tree.

Even though I rarely was close to a Willow tree I became
fascinated with the times of the year that I was looking at
the Willows and how they changed through the year. On hot
days I would notice the Willow would be a wonderful place to
sit in a swing and cool off with a glass of Lemonade. Many
of the Willows did have swings.

If the wind was breezy it was exciting to watch the Willow
tree sway with the wind. Willow trees always seemed to have
their own ballet going on in my eyes. The families they
seemed to belong to brought to my mind what joy the family
must have with a Willow tree. My imagination could find so
much fun going down the road finding the Willow trees. Over
the years I wasn't ever on a property that was big enough
where I could plant one. I knew I could dance forever in my
imagination if I had one to look at every day. In February
1996 I moved to a lovely little town called Browns Point,
Washington across the water from Tacoma. What made my move
the most exciting, among all the trees I have lived around
in Western Washington, there was my Willow Tree right out 
my big window in the living room in my neighbor's yard.
Privately it became my Willow over the past seven years even
though it belonged to my neighbor. Rarely have I ever talked
about the Willow trees and what they have meant to my
imagination and me. Yet, there are probably many stories I
could tell through my 60 years of life about the Willow
trees I have seen in my life.

I have watched the Willow tree through every season of
change through out the past seven years. When it was baron
in the winter. Springing with leaves in the spring.
Shadowing the grounds around in the warm summer. Then losing
its leaves in the fall heralding winter was to come. The
Willow has reflected any mood that I might have. A few weeks
ago I was napping one afternoon. I was awakened by a loud
noise that sounded like a huge crack sound. Quickly I got up
to check around to see if something was wrong. Looking out
my front window there was more sky than I had ever seen. It
took my breath away when I realized my Willow Tree wasn't
there. The Willow Tree had fallen into the road. There were
people on the road so I walked, with tears in my eyes, to
find out what happened to the beautiful Willow tree. Jerry,
whose property the tree was on was sitting with tears in his
eyes. When I said how much the tree meant to me, Jerry
immediately told the story how his Grandpa had planted the
tree and what it meant to him. I did not ask the age of the
beautiful Willow Tree but I put the age of the tree around
80 years old from listening to Jerry's story. No one knew
exactly what happened to the Willow. The Willow had sheared
off right at the ground and tumbled down into the road.

I went home with tears still in my eyes but immediately
remembered that I had taken quite a few pictures of the
Willow tree. The pictures were easy to find. One of the
pictures is now blown into poster size. Framed in an old
frame hanging in my living room.

The Willow tree will live on in my memory, as well as in
pictures. Thankfully there will be more Willows as I drive
down the road in my many travels of life.

By Patti Ahrens - April 15, 2003

    

To: Jim Andersen ('61)
Re: Bomber "Pappy" George Swan ('59) and John Browne, Jr. ('61)
    You do not seem to include me in your Alumni Sandstorm
statement today. My writing over the past four and half
years to the Sandstorm can be quite long at times. (notice
today's entry). Bomber space has obviously by today's
Sandstorm been taken care of by Maren. Again our webmaster
knows what to edit or not. If you are into short versions of
writing please go read the book "The Game of Life and How 
to Play It" or the "Wisdom of Florence Scovill Shinn" by
Florence Scovill Shinn. She was a truth teach in the 1925
era. It will instantly change your life as it has thousands
before you. This book has been found in Taxis and stranger
places around the world. Thousands of testimonies of how
life became better from reading her words. You can order it
through www.amazon.com. Don't wait. Maybe you will write the
Sandstorm a lengthy entry about good changes in life your
life afterwards or the good things as a Bomber in Richland
after reading it? Just a suggestion. Everyone to their own
opinion.
    You tell George Swan ('59) and John Browne ('61) to get 
a life. They indicate all the time that they have a life
outside of the Sandstorm. Makes it real fun when they 
add their wit in the "Puddles". When's the last time you
laughed? Only for you to answer. I know the Sandstorm
entries make me laugh, cry and wish for more. As a teacher
(do not remember her name) said, as she addressed a group 
of Bombers at the picnic on Sunday of R2K+1. We were all
gathered together some holding hands. "Look around you
because some of these Bombers may not be here next time".
She was indicating death not because they couldn't come.
Life is too precious to limit ourselves to fewer words any
where. 911 has proven that to all of us. Don't forget we are
still in a war against terrorism. I am reminded every day
when I look out at the skies over Commencement Bay watching
the military fly in and out as well as the Coast Guard boats
in the water way. Also makes me know how well protected we
are from the military. I may stand to be corrected here but
at least I am willing to "Stand and Deliver" (quote from
Pappy). Some how I think you have gotten some positive from
all of this.
 
To: All Bombers who see the positiveness in the "Puddle".
Re: Sandstorm entries
    I've even seen some Bombers who haven't written the
Sandstorm much come out to play in the "Puddle". "Pappy" has
definitely brought out the good writing of so many. We are
all "Green and Gold" throughout what we have done in life.
Every time a Bomber writes the fun of "do I know them?" or 
"wish I could meet them" comes forth. Many I have met later 
at Bomber functions. Definitely looking forward to Sunday's
Puget Sound Area Luncheon/Fife with all the Bomber "Babes
and Dudes", Battleground picnic (more Bomber Babes and
Dudes) and Club 40. I'm sure all of the Sandstorm entries
the last few days will bring some interesting conversation.

Bombers Have Fun
-Patti Jones Ahrens ('60) ~ Browns Point, WA ~ Moon has 
                  disappeared into the clouds. 
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