Dear Folks, I'm sending this message to both the PADUTCH-LIFE and NYNIAGAR-FOLKS lists because I had written to both groups about my freezers overflowing with frozen leftovers and food and trying to figure out the best way to make more room. Because of the wonderful suggestions I received from both groups, I'm lumping them all into one message to let you know that because of the great responses and suggestions, my freezer dilemma is now solved. First of all you won't believe this but I woke up in the middle of the night last night and couldn't go back to sleep trying to figure out the best way to go about defrosting my chest freezer. There were two things on my mind. (1) the two wire baskets hanging from the top ledge of my freezer were frozen solid with the built-up frost and (2) if I could manage to fish out the old food stored below them in the bottom of the freezer, my freezer would end up half empty and the freezer would have to work overtime to keep it at the proper temperature. After I read all of the suggestions today regarding thawing out the freezer and how to keep what's stored in there frozen well enough to get the thawing job done, I'm happy to say I'm one happy camper right now. By the time my brain kicked in this morning (OK, so it was this afternoon!), I started trying to fish out the stuff stored underneath the frozen hanging wire baskets. I used the longest kitchen instrument I had--a long-handled cooking fork--and succeeded very nicely, thank you, in fishing out the space under the one basket. But it was a more difficult job to reach all the way to the far left of the freezer. But with diligence, I was pleased that I was succeeding. That is until I lost my grip on the fork and it disappeared into the bottom of the freezer. I had nothing long enough to fish the fork out until I checked around the house and found a long metal shelving strip which at least gave me the fork back. After I knew that I could then empty the rest of the frozen food out of the freezer and keep it well enough frozen, I rethought the whole process of my defrosting it. Why bother? The freezer has been working just fine ever since I bought it in Aug. 1979, and if I just bagged up all of the old frozen stuff I was planning to throw into the trash and put it all back into the bottom of the freezer, it would help keep the freezer from working overtime. Not only that, but someone actually mentioned that they're now selling frost-free freezers and with any luck, my old freezer will give up the ghost before I do and I can buy a new-fangled frost-free one. So now all of the old stuff is bundled up in plastic grocery bags and tucked neatly underneath the frozen-stuck wire baskets. In fact, I was even inspired to take a clean rag, run it under hot water and clean up the icky bits of food and stuff that had fallen out of bags and containers. But you know me. I'm long-winded and I have to tell you what I discovered hidden in the bottom of the freezer for years and years. First of all there were several plastic bags with fresh frozen Concord grapes that had been picked from the (now) old vineyard in my "back 40" years ago. That didn't really surprise me but then there were two 1-quart plastic containers which appeared to contain more Concord grapes of sorts. One contained only the grape skins and the other contained the pulp and seeds. That's when it all came back to me. The reason for them was that many years ago I had made up jars of Grape Conserve and found it so delicious that I wanted to make more of it and so at least I got a start on it. I can still taste how delicious it was (sigh!). Another treasure trove were a number of coffee cans filled with stone-ground whole wheat flour. Frankly I forget what I had planned to prepare with that but I'm sure it would have been nutritious. But after I checked out the contents of all the coffee cans and came to another canister that I figured contained the same thing, I was flabbergasted. It was filled with a plastic bag of ground coffee and I had made certain at the time to include enough of the cardboard box it originally came in so that I would know what it was. But that still didn't trigger any memory of mine. You see, the coffee was labeled Cafe Sello Dorado, Calidad Excelso, produced/fabricated in Bogotá, Colombia, South America. In other words Colombian Coffee right from the source. I've been trying so hard to recall my ever buying it but the only conclusion was that on the return from my Amazon Adventure in 1973, I just had to buy a pound(?) of it to take home with me. I had never tasted such delicious coffee in my life while I was in Bogotá and I guess somehow I found room for it in my heavy luggage. But I guess when I got it home I was too chicken to try to brew up a cup of it and so I froze it all. But let me tell you, that canister of coffee did NOT get bagged up with the other old stuff in the bottom of my freezer. If nothing else, one of these days I might run short of my usual supply of coffee and I'll get up the courage to taste test it over 30 years later. You never know what memories you'll dig up by cleaning out your freezer! vee

Nancy, I seem to forget about the meat market in Lewiston and I will bet that I can find it there. Another meat market on Military Road in the Town of Niagara is a possibility. Why didn't I think of those places. We will be leaving for Lewiston in about a month so I can check them out. For those who don't like liver, you just don't know what you are missing. Thanks Nancy! Barbara

Vee The way to quickly defrost the freezer is to run a garden hose to it and flush away the ice and whatever. If the freezer does not have a drain, bail with a pan of an appropriate size. Wipe up with some towels. We do this about once a year. Two hours max. We do have a drain that we connect another hose to. We remove the contents and cover with a blanket out of the way. Bob AZ

Vee: You remind me of how I used to thaw my freezer. I used to get several pans of boiling water and set them in the freezer. One time I decided to try something new and I used my blowdryer. It took forever, and needless to say there was the risk of electrocution, so I stopped that practice! I don't think there is ever a fast way to defrost a freezer! One time I decided to try to defrost it overnight so I took out everything, put stuff in a cooler, stuck that outside, it was winter at the time, and by the time I got up the next day, my freezer was defrosted. Of course, now I have a frostless freezer, so I don't have to worry about defrosting my freezer now! Another kitchen chore I detest is cleaning the oven after all your delicious culenary delights. I hate the fumes from those oven cleaners, so at night before I go to bed, I turn on the oven on the lowest setting, spray the oven with oven cleaner, and presto, a clean oven the next morning, all you have to do is wipe it out. I've found that as I've gotten older, I opt for the easiest way out of doing something. Another unpleasant task is cleaning the litter box. I decided with some of our tax return money to buy one of those littermaid litterboxes, those kind that automatically rake the litter. It's paid for itself time and time again! Kim

Vee, I don't think you are headed for a support group just yet. Recipe collecting, marathon cooking, freezer defrosting (my parents' chest freezer is a similar case) -- all this sounds healthy! Good for you for tackling it. And isn't it a rite of Spring? I myself am staying home today to really clean my house (oh, yes... my wonderful mother-in-law and family are coming Friday to celebrate my husband's 50th birthday, so I get no points for housewifery!). Defrosting a freezer is a clear sign of virtue, though. Good luck and don't forget to rinse with baking soda water. Mary Hess

Dear Folks, As you know, recently I've been babbling on and on about my recent cooking urge, recipes and the fact that both my refrigerator freezer and my chest freezer are now filled to overflowing with the leftovers. Several of you have suggested that I invite one or two friends over for dinner or, in fact, our whole gang for a virtual feast! Although that's really tempting, I'm not one to give up while there's still hope for me yet. Today I figured out that my problem wasn't with the volume of the leftovers I've recently stored in my freezers, it was the freezer space that I was lacking. So this evening I was determined to do something drastic with the chest freezer. None of you want me to give you slightest hint of what has been stored in there or for how many years. Just be content with knowing that I don't have a clue what some of it is or who how long it's been in there. OK, let me give you a hint. This evening I decided to get rid of the "unknowns" and was surprised to find an entire Gingerbread (or Anise) cake that was brought back from Switzerland in ca 1987. On top of it in piped icing was the red cross on a white background, the symbol of the Swiss Canton of Solothurn and the wording on it was "Gruss aus Bettlach" (loosely translated as "Greetings from Bettlach"--a small village there). As a result of my initial efforts to cull out what used to be perfectly good food, I've already filled two plastic grocery bags with the items and they'll be hauled out to the curb come trash day. But I didn't want to stop there; I wanted to clear out the entire chest freezer. However, I had a problem. It's been so many years since I've defrosted the freezer, I couldn't remove the wire baskets because of the frost buildup. Therefore, the only solution was for me to remove all of the frozen food in the freezer that I could reach, store it all in my refrigerator, unplug the freezer, let it thaw out on its own with the lid up, tomorrow afternoon clean out the remaining food in the very bottom (again I don't have a clue what's down there), sop up the ice water, scrub down the insides and put everything that's fit to be kept back in it. However, comma, I don't have the room in my refrigerator to even begin to stuff everything in there. But maybe tomorrow I'll do what I used to do back in the olden days when I used to periodically thaw my chest freezer out. Store as much as I could in the refrigerator and wrap the rest of it in several thicknesses of newspaper as insulation. Then I would put the tea kettle on to boil and pour the hot water into pans and set them on the bottom of the freezer to help thaw it out. It was an almost all-day project but when the freezer was fresh and clean and plugged in again enough to cool down sufficiently and all of the frozen food put back in it, it was a satisfying job well done. But I have two problems with all of the above. (1) Where do I find the energy? and (2) with all the old stuff removed from the bottom of the freezer, will my freezer then have to run overtime to keep what's left in it at 0 degrees or less? In fact, regarding (1) above, wherever did I find all the energy to start such a project this evening in the first place? I guess I'm still obsessed with cooking and if this sort of thing continues, I may need professional help. Is there such an organization as CA (Cooks Anonymous)? "Hello, my name is Vee and I'm a cook-aholic!" vee

Dear Susanne, I was still a young teenager during those years and didn't graduate from Niagara Falls High School until 1949. I didn't join the Navy until 1953. I sure wish I could have been of some help. vee ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, April 11, 2004 8:13 PM Subject: [FOLKS] Navy Supply Depot Oakland Calif > Vee > > This is a long shot: I have been helping my cousin with her family > history. Her half-brother died last fall and she just got his military papers that > were file with the county clerk. > > He was in the service from July 1944 to Aug 1946. Looks like he spent his > time in the USNS at the Navy Supply Depot, Oakland Calif, as a Storekeeper Third > Class. His name was: Wilbur C. Anderberg. > > Were you stationed at this location during that time period? As a long shot, > did you know him, if you were there? > > Susanne > >

Vee This is a long shot: I have been helping my cousin with her family history. Her half-brother died last fall and she just got his military papers that were file with the county clerk. He was in the service from July 1944 to Aug 1946. Looks like he spent his time in the USNS at the Navy Supply Depot, Oakland Calif, as a Storekeeper Third Class. His name was: Wilbur C. Anderberg. Were you stationed at this location during that time period? As a long shot, did you know him, if you were there? Susanne

HI Vee - I know the sound you are referring to very well. I spent a week one spring, assuming someone was playing tricks on me. Someone would bang on the back of the house, and be gone by the time I got to the back door. Finally, one day, I put on my shoes and ran around to the back of the house... there are fields behind my house, they couldn't get out of sight before I caught them. Nobody there. As I walked back I looked up. There were 6 flickers in a row, going after something in the wood of the house! Flickers are pretty big.. and stubborn. I tried yelling at them, throwing stones... nothing stopped them, until they got whatever they were after. They've never been back, except at the bird feeder, thank goodness! Kathy

Dear Folks, Yesterday afternoon I was in the kitchen when I heard the strangest sound. It sounded like someone was using a pneumatic drill in the distance. However, in reality it sounded much closer than that as if they were using a huge muffler on it. The sound continued, rat a tat a tat in rapid succession. It was then that I had to smile. I recognized what it was. The first time I heard it was back in the spring of 1983 over 20 years ago. I was in the Navy at the time and one early morning I heard the same terrible racket (it was louder at that time), it sounded like someone was using a hammer on my stove pipe that sticks above my roof top but I didn't have time to go outside and investigate it. I was one of the Department Heads at our district headquarters and the first thing every morning we had a Dept. Heads meeting with the Executive Officer (XO). All of us were always on time but the XO was invariably late. As a result I told those of us sitting around the conference table about the strange sound that morning. None of us could figure out what might have caused it. The next morning the same thing happened. Rat a tat a tat! I just HAD to dash outside and see what I could see. And I was just in time to see a woodpecker flying away from my shiny chrome/steel stove pipe! I was flabbergasted. Just what did he think he was doing? That morning I again reported on the situation at the Dept. Heads meeting and we were all puzzled at such strange behavior. This went on for a few more days and one morning when the XO arrived at the meeting (in a good humor for a change, I might add), she asked what our discussion was all about. I replied that I was giving them my report of the morning's Bird Watch. She actually smiled when I explained the situation to her. The only conclusion that we eventually came up with was that (1) it was spring and mating season, (2) the woodpecker was intrigued with his reflection in the stove pipe and (3) he figured another woodpecker was invading his territory. Well, this evening after I had just taken my Swiss Steak out of the hot oven, I heard the rat a tat a tat again and I figured that this time the woodpecker had completely lost his mind. The heat of the oven certainly must have heated up the stove pipe to the point where he not only had a bent beak but blisters on his feet. In retrospect, however, this is how I now assess the situation. A number of years ago I had a second bathroom installed on the second floor of my house and as a consequence there's a shiny metal exhaust(?) pipe sticking out of another part of my roof. Since the noise wasn't as terribly loud this time and since I didn't hear any "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" I'm assuming that he was attacking the other shiny pipe. Ah, the wonderful sounds of Spring! :-) vee

Vee << I volunteered and as a result the junior high school provided me with a clarinet and Mr. Hatch the music teacher gave me weekly(?) lessons on how to play the clarinet. Of course he wasn't a professional clarinet player himself; he also taught other students how to play the trumpet, trombone, tuba, saxophone, etc. but I managed to at least get the hang of playing the clarinet.>> Good old Mr Hatch taught me Trumpet lessons. Or rather gave me trumpet lessons. As I remember I went to his house after school on I believe McKoon Avenue. I didn't develop the sweet tones of Harry James or the like either. My siblings also went to Mr Hatch and in the evenings we played at home sometimes. My Mother would accompany us on the piano. Bob AZ

Dear Folks, This evening my mind was on music and it reminded me of when I was barely a teenager in North Junior High School in Niagara Falls, NY, and was given the opportunity to learn how to play the clarinet AND be a member of the junior high school band (complete with uniform!). I volunteered and as a result the junior high school provided me with a clarinet and Mr. Hatch the music teacher gave me weekly(?) lessons on how to play the clarinet. Of course he wasn't a professional clarinet player himself; he also taught other students how to play the trumpet, trombone, tuba, saxophone, etc. but I managed to at least get the hang of playing the clarinet. I was dedicated to improving my technique and I brought my clarinet home with me every day and practiced and practiced. I eventually got the fingering down pretty good but I still squeaked and squawked. I was so disappointed with myself. Eventually in desperation, I asked my mother how Benny Goodman managed to play his clarinet with such pure tones and her only response was "Why don't you write to him and ask him yourself?" Over the years I realized that my mother gave the answer off the top of her head at the time and that the real answer was (1) get yourself a professional clarinet teacher and (2) practice,, practice what he preaches. Since that was out of the question, I squeaked and squawked my way through the three years of junior high school band, we performed in front of our parents, we all squeaked and squawked, but our forgiving parents at least knew that we were trying our best. When I entered Niagara Falls High School, in the 10th grade I still didn't want to give up my clarinet even though my technique hadn't improved all that much. It was in high school that I was faced with a wonderful challenge. We were being taught a number of Souza marches and that spurred all of us on. Not only were we taught the marches, we actually marched out on the football field in snazzy uniforms and played for the packed(?) stadium at half time. Now granted, we probably still squeaked and squawked but we sure felt good about ourselves. But what surprised me the most was the grade I received in my senior year from Mr. Emmett, our band teacher and leader. He gave me the grade of 90! Now there was NO way that I deserved that high of a grade because of my ability to play the clarinet. But over the years I've come to the conclusion that I got that grade because I was a VERY serious student and member of the band and if I recall correctly now in my old age, at one point I got so agitated with a particular goof-off band member that I threatened to hit him over the head with my clarinet!! Hey, there's more than one way to get a grade of 90!! :-) vee

Dear Folks, This evening I had to face reality. I've been cooking too much and too frequently lately. The "reality" aspect of it is that the top freezer compartment of my refrigerator is stuffed full of delicious leftovers from all of the dinners I've been preparing. I swear I've got a larger variety of frozen entrees than Marie Callender! Not only that but my chest freezer seems to be stuffed full with bags of plain frozen vegetables and other "stuff." In addition, yesterday I finally managed to buy a chuck roast, had the butcher slice it horizontally in half to make it thinner for Swiss Steak and then when I got it home I was appalled at the amount of fat on it. Note: he had only two roasts in the meat case and my mind was elsewhere when I picked the smaller one. In addition, the "butcher" is actually the store manager and the hacking job he did left a lot to be desired. This afternoon I decided to at least get started preparing the Swiss Steak. I spent at least 1/2 hour trimming as much fat off it as possible. The scraps weigh almost 1/2 pound but not to worry, I wrapped them up and put them in my freezer to use in a soup stock for flavor. This evening in a last burst of energy I got out my cast iron skillet, dredged all of the pieces of steak in seasoned flour and browned them nicely. They're now in my refrigerator waiting for me to finish up the Swiss Steak tomorrow. Then came reality. My recipe for Swiss Steak says it will serve 8 people. That means that I'll have one serving tomorrow for dinner and then I'll wrap up the other 7 and store them in the freezer. But where? And here's the thing of it. All of the other dinners I've been preparing lately serve 6-8 people and at the rate I've been going, I've got enough prepared entrees in my freezer to feed me for the next two or three months without my having to lift a finger to cook another thing. Frankly, that saddens me because I've been enjoying getting back into the joy of cooking. But knowing me, that still won't stop me. I still have a whole big variety of frozen vegetables in my chest freezer and what's an entree without a vegetable? Hey, I've got zesty sauces for vegetables the likes of which you can't imagine. Just as long as I don't cook them up so that they'll serve 6-8 people! vee

Dear Folks, This evening I realized that over a number of years of my life I spent a lot of time listening to records just by myself. When I was a teenager in the 1940s I all but wore out the records that I had of "Moonlight Serenade," "Stardust," "I'll Be Seeing You" and all of the other WWII songs. When it came to the 1950s even though I didn't have the records to play, I still listened to the radio and remember vividly such songs such as "How Much is That Doggy in the Window?" "I'm Walking Beside You," "You're Cheating Heart" and "Hey There, You With the Stars in Your Eyes." But when it came to the mid 1950s and I was 3,000 miles from home and in the Navy, my taste in music changed to a degree. I had already been exposed to classical music and I couldn't hear enough of it by that time. I had already heard Tchaikovsky's"1812 Overture" on brand-new high fidelity and from there I was hooked. I bought up every record of Tchaikovsky's that I could find and then somehow I was introduced to Beethoven. I swear I bought up everyone of his symphonies and over a period of time I could name everyone of them just by the music. And that's what brought up the subject in my mind this evening. I was listening to my classical radio station while I was cleaning up my dishes and things in my kitchen and when I heard what was playing I immediately recognized it as Beethoven's 6th Symphony also known as his Pastoral Symphony. At first I was pleased to at least recognize precisely which symphony it was but as it continued on and on I started to get bored with it. Over the 40 years that have passed since I first heard it, I've gotten jaded with the familiar passages and the soft pastoral landscape Beethoven was painting at the time. In other words I knew where he was going with it as well as I eventually knew where Tshaikovsky was going with his "1812 Overture." Included in that same category is the entire opera of Carmen. There's something to say about not listening to the same recordings over and over again over the years. Somewhere along the line you'll lose sight of the magic they gave you the first time you heard them. I know you won't take my advice but don't hold on to CD recordings as if that's the last time you'll have the opportunity to enjoy a particular song or symphony. Enjoy it at the time, let go of it and hopefully the next time you hear the music it will bring back the original memories or magic you remembered in the first place. vee

[email protected] writes: Peter helped me earlier with finding my family on ship lists. How do I further research a particular ship? And under what circumstances would a German immigrant have come thru Liverpool, England to New York ? Sandy ****** Sandy, I had my German/Polish family, that came from the Opale part of Germany, also left Liverpool England! I presented this on a Polish list and was told it was common to get a passage out of Germany to a port on the North Sea side of England: Hull. Then take land transportation across England to Liverpool and a boat to America. Perhaps a trains. Our ancestors looked for the best deal when they were traveling. Also, depending on the time, what story did they tell officials why they were leaving Germany! Mine were getting out because their father did not want his two boys to have to serve in the German Army. They 'might' have used the excuse that they were going on Vacation to the North Sea area. Then they never looked back and came to the US. Susanne

This was posted to the Nova Scotia list and thought others might enjoy reading it ****************** THE STORY TELLERS..... We are the chosen. My feelings are, in each family there is one who seems called to find the ancestors. To put flesh on their bones and make them live again, to tell the family story and to feel that somehow they know, and approve. To me, doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the story tellers of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called as it were, by our genes. Those who have gone before cry out to us: Tell our story. So, we do. In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the ancestors you have a wonderful family you would be proud of us? How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there was love there for me? I cannot say. It goes beyond just documenting facts. It goes to who am I and why do I do the things I do? It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost forever to weeds and indifference and saying I can't let this happen. The bones here are bones of my bone and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about it. It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish. How they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their hardships and losses, their never giving in or giving up, their resoluteness to go on and build a life for their family. It goes to deep pride that they fought to make and keep us a Nation. It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were doing it for us. That we might be born who we are. That we might remember them. So we do. With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence, because we are them and they are us. So, as a scribe called, I tell the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to answer the call and take their place in the long line of family storytellers. That, is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and old to step up and put flesh on the bones. Borrowed from the Beattie Project Newsletter Author unknown

Ruth: No, you weren't dreaming, I never owned any of those records, but I had several of the cereal box records! Kim ----- Original Message ----- From: "Ruth Barton" <[email protected]> To: "Kim & Mike Paul" <[email protected]>; <[email protected]> Sent: Wednesday, April 07, 2004 1:02 PM Subject: Cardboard records > Kim, I'm glad they aren't very collectable as we threw out a whole bunch > of them several years ago. Also glad I didn't dream them up as it seems > most people have never heard of them. Ruth

This evening I gave the Chicken Loraine recipe one last chance and put the remaining two chicken thighs(?) into the microwave along with the white wine, Parmesan cheese and LIBERALLY sprinkled everything with garlic powder. When I figured they were finally cooked I thawed out a quantity of cooked angel hair spaghetti, sprinkled it liberally with garlic powder also and in the end I filled my dinner plate with the one large chicken piece, the spaghetti and poured the sauce over it all. Although it wasn't gourmet fare, it certainly was a tasty alternative to the other night. BTW, not to flirt with disaster, but this evening I decided not to go for the gourmet stuff for tomorrow's dinner and fixed a no-fail(?) recipe for Glorified Hash. It's a simple recipe, quick to make and even though it's been dubbed "Heart Attack on a Plate," it's soooo satisfying. All it takes is one can of corned beef hash crumbled up in a baking dish, a cup or more shredded cheese spread on top of it and then poured over that is a mixture of 2 beaten eggs, 1-1/4 cup milk 1 tablespoon flour and a pinch of nutmeg and mustard. Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes and ENJOY. BOY, if I screw up on THAT simple recipe you can be certain that I'll be checking the yellow pages to see if I can get a discount on daily take-out! vee

Kim, I'm glad they aren't very collectable as we threw out a whole bunch of them several years ago. Also glad I didn't dream them up as it seems most people have never heard of them. Ruth At 10:34 PM -0500 4/4/04, Kim & Mike Paul wrote: >Vee, Ruth & group: > >I asked my husband about cardboard records and he told me that you could >buy them in regular record shops back then. The records were fairly >common, and as you mentioned, made of cardboard, often varnished with >shellac. They aren't very collectable as the Vogue records are, though. >We have a few of those in our collection. > >I remember when I was a kid in the 60's and we used to collect records >that we cut out of cereal boxes, I used to have a bunch of those, but >don't know what happened to them. Now those are highly collectable! >Those records had the popular teen groups and idols on them of the day. > >Hope that answers your question! > >Kim -- Ruth Barton [email protected] Dummerston, VT

The ones here are green instead of red,it has flowers painted on the side. This sifter has been around longer than I have, don't know how much longer. Ruth At 11:29 PM -0400 4/4/04, Vee L. Housman wrote: >Ruth suggested, > >> Vee, If you can't find the sifter use a wire strainer and just shake it. >Ruth > >Ruth, do you know what? That's pretty much my attitude lately. Actually I >did find my 1950 Bridal Shower flour sifter today, gave it a good scrubbing >and I really don't hate to sift the flour. All I need to do is hold its >red-painted handle and turn its crank with the red-painted knob on the end >of it and I have sifted flour. -- Ruth Barton [email protected] Dummerston, VT