Dear Folks, Late tonight I waded through the last of my tape recordings that I made during my adventure in Suriname. Because I was pretty much exhausted listening to the endless drums, singing and sounds of dancing, I was grateful when the last tape clicked off. It was the end to an endless story. But now I have to sigh. Frankly, I didn't want it all to end. In spirit I'm still there and want to stay there. But now that 33 years have passed, I'll have to keep those memories alive in my transcriptions of the tapes and what I remember that weren't recorded on tape. I feel that I did a pretty darned good job in meticulously transcribing just about everything I had recorded but now I have the job of putting everything in chronological order. From the first day that I had walked along the streets of Paramaribo (the capitol of Suriname) recording all the sounds of the different languages spoken in passing, to the glorious celebration of Freedom Day (emancipation of the slaves), and then on into the jungle up the Marowjine River. I have a long haul ahead of me to put it all in much abbreviated order, but I know that in the end, I'll be able to read it all over again and relive those glorious days. vee

Dear Folks, This afternoon I went to the super market to pick up a few things and when I got to the checkout counter, the clerk and I got into a conversation. It had to do with my telling her that I rarely buy anything that isn't on sale and she knew what I was talking about. She's the same way. Note: She was probably only in her early to mid 20s. I told her how careful I was to charge anything on my credit card, she agreed, and then told me a story that I still can't quite believe. The told me that recently while a couple were checking out, they told her they were expecting their first child. However, they wheeled up FOUR grocery carts piled high with things they had bought. She told me that she herself was shocked at the total of their bill. $800 dollars! As hard as I tried to imagine that huge amount of money being spent on only one trip to the super market, I still couldn't picture what they might have bought that would cost all that money. ESPECIALLY since they were expecting only their first child! Of course, they charged the whole amount on their credit card. Both the clerk and I couldn't even picture where they would store that amount of food (my comment was maybe they had a warehouse!) but more than that we wondered if they always spend money like that, charge it on their credit card(s), max them out and then pay only the minimum payment on them to cover the interest. I know I'm thrifty and it pleased me that the young clerk was just as thrifty. But in my wildest dreams I still can't picture $800 worth of groceries for only two people. vee

Wow! Leslie ----- > Dear Folks, > > My neighbor Dawn and her dear son Jamie (my buddy) made their short trip > over to my house this evening to make certain that my recycle bin and > trash got put out for garbage collection tomorrow. > > Before they left I wanted them (especially Jamie) to hear what I had been > listening to for the past couple of days on my tape recorder. I wanted > them to hear the sounds of African drums that I had recorded in Suriname, > South America. From the minute I turned on my tape player, both of them > just stood in disbelief. First of all, I explained that I was in Suriname > when I recorded the drums and they had difficulty in believing that not > only did the drums sound like African ones, I had made the recording an > entire continent south of here. I had actually been there! > > One thing that Dawn couldn't believe was the quality of the recording, > especially after I had told her I had recorded it over 30 years ago on a > hand-held second-hand heavy Sony tape recorder hidden underneath my purse > at the time. Later tonight Dawn and I had a conversation over the phone > and she was still in awe over my entire experience. > > In the first place, she and Jamie had continued to have a conversation > about the recording and she impressed upon Jamie that it had been a > "real-time" experience for me, not just a documentary on TV. > > She couldn't quite picture herself in such primitive surroundings. I asked > her how old she is. She told me 45. I told her I was 40 years old when I > had set out on the trip all by myself--not on a commercial tour. She > couldn't quite take that in either. Of course I had to add a bit more > excitement regarding my experience in Suriname by telling her that the > first night I was out on the river, our tour guide left a kerosene lantern > on in our hut until daybreak. I told Dawn it was to ward off the vampire > bats that were numerous in the area. I could almost hear Dawn shudder. > > It pleased me that I could share some of the sounds of Suriname with > someone else. Especially Dawn and Jamie. Up until now, I've been the > only one who has been able to enjoy and appreciate those sounds again. > > vee

Dear Folks, My neighbor Dawn and her dear son Jamie (my buddy) made their short trip over to my house this evening to make certain that my recycle bin and trash got put out for garbage collection tomorrow. Before they left I wanted them (especially Jamie) to hear what I had been listening to for the past couple of days on my tape recorder. I wanted them to hear the sounds of African drums that I had recorded in Suriname, South America. From the minute I turned on my tape player, both of them just stood in disbelief. First of all, I explained that I was in Suriname when I recorded the drums and they had difficulty in believing that not only did the drums sound like African ones, I had made the recording an entire continent south of here. I had actually been there! One thing that Dawn couldn't believe was the quality of the recording, especially after I had told her I had recorded it over 30 years ago on a hand-held second-hand heavy Sony tape recorder hidden underneath my purse at the time. Later tonight Dawn and I had a conversation over the phone and she was still in awe over my entire experience. In the first place, she and Jamie had continued to have a conversation about the recording and she impressed upon Jamie that it had been a "real-time" experience for me, not just a documentary on TV. She couldn't quite picture herself in such primitive surroundings. I asked her how old she is. She told me 45. I told her I was 40 years old when I had set out on the trip all by myself--not on a commercial tour. She couldn't quite take that in either. Of course I had to add a bit more excitement regarding my experience in Suriname by telling her that the first night I was out on the river, our tour guide left a kerosene lantern on in our hut until daybreak. I told Dawn it was to ward off the vampire bats that were numerous in the area. I could almost hear Dawn shudder. It pleased me that I could share some of the sounds of Suriname with someone else. Especially Dawn and Jamie. Up until now, I've been the only one who has been able to enjoy and appreciate those sounds again. vee

Leslie said, > A close family friend owned a store in our small Missouri hometown. After > picking out a greeting card, I began visiting with another friend. > Somehow, I forgot what I was doing and put the card into my purse. After > the visit, I told everyone goodbye and started down the street to the drug > store. And, I nealy made it there (1 block) when I suddenly realized what > I had done! I ran back to Lois Jean's store and confessed what I had done. > Of course, she just laughed. I apologized profusely, paid for the card, > and left the store feeling very, very bad. Lois Jean is now in her 80's. > She did not even remember the incident when I mentioned it to her about > 10-15 years ago. But now, we periodically laugh at my dumb mistake. Dear Leslie, the infamous greeting card thief! :-) Oh how I know that feeling! It wasn't all that long ago when I was shopping in the local grocery store and after I had checked out and went back to my car to unload my groceries, I noticed a cucumber that had been hidden underneath my purse in the grocery cart. Oh my goodness, I hadn't even paid for it! I turned right around, stood in line at the check out stand and explained to the clerk that I had overlooked the cucumber. She looked at me rather strangely as if no one had ever come back into the store insisting they hadn't paid for a cucumber! vee, the infamous cucumber thief!

Evelyn and "Snow" said, > Maybe it was a child thing, that of being a one time theft, > > > Yup - must be... and isn't it odd that out of all the things we carry > > with > us, this is always there! You're both probably right but here's the thing of it. I didn't have the slightest urge to steal anything. It was all my cousin Jackie's suggestion. I guess that nowadays we would call it peer pressure. She suggested it, I knew it was wrong but I went along with her. And I've carried that guilt with me for over 60 years. vee

Dear Folks, You know me, I'm still trying to transcribe the tape recordings I made on the Marowijne River in Suriname back in 1972. This is one of the "little" adventures I had back then. One evening Jytte and I walked a short distance away from where we were camped and Jytte lit a small campfire near a stream. While I was waiting for the fire to take hold, I wandered over to the stream and looked around. There on the ground was the prettiest multi-colored little frog you ever saw. As I was bending down to pet the sweet little thing, Jytte saw me and shouted out, "Don't touch it!" I practically ran back to the fire wondering what was wrong. Jytte explained that it was undoubtedly poisonous and if I touched it even with my fingers, the poison from the pores on its back was powerful enough to enter my blood stream though my skin and kill me! Whoa! I'll never be taken in by a pretty little colored frog again! vee

In a message dated 5/24/05 7:50:51 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time, ebcooper@copper.net writes: Maybe it was a child thing, that of being a one time theft, Yup - must be... and isn't it odd that out of all the things we carry with us, this is always there! Mine was a piece of penny candy, and I didn't get caught, but I was sure every time we went back, that they were watching me, just waiting....

I guess I must have truly believed Mother & Daddy when they threatened death, for unless they failed to tell me what I had done, I did not steal anything until I was an adult! It sounds much worse than it was, folks. A close family friend owned a store in our small Missouri hometown. After picking out a greeting card, I began visiting with another friend. Somehow, I forgot what I was doing and put the card into my purse. After the visit, I told everyone goodbye and started down the street to the drug store. And, I nealy made it there (1 block) when I suddenly realized what I had done! I ran back to Lois Jean's store and confessed what I had done. Of course, she just laughed. I apologized profusely, paid for the card, and left the store feeling very, very bad. Lois Jean is now in her 80's. She did not even remember the incident when I mentioned it to her about 10-15 years ago. But now, we periodically laugh at my dumb mistake. Leslie K.

Vee you said - "So there you have it. Now my criminal history is out in the open and I feel better for the confession." vee Maybe it was a child thing, that of being a one time theft, as I, too, stole something from our small local grocery store. For me it was a small piece of candy which I put in my pocket. When mom found out about it (don't moms know all these things), I had to go down to the store and apologize for my action. Don't remember whether I paid for the candy or not for I'm sure the candy (or at least most of it) was already in my tummy. My BIG memory was going back to the store with my dad and telling them what I had done and that I was sorry. It was embarassing THOUGH valuable lesson for this child. Evelyn in cool Maine where we're experiencing a Nor-easter (as they are called)

Dear Folks, As usual I've been trying to transcribe the tape recordings I made during my Suriname Adventure in 1972. Trust me, it hasn't been easy what with Jytte's Danish accent and Aaron's Bush Negro accent. Nonetheless, in my recordings I continued to hear what Alan and Karyn Anderson were saying and asking. They were very intent on learning everything they could about Bush Negroes, slavery, escaping slaves and their language. The more I heard their voices and the more that I remembered them made me want to get back in touch with them after all of these 33 years. We corresponded with each other for a couple of years afterwards but then we lost contact. Of course, knowing me, I couldn't let it all slide. I got on the Internet and searched for a Canadian phone directory. Then I plugged in Alan Anderson, Saskatoon, Sascatchewan, Canada. I got only one hit. Alan B. Anderson, living in Saskatoon. Of course with that common name I couldn't be sure that he was the Alan I remembered. What I did remember from our Suriname trip up the river was that Alan had mentioned that he had received his Ph.D and in our brief correspondence afterward, Karyn wrote at Christmas time 1973 that he was a visiting professor at the University of Guelph for a year. With that information at hand I checked out the Internet to see if there was any mention of a Professor Alan Anderson. Oh wow, was there ever! Apparently he's now a very renown professor. Check him out at http://www.asiapacificresearch.ca/caprn/listing.cfm?SpecialistID=SPH703CA So what was the dumb thing I did tonight? I called the number I had found and waited for an answer. I got only their answer machine and I recognized Karyn's voice immediately. I left a dumb message saying that I didn't know if I had reached the right Anderson residence (I KNEW that I had) and said that I was Vee Patella (my name back in 1972) and that I hoped that I had reached the same couple that traveled with me up the Marowijne River in Suriname back in 1972. I left my phone number in case they wanted to call me and I was sorely tempted to add a couple of expressions they might still remember--"Ona boat, Ona Boat" and our special fun thing to say after Jytte had told us about the Wai Wai and Rupuruni Indian tribes in the area. When things got boring one of us would ask the question, "Wai Wai?" and the other two of us would reply, "Rupuruni!" Oh what fun! It's now 12:30 and I know it's only 9:30 their time but I'm still waiting for the phone to ring. If they do call tonight, my only hope is that I'll be able to have an intelligent conversation with them without my babbling all over the place. Even after all these years, they couldn't possibly forget "Ona boat, Ona boat!" vee

Dear Folks, This afternoon I was in the parking lot heading for the door to the small grocery store in our village of Youngstown when someone called out my name. I turned around and it was Pat Lloyd whom I've known for years but haven't seen in probably a year or more. We were pleased to see each other and Pat told me that she was reading about me every day. I didn't have a clue what she meant until she told me that she's a subscriber to our NYNIAGAR-FOLKS list. Even that didn't sink in until she offered to open the door for me "because I knew you would appreciate it!" When it really sunk in that she reads about everthing in my life on a daily basis (including my carrot soup recipe!), I was almost embarrassed. I had forgotten that she was a listmember who lives in Youngstown and knows more about me than my niece Deb does. I had to backpedal in my mind to try and remember if I had ever written anything negative about the Lloyd family who were one of the first settlers around here. Of course, I wouldn't have but you never know about me. Pat assured me that I never had (thank goodness! :-)). It was then that I realized that all of you know more about me than anyone else in the world. In fact, if the FBI or CIA would be interested in investigating me, all they would have to do is to check our archives! My life is all there all the way back to the mid 1930s when I was a kid. Yes, you know almost everything there is to know about me--with the exception of the VERY personal stuff. Now if the FBI/CIA wanted to know the personal stuff, they'd have to show up on my doorstep and ask me questions. That doesn't mean that I'd tell them EVERYTHING but at least I could give them a hint. OK, while I'm in the mood to confess a bit of crime in my life, if they would ask me if I ever stole anything, I'd have to admit that I did. When? About 1942 when I was ten years old. My cousin Jackie made me do it, really she did! We were in the 5 & 10 and there was a counter with a jumble of small pins depicting the emblems of all the military services. She picked up one and I picked up one. Jackie persuaded me to just put it in my pocket and nobody would know. I didn't want to but I did anyway. I had the pin for a number of years and I felt guilty every time I saw it. I eventually threw it out because I didn't wanted to be reminded of my Grand Theft when I was ten years old. So there you have it. Now my criminal history is out in the open and I feel better for the confession. vee

Dear Folks, No, I'm not in Suriname, I'm still in Youngstown. However, my spirit still remains in Suriname 30 years ago. Today I was back in the village listening to Jytte telling us about the little fat black spirits. They were mischievous and naughty and a bit like little elves. In order for the villagers to keep them out of their huts, they had a handy whip nearby. It was from the Mauritia palm tree. I took a picture of the palm tree and I think it's the same one. The nuts hang down from a long flexible stem that looks like braided hair. Therefore, I have an idea that's what the handy whip was made of--the long stem. Whenever the little fat black spirits would enter a hut, they would be whipped out. I was back on the Marowijne River listening to Viano our boatman playing his drums, whether his drum was an empty metal Planters Peanut can or an empty orange plastic water bottle or whether it was a metal cooking kettle. He played it with fervor and while he was beating the intricate ancient African rhythms, he was singing at the top of his voice. I was back getting soaked to my skin in the pouring rain and the waves that washed over our boat in the rapids. And I was in the unbearable sweltering heat in the sun. I was with the slaves as they escaped from their slave masters and went into the impenetrable jungle guided only by the spirits of their ancestors. I would dearly love to experience that adventure again but it's impossible. Thirty years have gone by and such "tours" up the Marowijne River now wouldn't include all of the hardships we went through. Certainly the tourists wouldn't sleep in hammocks in a deserted Bush Negro fishing village with a kerosene lamp burning all night to keep out the vampire bats! However, I still have my tape recordings and my memories and I can go back to Suriname any time I want. vee

Dear David, Thanks. Eventually I figured that out. Frankly I agree with you regarding the resolution. Even though I could make out my driveway, I swear my house isn't next to it! vee ----- Original Message ----- From: "David Cornell" <djcmgf@optonline.net> To: <NYNIAGAR-FOLKS-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Sunday, May 22, 2005 3:25 PM Subject: Re: [FOLKS] WOW!! Look at this site. Satellite views of your homes > Vee, > > Once you get to the road map showing where your house is, look at the > far right on the tan band than runs across the page just above the map. > You will see a link named "Satellite" (with "New!" next to it. Click on > that and you should be taken to the satellite picture. > > A couple of caveats: The little pointer that says "here it is" can > sometimes be a little off; at least it was for the house in Buffalo that > I grew up in. > > Also, while the resolution in the Buffalo picture is good enough to pick > out individual house, for my current house in Fishkill, all I can see is > what looks like a green shag carpet, which I assume is the tree tops, no > matter how much I zoom in. > > David Cornell

Vee, Once you get to the road map showing where your house is, look at the far right on the tan band than runs across the page just above the map. You will see a link named "Satellite" (with "New!" next to it. Click on that and you should be taken to the satellite picture. A couple of caveats: The little pointer that says "here it is" can sometimes be a little off; at least it was for the house in Buffalo that I grew up in. Also, while the resolution in the Buffalo picture is good enough to pick out individual house, for my current house in Fishkill, all I can see is what looks like a green shag carpet, which I assume is the tree tops, no matter how much I zoom in. David Cornell Re: [FOLKS] WOW!! Look at this site. Satellite views of your homes > Date: Fri, 20 May 2005 22:22:13 -0400 > From: "Vee L. Housman" <housman@adelphia.net> > To: NYNIAGAR-FOLKS-L@rootsweb.com > > Dear Beth, > > I was so excited to see a satellite view of my house but no matter how I > tried I couldn't bring it up. Only a road map to show me where I am. Do > you have any clue where I went wrong? > vee

Dear Folks, Although I thought I had written as much as I could to cover my Suriname Adventure, I realized today that it was only the tip of the iceberg. I realized that I need to listen to all of the tape recordings I had made at the time. I transcribed what Jytte had told us about the extreme cruelty of the slave masters (especially the women) and what Aaron Yarick had told us about how the slaves managed to escape and make their way through the jungle with the help of their Kramanti spirits. Aaron also told us about his experience in tapping the rubber trees and ending up with balata, raw rubber. His grandparents were slaves. This evening I listened to another tape when we were in a village and where Jytte explained how the Bush Negro women made oil out of Mauritia palm nuts. They pounded them and boiled them in water and after three days they ended up with 1-1/2 liters of oil. In the background we could hear the women pounding the nuts. Very primitive. Frankly, it's very ponderous to listen to the tapes because of on and on listening to the roar of the rapids we were going through and that it's difficult to make out what Jytte is saying what with her heavy Danish accent. Nonetheless, I have an idea that my going through all of those 90 minute tapes, I'll have a better understanding of what I had experienced. Every day and every day, I feel that I'm still back on the Marowjine River and going through the same exciting adventures I had over 30 years ago. It's a wonderful feeling and memory. vee

Dear Folks, Yesterday I realized I was out of homemade soup for my lunches and after much thought I remembered the carrot soup I had made once (and only once) back around 1973. It's called Imperial Carrot Soup and I had clipped the recipe out of a women's magazine or some such many years ago. I remembered that it had tasted good the first time around and I remembered that it was a pureed soup. Last evening I thought I'd try it again. This is the recipe: Imperial Carrot Soup 3 cups sliced carrots (I used a bag of frozen carrots) 2 tablespoons butter or margarine 3 whole cloves 2 tablespoons water 1/8th teaspoon white pepper (Add a generous shake or 2 of powdered onions--my addition) 2 chicken bouillon cubes 2 cups hot water 1 cup rich milk or half and half (I used 2% milk) 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/4th teaspoon coriander (I was out of it) 1 teaspoon freeze dried chives (I used a generous sprinkling of the fresh frozen chives I've had since last fall) Slice carrots on the diagonal about 1/4th inch thick. Melt butter over low heat. Add whole cloves, water, pepper and carrot slices (and onions). Cook covered about 1/2 hour or until carrots are tender. Use a blender or mixer and mash carrots (My note: forget about the mixer. Mine just couldn't manage to mash all of them up.) Dissolve bouillon in hot water, add rich milk, salt, coriander and mashed carrots (and frozen chives). Bring to a boiling point. Garish with chives. Serve hot. Makes one quart or four servings. Things went well enough for me until I tried to mash the carrots up in my heavy mixer using the large bowl. Therefore, I had to get out my food processor. It did a good job and only took two batches. I dumped the mashed carrots into the other ingredients in the pan on top of my stove and finished up the soup. One taste told me that it was as good as I had remembered over 30 years ago. However, by that time it had taken me 1-1/2 hours to cook it up and my legs were about to give out on me. All of that work for only four servings (well, in my case it's probably eight servings). I was really in a grumpy mood. However, since I had my first bowl of the soup for lunch today, I knew that I needed to have another try at making it. In the first place, I can see no reason not to use my microwave to cook the carrots until tender and to add the other ingredients accordingly. Not only that, I see no reason to puree it at all. A pureed soup may be more eloquent but I have the feeling it would taste just as delicious without making such a mess in my food processor/mixer. It's too tasty to give up on it. Hey, you never know. Maybe the next time I make it, I'll throw in some cubed potatoes. Now that sounds like a heartier soup. vee

Here's the rest of my Suriname pictures descriptions. 13. Landoe and two little native villagers. I believe this was in Viano's village, Benanoe. Notice the bright paintings on the huts. Each design tells a story about the people that live in the hut. The Bush Negroes do a lot of marvelous wood carving also. I have a lovely large round tray that a man carved for is wife. It is a tray used for winnowing rice. I was able to buy it from her. I almost felt guilty bribing her with gilders. Of course it was Jytte and Viano who talked to her about my buying it. She wouldn't have understood a word I would have said, anyway. 14. This lovely man's name was Da' Moi Lafoe (father with the beautiful smile/laughter). He asked Viano and Jytte if we would do him the honor of coming into his hut and joining him in a drink of strawberry pop. We climbed up the ladder to the "second story" (where he is standing in the picture) and we practically had to crawl into the hut through the small doorway. We all sat on the small carved wooden stools that they use for chairs and he opened the very warm bottle (it must have been about 120 degrees in there!). He poured some of the pop out on the floor and prayed to the spirit of the Mother of the Earth, thanking her for the drink and offering her some of it. He also thanked her for bringing people to him who wanted to learn about his people. He went on and on with his prayers until we thought he would never stop. However, when Jytte had interpreted what he had said, we were all quite touched. We certainly weren't treated like "tourists" by and of the villagers. They just thought it was so wonderful that we were so interested in seeing how they lived. And we thought it was so wonderful how loving and generous a people they are. Truly an education in Christianity--and most of the villagers have not been converted to Christianity yet. 15. A most unusual picture of several Bush Negro women sitting outside a thatched hut. We had to be very careful about taking pictures as the natives thought it was an invasion of privacy. I believe I "sneaked" this picture, pretending to take only Jytte's picture. Notice the carved stools they are sitting on and the hand woven baskets against the hut. We didn't see too many men in the villages as they were unusually fishing or hunting. 16. My favorite picture. Karyn (the wife of Alan) handing out candy to the little children. You can tell the girls from the boys as the girls wore beads around their waists and braided their hair. They were such friendly and loving children. 17. The last village we stopped at--Langatepeche. We had to leave the village sooner than we wanted to as there was a rain squall coming up. There are villagers on the river bank and above the bank waving goodbye to us. 18. This is the reason we had to leave the last village. When it rains in Suriname it really pours. After the rain was over, it was quite chilly but refreshing. On the river it was always quite pleasant. There always was a breeze. But when we got out of the boat and walked through the villages the heat was almost unbearable. No one stayed in the sun any longer than they had to! 19. St. Laurent, French Guiana. It was so very, very French. Like Surinam (Paramaribo) is so very, very Dutch. We took a short walk around the small town. I bought a beautiful gold ring with a pearl from the goldsmith who had made it. One of my most prized possessions. 20. The gates to the old prison which was made famous (or infamous) in the movie "Papillon" with Steve McQueen. St. Laurent used to be a notorious penal colony. Anyone trying to escape from the prison was automatically sent to Devil's Island in French Guiana. This was long ago [actually it wasn't until 1953 that the penal colony was closed!] and now I believe the prison buildings are used for a shrimp packing plant. I'm so glad I wrote down the stories behind the pictures when I did. I had forgotten so many of the details but now they're fresh in my mind again. vee

Dear Folks, I'm still going through the notes and transcriptions I made and came up with a description of snapshots I had taken. I had sent the photos to my Housman aunts and uncles and family. Of course I can't send you the pictures but maybe you can get a glimpse of my experience of 1972. 1. Paramibo, capital of Suriname, street scene on my way to the market place. Saw a number of food vendors such as the one in the picture selling "Warme Worst." Surinam hot dogs?? 2. Continuing to market. Uniformed man is a policeman. The woman is carrying her laundry the easy way--on her head. Notice the cars driving on the left side of the street. Suriname is the only country in South America that still drives like the British. No one seems to know how they got started in the first place. 3. Two Hindu women buying a lace shawl from vendor. There are vendors all along the street selling everything imaginable (but mostly incomprehensible!) I didn't have the foggiest idea what they were selling most of the time! 4. Me and a little Creole girl in front of the statue of the slave, Kwakoe--decorated for Emancipation Day (Freedom Day). A Creole woman and her daughter were passing by and a woman employee from my hotel took the picture of me and the daughter. The woman asked her (the Creole) if I could have my picture taken in her anjesa (headdress) and so I borrowed her daughter, too! It must have looked so strange that a Japanese tourist walking by took our picture too! 5. The "fairgrounds" called ABO's on Emancipation day. The style of dress ranged from the large woman in the red "Kettikottie" dress to the younger one in the purple hot pants and white boots. Note, however, both of them are wearing the anjesa. 6. Watching everyone dancing at ABO's. The music had a strong South American beat but was typically Suriname. Notice the women dancing together. They were really enjoying themselves! I believe there were more older people dancing than there were the younger ones. 7. Getting into our boat on the Marowijne River starting out on our river safari. The young man is Alan who was with his wife Karen. They were Canadians. The Bush Negro is Viano ("Fiano.") It was his tourist service--see side of boat. The girl on the right in the red skirt and white blouse is Jytte "Yuta," the Danish tour guide. 8. Jama ("Yama") and Landoe ("Landew), the young boys that helped with the boat. Jama is helping steer the boat through very shallow water by using the long pole. We were approaching some wild water. 9. The rapids were getting rather nasty. 10. We're right in the middle of "Men Scream" rapids. We were soaked to the skin by the time we were through them. 11. We had to stop to lighten the boat so that Viano could get it through the rest of the rapids. We were on an island and the two boys were helping. Landoe who was about seven years old, preferred to play. He's the one up in the tree. 12. Me and my buddy Landoe--he also loved to have his picture taken!--it was practically impossible to take one without him in it! I guess I better cut this short and continue tomorrow. The picture descriptions total 20. vee

Dear Beth, I was so excited to see a satellite view of my house but no matter how I tried I couldn't bring it up. Only a road map to show me where I am. Do you have any clue where I went wrong? vee ----- Original Message ----- From: "Beth Fleischer" <lynnf@earthlink.net> To: <NYNIAGAR-FOLKS-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Friday, May 20, 2005 2:24 PM Subject: [FOLKS] WOW!! Look at this site. Satellite views of your homes > > Hi Group, > I just got through looking at my home here in California and then put in > Vee's address and was looking at her home too. What a kick!! Want to see > Youngstown and the area around it? Want to print out the photos from the > satellite views? This is a great addition to your genealogy information. > You can go back and print out all the places you've lived in. Go to > maps.google.com and then put in your addy. Click on the satellite view > and then enjoy. You can move in any direction on the map so you can see > all the old neighborhoods. I was just looking from Vee's house over to my > aunt's house and then over to Fort Niagara. > Keep in mind this can be definitely addicting so give yourself time to > sit down and enjoy a real bird's eye view of the neighborhood. > Beth Fleischer descendant of original first settler of Youngstown John > Lloyd > > > > > >