Dorothy Pritchard
Reply from Connie Zorn Landsverk: Bottineau, ND
Hi to anyone who knows Dorothy Pritchard. Our Garden Club from Bottineau helped the Long-Term care patients celebrate January birthdays January 11,2011. We served cake, ice cream, visited with the patients & there was a special musical program. Dorothy said to me they are having this birthday party for me & it,s not even my birthday yet. She looks wonderful for 98.Happy belated birthday!! Connie (Zorn) Landsverk
My horse Story – Actually a donkey story
From Bill Grimme (65): Birmingham, AL

An old man, a boy, & a donkey were going to town. The boy rode on the donkey & the old man walked. As they went along they passed some people who remarked it was a shame the old man was walking and the boy was riding. The man and boy thought maybe the critics were right, so they changed positions.Then, later, they passed some people who remarked, ‘What a shame, he makes that little boy walk.’So they then decided they’d both walk! Soon they passed some more people who thought they were stupid to walk when they had a decent donkey to ride. So, they both rode the donkey. Now they passed some people who shamed them by saying how awful to put such a load on a poor donkey. The boy and man figured they were probably right, so they decide to carry the donkey. As they crossed the bridge, they lost their grip on the animal and he fell into the river and drowned.

The moral of the story?

If you try to please everyone, you might as well…

Kiss your ass goodbye!

Have A Nice Day And Be Careful With Your Donkey



Wes Schneider horse story

Posted by Vickie Metcalfe (70): Bottineau, ND



Gary, Florence Dahl and friends,
Today behind the boys, I just said the words ” Wes and Ovidia?” Then, hung on to their leashes as they ran away across the icy street. My thought, “Yipes” and hanging on , I slid to the back steps. The flock of birds feeding in the feeder startled , flew away as the dogs skidded to a stop and waited for Ovidia.

“My feet are like “Oh My darlin Clementine’s”. “All I need to find are some fine, slippery dancing shoes, then I’d be a skijorer.” Skjoring by it’s definition, is an exhilarating sport where you are towed on skis behind a galloping horse. Well,it’s enough exhilaration for me just running behind two galloping dogs wearing regular winter boots with grips!
Ovida and Wes who had been bird watching greeted me and we settled in for a visit, around a “picking” tray of treats and hot cocoa. I had brought copies of the blog to read to Wes.
I said, “Shall I read this one from Florence Dahl about her horse named Sparkey?” I didn’t need to read any more. Wes carried it away, clearly recalling her story,saying “That horse. Sparky was fast!” “He took her for a long hard ride, her leg caught in the stirrup her hanging upside down, over a mile, on a full gallop.” “Florence was very badly hurt, it was a tough time and she was hospitalized for a long time.”
I asked him if he’d ever ridden Sparky. He said, “No, I never did, I rode my own horse.” And then told tales about riding horses with Howard Hiatt, about skiing and roping deer. And I didn’t doubt him, I thought I bet Wes could really skijor!
Later, Wes told about a runaway he had. His father drove the Dunseith school bus. In the winter a sleigh and a team, in the summer a buggy. One fine spring morning, Wes was volunteered to “drive” the children to and from school. The one horse buggy was pulled by a horse named”Shorty”. Shorty, a clever, tricky Indian pony was a fast,quick moving bay.”
All went well in the morning, as eight children were picked up and piled into the buggy. Because there was no room left on the seat, Warren sat on the floor in front directly behind Shorty. Wes sitting behind him handling the reins drove them safely to the big white school house.
On the ride home, again the only place left to sit for Warren was on the floor board directly behind the horse’s tail. Along they went on a pleasant ride, until, Warren reached out and pulled Shortys tail.
As the horse spooked, kicked and kicked and kicked, Wes lost the grip on one rein then the other. The buggy took off down high way #5. One by one, children started jumping off. The Boguslowski’s, Marion Smith, then Warren. Wes trying his best to gain control finally was thrown off. The galloping horse and buggy continued west, leaving Wes in the dust.

Getting up Wes walked and walked, finally he saw Mr. Lamport working on the highway filling potholes. He’d caught Shorty and handed him over to Wes to drive home. Wes said his big brothers brought the car around to pick up children scattered along the way on Highway #5 turned around and delivered them all home.

All were well, nothing broken!

Later, Vickie


More Horse tails
From Vickie Metcalfe (70): Bottineau, ND

Gary and all,


Dick, my apologies with my communication skills. Sometimes what I think I’ve said comes off wrong.


I’m sorry,but you were not the target of my response about cruelty regarding your stories about horses. I know what you meant.


We’ve both viewed or heard about angry folks who should not own any animal.


We, who enjoy animals and horses, all had our share of animals who needed a stronger, heavier hand to get their attention.


Sometimes, it came to be that the horse hurt someone, or was just plain mean,and down the road they went,like John Hiatt selling his daughter Florence’s horse.


I’ve called two of those kind of horses mine:

“Smokey” who was so handsome but an “Oh so very mean black”, had to have a heavy hand every day of my sophmore year of high school.” I learned to be wary leading him as he’d rear, buck, kick & strike with both hind feet and was head strong with a bit, be it fair weather or a foot of snow. (I have another story my brother likes about my dad ‘s ride on Smokey)


Smokey was smart, and often would get the idea to buck up, pin and smack the rider against a tree or granary the rider would finally get off. I think of him whenever I visit the chiropractor.


Then came a horse of a different colour.

As an adult I suffered a serious, debilitating injury,( not from a horse) sometime after,I purchased this “flea bit grey roan”. My request to the horse trader, ” I want an old horse for an “overweight, middle aged cripple”. I like the smell of horses, leather and the feeling of freedom on a good ride on the home farm.


The grey roan,the first summer, was trim,well rode out, had a smooth rocking chair gait initially sweet to a woman rider. Unfortunately I slipped and fell on ice, fracturing an ankle and was unable to work him as I was working a walker.


It came to be, a lazy winter for him at the ranch, spoiled, he hated to be away from his freedom with the other horses.


Any cowboy who tried ride, “Surefoot” found his m-o was gentle. But Immediately once in the saddle,buck up, sail the rider off the rear, then sit on him whilst he’s down__ and don’t get off. He nearly killed two experienced cowboy’s friends! I nearly made myself sick from remorse


Surefoot went down the road, with instructions. “He was not to be sold for riding purposes. My wish to the buyer, he’d go to a better purpose, like dog food.” The monies from this sale went to a good cause. A kid.


I still don’t know if those two horses were smarter__ or meaner than me. Later, Vickie
Email address change
For Ron Longie (65): Yakima WA
I have changed my Email address to———- needed to let you know so I don’t miss any newsletters. I hope this note finds you two doing well and in the best of health.

Ron Longie

John Hill Family photo
Posted by Neola Kofoid Garbe: Bottineau & Minot, ND

Hi Gary,


Is this a Dunseith family? The wife and the son on the far right in the front row look familiar, but that’s it.





The Hill family is very much a Dunseith family. I believe you had a very nice chat with Mrs. Murl Hill at one of the St. John gatherings several years ago. She was the former Murl Watkins, and is a sister to Carol (Emery) Watkins Carbonneau. Murl was married to John Hill. The Hill’s and Fugere’s owned the school buses in Dunseith for many decades. John & Murl Hill’s son Tim, is the gentleman who had the heart transplant. He is doing very well now. He lives in Minot. I think you sent him some caramels too? I think that is what I remember Murl telling me in an email message a while back. Tim is a very close friend of Dick Johnson’s. I think they were sponsors at each others weddings too.
I will for sure be posting this photo tomorrow.
Thanks Neola,
So this is Murl Hill’s family–I’ll be darned! LOL!!
You are right; I met Murl at a St. John gathering. You are also right in that I sent caramels to Tim. I met Tim in person at Wally’s/my nephew’s wedding reception. Tim’s son was the best man at the wedding. :) Which one of the boys in the picture is Tim? Will you identify the other family members for me, too, please? I’ll send the picture/names to our nephew’s wife. She loves pictures.
Thanks for adding the info about Mrs. Hill. I appreciate knowing the connections between people–I’m slowly, but surely, connecting people. :)
When I couldn’t locate this family in the Bottineau Centennial Book, I thought they would most likely be in the Dunseith book. The thought had crossed my mind John Hill might be related to Tim Hill, but I sure never guessed this would be Murl Watkins Hill’s family. Love it!
I will let the Dunseith folks identify the family members, because I do not know. These kids were a few years younger than me, so I didn’t know them that well in HS. I saw Murl several times of all places, at Wal-mart, when we were back last year. She was at the reunion too, I think, but there were so many people I don’t remember seeing her. Tim I think is the oldest boy.
ND Winter Picture
From Aime Casavant (66): Jamestown, ND

Thanks for the photos of your tropical home. This is a photo of our
Arctic home in North Dakota, just in case you have forgotten what
winters are like here just as a reminder. Aime



Awalt Log house picture

From Marshall Awalt (51): Newport, NC



Here is a picture of my Dad, John Awalt, with logs from his log cabin that was on Dick Johnson’s farm.