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Dear Editor, On pg. 14, Vol. 3, No. 9; the editor's mother as a young lady would not take second best to any of the beauties mentioned in the article ["Pulling the Scales: The Helen Scale of Becauty"]. Difficult to quantify but certainly very high.* May you all at the Ester Republic have a wonderful holiday season and a bountiful New Year. Hugs to yourself and C.M. Winterhouse! Chip & Fran P.S.: We really enjoy the paper. * Editor's Note: Well, yes, I agree, but I'm biased. I mean, she is my mum. November 6, 2001 My son gave me a subscription to your national rag, and I enjoy reading it. I live in the mountains of North Carolina right on the border with Tennessee. I thought you might appreciate this little tale which is absolutely true. Early one morning my friend and I were driving down a curvy mountain road that follows a stream out of the Smokies. Fog was rising up from the stream and around a curve we saw a cloud of smoke mixing with the fog out in the middle of the stream. We slowed down to see what was going on so early in the day. On a sand bar in the middle of the stream, two much-repaired seventies-model trucks were parked, with lean-to tents on the sides. They had wooden beds with tarps thrown over the sides. A blanket bed was spread on the rocks under the truck and we could see covers and pillows around and in both trucks where several people had spent the night. Off to the side two jean-and-flannel-clad people were tending a fire. Above the fire two gallon paint buckets were dangling from a three-pole teepee arrangement. We could smell bacon grease in the smoke. The smoke coming from the fire was pitch black with the unmistakable odor of burning rubber. At the side of the fire two men were hacking pieces from tires with long machete-looking tools and throwing the chunks onto the fire. The thick, black smoke mixed with the fog to almost block out the road on below the campsite. The tire and bacon smell permeated the whole valley. We discussed the health problems from such a fire and wondered about the paint can cooking pots but decided to each his own. Thirty minutes later we came to a tire store on the outskirts of a town. Tires were piled everywhere and a big sign proclaimed, "FREE TIRES!" Two highly dressed young women were trying to stuff four tires in the hatchback of a small car. Do you suppose they were going to a cookout or a barbecue? Have a nice day and keep on reading. What on earth would we do without books? TV just doesn’t cut it. Pleasant thoughts, December 25, 2001 A hot sun shines in a bright, blue sky this Christmas day and we decided to visit the neighbor's pool rather than going to the beach. So there I was, lounging poolside, enjoying occasional splashes as my kids did cannonballs. Sure, every so often, I’d roll over into the pool and do a couple of laps, but mostly it was just time to soak up the rays. Lazily I was perusing recent issues of The Ester Republic when crushed ice dropped onto one of the insightful, beautifully crafted articles written by the eminent historian and author, J.D. Ragan. Then it came to me, I should take a break from the hot sun, the palm tree waving in the breeze, and the cool drinks to write and tell you how much I enjoy my subscription to the Ester Republic. Eagerly I await the next installment by Hu Dun Niht. I enjoy the Personal Biases and the Events and Entertainment sections and just last week when my kids complained about never getting to see snow, I pulled out the April edition with those exotic pictures of kids searching through snowdrifts for Easter eggs. I was able to get a quick interview for the Republic with Santa when he came last night in his sleigh pulled by red-nosed kangaroos. As he gulped down the meat pie and the beer we‚d put out for him, I said, "Santa, you're dressed all in fur, from your head to your foot, isn’t that hot?" He assured me (sweat dripping off that cherry-like nose) that his outfit was more suitable to the northern hemisphere at this time of year, but he didn’t have time for a change of clothes between runs. To the staff of The National Rag of the Independent Peoples Republic of Ester, keep up the good work and Happy Holidays from "down under!" Kate Ragan
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