”I laughed and said, “Go ahead.”Cindy asked, “Where?”Again I laughed and then replied, “How about in the lake.”Cindy replied, “Funny! ...ery funny! Now really, where?”Again I said, “In the lake unless you can hold it until we get to shore and you can find a bush to hide behind.”Cindy looked at me and said, “I can’t wait. Would you at least close your eyes?”I looked at my beautiful fourteen-year-old daughter in her new yellow bikini and said, “I’ll try but I don’t know if I can resist watching a. Not the teamsters we think of today, the union guys who unloaded ships and handled freight, the old fashioned kind — drovers and muleskinners, men who could handle horses and mules in teams.Dad, with Mr. Argus' assistance, had spent the past few years identifying the country's leading experts and craftsmen, and together, had spent some time making a list of who to try to reach.We began that journey with something personal. Dad, Mom, Greta and I, flew back east to Boston. Grandma Kendall lived. More

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