We discuss topic "A" whenever we communicate and I avoid filling them in on "B" at all costs.

I have been throwing myself at helping people with their genealogical research. I've been engaging in "random acts of kindness" by posting obituaries and references to their relevant forums. I'm enjoying it, especially when someone lets me know I helped them.

I am saddened when I read posts to young girls requesting they "call home" or "call mom". I have read through so many stories of estrangement and loss. There are so many people looking for lost children and siblings. I did read one story today that really uplifted me.

The "Story of Betty Reese" began in 1945, when a nineteen year old Flight Engineer named Roger Ellis was pre-flighting his B-24 prior to takeoff from Morotai, a tiny island in the Southwest Pacific. The mission of the 424th Sq, 307th BG, 13th AAF was to bomb a Japanese oil field in Borneo a thousand miles to the West. Because the entire flight would be over water and fuel transfer would be required, it was important to inspect the fuel valves at the rear of the flight deck. While performing that check, Ellis found a small white card tucked in between bulkhead panels. He pulled it out and read:

Good Luck!
Betty Reese
429 Rosemount Ave.
Pittsburg, California

This message from an undoubtedly beautiful "Rosie the Riveter" was special. She had helped get this airplane to them, thousands of miles from home and he could laugh at Tokyo Rose because he knew that girls like Betty Reese were behind him and the rest of his crew; making airplanes that safely accomplished their mission and brought them home again.

The mission that day was four hours flight time to the target and as the bombers approached the oil field, Ellis moved through the bomb bay pulling the arming pins from the bombs. These pins, along with the note from Betty Reese went into his pocket. The bombs were on target and all but one of the B-24s made it back to Morotai safely.

Fifty-four years later, Roger Ellis suggested it would be worth trying to find the lady and thank her for her thoughts, and undoubtedly her prayers.

One of the things I love about my family tree research is getting to interact with people who I wouldn't know at all if they weren't family. But that street goes both ways, and I look at some of my close family members and think I would never interact with you if you weren't family.

What I can say about my immediate family is that I get along with them all very well. I don't talk to my siblings (who are both on the east coast) often enough and I know I care too much about what my parents think of me.

I make an effort to stay in touch with my extended family, because I like having them in my life. Some of my cousins drive me a bit crazy, but all of my cousins once removed are absolutely adorable. I really must get to Israel this year.

So I was sitting on the bed today, doing some family tree stuff, when I see him out of the corner of my eye. I'd love to say he was itsy bitsy, but he was a substantial spider -- reddish brown -- about the size of my big toenail. It was a showdown until I could flip him off the bed without touching him. I did so. He shook one leg at me and threatened to have his wife put her spider eggs in the bed so that his babies could eat me in the middle of the night.

Me: I'm awful big.

Him: Well, I'm willing to get it on with Mrs. Spider more often so we can have a bigger family.

Me: Don't take that tone with me. I'm the only human you'll encounter who won't squish you on sight.

Him: Are you some kind of wimp?

Me: No. I'd like to arrange it so that you leave me alone and I leave you alone.

Him: Nah, you'll make a fine feast for my kids.

At which point we ended our conversation. Family!

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