Every month there are names and stories that make headlines across the nation and the world.  Some months are more noteworthy and memorable than others. 
For example, I'm very aware of the headlines when Allan and I were on our Alaskan cruise in the summer of 2003.  Whether or not we sought out daily newspapers or television, they were in front of us at every turn and we became aware of the top stories.  It's hard to escape communication, even at the North Pole.
So when we learned that Bob Hope died, we purposefully listened to details of his passing as glaciers were passing outside our veranda cabins.  We watched clips of Bob Hope shows with Bing Crosby and his overseas tours to visit the troops.  I remember thinking that time goes on, and also stops, no matter where in the world we happen to be … in a war theater or a movie theater or an amphitheater in the wilderness of Alaska.
During those same two weeks of the Alaskan cruise of 2003, we learned that two of the ruthless sons of Saddam Hussein had been killed in a surprise ambush.  We had been enjoying the peace and quiet of Prince William Sound when, the next morning, the news was broadcast in our room.  Is it true that as we live, so shall we die?
It was September of 2001 that we were spending time in the City of Brotherly Love and catching up on some of our nation's history.  Our hotel room in downtown Philadelphia was only a block or two away from the Liberty Bell.
Because television is the first thing we do every morning, I witnessed the second plane flying into the World Trade Center as camera crews were filming it in astonishment.  There are always camera crews in New York City picking up events and activities, scheduled and unscheduled.
This past month of January, 2005, seemed especially filled with big names and stories, and they all got my attention while I was sitting at home in my little bitty Gazette office minding my own business and tending to it.
I gasped when I heard that Johnny Carson died, and I quickly flipped channels to catch every clip rerun and interview.  I can't say I made a point of watching him every night for 30 years during his prime, but when I did watch him I liked him, just like the rest of America.  He was hardly ever boring, whether he was interviewing monkeys or men.  He gave us something to do when we weren't quite ready for bed.  It was easy to hang around with him.
During this past month, as I worked steadily on the columns and advertise-ments for this issue of the Gazette, I listened to much of what Condoleeza Rice had to say in her Senate confirmation hearing for U.S. Secretary of State.  Her composure and kindness are unequaled, in my opinion, except by her intellect.
I think Condi should run for President of the United States of America in the next election against Hillary.  Can you imagine all the jokes we'd hear about the blond and the brunette?  When is the last time you saw two women in a battle?  It ain't pretty.  One of them always fights dirty, the one who is not a lady.
Another story that made numerous headlines last month, like every half hour for four days, focused on those 225 Minnesota sheep that got burned up in a fire.  The loss of life is sad, and the verdict of arson is ugly, but I couldn't believe that not even one of the commentators made reference to the nature of sheep in general.
They kept saying things like "the sheep were so frightened they couldn't move" and so they burned to death.  Well, I'll have you know that I tended sheep when I was a little girl.  Every evening during the summer, my sisters and I walked to the far end of our pasture to get the sheep home for the night. 
Those dumb sheep didn't know backwards from forwards.  When they stepped down into the dry creek bed, they stood there, dumbly, and refused to step out of it until we literally pushed them out.  And when those sheep got sheared in the spring, they really looked dumb. 
But not one television reporter said anything about sheep being so dumb that they couldn't find their way out of a burn-ing barn if each of them were standing in front of an open door to the open pasture.  Sheep depend on others to lead the way, whether or not they are "frightened."  Is it politically incorrect to tell it like it is, even when it comes to sheep?
Did you hear about that blonde on the sheep farm?  She was sick and tired of hearing jokes about being dumb, so she decided to dye her hair black and set out to prove to the world just how wrong they were about blondes.
She drove out of the city and into the country where there were many sheep farms.  She spotted a sheep farmer, stopped her car, and said, "If I can tell you exactly how many sheep are in your field, will you give me a sheep?"
"Sure," he said.
She counted the sheep and said, "One hundred and thirty-one."
The farmer said, "That's right.  Go ahead and get a sheep."  The blonde went and got her sheep. 
Then the farmer said, "If I tell you what color your hair really is, can I have it back?"
She said, "Yes."
The farmer said, "Blonde.  Now give me back my dog."
                                                           
                                                             ~Sue