We want to thank Mina Young and Lee Phipps for being constant contributors to the Newsletter. They have kept us stocked with interesting and inspirational articles and other tidbits that have helped tremendously in putting together the Newsletter. We also want to thank Charlie Young for getting the Phamily Newsletter "on line". Yes we are now on the World Wide Web folks. Cousin Charlie did a great job of it, and I was really excited when I was able to go there and see it. My brother Darrell (Phipps) says we have gotten a substantial number of visits or "hits" at the site too, so that is also exciting! Well, here we go. ENJOY!

Sisters Stephanie Hill and Tonya Young both graduated college in May, 1999. Click on their names to read all about it.

Editors note-We have had many questions concerning the Newsletter since we began publishing it. I thought this would be a good time and opportunity to answer as many of the questions as we could at one time. If you have a question that does not get addressed here, please submit it to us, and we will do our best to answer it in a future edition.

Q: What is the purpose of a "Phamily Newsletter" anyway?

A: Well, there are some obvious advantages to a form of communication that keeps family in touch with each other, allows news to be shared equally among family members, and allows one family members to write everyone else in the family at the same time, (such as the letters of Charlie Young and Gerald Phipps in the last Newsletter). The Newsletter was intended to perform those functions. And since the formation of the Phamily Trust, it will have the added benefit of keeping us all up to date on developments within the Trust.

Q: How many Newsletters do you send out?

A: At last count we were sending out between 65-70 Newsletters, with an approximated reading audience of about 130. We base that on the fact that some Newsletters are going out to a single individual, where others are going to families with up to 6 members who are readers and old enough to be interested in reading it. Almost every Newsletter goes to at least two people. Our estimate may actually be a modest one. We will try to come up with a more exact figure at a later date. The thing to remember here is that any time you submit something to the Newsletter, you will be reaching a fairly good sized audience!

Q: Why do you misspell family as "Phamily", and who all gets the N.L.?

A: Well, "Phamily" was just a little "personalizer" based off of the spelling of "Phipps". It is not meant to exclude anyone, but rather just something to set our Newsletter apart from who knows how many other "Family" Newsletters there are out there. Of course anyone who is related due to lineage (Stenberg, Phipps, ect...), or related by marriage, adoption, (or just close family ties/friendship), are all part of our "Phamily", and therefore receive the "Phamily" Newsletter. In other words, if you get a copy of the N.L., then you are in our circle of "Phamily."

Q: Why do you often ask for postage stamps?

A: Well, as you have undoubtedly figured out by now, there is no subscription fee for the N.L. From the very start we have made it one of our primary goals that there would NEVER be a subscription fee for the N.L. However, despite such good intentions, there are still costs involved in writing, printing and mailing out the Newsletter. So what we have asked, is that anyone who likes the Newsletter, and is able to, please just send stamps. Even if you only mailed us one stamp each time you received a copy of the N.L. in the mail, that would at least help defray the costs of the postage.

Q: Why is my name on the mailing list? Do I have to get the Newsletter even if I don't want it?

A: We get our names from lists of family members, (Phipps/Stenberg related), or those who are close family friends (or maybe even distantly related but who are close to our family for some reason or another). Certainly no one is obliged to receive the Newsletter if they don't wish to, and a postcard or short letter stating as much will get your name removed, no questions asked.

Q: What is the farthest place away (distance) that a Newsletter is sent?

A: Currently England is the farthest. In the past, N.L.'s have been sent as far away as Panama and Saudi Arabia. If you have old copies of the N.L. you can probably find those.

Darrell Phipps
Rt. 1 Box 68
Knowles, OK 73847

Dear Family,

Well can you believe it?--already almost a third of the way through 1999! Looks like an odometer about to roll over. Saw the Newsletter on the internet--pretty cool! Sounds like we've already picked up family we didn't realize we had because of it. Dad's been e-mailing with newly found cousin Jennifer Hunt in Oregon.

I'm working now in Liberal, Kansas as an account manager for Rent-A-Center. And on my time off I'm trying to help out my parents every way I can (Lee Phipps and Betty Matthews) who live about 50 miles southeast of Liberal. Between that, the fact I haven't felt like I've had anything newsworthy the family would be interested in to tell, and probably that I'm just a lazy coot to boot has been my reasons for not writing sooner.

But I sure am thankful we have a Family Newsletter still going out, it makes it feel like I'm still connected even when I've not done much on my part to help keep the connections lately. That's why I've sent you a little bit of money to help pay the expense I'm sure that it is to keep a newsletter up and sent to as many people as it is Chann. And for those in the family who are still taking a while to realize it, this is OUR "Family Newsletter," not Channon Phipps personal form letters to everyone--if you get a newsletter, you have a part in the Newsletter. Channon has just been the one willing enough to volunteer his time and effort to a service to the family that everyone would want. So if you have anything you want to share with the rest of the Family--send it on to the Newsletter! If you want to volunteer any other kind of help in keeping it going and growing, I'm sure Chann would love the help. I know I'm not doing all that much, but I'm putting a little bit toward it, and if we all keep putting just a little bit toward it, those pieces will add up to a big and enjoyable Newsletter that keeps us all feeling connected and a part of something good.

Anyway, the events of the last year in my life have been moving down to Oklahoma from Washington (state) in March 98, working for a purebred dog kennel for several months (fun to play with, but not clean up after), then a few months as a construction electrician crew supervisor, and now an account manager at Rent-A-Center. Sounds like I can't keep a job, doesn't it!? Actually there was good reason for each change, and I wasn't fired from any of them--I got good references. I'm doing a little cautious investing on the side in the music business, and trying to invest some time with my brother Buz (Clayton) in a classic car and truck hobby hopefully-to-turn lucrative business if the Lord is willing (and isn't back before then). And on a smaller scale, but another area I hope to expand, I am trying to do things here and there to combat in the culture war we are in now in America, against the increasing immorality. Along those lines I'm also trying to help my Dad build a life-size puppet to be used in an entertaining form of ministry he hopes to be able to do. That's what's going on with me.

Anyone who would like to write me feel free. I try to explain to everyone I ever write to that I tend to be deficient in motivation to hardly ever START correspondence with anyone, but if you write me first I try to maintain an "in-box" from which I will always (eventually) get something back "out" to you! And the more I get from you, the guiltier I get, and the sooner I will probably get back to you. Just some rules of thumb if anyone takes me up on a letter to me!

Lots of Love and Prayer,
Darrell Phipps

Dear Chann and all the Phipps Family and Friends,

This letter is going to have to be shorter and much less informative than I had planned to make it. Time and circumstance have played tricks on me and it seems I can't get my priorities in order.

Warren Jr.'s computer-(we let him and Lesha have it as Warren seems to have more of a need for it than we do since we gave up the business), has been down and I couldn't use it for such a long time. And if you know anything about me at all----you know I don't write letters by hand. I can't read my own handwriting so I most certainly can't expect anyone else to.

Mary and I spent three weeks (lacking two days I think), in the Seattle/Tacoma area just before Christmas. It poured down rain all the time except for about three days, and boy did we get tired of rain. Since we have been home though---no rain or snow or any kind of moisture at all, other than a little sciff of snow a couple of times. We need snow--badly! Anybody got some to spare?

Here's a picture of our grandkids. Joey, Christopher and Anthony. It was fun visiting them, but oh so hard to leave them, knowing how long it might be before we see them again. I guess that's life, but we surely do miss them all.

Mary and I took Christopher to the beach one day while it happened not to be raining and he got to see a whale close up. Well, we all three did, but of course it was really something for him. We drove by a pier that went out over the water a long ways and almost stopped there. But we decided to stop on our way back because we were wanting to go somewhere else first. On the way back though, the pier was packed with people. So we decided to go on when all the people started pointing at something in the water. I happened to see one parking place so I just swung in and parked. We pushed out way through the crowd to see if we could find out what was going on. Then we saw the water moving and knew something big was out there. The whale came up and spouted his water geyser, then went under again to swim right under the pier we were standing on. We were able to look right down at him. He was just barely under the water and did we get a view of him! But---"alas"--we had forgotten our camera, so didn't get a picture one.

Chan, I'm sending another thirty dollars for the abstract. I feel like we need to get that out of there before they charge us a lot of interest or something. After you get a copy or two of the last pages they added, please send the whole thing back to me so I can get it back in the safety deposit box in the bank here in Chama.

I'll have to let this be all for this time, as I have much to do and must get with the program as they say.

Lots of Love and Prayers for Everyone,
Warren and All.

You'll like this peppery flavored split pea soup. The corned beef gives it a distinct and pleasingly different flavor. It's a welcome change of pace. It also uses less sugar, salt, and fat.

In a Dutch oven or soup kettle, combine all ingredients; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 hours or until peas and vegetables are tender. Will make 12 servings. Diabetic exchanges: One 1-cup serving (prepared with low-fat ham and low-sodium bouillon and without salt) equals 2 starch, 1 lean meat; also, 199 calories, 325 mg sodium, 11 mg cholesterol, 32 gm carbohydrate, 15 gm protein, 2 gm fat.

1 bag (1 pound) dry split peas 8 cups water 2 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed 2 large onions, chopped 2 medium carrots, chopped 2 cups cubed cooked corned beef or ham 1/2 cup chopped celery 1 teaspoon rubbed sage 5 teaspoons chicken bouillon granules 1 teaspoon cried majoram 1 teaspoon poultry seasoning 1/2 teaspoon dried basil 1/2 to 1 teaspoon pepper 1/2 teaspoon salt, optional

Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings, thank you, Lord, that I can hear. There are many who are deaf.

Even though I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long as possible, thank you, Lord, that I can see. Many are blind.

Even though I huddle in my bed and put off rising, thank you Lord, that I have the strength to rise. There are many who are bedridden.

Even though the first hour of my day is hectic, when socks are lost, toast is burned and tempers are short, my children are so loud, thank you, Lord, for my family. There are many who are lonely.

Even though our breakfast table never looks like the pictures in magazines and the menu is at times unbalanced, thank you, Lord, for the food we have. There are many who are hungry.

Even though the routine of my job is often monotonous, thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to work. There are many who are jobless.

Even though I grumble and bemoan my fate from day to day and wish my circumstances were not so modest, thank you, Lord, for life.

author unknown

The soul of a child is the loveliest flower
that grows in the garden of God.
Its climb is from weakness to knowledge and power,
to the sky from the clay and the clod.

To beauty and sweetness it grows under care,
Neglected, 'tis ragged and wild.
'Tis a plant that is tender, but wondrously rare--
the sweet, wistful soul of a child.

Be tender, O gardener, and give it its share,
of moisture, of warmth, and of light.
And let it not lack for thy painstaking care,
to protect it from frost and from blight.

A glad day will come when its bloom shall unfold,
it will seem that an angel has smiled.
Reflecting a beauty and sweetness untold,
in the sensitive soul of a child.

--Unknown
--contributed by Mina Young

The print version of the Phamily Newsletter includes some poems written by Mina Arnold Young and Bible Trivia from her web page.

Dear Chain,

Well, I reckun ya quit puttin' out the Phamily Newspapper fer good, 'causin I ain't got one fer pert neer a coon's age I don't imajine its eny yuse in me a writin' to the Phamily Newspapper eny more, seem' as how I only ben gettin em onct a year er so. I reckun its one of my uther kin as is puttin' em out and not you Chain, (since I send my letters ta you), and they ain't ben in 'em. I thowt I'd write onct more just ta see if you was still out there in that Hidey Ho place er othir you was a talkin' about. That place must be close ta that Chamanew, Mecsico, 'causin even ole Ed Percy at the Jenril Store ain't ever heerd of such a place. And he's ben all the way over ta West Virginny. Eny way, I went plum ta Mecsico and nevir heerd enythin abowt it. None of them seniors in Mecslco evir sed nuthin' abowt it neether.

Well, I diden write fer all that, but ta tell ya about whats ben goin on heer lately. And I ain't a talkin abowt me an ole Slingshot, corse we're doing just fine. Slingshot is as onery as evir, an his eyesight ain't what it yused ta be, so that makes 'im more kantankerous than yusul. He kicked ol Hick'ry Suthers in the seat of the pants the othir day thinkin' he was a grizzley baer. Knocked poor Hick'ry kleer thru the henhowse. You nevir heerd such a ruckus in yore life. Chickens and fethers and dust a flyin' evir whare. Hick'ry came out lookin' like he jist hatched from an egg. Had dust an eggshell an egg yoke all over im, and feathirs and straw a stickin' owt of his hare an' shurt an' pants. He weren't hurt nun, but he was shore madder'n a wet hornit. Corse I don't blame Slingshot nun, Hick'ry does sorta look like a baer. Leestways he would if he wayed abowt two er three hunerd more pounds and was abowt 3 or 4 foot taller, wasn't bald bedded and diden tawk with such a skweeky voice. Course Slingshot he don't pay much attinshun ta perticulars like that. Whin he gets skitterish like that evir thing sorta gets bigger than it rilly is, an looks skary to 'im. Now for me, I thowt Hick'ry looked perty fearsom AFTER he came outa the henhowse. He'd grabed a loose board in the henhowse, (one of 'im that he broke with his hedd agoin' thru), and was a fixin' ta pound pore Slingshot, but evin afore I cood git ovir thare ta stop 'im, Slingshot, seem' what he thowt was a giant four-leggid chicken a comm' aftir him, got more skeered than he was the first time. He startid buckin' an a kickin an a braying ta beet the band, an Hick'ry decidid he warn t goin' ta git no whare neer that tarnation of a twister. He just grumbeld sumthin about my "infernal, hardhedded jackass of a mule!" an' stomped off home ta cleen the egg an' fethers off'n 'im. He diden speek ta me fer neer three weeks after that. Corse that was abowt how long it took fer him ta bee abel ta sit down agin. He played checkirs at the Jenril store standin' up fer a spell.

Well what I really wanted ta tell ya abowt though was Big Martha Culpepper an Ole Mister Harkie's billygoat Haywire. Seems as they got ta scrapin' the othir day when Martha was agoin' ovir there ta gossip with ole Missus Harkie. Big Martha ain't one ta pass up a good storie whin she heers one. She's perty good about passin' it out though.

Now Martha was in her Sunday go-ta-meetin' clothes, an of corse Martha she likes ta think of herself as one of them fancy big-city ladies, so she carries around one of them fancy umbrelly thing-a-ma-hoots around with her, and she was wearun one of them fancy city hats that has those little tinkly bells on 'em. But she fergot all about Haywire, the Harkie's billygoat, who has a grate dislikin' fer bells. He came by his dislike fare an sqare though.

The Harkie's yused ta have a big old tomcat named Skooder, an Skooder was as meen a tomcat as you evir did wanta see. Well Skooder he liked ta bully Haywire when he was jist a kid, an he would jump on poor little Haywire whin he was where he couldn't run anywhere. Or else he would chase him down an jump on him and beet up on him perty bad, a spittin' an a growlin' ta beet the band. Skooder always wore a little tinkly bell around his neck, so most of the time Haywire could heer him a'comin, and it always got him scared an excited whinevir he heerd that little tinkly bell comin'. Corse whin he got older he quit takin' it from Skooder, an startin' chasin' him down whin he would heer him comin'. He grew up ta be a perty big billygoat, an Skooder found out that maybe he wasn't so smart fer makin' an enimey outa Haywire. He was perty much sorry for it until the day he died from old age abowt two year ago.

Anyway, that was why the Harkie's named their goat Haywire, causin' evir time he herd a bell, he just when plum haywire, an startid in ta buttin' an a kickin' an just going crazie. He would butt anythin' in his sight that was a movin. It was sorta like those Seniors I saw down in Mexico that would git them cranky bulls all riled up by wavin' that red shirt at em'.

Big Martha knew about Haywire of corse, but she was so proud of that tinkly-bell hat of her'n that she just plum fergot about it, an wint a chargin' up ta see Ol Missus Harkie ta tell her the latest gossup, an git filled in on what little stuff she didn't alredy know. Well, the Harkie's was ovir visitin' at their daughter's house abowt 2 mile down the road, so they wasn't evin home. But Haywire, he was shure home, an whin he heerd that bell I guess he figgerd the ghost of Skooder was a comin' back ta haunt him or somethin', an it made him madder'n a wet hornit in a windstorm. He wint ta chargin' around that howse an the first thing he saw was the south side of Big Martha Culpepper. She was almost up the stares on the porch, an Haywire he figgerd ta help her the rest of the way up, an he did. He helped her up the stares so good she just kept on agoin' whin she got to the door, without stoppin ta knock. Bein' of the partickuler size that Big Martha is, which is extra large, the door it didn't stand a chance. It made good kindlin' aftir that though.

Somehow Big Martha made it through the door with her hat still on, and it was a ringin' out a jamboree by this time. Being pertickularly indisposed at the momint, Big Martha disremembered why Haywire was in such a bad mood, an she didn't take the hat off, or her troubles mighta endid right there. But she was still tryin' ta figger out which end was up, an tryin' ta keep from fallin' apart, whin ol Haywire busted inta her agin. Haywire musta' scooted her six feet across the floor. That's a perty good accomplishmint whin you figger how much Big Martha ways. She let out a whoop that could be heerd cleen in the next county. Haywire busted her good abowt two more times, which browt on two more whoops an a whole mess of bell tinklin'. Haywire was jist gettin' warmed up, an Big Martha was in the kitchin by now, still tryin' ta find her feet in all that. She would jist get abowt halfway up, which presentid a golden opertunity fer Haywire, afore he charged agin, an there she would be, back in the calamities.

Well abowt now, Big Martha is gettin' perty riled up herself, an she desided that her fancy umbrelly might come in handy fer more'n jist keepin' off the rane. She was agoin' ta pound Haywire with it, but it popped open just as he was chargin', an he wint straight threw it with his horns an got it hung up arownd his belly. Well it was abowt now that Big Martha's tinkly hat finally gave out and wint flyin' off her head, jist in time ta ketch a ride with Haywire on his head. Well you can jist imagine how crazy that made Haywire. The hat somehow got hung up in in his horns, an so he musta figgerd Skooder was on top of his head now, tinklin' away somewhere in that hat of Big Martha's. The only good thing abowt it was now he coodn't see enything.

Old Man Briggs lives in a howse right behind the Harkie place, an he was out a hoe'n in his gardin whin he heers this horrible ruckus an screamin' goin' on in the Harkie's howse. He sed it soundid so horribul that he was afeerd ta go ovir there, but finally desided that sombody might be needin' help, so he startid in that direckshun. Well he haden' got very far whin he see's this terribly hideeus, hairy, scary lookin' creechur come crawlin out of the back door of the Harkie place. It neerly skarid him ta death. And thin if that wern't enuff, right aftur that here came Haywire, who was wearin' Big Martha's hat an still had the umbrelly around his belly, the handil stickin' up off his back be- hind the hat like sum kinda weerd, twistid horn. Old Man Briggs sed he thought we wuz bein' invadid by space creeture aliuns or sumthin. He climbed up a tree an sat thare fer pert neer three hours afore his wife cood talk him inta comin' down.Well it turn'd out okay though.

Big Martha she was a little bruzed up, an cood'nt set down fer awhile, but she had considurabul padding, so she was okay aftir only a short spell. Leest ways all but her pride, which took a littul longir ta git well. She sorta lost her taste fer gossup fer awhile. The wirst damige was dun ta the Harkie's howse, but seein' as how it was Haywire that caused all the damige, they didn't hold eny grudjize aginst Big Martha. Old Man Briggs had some furoshus nightmares fer a month or two aftir that. But all in all things has settuld down a bit. Mabey it will stay that way too if'n Slingshot an' Haywire will behave themselves.

Dexter P.

CHANNON