Bill Koshelnyk

1998 Newsletter

The following is a newsletter from Bill Koshelnyk dated December 7, 1998.

Happy Holidays 1998!

Can we really be just one year from the turn of the millennium? To paraphrase the late Sen. Everett Dirkson, a thousand years here, a thousand years there-pretty soon you're talkin' a lot of time. Gee, whatever happened to World War II? But time, as they say, marches on. Our annual Christmas letters seem to come around quicker and quicker. And there are a lot of changes in between.

Our family underwent a major change this year, as Judy set out on the adventure of adult living. Her plunge into the future owes a lot to the past, as she has relocated to-of all places-Colorado Springs, our old stomping ground. After studying photography at Western Michigan University (where, you may recall, she had shared an apartment with her brother, Dan), then working for several months at a Jackson, Michigan advertising agency, she decided to give the picture-taking life a serious try. She's currently a photographer/photo assistant/photo restorer, associated with an excellent commercial studio called Don Jones Photography. She's gaining wonderful experience in a wide variety of advertising, industrial, merchandise, landscape and even fashion photography. She has an apartment in the Westside foothills. And she's enjoying something she hadn't had much of in rustic, isolated Hillsdale: a social life.

Meanwhile, Dan continues his musical studies at Western. He's now in his senior year (though it's likely he'll stay at least an extra semester), and spends copious amounts of time in the recording studio and university radio station, becoming very good at audio production-a useful adjunct to composing, which is his major. The material he's turning out is remarkably professional, and Bill looks forward to exploiting Dan's skill in recording some of those gospel tunes which have been gathering dust since the halcyon days of Company. (This kid's education is going to pay off one way or the other!) Most weekends, Dan holds forth on organ and electronic keyboard at St. Anthony, here in Hillsdale. He'll be involved in serious organ study next semester, and he's looking forward to putting a band together to do some gigging, the next step in his pursuit of a music career.

Kathy experienced a significant change this year. She's no longer inspecting dirty restaurant kitchens-Praise the Lord!-but is now the District Health Agency's demographer, assessing the health-service needs of the community. No more confrontations with cockroaches and surly restaurant operators. Meanwhile, Bill plugs away at his writing: not too many songs these days, but several organizations have benefitted from his freelance services. And of course, he pursues an endless search for literary agents and publishers for his unfolding series of yet-to-be-published novels. (Having lived so long with a writer-29 years now-Kathy petitions heaven frequently on behalf of her artistic children.)

Bill's Dad continues at Mark's Place, the assisted-living facility where he resides in nearby Hudson. Pop is pretty restricted these days. Getting around is difficult for him; a recent lunch at McDonald's was his first trip out in several months. Coming to our house is especially vexing. There's always the danger of being knocked over by Gypsy, the exuberant golden retriever who wandered into our lives Thanksgiving weekend of 1997 and has been with us for over a year now. (That is to say, she's with us when she's not escaping to chase the deer in our woods; she just loves to romp with Bambi.)

The highlight of our year was last summer's trip to Colorado. That was a sentimental journey in several ways. It was the first time back for Kathy in the 12 years since we moved to Michigan. There was the quality time spent with Judy, of course. And we got to visit a few parts of the state we'd never seen when we lived there. We also renewed contact with some dear old friends. A great time, if much too short.

And that returns us to the subject of time-marching, marching, marching. May your time be plentiful. And may the joys of this holiday season (not to mention the coming millennium) last for at least a thousand years.

Merry Christmas!
The Koshelnyks

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