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Prairie du Chien graduate flies American flag over Iraq
A 1995 Prairie du Chien High School graduate flew a memorable mission over Iraq this Christmas Eve past. Tim Dyer of the 176th Expeditionary Fighter Squadron of the Air National Guard unit in Madison flew his F-16 while carrying the American flag over Iraq as a symbol of freedom and democracy. In fact, Dyer sent the American flag and a certificate to the students at Bluff View Intermediate School in Prairie du Chien. The certificate states in part, "This is to certify this United States of America Flag has been flown over the skies of Iraq on a combat mission in direct support of Operation Iraqi Freedom." Dyer, who in February was promoted to Captain, served in Iraq as a fighter pilot from Nov. 30, 2004 to Jan. 12, 2005. While Dyer was stationed in Iraq, Sue McDonald's fifth grade class at Bluff View began corresponding with him as part of a Veteran's Day project in which students talked to several veterans of America's past wars as well as the ongoing Operation Iraqi Freedom. Tim Garcia was the fifth grader who initially corresponded with Dyer. Later, the whole class became involved and through e-mail asked Dyer several questions in an effort to learn more about Tim and his missions. "Overall, I like my job and love to fly the F-16. It makes me proud to serve my country, and I am more than happy to help our troops and the citizens of Iraq," Tim told the students. "It was very hard to be away from my wife and family, especially over Christmas and New Years. It is a small price to pay for freedom. I realize now more than ever what a great country we get to live in. Sometimes you don't know how good you have it until it's gone. Enjoy your freedom!" The students learned that Tim, the son of Marlene and Roger Dyer of Prairie du Chien, flew night missions in an F-16 while wearing night-vision goggles, which amplify the moonlight and starlight about 3,000 times. Each mission lasted about 10-12 hours. The F-16 is about 30 feet wide and 45 feet long and weighs between 30,000 to 45,000 pounds, depending upon fuel and weapons loaded. There is enough room for one person in an F-16, which can reach a maximum speed of MACH 2.05, or more than twice the speed of sound. The speed of sound is approximately 700 miles per hour, depending upon temperature and other factors. At 1,400 miles per hour, Tim's F-16 is traveling at more than 20 miles per minute, which means that he could fly over Prairie du Chien and be over La Crosse in less than three minutes. An F-16 can fly up to 50,000 feet, or about 10 miles above the ground. Tim said that although he talked to troops on the ground in Iraq on numerous occasions, they never needed him to use any of his weapons. "In peacetime, I have shot the gun, fired missiles and dropped numerous bombs on practice ranges in the United States," Tim told the students. "That is fun. However, every time we use weapons, we have to meticulously dissect how well we did and how we can improve. This can take many hours and occurs after we have landed. Believe it or not, for every one hour of flying we spend about two hours on the ground finding ways to improve on the flight for next time." Tim told the Bluff View students that the F-16 has a gattling machine gun that fires 500 bullets, each 20 millimeters in diameter, in five seconds. It can carry radar and heat guided missiles in addition to laser and GPS guided bombs. On covering personal issues, Tim said that there is not much space in the F-16 cockpit, so he brings along compact food such as protein bars and sandwiches on long flights. Tim uses a visor to protects his eyes from the sun and he carries a nine millimeter handgun for self defense in case he has to eject . Tim, along with other F-16 pilots, always fly their missions in formation. While in Iraq, Tim slept by day and completed the majority of his missions at night. The room that Tim stayed in while in the Middle East was in an air-conditioned trailer and was only big enough to have a twin bed and a desk.

An alumnus of Prairie du Chien High School, Tim graduated from Embury-Riddle Aeronautical School in December of 1999. He joined the 176th Expeditionary Fighter Squadron of the Air National Guard unit in Madison in February of 2001. Tim was commissioned as an officer and attended Air Force pilot training at Laughlin Air Force Base in Del Rio, Texas and Kelly Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. Tim is now stationed at Truax Field in Madison.

Local company struggles with mistaken identity
Homeward Bound Services Inc., of Drexel, Penn., is making trouble for Homeward Bound Inc., of Lancaster, Wis. The Pennsylvania company with a very similar name has been ordered to refund more than $650,000 to Wisconsin seniors and pay a $162,000 forfeiture as a result of selling "assisted living contracts" to seniors without complying with state insurance regulations. "We've had people asking if we are affiliated with this company," said Rita Schmitz, who along with her husband owns the Lancaster company that also has offices in Prairie du Chien and Baraboo. Schmitz want to make it perfectly clear that her company coincidentally happens to share a similar name, but has no connection to the Pennsylvania organization. "We have to be pro-active about getting our name out there," she adds. Lancaster-based Homeward Bound Inc. and it's sister company Homeward Bound Home Health Inc., have been providing home care services for the elderly in an eight-county region of southwest Wisconsin for the past 20 years and have earned the trust of people in those communities. But the confusion over the name with the discredited Pennsylvania company is proving to be a challenge. According to Schmitz, her company has put out a letter to clarify their identity to their clients, employees and area nursing homes and hospitals they work with. "The big distinction is that they [the Penn. company] were selling a contract for services, and not delivering those services," Schmitz said. Schmitz says the confusion is understandable. "People just hear the name, not that the company is based in Pennsylvania," she added. The staff at the local Homeward Bound company will likely continue to struggle with the identity crises. The Pennsylvania company has appealed to the Dane County Circuit Court to contest the Commissioner's order, so the name Homeward Bound will remain in the news.

"The public should be aware that these kinds of schemes are being sold," said the Commissioner's spokesperson Eileen Mallow.

A rookie goes fly fishing Recalling a summer afternoon in anticipation of season opener 
Fly fishing has always tickled my curiosity. Perhaps it's the intrigue of pursuing a quarry that lies hidden under the surface, like the watery grave of the Titanic or the legend of Loch Ness. Or maybe it's the considerable charisma of actor Brad Pitt, who starred in the movie, "A River Runs Through It." In either case, I couldn't pass up Dennis Ciesielski's invitation to go fly fishing, even though I would be hard pressed to tell you the difference between a tippet and a tip up. Dennis is a tenured professor of English at UW-Platteville, but from May through September, Wisconsin's trout season, it's his creativity with a fly rod that fills his sentences with passion. My own short course in the art of fly fishing began on a Wednesday in late last August, an evening seemingly meant for communing with water judging by the placid Mississippi River bordering my journey north to meet Dennis. Approaching his house, my image of Dr. Ciesielski standing before a blackboard complete with tweed jacket and that professorial gaze was soon to be shattered. There, in the driveway, was a man standing beside a Nissan pickup with Khaki shorts and a bucket hat pulled over his head. Did I have the right house? Yes. The fishing gear protruding from the back of the pickup and a wave from Dennis told me I had. After outfitting me with waders that made me look and feel like a two-year old in cowboy boots, we piled into the Nissan for the short journey to Coon Valley. I could tell you the name of the spring creek, but then I'd have to swear each of you into fellowship of fly fishermen, who guard their fishing haunts as chefs guard their favorite recipes. We can say that it's near Coon Valley, among the gently sloping hills that define the alluring landscape along highway 14. After parking the Nissan next to the bridge spanning our appointed stream, Dennis gave a quick introduction to my fly fishing tackle. I would be employing a 5wt St. Croix pro-graphite fly rod with a floating weight forward line, which to a clueless rookie like myself, meant about as much as the ingredients to a spinach soufflé. Dennis then tied a soft hackle hare's ear onto the tippet, a fly he had tied himself late at night while musing about the finicky appetites of trout. To an occasional pan fisherman like myself, I did notice the simple elegance of the equipment now entrusted to my hands; a rod as light as a magician's wand, and tackle so economical that didn't require a suitcase to haul it. We hopped a barbwire fence and cattle gate, then made our way downstream. Dennis had planned to start me out on a wide bend in the stream, a location forgiving of errant casts and awkward backswings. Another fisherman was already working that area, so Dennis politely inquired, "Mind if we play through?" The man nodded consent, and we respectfully navigated a wide path around him, as we might a worshiper kneeling at a church pew. Just below that bend, in a narrow section of stream unsuited for a novice, Dennis noticed the seemingly spontaneous emanation of concentric circles on the water's surface, the telltale sign of trout feeding. Making a mental note of the activity that would serve him well later that evening, Dennis graciously divulged his discovery to the next angler we happened upon. Finally arriving to a section of river clear of obstacles and other fishermen, I received my introduction into the art of casting. Dennis patiently explained the critical timing involved in completing the "loops" preceding the actual cast, a series of gentle arcs with ever-increasing circumference. As he demonstrated his verbal instructions, I marveled at his grace of movement and efficiency of energy, able to place the fly finally with a flick of the wrist as subtle as the nod of the head he used to indicate his chosen target. Standing knee deep in the middle of the stream, Dennis was in his element, matching the rhythm of the water with the stroke of his arms, like a conductor standing before an orchestra. By comparison, my first attempts were clumsy, arms flailing like a motorist in distress, my loops looking more like frantic windsocks hung in a hurricane. After some remedial instruction and encouragement from Dennis to concentrate on simpler casts, I soon settled into a system sufficient to place a fly in the general direction of my intent. Dennis quietly worked his way back upstream toward the activity noted earlier, leaving me to my own designs and methods. A quiet descended around me as surely as the sun descended over the western hill, a silence of the surrounding valley that gave resonance to the gurgling brook as it tumbled and twisted its way toward eventual union with the Mississippi. Standing on the inner radius of a sharp bend in the stream, feeling the force of the water coursing between my feet, watching my lure as it gripped the current between casts, I sensed the attraction this endeavor holds for so many. As darkness descended, and I could no longer see the tenuous web of filament that joined lure with me, it seemed as though I was casting in my imagination, the gentle pull of the current coming to me like the tug of emotion felt in a dream. In "The River Why," author David James Duncan describes an "Equilibrium derived from a kind of inner balance: it transmitted itself from the soul to the mind, and from the mind to the body." Using equilibrium, "fishermen could hook the biggest fish that swam and still coax them at last into their waiting hands." Perhaps possessing this equilibrium, Dennis was feeling more than the tug of the current. He returned from his trek upstream with one nice-sized brown trout, having released four others back into the stream to coax on another day. Although not as fortunate on this day, I can tell you that walking back in the dark to the Nissan parked beside this ribbon of moonlight, I was the one hooked, captured by this incurable affliction called fly fishing.

Rural Ferryville woman and daughter killed in accident
On February 22 at 5:42 p.m. the Crawford County Sheriff's Department was notified of a vehicle that went off the roadway. The accident was on County Highway C just west of Chellevold Road in Freeman Township. When emergency crews arrived on the scene they found the victims to be deceased. Driver of the vehicle was Sherry Cline, 37 and passenger Jessica Cline, 16, both of rural Ferryville. During investigation it was learned that both subjects were not wearing safetybelts. The accident remains under investigation by the Wisconsin State Patrol and Crawford County Sheriff's Department. Assisting at the scene were Ferryville First Responders, Occooch Mountain Rescue Squad, Wisconsin State Patrol, Garrity Funeral Home and Bob's Towing. Rural Ferryville woman and daughter dead in auto accident