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			 This 
			Saturday morning, an old man here in New Mexico will act just a bit 
			silly again as he has these past 50-odd years on the first Saturday 
			in March. 
 I admit to being the silly old man in this case. So what will I do 
			on Saturday? I’ll open my closet and carefully take down my handmade 
			gold parka that makes me look like a walking bunch of pillows 
			stuffed in a down sleeping bag. Then I’ll walk around and remember 
			seven sled dogs who shared a famous trail with me those many long 
			years ago. They certainly weren’t the best sled dogs in that first 
			Iditarod Dogsled Race from Anchorage to Nome, but they were the best 
			I had. Well, six of them were. I had to borrow a dog to make a team 
			of seven, which was the minimum-sized team that first year.
 
 I didn’t win any of that prize money. In fact, I didn’t make it to 
			Nome. I went about 350 miles and crushed an ankle under the sled 
			runner and a couple of kids who didn’t appear to be old enough to 
			shave flew me and the team to a hospital in Anchorage in a 
			helicopter. The wonderful lady who made that parka for me and ran 
			race headquarters and was my wife at that time was named Pam. She 
			died on Christmas Eve.
 
 For the next five years, I served as a race official. And, after 
			that first year, the minimum-sized team was expanded to nine dogs. I 
			was the only fool, ever, to start that race with only seven dogs.
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            Here, let me bow and introduce myself … Seven-Dog 
			Slim at your service.
 I won’t be out on that trail this year because it’s warmer here in 
			my New Mexico home with the furnace working properly. But part of me 
			will be there when those teams leave Anchorage Saturday morning. 
			Part of me will always be there. Wishing brave dog mushers well 
			doesn’t get old, even if we do. Be careful, guys and gals, and have 
			a safe and wonderful race. It’s a very long way to Nome.
 
 Best wishes from Seven-Dog Slim.
 [Text from file received from 
			Slim Randles]Brought to you by the 
			Anchorage animal shelter, who kept me in good, workable, loving dogs 
			back in the 70s. Thank you.
 
			
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