From the Publisher December 1998 T'were the days before Christmas and all through the lands, Every body was stirring and beating the bands, Developers hurried with interest so low, The contractors racing to beat back the snow, The RLA's looking for places to grow The economy booming for how long we don't know . . . The magazines say the profession is great, Demand is so high, every project seems late, The offices that were once questioning fate, Are searching for people to help with the gait . . . With salaries higher than AIA stiffs, The profession is starting to develop new riffs. The engineers all want to run in the race, The architects trying to stay with the pace. Yet Jill & Joe Newhome are trying with haste, To fill in what once was just wide open space . . . Who will they find to answer their call . . . And now the last days of one thousand years, Are bringing us close to examine our fears, Is it Y2K that will ring in our ears, Or will that loud noise be caused by our tears, Or too many beers, or from all the cheers Of making it into the next millennium. Who will we find to answer our calls . . . . Is it our president who'll get us our high's, I doubt it, since it's he who has blackened the eyes Of those on the cover who stare out from the stone And remind us all that we gave up the throne For something we could not have done on our own, Like develop this land to a place we . . . the people . . . call home. Yes this land shows much promise for those who would dare, To mold and renew it with vigorous care And save it from who would just strip it bare. But remember, development has to happen And since it will, it's up to you to to answer the call And keep the landscape in every project . . . Shalom, God Bless, Merry Christmas and have a Fine '99!