[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:  To: [email protected]  From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]  
Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2006 08:59:07 +0700 (WIT)  Subject: Re: [IA-ITB] Fwd: 
Baju-baju yang menipu  Cerita ini sudah beredar sejak lama dan sudah dibantah 
kebenarannya berdasarkan keterangan dari stanford univ. nya. Coba tengok: 
http://www.truthorfiction.com/rumors/s/stanford.htm   Salam,  NS  Mico Siahaan 
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:  To: [email protected]  From: Mico Siahaan 
<[EMAIL PROTECTED]>  Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2006 09:37:02 +0700  Subject: Re: 
[IA-ITB] Fwd: Baju-baju yang menipu  Cerita yang bagus, namun sayang bukan 
kisah nyata: Dikutip dari situs Stanford University  The Rejection That Led to 
the Founding of Stanford University – Fiction!  Summary of the eRumor:  
According to the story, two “country hicks” came to Harvard and wanted to talk 
with the president.  A haughty secretary resisted the couple and made them wait 
for hours.  In exasperation, she finally asked the
 president to see the visitors, which he did if for no other reason to get rid 
of them.  The couple told him their son had attended Harvard for a year and he 
had loved it, but had been killed in an accident and they wanted to build a 
memorial to him.  The president discouraged them, saying they couldn’t erect a 
memorial to every student who had died.  The couple said they were thinking of 
donating for an entire building in their son’s honor.  The president 
discouraged them and mentioned how much all of the buildings at Harvard were 
worth.  The lady commented to her husband that if that was all it took to build 
a university, they ought to construct their own.  So...Mr. and Mrs. Leland 
Stanford went to Palo Alto, California and built a school in honor of their 
son...a memorial to a student that Harvard no longer cared about.
  The Truth:  According to Stanford University, this eRumor is not true.  
Leland Stanford was once governor of California and in 1876, he bought the 
first of what would become more than 8,000 acres of land on the San Francisco 
peninsula.  Leland and Jane Stanford had one son, Leland, Jr., but he never 
attended Harvard.  He died at the age of 15 on a family trip to Italy, but from 
typhoid fever, not from an accident.  Within a few hours of his son’s death, 
Stanford said to his wife, “The children of California shall be our children.”  
That was the beginning of Stanford University, according to the official 
account.
  A real example of the Rumor as it has appeared on the Internet:   True Story  
A lady in a faded gingham dress and her husband, dressed in a homespun 
threadbare suit, stepped off the train in Boston and walked timidly without an 
appointment into the Harvard University President’s outer office. The secretary 
could tell in a moment that such backwoods, country hicks had no business at 
Harvard and probably didn’t even deserve to be in Cambridge. She frowned. “We 
want to see the President,” the man said softly.
  “He’ll be busy all day,” the secretary snapped.
  “We’ll wait,” the lady replied. For hours, the secretary ignored them, hoping 
that the couple would finally become discouraged and go away. They didn’t and 
the secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the President, 
even though it was a chore she always regretted.
  “Maybe if they just see you for a few minutes, they’ll leave,” she told him. 
He sighed in exasperation and nodded. Someone of his importance obviously 
didn’t have the time to spend with them, but he detested gingham dresses and 
homespun suits cluttering up his outer office.
  The President, stern-faced with dignity, strutted toward the couple. The lady 
told him, “We had a son who attended Harvard for one year. He loved Harvard. He 
was happy here. But about a year ago, he was accidentally killed. And my 
husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him, somewhere on campus.”
  The President wasn’t touched, he was shocked. “Madam,” he said gruffly. “We 
can’t put up a statue for every person who attended Harvard and died. If we 
did, this place would look like a cemetery.”
  “Oh, no,” the lady explained quickly. “We don’t want to erect a statue. We 
thought we would like to give a building to Harvard.”
  The president rolled his eyes. He glanced at the gingham dress and homespun 
suit, then exclaimed, “A building! Do you have any earthly idea how much a 
building costs? We have over seven and a half million dollars in the physical 
plant at Harvard.”
  For a moment the lady was silent. The president was pleased. He could get rid 
of them now. And the lady turned to her husband and said quietly, “Is that all 
it costs to start a university? Why don’t we just start our own?” Her husband 
nodded.
  The President’s face wilted in confusion and bewilderment. And Mr. and Mrs. 
Leland Stanford walked away, traveling to Palo Alto, California where they 
established the university that bears their name, a memorial to a son that 
Harvard no longer cared about.
  You can easily judge the character of others by how they treat those who can 
do nothing for them or to them.
  For more information: 
http://www.stanford.edu/home/stanford/history/begin.html Stanford website with 
details on the beginning:
  Stanford University History  The Founding of the University
  Prologue  In November 1769, Captain Gaspar de Portola’s expedition to find 
and fortify the port of Monterey for Spain found instead San Francisco Bay. The 
party worked its way down the peninsula and camped on the bank of San 
Francisquito Creek near the giant California Coast Redwood that later travelers 
came to call El Palo Alto, or “the high tree” in Spanish. The tall redwood was 
a familiar landmark to the native Ohlone Indians.
  From this campsite, on which one corner of the Stanford campus is now 
situated, Portola’s reconnoitering parties explored the area. Later, from this 
same campsite, Francisco de Ortega explored the eastern shore of the Bay. The 
old redwood, twin-trunked and well over 100 feet high, was visible for miles.
  In 1876, former California Governor Leland Stanford purchased 650 acres of 
Rancho San Francisquito for a country home and began the development of his 
famous Palo Alto Stock Farm for trotting horses. He later bought adjoining 
properties to bring his farm to more than 8,000 acres, land that eventually 
became the Stanford campus. The little town that started to grow across El 
Camino Real (the old Spanish “King’s Road”) from the university also took the 
name Palo Alto.
  Today El Palo Alto is rooted precariously on the east bank of San 
Francisquito Creek, close to the old Southern Pacific Railroad tracks. In 1887, 
a winter flood rushing down the creek tore off one of the redwood’s twin 
trunks, but half of the venerable tree lives on, a gaunt and time-scarred 
monument. From Stanford’s beginning, El Palo Alto has been the university’s 
symbol and the centerpiece of its official seal.
  The Birth of the University  On October 1, 1891, Stanford University opened 
its doors after six years of planning and building. In the early morning hours, 
construction workers were still preparing the Inner Quadrangle for the opening 
ceremonies. The great arch at the western end had been backed with panels of 
red and white cloth to form an alcove where the dignitaries would sit. Behind 
the stage was a life-size portrait of Leland Stanford, Jr., in whose memory the 
university was founded.
  About 2,000 seats, many of them sturdy classroom chairs, were set up in the 
3-acre Quad, and they soon proved insufficient for the growing crowd. By 
midmorning, people were streaming across the brown fields on foot. Riding 
horses, carriages and farm wagons were hitched to every fence and at half past 
ten the special train from San Francisco came puffing almost to the university 
buildings on the temporary spur that had been used during construction.
  Just before 11 a.m., Leland and Jane Stanford mounted to the stage. As Mr. 
Stanford unfolded his manuscript and laid it on the large Bible that was open 
on the stand, Mrs. Stanford linked her left arm in his right and held her 
parasol to shelter him from the rays of the midday sun. He began in measured 
phrases: 
  “In the few remarks I am about to make, I speak for Mrs. Stanford, as well as 
myself, for she has been my active and sympathetic coadjutor and is co-grantor 
with me in the endowment and establishment of this University...”
  What manner of people were this man and this woman, who had the intelligence, 
the means, the faith and the daring to plan a major university in Pacific soil, 
far from the nation’s center of culture – a university that broke from the 
classical tradition of higher learning?
  Leland Stanford  A story of Stanford, the university, is not complete without 
a history of Stanford, the man. The fifth of eight children, Leland Stanford 
was born in 1824 at the family home on a farm near Albany, New York. Hard work 
and schooling filled his early years and in 1848, after three years in an 
Albany law firm, he was admitted to practice. In search of greater opportunity, 
he went to Port Washington, Wisconsin, on Lake Michigan, to hang out his 
shingle. Two years later he married Jane Eliza Lathrop, daughter of a 
well-to-do Albany merchant. His practice in Port Washington was successful but 
in 1852, after a fire wiped out his office and $3,000 library, his pioneer 
spirit sprung into high gear and he joined his five brothers in their 
mercantile business in the gold fields of California. Leaving his wife in 
Albany, he went to California by way of the Isthmus. He spent two years in the 
Stanford Brothers’ branch store in Michigan Bluff, 30 miles northeast of
 Auburn. Life was hard. Stanford slept on the counter under buffalo robes with 
his boots for a pillow except when flood waters forced him to hoist sugar 
barrels and other articles to the counter for safekeeping. Nevertheless, 
Stanford prospered. In three years he bought out the Stanford Brothers’ store 
in Sacramento and he returned to Albany for his wife.
  Stanford became the most active member of a small group organizing the 
Republican Party in California and was the party candidate for state treasurer 
in 1857, and for governor in 1859. There had been no chance for election, but 
the party was gaining a foothold. In 1860, he stumped the state for Abraham 
Lincoln and then met with the new president in Washington. In 1861, the 
California Republican convention nominated Stanford for governor, and he won 
decisively after stumping the state with Jane Stanford at his side. Stanford 
succeeded not only in holding California in the Union, but also saw to it that 
the state contributed substantially to Union victory. Stanford later would be 
elected to the U.S. Senate in 1885. He was reelected in 1891, but died in 1893.
  Stanford’s part in building the first transcontinental railroad was of even 
greater importance in keeping America united as a republic. San Francisco 
businessmen, well satisfied with the profits they were making from sea routes, 
turned their backs on the hazardous undertaking. The steep, snow-covered slopes 
of the Sierra Nevada could just as easily turn the builders into bankrupt 
paupers as princes of industry. But a group of Sacramento merchants took the 
high-stakes gamble and formed the Central Pacific Railroad company to lay track 
eastward to connect with the westward-building Union Pacific.
  Stanford, who had demonstrated business acumen and qualities of leadership, 
was elected president of the venture. Congress voted generous land grants and 
bonded loans, but the main sums had to be supplied by the companies. Stanford, 
Collis P. Huntington, Mark Hopkins and Charles Crocker emerged as the “Big 
Four” who risked their financial hides and pushed their crews to meet the Union 
Pacific at a point as far east as possible. On May 10, 1869, trains of the two 
railroads drew together at Promontory, Utah. Leland Stanford wielded a sledge 
of Nevada silver to tap a spike of California gold into a polished laurel tie. 
The blows heralding completion of the transcontinental railroad were 
transmitted over telegraph wire attached to the spike.
  Leland Stanford Jr.’s birthplace is now a State Park. 
  A few days later, on May 14, the Stanfords’ only child, Leland, celebrated 
his first birthday, and before he was two the parents and toddler had made 
their first trip across the continent by rail. Soon the Stanfords were building 
a great mansion in San Francisco in a part of town that was to acquire the name 
of Nob Hill. Later, in 1876, they bought the first parcel of land on the San 
Francisco Peninsula that would be their celebrated Palo Alto Stock Farm and 
later the site of Stanford University.
  One of Stanford’s greatest pleasures was to drive down the mile-long 
eucalyptus-bordered roadway from the Palo Alto home to his breeding 
establishment for trotting horses. Using his own theories of blood lines and 
training, Stanford developed trotters that set 19 world records. One of the old 
red barns with its picturesque white trim still stands and near it, affixed to 
the base of a bronze statue of a racing horse, is a plaque listing the 
achievements of Stanford trotters. One of these was Electioneer, sire of nine 
Palo Alto world champions. He was an unproved stallion when Stanford bought him 
against the advice of experts. 
  Young Leland loved the life on the Palo Alto ranch. He kept dogs and horses, 
knew all about the farm machinery and built a miniature railroad with 400 feet 
of track on the grounds of the country home. He was a tall, slender youth – 
taller at 15 than his father’s 5-foot-10 – and studious. He spoke French 
fluently and, on trips to Europe with his parents, developed his passion for 
collecting in art and archaeology.
  The family was in Italy in 1884 when Leland contracted typhoid fever. He was 
thought to be recovering, but on March 13 at the Hotel Bristol in Florence, 
Leland’s bright and promising young life came to an end, two months before his 
16th birthday. 
  Stanford, who had remained at Leland’s bedside continuously, fell into a 
troubled sleep the morning the boy died. When he awakened he turned to his wife 
and said, 
  “The children of California shall be our children.”
  These words were the real beginning of Stanford University. 
  The Founding Grant  The Stanfords returned to America in May and, before 
proceeding to Palo Alto, visited Cornell, Yale, Harvard and the Massachusetts 
Institute of Technology. They talked with President Eliot of Harvard about 
three ideas: a university at Palo Alto, a large institution in San Francisco 
combining a lecture hall and a museum, and a technical school. Asked which of 
these seemed most desirable, Eliot answered, a university. Mrs. Stanford 
inquired how much the endowment should be, in addition to land and buildings, 
and he replied, not less than $5 million. A silence followed. Finally, Mr. 
Stanford said with a smile, “Well, Jane, we could manage that, couldn’t we?” 
and a grave Mrs. Stanford nodded her assent.
  They settled on creating a great university, one that, from the outset, was 
untraditional: co-educational, in a time when most were all-male; 
non-denominational, when most were associated with a religious organization; 
avowedly practical, producing “cultured and useful citizens” when most were 
concerned only with the former.
  Although they consulted with several of the presidents of leading 
institutions, the founders were not content to model their university after 
eastern schools. “Of all the young men who come to me with letters of 
introduction from friends in the East, the most helpless are college young 
men,” Stanford said. As the Stanfords’ thoughts matured, their ideas of 
“practical education” enlarged until they arrived at the concept of producing 
cultured and useful citizens who were especially prepared for personal success 
in their chosen professions. 
  In a statement of the case for a liberal education, Stanford wrote, 
  “I attach great importance to general literature for the enlargement of the 
mind and for giving business capacity. I think I have noticed that technically 
educated boys do not make the most successful businessmen. The imagination 
needs to be cultivated and developed to assure success in life. A man will 
never construct anything he cannot conceive.”
  On November 11, 1885, Stanford called for several stenographers to come from 
San Francisco to the country house. Seated on the veranda, he dictated the 
Founding Grant without notes. The document, providing the endowment and 
defining the scope, responsibilities and organization of the university, was 
accepted by the 24 members of the first Board of Trustees on Nov. 14 in San 
Francisco. The Founding Grant stands today as the university’s “constitution.” 
It stipulates that the objectives of the university are: 
  “to qualify students for personal success and direct usefulness in life; and 
to promote the public welfare by exercising an influence on behalf of humanity 
and civilization, teaching the blessings of liberty regulated by law, and 
inculcating love and reverence for the great principles of government as 
derived from the inalienable rights of man to life, liberty, and the pursuit of 
happiness.”
  Having been elected a U.S. Senator earlier in 1885, Stanford left for 
Washington shortly after the Founding Grant was made public. However, the 
following summer he and Mrs. Stanford were back at Palo Alto conferring with 
Francis A. Walker, president of MIT, and Frederick Law Olmsted, the eminent 
landscape architect who created Central Park in New York. Olmsted developed the 
general plan for long, low buildings connected by arcades to form a double 
quad. The actual drawing of the plans was entrusted to Charles Allerton 
Coolidge, then 28 years old, the youngest partner of the prominent Boston firm 
Shepley, Rutan and Coolidge, successors to their mentor H. H. Richardson, 
widely acclaimed for his revival of Romanesque architecture. 
  In April 1887, Coolidge met Stanford with preliminary sketches. The Stanfords 
surprised the architect by insisting that the cornerstone be laid on May 14, 
the anniversary of Leland Jr.’s birth. 
  “What I did,” Coolidge recalled later,”was to order a spade and a brass band 
immediately.” On May 14, 300 guests attended the laying of the cornerstone. 
There was no brass band, but a choir. Stanford called his wife to his side for 
the ceremony and, though tears streamed down her cheeks the entire time, she 
held her head high. It was both a solemn and a joyous occasion. The sandstone 
block and bronze plaque was built into a corner of the first Inner Quad 
building, west of where Memorial Church would eventually stand.
  The architect was given a small building on the ranch to house his drafting 
boards and a month later more than 100 men were at work on the university 
foundations. But the job moved more slowly than anticipated, partly because of 
Stanford’s senate duties in Washington and a trip to Europe in 1888 for his 
health. Finally the opening date was set for October 1, 1891, but it was not 
until March of that year that the Stanfords named the university president.
  Stanford’s First President  “Go to the University of Indiana; there you will 
find the president, an old student of mine, David Starr Jordan, one of the 
leading scientific men of the country, possessed of a most charming power of 
literary expression, with a remarkable ability in organization and blessed with 
good sound sense. Call him.” 
  This was the advice that President Andrew D. White of Cornell gave to the 
Stanfords, who earlier had tried to recruit him as the university’s first 
president. That same evening the Stanfords headed their private railroad car 
for Bloomington. 
  “My first impressions of Leland Stanford were extremely favorable, for even 
on such slight acquaintance he revealed an unusually attractive personality,” 
Dr. Jordan wrote. “His errand he explained directly and clearly.... His 
education ideas, it appeared, corresponded very closely with my own.” 
  Dr. Jordan went home to discuss the offer with his wife. They were intrigued 
by the possibilities of a new university with a new academic plan in a pioneer 
state and decided that same day, just six months before the university opened, 
to accept. “The possibilities were so challenging to one of my temperament that 
I could not decline,” he said.
  For his part, Stanford told a reporter back in California, “I might have 
found a more famous educator, but I desired a comparatively young man who would 
grow up with the University.” Jordan, a renowned ichthyologist, was 40.
  The choice was a happy one, for Dr. Jordan and Stanford University grew 
strong together in his 22 years as president.
  The prediction of a New York newspaper that for years to come Stanford 
professors would “lecture in marble halls to empty benches” was immediately 
disproved. About 250 students were initially expected, but 465, a third of them 
from out of California, were on hand opening day. Dr. Jordan told them and the 
throng that assembled for the ceremonies: 
  “It is for us as teachers and students in the University’s first year to lay 
the foundations of a school which may last as long as human civilization.... It 
is hallowed by no traditions; it is hampered by none. Its finger-posts all 
point forward.” 
  The first student body consisted of 559 men and women, and the original 
faculty of 15, seven of them originally from Cornell University, was expanded 
to 49 for the second year. From the beginning, Stanford was co-educational and, 
like Johns Hopkins and Cornell, followed the German model of providing graduate 
as well as undergraduate instruction and stressing research along with 
teaching. Dr. Jordan installed the major subject system with electives at the 
outset, rather than the more common rigid curriculum of classical studies. 
  There were many challenges. More professors had to be recruited, housing was 
inadequate, microscopes and books were late in arriving from the East, but the 
work of the first year was noteworthy. Mrs. Stanford wrote from Europe in the 
summer of 1892, “Even our fondest hopes have been realized.” She could not know 
of the deep troubles that were just ahead.
  Leland Stanford, in failing health, died in his sleep at the Palo Alto home 
early the morning of June 21, 1893. The funeral was held in the open air of the 
University’s Inner Quad. His death threw the university into a severe financial 
crisis.
  Jane Stanford  Mrs. Stanford was from the beginning a full partner with her 
husband in the founding of the university. Yet she had remained in his shadow. 
Even on the opening day, she could not bring herself to deliver the speech she 
had prepared. It was found among her papers after her death.
  Her husband’s death thrust the full financial responsibility for the 
university on Mrs. Stanford, and she took it on with unsuspected strength. The 
country was in severe financial panic and her husband’s estate was tied up in 
probate. Several of her advisers urged her to close the university, at least 
temporarily. 
  After two weeks in seclusion, Mrs. Stanford sent for Dr. Jordan and told him 
she had no intention of closing the doors of the university. Together they set 
about to keep the university functioning. Expenses were cut. Faculty salaries 
were reduced and, where possible, new appointments were canceled. A 
long-forgotten insurance policy for $10,000 on the life of Senator Stanford 
tided them over one hump. The probate court granted Mrs. Stanford $10,000 per 
month allowance from proceeds of the estate, approximately what she was 
accustomed to spending on the maintenance of her several households. She 
reduced her personal staff from 17 to 3 and her monthly expenses to $350 (about 
the equivalent to a professor’s monthly salary), and turned over the remainder 
to Dr. Jordan to keep the university, now her primary “household,” in operation.
  Just when it appeared that piecemeal arrangements would see the university 
through, in May 1894 the estate was tied up indefinitely by a federal 
government claim of $15 million growing out of construction loans to the 
Central Pacific Railroad. The loans were not yet due, but the government sought 
to establish stockholder liability. Mrs. Stanford journeyed to Washington and 
appealed to President Cleveland for prompt action by the courts. Nearly two 
years later, on March 2, 1896, the Supreme Court rejected the federal 
government’s claims against the Stanford estate. There was a drizzling rain on 
the campus the day of the verdict, but it did not hamper a mighty, joyous 
student demonstration. 
  The estate was released from probate in 1898 and the following year, after 
selling her railroad holdings, Mrs. Stanford turned over $11 million to the 
university trustees. What Dr. Jordan termed “six pretty long years” had come to 
a close. During that time, “the future of a university hung by a single thread, 
the love of a good woman,” Dr. Jordan said.
  For his part, Dr. Jordan had kept the university at a high level of 
achievement, partly by skillfully applying the small funds available and partly 
by his inspirational personality. Now he expected to move quickly to build the 
academic program he had envisioned for the university. Mrs. Stanford, on the 
other hand, was eager to see constructed during her lifetime the rest of the 
buildings that she and Senator Stanford had planned. Over the next several 
years, the Outer Quadrangle was completed, a separate chemistry building was 
constructed and the magnificent Memorial Church was built. As Mrs. Stanford’s 
tribute to her husband, the church was erected as the centerpiece of the Inner 
Quad. The location had been reserved for its construction from the beginning. 
  In 1903, 10 years after Senator Stanford’s death, Mrs. Stanford relinquished 
to the university trustees control over the university’s affairs that were 
given to her, the surviving founder, in the Grant of Endowment. The trustees 
elected her to their numbers and made her their president. Mrs. Stanford, 
satisfied now that she had built well and adequately, turned with vigor to the 
academic program. She addressed the board: 
  “Let us not be afraid to outgrow old thoughts and ways and dare to think on 
new lines as to the future work under our care.” 
  But it was not for her to follow this path. Jane Stanford died on Feb. 28, 
1905, while on vacation in Honolulu. She was 76. Although an autopsy revealed 
evidence of heart disease that may have caused a heart attack, there are 
persistent stories that suggest she may have been poisoned. After funeral 
services in Memorial Church, students conveyed the casket to the family 
mausoleum in the Arboretum.
  Dispelling an Urban Myth   You may have heard a story that a lady in “faded 
gingham” (Jane Stanford) and a man dressed in a “homespun threadbare suit” 
(Leland Stanford) went to visit the president of Harvard, were rebuffed, and as 
a result, went on to found their own university in Palo Alto. This untrue story 
is an urban myth, and Stanford’s archivist has prepared a response for those 
desiring more information:
  For what it is worth, there was a book written by the then Harvard 
president’s son that may have started the twist on actual events.
  Leland Stanford Junior was just short of his 16th birthday when he died of 
typhoid fever in Florence, Italy on March 13, 1884. He had not spent a year at 
Harvard before his death, nor was he “accidentally killed.” Following Leland 
Junior’s death, the Stanfords determined to found an institution in his name 
that would serve the “children of California.”
  Detained on the East Coast following their return from Europe, the Stanfords 
visited a number of universities and consulted with the presidents of each. The 
account of their visit with Charles W. Eliot at Harvard is actually recounted 
by Eliot himself in a letter sent to David Starr Jordan (Stanford’s first 
president) in 1919. At the point the Stanfords met with Eliot, they apparently 
had not yet decided about whether to establish a university, a technical school 
or a museum. Eliot recommended a university and told them the endowment should 
be $5 million. Accepted accounts indicate that Jane and Leland looked at each 
other and agreed they could manage that amount.
  The thought of Leland and Jane, by this time quite wealthy, arriving at 
Harvard in a faded gingham dress and homespun threadbare suit is quite 
entertaining. And, as a former governor of California and well-known railroad 
baron, they likely were not knowingly kept waiting for too long outside Eliot’s 
office. The Stanfords also visited Cornell, MIT and Johns Hopkins.
  The Stanfords established two institutions in Leland Junior’s name—the 
University and the Museum, which was originally planned for San Francisco, but 
moved to adjoin the university.
  © Stanford University. All Rights Reserved. Stanford, CA 94305. (650) 723-2300

                                
---------------------------------
Want to be your own boss? Learn how on  Yahoo! Small Business. 

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]



------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor --------------------~--> 
Check out the new improvements in Yahoo! Groups email.
http://us.click.yahoo.com/6pRQfA/fOaOAA/yQLSAA/BRUplB/TM
--------------------------------------------------------------------~-> 

***************************************************************************
Berdikusi dg Santun & Elegan, dg Semangat Persahabatan. Menuju Indonesia yg 
Lebih Baik, in Commonality & Shared Destiny. 
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ppiindia
***************************************************************************
__________________________________________________________________________
Mohon Perhatian:

1. Harap tdk. memposting/reply yg menyinggung SARA (kecuali sbg otokritik)
2. Pesan yg akan direply harap dihapus, kecuali yg akan dikomentari.
3. Reading only, http://dear.to/ppi 
4. Satu email perhari: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
5. No-email/web only: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
6. kembali menerima email: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
 
Yahoo! Groups Links

<*> To visit your group on the web, go to:
    http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ppiindia/

<*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
    [EMAIL PROTECTED]

<*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to:
    http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
 


Kirim email ke