Transitions - Barrow to Wasilla: iPhone communications to the living and from the dead - I have opened comments on the previous post*

My flight on Alaska Airlines was scheduled to leave Barrow at 8:20 PM, but it was running about one hour late. So I took a seat and pulled out my iPhone to occupy myself. Soon, Hazel Pebbly and her granddaughter, Makayla, whose Iñupiaq name is Pamilaq, sat down across from me and pulled out their own phones while the fellow at left played on his iPad and the woman at right worked on her laptop.

I am not certain, but it sounded to me like Makayla was talking to a young sibling - a brother, I think. It might have been a cousin.

"I love you," she said. "Now you say it..."

There was a pause. 

"Say, 'I...'" she continued...

"Now say, 'love...'

"Good! Now say, 'you!...

"I... love... you!... I love you!"

Sometime after Jacob and Lavina gave me my iPhone, I began to use it to send email messages to Sandy from different airports whenever I would go traveling.

Just before I had left Anchorage to come to Barrow on this trip, I sent this message from Gate C 4:

Hi Sandy,

Here I am, sitting at gate 4, Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage, about to board the jet to Barrow. I have been insanely busy, yet I did not even come close to getting everything done that I needed to.

Oh well. It will all come together - it always does. I hope you get a chance to read my blog today - the one about the movie set.

Got to go. It's cold and windy. It will be colder in Barrow.

Love,
Bill

Sent from my iPhone

I felt extremely exhausted that day and a very strange thing happened after I boarded the plane. It was a cold day and the wind was howling. I was so unfortunate as to get a middle seat, squished between two big guys, so I sank myself as deeply into my seatback as I could, folded my arms over my chest and closed my eyes.

After awhile, I heard the engines rev up a bit and felt the plane begin to taxi. I kept my eyes closed. I felt the motions of the plane as it rolled down the taxi-way and made its turns, then heard the engines thrust to full power. I felt the g's as the jet accelerated down the runway. Still, I kept my eyes closed. My eyelids were so heavy I had no other choice. Then I felt the airplane rise into the air. Very soon, it slammed into rough turbulence, created by the wind as it tumbled over the mountains.

Turbulence is nothing new to me. I kept my eyes closed as the plane climbed through, buffeted and jolted until finally it rose above the turbulence. The flight smoothed out and the roar of the engines settled into pleasant background drone.

After we had been flying for what seemed to be half an hour or so, I suddenly heard a new sound come from the engines - that kind of minor acceleration that a pilot will use to shift directions or change speed while rolling on the ground.

Startled, I opened my eyes and saw that we were rolling on pavement. I could not believe it. How could we have landed without me feeling the jolt? I looked beyond the runway into the dim winter light, expecting to see the hills and vegetation of Fairbanks, but instead saw those that border the Anchorage airport.

I had dreamed the whole thing.

Now, the plane really did pull onto the runway. The engines accelerated, I felt the g's, the plane lifted off, then flew into a blast of turbulence and began to climb through it - exactly as I had experienced in the dream.

After we landed in Fairbanks, I sat in my seat doing nothing as departing passengers left the plane and others boarded. After awhile, I decided to tell Sandy of the experience, so I pulled out my iPhone, opened an email to her and wrote this:

Hello again...

Now I am sitting inside the jet as it waits outside the Fairbanks terminal for the new passengers who will fly on to Barrow with us.

It looks pretty cold out there.

I had a pretty strange experience after I boarded in Anchorage, I was clamped into the middle seat between two big guys, I just sunk as far back into seat cushion as I could and ... Oo got to power down

 
Sent from my iPhone

I did not get to finish, because the Stewardess had given the order to shut down all electronic devices.

The next evening in Barrow, I received this email back from Soundarya:

Hi Bill,

My laptop crashed again & I wondered how long I had to wait to read your mails...I'm glad I could!

Guess you had a squeezy journey?

You are quiet busy! Takecare...don't push yourself to the extreme.

Gotto rush now. Sorry for such a short mail. Will mail you later....

Love & Stress-Free hugs!

Sandy

These were the last words that she will ever write to me. Perhaps what I wrote above was the last of my words that she ever read. I did send her three emails in the short span between Anil's death and hers, but I do not know if she ever received or read them. I suspect that she didn't.

After I stood up and got into the security line, I heard someone call out my name. I turned and saw a woman looking at me and waved shyly, because I was not quite certain who she was. Then I heard the same voice as before call out my name again and say, "over here!"

I had been looking at the wrong person. It was my friend, Misty Nayakik from Wainwright who had called my name. She was with her young son, Caleb. She had just come in on the jet from Anchorage with her special man, Kennedy Ahmaogak, who was elsewhere in the terminal waiting for their bags to arrive.

He has been receiving treatment for cancer in Anchorage. Happily, that treatment has gone well and Kennedy is doing well now.

Finally, we boarded and then the jet was climbing into the darkness above the Arctic Slope.

Jeffrey Maupin, an entrepreneur, was sitting in the "C" seat across the aisle from me. I had been assigned to seat "D," but "E" and "F" were empty, so I scooted over to sit by the window. Not because I wanted to see what was outside - only blackness could be seen out there - but so I could lay my head against the wall and doze.

I did, too, and every now and then I would slip off briefly, only to find that my dreamy state was every bit as dark as the blackness pressing in at the window.

Jeffrey told me that every time he sees me, he thinks about his college days. I told him that I everytime I see him, I think about his college days, too.

I was working for the Tundra Times then and I did an article on Alaska Native college students. I interviewed Jeffrey in a place where Native students gather but that interview was continually interrupted by female students who saw Jeffrey and swung over to say "hi," to get his attention and even to flirt a bit.

They all seemed to be quite interested in him.

I reminded him of that.

"Could you tell me where those ladies are now?" he joked.

Once, many years ago, I was walking down the street in Barrow when Jeffrey stopped and offered me a ride.

I wasn't really going anywhere and neither was he. We were both just wandering about, to see what we could see.

The Running Dog was in top flying condition then, so I told Jeffrey to take me to the airport. I jumped into the front seat and took the stick. He jumped into the back. Then I took him flying, weaving about over various of the myriad million lakes of the Arctic Slope until we found ourselves near Atqasuk. I then brought him back to Barrow.

"Wow!" he said. "I was born and raised here but I never saw the country like that before."

That was then.

"Do you still have your airplane?" he asked, from the seat across the aisle.

"Yes," I said, "but it's wrecked. It doesn't fly anymore."

This is now.

In front of me sat someone with nicely coiffed hair.

When we began to draw near to Fairbanks, the pilot turned on the landing lights. The glow reflected off the leading edge of the wing and the tiny little stabilizers that run most of its length.

Then we were on the tarmac in Fairbanks and it was a shocking sight. Rain was falling, splattering against the window and pooling in slushy puddles outside. It used to be that even when the warmest Pineapple Express would blow in off the Pacific to turn winter-time Anchorage and Wasilla into a slushy mess, Fairbanks could be counted on to remain well below freezing, if not below zero. The snow there would stay good and dry.

Long-range forecasters predicted that this would be a cold winter, but so far it seems to have been warm - the warmest yet. In the past, when I would go to Barrow this time of year, the temperature would usually stay below zero the whole time that I was there. This time, it never went below zero and it got as warm as +32.

And Fairbanks! Look! The temperature in Fairbanks was about +40. Forty below would not have surprised me, but +40?

My niece Shaela had called from L.A. before I left Barrow. She said it was about 40 there.

Before we left Fairbanks, the plane filled completely up, they closed the doors and then the mysterious and enchanting stewardess delivered the preflight briefing. Her gaze seemed to reach somewhere way out beyond the fuselage walls.

I wondered what she could see that was invisible to the rest of us?

Lighted signs pointed the way as the pilot taxied toward the runway.

Then the plane was airborne and we were rising over Fairbanks International Airport.

A week or two ago, Sandy sent me an email to tell me that she had taken up the study of Spanish. She asked what language I would most like to learn. Iñupiaq, I answered, followed closely by Apache so that I could speak to Margie in her own tongue. Next would be Tamil, so that I could talk to Soundarya in her native language.

After the jet landed in Anchorage, I called Melanie's phone and Charlie answered. He said he would tell Melanie and she would leave for the airport right away. When I stepped into the terminal, I found that I had entered at Cate C-9, the one farthest from baggage claim. That was okay. I needed the walk.

The last place that I ever saw Soundarya was at the Bangalore Airport. Murthy had hired a big, van-like taxi-cab operated by a trusted driver and much of the family had come along to say goodbye to Melanie and me. Anil and Buddy traveled on Anil's motor scooter, sometimes zipping ahead of us, sometimes falling behind, sometimes right alongside. I sat in the passenger seat so that I could take photos. Sandy sat behind me and leaned forward so that her head rested on my seatback and from where she could lay her hand upon my shoulder. When my camera would go down, she would clasp my hand.

Sometimes, she would lean her head against my shoulder.

After we arrived at the airport and left the taxi, she again took my hand in hers. It was a complicated process just to approach the airport terminal and only ticketed passengers were allowed to enter. Melanie got through the outside confusion before I did and entered the terminal ahead of me. This worried me a bit, because I did not want to lose sight of her.

Sandy kept hold of my hand as I worked my way through the bureaurocracy and then walked to the terminal door, where a guard stood to see that only those with tickets entered.

I showed him my ticket and my passport. He motioned me to enter. Still, Sandy held firmly and warmly onto my hand, but remained outside as I passed through the doorway. Our arms began to stretch. "Look!" Sandy's mom, Banu, said. "She is going to the US with him!" The family laughed. Then the stretch grew too great. Her hand slipped away, her fingertips brushing mine as it did.

I turned, looked at the faces of all the family behind, then into her eyes, filled now with a painful mix of joy and sorrow, moistened by tears. I walked on. Sandy disappeared from sight. I searched the crowd for Melanie and found her - although she would fly out on a different airplane.

Melanie arrived at the baggage area before I did, but thanks to the heavy traffic had to park a good hike away.

As I hiked toward her, I came upon little Iqilan, held in her aaka's arms..

I am not certain that I have spelled her name correctly. If I haven't, her Aapa Charlie is invited to correct me.

I had always believed that one day Sandy and Anil would get off the plane in Anchorage so that I could finally give that tour of Alaska that we so often talked about. I would have Woody Guthrie plugged into the car's stereo system through the iPhone and the first thing she would hear would be him singing, "This land is my land, this land is your land..."

Then I would drive through Anchorage and would show the sights. Yes, even this diner. I have never eaten here, because some of my children have and they were not impressed. If she wanted to, it would be okay, but I doubt this diner has much of a vegetarian menu.

Margie and I went to this new movie theatre complex for the first time about two weeks ago. Afterward, I wrote an email to Sandy and told her about the movie and that if she got a chance to see it, she should watch for a certain kind of black taxi-cab that we had talked about before, a kind that I have seen only in London.

She answered that it would take the movie at least 45 days to reach India, but when it did she would go and she would watch for that taxi-cab.

The movie? Clint Eastwood's Hereafter. It begins with what can only be the tsunami that struck southern Asia in December, 2004 and that killed over a quarter million people, including many in India. Matt Damon stars in the movie as a psychic with the ability to help the troubled living connect with their dead loved ones and then bring them comfort.

Despite the late hour and the fact that she would only have to turn around and drive back to Anchorage, Melanie drove me home. I don't remember precisely when we arrived, but I believe it was after 2:00 AM. I was very glad that it was Melanie who picked me up.

We both needed to spend some time alone together. It wasn't enough time, but it was good time.

As you can see, the warm weather that has gripped all of Alaska was here, too. I have not seen any forecasts, but Melanie tells me that it is supposed to get cold in a day or two. Below zero.

I hope so. It bothers me when the climatic world gets so off-kilter as it has been lately.

We passed by Eagle River, but did not stop to eat.

And then we continued on to Wasilla. Maybe because I was so tired, I forgot to take any pictures after we arrived. I will take plenty of pictures at our Thanksgiving feast. It will be at Jacob and Lavina's this year.

*Although I had disabled the comments on the previous post, a few readers left comments elsewhere and made it clear to me that I had been unfair to readers who themselves mourn this loss.

I know it is too late to accommodate most of those who would have left comments, but I have gone ahead and enabled comments for that post.

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Comments

[twain12]

welcome home Bill.
My condolences to you and the Family. Life has a way of profoundly and irreversibly changing in an instant and we are at a loss. There is not much i can say , but i know the grief . I like to think that Sandy sees your beloved Alaska through your Eyes. I don't have any particular religious believe but i think that will see each other again and that in special moments the people we love walk with us. Yours was a special friendship.
hugs
Gabi

[Rocksee]

Glad you made it safely.

[mocha]

Hold your family close this special day. I am so very sorry for your loss. Thank you for writing about it so poignantly.

[Alaska Pi]

I realized with this post that some part of me was holding my breath until you got home safely to your family.
Rest some my friend.

[twain12]

I also hope that you and your Family have a good Thankgsgiving

[Dusty]

Bill,

I am a long time reader and not a great or frequent commenter. I don't even know how to put into words what I want to say. We've never met and mostly likely never will but if I was close by I would just give you a big hug and whisper I am sorry and hoped that would be enough to convey what I wish I could say in words.
I am sure that by now Margie and the rest of your loving family are helping to heal the hurt. You and your family are truly blessed and I am thankful that you share your life with me, a stranger on the web.
Dusty

[Michelle]

Been thinking about this constantly.

Thoughts to you Bill, your family, and of course Sandy & Anil's families.

Sadness.