At New York City's Alaska House - an excellent evening, followed by a good time at Je'Bon's, where I left my computer behind

One thing that is stressed in Iñupiat culture is that a person should not be arrogant or brag about him or herself, so I should probably not begin this post of this of this photo. Yet, despite the applause, it is not total self-praise, as the gentleman who is showing me the top of his gap is not happy at all.

Still, I found my entire evening at the Alaska House  excellent and I greatly enjoyed it. The event had been scheduled to begin at 6:00 PM and by 5:55 PM, I was getting a little worried because only about four or five people had arrived. "Don't worry," Ellaine Legaspi, director of the Alaska House assured me. "This is how it always is. They will come."

And she was right. People began to come in and to go downstairs where fruit, cheese, crackers, wine, beer, soft drinks and water were being served. At 6:30, all moved upstairs and I began to show my slides and tell tell a sliver of the stories behind them.

Everyone showed interest and at the end, I was engaged with many questions.

After I took this photo, it was announced that there was time for only one more question. After that, anyone who wanted could hang around, visit and enjoy the refreshments.

I had to make a choice between upon the gentleman at right and a woman who was eagerly waving her hand, but who had already asked a couple of questions. This gentleman had asked none.

In fact, he had taken his seat only after the question and answer began, but I thought perhaps he had been standing off in the back somewhere during the slide show, because if he hadn't seen it, than how could he have any questions about it?

So I called on him.

I cannot put his question back together in here, but basically, he had not seen the show but he wanted to come anyway, to ask me some things about Inuit shamans, and he threw in a comment about the Pope. Even if I had clearly understood the question and had a good answer, which I didn't, I do not think I could have satisfied him, because it soon became clear that he had come not to discuss, but to contest.

Fortunately, Andre, wearng in the purple shirt, stepped in to speak from the perspective of a man whose bloodlines include Iñupiat and Yu'pik and also reach back to American slaves stolen from Africa. Andre did not satisfy the man, but he did defuse the situation.

Then many of us lingered, visited, and socialized and had a good time.

Among those I met afterward was Torin Jacobs, the brother of Andre. Torin in an alumni of New York University and a Marine veteran of the Iraq War. He lives in Anchorage now, is getting married in July and is building a career in music, production and dance.

People familiar with my past work know that in the early days of this new century, I did a project of portraits and interviews of Alaska Native veterans for the Alaska Federation of Natives. While I got a decent start to the project and took it beyond the limits of the funds that I had, I could never find the funding to take it anywhere near as far as I felt it should go.

I still see it as part of my ongoing work and while I had no time to anything formal with Torin, I did do a quick pose of him in front of a work by Alvin Amason.

We have a friendship now. Someday, perhaps, I will be able to tell you more of the story of this Alaska Native veteran.

Afterward, Torin, Andre, David Murray and Cherie McCabe invited me to join them for a sushi dinner at Je' Bon, a nice walk away from the Alaska House. That's David, also of Bethel, on the right.

David's mother comes from Rosebud, a Lakota reservation in South Dakota. David was trying to think how he could describe Rosebud to me, as he was certain that it was a place that I would know nothing of.

"Rosebud is where I met my wife," I told him.

And the woman sitting next to him? That's Cherie, Navajo. We had already spent quite a bit of time visiting, first at the Alaska House and then as we walked together to Je'Bon. After she had first introduced herself at the Alaska House, I had asked her if she knew Frank McCabe, who I knew in college.

"Frank is my dad!" she exclaimed.

Now she, the daughter of a friend from college and he, who hails from Bethel and whose mom came from the small town where I met my wife, are a couple.

What is it they say about this being a small world?

On our walk over, we happened upon a minor fender-bender . "So people do crash in New York City," I said to Cherie. "It's kind of always looked to me like everybody continually has near-misses, but that no one ever crashes."

"Oh, they crash!" she said. "All the time. I work in an emergency room and I see the results." She is a doctor, doing her internship here in New York City.

The sushi! The sushi! We ordered a large variety of rolls and it was all exquisite.

Right now, even as I type these words, David and Cherie should be running a half-marathon that began at Shea Stadium this morning. I had been thinking about going over there to see if I can photograph them finishing, but I fear that it is already too late. I have been told that it will take me an hour to get there and hour to get back and the day is so sunny and beautiful and it is my last in New York.

So I am sad to miss the finish, but glad that I got to meet them and eat sushi together.

After we had eaten, we were joined by a college friend and roommate of David's who lives and works on Wall Street.

There were many young, college-aged, people about. They imbibed heavily, laughed loudly and partied hearty and one particular young man among them had a chance to make to score big at my expense. When we left at closing time, I walked out with my hands full of left-overs from the Alaska House reception and absentmindedly left my computer behind.

Three blocks away, as I walked with Torin, I remembered it. Torin and I ran back and all the way I thought of those kids and how tempting that computer might have looked to some among them and I knew that they would all have passed right by where we had been sitting as they made their way to the stairs that led up to the main floor.

People were still leaving and the door still open when we got back, but the owner stopped us before we could return to the place where we had sat.

"Relax," he said. "I have your computer." He gave it to me and then took me outside where a group of the party-hearty youth continued to socialize. He introduced me to the young man who had found my computer and and had then turned it over to him for safe-keeping. The young man and I shook hands.

Perhaps in the morning, he would awake with a hangover. He would also awake with my gratitude.

People leaving.

Afterward, the brothers: Andre and Torin Jacobs.

Besides working at the Alaska House, Andre has started a Native radio program that will be heard nationwide, including on KNBA in Anchorage. He told us about a rather tragic story involving family that he is working on. For now, I won't say anything about it, but in time, when his story is right, I will see if I can write a few words and point readers toward it.

By the way: I did find that pretzel. I plan to post a full report on the pretzel and some of my other experiences as I have wandered about New York as a typical tourist tomorrow, before I board my plane back to Alaska.

Comments

[Michelle]

Wonderful post, wonderful time you had!

[LisaJ]

These posts are just great! Its amazing the people that you run into, no matter where you are!

Semper Fi Torin, and thank you for your service!

[twain12]

wonderful post...have a save trip home

[mocha]

You find good people everywhere!

[ManxMamma]

I think Bill finds good people because his is good people AND a good listener.