My plans for tonight are derailed by a thundering headache, but here, at least, is a bit of Cup'ik beauty, grace and power from the AFN Convention

I had big plans for this blog tonight, but it is late, I am too tired and I have a thundering headache. I cannot even begin to edit and process the bulk of today's take. I arrived at the Alaska Federation of Natives Convention a little before noon and then spent the rest of the day until about 9:00 PM either there or at related functions.

I did interview a handful of people, but mostly I just walked around and bumped into old friends and chatted. And I never had to walk very far. In fact, it was kind of impossible to walk far, because if you have wandered around Alaska for as long as I have and you go to AFN, then you just run into friend upon friend upon friend and each time you stop and chat.

So, besides the interviews, that's pretty much what I did. And I took a number of photos of some of these folks and so I was going to run a series of such pictures, but man, I've got to take some aspirin and go to bed!

So instead, I am doing it easy tonight. The last event that I attended was the first part of the performance of the Chevak Dancers, by which time my counter said I only had 36 frames left in my camera. You always get two or three more pictures than the counter says you will, plus I threw about dozen away so I could shoot just a few more, but still I wound up with only about 30 frames in my editor. It is easy to grab six of 30 frames, whereas it would be quite hard and time-consuming for me to try to sort through all these other shots and process them.

So here is one of the three: a beautiful dancer, whose name I do not know, waiting for her drummers to sing.

Her drummers sing.

She dances.

He dances, as well.

View from the front.

John Pingayak, leader of the Chevak Dance group, speaks to the crowd.

I have some more interviews to do tomorrow and I will also spend more time wandering about the convention, which means that I will have even that many more photos of friends to try to make some kind of presentation out of. I will also explain more about what the AFN convention is.

But I will do it. I sure hope that I can get rid of this headache, first. It is really a terrible headache. I don't know how a person can even think when he has a headache like this.

Chevak, by the way, is a Cup'ik village in Southwest Alaska, about ten miles inland from Hooper Bay on the Bering Sea coast. I have landed there a couple of times when I was doing work in Hooper Bay, but I have done no work in Chevak. Maybe one day I yet will.

There singers are strong. Their dances beautiful, graceful and powerful. So I think the village must be all these things as well.

I take four outings today and see many spectacular sights

Outing #1: I Face the Morning

Mornings are difficult for me. There are two ways that I can tolerate them - I can fix myself some oatmeal and eat it in silence with a cup of coffee and a banana. Silence. No TV. The sounds of a TV are virtually intolerable to me in the morning. So if I can get my breakfast ready and take a seat on the couch where I can look through the window into the small patch of woods that is our backyard before anyone else comes in and sits down, I am fine.

In this quiet, I find a certain peace and my mind comes to terms with the fact that it has another day that it must cope with.

But I am the only one in the house who feels that way concerning TV and breakfast. If anyone is already out there when I come staggering out, I am lost, because the TV is on. I do not feel like imposing my will on anyone, so I just bear it. It isn't easy, but I'm a tough and compassionate man.

Today, I got up and all was silent. Jacob, Lavina and Kalib had already left for Anchorage, Margie was asleep and Caleb had not yet returned home from his all-night shift. So I thought maybe I would have oatmeal in quiet and peace. But then, as I was getting dressed, I heard Caleb's car pull into the driveway and I knew the TV was about to come on.

I punched the auto-start to the Escape so that it could begin to warm up.

I still await that check that I wrote about last week and so severely lack cash, but I do have a credit card. So I headed over to Family Restaurant. That's the other way that I can tolerate the morning - if I can sit in a restaurant and be served a good breakfast.

There is no TV at Family although there is noise there, but it is the indistinct sounds of conversations taking place between people who I do not know, usually with only a word or two, perhaps a phrase, that actually reaches my ears at a volume loud enough to pierce through my own thoughts. Of course, it is backed up by the chimes of plates banging against each other, and being tapped by knives and forks. So I can just sit there and let my mind come to terms.

So here I am, at Family, where I ordered a Denver Omelette, hash browns and wheat toast with jam, plus coffee. 

When I came in, they tried to sit me against the wall 90 degrees to where I actually sat, but I wanted to be by this window, just in case the train came by. 

I did not see a train, but I did see the reflections of people inside the restaurant as I looked outside, at a blue Ford Escape and the Chugach Mountains.

As anybody who reads this blog knows, I love my G10 pocket camera despite its many deficiencies when compared to my DSLR's. I can carry it in my pocket, that's why. But sometimes those deficiencies cost me the picture. This is what happened here. I looked out the window and saw this elderly couple embrace, kiss - and hold the kiss - just like newly-weds on their honeymoon, or smitten teenagers who will who soon be surprised to have a baby come along. I don't believe there was any danger of that, in this case.

But, if they wanted to try, what the heck - go for it, I say!

I quickly raised the camera, got the scene framed just right and pushed the shutter button. Nothing happened. NOTHING! I kept pushing. Too late, it shot - but did not focus first! I don't know why. Sometimes, it responds quickly and accurately. Sometimes, it doesn't.

Oh well. The couple got to enjoy a good kiss and that is what really matters.

And I have told you about it and offered you blurry evidence that, indeed, it did happen, so let that knowledge bring hope and courage to your heart and soul.

Some would criticize me for posting this, just as they would that polar bear that I missed last week. They would say, "If you missed the picture, you missed it. Don't post a crummy picture."

But I don't just take pictures. I write, too. Now, I write about missing the picture.

Outing #2: A Bike Ride in the Wind and Snow

Here I am, pedaling my bike down Church Road. Even though I was going downhill, I had to work to pedal, due to the wind. And then I began to hear the sound of precipitation hitting my jacket. I felt the sting of it as it struck my face. Yet, I could not see it. It looked just like it would have looked if it hadn't precipitated at all.

I wondered if it was rain or snow. Snow, I figured, tiny flakes, heavy with ice. I reasoned this due to the volume of the noise and the sharpness of the stings upon my face.

Sure enough, finally, I was able to spot out a few of the larger flakes.

This invisible blizzard lasted for about three minutes, maybe four.

I didn't time it.

Outing # 3: I Get Margie Out of the House

Having used the credit card at breakfast, I had no justification whatsoever to use it again at lunch. But I saw Margie sitting on the couch, her crutches beside her, and I knew that was where she was going to be all day and I could not bear the thought of it.

So I asked her if she wanted to get out of the house for a bit. "We can stop at the post office and see if the check is there," I encouraged.

"Yes," she said. "I would like to get out."

The check was not there.

I left the choice of dining to her. She chose KFC.

As we waited in the drive-through line, this is what we saw. In some ways, it is getting annoying that everytime I go to a cash register, be it in the grocery store, the fast-food line, or whatever, I am asked to donate to something.

Yet, you look at this and you think, surely, if I can donate one dollar and feed four hungry children, then I should. You also wonder what will actually happen to that dollar.

As it happened, by the time we got to the window, I had forgotten about the sign. And the lady at the cash register didn't ask, the way they usually do, so I did not donate.

Now I have to worry about those four children who will not be fed because of me.

On the way home, we saw a caravan of school buses coming down the hill.

And more buses behind them!

And even more! Some people have the idea that Wasilla is a boring place to live, but, I tell you, there is always something exciting happening here.

Outing #4: Coffee Break at the Metro Cafe

Certainly, having been out three times already, I did not need to go out again - except for this: I always take a coffee break at 4:00 o'clock so that I can sit in the car, sip coffee and listen to at least a little bit of NPR's All Things Considered on KSKA.

I justify this by the fact that I tend to spend the rest of the day, usually until about 2:00 AM, sitting at my desk in my office, struggling to get some kind of work done.

So, as I waited in line, I saw this lady in my outside rear view mirror. As the wind ruffled her skirt, she smiled at someone who I could not see.

It was the driver of this car who she had smiled at.

She got in and then they drove away. Carmen, the owner of Metro Cafe, told me that they were real nice people.

I drop into a banquet for Iñupiat youth and Elders; Etok is elected to be the Arctic Slope's Elder's Rep; Kalib is thrilled by the fire

This is a banquet thrown today by the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation for Iñupiat Eskimo youth and Elders at the Hilton Hotel in Anchorage. I did not drive to town to photograph the banquet or the meeting that followed and I took very few pictures. I went to the banquet to meet a few young people to interview for my project. 

Here's the thing about that project - I am budgeted for 96 pages. My original layout came to 278 pages. I threw all kinds of stuff away that I wanted to keep - including many pictures that are better than others that stayed but did not tell the story as directly - and it now stands at 118 pages.

So it seems foolish for me to add even more material, yet, even if just interviews, for not a single picture that I took today will go into it, but there are still some things that I feel it needs. All these folks were down from Barrow and the other villages of the Arctic Slope to participate in the Alaska Federation of Natives Elders and Youth Conference.

Normally, I would have taken many pictures, but I have so many to deal with already that I just did not want to add too many more. Plus, I doubt that I slept for even two hours last night, so I was tired. I had little energy.

The youth and elders invited me to eat with them and I did. 

There was no Iñupiaq food - no whale, no seal, no caribou, no fish or ducks, no Eskimo donuts. It was all Hilton Hotel catering foods. Roast beef and roast turkey in gravy, red potato wedges, green beans, rolls of various kinds and pastries and coffee.

It was still very good.

There is a football field in Barrow that cost $3 million to build (and the game has proved very popular in Barrow). Luke Tetreau from Kaktovik said that if they could spend that much on the field, they should spend at least one million on school supplies. The statement brought loud applause.

Don't picture a big fancy stadium on the tundra, because there is no such thing. It just costs a lot of money to build anything in the Arctic. I had hoped to return to Barrow late this summer and photograph some games there, but it didn't work for me.

Maybe next year.

And yes, Barrow is cold now, despite the warm weather we are having here (although standing in the wind in Anchorage today, it did not feel warm at all. It felt cold.) Cold, snowy, and icy.

Hopefully, I will get back up there before too long and I will show you.

This is Etok, also known as Charlie Edwardsen, Jr. Etok was one of the original activists that launched the movement to settle Native land claims in Alaska, but he did not celebrate when the Alaska Native Land Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) was passed in 1971.

Today, he was nominated to be the Arctic Slope's Elder representative to the AFN Elders and Youth Conference and this is from his campaign speech. Etok said that he had been absent from AFN for 30 years because he considered the acceptance of ANCSA to be a sellout. He noted that no Arctic Slope Iñupiat had ever agreed to accept the act, no Iñupiat had ever signed a document of surrender, and no Iñupiat had treated or any in way agreed to give up one acre of their aboriginal Arctic Slope homeland - including Prudhoe Bay - to either the United States government or Alaska.

Therefore, he said, it all still belongs to the Iñupiat.

Now, after all these decades, he had decided to get involved again. And he won.

It is very difficult for me to think of Etok as an Elder, but I guess he is. It is amazing how many young, vital, people are Elders now.

I have yet to hear the results of the youth election.

The Reverend Mary Ann Warden delivers the closing prayer.

The AFN Convention will be held Thursday through Saturday. I do not plan to cover the convention per se, but there will be many people there who I want to see, so I will attend at least two days, and possibly all three.

As I drove away, I passed this kid on the Glenn Highway, by Merrill Field.

At home, Kalib was fascinated by the fire.

Very pleased.

I pedal into the graveyard and am surprised to happen on Wasilla's former mayor - this individual who put us into our house on Sarah's Way

I have pedaled by the Wasilla graveyard on Aspen many times, but, until today, never into it. Today I did and was surprised to come upon this grave first thing: Charles Howard Bumpus - Charlie Bumpus. Mayor Charlie Bumpus. Were it not for this man, perhaps my family and I would never have lived in Wasilla at all.

Lisa would probably not even exist, because where else but inside this house could circumstance have brought Margie and I together at just the right moment to conceive her? 

We met Charlie Bumpus a little more than a year after we had rolled into Alaska, homeless and jobless. By then, I had a marginal income, plus the first Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend and the state had a low-interest, guaranteed, loan program to help first time home buyers on the struggling side to purchase a house. Charlie Bumpus had come up with a brilliant scheme on how to bring these home buyers to him.

Even with the state program, a house like the one we are in would have been out of reach, but Bumpus figured out that if he created a subdivision, then took orders for five houses at a time, he could build at package prices, lower the cost and make them affordable to more people and thus make a good profit himself.

So we drove out from Anchorage and met him in a downtown Wasilla devoid of fast food joints and chain stores. He was tall, slender and freckled; he had blond, curly, hair and was highly animated and energized. Soon, as we followed, both desperate and fearful to keep up, he sped at an insane speed down Lucille Street, which in those days was a narrow, windy, gravel, road, kicking up gravel, dust, and stones. Each time he rounded a curve, it looked like we was about to slide off the road. I could feel the tires slip a bit as we rounded those same curves behind him. It was easy to imagine that we might soon fly right off the road.

Finally, we reached Ravenview Subdivision, # 1, where we transferred to his car. Charlie drove us through the gravel streets past empty lots of birch, spruce and cottonwood that stood over a spongy, mossy forest floor and then gave us an inside tour of the few model homes he had already built.

"I'm not doing this for the money," he insisted. "I'm doing it so that one day I can drive through here with my daughter, show her a thriving neighborhood and tell her, 'your dad built this!'"

We chose a lot on Sarah's Way, picked the cheapest of the three-bedroom home models, looked at linoleum samples, cabinets, sinks, refrigerators, showers, toilets, ovens, woodstoves and such and chose what we wanted.

We then signed the papers, knowing full well that we had just wasted his time and ours. We knew the state was not going to approve us for the program.

But the state did. And here we are. 

Bumpus quickly rose to become one of Wasilla's most important residents, famous not only for his business skills, but his talent as a saxophone player. He ran in races and participated in other sports. 

He was fit and prosperous. Life looked good for him. In 1985, he was elected Mayor of the City of Wasilla. Less than a year later, at the age of 45, Mayor Bumpus suffered a sudden heart attack and died - right on the 15th birthday of his daughter, Sarah.

I wonder how many times he had driven her down the street that he named for her? Our street? Did he swell with fatherly pride as he drove her past our house? Did she feel daughterly adoration toward him? 

And what would he have thought of Sarah Palin, who, in 1996, became the third mayor to succeed him? If he had finished his term and had then been relected, the whole political landscape of Wasilla would have played out differently than it did. Would Sarah Palin have even become Mayor? Would anybody, outside of a few locals, even know her name?

So today I pedaled into the Wasilla graveyard and came immediately upon his headstone. It was a modest headstone, for one of such wealth and prestige.

A little further, I happened upon a cherub.

Just beyond that, I found a married couple waiting for three of their four children to join them. The other already has.

What did this mean? Was it a child's grave? Or an adult, who was loved by some who imagined this to be the way he had lived as a child? Or was he, perhaps, a fan of Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer?

I saw some graves that were definitely children and, just as I did these, I photographed them as I pedaled past. But I didn't post the pictures.

Out in the trees, I saw the Virgin Mary looking at me.

A cherub, bathing nude in the sun.

In the upper graveyard, the new part, devoid of trees, I again saw Mary.

They seemed to rise from the ground as ghosts, and I could not even read their names. I wondered about their origins and how it was that they came to live in Wasilla, and if some of the many people of the old Russian faith that I see around here - the women in their long skirts and head scarfs, the men in their plain clothes - descend directly from them?

Since this was a bicycle shoot, I had resolved not to get off my bike or the trail, but I compromised, because I wanted to see this couple closer up, as individuals. I laid my bike down at the edge of the grass and walked over. 

This is he.

And this is she.

Can you see how much work I have ahead of me, if I am to meet my goal of finding the soul of Wasilla? 

So far, I have done very little. Given Margie and my needs to survive, coupled with all the work I still want to do outside of Wasilla, it seems so impossible, but I believe that I am going to do it.

That means that one day fairly soon, before I join them, I must get to know these two, at least a little bit.

I then picked up my bike and pedaled home.

Margie and Lavina go to Starbuck's and get me in trouble with Lisa; Kalib visits a firetruck for muscular dystrophy; I hear gunshot as I photograph goose decoy frozen into pond

"Dad!!!!!????? Starbuck's?????!!!!! "Lisa accused. "You went to Starbuck's???"

I was innocent. Margie and Lavina had committed the sacrilege when they drove into Anchorage the other day to get the ultrasound of the new baby that now brews in Lavina's womb and, afterward, stopped at a Starbuck's. They carelessly left the evidence in the car.

Lisa was in the car with me because she came out today for about two hours and we went out to coffee together. There is no Starbuck's in Wasilla (yet) but I can assure you, even if there were, we would not have gone there.

Lisa is pretty liberal and tolerant of the foibles of her fellow human beings, but not when it comes to buying coffee from Starbuck's. This she will not tolerate.

After I made my case and told her the true story, she said something like this, "I'll bet that they told each other, 'Lisa never needs to know.'"

This evening, after the five-month pregnant Lavina returned home from her volleyball game in Anchorage, I told her how much trouble she and Margie had gotten me into.

"We didn't think Lisa would find out," Lavina said. "We told each other, 'Lisa never needs to know.'"

The money Jacob is handing to Kalib is not for the tot, but for the tot to drop in the fireman's boot. But the tot does not want to take the money and drop it in the boot. Before the incident is over, Jacob, Lavina and Kalib will drop about ten dollars into the boot. 

After dropping the money, Jacob and Lavina check out the firetruck on display in the Carr's parking lot.

It was the wheels that most impressed Kalib.

After awhile, he was ready to go.

This is fireman Danny, who explained that the money goes to send local children with muscular dystrophy to summer camp. They display the truck for two days each year. Last year, they raised over $10,000.

After we returned home, I jumped onto my bike and took a short ride. I crunched my way through frozen puddles.

As I passed the pond the kids named "Little Lake" when they were small, I saw a goose decoy, frozen into the surface. It used to be, several years ago, that each summer a number of ducks would nest around this pond and geese would drop in, too. 

Soon, we would see the little ducklings following their mothers about the pond.

There were no homes near the pond, but then Red and his wife bought a piece of property on the corner of Seldon and Wards that overlapped half of it. They built a home there. Red liked the idea of ducks and geese coming to their pond and so he put duck and goose decoys into the water to attract them.

Of course, they had been coming anyway.

Red died a few years back and his wife, who has remarried, twice, began to spend her winters in Arizona. About a year ago, she put the house and property up for sale. It is still for sale. 

This decoy still drifts in the pond. We have not seen ducklings in the pond for the past few years.

The water level has just dropped too low. I don't think it can support them.

Despite the ice, the weather is still warm and beautiful for this time of year. Little Lake may have frozen over, but the big lakes don't even appear to be close to doing so.

As I photographed the decoy, I heard a rifle shot that sounded to be about 200 yards away and like it came from a yard.

I didn't think too much about it, because gunshots are common around here and usually just mean someone has plunked at a target or that they just decided things were too quiet and they wanted to make a little noise.

Then I got to wondering what if, sometime, I heard a gunshot and thought it was nothing, when it was actually somebody shooting somebody else, perhaps to death. Unless someone started screaming and shouting, I would just go on about my business thinking that everything was okay.

I'm pretty certain everything was okay, today.

After I left the goose decoy in the pond, I got onto the bike trail and pedaled down the shadow of a guardrail.