Master Sgt. John Kendall Dunlap, World War II Veteran, January 13, 1913 - August 14, 1960

I don't know anything about Master Sgt. John Kendall Dunlapp, except that he served in World War II, must have lived in California at some point but has lain in the Wasilla cemetery now for two-and-a-half months shy of 51 years.

I found his grave late yesterday afternoon after I pedaled my bike to the cemetery to see if I might find a picture appropriate for Memorial Day.

I googled his name, plus the rest of the information from his headstone, but could find nothing on him. I do not know where he served or what he did while he served. I do not know if he had a wife and children. I only know that he served in World War II, survived, came home, then lived for a decade-and-a-half before dying at a relatively young age and was then buried in Wasilla.

As for the flag, I believe it has been placed there by the cemetery itself, that such flags are placed upon the graves of all veterans.

Does anyone in Wasilla now remember Master Sgt. John Kendall Dunlap?

Somewhere, there must be people who remember him.

What was his story?

I bike to Church, go on to Sunrise, see a four-wheeler through a pipe and am told a search is under way; Fat Boy's is gone, Sicily's is here

My modem went on the blink and ceased to blink, so, if I wanted to keep blogging, I had to take it back to GCI and trade it in for a new one. As I pulled out of the driveway to go and do so, I saw Kalib in the back of Caleb's truck. Caleb was nearby, keeping an eye on him.

After I swapped out the modem, I returned toward home along the edge of Wasilla Lake and shot a few blind frames. By "blind frames" I mean that I pointed my camera through the window and without looking in that direction myself, fired off a few frames, letting fate and serendipity choose the subjects and the composition.

Just a few weeks ago, Wasilla Lake was still coated in ice.

Now look at it. It has once again become:

"Wasilla Malibu."

I should do a series of studies of Wasilla Malibu throughout the summer - even though I don't expect to be here that much this summer. Still, I will shoot what studies I can, beginning with this one, which I shall title:

Wasilla Malibu Study #204: The red fire hydrant and the sunburnt boy.

Next I went to the Post Office. After I came out, I got into the car and started to drive away, but I saw the broader-faced of these two dogs. I braked to a stop, backed up, parked poorly, jumped out, scurried over and told the lady and the man kept by the canines that I would like to photograph the dog and then the other dog appeared and so I amended that to, "I would like to photograph your dogs."

So I did. I didn't learn much about the dogs, because, as I have already stated, I was parked poorly and needed to move my car before the wrong person came along, took offense, and shot me. I did learn that both dogs had just been groomed. They had been wearing heavy winter coats but now they were ready for summer.

I also learned their names, one was Sammy and the other was... the other was... the dog's name was...

Oh, good grief! I have forgotten!

This is terrible.

Not only that, I can't even remember which dog is Sammy and which is the other dog. 

But one of them is Sammy and whichever one he is, he is a mighty beautiful and fine looking dog and his temperament is pleasant.

Next I took a bike ride, my longest one so far this season. Here I am, headed down Church Road.

Here I am, about three or four miles further along, on Sunrise. A man and a boy pass by me on a fourwheeler and wave. I want to wave back, but worry that I might crash if I do because I am already pedaling and photographing and talking on my iPhone while surfing the web and to add one more element might just be too much.

So instead I nod my head and shout "hi!" hoping they can hear over the engine and wind noise.

Actually, I was not talking on my cell phone - or surfing the web. My iPhone was in my pocket. I just made that up to add a little bit of drama to the moment.

Our paths intersected again a little further down Sunrise, by the Mahoney Ranch, where the road has been torn up so that some new drainage pipes can be dropped in beneath it.

Turns out it was Dustin and his son. Dustin grew up just up the road. We talked a bit and he spoke about how wonderful it was to grow up here and I commented that he must have seen a lot of change and development and it must frustrate him a bit and he said, oh yeah, he had witnessed incredible growth and change and it was frustrating.

I was nodding away in awe at all the change he must have witnessed growing up here his whole life, especially considering all the change I had seen even though I grew up elsewhere and have only lived here a short time when suddenly it struck me that my short time living in Wasilla is getting close to 30 years and Dustin looks pretty young so I have probably been here longer than he has and have seen even more change.

As we were talking, a car stopped and a young Mahoney got out and then prepared to ride away on a bike. He said the people who had just dropped him off had told him that a two year-old child had wandered off and got lost at the s-curve, maybe a bit over a mile up the road. A search was underway and he was going to go help.

One never wants to hear or believe such news, but these things happen. It puzzled me a bit, though, because I had already pedaled through the s-curve and had seen no one. I knew that if a search had been going on there, there would have been people and emergency vehicles at that curve.

Maybe I had pedaled through before the search began. I did not think so, though. I thought perhaps he had received some inaccurate information. I hoped so.

The young man pedaled away.

I then took a picture of Dustin and his son through the new culvert pipe.

Then they turned around and headed off. I resituated myself on my bike and pedaled off in the same direction. I soon realized that they were going pretty slow and it would be an easy thing to catch them and then shoot a few frames as I pedaled alongside them.

So that is what I did. The Mahoney horses were in the field on the other side and I had planned to shoot a few pictures of them on the way back, but by the time I had shot my final frame of Dustin and son, I had passed the horses.

At that point, all I could think about was the story about the two-year old. I did not want it to be true. I did not think it was true. But I had to find out. If it was true, then I would have to do my part to help.

I could not leave with a two-year old child wandering in the woods, or being downstream in the frigid waters of the Little Su.

I pedaled on, toward the s-curve. Soon the Mahoney kid came into view, returning home. He said there was no one at the s-curve, no sign of any kind of search at all. The information he received must have been bad, he said.

Relieved, I pedaled on. As I reached the s-curve, an airplane passed overhead.

In time, I reached Seldon, which not so long ago became the Mat-Su Veterans Highway. It is hard to think of Seldon Street being considered a highway, but if it is a highway, then it is appropriate to name it for the veterans.

I took this picture right by Fat Boy's pizza. Unfortunately, Fat Boy's has gone out of business. It was said that he would reopen in a busier part of town in May, but he did not. I hope he yet does.

Now, there was a sign in the window that said, "Abby's Home Cooking, opening soon."

I wonder if Abby will serve breakfast? What will her hash browns be like?

Will she steal me away from the Family Restuarants? It would be an easy and good thing to leave the car behind and get on my bike in the morning and peddle the mile-and-a-half to Cora's.

When I got home, the house was chaotic. Jobe and Kalib were having a blast. It was after 7:00 PM. All the dishes were dirty, no one wanted to cook and dirty more dishes and anyway I now had pizza locked into my brain. So I ordered pizza from Sicily's, the place on the Parks Highway just past Church Road that I only discovered while driving home from Fairbanks May 15, following the honoring of Katie John.

They deliver, but the lady on the phone said it would take 45 to 55 minutes but the pizza would be ready in 15, if I were to pick it up.

So I picked it up. On the way home, I saw this dog.

I am very sad to have lost Fat Boy's, but glad to have discovered Sicily's.

It was very good pizza.

I ate too much, though, and then, to compensate, I had watermelon and cantaloupe afterwards.

After the gorge, I found Kalib and Caleb playing in the guest room. "Uncle!" Kalib would say. "Nephew!" Caleb would answer. Then they would reach out their hands and touch.

Jobe finished the day with some milk and then went to bed. Just as he is no longer sleeping in his cradle board, he no longer dines on mother's milk. 

Lavina had two goals in mind when she breast fed Jobe for over a year - the first was to provide him the healthiest diet possible, the second to give Jake and her a natural form of birth control.

It will soon be evident just how successful that part of the plan proved to be.

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Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 4: final military honors; Psalm 23: I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever

As the service draws to an end, Barrow veterans, including many who have fought in foreign wars, took turns in paying Warren Matumeak their respect. Wesley Aiken, who served with him, salutes his life-long friend and closest cousin.

James Kapu Ahsoak and Thomas Hopson during the folding of the flag.

As Hopson takes the folded flag, Nowpakahok salutes.

David Leavitt presents the flags of the State of Alaska and the Alaska Territitorial Guard  to Warren’s daughter Darlene Kagak.

Wesley Aiken presents the American flag to Warren’s eldest daughter, Alice Akpik.

His fellow veterans give Warren Matumeak a final salute. To see a larger version of this image, click on the picture. "View as slide show" will display larger versions of all pictures.

Warren’s grandsons Warren Kagak and Tommie Akpik lead the way as Warren's pallbearers carry him from the church…

…and then to his grave.

Family members gather around as Warren Matumeak is lowered into the permafrost. Afterward, when they gather at his home to eat, they will express great confidence that he has gone to a better place and that in time, short by eternal standards, they will join him there.

The Reverend John Chambers conducts the graveside service.

The grave is filled in.

Warren loved Psalm 23 and had recited it a few times during the final weeks of his life, so the family asked Mark Ahsoak if he would create a plaque of Psalm 23 for the cross that would mark Warren’s grave. He did. Darlene examines the plaque and is pleased by it.

Robert Akpik places a wreath on the cross that now marks his aapa’s grave.

Family members gather behind him.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table...

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Goodbye, Warren Matumeak - part 3: The Service

To honor his service, Alaska National Guardsmen and Iraq war veterans Owen Nowpakahok and Thomas Hopson carry an American flag to Warren’s coffin.

Steven Kaleak, also a veteran of the Iraq war, joins his fellow guardsmen in salute to their fellow soldier.

The choir that Warren led for so long and so recently now sing for him. Warren was not only a song leader, but a song translator and a song writer. He translated many hymns from English into Iñupiaq and composed many originals. Several of them have become Christmas classics and will soon be heard as part of the pageants that are performed in Barrow each Christmas season.

After the invocation and a recitation of the Lord's Prayer, the choir and congregation joined together to sing, "My Jesus, I love Thee" - a favorite hymn of Warren's.

Warren’s daughter, Darlene Kagak and her husband Jacob Kagak join in the congregational singing.

More members of his family, including Ernest Nageak, Nancy Akpik and husband Tommy, Robert Akpik, John Titus, Warren Kagak and Alice Akpik, his oldest daughter (far right, standing alongside her husband Robert Akpik),  also sing with the congregation.

Then Warren’s grandchildren sing a special for him…

Followed by his children, their spouses and some of Warren's nephews and nieces who were so close to him and his children as to be considered his sons and daughters, their brothers and sisters...

Warren’s brothers and sisters sing for him.

His sister, Hattie, performed a duet with her husband, Frank Long, jr. The Longs live in Nuiqsut, along with several other members of Warren's extended family.

A large group of nieces and nephews honor their uncle.

Mae Ahgeak, a niece, spoke words of remembrance. When Mae was growing up, she spent so much time in the home and hunting and fishing camps with Warren, his wife Martha and their children that she became like a daughter and sister to them.

The Reverend John Chambers, who served in Barrow in the 1950’s and made Warren his choir director, conducts the services and speaks of Warren’s Christian life. Reverend Chambers is serving as an interim pastor through mid-winter.

Warren’s sister, Myrtle Akootchook, shares memories of her brother.

Son-in-law Jacob Kagak talked about some of the highlights of Warren’s past, as well as personal memories that he and Warren’s children have of him.  I will sum of these up in a future post that I will build around pictures of Warren in life.

Fellow Alaska Territorial Guard veteran Wesley Aiken remembered his life-long friend.

The Presbyterian Point Barrow Choir stands behind their director for a final performance in his honor. A couple of days before his passing, Warren awoke and said, "Aarigaa, atupaluktut, aarigaaaa..." he had heard the heavenly choir.

North Slope Borough Mayor Edward Itta, speaks in honor of Warren Matumeak, and recalls how Warren helped to create Suurimmaanitchuat - a very popular Eskimo dance group.  

Her talent comes naturally, but before Alisha Itta sang, she told the mourners gathered that it was Warren who taught her how to sing for the Lord. Then she sung for him – and she sang beautifully.

Marie Rexford, Betty Brower and Saaniaq and Fenton Rexford brought a song from their village of Kaktovik.

A picture of Warren posing in front of the last bowhead whale that he harpooned. Normally, after the harpooner strikes a whale, he is followed by the shoulder gunner and then is assisted by other crews firing both shoulder and darting guns until the whale is dead. This whale died the instant Warren struck it. The shoulder gun did not need to be fired.

Grandson's John Titus and Robert Akpik.

As the main part of the service draws to an end, Roy Nageak raises his hand into the air in worship. 

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Margie and I take Kalib and Jobe for five days, part 2: We dine on Fourth Avenue hot dogs, where Kalib and I intimidate a security cop

As explained in the first post of this day, Lavina had left early yesterday morning to attend a work conference in Las Vegas, I had driven to town to pick up Kalib, Jobe and Margie to bring them back to Wasilla, and Melanie had showed up to drive Jacob to the airport so he could join Lavina at her conference, but Jacob had not yet returned home from work.

Soon, he did return. He kissed his boys goodbye and then he left with Melanie for the airport.

Anchorage's seemingly interminable, record-breaking streak of consecutive rainy days - 33, I believe - had finally come to an end. It was a wonderfully warm, sunny, and beautiful day - the perfect kind of day to go downtown and buy hotdogs from a Fourth Avenue street vendor.

Margie agreed. I wanted to leave immediately, but Kalib had gone down to the family room, where his parents had put up a tent for him with a tubular passage to the entrance.

So many people have given Kalib so many amazing gifts that I can't get over it.

I found him in the tent. We spent a little bit of time throwing little plastic balls back and forth through the passageway.

Then Kalib had to do a little bit of golfing.

He golfs in the style of the great masters.

Kalib - the golfer.

Finally, we headed for the car. Before he got in, Kalib found a pretty flower, plucked it and held in in his hand.

I strapped both of my grandsons into their car seats - Kalib facing forward, Jobe facing backward. Seeing them strapped in like this made me think about the ever-present dangers of the road. I would be driving with precious cargo. I might encounter another driver or two or three or more who might do something stupid, something to make one's blood boil.

If so, I would just have to ignore it and drive on as steadily and safely as possible.

Then we were downtown on Fourth Avenue, where we were fortunate to find a parking space just 30 yards or so from RA hotdogs. Margie and Jobe stayed in the car while Kalib and I got in line.

This uniformed gentleman got in line behind Kalib. Naturally, I wanted a picture with him standing behind Kalib and it would be best as a low-angle shot, but I did not feel like crouching and getting down on my knees. One neat thing about the pocket camera is that I can hold it quite a ways from my face and still see what it sees in the lcd.

So I held it down a bit below my waist, framed the scene and then just as I pushed the shutter, Kalib moved, halfway out of the frame. This was okay - I like the picture this way - but I still wanted to get a frame with the uniformed man standing behind Kalib with Kalib's face visible.

So I tried again and I sort of got it, but on a bright day when I am holding the pocket camera a ways from my face, I can see the relationships of the more prominent shapes to each other, but some of the little details disappear, such as light fixtures in the background.

And so I wound up taking this image, with the light fixture appearing to be a goofy hat atop his head, or perhaps a bizarre implant.

I had to try one more time.

I decided that the only way that I could be certain to get the image as I wanted was to drop down to one knee so that I would be looking directly into the LCD and could clearly see all the detail.

At the moment that I dropped down and raised the camara, however, the uniformed man stepped backwards, in the belief that he had just exited the frame.

"You're part of the scene," I protested, "you don't need to step out of the picture."

"I really shouldn't be in the picture," he said.

But he is.

A close look at the shield patch on his shoulder reveals that he is a private security guard - for whom I do not know - not a municipal policeman.

I ordered Kosher beef with onions and potato chips for Margie, Kosher beef plain for Kalib and Kosher Polish with onions and chips for me.

It doesn't really matter to me if a hot dog is Kosher or not, but the menu was exclusively Kosher.

Margie and Jobe joined us on a nearby bench. The food proved excellent, the conversation stimulating. Kalib held up a potato chip and mused with wonder as to how such a thing ever managed to be created in a universe so vast, diverse and ALMOST entirely empty of potatoes as ours is.

Kalib grew quite excited when a formation of military jets, presumably from Elmendorf AFB, came flying by. "Jehhh! Jehhh!" he shouted as he pointed at the jets. Actually, he is pointing a bit in front of them. The jets are very difficult to see in this tiny reproduction. If you look very closely at the somewhat larger version in the slide show, a bit over the roof to the right of Kalib's finger, you can barely make them out as tiny dots.

They show up a little better in the original, full-resolution image, but even there they are tiny.

After the jets had flown by and we had finished our hot dogs, we burped politely and then climbed into the car headed towards Wasilla and home. Along the way, I was surprised to see that one traffic officer had pulled over another. I wonder if he had been speeding?

I'll bet he felt a little silly when he asked his fellow, "could I see your license, please?" They have probably known each other for years, perhaps decades.

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(images appear bigger and look better)

In part 3, Kalib and Jobe will arrive at their grandparents home. They will grow sleepy. I may post it tonight or I may post it in the morning. I am kind of sleepy myself and I have other things I need to do.