Aarigaa - a good place to warm up after a cold football game; Dustinn is now back in Arizona

Not only was the air at the football game very cool and moist with the occasional raindrop flying through it, but the wind was stiff, strong and steady. I wasn't dressed warm enough and was thoroughly chilled pretty by the end of it.

So I went to Aarigaa Java to get a beverage that would warm me.

This isn't that picture, though. This is from yesterday, when Dustinn took me there, where we found Thelma, always ready, at 40 above or 40 below to keep her good customers from Barrow warm and awake.

And this is where I said goodbye to Dustinn - in front of Roy Ahmaogak's bungalow, where I am staying. Dustinn wanted a picture of him with the Ilisagvik College van that he used to drive his Media Camp students around.

Here it is Dustinn.

Here is Thelma again, today, handing me a warmup after the football game. I am not in a vehicle but on foot.

This is all I am going to post today. Perhaps by Sunday morning or hopefully early afternoon at the latest, I can get a post up on today's season opener for the Barrow Whalers football team.

For now, I won't say who won or lost. If you are from Barrow or any Slope village, you already know. If you don't know, I might as well keep you in suspense until I can show you a few scenes from the game.

View images as slides

I leave my family and cool and rainy weather behind and drop into sweltering, hot, Barrow where I find Dustinn Craig, teaching young people how to make movies

During my very brief stay at home, I took a number of pictures of my family that I intended to post so that I could let readers know a little bit about what we experienced in our short times together. Included among these were my son Rex with his special new friend, an adventurous young woman by the name of Ama from the San Francisco Bay area who has been out hiking, camping, and kayaking around Alaska.

Unfortunately, I forgot to transfer them into my laptop. This one, final, family image that I took was still in my pocket camera, which I put in my pocket before I left and so it came to Barrow with me.

As you can see, it is of Jobe, studying his dad as he shaves.

I often wonder how it is that Jacob ever learned to shave in the first place.

He sure as hell didn't learn it from me.

I haven't shaved in 92 years - well, maybe its been a little less than that, but not much.

Not long after I boarded the jet that would take me from Anchorage to Barrow, I heard someone call my name from a seat just a few rows behind me. I turned. It was Qaaiyan. For those of you who have read Gift of the Whale, Qaaiyan was the boy making coffee with a pick ax from freshwater ice that he had learned to find on the salty, frozen, sea. 

He was with Jamie and their new baby, Aagluaq. The "g" is supposed to have a dot over it but if there is a way to do that in this program, I do not know it.

For those of who have seen my latest Uiñiq magazine, Jamie is the girl taking the accidental dive, braids flying, off the blanket toss during the Point Hope Nalukatak.

As for Aagluaq, dotted "g," this is my first photograph.

Oh, wait - I think I also posted the picture of Jamie in the Point Lay series I put up on this blog in June of last year. Give me just a moment and I will go check for certain and I will find a link. Oh, heck - I am certain. She's there. I don't need to check, I just need to find the link.

So give me just a moment and I will go find it...

I found it, here it is.

Shortly after we departed Anchorage, the pilot spoke on the intercom to tell us what kind of weather conditions awaited us on our journey. He said it was 80 degrees in Fairbanks, which is not at all that unusual in the summer and it can significantly hotter than that, but when he said it was 70 degrees in Barrow, I wondered if I had heard him right.

It's not that this never happens in Barrow, but it doesn't happen that often. I know - some of you read "70 degrees" and laugh, but let me assure you that in Barrow, 70 degrees is hotter than it is anywhere else that I have ever been. 

When I arrived in Barrow, I found it simply sweltering. Roy Ahmaogak picked me up and brought me home. There, in his parent's living room, I found a a visitor, young Katilynn, desperately trying to cool herself in front of an electric fan. And if you look closely at the background, you will see a hand-fan in motion as well.

I should note that, as of today, it is much cooler: 43 degrees. It is raining and most people would probably consider it cold.

I hope it isn't raining during tomorrow's afternoon football game - the season opener. I plan to be there, taking pictures and I don't want to get my cameras all wet.

I was most happy that this trip to Barrow coincided with a visit by the Apache-Navajo filmmaker Dustinn Craig, the son of my late and special friend, Vincent Craig. I am also proud to call Dustinn my special friend. We were together at the moment of his dad's death and we share some things.

Dustinn was finishing up a two-week Media Camp where he had been teaching filmmaking to a group of young people from high school to college age who had gathered at Ilisagvik College from various Arctic Slope communities.

I dropped in a little more one hour before the students were to show their movies to the public. Most of the movies were finished and ready to be shown, but Gabe Tegoseak, the tall guy in the back, was still finishing up the editing on his - with Dustinn's help, to be certain that it would barely be ready to show.

Gabe's movie starred Gabe himself and it was a take off on a popular TV show about a guy who goes out into wild places to survive only off of what he can take from nature.

Speaking with a perfect Australian-Iñupiaq accent, Gabe leads viewers on a hilarious Iñupiaq survival adventure that begins in the local grocery store and progresses to the tundra, where he eats caribou poop that looks strangely like candy, drinks what appears to be a wildly-squirting fountain of yellow liquid created by his own kidneys and wrestles a dangerous creature from Iñupiaq lore that strangely looks and acts like a kitty cat with a sock on its head.

At least, there is a sock on its head for a few moments.

Damnit. I hate it when people give away the ending or the good parts of a movie and now I just did it myself.

Also pictured are student filmmakers Chris Ross, sitting next to Dustinn, and Joey Atkins. Chris created a dreamlike horror tribute inspired by the work of Alfred Hitchcock and Joey presented a soul-stealing wraith whose fearsomeness was accentuated by the special effects he worked into his film.

Both films were damned frightening, with some humor thrown in.

At points early in the process, these students had felt overwhelmed by the process they faced, but they got through that, had fun and created some good work which I hope is soon online.

Onscreen is Dominque Rose Nayukok of Atqasuk. She created a movie in which she used stills to tell the story of her home village. Unfortunately, her travel schedule had taken her back to Atqasuk earlier in the day, but we got to meet her onscreen.

Agnes Akokok and Lavisa Ahvakana of Wainwright both love to Eskimo dance and so they made Eskimo dance the subject of their movie. Each took their turns onscreen to narrate the action.

Each time that Lavisa appeared onscreen, offscreen she got to feeling a little shy and bashful. She did a good job, though - one that I would say has earned her the right to hold her head high.

As Gabe stands laughing in the background, the audience laughs at his survival film. This kid ought to be on TV performing his antics every week. I think he would be loved, far and wide.

Afterwards, Gabe asked Dustinn if he would help him record some of his own guitar playing and singing, so Dustinn did. April Phillip, who, among her other filmmaking activities played the main character/victim in Chris's Alfred Hitchcock tribute, helped out.

I shot this through the very dust-coated window of the class van as Dustinn drove April and I back into Barrow from Ilisagvik college, located at the old Naval Arctic Research Labratory three miles north of town. It was a beautiful, warm, night and many people were out on the beach, the Chukchi Sea of the Arctic Ocean behind them.

View images as slide show

My trips to Arizona and Anaktuvuk Pass - the connection; on the home front, Jobe, a horse, and some kids

As regular followers of this blog know, I was recently in Arizona, where I journeyed to see my friend Vincent Craig just before he died, and then stayed for his funeral and to visit family. I traveled straight from Arizona to the Brooks Range Alaska village of Anaktuvuk Pass to attend the wedding of Nasuġraq Rainey Higbee to Ben Hopson III (B-III).

I have mentioned that there is tie between the people I gathered with in Arizona and those whom I joined in Anaktuvuk Pass.

You can see that connection right here, in the above photo. This is Velma Kee Craig, Vincent's daughter-in-law through his and Mariddie's oldest son, Dustinn. I took this photo inside the Fort Apache LDS church house during the lunch that was served to family and friends of Vincent right shortly after his burial.

Please note the necklace and earrings that Velma chose to wear to her father-in-law's funeral. Both were made by Nasuġraq Rainey Higbee, whose wedding I would photograph in Anaktuvuk.

The moment that she saw the necklace in an online ad posted by Rainey, Velma loved it and wanted it. "Sorry," Rainey informed her. "That necklace has already been bought."

She did not tell her that it was Dustinn who had bought it. Dustinn had sworn her to secrecy.

In the summer of 1981, two months after Margie, little Jacob, Caleb, Rex, baby Melanie and I rolled into Alaska, I found a job at the Tundra Times, a now defunct weekly newspaper that served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities. I started as a reporter/photographer and then became editor/reporter/photographer for a short time.

Back then, each October during the Alaska Federation of Natives Convention, he Tundra Times would host a banquet. Entertainment would usually include at least one Native American act from Outside. In 1984, I suggested to those planning the banquet that they consider bringing Vincent Craig up to perform and that is just what they did.

Mariddie came with him and they stayed with us in our Wasilla house throughout the convention.

Vincent and Mariddie wanted to take a memento of Native Alaska back to Arizona and so they purchased a pair of mukluks - caribou, if I recall correctly - at one of the arts and crafts booths that are always set up at the convention. They were very pleased with those mukluks.

One night, as I drove them back to Wasilla from convention happenings in Anchorage, the Northern Lights climbed in a glowing green arc over the Talkeetna Mountains, and then divided into various curtains to shimmer, dance, and flash in different colors. Vincent and Mariddie were fascinated

"Dustinn would love this," Vincent said. "He would feel awe."

That's Dustinn above, with Velma and their four children, Chance, Ashlee, Tristan and Kraig. I took this picture in their home, approximately five hours before his father died.

As Dustinn grew, he would often look at those mukluks. He would touch them, smell them, feel the texture of the fur. He would wonder about the place they came from, the people who made them. He would feel a sense of awe and fascination. His dad would tell him they came from Alaska; he would tell him about his friend, me, who lived in Alaska, who had his own airplane that he flew all about his mysterious, northern, land.

After Dustinn became a filmmaker, the primary center of his work became centered on Arizona, primarily on his Apache people, but he also branched out elsewhere - into Northern Alaska. 

In the image above, he is showing me his "Freshwater Ice" film. It tells the story of how, when a loved one dies, Iñupiat people will sometimes venture out onto the salty sea ice to find a certain kind of clear, blue, coveted piece freshwater glacial ice that yields the purest, sweetest, drinking water to be found.

They will chop it up, bring it back to the village, melt it and this will be the drinking water that will quench the thirst of those who gather to bring comfort to the deceased's family.

It is beautiful. It was also a bit amazing to me, to sit in his living room in Mesa, Arizona, and to watch this film that he made, people with faces and voices from Arctic Alaska, all well-known to me.

Dustinn was also hired to teach a film-making workshop at Barrow's Ilisagvik College. One of his students was Nasuġraq Rainey Higbee and another was Iñupiat filmmaker Rachel Edwardson. The three were all about the same age and after class got to spend a good amount of time visiting. 

Dustinn later got to work with Rachel on a film in Point Hope. Here is a trailer showing some of Dustinn's Point Hope work.

They discovered that, as young Native artists working to make a life in Native society that for them was different even than it was for their parents, they faced similar challenges and had much in common. They all became good friends.

And here is Nasuġraq Rainey Hopson, who made the necklace and earrings that Velma Craig wore to her father-in-law's funeral in Arizona, on the evening of the day that she got married in Anaktuvuk Pass.

With her is her sister, Angela and her new brother-in-law, Byron Hopson.

I have a number of pictures and stories yet to post here from my trips to Arizona and Anaktuvuk. Now you will know how the two tie together.

In time, I intend to bring Rachel into this blog as well.

I don't know how to state this without sounding like I am bragging, but it is part of this story, part of this connection, so I have to say it. When I got to Rainey's home, she showed me her stack of the battered Uiñiq magazines that I made and she saved. She told me that she grew with my pictures, that my inspired her and that is why she kept the magazines, why she wanted me to come and photograph her wedding. That is why, after I made my final stop in Arizona at the home of Dustinn Craig to visit he and his mother, I got on an airplane and began the first of the four-leg that would take me to Anaktuvuk Pass.

Now, a little bit from the home front:

Yesterday, I had to go into town to take care of some business. I stopped at Jacob and Lavina's to visit Margie, who is babysitting Jobe. Jobe was asleep in his cradleboard.

Another view of Jobe.

Late in the evening, I took a ride on my bike. I had not gone far before I came upon this group of young people. The girl on the horse told me her name, but I was so certain that I would remember I did not bother to record it. I have forgotten. I do not know the name of the horse, either.

I should have lingered, spent a bit more time with them, learned a bit about that horse and how the girl feels about it and what the kids on the bikes think.

But I didn't. I just quickly stopped, told them what I was doing, got the name that I would forget and then pedaled quickly on.

Update, 11:35 AM Friday: AKponygirl left a comment and identified the horse-riding girl as Marcella. Thank you, Akponygirl!

The funeral of Vincent Craig, Part 3: Visitation at Fort Apache - mourners weep, but they also laugh

I begin my coverage of the day of Vincent's visitation in the backyard of the home where he and Mariddie raised their three sons and where their grandchildren still come to play. People had gathered here to lend comfort to each other and to the family as they waited for the hearse to bring the body of Vincent down from the mortuary in Lakeside for the viewing at Fort Apache.

Among those present was baby Naaneeya, held in the arms of her Aunt Torri Benaly DuQuesnay. In the English language, Naaneeya would be a second niece to Vincent. By Navajo reckoning, she is a granddaughter.

As they waited, women cooked break and other items over the coals of an open fire. The coals would not be discarded, but in the Apache way would be gathered and put to use the following day just before the funeral would come to its end.

After the hearse arrived, those present lined up along the driveway as the driver backed in, military representatives to the one side, pall-bearers and other civilians to the other. Other veterans, including a special honor guard of former Marines, many who had fought in Vietnam, had already gathered at the Fort Apache LDS chapel to prepare to greet Vincent there.

I rode to the chapel in the vehicle of Vincent's brother, Emerson Craig and two other pall bearers, Norman Pete and Ryan Pete, who sat in the back seat. As he drove slowly along the procession route, Emerson told us of a series of dreams that he had after his father, Bob Craig, Navajo Code Talker who fought at Iwo Jima, died.

In the earlier dreams, his father could not talk, but only gesture. In the later dreams, he let his son know that everything was good with him, he was in a good place and had bears to watch over. Among them was a special bear that he would pat on the head. He believed this to be the same bear whose life he had saved during the days of his youth.

The tear that came down his cheek was for at least two people, his father and his brother.

As the hearse drew near to the driveway to the Fort Apache chapel, an honor guard marched in front, Apache cowboys behind and to the side. A long procession of pickup trucks and cars followed.

As the hearse backed toward the chapel doors, the cowboys formed a line and removed their hats.

Vincent's second oldest son, Nephi, stood with his hand on the chest of his six-year old son, Ari, as Vincent was carried into the chapel.

We carried Vincent past his cartoons.

There were military honors, a prayer and then silence followed. Then, softly came the sound of Navajo flute, followed by harmonica and fingers plucking an acoustic guitar in a minor key. Then came the voice of Vincent Craig, singing these words, "My grandfather used to take me to the mountains in my youth and there he would tell me the stories of long ago. Between the four sacred mountains we lived in harmony but now you tell me that we've got to go, because someone drew a line..."

It was his song, Someone Drew A Line, about the forced removal of the Navajo people from their homeland to the Basque Redondo, where so many died before they were allowed to return.

As all others stepped backed to wait, Vincent's family, including wife Mariddie in the dark-patterned camp dress, his sons and a grandson, gathered beside the casket to look upon this man who had given them life and had then filled their lives with something extraordinary and special.

From that point until the closing prayer, the room would be filled with the sound of Vincent's voice, singing to his own accompaniment on guitar, flute, harmonica, mandolin, keyboard - whatever this artist of multiple talent had felt necessary to convey his message.

Comfort was brought to his wife, Mariddie, who he always called by her middle name, Ann.

Comfort was also gladly accepted by Dustinn, the eldest son of Vincent and Mariddie, and by Mariddie's sister, Charlotte.

An old friend of the family shares some good memories of Vincent with Mariddie.

In her pain, Mariddie also extended comfort - here to her son, Nephi.

Mariddie's cousin, Gretchen Ethelbah sheds some tears as she turns away from the casket. Grief was not limited to family members. As I hope I have made clear in earlier posts, those who loved Vincent for the great gifts that he had brought to them through his music, songwriting, poetry and cartoons number in the legions.

Vincent Craig was one of the most beloved individuals in all of Indian Country.

Despite the solemnity of the event, those who had shed tears for Vincent when they stood beside his open casket smiled as they filed past his cartoons.

And sometimes, they laughed out loud. Of all the pictures I have taken since I left Alaska, if I could somehow show but one to Vincent Craig, this would be it. And I know what he would do. He would laugh - loud and hard.

I grew up hearing that a comic should never laugh at his own jokes. This did not apply to Vincent. He laughed. He always laughed.

Mariddie and her sons Nephi, Shiloh and Dustinn. They continue to share the love they had with husband and father with each other.

During the lunch, Phoebe Nez, a good friend of the family, served acorn stew.

As I was eating my acorn stew, a little head suddenly popped up between me and the table. It was this girl, whose name I do not know, but she stayed close to me throughout lunch, sometimes darting laughingly off, but only to quickly return in surprise fashion. 

Members of the Bylas Marine Veterans Honor Guard from the San Carlos Apache Reservation took their turns standing guard at the head of the casket.

Emerson wraps his arms around his weeping niece, Haily Mae Perry.

One Marine Veteran who could not be present in the flesh to pay his honor and respect was the late Bob Craig, Vincent's father. Yet, if you look closely at the Pendleton blanket draped over the edge of Vincent's coffin, or, better yet, click on this image to see a large version, you will see the words, Codetalker. 

This was a special issue Pendleton blanket, done just for the Navajo Codetalkers. Before his coffin would be closed for burial, this blanket, created for his father, would be wrapped around Vincent, so that it encased him and all that he wore.

In this way, Vincent Craig would go to the grave wrapped in the love of his father.

A Boy Scout who came to pay his respects. As I earlier noted, back in our days together, Vincent organized a boy scout troop and I accompanied them camping and hiking.

I took this image about five-and-a-half hours into the viewing. The room had been packed at the beginning and would be packed at the end. The only time the crowd gathered inside thinned out much at all was during the late afternoon meal.

Nephi and Ari.

In the late evening, just before we returned the body of Vincent to the hearse.

In the interlude, I take a walk to Riverview Park

Yesterday, the Craig family gathered at the home of Dustinn, Vincent and Mariddie's eldest son, to decide where and when the various events and services would be held. The final decision was that a visitation will take place Thursday from 1:00 to 8:00 PM at the local Fort Apache Branch of the Mormon Church. That chapel is too small to accommodate all the guests expected to attend the funeral, so the services will be held the following morning at 10:00 AM at the large Pinetop-Lakeside Mormon Stake Center in Lakeside, a town just beyond the border of the Fort Apache Indian Reservation, home to the White Mountain Apache Tribe.

After the service, a funeral procession will work its way 25 miles down the winding highway that descends the White Mountains into Whiteriver, where Vincent will be buried with full military honors. Vincent is Navajo, but, like my wife Margie, Mariddie is Apache and it is in Whiteriver that the couple and their family has spent most of their life. One can be certain, however, that many Navajos will be present, along with members of other tribes and plenty of non-Indians, too.

Afterward, there will be a feast at the Fort Apache chapel.

Just before the family meeting began, there was a feast at Dustinn's house. As the older people visited, Taikayah, a granddaughter to Vincent and Mariddie through Mariddie's cousin Alicia, hula-hooped in the backyard.

As evening approached, I took a walk toward Riverview Park, just a few blocks from Dustinn's house. A jet, on final approach to Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport, passed overhead.

I found four softball diamonds, with a game going on each one.

A jet flew over the game as well. 

Not far away, a saguaro cactus stood tall as still another in an endless procession of jets slipped down toward the runway.

It was the kind of evening I have not seen in years. Not blistering hot as Phoenix can be at this time of year, but very warm, with twilight rapidly chasing the setting sun and then darkness coming in behind that.

It does not happen this way in Alaska. 

The feeling was pleasant yet, given the events of the past 24 hours and my state of mind, ethereal and strange.

A boy ran around the edge of the man-made pond at Riverview Park.

After the walk, I returned. I had a press release to write, but Dustinn and I stayed up into the morning hours, talking. He showed me many of his photos and video clips, including footage from his father's final performance February 6 at the Tahon O'Odhama Tribal Fair in Sells, Arizona. 

In the footage, Vincent looked very weak and peaked, but extremely determined to get out there, be Vincent Craig and please his audience - which he did. The emotion between he and his audience was strong. Dustinn also showed me several images from the project that he has been doing for years on young Apache skateboard enthusiasts. He employed many of these same young men to fill the roles of Apache men in the feature length film on the Chiricahua Apache Geronimo that he created for the PBS series, American Experience.

These tend to be young men who find it hard to find their place in modern society, but they do find it with their skateboards and with each other. They wear baggy pants and dress the same as do skateboarders in the big cities. Dustinn showed many pictures of them with their skateboards - and then also dressed in the type of clothing worn by the Apache Scouts of the later 19th century.

It was an amazing transformation. They looked the part. In my opinion, in his skateboard series, Dustinn is in the process of creating an exceptionally powerful story. When he is ready to show it to the world, I will provide links. In his efforts to work with these young men, who, I can see from his photos, respect and admire him, he reminds me of his father.

Now, it is late the next day and I have been diverted by many things, from the need to write a simple press release that proved very difficult for me to complete, to a strange, bizarre and time-consuming process to pick up a rental car and, after I did, to making a couple of wrong turns and then wandering around for far too long, always close to but seemingly never to reach my destination - but I did.

Soon, I must drive north, to the White Mountains, in my rental car. I do not have the time to begin the series of remembrances of Vincent Craig that I had planned to begin today. I hope to start tomorrow.