Flying home, part 2: Study through Window Seat 1D, Alaska Airlines Flight 52: passengers boarding in Fairbanks

Study through Window Seat 1D, #1:  Many people got off the plane in Fairbanks, but all passengers traveling on to Anchorage were asked to stay on board. 

So I did, and then I noticed these two guys through Window Seat 1D.

Thus I began my study.

I am pretty certain that within 45 minutes of when I post, I will begin to receive calls from the most prestigious museums in the world, from places like New York, Paris, Singapore, Tokyo, London, Rio De Janeiro, Delhi, Dubai, Adis Abeba, Rome, and Winnemucca.

They will all want to hang this study on their walls. And they won't even have to frame the images, because they're already framed.

"Thank you, Bill," the curators will praise, "for saving us the cost of the frames."

Study through Window Seat 1D, #2: Alaska Airlines employees remove the trash that accumulated on Flight 52 during the Barrow-Fairbanks segment.

Perhaps the empty bag that once contained the pretzels and nuts that was given to me free of extra charge by Alaska Airlines is in that bag.

If so, then this is a truly historic moment.

If not, then, so what?

Study through Window Seat 1D, #3: One of the two guys from Study #1 returns - the one with the long bill on his cap.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #4: The guy seems to feel slightly self-conscious about his tie - or maybe its cold out there and he is trying to cover a little more of himself with his jacket. Except for the cap, he looks like a pilot. 

Maybe that's a pilot's cap and I am just behind the times, and didn't know.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #5: The first of the Fairbanks passengers comes down the chute - and she is mighty cute.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #6: The woman who appears to be her mother guides her along her path. This is what mothers do.

I see another little hand behind her. Who could it belong to?

Study through Window Seat 1D, #7: Why, it's The Little Boy in Blue! He is well-prepared to take a nap.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #8: The woman who succeeded in boarding with three carry ons.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #9: If the situation had been reversed, had it been me walking down that chute towards the door and this gentleman sitting by seat 1D with a camera in his hands, then he could have taken my picture.

But that's not how it was.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #10: Some people carry their bag into the plane, some people roll them. This lady is one of the rollers.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #11: Not long ago, she was in the cold. Now she is about to enter the warmth of the airplane.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #12: You first. No, you first. No, you've got a rolling bag - you first. No, you - you're tall, and you might bump your head, so please go first!

They were both too late. It was the little girl in Study #5 who entered first.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #13: I thought that she should have brought one for every passenger on the plane and the pilots and stewardesses, too.

I wound up ordering cranberry juice. Even on the short hop from Fairbanks to Anchorage, you can do that in First Class. In coach, you have a choice of water or orange juice.

And to think, I wound up in First Class by chance, with a coach ticket, and got all this extra service that I was undeserving of.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #14: The girl in blue; the man in the green vest. For some reason, I think the man in the green vest likes to hunt ducks. But maybe he doesn't. Maybe he is a vegetarian and only eats tofu, asparagus and lentil beans.

Study through Window Seat 1D, #15: As do all studies, this one must come to an end and so it does, right here.

Yet, when one study ends, a new one can begin. Right after I took the final picture of the previous study, a couple, who looked to be in love, entered the plane. The woman sat down beside me, in Seat 1C, where I had been originally. The man sat down in Seat 1A, by the window on the other side of the aisle.

This did not seem right, so I offered to trade places with the man.

Once I took his seat, I lost the view of passengers exiting the chute to board the plane.

After all the Fairbanks passengers had boarded, this scene appeared before me:

Study from Alaska Airlines Flight 52, Seat 1A: Stewardess on the Other Side, After the Door Has Been Closed

Rex picked me up in my car, then he drove me to the driveway of his basement apartment and we sat in the driveway and talked for quite awhile.

Above, in Melanie's house, the lights were on even though it was after midnight. So I went up and visited Melanie and Charlie.

Then I drove home, got to bed about 3:00 AM, took a few hours sleep and then had breakfast at Family Restaurant.

As I waited for my food, this girl walked by my window. At the moment I took this picture, she is looked straight into my eyes, but the camera was out in front of me a ways.

I wonder what she thought of me?

I probably looked old and frightening.

This fellow must have been thinking about something happy.

Now I will post this and then drive to Anchorage to see my family members there.

My next post will include a Kalib/new-baby-in-waiting update.

Flying home, part 1: I see my Shadow in Barrow; Ethel Patkotak - Master of Indian and Indigenous Law; Little Alan; familiar faces on a jet airplane

Here I am in my town parka, still in Barrow, but leaving soon, walking under a street lamp that stands not over a street but a snowmachine trail. In one hand, I hold my laptop computer, in the other, my pocket camera, the very one that I took this picture with.

I took my big, pro, DSLR cameras to Barrow just in case something came up that I needed to photograph for professional reasons, but nothing did. I never removed those cameras from the bag. They were dead weight the whole trip.

I shot only the pocket camera.

I have already made it clear that I am not a wedding photographer and I do not shoot weddings for hire. Yet, a couple of years back, I did shoot the wedding of Quuniq Donavan to Ruby Aiken. Before I left Barrow, I stopped by for a short visit. 

Quuniq said the dog could be mean so he held him back as I went to the door.

Shortly before it was time for me to leave to catch the jet south, I was sitting at a desk that I hi-jacked in the North Slope Borough Mayor's office, doing a little work on my computer, when I heard a female voice. "I have your book. I paid an arm and a leg for it and I would like you to sign it." It was Ethel Patkotak, originally of Wainwright. It was after working hours, and everybody else had left.

I wondered how this could be. "How much did you pay for it?" I asked.

"$500," she answered.

No, I protested, this could not be, that is impossible!

So she explained. What she had done was to make a membership contribution at the $500 level to Barrow's public radio station, KBRW. Mayor Itta had contributed copies of the book to be given to those who donated at the $500 level.

I was blown away.

See the sash hanging on the wall behind her?

That is what Ethel wore with her cap and gown when she graduated with an advanced Law Degree from the University of Tulsa college of Law in December of 2008. She was an honor student and graduated with as a Master of Laws in American Indian and Indigenous Law. She is also an alumni of Northern Illinois University College of Law and Stanford University in California.

She is now working for the Borough as a Special Assitant to the Mayor, under the Direction of his Chief Administrative Officer, Harold Curran, an attorney. Her focus is largely on environmental and wildlife issues.

She also loves airplanes, just like I do.

Next I went back to Roy's place, to pick up my stuff, but before I left I dropped in next door to say goodbye to Savik, Myrna and all present. That included Little Alan, who you met two posts ago, playing a computer game as he sits with his mother, Shareen.

When I got on the plane, I did not know where to sit. The seat assignment was listed on my boarding pass, all right, but was hardly legible. It looked like it read, "1c," but I knew that couldn't be right, as that was in first class and I did not have a first class ticket.

So I showed it to the Stewardess. "It looks like 1c to me," she said. So I got to ride in First Class at coach rate. All I can figure is that it must have been a weight and balance issue, that they needed more people in first class than just those who paid for the luxory.

The blonde sitting by the window reading is author Debby Edwardson, who has lived in Barrow all of her adult life. Her most recent book is the novel Blessing's Bead, published by Farrar Straus and Gireoux, 2009. I am embarrassed to say that I have not yet read it, but I will, not only because Debby wrote it, but because it is a Barrow book and it has been well-reviewed.

She also authored the illustrated children's book, Whale Snow. She is married to George Edwardson, an Iñupiaq man who has taken on the oil companies in a fight to keep them out of the home of the bowhead whale.

Sitting behind her to the right is Rachel Riley, of Anaktuvuk Pass. Rachel was in the Barrow High Gymnasium on June 12, 2008, when I took my foolish fall and shattered my shoulder. So she was a witness to that event. When I first met her over a quarter a century ago, her house had caught fire. It had burned enough to be a total loss, but not to fall down.

Tom Opie was then the Chief of the North Slope Borough Fire Department, so he flew down to Anaktuvuk Pass to train local volunteer fire fighters. Several times, they set Rachel's house back on fire, and then went in and put the flames out all over again.

I got to put on a firefighter's outfit and oxygen mask and crawl into the burning house on my belly under the smoke with them. It was only a drill, but it was tough. It increased my respect for firefighters.

The lady sitting by the window behind her is Mary Sage, who is an excellent Eskimo dancer and a good photographer. She has had several photos published in the Anchorage Daily News. Sometimes, when I have had a photo I have needed to get identified I have contacted her on Facebook and she has helped me out.

I am embarrassed that the name of the lady sitting next to slips my mind. This is happening to me more and more.

As to the idenity of the man scratching his head, I haven't the slightest idea who he is.

This is how it is in Alaska when you board a jet plane. There will be strangers on board, but there are always many familiar faces.

Alaska is the biggest small town in the USA - perhaps the world.

And the Stewardesses are friendly - especially when you unexpectedly wind up in First Class. 

Shortly after this, I got what I believe to be a pretty neat series of pictures that I took while sitting in First Class, but it is late and I need to go to bed.

I will try to make a second post after I get up, before I drive into Anchorage to pay a visit to Little Kalib, his fish, his dad and mom - who, I am happy to say, has not yet had to go to the delivery room although she continues to experience low-level contractions.

Lisa and I are thinking about taking in a movie and Melanie has invited me to eat at a new Indian Restaurant, which actually serves South India food as well as North, and I believe Rex and Charlie will be there, too. So we will dine, and as we do, we will think of Southern India, of Soundarya and Anil, Sujitha, Ganesh, Buddy, Murthy, Vasanthi, Vivek, Khena, Vijay, Vidya and all the other members of our Indian family. I hear that the food is excellent and I do not doubt it. Yet, I do not think it will be quite so good as that prepared by Vasanthi, for Melanie and me.

I do not know what Caleb will do.

As for Margie, she remains in Arizona, completely snowed under by a series of huge storms that have dumped over four feet upon her sister's house in the White Mountains. They lost all power and for a full day I could not contact her by phone, because their cell service was gone, too.

Every time I tell someone that Margie is in Arizona, they say something like, "Oh! I'll bet she's really enjoying the sun and warm weather."

Smoked salmon, Trevor Study # 5 and the flight to Barrow; Aarigaa Java (Good Coffee) with the temperature closing in on 40 below

The lady at the baggage counter informed me that the current temperature in Barrow was -33, and then I went through security where a huge man with gigantic hands patted me down. Frankly, I would have been less uncomfortable if it had been a petite woman with small hands.

I then continued on through the concourse toward Gate C-4, when I saw Janey coming in the opposite direction. We stopped to give each other hugs and then she pulled a packed of king salmon, smoked Yup'ik style, out of her bag and gave it to me.

Janey had been in Bethel, where someone had given her a bunch of salmon. When she learned that I was going to Barrow, she wanted to come, too, but she was going south.

The kid sitting by the window is Trevor, who graduated from Wasilla High with Caleb. Over the past few years, I have happened upon him a number of times at airports and in villages where he has gone to work on construction projects.

Even before I started this blog, I kept a photo journal, so I always photographed him and put him in it.

I have enough photos of Trevor to start calling him a study. So I will call this, "Trevor Study, #5" - five being a number I just picked out of the air, because I really don't know how many times I have photographed him so far.

He was on his way to Wainwright, via Barrow, to work on the ongoing water and sewer project there.

I wonder where "Trevor Study, #6" will be photographed?

These two board in Anchorage. They will debark in Fairbanks.

The flight from Anchorage to Fairbanks is only 40 minutes, so they offer you a choice of only two beverages, water or orange juice. I went for the water. I was parched, so I was glad to get that water.

We dropped the Fairbanks people off, picked up a few dozen more passengers, then headed on to Barrow. Now we are about to get off. I am sorry, but I have forgotten their names. 

I join my fellow passengers and debark in Barrow, where the temperature is still - 33. I am a little disappointed. I had hoped it would be colder.

People come from all over the world to drive Taxi's in Barrow. I have had drivers from Latvia, the Middle East, Korean, Phillipines - from all over. This fellow is from Asia and had a strong accent, but I don't know what country.

He dropped me off here, at Roy Ahmaogak's house. Roy is my host and that is his dog, Dawson, who has been around for a long time.

In the summer, Dawson jumps in the boat and goes to caribou and fish camp.

 

This morning when I got up, it was still -33, but then temperature started to drop. I took this picture at 12:30, as I walked to lunch at Osaka, eager to order Bento Box #3, which comes with three pieces of sushi, Terriyaki chicken, miso soup, rice, and a wide array of tempura vegetables and shrimp, plus a pot sticker.

About 3:30, I headed over to Aarigaa Java. "Aarigaa" is the Iñupiat word for "excellent, superb - very good."

"Hi Bill. You want your Americano?" Thelma asked when Noe drove us up to the window. Thelma does not forget, even though it has been six months since I last came to this window.

By now, the temperature was approaching -40 and still dropping.

This caused me to feel better about things.

In the evening, I took a short walk and photographed the steeple of the Utgiaqvik Presbyterian Church. I brought my big DSLR's on this trip, but I did no photography work today so I never got them out.

I stuck with the pocket camera.

No, it can't match the DSLR's in so many ways, but I love the pocket camera. It is so much fun.

2009 in review - April: begins with moose in the yard; ends on a crazy-hot day on the Arctic ice

April began with a mama and her calf, dining in our backyard.

This is Jim, an amateur weatherman who I sometimes come across while walking. Our winter was drawing to its end. Jim had recorded 57 days below zero at his house, several in the - 30's and a few in the - 40's. Total snowfall had been eight feet.

Wasilla, of course, is in one of Alaska's moderate climate zones.

It discourages and depresses me to walk through Serendipity too often, but occasionally I do. I did this day and Muzzy came with me. I don't know how he manages to store up so much pee, but he marked every single property on his side of the street as his.

When we entered break-up for real, I got my bike out and started to pedal. You can see I still had the brace on my right wrist. I did not yet know it, and would have thought the opposite, but bike riding would prove to be great physical therapy for my wrist and shoulder.

As long as I didn't crash.

Becky, a young neighbor who lives on Seldon, gave Muzzy some love.

I saw this little character in the Post Office parking lot.

This happened on one of those mornings that I had to get out of the house and go get breakfast at Family Restaurant. These two guys had a nice little conversation and I am certain that it was friendly.

This guy stepped onto the side of the road to remind everybody they had to pay their taxes. Thanks to my injury, I had made very little money in 2008 and hardly had to pay any tax at all.

This year, I have made a decent income, but 2008 put me so deep into the hole that it does not feel like it at all. It feels like I am drowning, going under and maybe I am.

It would be okay if it were just me, because I could move into a shack and blog about it, but I hate to take Margie there. She has gone through so much and given up so much just to be with me these past few decades. She deserves much better than that.

It looks like tax time will be hell.

But I have 3.5 months to figure it out, so maybe it will be okay.

Many times in my career, I have brought us to the very brink.

And always, something has come along to save us.

By Easter, the snow had largely left our yard. We hid Easter eggs in the bare parts. Kalib went out and found them. We did not really hide them that good.

Kalib was pleased to discover that he could use guacamole to stick a chip to his face.

As I prepared to go north, Kalib played harpoon the whale. Kalib was the harpooner, Muzzy the whale.

Size ratio just about right.

I was glad to be going north, but it was very hard to leave this guy.

To me, what you are looking at is still a bit unbelievable. I had never imagined that I would see such a thing. The date is April 27, the place, Barrow, Alaska.

Barrow does not look like this on April 27. In Barrow, everything is frozen solid on April 27. On April 27, the temperature is either below zero F, or just a few degrees above. The wind drives a continual flow of snow low over the hardened drifts.

But not this April 27. On this April 27, the snow was melting. The air felt warm. No one living had ever before seen such a thing here, nor was there any record of this having ever happened, prior to this year. No one living who knows this place at all would have believed they ever would see such a thing.

It was causing problems for the whale hunters, making ice conditions dangerous.

I would like to say that this was a complete fluke and that no one will ever see it happen again - and it did finally freeze up again - but, these days, with the summer sea ice receding to unheard of levels, with polar bears and walrus losing the summer ice they need to live on, with animals, fish, and birds that have never been here before coming up from the south, with new species of plants taking root...

Willie Hensley of Kotzebue came to Barrow while I was there and did a reading, slide show and book signing for his autobiography, Fifty Miles From Tomorrow.

I bought a copy, had him sign it and then read it on the jet to India.

It kept me completely absorbed.

What a childhood he had, living the old time Iñupiaq life - and then to go on to fill a lead role in the movement that led to the Alaska Native Land Claims Settlement Act and after that to become a politician, corporate leader and now an author.

This is one of those books that anyone who loves Alaska should read.

Might I also suggest that you read Gift of the Whale, too, if you haven't already?

You don't need to buy it - go find it in a library somewhere.

After several days in Barrow, I bought a ticket to Wainwright, thinking that after I spent a short time there, I would buy another to Point Lay. But I was about to discover that now that only one commuter airline serves the Arctic coast, they don't even let you do that anymore

If you want to fly from Barrow to Wainwright and then on to Point Lay, you have to buy two round trip tickets from Barrow, one to each place. That is kind of taking a trip from San Francisco to Portland and Seattle, only to find you have to buy two separate round trip tickets, one from San Francisco to Portland, and then back to San Francisco and then to Seattle.

And the prices!

If I had done both villages, my trip from Anchorage to Barrow, Wainwright and Point Lay would have cost me more than the round trip I had pending that would take me from Anchorage to Bangalore, India.

HOW RIDICULOUS IS THAT??????

In the photo above, the airplane is landing in Atqasuk, enroute to Wainwright.

For you in the south, please remember, no roads connect the villages of the Arctic to each other.

Whyborn Nungasuk boarded the plane in Atqasuk, headed for Wainwright. For those of you who have read Gift of the Whale, Whyborn is the man who organized the search for Harry Norton. He is one of those people that I am always glad to see.  I thought he must be going to do a little whaling, because Atqasuk is a land-locked village and Whyborn has often whaled in Wainwright.

"You headed to Wainwright to go whaling?" I asked.

"Not whaling," he said, "to talk about Jesus."

That night, they were having the regularly scheduled Wednesday singspiration at the Wainwright Presbyterian Church. I stopped by, to listen the listen to the gospel singing.

At a certain point, Whyborn got up to make a testimony. He told of a recent fall whale hunt that he been on in Barrow. A whale had been taken, and then roped to the boats that would pull it the landing site. Whyborn was in one of those boats, but something went wrong and he was accidently jerked out out of that boat by the rope and into the water.

He went under, and he stayed under long enough to begin to drown, perhaps to drown altogether.

As he drowned, he found himself in a pleasant, warm, place. "There were beautiful flowers, and beautiful butterflies, flying," he said. "Jesus was there."

Whyborn liked that place. He was glad to have arrived.

Then hands took hold of his parka and pulled him out of the water. Those who pulled him out revived him.

When he came too and saw that he was still alive, Whyborn looked at his brother, who had helped to save him.

"Why did you bring me back?" he asked. 

"Death," Whyborn said, "holds no fear for me now."

My wrist was still in a brace. My shoulder still hurt 100 percent of the time and felt fragile to me. I had a fear that I could not stand up to the rigors of the whaling life. I did not plan to go on the ice.

But on April 30, Jason headed out to make a boat ramp where the lead had briefly been, where he hoped it would open again. His younger sister had been planning to go out and help, but she had hurt her wrist, and couldn't.

So a snowmachine was available. I climbed on that snowmachine and found that if I did not grip the throttle in the usual way but pushed it forward with my thumb supported against my brace, I could drive it. At first, I tried to fit a glove over my hand and brace, but the weather was so warm that I found I didn't even need the glove so I took it off.

The fellow with the red on his hat in the background, that's Iceberg 14 co-whaling captain Jason Ahmaogak. The young man chucking the block of ice out of the boat ramp is Jerry Ahmaogak.

This would prove to be one of the hardest whaling seasons on record, all up and down the Arctic coast.

But in June, well after the hunt would normally have ended, Jason would guide the Iceberg 14 boat to the only whale that Wainwright would land. Jerry would harpoon it. Young Benny Ahmaogak, who is also out here building the boat ramp, would fire the shoulder gun.

2009 in review - January: we attend Barack Obama's Inaugural, Margie breaks bones, a kind lady puts us up in her elegant guest house

As you can see, January, 2009, got off to a reasonably pleasant start. I was still recovering from my shoulder injury and replacement surgery nearly seven months earlier, but was doing better than the doctor had expected. Margie was Kalib's official babysitter while his parents went off to work.

She was loving every minute of it.

And we had a big and exciting trip planned.

That trip was to Washington, DC, to take part in the Inauguaration of President Barack Obama. I don't get a haircut and beard trim for just anyone, but, for the President of the United States, I figured I would do it.

So I went to see Celia and she did a good job.

This picture shocks me (not the one on the wall - that one just frustrates me - but the one of me). I now look more than just one-year older than I did here. That's the kind of year it has been - and it began in January.

Margie, Lisa and I flew to New York, because it was altogether to expensive to fly to Washington, DC. We rented a car for the shockingly low price of $23 a day and drove down. On January 20, I arose at 3:00 AM and rousted Margie and Lisa, to be certain that we would not miss the first train to roll through the Metro subway, scheduled to leave the Friendship Heights station in the Chevy Chase area at 4:20 AM.  We were the guests of Greg and Julie, an extremely nice couple who live across the street from Alice Rogoff, the philanthropist who founded the Alaska House New York,  and closely associated it with the Alaska Native Arts Foundation. She is now publisher of the online news magazine, The Alaska Dispatch.

Right on schedule, we boarded the Metro and found the crowd to be surprisingly light - until we reached the very next station. When the doors opened, people poured in - and they would continue to do so at each stop until no more would fit. It was hot in the train car and I began to sweat. 

The gentleman above joined us at an early stop. He brandished an American flag with an image of Barack Obama emblazoned on it. "I'm so happy!" he sang, joyously, "I'm from Africa, living in America, Africa, living in America, Barack Obama, I'm so happy..."

He sang too of his father, in Sierra Leone, who he wished could be here, in America, to celebrate this wonderful day. "I'm so happy, in America, from Africa. Barack Obama! Africa, America. I'm so happy."

I could detect nothing but happiness, joy and goodwill anywhere. Smiles abounded throughout the car, people of all race and background laughed and mingled with those nearby. There was no tension, not between races, not between individuals; good will abounded.

The day was off to a good start.

We who traveled down in the Metro flowed like rivers of humanity through the concrete channels that lace the earth beneath Washington, D.C. toward the grand confluence where we would soon converge into a sea of two million that would cover the entire National Mall from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol.

One river of humanity flows outward through the metro gates.

And then the flow goes up and out of the Metro at L'Enfant Plaza. 

I had managed to get two press passes - one for me and one for Lisa, to be my assistant and help me carry things. I thought this was going to be special and really give us access, but, as it turned out, the passes would allow us to go in and out of any area in the mall at will, and to a little bleacher area set up for photographers and such, but not up to the Capitol steps, where the swearing in would take place.

The bleacher area was not a place I wanted to take photos from and there was no way to move freely about, in and out, out and in, in this packed crowd. So we worked our way into as good a position as we seemed likely to get, staked our ground and there we stayed - for hours upon hours upon hours, in the cold.

And it was cold. Nothing like true Alaska cold, which, dressed as we were, would have killed us in that time, but none-the-less it was a long wait and it could have been unpleasant, but it wasn't. There was too much excitement and everyone around us was happy.

Finally, the President elect and wife Michele walked out. If you have really, really, good eyes, then you can see him right up there on the Capitol steps - but it is a lot easier just to look at the big monitor.

Obama steps up to be sworn in and to deliver his speech.

Yes, it was a joyous crowd.

Lisa listens intently as the man she campaigned so hard for speaks. She worked phone banks, she knocked on many doors. She carried signs. And when he won, she spontaneously went and bought herself a ticket. 

So Margie and I decided to come with her.

Faces in the crowd, as they listen to their new President, Barack Obama, deliver his Inaugural Address.

Lisa cheers for her new President.

Afterward, we found Margie. She was cold, but happy to have been there, to have witnessed history. We spent the next several hours in the mall area, but Lisa had found the on-location offices of MSNBC and did not want to leave.

So finally, about 8:00 PM, Margie and I boarded the train back to Friendship Heights and left Lisa on her own. This scared me a little bit, but she is an adult, after all. By now, we had bags full of souvenirs.

Between my cameras and our bags of souvenirs, including Lisa's, our hands were full as we stepped off the Metro train at Friendship Heights and rode the escalator to the surface.

We then stepped into the outside air, waited for the light to turn green and then stepped into the crosswalk. Margie walked right beside me as we crossed but then, just as I was about to step up onto the curb, she vanished. Then I heard a whimper. I turned, and found her lying in the gutter.

I went to help her up, but she could not get up - her pain was too great. Yet, she insisted that she was not badly hurt and would soon be okay.

Some passers by waved down a police car, and the officers quickly summoned an ambulance and a team of paramedics.

But Margie refused to get into the ambulance, or to let the paramedics do anything more than help her to her feet. Once standing, she could not move. The pain in her left knee and right wrist was too great. Still, she would not get into the ambulance.

I had parked the rental car about two blocks away. I went and got it, came back, picked her up and drove her to the hospital myself. There, we learned that she had fractured both her right knee and her left wrist.

We put in a long and miserable night - especially for Margie.

In the light of the day, I went back to check out the crack that had tripped her. This is it.

Please note that the wheels of the little red car are both inside the crosswalk. So is the crack. I remain angry about this. There are many poor neighborhoods in the Washington, DC, area, but this isn't one of them. They should have repaired this crack long before it reached this state.

In the daytime, I doubt that she would have tripped. But in the night, tired, after a long, long, day, cold, carrying bags of souvenirs, that crack got her.

And her life has never been the same since. She has not worked a day or earned even one single a dollar. She was part time, so there was no Workers Comp or unemployment for her (just as there was none for me as a self-employed freelance photographer after I got hurt). Worst of all, she has not been able to care for little Kalib as she had imagined she would.

For a brief moment, I thought about taking legal action, but then we just moved on with life instead.

Alice Rogoff had hosted Barrow's Suurimmaanitchuat Iñupiat Eskimo dancers in her guest house. Now, she moved us in and told us to stay for as long as we needed.

I do not know what we would have done if she had not done so. Days would pass before Margie could even think of moving out of this room - let alone traveling. 

Alice Rogoff - I can never thank you enough.

And what a guest house it was!

When finally we decided to leave, we knew Margie could not handle the long trip back to Alaska without a break. So we drove back to New York and then flew to Salt Lake City, where my sister, Mary Ann, at right, picked us up and took us to her house.

It had been a miserable flight. Margie could not get into the airplane restrooms, nor could she fit her leg under the seat in front of her. Before we left New York, I had to take her into a ladies room. It was embarrassing, but I had no choice. The ladies room was crowded, too, and the ladies looked at me strangely, but once they figured out was going on, they were cool with it.

And here she is, at the Alaska Native Medical Center in Anchorage, after we got home. Today, as she limped and hobbled slowly about, I asked her if she was still glad she went to the Inaugural. 

"Yes," she said. 

Little Kalib had to enroll in day care. But he enjoys it there.

You can find my original coverage of the Inaugural here.  I ended that coverage with a statement that included these paragraphs:

True, as the situation grows worse, I suspect that even many who now cheer him will grow impatient and will issue their own harsh criticisms of the man they helped elect. Perhaps I will, myself.

Obviously, none of us can yet know how well our new President will handle the many crisis that he inherited and he will undoubtedly make some bad mistakes. For this, he will be loudly condemned.

Yet, it is my personal belief that, right now, the United States of America is in need of a leader the likes of which we have not seen at least since World War II. A great leader. As Colin Powell said, a transformational leader. One who can not only inspire us but convince us to make the kinds of sacrifice that we modern day Americans do not like to make.

Considering the challenges, without such a leader, it seems unlikely that United States will continue as the great power that it has been since World War II. Looking at all of our national leaders, in all parties, I do not see the potential of such a leader except in one individual: our new President, Barack Obama. I do believe he has that potential. Whether the potential will be fulfilled, I do not know. 

I still hold to this statement and continue to believe the above words to be true.

Please note: A separate entry, titled Today in Wasilla, was posted 20 minutes prior to this one.