Anaktuvuk Pass: remembering loved ones who have passed on

This is the post that I had planned to put up Tuesday morning, but I could not get online. 

I arrived in Anaktuvuk Pass on Memorial Day afternoon with several friends and relatives of Ben (B-III) Hopson the Third and Nasuġraq Rainey Higbee, who would wed the next day.

There was much good food in the house - caribou stew, caribou meat, fresh rolls and such and I had already fed myself a good sampling of it when I learned that the community was going to gather at the cemetery at 5:00 PM, to remember loved ones buried there and to feast in their honor.

When the time came, I joined several members of the wedding party and we walked over together.

When we arrived, I saw a group of people gathered just off the southern edge of the cemetery, the mountains of the Brooks Range rising behind, in front of and all around them. They were praying.

The man leading the prayer was Dr. James Nageak, an Iñupiaq hunter, scholar, retired university professor and Presbyterian preacher. That's James to the left, wearing the green coat.

He thanked the Lord for the lives lived by all those buried here, and for the beautiful land and the animals that had sustained them and that continue to sustain the people of Anaktuvuk Pass today.

After he finished, the Reverend Keith Johnston, right, who now serves as pastor for Anaktuvuk's Presbyterian "Chapel in the Mountains," read scripture.

Then the feasting began. Although I had already eaten, I ate again. I had more caribou soup, I had fish, wild berries, Eskimo donuts; I made certain to get some of the bowhead maktak that had been boiled into uunaalik, seen here just to the right of the spaghetti.

The spaghetti, by the way, is caribou spaghetti. It was superb.

Rachel Riley asked me how my shoulder was healing up. Rachel was in the Barrow High cafeteria on June 12, 2008, when I took my fall, shattered my shoulder, got loaded into a Lear Jet ambulance and was flown on a $37,000 + ambulance ride to Providence Hospital in Anchorage, where I went through two surgeries and had my natural bone replaced by an artificial, titantium, shoulder.

I told her that it had healed well and I was doing good, but that it would never be what it was before. For all it's technical medical wonder, this titanium just cannot match my natural bone. Yet, I am greatly thankful to have it.

Rachel then explained to Ada Lincoln exactly what she had saw that day when I fell off the rolling chair while taking a picture (and Rachel, by the way, is in the last frame that I shot just before the chair rolled out from under me).

A boy walks through the cemetery, looking at the graves of relatives and friends.

Raymond Paneak took me to the grave of his brother, George, who died on September 19, 2009, at the age of 60. George had been Mayor of the village and was an active leader in the Healthy Communities movement, a grass-roots effort to stem the harm and damage that the abuse of alcohol and drugs has caused in the Far North.

Freida Rulland, left, showed me the grave of her father and my friend, Paul Hugo. A good twenty-years ago plus, Paul took me to many places in these mountains, by snowmachine, eight-wheeled Argo, depending on the season, and on foot in search of caribou. 

We found a few, too.

He had also kept me as a house-guest in his home. We had eaten pancakes in the morning, caribou in the evening.

Although I of course knew that he had died, it none-the-less shocked me to see his name stenciled into the cross that marks his grave.

He passed away on October 9, 2009, at the age of 49.

I told Frieda and her sister that I would stop by and say "hi" to their mother, but my trip was short and I was busy every waking minute of it and I never got a chance.

I expect to be back in Anaktuvuk before too long, though, and I will then.

Freida's sister, Amanilla Hugo, stands to the far right.

Two little ones, growing up in Anaktuvuk Pass.

On Easter Sunday morning, thousands of miles from home, I find a blue egg and a little girl with a basket

I made a bad mistake when I booked my ticket to come on this trip - I chose this day, Sunday, April 4, to fly back to Alaska from New York City. I did not realize that it was Easter Sunday. My plane will not arrive into Anchorage until just after midnight, which means that I miss this special day with my family. I will not join in the feast, I will not photograph Kalib as he happily scurries about the snow in our back yard, searching for Easter eggs.

I will not photograph Margie loving little Jobe, nor will I be able to pick him up and let him burp upon my shoulder. I will share no hugs with my sons and daughters.

I did not realize this mistake until I was on the East Coast. I wanted to change the return date, of course, but I booked the ticket through Orbitz and it is a terribly expensive proposition to change an Orbitz ticket and I am broke.

There is simply no way around it, I am flat-out broke. My travels here and all my expenses have been covered by those who brought me out, but this change would have come out of my pocket and I simply don't have it.

On the good side, this allowed me to spend a very good afternoon yesterday with Chie, who showed me parts of New York that I would never have seen otherwise. I will yet share this with you, as I will my search for a New York pretzel, my stroll through Central Park, visit to the sacred place where so many died on 9/11 and my other wanderings about New York the past two days.

Still, this morning, I got up feeling kind of bad that it is Easter and I am separated from my family.

I have a breakfast appointment with Aaron Fox, but decided to take a short walk beforehand. I walked down to the Hudson, and then on my way back spotted an Easter egg under a chain-link fence with more eggs lying beyond it.

No children were present, but I knew they soon would be. Soon, a little hand would pluck this egg from it's not-so-hidden hiding spot and happily plop it into a basket.

I walked just a short distance further and then came upon Avanna Angelina, walking with her grandfather. They were in a hurry to get to whatever celebration they were going to and could only afford to give me about about ten seconds.

That was just enough to document Avanna with her grandfather on the Easter Sunday during which Kalib will hunt his eggs without me.

Our Thanksgiving Day, 2009

Not long after Lisa arrived for Thanksgiving, Jacob began to treat her just like he did when she was a little girl and he was a big boy.

Lisa's boyfriend Bryce, who is deeply allergic to cats and dogs, came too, of course.

Lisa and Bryce.

Needless to say, the other boyfriend, Melanie's, Charlie, showed up as well. Soon, he engaged Kalib in a game of "Peek-a-Roo." Here, he sings out, "peek-a..."

"...Roo!" That's because we sometimes call Royce, "Royce-a-Roo." Naturally, that sometimes gets shortened to just "Roo." Hence, the game of "Peek-a-Roo." 

Kalib was greatly pleased with the game.

When I get time, or just take time, I will let Grahamn Kracker post more of this game - and other cat activities from the day - on his No Cats Allowed blog.

Lavina and her feet.

Lisa and Bryce pour the punch.

Kalib comes to the table.

Setting the table. Traditionally, I am the one who cooks the turkey, but, somehow, Margie cooked two of them today. I still cut it up. See that pumpkin chiffon pie? Melanie made that from a recipe that originated with my late mother. It is the best pumpkin pie in the world.

Melanie also made some cranberry sauce out of cranberries she picked herself.

Sooooo goood!

And she made a walnut pie. Margie tells me it is excellent, but so far I have found no room for it in my tummy.

I will try it tomorrow.

As baby Kalib peeks down from a picture on the cabinet door, the feasting begins. I have no more pictures of it, because I was too busy feasting. Please note the state of Caleb's facial hair. 

Readers who have been with this blog - and especially those who visited after the excellent feast that we had last year in Anchorage at Rex and Stephanie's house - cannot help but notice that two members of the family are absent: Rex and Stephanie.

Again, I just want to give them space and not say too much, but Rex went to Homer to spend the weekend alone in a cabin contemplating life. Stephanie - well, we don't know. She no longer shares her life with us.

It is a painful and puzzling thing.

Charlie brought his guitar and gave Kalib his first-ever live concert.

Soon, under the watchful eye of Royce-a-Roo, Kalib was dancing to a tune about little fishes - a song composed just for him.

Lisa and Bryce left a bit early to go back to Anchorage to share a second Thanksgiving with Bryce's parents. A bit after that, a bunch of the rest of us crowded into the Escape and headed to Metro Cafe for a coffee break.

When we got there, Carmen told us that Lisa and Bryce had stopped on their way to town. All week long, Carmen had been telling me that the drive-through would be open from 10-7 on Thanksgiving Day, while her family would gather from all over to have dinner inside. Every day, she reminded me, and urged me to come by.

Naturally, with our bellies stuffed and us growing sleepy, such a break was essential, so we did stop by.

She prepared hot drinks for everybody, engaging us in conversation through it all. Before I could pay her, she closed the window. I thought she had forgotten, so I waved the 20 that Melanie had insisted on contributing in front of her.

Carmen opened the window just a crack, to tell us this one was on the house.

"You're a real good customer," she said.

And it was good coffee, too. It always is.

Back home, we ate the pie. Then Kalib came with the paper, looking at the Christmas ads.

So this is how it will be for the next month.

This year, I want to see if I can experience some Christmas spirit.

It was easy when I was young. Now it is hard. Despite all the promotions, Christmas tends to sneak up on me suddenly and then it is gone and I wonder if it ever happened at all.

Well, we will see.

Melanie and Charlie.

It is time for them to go, because they need to spend some Thanksgiving time with Charlie's parents. Kalib comes running to say goodbye.

Out the door they go and then they are gone. It always comes to this. Always.

I walk from the front door into the kitchen, where I find Kalib eating butter straight off the butter plate.

Kalib goes to work at 10:00 PM, beardless, but with a mustache. None of us have seen him like this before. Four of his coworkers are doing the same thing.

Maybe it is a contest, I don't know. He just needs a cowboy hat, a good pair of boots, spurs, a six-shooter and a horse. Can you imagine how sharp he would look, sitting on that horse, dressed like that, with this mustache?

Rebecca Brower - winner of Barrow's baby contest!

Here she is - the winner, Rebecca Brower. Beautiful, beautiful, gorgeous baby! Magnificent parka!

Ladies and gentlemen: Rebecca Brower!

But she hasn't won yet. She is waiting her turn to go before the crowd.

And here she is, Rebecca Brower, in the arms of her Aaka, Rebecca Brower, showing her stuff.

As pageant winners so often do, Rebecca cries with joy upon learning that she has won.

Her first place award is handed to her. She reaches for it.

And she has it - First place winner of Barrow's baby contest.

The eight babies who won but who did not take first

This is a fact: if you are going to have a contest for which there is only one first prize, but nine babies enter, then eight of those babies are not going to take first. But look at this baby: she is Christetata Brower and she is a winner - absolutely! She is nothing less than a winner!

And what a beautiful parka she wears!

So this post is dedicated to the eight winner babies who did not take fist.

Shortly after I put it up, I will make a separate post for the First Place winner baby.

Let me say right now that I am proud to have met all these babies. Very proud. One could hardly have a greater honor in this life then to meet such babies.

Elijah Kagak.

Herman Solomon, Jr.

Kyle Nelson - already facing the paparazzi (that would not include me - I am not a paparazzi - I am a very serious photographer. But obviously, this other person is a paparazzi, one who usually shoots celebrities like Britney Spears, Mojo Harris and Weaver MacDonald).

Mildred Spear.

Wayne Toovak.

Jeremiah Benson.

Pearl Faith Gordon.

I know. There is more information that you would like to know, like who sewed each parka, and who is the mother and father of each baby?

In some cases, I know the answers to these questions and in others I don't and it is nearing midnight and I am afraid to go knocking on people's doors seeking answers.

So I give the full credit to the babies.