On the day that exhaustion finally overwhelms me, I take Jobe to breakfast, see Lynxton with his eyes open and take a publicity photo for National Book of the Year finalist Debby Edwardson

I am not quite certain how I managed to get out of bed today, but I did. Then, the only thing that I wanted to do was to go right back to bed, but I decided to try to stay up and make some kind of day of it. So I took Jobe to breakfast at Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant - just the two of us.

Margie stayed home to have some peace and quiet.

Breakfast was pretty interesting. The table got completely rearranged. Sugar, Splenda and jam packets wound up spread across the table, on the seats and on the floor beneath the table. A packet of half-and-half milk and cream got splattered across the seats, the table, the wall, and the window.

Jobe was content and happy threw-out. He loves to be with his grandpa. His grandpa loves to be with him.

This poor young reflected lady was among those who had to clean up after Jobe. She said she didn't mind. She said this was a kid-friendly place. Lots of mothers work here. I left a big tip... about 45 percent.

On Friday, I mentioned that I had not seen Lynxton with this eyes open since the day he was born, now three-and-a-half weeks ago. I said that I might see him Saturday and maybe his eyes would be open then. That was because I thought that after the Barrow Whalers championship game in Chugiak, I would go ahead and drive the extra 15 miles or so into Anchorage, where I could see him.

But when that game ended, I felt so tired and weary that I could do only one thing - get in the car and drive home. It was not the game that wore me out. It was the way I have been living for how long now? One push on top of another, sleep-shorted night upon sleep shorted night... Once I reached home, I got a blanket, lay down on the couch, three cats came to join me and I fell into a strange sleep, one where I am vaguely conscious of the world about me even as I dance in and out of dreams, for two hours. 

Afterward, I did not want to get up off that couch at all. I just wanted to stay there, staying in that strange and pleasant sleep for the remainder the day, through the night, all the next day, the following week and the month afterward.

But I had things to do so I got up.

This afternoon, Lynxton came to the house.

He was here for several hours, during which his eyes were open for maybe three minutes.

Here they are, open.

The rest of the time, he was sleeping.

Just like I wanted to be.

My schedule and the way that I have been living has finally caught up to me.

Lynxton's beautiful mother, Lavina.

I will tell you how tired I am. When I first tried to name the picture of Jobe and me that appears at the top of this post, I could not remember how to spell his name. Joby? Jobie?

I couldn't remember!

Finally, it came to me, slowly out of the haze that my brain now dwells in.

J-o-b-e.

Jobe.

Jobe!

This is not Jobe - this is Charlie and Jim and they are working for me.

This afternoon, I received an email from Book of the Year finalist Debby Edwardson. She wondered if I was going to go into Anchorage for her booksigning at the museum. She needed a publicity photo of herself to send to New York no later than early in the morning, East Coast time.

She said if I was not going to come in, she could drive out with George and I could shoot one here.

At first I thought, well, maybe I will go in. It will be fun.

But I couldn't. I was just too exhausted. This would be the first full day that I stayed home in how long? Long time. I could not go. I feared I might drive right off the road.

I thought maybe I could pose her by the front window, where I could get a nice, soft, shape-defining light, but then it became clear that she would not be able to get here until that light had dwindled beyond usefulness.

Regular readers know that I am an available light man. I rarely ever pick up a flash or any other kind of light. I will use whatever light is there and make it work. I did this even before digital and its high ISO's. Even on film, I shot pictures in light so low that many of my fellow photographers said it could not be worked with, but I worked with it.

If I were to shoot Debby's photo this way, it would mean lamps and such, and ISO's at 6400 or 3200 maybe.

I could get a good photo this way, yet, I knew that her publicity people would not want that kind of photo.

So I dug up a strobe light that I had not used in years. I felt very uncomfortable with it. I needed to do some test work - bounce it off this and that, at that angle and this, until I got it to shape the light the way I wanted.

Charlie and Melanie appeared at the door. So I set Charlie down with Jim, gave Melanie a large, white, flat, paper box to bounce the already bounced light off as fill and then shot a few test shots.

None of them worked. I did not get the light I wanted - but I did get this image of Jim and Charlie.

Then Debby arrived, with husband George and granddaughter Josie. In addition to being descended from a long line of Inupiat whalers, George told me that Josie is also descended from a genuine Norwegian king.

"She is a real princess," he said.

As I had not yet got my light, I conducted a couple of experimental lighting shots on George and Josie while Debby combed her hair.

I didn't quite have the light I wanted yet, but I was getting there. It would be a tight head and shoulders shot, so all that distracting stuff in the background would not be a problem.

Then I did a couple of light experiments on Debby herself, with Josie peering over her shoulder.

I still did not quite have it, but we talked Josie out of the frame and I shot it anyway - and somehow, it worked out just right.

I am not going to post the picture here, but will leave it to the publicists to do with it as they will.

Debby's book, My Name is Not Easy, a finalist for the Young People's Literature Book of the Year Award, was released October 1. As of this afternoon, that first printing of 5000 is completely sold out. Book stores across the country are asking for more.

The second printing is coming soon - I don't know how large it will be, but much more than 5,000, I'm sure.

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Those with whom I did not crash; I glimpse Lynx asleep; sharing breakfast apart

I am not a person who fears flying at all. Whenever I board a plane, I am solidly confident it will carry me to my destination safely. When we are in the air and suddenly find ourselves getting smacked around by turbulence that gives some passengers a big scare, to me it is just like being on a bumpy road - a bit uncomfortable but no big deal.

Yet, after I boarded the completely full Alaska Airlines flight that would carry me from Barrow to Anchorage and the jet took off, I suddenly found myself thinking that if by chance this proved to be one of those extremely rare flights that didn't make it and it crashed with 100 percent fatalities, all the people riding in this plane and I would die together.

It struck that we would then all share a very intimate experience. What would it be like? Would we be aware of it? Do we have spirits that would float about the site for awhile, those of us who are strangers to each other introducing ourselves for the first time, those of us who already know each other visiting and musing about what just happened? Would we be in mourning for those living that we had left behind? Rejoicing to meet those dead who had left us before?

I don't know. But it was kind of fun to think about, so I raised my camera over my head, pointed it behind me in such a way that I knew it would catch me too and took this picture of myself with my fellow passengers, so that, if we all died together, this moment could be remembered.

But we didn't die. We landed safely. Margie picked me up at the airport and then drove us to Jacob and Lavina's. Lynxton was now just over three weeks old and this was only the third day that I had seen him. Just like when I returned from New York, he was asleep.

The day of his birth is the only day that I have so far seen him awake.

I expect to see him Saturday.

Maybe he will be awake then.

Margie had been staying with Jacob and Lavina to help out, but now she came home with me and we brought Jobe with us. As usual, on my first morning home, we went out to breakfast, at Abby's Home Cooking.

Abby had the radio on, tuned to a local country station. She had the volume turned very low, so that one barely noticed the music as it played in the background. Basically, one song blended into the next, each almost indistinguishable from the other.

Then, I heard the opening notes to a familiar guitar riff - it was Johnny Cash, going into "I walk the Line." The volume remained low, but suddenly the song filled the restaurant. It grabbed me and held me. I was locked into every note, every word.

When Johnny, who I once spent an afternoon with, quit singing, the music once again fell into the background, hardly noticeable, one song indistinguishable from the next.

That's because Johnny Cash was genius - great - the other performers merely good.

When Margie and I have any of the boys with us, we iPhone pictures back and forth with Lavina and Jake, so they will know how whatever child is staying with us is doing at that moment.

So I took this iPhone pic of Jobe to send to them. 

"Cuteness!" Lavina texted back. Then she followed with a text informing me that Kalib was missing his grandma and wanted to see her.

So I had her wave at him and then sent this picture.

"He smiled," Lavina texted back.

Then she took a picture of baby Lynx with her own phone and texted it to us.

We looked at it.

We smiled.

We then finished eating breakfast, 50 miles apart together.

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A little boy watches a mouse; a little girl and a not-quite old homesteader; another licks the frosting

Last night, I was overwhelmed by sleepiness very early and so went to bed about 10:00 PM. In time, I fell asleep, sound asleep, it seemed. I woke up, thinking that hours had passed and that I had finally gotten a good rest.

But no. It was only 11:15 PM. Throughout the rest of the night, I mostly tossed and turned, forced sleeping cats to move from one spot to another and then back again. I slept very little.

Margie was sleeping in the guest room with Jobe, so that he would not fall out of bed.

Once Jobe got up, he sat down to watch Mickey Mouse.

He loves Mickey Mouse.

When I came home, Margie and I brought him home with us to ease the burden on his mother, now that she has three little ones, including two-week old Lynxton, to care for.

Margie had been staying there to help out, but I wanted her to come home with me and so we brought Jobe, too.

Friday, I leave on the 6:05 AM flight to Barrow. That means no good sleep tonight, either.

I stopped at Abby's on my morning walk - not for another breakfast but just for a shot of coffee. That's two-year old Danielle in her arms and 62-year old Harold Olsen chatting with them.

"How long have you lived here?" Harold asked me.

"Thirty-years," I answered.

"Newcomer," he said.

Harold's family homesteaded some property in 1953 right near where Abby would later grow up on the Mahoney Homestead.

Of course, to the Tanaina, even the homesteaders are newcomers.

This is Danielle's five-year sister, Audrianna, sampling the frosting.

Now... I am faced with a couple of intense tasks that I need to do over the next two to three weeks and I don't really have time to blog at all. Plus, somewhere, somehow, sometime, I really need to get some serious sleep. Maybe Saturday night and Sunday morning at Roy Ahmaogak's house in Barrow.

I had thought about putting this blog on hiatus again until I accomplish what needs to be accomplished, but decided against it.

I will attempt to post throughout the next two weeks or so, but don't expect much in these posts. Maybe one picture, sometimes, and one sentence.

I might miss a few posts altogether.

When the tasks are done and I get a decent sleep, I will finally blog my New York City David Alan Harvey Loft Workshop experience.

I am not going to let that one go untold.

Jobe's final moments as the "baby of the family"; a lynx gives a most significant gift to my new grandson

Here he is, Jobe, in his final day as the baby of the family. For one-and-a-half years he has occupied this spot. Throughout this time, he has known nothing but total adoration from virtually every adult that he has ever met. At home and elsewhere, as the cutest and youngest person in the group, he has been the center of attention and that attention has all been good attention.

Jobe thinks that is just how life is - something that takes at the center of affection, attention and adoration.

While I am confident that much affection, attention and adoration will continue to come his way, an event is about to take place that will soon remove him as the central focus point of adoration, affection and attention. Another cute person will soon occupy that cherished but briefly held spot.

At the very moment this picture was taken, his mother was in the hospital in labor and had been for over seven hours. I had gone into town to help Margie take care of Jobe and his brother until his new sibling could be born. Margie and I have just picked the two of them up from daycare. We will walk home with them, as only a few hundred yards separate their daycare center from their house.

Before we reach the house, we stop at the park, where Kalib and his grandma played on the teeter totter. Very recently, Kalib and his mother were walking down the path in the space between the first picture and this one, when Kalib stopped to point out that he had just spotted what he called a "kitty." 

He wanted to pet the kitty.

Lavina looked and was shocked to see a lynx standing about 20 feet away. The lynx hissed at them and then dashed into the trees.

Anchorage is our big city. This is the kind of city Anchorage is.

Melanie had joined us. She watched as Kalib climbed a rope ladder.

Jobe slid down the slide.

At the house, Rex and Kalib played with toy trains as we all waited for the call that would tell us it was time to head to the hospital.

Eventually, my effervescent, ever pleasant, good-natured little grandson grew tired and irritable. It was time for bed. Margie gave him a bath and, with help from Lisa, I trundled him into his jammies. He resisted all the way.

Margie took him into the bed where he usually sleeps with his parents. She would spend the night with him there, beneath the photo of one of his parents' wedding kisses.

Rex left with his girlfriend Courtney and her mother Janet. I returned to the living room to wait for that call with Lisa, Melanie and Charlie. Martigny was there, too, coming toward me from Lisa, who adores all cats.

As we visited at the kitchen table, Melanie and Charlie pondered a grapefruit. We all hoped for a girl. In theory, if this baby were not a girl, then this would end our chance at getting a granddaughter and a niece from Lavina and Jacob as they plan to stop at three.

After a few hours, it began to appear that the big event would not happen for awhile.

Everybody went home, leaving Margie and me alone with Kalib and Jobe.

I slept on the couch, but I didn't sleep good. I was still awake at 1:30. After I finally fell asleep, I woke often, with strange dreams and visions playing in my head. The details have gone soft, but the feelings remain.

I was a bit worried. Lavina had gone into the hospital at about 10:00 AM, after her water broke. At about 10:00 PM, her contractions had suddenly stopped. A womb without water is a womb that cannot long be lived in. This baby needed to get born.

At 5:30, I awoke for what I knew was for good.

I went into the master bedroom and laid down on the bed with the sleeping Margie and the sleeping Jobe. Soon, I got a text from Lavina. We then spent some time texting back and forth. As she always is, she was being brave and tough and pleasant, but she did confide that she did not know why it was happening this way, and said she was almost at a breaking point.

If the baby did not get out of the womb within 24 hours of the water break, then she would likely be facing a C-section.

Still, she inquired with concern about Margie, who had spent a couple of days not feeling well, and she gave me instructions on getting the boys to daycare in time for breakfast once they awoke. After we had accomplished that, she wanted us to come and visit.

After we dropped the boys off, Margie and I headed over. The delivery room had been darkened. Quiet - except for the sound of the baby's heartbeat, broadcast and amplified through the monitor, mixed with the sounds of pain and hard breathing that Lavina would make every time a contraction would hit - yes, she was having contractions again - about two minutes apart.

The doctor moved the C-section time from 10:00 AM to 12:00 noon - but if that baby was not out or coming out at noon, then it would be a C-section delivery. Despite the contractions, Lavina did not feel that vital urge to push.

The day before, I had dropped my Canon 5D Mark II off at the repair shop to get the sensor cleaned before I left for New York. I had only my Canon 1Ds MIII with only one lens, a wide angle. It is the most expensive camera that I ever bought but it is also a big, bulky tank-like thing and it clicks loudly.

It does not do nearly as well in low light as the 5D. I decided not to worry about pictures until the baby was born, because I did not want to disrupt the room with loud, clicking, shutter noises. So I sat down and made myself quiet, but I did take this frame. This is Lavina's good friend Natalie, Maid of Honor at her wedding. Nat has assited Lavina with the births of all her baby's.

Nat knows how to massage her aches and pains, how to help keep her spirits up. She is quiet and unobtrusive almost to the point of invisibility, but she is there and Lavina knows it.

Jacob, too. He is there. Lavina knows it.

Soon, the clock passed 11:30. No baby. Still no urge to push. The C-section began to appear inevitable.

I believe it was already a few minutes past 11:40 when Lavina got a sudden and painful urge to push - and she let us know it. The attendant nurse had stepped out for a minute. Lavina's doctor was on another floor. The nurse was summoned., appeared almost instantly, then summoned other nurses and the doctor. In just a moment, the other nurses had joined her. The doctor headed for the elevator, but something apparently happened with that elevator that slowed her descent.

The nurses moved with amazing rapidity and intensity, moving apparatus here, there, adjusting the birth light. They knew this baby was coming - fast. They could not wait for the elevator to bring the doctor. They had to act - now.

I kept my vision discretely turned away from the spot of birth. Suddenly, I heard a tiny but wonderfully strong voice cry out in pain and shock.

Then I was crying; suddenly, I was laughing; laughing and crying. Suddenly, there was a baby in front of me; crying out loud, the blood of new life upon it. My tears blurred my vision, my laughter unsteadied my hand; I took the picture, anyway.

Who is this nurse that delivered my third grandson into this world, as his doctor was trapped elsewhere by an elevator?

I don't recall seeing her before this event happened, nor do I recall seeing her after my new grandson was safely delivered and cleaned up.

Whoever you are, nurse, I thank you. With all my heart and soul, I thank you.

You have my eternal gratitude - and the gratitude of everyone in this family.

Grandson # 3 was born at 11:47 AM - after his mom had been in labor for approximately 26 hours.

And here I am, still complaining about how exhausted I am.

He was a couple of weeks early and weighed five pounds, 13 ounces and was 18.5 inches long.

Although we did not know, we had all been hoping for a girl. Jacob and Lavina had a number of girl's names lined up, but were short on boy's names.

It would be awhile before grandson #3 would get his name.

Mother, father and baby.

Soon, Rex, who had been working on the construction of another part of Providence Hospital, joined us.

Everyone, including me, took turns holding our new grandson. Here he is, with his grandma. She just met him, yet, already, she loves him as dearly as she loves anyone who ever lived.

He has a name now:

Lynxton Dischinn'd Hess.

Lynxton - in honor of the lynx who surprised his mother shortly before he was born.

Dischinn'd - the name of the White Mountain Apache clan that his grandmother, father and all his aunts and uncles belong too.

It is the way of both the Apache and Navajo to go with their mom's clan and tribe, so Lynxton will be of the Lo'kah, and will be enrolled in the great Navajo Nation - home of a major branch of the Dene, whose numbers reach into northern Canada and Interior Alaska.

Apaches are also of the larger Dene, but they call themselves, "N'dee."

Navajo, Apache, Athabascan - these are all names placed upon them by other people; just as "Eskimo" was placed upon the Iñupiat and their other Inuit relatives.

Soon, a medical technician came in to do a blood draw. Lavina could not bear to see the flesh of her son get poked, nor to hear the sound of him crying out in pain, so she plugged her ears, closed her eyes and pulled the sheet over her face.

Little Lynxton didn't cry much at all - a short little blast with the first poke, none that I remember with the subsequent pokes.

Jacob feels the tiny body of his new son...

...then checks out his tiny hand...

...and then his tiny feet.

Dad is pleased.

Margie and I then returned to Jacob and Lavina's house at somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00 PM, exhausted, ready to nap.

Margie lay down to sleep on the short arm of the "L" shaped couch. Above her hung a picture that I had taken of Kalib on the first day of his life, alongside the Apache cradleboard his Aunt LeeAnn had made for him. Lynxton will be carried in a Navajo cradleboard, made by his Aunt Cori.

You will see pictures of it in the future.

I lay down on the long arm, but, exhaused though I was, I could not go to sleep.

So I got up, went outside, sat in the car and listened to the radio - first, Terri Gross on Fresh Air, followed by All Things Considered.

I wish I could fall asleep and stay asleep the way Margie can. I think my life would be a lot easier then. I think I would accomplish more and do better work. I might even be able to exercise some business sense. Perhaps we would not be in the continual jam that we always are... if only I knew how to sleep.

To be quite honest with you, given this continual blur of exhaustion that I live in, I don't know how I accomplish anything at all.

At 4:20 PM, I headed toward the camera shop to pick up the 5D. On the way back, I stopped at daycare to get Kalib and Jobe.

I saw Jobe first, in the playground on the other side of the fence. He saw me and came running to the fence.

His life had just undergone a change of gigantic significance, but he had no idea of it.

Yet, when I look at this picture, I almost think that, somehow, even if he did not know, he had a sense of it.

He had been living with a pregnant mother for almost nine months. He probably picked up more than we might think.

Little people are smart.

Jobe is very smart.

I picked up Margie and the four of us went to the hospital, where Lavina had been moved from the delivery room on the first floor to a room on the fourth.

Jobe and Kalib got their first look at their new brother.

Lavina then handed the not-yet named Lynxton to his Aunt Melanie, and took both of her other babies into her arms.

Then each got some alone time with their mom.

Lisa was there, too.She had held him before we arrived, but I did not get to witness it.

After Lisa got up, Kalib came over. At first, he refused to look at or further acknowledge his new brother.

Then his dad coaxed him to come and give a touch. He seemed to like it.

Jobe, however, had taken a look and it seemed that was enough for him. He was brought over, but no one could convince him to look at or acknowledge his little brother.

When his dad brought his brother close, Jobe tried to push him away. I am not worried, though. It is hard to give up a position so sweet as baby of the family. Kalib did not want to yield that position to Jobe, but he did. And Kalib loves Jobe.

He does experience some natural sibling rivalry and jealousy, but nothing that strikes me as serious.

I am confident Jobe will love his younger brother.

Still, I do worry a bit about his position as the middle brother.

His Uncle Caleb was the middle brother in our family, between Jacob and Rex, and often found it a tough place to be.

Here he is, our third grandson, named for the lynx that suprised his mother: Lynxton Dischinn'd Hess.

I don't know what time I drove home. Seven PM? Approaching 8:00?

I was exhausted, wonderfully happy and yet painfully sad. Wonderfully happy for the obvious reason; painfully sad because I am headed to New York City tomorrow. I have been greatly looking forward to that trip and still am, but suddenly it has become the event that is going to prevent me from seeing my new grandson again until sometime in early October - and then only briefly because I must go north almost immediately afterward.

I do not know how long I will be gone then - perhaps a week, perhaps a month.

My little grandson will grow rapidly in my absence. He will change significantly - and I will miss it.

This knowledge left me feeling down - made me wonder if maybe it is time for me to forsake my wild, wandering, ways, settle down and devote myself to my grandchildren.

Many people my age have retired, many will retire within just a few years of the age I now am.

I ran into one of my retired friends at Walmart the other day. He had worked fulltime for what over the years has been my biggest client. He is three years older than me. He looked happy and fit, relaxed; he told me how great it was to be retired, how he could now afford to run his own bed and breakfast business and soon planned to start a furniture shop with his sons. He was really enjoying his grandchildren.

It didn't really matter if his businesses made money; he had enough to live on.

But I can't retire. For one, I have been a lousy businessman and have no means to retire. Furthermore, I have never wanted to reitre. I have too much work left to do.

Yet, a huge amount of that work could be done right here, at my house, in Wasilla, less than an hour's drive from my grandchildren.

But that ain't gonna to happen. I can't afford to stay home. And at my core, as placid as I may appear on the surface, I churn in perpetual restlessness and wanderlust.

One day, I will quit wandering. On that day, or perhaps the next, I hope someone pitches me into the creamatorium and then casts my ash to the wind.

But maybe I am wrong in this long-held notion.

I missed so much of my children's growing up. Maybe I should be there for my grandchildren.

Maybe... maybe... nah... can't happen... well, maybe... but if so, how?

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I leave for New York City early tomorrow (Friday) morning, so I will not post again prior to Saturday, possibly even later.

Pregnant spider walking; Lavina comes to pick up her babies as we wait for the new baby; Hannah Solomon, who lived for almost 103 years

On my morning walk, I came upon this pregnant spider -- VERY PREGNANT! I had the wrong lens to be photographing a spider, but, to quote once again from Donald Rumsfeld:

"As you know, you photograph a spider with the lens you have, not the lens you wish you had brought or might bring at a later time, when the spider is gone."

Lavina had planned to come out yesterday and then spend the night with us so that she could see her babies again, but she didn't. This was because she had been having contractions Friday - not true labor contractions, but getting ready for labor contractions. Then it intensified to the point where she told Jake that it was time for him to take her to the hospital.

So Jake got ready to go and then the pains went away.

Margie and I then made plans to drive the boys back home Saturday. Lavina called to cancel our plans. She and Jacob were going to come out and pick them up themselves.

The idea of her traveling an hour away from her hospital scared me a bit, but I guess she had been cooped up at home too long, and needed to get out.

In the meantime, Kalib took a nap.

Jobe and me on the back porch.

Kalib prunes some bushes as he waits for his mom to arrive.

She arrived in the early evening, with Jacob and Muzzy in tow. She saw Jobe first, so picked him up and just gazed at him. This bed-rest stuff has been pretty hard on Lavina, because she loves to be with her babies but over the past weeks we have had them here more than she and Jacob have had them there.

Kalib then wanted her attention and he got it.

Soon she had them both.

Soon, they were ready to go - and they were taking Margie with them, so she could help out. Margie is one hell of a grandma, I'll say that. Back when we young and making babies ourselves, I never thought of her as a grandma, but she is a grandma and quite an amazing one, I think.

Before they got into the car to drive away, Jacob and Lavina discovered they had to clean dog poop off their shoes.

I jokes! I jokes! I jokes!

They were just checking out the soles of their shoes.

I think their shoes were new, that's why.

They sure look new to me.

Sooner or later, though, they will step in dog poop.

It happens to us all. It happened to me just yesterday... in the marsh that has dried up and become a meadow.

Gross!

Then they were all in the car, ready to go.

And there they go, Jake and Margie waving at me. You can't see Margie's face because she has turned it to her grandchildren, telling them to wave goodbye to grandpa, but I couldn't see them, so I don't know if they waved or not.

Kalib probably did. I doubt that Jobe did.

He wouldn't have been being stuck up or ornery, he's just not quite into waving yet... but he's getting there.

As I left, I climbed onto my bike and pedalled off on short ride, about ten miles round trip. As I pedalled down Seldon, this airplane flew overhead.

You can hardly see the plane at this size. It would show up bigger in slide show view. A few seconds later, I took a shot that I like better, because I dropped the camera down just a bit and you can see headlights coming down the road with the plane above.

But the plane is too small in that frame to even bother posting here.

I mention this less for the readers' benefit than my own.

One day, I intend to include these words in the title of a book I have so far only dabbled at but hope to publish before I die:

I still look up

And I think the one with the car headlights in it might be good enough to include in that book.

So I write this to myself so that when I come back to this page and see this plane, I will know that there is another image that I must go take another look at.

Remembering: Hannah Solomon, 10/10/08 - 9/16/11

Hannah Solomon, Matriarch of the Gwich'in Nation, who passed away in Fairbanks late Friday afternoon - three weeks before her 103rd birthday. July, 2006.

Hannah Solomon dancing at her 100th birthday party.

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