On my way to see Larry Aiken's miracle smile, I saw many other things

 

I had thought that I might wait a day or two or three to go back to town and see Larry. His pre-surgery prognosis was that afterward he would be in ICU for two weeks, would not be able to talk and for most of that time would not even be able to recognize the people who came to see him.

Then, close to 5:00 PM when I was pedaling my bicycle from Metro Cafe, where I shot a nice little series of studies that I will share with you later, my cell rang. I stopped my bike, pulled out my iPhone and the saw the name "Larry Aiken" on the screen.

I knew it could not be Larry and that it was probably his cousin, Percy. Sure enough, it was.

I was kind of scared.

Then Percy told me the surgery had gone extremely well, better than anyone had even dared to anticipate. Instead of moving Larry into ICU, the doctors sent put him on the Fourth Floor. Not only was he conscious and aware of his surroundings, but he could talk. Percy put Larry on. 

I was surprised at how strong his voice sounded.

I told them I would come in, somewhere between 8:00 and 9:00. Percy said that would be good, that Larry would be pretty groggy but would know I was there.

So I finished a couple of small tasks, took a shower, ate dinner and hit the road about 7:30.

There were mountains in front of me, but I could go around them, easy enough.

I saw a lady who I do not think was very happy.

I saw soldiers, marching across an overpass. I wondered if any or all of them had been to Iraq or Afghanistan, or if not, might yet go.

The odds seemed pretty high. Fort Richardson has sent many soldiers into battle.

Just before I left home, Margie had the news on and I was a little startled to see coverage on a book signing that was at that moment taking place at the Anchorage Museum of History and Art. It was for the newly published Epicenter book, Eskimo Star - From the Tundra to Tinseltown: The Ray Mala Story, authored by Lael Morgan. 

Ray Mala was the first Native American international film star and first gained his fame in the film, Eskimo. Along with Igloo and Last of the Pagans, it is being featured in the Mala Film Festival at the Bear Tooth this evening.

When I entered the museum, I saw the star's son, Dr. Ted Mala, grandchildren Ted Jr. and Galena being photographed by Rob Stapleton. 

Dr. Mala practices both western and traditional Iñupiaq medicine and is director of the South Central Foundation, supplier of health care to Alaska Natives and American Indians in this part of Alaska.

Mala's wife, Emma, joined her family for a Rob Stapleton shot.

I took advantage of the situation and shot a family portrait myself.

Rob with Ted Jr. Rob is one of Alaska's more outstanding photographers and he is a friend. It would take a signficant amount of space for me to adequately relate all the ways he helped me and my family make it through our early struggling days in Alaska.

He is also a pilot and an aviation and ultralight aircraft enthusiast.

Lael Morgan signing copies of her book. Lael began her career as a journalist who came to Alaska by sailboat a few decades back and then roamed the entire state. She is the author of Art and Eskimo Power: - the life and Times of Howard Rock and Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush, about the prostitutes who took care of the lonely and desperate men who roamed the north at that time.

Along with Kent Sturgis, she founded Seattle based Epicenter Press and, beginning with the best-seller Two Old Women by Gwich'in author Velma Wallis, they have had several good success stories.

I believe Epicenter was the first of the two dozen or so publishing houses that I tried to interest in the work that became my book, Gift of the Whale: the Iñupiat Bowhead Hunt, A Sacred Tradition. She took a good look at it, told me was very impressive but that if Epicenter published it, "we would be bombed by Greenpeace."

Still, it is not impossible that we could publish a book together in the future. I don't know what the odds of it happening are - ten percent, maybe?

I would have liked to have hung around and talked to Lael, Dr. Mala, Rob and others, but I was in hurry to get to ANMC and see Larry, so I headed for the door.

As I neared it, I came upon Vic Fischer, who was a State Senator when I first met him almost 30 years ago. Before that, he served in the Territorial Legislature and was a delegate to Alaska's constitutional convention. He has remained active in Alaska's political and cultural life and I am pleased to say that whenever I read an editorial that he has written, I tend to agree with him.

He has deflated some absurd nonsense and claptrap in this state, but the purveyors of it have gone on purveying nonsense and claptrap, anyway.

Just as I was about to go through the door and back to my car, I saw that Rob had just got done taking a picture of Elmer, the Yup'ik actor, Galena, and Ossie, Yup'ik musician, poet and actor. They looked altogether too beautiful for me to pass by without taking at least a snap myself, so I did.

Then I stepped through the door and saw a face I had not seen in at least ten years, maybe more: Tom Richards, Native journalist and activist who worked with Howard Rock at the Tundra Times before I showed up.

Can you feel the Alaska history that I passed by in just a few minutes time? One day, my friends, one day... I will figure out how to make this blog and my as yet-to-be created online magazine work and then the stories that I will track down...

I will never get them all. There are too many, and all the authors and photographers and bloggers and facebookers and whoever that are working in Alaska combined to tell stories of this place can never tell them all.

But I will tell a few of them.

A very few. But even that will be something.

Remember... Larry was expected to in ICU, suffering, so heavily sedated that he would not even recognize me if he saw me at all.

This is how I found him - smiling big, and talking in the strongest, deepest, voice that I have heard come out of him for a long time. The terrible pains that have kept him awake at night had eased off.

What happened was a miracle, he told me. And this why he believes that miracle happened: his physican, a woman from Phoenix whose name he could not recall but I will add in later, was not only skilled, but before she operated on him, she prayed, and asked for help. In Barrow, about 20 members of Barrow's Volunteer Search Rescue got together before his surgery, prayed, and sang, "Amazing Grace."

The night before, right after I left, a man came and prayed for him and when he raised his hand Larry says he felt a strong power. There were all the people who had sung for him the night before - and so many who had prayed.

Larry invited me to take this picture so that he could express his thanks to all those who have prayed for him and helped him in anyway. You are too numerous to name, but you know who you are.

Larry said many visitors had already come by. While I was there, he was visited by Harry Ahngasuk and his wife, Sarah Neakok-Ahngasuk of Barrow. That's his cousin, Percy, on the right. Percy has been with him the whole time.

For me, these past several months have been rough - very rough.

But when I visited Larry last night, I just felt joy. Pure joy. I felt so glad. So, very, very happy.

It was excellent to see his story take such a positive turn.

At about 10:30 PM, I left Larry and his guests, stopped to chat in the parking lot with a lady from Anaktuvuk Pass and then drove home. As I came down Lucille Street in Wasilla, I saw that the police K-9 unit was active. Someone was not having a very good time. I know nothing beyond that.

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On the night before his surgery, Larry Aiken joins in a singspiration at the Alaska Native hospital

As I write these words, my friend, Larry Aiken, Iñupiaq whaler and artist of Barrow, is undergoing a six to eight hour surgical procedure to remove a radiation and chemo-killed cancer tumor that extends from his throat through his esophagus into his stomach. The surgery is extremely complex and a specialist has come up from Phoenix, Arizona, to assist.

Last night, I drove into town to visit Larry and when I went in to see him, I left my camera in my car, thinking that we would just have a quiet visit, I would wish him my best, we might share a prayer and then I would go home and leave him to the surgeons.

Indeed, that is just how the first hour of our visit went. For the past couple of weeks, since the second scheduled surgery had to be postponed due to a throat infection, Larry has been staying at the Quyana House, which is attached to the Alaska Native Medical Center hospital. 

It is a short walk down the hall from there to the reception area and foyer of the hospital, where music was being performed. So we walked down to the foyer, to see who we might see and listen to all who would sing and perform. Paul Wilson, a well-known Iñupiaq gospel singer originally from Kotzebue but now living in Anchorage, was leading the singing.

Among the other singers was Ada Lynn Negovanna, originally of Wainwright, and her 15 year-old son, Tagalak Negovanna. So I went back to the car and retrieved my camera.

That's Paul in the background with the guitar, Ada to the left of Larry, Sarah, also of Barrow to his right and Tagalak sitting at the right.

As Paul sings and another patient or guest at the hospital raises his arms to feel the spirit, Larry explains his tumor and the surgery that he faces to Ada and Sarah.

After his surgery, Larry is expected to remain in intensive care for about two weeks. He will have a feeding tube down his throat and will not be able to speak. For most of that time, he told me, he will not be able to recognize any who might come to see him, due to the effects of the medications he must take to get through this.

Ada joins in the singing.

Tagalak, Larry, Ada and Sarah. Many songs were sung, such as Arigaa, Tell Me Why You Love, Jesus, How Great Thou Art and several others.

The spirit and feelings were strong in this room.

In the singing, one feels both joy and pain.

As all humans must, all present have known the horrific pain of deep loss, but in getting together to sing in this place where so many come both to heal and to die, they share it - among themselves, and with any stranger who might happen to wonder into the room.

And in the sharing, and reaching out to faith and belief in beyond, there is comfort to be found.

Along with Sarah, Larry lifts his right hand to feel the spirit.

As anyone would, he has felt a great deal of fear as this day has approached. He has gone many nights with little or no sleep.

"I am ready for my surgery now," he says, when the song ends.

On her Facebook page, Ada has posted a video of her and Paul singing.

Larry then returns to Quyana house, where another visitor, Leo Kaleak, who has hunted with Larry in the crew of George Adams, comes to visit him, and to share whaling stories.

Up in Barrow, the whalers are getting ready. They are cutting trail through ice that this year is very rough, with pressure ridges that I am told reach as high as 60 feet. The other night, Larry's captain called him to seek a little advice on stocking and organizing the camp.

The CD's that Larry holds were made by Ada and Tagalak. I have one of them, too. Later, I will see if I can add a song or two from that CD to this post. This is something that I have not yet done, but, hopefully, it will be easy to do.*

*Okay - I downloaded the CD into iTunes, but have so far been unable to find a way to upload a tune to here.

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Some good news! Larry goes home to Barrow, I get a free cup, Raven sits upon a pole; driver of the ric

There has been much sadness in this blog lately and I believe that sadness is going to linger for some time, but I have some happy news to report today. Larry Aiken has gone home to Barrow. His radiation and chemo therapy was painful beyond anything he would have believed, but did succeed and killed his tumor.

So, the day after I took this picture, Larry got to board an airplane and head home for Barrow. There, he will spend about one month learning how to eat again and to regain his strength and weight. Then he will come back to Anchorage for major surgery to remove the killed tumor.

His fight is not over, but he has completed a huge part of it. "I am absolutely going to beat it," he told me.

He gives a great deal of credit to his sister, Ruth Aiken, who called him everyday from Barrow to say, "Larry, don't you dare give up on me."

Earlier on the day of this photo, Larry received a certificate of graduation from the radiation therapy staff that gave him his treatment. 

The certificate declared that:

"Mr. Larry Aiken has completed the prescribed course of radiation therapy with the highest degree of courage, determination and good nature. We appreciate the confidence placed in us and the opportunity to serve you."

I pulled up to the window of Metro Cafe where Shoshauna informed me that, once again, an anonymous benefactor had bought me coffee and a cinnamon roll.

Thank you, Anonymous.

After I drove away from Metro, sipping and chewing, I came upon this scene on Shrock Road. If you look closely, you can see a whale in that cloud.

And here is a raven, sitting on a pole in downtown Wasilla. That raven does not care who the mayor is or ever was. That raven knows Wasilla like no mayor ever will.

That raven is very intelligent.

Moon over Pioneer Peak.

And this one from India:

This is the man who was driving the auto rickshaw at the time I took the picture that appeared in yesterday's post about the cold, empty, streets of Bangalore.

He was driving the rick when I took this picture, too.

He tried to charge us more than he should have, but Sandy would not let him get away with it.

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Zero degree baby; Kalib and his spatula, part 2; Larry Aiken paints a dream of belugas; a walk through the valley of the shadow

As I walked yesterday in the zero degree* cold, I happened upon a one-year old baby, who had also gone out for a walk - only she had traveled by stroller, not foot.

This is she - baby Lily. Her mother, Christie, told me that she and baby Lily go out regularly, whatever the weather, and baby Lily enjoys it all. It does not distress her to be out in the cold - unless a fierce wind is blowing and strikes her right in the face. Her mother protects her, so that she does not feel that wind for more than seconds.

Sometimes, they walk for hours, Mom says. Baby Lily loves it.

How pleasing to know that this is a little girl being brought up not to fear the elements, not to shrink away and retreat only to the comfort of the indoors but to get out and enjoy.

Baby Lily may be well on her way to be coming a true Alaska girl.

As usual, at 4:00 PM I headed to Metro Cafe to get my coffee. After Shoshauna prepared it for me, I did not go home or take my usual drive, but continued on, with Anchorage as my destination. My friend, Larry Aiken, had experienced a couple of very hard days in his cancer treatment and I knew it was time to visit him again.

When I reached the Junction of the Parks and Palmer-Wasilla Highways, I was pleased to be stopped by a red light, so that I could pause, compose, and shoot.

As I crossed the Hay Flats, I heard a text message come in on my phone. I pulled off the highway at the next exit - the Native Village of Eklutna - to read it. It was from Lavina. She was out with Kalib and Jobe and they were going to pick up a pizza.

She invited me to stop by to have some.

Only Jacob was home when I arrived, but soon we heard Lavina, Kalib and Jobe pull into the driveway.

Remember how, at Thanksgiving, I told you that Kalib had become attached to a spatula, that he kept it with him almost at all times and that it had become his favorite toy?

He entered the living room carrying that spatula. Even as his mother removed his sweater, he kept hold of that spatula. 

When it was time to eat the pizzas, Kalib proved that the spatula was more than a toy to him, but a tool as well.

He wielded that tool well.

Jobe's not really into pizza yet, but he does love his dehydrated fruity yogurt treats - as do I. Knowing full well the danger, his dad handed me the bag so that I could feed him.

I gave him one. I would have given him more, but he ate too damn slow. What is one to do when he is holding the yogurt treats and the baby is eating too slow but to eat yogurt treats himself?

Then I went to see Larry and we had a good visit. It is one of those terrible ironies of life, but to kill cancer, one must undergo treatment that will make him very sick and so the past few days had been hard for Larry.

To help get him through, Larry has continued on his art work. He showed me this little beluga painting that is nearing completion. It is of the belugas as they appear under water. Larry has never been under the water with the belugas, but they came to him in a dream and showed him how they look under there.

So he is painting that dream.

Readers who were with me then will recall how shortly after Larry arrived in Anchorage to begin his treatment, he began a self-portrait of himself harpooning a bowhead whale. His whaling captain, George Adams, was right behind, ready to follow up with the shoulder gun. Last night, Larry told me the story of that whale.

He is not quite done with the self-portrait, yet, but as you can see, it is moving along. Once the portrait is done, I will take another photo and will pass on the story as Larry told it to me.

His art is his therapy.

He also finds therapy in the support, prayers and love of friends and family.

These are the things that get him through each day. 

And I found therapy in Larry's company - and in the hug that he gave me just before we parted company. There was fear in that hug, but hope and strength even more so.

Now I will take you back to India, for just a flash:

Regarding my ongoing process of grief for Soundarya - grief that seems not to ease but only to intensify - this is how I have decided to handle it in this blog. From now until however long it takes me to sort through, edit and create some sort of picture package from the images that I took of her, Anil and of India, I am going to keep that take at the forerfront of my Lightroom editor. I will work on it when I can.

Now and then, at times with more frequency than others, I will drop random pictures from India into this blog. Until I finish, these will not be pictures of Soundarya, but of other people and things in India, the place that made her.

When you see those pictures, even if I do not mention her name, you will be reminded of her, and you will know that I am thinking of her.

I start with this set of three only because they were the ones visible on the front page of my editor at the moment I decided to do this.

I took these during an interim moment. Sandy and Anil were off being newlyweds, Melanie and I had made a big trip with Vasanthi and Vijay and were about to take another with Vasanthi, Murthy and Buddy. In the meantime, Melanie and I took a walk from the Murthy home and soon got caught in a sudden downpour.

Some fruit vendors invited us to take shelter with them.

We did. The rain was furious, but brief.

When it ended, we said goodbye as best we could to these vendors, who spoke little English, and then moved on.

Very soon, we came across this young boy.

And then this one. I would have taken more pictures of people that we encountered after the rain, but after I shot this one, my Canon 5D Mark II, which I had protected from all but a few drops of rain, shut down on me and would not shoot again until I sent it into Canon for a $350 repair job.

As I do not like to carry it, I had almost left my Canon 1Ds Mark III at home, but at the last moment had decided to bring it. This proved to be a very good thing because otherwise, I would have been out of action from this moment forward.

Well... probably not... I would have acquired some kind of camera in India.

The Valley of the Shadow...

As readers know, despite my own, very intense, and at least from my mother very sincere, religious upbringing, despite the fact that I associate closely with many people of deep religious faith, I am not a person of faith myself. Yet, from the time I woke up this morning until right now, a certain scripture has kept repeating itself in my head.

It is a most important scripture to me personally and I also think the King James version of it to be among the most beautiful words ever put together in the English language.

It speaks of a valley, a valley that we all must walk through for each and every second that we live. At times, we are acutely aware that we walk in this valley, other times, our minds push all thoughts and fears of it to the side and we just laugh, enjoy, make merry and do what we feel like doing.

But sooner or later, that valley always manifests itself about us and makes certain we know we walk there.

Yet, somehow, this scripture makes that valley appear less frightening:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:

he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, for thou art with me;

thy rod and thy staff comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:

thou anointest my head with oil;

my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. 

These words come from the Judeo-Christian Bible, but I have felt the feeling behind them in the contexts of many different faiths - yes, even in the Mormon faith that I grew up with but can no longer be shackled by. I feel it in the churches whenever I gather with my Iñupiat and other Native friends and they sing so beautifully, with such strong heart and deep spirit.

I have felt it in a tipi, with a fire burning hot in the center, surrounded by drums and singing on the rim of the circle. I have felt it in a sweat lodge where spiritual beliefs that predate the United States but not the original people of this land have made themselves manifest.

And yes, I have felt it in a Hindu temple when a holy man has spoken words that I do not understand and has reached out and touched me on the forehead and left a red mark there - and among Muslims, who have invited me to come in off the Bangalore street and into their butcher shop, with carcasses suspended from the ceiling, there to share their coffee and spirit with me.

I have felt it among those sincere in many faiths when they have reached out with that faith to soothe and support others.

I do not necessarily feel it from those - again in any and all faiths - who would use their religion as a club to smash down and subdue others.

But among the sincere, hurt and caring, I have felt such comfort across the gamut. I gratefully accept all of their prayers and blessings.

*That's zero degrees F; - 18 C.

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Margie votes; new barista at Metro; my daughters and Charlie join me to visit Ethan Berkowitz, Diane Benson and Scott McAdams; Larry Aiken

Thank you, Margie, for voting. Our candidates lost, all the way across the ballot. But damn, they were the right candidates to vote for and you stood strong for them. It was a pleasure to go to the ballot box with you.

Let's do it again next time.

We cast our ballots during our afternoon coffee break - which, naturally, took us to Metro Cafe. Carmen has a new barista there, by the name of Elizabeth.

Don't worry - Shoshana is still there. Carmen told me that Shoshana had been working hard since very early in the morning, serving all the voters who swung by. Her shift had ended before we got there.

Congratulations on your new job, Elizabeth.

For some reason, you appear a little angelic in this image.

Diane Benson had called me earlier in the day to invite us to what we all hoped would be the Berkowitz/Benson gubernatorial victory party. So come evening, I headed over to the Snow Goose, where I thought she had said the party was going to be held.

At the goose, I found Joe Miller signs and supporters everywhere, but not a one for Berkowitz and Benson. It seemed very odd to me that both campaigns would be celebrating in the same building, but as long as I was there, I asked a Snow Goose employee if by chance the Berkowitz party was also there.

He did not even know who Ethan Berkowitz was.

"You might look upstairs," he said. "Maybe he's up there."

I left, then went outside, pulled out my iPhone and began to see if I could track down the real location.

Soon, I got a text from Lisa. She, Melanie and Charlie were at the Snow Goose, surrounded by Miller people. So I went back and we got together.

We decided to walk down to Snow City Cafe, and see if maybe the party was there.

So here we are at Snow City and, as you can see, it is bustling. There is a party going on. It looks like the kind of party a candidate for governor would throw.

But where is Diane? Where is Ethan?

Here's Diane's son, Latseen, inside Snow City, standing and talking to Tony Vita, Diane's special friend and the man who has in so many ways served as father to him.

"Standing..."

How good it is to see Latseen standing, looking strong and fit.

For those who do not know, Latseen lost both legs to an IED in Iraq.

Here they are, Ethan, Diane and supporters, inside Snow City. For anyone who might not know, that's Ethan Berkowitz at left. The fellow on Diane's right is Jeff Silverman, the filmmaker and producer with whom she did the Elizabeth Peratrovich documentary, For the Rights of All - Ending Jim Crow in Alaska, about the Native struggle for civil rights in Alaska.

That's Nellie Moore to the left. Melanie and Lisa were very happy to meet and talk to her. Nellie is a well known and highly respected public radio journalist and commentator in Alaska, and played an instrumental roll in making National Native News a hit in Indian Country nationwide.

We decided to run over and pay a visit to the McAdams for Senate camp. When we arrived, I was surprised to see that the very first person to greet us was Angela Cox, who readers will recall from the Anaktuvuk Pass wedding of B-III Hopson and Rainey Higbee - Angela's sister.

Angela has been an active campaigner for McAdams and joined a group of other Native youth in making a video promoting his candidacy - and she has been taking an active role in many Native leadership activities, encompassing both tribes and corporations.

I think that she is someone who we will all hear from in the future.

Just a couple of months ago, Scott McAdams was a name that few people knew, even in Alaska. In recent weeks, his name, face and message have become known all across the nation. He has been sought out for interviews by all the major news and propaganda media and, unlike some who have tried to hide and avoid any media that might be all unfriendly, he had the guts to be interviewed even by the biggest and most potent propaganda machine that the world has ever seen - Fox News. 

Part of his message had always been that, "despite the odds, we will win this."

At this moment when he stepped before supporters who had gathered in the hope of hearing a victory speech, the numbers had become clear. He would not win this race.

Before speaking, he paused for a bit, but when he did speak, he did so with strength and eloquence.

He promised those gathered that, whatever the final numbers might be, what they had begun with his campaign would carry on into the future, that a new movement had been born and it is a force to be reckoned with in the future.

Supporters listen to Scott McAdams.

In turn, Melanie and Lisa congratulated McAdams for a campaign well run and let him know they would remain among his supporters. I had hoped to get a picture of the three together in a place with decent light, but there was almost no light in this spot.

Some may wonder why I do not put on a flash at such moments, but, when documenting things, my basic philosophy is that I document events as I see them. If the setting is dark, I am going to leave it dark in the picture. 

A flash casts deceptive light upon the scene.

The lady with the recorder in the background is Ellen Lockyer, reporter for Alaska Statewide News. It always gives me a good feeling to see her on the job, because I have been seeing her on the job, anywhere in the state, for nearly 30 years now.

She keeps going. It gives me that much more hope that I can keep going.

As things continued at the McAdams camp, I hurried back over to the Berkowitz/Benson party. Before I reached the door, I saw Berkowitz doing an interview with Channel 2 as Diane took a break to be with her family.

Shortly after my return, Berkowitz got up to publicly thank his campaign staff and to give a speech. By now, it was clear that his Republican opponent, Sean Parnell, would remain governor. Berkowitz also promised his supporters that the work they had put their heart and life into would continue, and that a better day for Alaska was coming, a day where people of great diversity would all be made welcome at all levels of government and society.

Here, after introducing and saying something positive about all of the campaign staff that stand in front of him, he singled out a man in the crowd.

He said that young man would become well-known in Alaska. I should have written his name down, because I have forgotten it.

I am not even quite certain which young man it was; I think it was the fellow in the green, but I could be wrong.

I was struck by the fact that these people had all come to know each other very well. They had worked hard toward an objective, but the vote had not gone their way.

This caused me to wonder about myself. I could have been out there, slugging away in one, two, or three campaigns, but, politically, despite my convictions, I stayed low key. I justified this by the fact that Margie and I have just been hit too hard these past couple of years. I can afford neither the time or money to get heavily involved in any campaign.

Plus, ultimately, despite my lapses, I see myself as a person, who, sooner or later, must become a conduit to place the images and thoughts of many people - left, right, middle, and scattered - out there.

I can't get too partisan.

And yet, I am partisan.

Diane followed Ethan and spoke to supporters. Emotion overtook her. She paused for just a little bit, then continued on.

After she spoke, Diane received a hug from Mara Kimmel, Ethan's wife.

Karlin Itchoak and Monica Garcia.

I then rushed off to see if I could find Charlie, Melanie and Lisa again. Along with the entire McAdams party, they had ventured to Election Central at the Egan Center. So I headed there, too.

Just ahead of me, I saw these young supporters of Joe Miller doing the same.

As I walked alongside the Egan Center towards the main entrance, I saw that a homeless man had found a quiet place inside, where he could escape the cold and sleep in the warmth.

I wondered what he does, on nights when the Egan is not being used as Election Central?

And how long would he get away with being here on this night? When the candidates and their parties left, would he have to go, too?

Or would someone have already booted him out by then?

I entered, and found an enthusiastic crowd cheering Scott McAdams, but I could not find Charlie, Melanie, and Lisa. So I just started photographing other people.

Suddenly, Melane and Charlie were in front of my camera, smiling, waving a sign and flag.

But where was Lisa?

There she is! When it comes to her politics, Lisa is passionate. She is gung-ho.

Scott McAdams, onstage, cheered on by Lisa, Charlie, Melanie and a host of others.

I could not stay long. My friend, Larry Aiken, had undergone cancer treatment on this day and I had told him I would stop by. I would give him and Mona a ride to the store, to pick up needed supplies. So I headed toward the door, looking for other candidates such as Lisa Murkowski, who appears to be headed for victory in the Senate race, and Joe Miller.

I didn't see either of them, but I did see this group of young Miller supporters. I shot three or four frames.

"That picture will probably be in the paper tomorrow," I heard one of them say to the others as I stepped away to exit through the door. I stopped. "No," I said. "I don't work for the paper." I was trying to think how I might tell them of this blog, but I could think of no quick and easy way to explain it. I need to get some cards made up.

"You'll probably sell the picture and make money," one of them said.

"If I do," I said, certain that I would not be selling the picture, "I'll share the money with you."

Okay, they laughed.

Does someone want to buy a copy of this picture from me? Or perhaps usage rights in a major publication? To hang on a museum wall?

If you do, you will complicate my life, because then I will have to track these kids down and share the money with them. Plus, it would set a bad precedent for me, to pay these kids for having been in my picture. It's hard enough to make a living, already.

So I don't think I will sell this picture to you even if you ask.

Well, if you offered a million, I probably would. That way, I could give the kids a token something and then I could fund this blog, probably for the rest of my life.

When I saw these kids last night, their enthusiasm, their spirit of fun, their commitment to a cause I soundly believe to be wrong and misguided, I found my feelings toward them to be kind. I felt a desire that they find success in life. I want their spirit and enthusiasm to ultimately be rewarded with good things - but not with Joe Miller in the Senate.

Then I drove over, picked Larry and Mona up at their hotel near the Alaska Native Medical Center and drove them to Carr's.

Afterward, I was too exhausted to do anything but drive home. Mona said she would get me a cup of coffee from the hotel. I was going to take a picture of her bringing the coffee back to me but, somehow, I zoned out and then found the coffee in my hand, Mona going back into the hotel.

Thank you, Mona.

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