A boy with a huge talent was buried in Barrow today

Actually, he was no longer a boy, but a young man - a husband and father - but in my memory he is a boy, out on the snow-blown tundra, making people laugh, because that is how I knew him. The boy that I speak of is Perry Nageak and that is him sitting closest to the camera, with the uncovered head. 

The month was May, the year, 1997, and he was out at spring goose camp with the family of his uncle, Roy Nageak, the man to the right. In between them is Roy's son, Ernest, then nine-years old. Ernest had just shot the two geese - his first ever. I managed to shoot a nice little sequence of pictures that told the story.

As for Perry, what I remember best about him is how quick-witted and funny he was. What a story-teller!

I thought maybe someday, I'd see him on TV, making people laugh the world over.

Here he is, telling a hunting story, late at night in the tent - probably about 1 or 2 AM. Remember, this is the Arctic, and by May the time of the midnight sun has arrived.

You can see how amused he kept all the other young people in camp - his cousins and siblings.

Although you cannot see them clearly in this picture, there are adults in the tent as well. They laugh, too.

Since I learned of his death the other day, I have been trying to recall the specific stories that he told, but after 12 years, they elude me. I only remember how funny they were.

But wait... one comes back, even as I sit here and type.

It takes place on a caribou hunt. A boy shoots a caribou. Maybe the boy was Perry; maybe it was a brother, or a cousin. The bullet does not strike the caribou directly, but instead slams into the base of its antlers. The antlers fall off and then the caribou drops dead onto the tundra.

"Oh no!" Perry explains the story from the point of view of the caribou. "My antlers! My antlers! My beautiful antlers! I just can't live without my antlers!"

To Ben, Bonnie and all those who loved Perry, my deepest condolences. And thank you for sharing your boy with me for that one beautiful, wonderful, experience, back in May of 1997.

My prayers are with you too, for whatever the prayers of a man of doubtful faith are worth.

Speaking of which... that brings me back to today. I had to drive to town, to drop the Kivgiq prints off at the North Slope Borough's liason office in Anchorage. Afterwards, I drove to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things that I needed.

I returned to the car, and as I took my seat, I saw these two young Mormon missionaries talking to this man. Maybe they were trying to convert him. Maybe he was a fellow Mormon, and they were just having a friendly discussion.

I started the car and this brought KSKA, the Anchorage Public Radio station, into my speakers. The first sentence that I heard come was this, "I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints..."

The show was talk of the nation and the topic was a scene from "Big Love," the HBO series about a polygamist family belonging to a sect that had broken away from the Mormon Church. The most recent segment featured a scene that depicted an endowment ceremony in a Mormon temple. 

The caller was hurt and offended - as were all the Mormon callers who phoned in. Mormons are instructed that, once they step outside of the temple, they must never talk about the ordinances that take place within - not even among themselves.

The other point of view was that to tell the story the artist wanted to tell, it was necessary.

I could not only understand both points of view, but could empathize and justify each.

If my mother was still alive, I knew how she would have reacted. With horror. With utter and absolute horror. She would have saw it as a sign that the prophesied future times of the return of the persecution that our Mormon ancestors had borne was coming right back at us, that it was right around the corner.

And just beyond that - Armageddon, the cleansing of the world and the Second Coming of Christ.

I apologize for getting a little carried away here. Except for funerals of loved ones, I have not been inside a Mormon chapel for 25 years, but when one grows up as I did, this kind of thing never leaves you.

I thought about stopping, about getting the missionaries to pose for me, but I did not wish to interrupt their conversation and so just shot this image through the open window as I drove slowly past them.

I picked Melanie up at her place of work and then drove her to Ichiban's for lunch. It was Lisa who chose Ichiban's. She met us there, as did Charlie. Melanie and Charlie are going to ride the ferry to Cordova this weekend, just for fun.

They asked me for suggestions about what to do.

I've hung around Cordova a bit, so I gave them a few.

They can go down to the fishing boat docks, and watch sea otters play; they can go up the hill to the ski run and ski. They can walk all around, and drive here and there; visit with eagles.

Lisa and me. Lisa had asked me for a picture of Juniper, her cat. So I made a print last night and gave it to her today. She was most pleased about the timing, as some of her coworkers had been deriding cats, describing them as worthless, questioning why she would ever have a cat in the first place.

The answer was right there, in the picture, but such coworkers are unlikely to see it, even when they look straight at it.

Some of us ordered sushi.

When I arrived back home in Wasilla, I found Margie and Lavina watching what at first looked like an teen-exploitation flick, as the scene on screen depicted four high school cheerleaders running amok in a sex-toy shop. 

"What's this?" I asked. 

"Texas Cheerleader Massacre," Lavina answered.

I figured they must really be bored. I flopped down on the couch to see when the carnage would begin, determined to stay but minutes and then come out here and work on something.

But Lavina got the title wrong. 

It was, "Texas Cheerleader Scandal."

There was no carnage - just a rather oddly compelling story about a cheerleading coach trying to discipline some wild girls who were messing up the squad and intimidating all the other adults.

I watched it to the very end.

As he always does, Jimmy, who is here with me now even as I type, joined me and stayed right with me.

An evening sunbeam came through the window.

Kalib found it.

I have no time for this blog tonight, none at all - but what the hell, here it is

So here we are this morning at IHOP, Margie, Lavina, Kalib, me and our waitress. There's a pretty dramatic story behind that cup of coffee, and I thought I would tell it tonight, but I'm on deadline and haven't the time.

Someday, I will tell the story, if I don't wind up in Hell, first.

Pioneer Peak, from the stoplight immediately before the Taco Bell turnoff. No matter how crazy it gets around this place, guess what?

I can look any direction I want and Alaska is still out there.

And that feels good. I cannot tell you how good it feels.

Only Alaska feels that good.

Did you know that I love this place?

The place they call Alaska?

Damn, I love it!

A late afternoon drive on Schrock Road.

Lavina barbecues pork chops. They were damn good, scrumptious.

Muzzy invades and marks the red dog's territory. Red Dog can't do anything about it.

It's free, but I was afraid that if I took it, someone would shoot me, anyway. People are always getting shot around here for taking free TV's. Afterward, the shooter removes the "free" sign and claims he shot in defense of property.

Not a single shooter has ever been convicted.

I never take these free TV's.

That's why I'm still alive today.

Jacob turns Kalib's stroller loose on a hill.

Jacob and Lavina get into a game of "catch the stroller." It's Lavina's turn to catch.

Now it's Jacob's turn.

The game of catch is over, but the fun isn't.

Jacob, Lavina, Kalib and Muzzy.

I wonder if there was any school today?

Today as I walked through my personal nightmare, the subdivision called Serendipity, these two boys came zipping by. They turned onto a side road, then soon came zipping back.

If I had had my DSLR's, I could have followed the action, but I only took the pocket camera on my walk and it recycles too slow. So I missed the mishap, which happened immediately after I took the top picture. I did capture the aftermath. 

As you can see, they went around a corner and the sled broke where the rope was attached. The boy on the sled slid to the curb.

That's Tristan, 11, on the left, and Reed, 12, on the right. I wondered why they were out during school hours and thought about asking them, but I did not want to frighten them, so I did not.

It was the first walk that I have taken through Serendipity in a long time; I think the first time this year. It hurts me to walk in Serendipity, that's why. I knew it when it was wild, when no one called it Serendipity. I knew it when, on a day such as today, it would be just me back there, on my skis, with my late dog, Willow, or my even later dog, Scout.

I left Serendipity and headed back to the house. It was then that I discovered that someone was in the air, above me, manning the stick.

This hurts, too.

Kalib stayed with us, all day today, after being gone for several days in a row. He walked all about, as if walking was something that he had always been doing.

All day long, he was happy; happier then I have seen him since before we went to Washington DC and Margie got hurt and he went off to daycare.

All day long, Margie was happier than I have seen her, since she got hurt.

Kalib plays with Royce and Muzzy. There are two more images in this series, but I am saving them for Grahamn Kracker's No Cats Allowed Kracker Cat blog.

I had gone from my office into the bedroom to get my jacket so that I could go to a kiosk and get some coffee.

Margie came in. "There's a young person here to see you," she said.

"Who?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "He knocked on the door and then asked for you."

So I headed to the door expecting to see some kind of missionary or salesman but instead it was Mike. I had not seen Mike for years.

He was probably about 12 when I first met him. I was walking and he came pedaling by me on a bike. I took his picture. We became friends after that and he would often come by to watch my electric train buzz around my office.

He was a train enthusiast, and knew more about them then I did. Once, he needed a caboose, so I gave him mine.

He is 19 now and lives in Talkeetna. Something brought him to the neighborhood, so he stopped by to say hi.

He was curious about my train. Trouble is, after I broke my shoulder and got it replaced with titanium, I could not do the things necessary to keep that train running.

One day, I will make it run again.

Kalib studies a bubble.

Kalib reaches for bubbles. And who blows all these bubbles?

Why, its his Mom, Lavina. 

Kalib. These bubbles were blown last night, by the way.

Today, as I drank my coffee and ate a cinnamon roll, I drove by Iona, the place where people pray. I thought about Elvis Presley, and about the humble people that he sang about.

And this is from yesterday's coffee break. Church Road. People must pray here, too. Maybe that guy up there is praying, quietly, so no one will hear.

Curious. There are no churches on Church Road, but there are a bunch on Lucille Street.

Tot pulls fire alarm - daycare gets evacuated - firetruck comes - tots wear space blankets

It was awful. We drove into the parking lot of the daycare center where Kalib now goes and there found a firetruck, obviously called to action, and a bunch of toddlers huddled nearby, wrapped in space blankets.

That's not what was awful. That was kind of cute. What was awful is that Margie and I had not seen Kalib for several days. His Mom and Dad had been housesitting for some friends in Anchorage and they had taken him with them.

We had told them not to take him, but to leave him with us. They disobeyed.

Now I had to take Margie to town to get some X-rays so that we would know how well the breaks in her knee and wrist were healing.

Since we were in town, we went to see Kalib, but we arrived during an emergency.

We studied the faces of all the little toddlers huddled by the firetruck.

None belonged to Kalib.

And then the firetruck left.

We spotted Kalib! He was being carried in the arms of a daycare worker. He and the littlest toddlers had all been evacuated to a nearby building, but now she was bringing him back.

There never had been a fire. One of Kalib's more advanced and skilled daycare mates had found the emergency fire alarm and had pulled it.

Hence, all the excitement.

Too bad we did not get there earlier, when people still thought there might be a fire.

Once he was safely back inside the daycare center, Kalib completely ignored me. He wanted only to go to his Mom, who I had picked up at work and brought over.

Once he was safely in his mother's arms, Kalib wanted to come to me.

Kalib, coming to me.

And look at that! It's right there on his sweatshirt. It is he who is coming to the rescue, not me. 

As for Margie, I haven't the time or energy to post the experience tonight, but I will try tomorrow, if nothing prevents me.

Kalib suddenly walks - the series

I stood by the kitchen sink. Kalib stood about three feet away, where he leaned toward the cabinet against which he supported himself with his hands. Lavina rouched in the same position that you see here, about two feet away from Kalib.

He turned toward her, removed his hands from the cabinet, took one step, right into her arms. Suddenly, all the adults present - Lavina, Margie, and me, began to shriek, squeal, laugh and applaud with joy.

Kalib had taken his first step.

It was 7:28 PM, yesterday.

I did not have my camera in hand.

I ran into my office to grab it - the 5D 2, because of them all, it does the best in low light and the light was really low. It was not there. 

I ran outside, to the car. There it was.

Fortunately, it had not yet completely chilled as I had driven recently.

As I stepped back into the house, I saw Kalib, this time in the middle of the living room, take another step into Lavina's outstretched arms.

"His second step," she said happily.

His third ended in a dive onto the cat, Royce, but I promised Grahamn Kracker that I would him put the cat diving series on his blog, No Cats Allowed.

What you see above is Lavina coaxing him to take his fourth step.

He takes it - again, right into her arms.

The two separate, and Lavina again reaches out her arms to him - but Kalib suddenly becomes bold and walks away in the opposite direction. 

Soon the two move into the kitchen. This time, when Kalib tries to walk toward her, Lavina frames him in her camera, which she has set to video.

He is a little unsure of himself and thinks mighty hard about his next step.

He takes it, gains his confidence, moves a step closer to Mom and laughs out loud.

Soon, he is in the opposite corner, by the laundry, he turns back toward her, then totters. For a moment, it seems as if he will fall.

But Kalib doesn't fall! Kalib is a walker now. Mom starts to cry (see yesterday's entry as well),

And then, suddenly, he does fall - face first. He bumps his head on the floor.

Now Kalib cries. Mom picks him up. He knows that he has everybody's attention now and enjoys the fact that everyone is pouring sympathy upon him, so he lets out the loudest, most animated cry yet.

Grandma offers him a Grahamn Kracker. Kalib stops his crying and takes it.

We had already eaten when Kalib took his first step, so we waited until tonight to take him out to dinner to celebrate. Dinner took place at Jalepeno's, about three miles from the house. The rest of us drove, but we let Kalib walk, now that he knew how.

He even beat us to the restaurant - which is understandable, because we gave him a four-hour headstart.

After dipping a chip in his quacomole, Kalib surprised us all again, but uttering his first, complete paragraph, which he launched with an exclamatory.

"Damnit, Grandpa!" he launched. "Why the hell did you make me walk? It was snowing out there. I almost got hit by a snowmachine. A moose tried to jump on me. A little girl ran out of her house and kissed me. Why, Grandpa! Why? Why the hell did you do it? Damnit. Damnit, anyway."

I felt so proud!

My little grandson, walkin' and cussin'!