Joe the Water Man pours coffee at Pepe's; Emily plays Little Dribblers as she prepares for surgery; Little Alan - his grandfather watches old Barrow movies

It was a good and productive day - but I took very few pictures as I have already done all the images for this project.

I did photograph Joe the Water Man, however, as he poured coffee this morning at Pepe's North of the Border Mexican Restaurant, where I ate a breakfast of ham, eggs, hash browns and wheat toast.

Not so long ago, there was two ways to get water into your home in Barrow. You could go to Freshwater Lake, cut out some blocks of ice, put them on your sled, bring them home, lug them into your house, put them into the water barrel to melt - or you could call out for the kind of service provided by Joe the Waterman.

If you called Joe, he would show up wearing no parka, no hat, not even a sweatshirt - it did not matter what the temperature was; even when it dropped into the minus 50's, Joe wore only a t-shirt and jeans (but always a good pair of gloves).

When I would see him this way, I always worried about the outcome should he break down somewhere on a truly bitter day, lose the heat in his truck and have too great a distance to cover on foot to the next heated structure to get there before the cold got him.

Praise be! It never happened.

He drove the truck for his mother, Fran Tate, and now he waits tables and helps her run Pepe's, which has brought her world-wide fame as the owner of the farthest north Mexican Restaurant in the world. Johnny Carson even brought her on his show once, and she brought an "oosik"... wait... wait... wait...

I should tell this story with a picture of Fran, who is now well into her 70's and still running the show.

I did not see her today, but maybe I will catch her before I leave. I don't know. I might, I might not.

Here's Joe at the cash register, where he just took my money. Concerning the characters on the shelf behind him, he said the seven to the right are the cooks who work at Pepe's and the paunch-bellied blonde to the left "is my mom."

A decade or so has passed since Joe quit driving the water truck, but people still call him and ask him to bring them water.

This is ten year-old Emily Brower, and she had stopped briefly at the home of her Aapa and Aaka, Savik and Myrna Ahmaogak, to pick Myrna up and take her to Wednesday evening church services.

Emily was born with a cleft-palette and has had five corrective surgeries and will soon be going to Anchorage for another. After that, she will get braces. She has made huge progress and I believe she will continue to do so.

Emily is playing Little Dribblers basketball. "I love it," she says.

This is Emily's cousin, Little Alan Beall, who is also going to church with his Aaka Myrna and his Aunt Jo-Jo Brower, Emily's mom.

Little Alan's mother, Shareen, reports that lately, Little Alan has begun making regular visits to the home of his Aunt Jo-Jo, Uncle Arnold and cousin Emily. He enjoys the feeling of independence that he gets when he leaves his mother behind and goes off to visit without her (Jo-Jo comes and picks him up).

Lately, his hair had grown long but he did not want to let anyone cut it. So he was told that if he wanted to keep visiting his aunt and uncle, he had to let Uncle Arnold cut it.

So he did. His hair is short now. His visits continue.

I spent some time tonight watching old Barrow films from the 40's and 50's with Savik, who recently returned from Anchorage where he had kidney surgery. "Now, I have to build up my strength," he told me.

Here, he watches as a woman from the days of his youth is tossed high off the boatskin blanket at the whaling feast of Nalukatak. When I first met Savik over a quarter-of-a-century ago, he was still recovering from having broken both legs doing the blanket toss in Wainwright.

At a different point in the film, we watched as people clad in their Sunday best parkas poured out of the Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church. "There's Mom!" he said as several women exited together.

We also watched as a runner came into the village off the sea ice, carrying the flag of his whaling crew. This told the village that the crew had just landed a bowhead.

Today, the landing of a whale is still announced in this ceremonial way, but everybody knows as the news is instantly broadcast over VHF radio. Usually a youth carries the flag as he races to town on his snowmachine. 

In those days, Savik told me, the young man always ran with the flag. He did not even take a dog team. Trails can easily be ten, 15 miles long and the sea ice very rough.

Those runners were tough guys.

"Praying for you, praying for you,

someone is praying for you

Your path may be darkened

Your friends may be few

but someone is praying for you."

Savik has gone to bed, but his TV is still on - a recording of a singspiration in Wainwright, and the song from which the verse above comes from is being sung - first in Iñupiaq, then English.

What happens when a soldier meets a nurse; Willie Hensley signs books in Barrow

Over half a century ago, when Savik Ahmaogak was stationed at Fort Richardson in Anchorage, he saw Myrna, who was working at the Alaska Native hospital, dressed in her white dress and white cap. "Wow!" he remembers.

Today, the couple celebrated their 51st wedding anniversary. Here they are, about to have a lunchtime breakfast at Osaka Restaurant in Barrow.

Later, children and grandchildren hosted a dinner for them. Afterward, KBRW's famous "Birthday Program" came on the radio. Each day for one hour, people from all across the Arctic Slope call in to give birthday and anniversary greetings to friends and relatives.

Here, granddaughter Kellen is on the phone, sending her grandparents a happy anniversary over the radio, as they listen in the next room.

Kellen leans against her Dad, Allen Snow. Savik and Myrna's daughter Corrina listens from the couch.

James and Kellen hug their grandparents goodbye. Thank you, Savik and Myrna, for rescuing me from the expensive hotel, for always being good hosts and treating me like family.

Willie Hensley, Iñupiat land claims activist from Kotzebue, who has been one of Alaska's strongest leaders, especially on Native issues, did a book signing at the Tuzzy Consortium Library, where he gave a speech and presented a historical slide show.

His book, Fifty Miles from Tomorrow (Farah, Strauss and Gereaux), chronicles his experiences and observations of the fight Alaska Natives had to make - and must continue to make - just to hang on to pieces of what was their's to begin with - from the land that nurtured their bodies to the songs and dances that sustained their souls.

As a young man, Hensley saw a society taking over everything even as it pretended that Alaska was an empty place there for the taking, as if the original occupants did not even exist.

Ten thousand years of experience and knowledge, held by no one else, was being trivialized, treated as though it did not matter, had never happened.

"I just could not accept the notion that 10,000 years of our history, knowledge and, yes, religion, was somehow inadequate," Hensley stated.

Hensley autographs books at the library. 

I would like to write more about this, but it is very late and my bloghost, Squarespace, always a fright, is acting extra quirky tonight and has already wasted two hours of my time. 

So, buy the book, read it and find out for yourself.

This is now one of Alaska's, "must read" books. 

And if any of you are thinking about blogging, stay away from Squarespace!

AAAAAARGH!

Now, how am I supposed to sleep?