Once again, I leave home to return home: three shots through a jet window

Thanks to the fact that we would have to stop in both Fairbanks and Prudhoe Bay, the morning flight from Anchorage to Barrow takes nearly four-a-half hours. It leaves Anchorage at 6:00 AM and lands in Barrow at 10:21. Here we are, approaching Faribanks, where the temperature is 22 below zero. Not at all bad for this time of year.

Now we are flying west from Prudhoe to Barrow. The time is about 10: AM. From an altitude of 30,000 feet or so, it almost looks like the sun will rise today, but it will not.

And here we are, on final for Will Rogers-Wiley Post Memorial Airport Barrow at mid-morning. Five-and-a-half hours earlier, I drove away from my house in Wasilla. Now, here I am landing in my home on the Arctic Slope on a 20-20 morning - temperature, 20 below, wind speed 20 mph. 

There are so many places that feel like home to me that life can get pretty confusing sometimes. No matter where I am, I am missing another place. No matter who I am with, I am missing someone else. Yet, I am always glad to be in the place where I am at and to share the company of the people who I am with.

Much has happened since I have landed and I have taken quite a few pictures. I have no time to edit, write, or blog any further today, however, so this must do it for now.

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We celebrated Jacob's birthday in Anchorage; two cling together in the Bay of Bengal

As already noted, Margie and I had brought the two little ones home to spend the night with us so that Jacob and Lavina could go out and have a Jacob birthday date, all to themselves. Now, the night was over and it was time to take Jobe and Kalib back to their mom and dad and eat a birthday lunch with them.

I had planned to have Margie drop me off at the airport so that I could fly to Barrow, but then I had to postpone my flight until early Monday morning, as I just could not get everything done that needed to be done.

I found Jobe ready to go, however - looking quite dapper in his new hat.

And Kalib was ready with his spatula. It was time to head to town, to celebrate the birthday of their father, our eldest child.

We left the valley in fog and when we drove into Anchorage, we found this snow-laden truck, creating its own mini-blizzard.

The plan was to meet at the Spenard Road House. Charlie arrived just ahead of us and walked to the door, his shadow tagging along.

Amazing, isn't it? How such a slender guy can cast such a burly shadow?

Kalib momentarily replaced his spatula with Color Crayons, most of which would wind up on the floor.

Jobe, of course, intently observed his surroundings. He is a most observant little tot.

And so I remembered that night 36 years ago when I took Margie to the labor room in Provo, Utah. She had been looking forward to giving birth to our first baby, but now she was not happy. It hurt and she did not want to go through with it.

"I've changed my mind," she said. "Take me home."

She wasn't joking, either. She was very serious. When I refused to take her home, she got quite upset with me.

Later, though, as she held this little one to her breast and then offered me a kiss, she completely forgave me.

As we sat there, remembering, Jacob put Jobe on my shoulders and held him there. Lavina could not resist and so took my camera away from me and turned it back on me.

It doesn't matter whether she is using the most simple, low-quality point and shoot or her iPhone, Lavina knows how to take a picture. She could be a pro, if that were her heart's desire.

She caught it all, right here - the sadness that I cannot conceal, even in the most happy situation, coupled with the essence of all that I have to live for.

I hope you catch this one soon, Suji - your little love Jobe, with your Uncle Bill, half-way-around the world from you but traveling this hard part of the journey with you.

And you, too, Gane. Maybe one day we will have a little granddaughter niece for you and she can be your little love.

That's Carl, Rex's friend that he met through Ama, sitting with us. As for Rex and Ama, they are right now driving through British Columbia, headed toward the Alaska Highway so that they can drive to Anchorage and then catch a jet to New York.

In the past week, Interior temperatures have been as cold as -50, so I am a little concerned about this drive.

Muzzy had missed the dinner, but insisted that I come out and say "hi" before we left.

Margie wanted a mint, so I stopped at the Holiday Station by Merrill Field. As I went in to buy her one, this plane came by on final -reminding me of a promise I once made but can now never keep.

And then we set off to drive home.

It was foggy on the Hay Flats.

My plan now was to get everything done by 10:00 PM, 11:00 at the latest, go to bed, get up at 3:30 AM and then head back Anchorage and to the airport, where my flight was scheduled to depart at 6:00 AM.

I was well on track to meeting that goal, when Lightroom misfired, and then launched a two hour process to diagnose and repair itself and then, at the very end of that process, declared the catalog to be corrupted beyond repair. So I had to start anew. There would be little time for sleeping ahead of me.

And this one from India:

The Bay of Bengal, about 30 miles south of Chennai: They play, and cling together.

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Saga of the spatula continues; Bangalore girl

Today is Jacob's birthday, so yesterday I drove to Anchorage with Margie so that we could pick up the little ones and bring them home with us. This would give Jacob and Lavina a chance to go out on a date, just like they used to do before the babies came along.

As we drove towards town, we saw that this blue car had left the road and wound up on the other side of the fence. There were a number of police vehicles around, but I saw no ambulance. I hope this means that no one was hurt, but I don't know.

When we arrived at the house, we found Kalib with his spatula.

Lavina wanted me to take a picture of her and her boys in their Christmas jammies so that she could make a family Christmas card out of it.

Kalib put on his jammies, but still he kept hold of that spatula.

The idea was to get Muzzy and everybody posed, but Muzzy was shooting all over the place and Kalib had momentarily replaced his spatula with a shovel. All he wanted to do now was to shovel snow - Christmas card pictures be damned.

So, do you think I managed to pull a worthy Christmas card picture out of this chaos?

I don't know. I haven't looked at "the poses" yet. We will find out in time.

Soon, Kalib was dressed, had once again recovered his spatula and was ready to head back to Wasilla with us. 

When he realized that his parents and little brother were not coming, too, he cried a little bit, but held fast to the spatula.

Now it is late at night and Kalib lies in bed, next to his grandmother. The spatula is nowhere in sight, but still Kailb will fall asleep.

As for little Jobe, tied snug into his cradleboard, he has already fallen asleep.

And now, one frame from India:

Bangalore girl.

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Warren Matumeak, Iñupiaq Elder of the Year, completes his life journey

Late yesterday afternoon, I learned that Warren Matumeak of Barrow had just passed away. I last saw Warren on November 19, at the close of the Uqapiaqta Elders and Youth Conference where he was honored by the Iñupiat History and Culture Commission with the Iñupiaq Elder of the Year Award.

Two younger people were also honored then - Jana Harcharek and Josiah Patkotak, who received the Iñupiaq adult and youth awards respectively. In time, I will introduce both of them here, but today I want the images in this blog to focus solely upon Warren. In the image above, his name has just been called and he is about to go to the front to receive his recognition.

Tomorrow, I leave for Barrow where I will attend his funeral. I have been forced to miss many important funerals lately, from Mabel Aiken in Barrow to Soundarya in Bangalore, but I intend to be there for Warren's. After I arrive in Barrow and get a chance to talk with a few of those who loved him and worked closely with him, I will try to write a little more and to communicate a bit about who he was and how people saw him.

In my opinion, he was one of the great men of the Arctic. He will take a treasure to the grave with him - the knowledge and experience that he possessed.

For now, I am going to say little and just let these pictures of what I believe to have been his final appearance before the public speak for themselves.

Over the years, I have photographed Warren in many situations - directing the North Slope Borough Wildlife Management Department; drumming, singing and dancing from Barrow to Washington, DC - leading the choir and preaching in church and at many singspirations. I have photographed him feeding Russian Yup'ik and Chukchi dancers in his home and being fed by them in their Chukotka homes.

But my very favorite photograph that I ever took of him is a black and white that shows him sitting in front of a piano, looking a little weak and pale but grateful, with his arm around a young boy who holds a frozen fish and grins broadly.

That young boy is his grandson, Tommy Akpik, who you can see as an adult standing here behind him in the gray sweatshirt. Tommy was nine, and had gone through a grueling ordeal out on the tundra far from the nearest help and had saved his grandfather's life after Warren suffered a heart attack.

If I can find that picture before I leave for Barrow, after I get to Barrow I will put it in this blog and I will tell the story behind it.

Warren moves to the podium.

Warren receives his award, along with a hug from Patuk Glenn.

The gentleman smiling from the left, by the way, is Wesley Aiken, Larry Aiken's father. Warren and Wesley grew up together and served in the Army together.

Warren receives the mic from IHLC's Ethel Williams.

Warren expresses his thanks for this award.

Warren Matumeak.

Warren acknowledges the applause given to him by members of the board of IHLC.

He then returns to the audience, where his family and friends await him.

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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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