Prince William Sound: June 2002. Keith Sanders in one of his favorite postures: with fishing pole in hand. (The only posture better would be with his wife and kids, with friends.) Keith and I had been kayaking about from a cabin in the nature reserve, after having been dropped off by boat for a few days of catching up on each other's lives, even if we didn't catch any fish.
Photos of photos.
Keith,
Happy 51st, again. I wish you were here. We all wish you were here.
Remember that time back in '79 or '80 when we waited two hours or so in line at the Original Steele's Diveshop for the rental equipment sale to begin? We had a blast telling tales in tandem and entertaining the crowd. (Okay, ten or twelve people was not much of a crowd, but for two young guys, it felt like a crowd.) I remember that time passing so quickly, so smoothly, as we told silly story after silly story, mishap after mishap, that day. Folks did thank us for helping the time pass so quickly. We did good, and we had some fun. We also both picked up decent ex-rental suits that day, suits I can still picture and may have somewhere in the garage: 5 mm thickness, though broken in; black with blue highlights; waffle-stitched; high-rise pants (not farmer johns); and jackets with integral hoods. Those wetsuits proved just a bit too snug, suits we had to pass on and replace within the year or two. We weren't noticing that we were still growing. Those bargains still count.
We worked together well, kayaking that time (deciding against hubris together, deciding not to venture out into that storm), diving so many times, watching over friends and strangers in the abalone-waters, working on the school newspaper, solving the ills of the world (at least, theoretically), road-tripping, and telling so many tales over and over.
(I'll admit that I was counting on you to stand up against any bears for us both; luckily, that one never happened, and you were Alaska's recently adopted son.)
More than anything, I know you are out there collecting more stories, fishing for the good ones to share when I cross over too. We never voiced that plan aloud, but we didn't need to, did we?
I'm looking forward to that reunion, my friend. But just not yet.
Your pal,
Matt
