Keith: "Ave atque Vale"

Hail, and farewell, Keith.
Two years, tomorrow.
Two years.

I miss you, man.

Keith: The Fisher of Tales

 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

My Pal Keith: Happy 51st!

My pal Keith. Tomorrow would have been his 51st birthday. 

Here's a shot from Summer 2002. He and I were running around his adopted state of Alaska in my first visit. I'm not sure why I took so long to head north; I know that his yearly trips south to see family and friends made it easy to put off such a visit, and I know being a cash-strapped grad student for many years was also part of the equation.  Sadly so, I now know.  I wish I'd visited more often.  

Also, I am surprised Keith sat still long enough for a photo. That's either bug spray or pepper spray (for the bears) in his hand, I'm fairly sure.

I miss you, my friend.

And, wherever he may be, on the next turn of the wheel, if it is at all possible, Keith is sending his love, that mix of being concerned and compassionate, of being heedful and helpful,  to his family and his friends.

Keith: Alaskan Double Exposure

Back in 2004 and in the wake of my father's death, I spent a week with my friend Keith Sanders touring different sections of Alaska by car, ferry, train, and small plane. We had a great time cruising the highways, fishing, hiking, checking out glaciers on foot and aloft, talking and talking. He helped me, again, with the loss of my father. We got to be the friends in person again for a bit more than a week that we'd always been, close or far away. It had been too long since we had spent time in each other's company.

In the wake of Keith's death earlier this year, I've been looking at old photos and mining old memories of our friendship. I found these accidental double exposures in an envelope of "rejects" for the photo album I put together after that trip.

I am posting these three sample double exposures mostly for fun --even a bad photo may be worth a second look-- though also in simple memory-of-Keith. That first photo with an Alaskan mountainscape below and Keith walking away above hit me hard when I happened upon it.
I don't know what I expected to happen, truly, but I never really imagined that Keith wouldn't be here-- by my side in hard times, or a phone call away most of the time-- and it hurts that he isn't here.

I've got more stories to share, man, and I want to hear yours too.