Also go to Carl Donohue.
Jim
Storytellers by Carl Donohue
My parents, all the way from sunny Australia, visited me here in Alaska recently and together we took a trip to Denali National Park for a few cold, snowy days last fall.
We sought refuge from what my dad referred to as "the brutal and harsh sub-arctic weather" in the form of lattes and hot sandwiches at the visitor's center, where my mother, the consummate shopper, immediately discovered the souvenir store.
While mum browsed the shirts and hat racks, my dad and I wiled away the hours looking at some of the stirring photos on display.
A postcard image of a wolf that was a captive animal pre-empted a discussion of photography, art, and integrity.
That discussion, minus the one thousand interruptions from my mother inquiring about shirt sizes, colors, and styles, led to this column.
Carl Donohue