The anthropologist, Peter Humming, was staying on the reserve for the summer, working on his post-doc thesis. He seemed eager to share his knowledge of the Haida, indeed, he struck me as lonely as I was. Far from home, he talked too about Kalamazoo, Michigan and his family there.
He showed me pictures from a leather wallet with a monogram "PH". The wallet looked brand new.
“A gift,” he said, “from Dawn, my girlfriend. Here she is.” Young, childlike, fair-haired, with a broad brow and hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Why didn"t I think of doing something with hair that day? I stroked my lovely gold-brown locks and wished I"d finished touching up the roots that morning instead of taking off on my half-c****d hike up the trail and down to the Lodge. “Is that your mother?” I asked, as he pro
