Tundra Vision: Public History Consultants

Anchorage Friends!
Join the AKBaseball250 Team at the Mt. View Library tonightat 6pm to learn about Baseball’s role in Alaska’s past, present and future, and how you can participate in this summer’s Am250-Ak’s Week of Dreams.

Alaska's Week of Dreams Kickoff to highlight baseball in the Last Frontier

Alaska is a place where dreams still come true. Join us at the Mr View Library at Feb 26 to learn about Alaska Week of Dreams and how you can get involved!

Alaska's Week of Dreams Kickoff to highlight baseball in the Last Frontier

A Tundra Vision revival at the Mountain View Library!

America turns 250—and Alaska is stepping up to the plate.

Join us on February 26th at 6pm at the Mountain View Library for America 250: Alaska’s Week of Dreams, a community celebration connecting our nation’s 250th anniversary with youth voices, local stories, and the future we’re building together. From baseball and teamwork to culture, history, and community pride, this evening highlights how young people and neighbors across Alaska are shaping what comes next.

Enjoy coffee and refreshments, hear from inspiring local speakers, and find out how your community can be part of Alaska’s Week of Dreams.

Free, family-friendly, and open to all.

Dad was incredibly proud to be part of the NN Cannery History Project and our collaboration with the Alaska State Museum in developing the exhibition, "Mug Up: The Language of Cannery Work." One of the exhibit legacies is a 40-minute film called "The Cannery Caretakers" which tells the story of cannery life from the vantage point of the local residents. Dad loved being a part of it and sharing his many stories.

As my friend Carvel says in the film, "Sharing stories is how we live on. How history is made." I am indebted to everyone who shared their stories about my Dad with me over the years. He will certainly live on through your collective memories.
Enjoy.

The Cannery Caretakers Filmed by Jensen Hall Creative and produced by Katherine Ringsmuth, this film tells the story of cannery life from the perspective of the village residents. ...

On October 7, 2024, my Dad, Gary Johnson, passed away in Arizona. He was a wonderful father, grandpa, and father-in-law who liked to tell my husband Eric, an attorney, the same "lawyer joke" whenever he saw him. At 80, he lived to see his "number-one" grandson (because he was the firstborn), Ben attend college at OSU, and his "number-two" grandson (secondborn) Tom run on the state-winning XC team and represent Alaska soccer at the regional level. He passed on to me his love of pets, family, baseball, and the value of teamwork. Mostly, I inherited from Dad his great appreciation and respect for the people of Bristol Bay—the year-round residents and those who participated in the salmon fishery each season. He called those who worked with him his "A-Team," his family. He will be missed by so many.

My sisters and I will host Last Mug Ups in honor of Dad in Seattle and Bristol Bay in 2025. Stay posted for more details as they develop. In the meantime, we've set up a site where anyone can share their favorite "fish story" about our Dad—believe me, he had many. https://www.kudoboard.com/boards/1PnKXiUn/gary-johnson

Why history matters.

Solidarity with Alaska’s Jewish Community | Alaska Historical Society Stranding of the Princess May at Sentinel Island near Juneau, Alaska, August 5, 1910. Courtesy of U.S. Geological Survey Photographic Library.

Best political ad ever. Rest In Peace Mike Gravel.

Mike Gravel - Rock - Mike Gravel is running for president of the United States of America.

Wooden Cork Commemoration — NN Cannery History Project Help commemorate the oft-forgotten valuable work of the people who have and continue to ply the waters and preserve salmon for tables around the world. The wooden cork you sponsor will feature the engraved name of the individual you want remembered and will be displayed in the Mug Up exhibition at t...

Wooden Cork Commemoration — NN Cannery History Project Trident Seafoods has generously donated retired wooden corks that were once used to float the linen nets used in the sailboat days of the Bristol Bay salmon fishery. Each cork is cleaned, engraved and will be included in the exhibit. Provide net hanging details. Mention listing of Honorees on the W

Mug Up: The Language of Work sneak peek...

First look at "Mug Up: The Language of Work."
Please consider helping the NN Cannery Project preserve Bristol Bay History. Get your wooden cork before it's too late. The Cork Commemoration Campaign ends on May 1, 2021. To learn more about the Mug Up exhibition and the wooden cork campaign, visit https://nncanneryproject.com/cannery-store

I remember giving Terrence a tour of the Alaska Baseball exhibit I curated in 2015--of which so much of the content was provided by the baseball-loving historian. At the end of the tour, Terrence put his hands together and gave me a Cal Ripkens Jr.-like ovation.*

Terrence had a knack for restoring my faith in history--and myself.
Ever since my first class with him 20 years ago, Terrence has been my friend. He always encouraged me to cherish the things that mattered most in life--my husband, my children. Terrence may have been an expert on the past, but he faithfully looked to the future.

A few summers ago, my family and I stayed with Terrence in Fairbanks, while my boys competed at a little league tournament. He was tired by joyful. I loved listening to Terrence and my son Ben talk about moneyball, Coopertown, and obscure player stats like two baseball nerds. I loved watching Terrence have a catch with my son Tom. It was poetry. It was perfect.

To me, Terrence greatest gift was presenting Alaska history for the future generation--allowing his young students to envision their place in that future. He certainly inspired me, in that class, so long ago. His vast knowledge and interpretation of the past gave his students the tools "to comprehend the tumult of the current moment" and to navigate a pathway forward.

Perhaps more than anyone, Terrence influenced my own profession pathway. But his friendship over the decades--has made me a better teacher, wife and mom. A better human being.
As I sit here, at my desk, looking out my window at grey skies looming over Cook Inlet, I am practically paralyzed with sadness. My gaze looks north--to the broken golden heart of Alaska. I mourn a future Alaska without Terrence.

But, then I think about Terrence's optimistic vision for Alaska--his belief in its next generation, and what he would say to me, to his own family, to all of us.

And so, I will spend the rest of the day grading finals, watching football, and decorating Christmas cookies with my sons, and will do my very best to remember the things that matter most.

*When Cal Ripken Jr. broke Lou Gehrig's Iron Man record 25 years ago, Orioles fans saluted him with an astounding 22-minute standing ovation.

I remember giving Terrence a tour of the Alaska Baseball exhibit I curated in 2015--of which so much of the content was provided by the baseball-loving historian. At the end of the tour, Terrence put his hands together and gave me a Cal Ripkens Jr.-like ovation.

Terrence had a knack for restoring my faith in history--and myself.
Every since my first class with him 20 years ago, Terrence has been my friend. He always encouraged me to cherish the things that mattered most in life--my husband, my children. Terrence may have been an expert on the past, but he faithfully looked to the future.
A few summers ago, my family and I stayed with Terrence in Fairbanks, while my boys competed at a little league tournament. He was tired by joyful. I loved listening to Terrence and my son Ben talk about moneyball, Coopertown, and obscure player stats like two baseball nerds. I loved watching Terrence have a catch with my son Tom. It was poetry. It was perfect.

To me, Terrence greatest gift was presenting Alaska history for the future generation--allowing his young students to envision their place in that future. He certainly inspired me, in that class, so long ago. His vast knowledge and interpretation of the past gave his students the tools "to comprehend the tumult of the current moment" and to navigate a pathway forward.

Perhaps more than anyone, Terrence influenced my own profession pathway. But his friendship over the decades--has made me a better teacher, wife and mom. A better human being.
As I sit here, at my desk, looking out my window at grey skies looming over Cook Inlet, I am practically paralyzed with sadness. My gaze looks north--to the broken golden heart of Alaska. I mourn a future Alaska without Terrence.

But, then I think about Terrence's optimistic vision for Alaska--his belief in its next generation, and what he would say to me, to his own family, to all of us.

And so, I will spend the rest of the day grading finals, watching football, and decorating Christmas cookies with my sons, and will do my very best to remember the things that matter most.