In 1959, my father sat in the cold metal hut buried halfway into the ground of Shemya Island, a remote piece of land that sits near the very end of the tongue full of islands that make up the western edge of Alaska. It’s no surprise that some of his photos from that island have Russian fishermen in them. My father was an electronic spy some 20 years or so before electronics was a thing.
13 Comments
Karen Isble
3/16/2016 03:43:11 pm
I LOVE this. Great analogy, and great conclusion. Thanks!
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Patti Patel
3/16/2016 03:53:31 pm
Thanks, Karen!
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Sandra J Kent
3/30/2016 04:55:24 pm
Excellent. I love your generational story. The apple indeed does not fall far from the tree, but it might look a bit different. Good reminder of prospect research value.
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Patti Patel
4/4/2016 08:29:01 pm
Thanks, Sandra! 3/19/2016 05:37:36 pm
Fantastic. A great submission for #ResearchPride month. Thank you, Marianne!
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Patti Patel
3/19/2016 06:49:04 pm
Good to hear from you, Sarah!
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Jennifer Walton
3/29/2016 09:50:34 am
Oh, but this is wonderful (and of course I expected nothing less from this author)! Thank you, Marianne!
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Misa Lobato
4/4/2016 05:19:28 pm
I love this story, Marianne!
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4/5/2016 07:34:43 am
Thanks so much, Misa! It meant a lot to me to share it.
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