I was introduced to the town of Hope by my soon to be stepfather Joe, when me, my two sisters and mother moved to Anchorage, Alaska in November of 1985. We remained in Anchorage through the winter, but frequently made trips to the small town of Hope, where Joe had once lived and owned a piece of property.

    In the fall of 1986, we made the move to the small town, (about 250 people at that time), where we called home for the next 3 years. Life was, and still is quiet, slow and sometimes boring in Hope, but it's where I had my first beer, caught my first fish, built my first tree house, had my first kiss, and made lifelong friends. Every time I go there, I think about those days and look for familiar faces.

    Hope is an interesting place. When you go there, you are reminded that the important things in life are not quantified by a timepiece or status. It's community. It's nature. It's spirituality. Once you go, you will find every reason to go back, again and again. It's a place that gets stuck in your heart.