Front Page Coverage in the Anchorage Daily News

St. Michael tragedy fosters a new performance piece

'1,000 Cranes' opens Friday

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Photo courtesy Leslie Kimiko Ward

Leslie Kimiko Ward holding the 1,000 origami cranes she and St. Michael children folded in four days.

Read more here: http://www.adn.com/2012/08/16/2590884/st-michael-tragedy-fosters-a-new.html#storylink=cpy

By MIKE DUNHAM
Anchorage Daily News

Published: August 17th, 2012 01:36 PM 
Last Modified: August 17th, 2012 01:38 PM

In June of 2011, Anchorage dancer and choreographer Leslie Kimiko Ward worried that her two week artist residency at the school in the Western Alaska village of Saint Michael would be cut short. At the end of her first week in the village, a young man drowned in a lake near the school.

Shows set for Friday, Saturday

"1,000 CRANES" will be presented at 8 p.m. on Friday and Saturday through Aug. 25 at Out North, 3800 DeBarr Road. Tickets are $25 at the door and atcentertix.net. Patrons can get a discount by folding an origami crane, posting a photo of it to Facebook and tagging it to Out North. 

More information is available online at: 1000 cranes for suicide prevention and facebook.

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Alaska State Troopers reported that 23-year-old Johnny Prince, of nearby Kotlik, tried to "skip" his snowmachine across the pond, but the machine stalled and sank. Prince had several relatives in St. Michael and was visiting family when the incident occurred.

Teachers told Ward that students might not come to school the next week. They shared their fears that the blow could trigger grief and depression that would cause a friend or family member to take his or her own life, possibly leading to a chain reaction of more suicides.

"I didn't know what to do with myself," Ward said in an interview. "But I decided to fold 1,000 origami cranes in the week I had left -- a gesture, I guess."

In Japan, the paper cranes are a symbol of peace and reconciliation -- not to mention a distraction. The crane is not a particularly easy form to make. It requires patience and concentration.

The kids did come back to school and some began making cranes with her.

"It had a good effect on the kids," said Alice Fitka, a behavioral health specialist with Norton Sound Health Corp., whose job duties include substance abuse assessment and counseling. "It really lifted their spirits to have something like that happen in the young man's memory."

Ward posted pictures on the Internet. Friends in Anchorage joined in and sent their own photos to the Saint Michael kids.

Suddenly, Ward said, "The story went viral. We had people sending us pictures of their cranes from Washington, Louisiana, Greece, Sweden, a whole Coast Guard unit in Georgia."

"It made it less painful for everyone," Fitka said. "Especially when they learned it had gone on the Internet, that other people were doing it too."

Ward and the students finished the 1,000 cranes in four days. They presented the finished pieces to the village in a performance.

Fitka remembered the presentation in the school gym with the 1,000 paper birds and a performance with the kids drumming on five gallon buckets.

"That part really amazed me," she said, "how in such a short period of time she had the kids making music with buckets wrapped with clear packing tape. And it sounded so beautiful. I think she really lifted up the community."

For Ward the cranes were a tangible way of overcoming the sense of isolation that can contribute to depression. "Suicide is the ultimate disconnect," she said. The project had the effect of connecting people from around the world with villagers in Saint Michael. Ward said a pivotal moment came when one of the students mused, "How do all these people know who we are? Why do they care about us?"

In January, Ward created a short piece in the "Under 30" show at Out North Contemporary Art House in Anchorage, working with storyteller Jack Dalton to present the crane experience as something like a legend.

The show came and went, but she mentioned it over coffee with Tami Lubitsh. Lubitsh, an Anchorage mental health clinician who has used theater as therapy with prisoners, was intrigued. She had worked as a theater director in Israel before moving to the United States. The two agreed to collaborate in turning the "Under 30" piece into a full-length performance work, which will debut at 8 p.m. Friday. at Out North.

The revised "1,000 Cranes" is about 90 minutes long, Lubitsh said. It includes dance, theater and video to drive home the message of connection.

"We have a lot of ways to connect on a superficial level," Lubitsh said. "But the deeper level is becoming neglected. We've lost something very profound."

Expanding the original performance piece has been "a pretty big process," Ward said, "and one that I stuck around in Alaska just to have."

Ward had planned to move to a farm in Oregon this summer before she joined forces with Lubitsh. "I sold everything I own, turned down all my summer work, got rid of my housing. I've been car camping and couch surfing, working only on this project. Maybe it will make some impact on the hemorrhage of smart, bright people in this state."

Alaska's suicide rate, 23 per 100,000, is double the national average according to the most recent annual report of the Alaska Statewide Suicide Prevention Council. In much of rural Alaska it borders on an epidemic. The suicide rate among Alaska Natives is reported to be 40.4 per 100,000. (The 100,000 basis is applied in the numbers that follow.) For non-Native Alaskans, the number is 17.7. Natives living in large towns or cities have a suicide rate not much different than the general population, 25.8. But in villages it's 60. Among Native males between the ages of 20 and 29, the number is a horrifying 155.3.

Ward said that for the past year, St. Michael has been suicide-free. Whether her cranes had anything to do with that is anyone's guess. But the people in the village still remember the event fondly.

"The kids were really proud of themselves and their contribution," Fitka said. "It taught them to be compassionate when we've had a loss, to be caring and supportive.

"It was a very positive thing for that lady to do that for the community."

---

Reach Mike Dunham at mdunham@adn.com or 257-4332.

Copy/paste for the original article on the Anchorage Daily News Website:

http://www.adn.com/2012/08/16/2590884/st-michael-tragedy-fosters-a-new.html

Read more here: http://www.adn.com/2012/08/16/2590884/st-michael-tragedy-fosters-a-new.html#storylink=cpy

"One-Woman" Show

The newest performance of "1000 Cranes" opens in two weeks, (ack!) and I wanted to take this time to share some highlights from the creative process as we prepare to bring this work to the stage.*

To lay a foundation for the depth of this work, I should tell you that life in Alaska has been weighing heavily on me in recent years, partially because of the long stretches of cold and darkness, my tendencies towards overwork, and my noticeably thin (and sometimes absent) social support network. 

While my experience in St. Michael was amazing, it was also very difficult, and I found it a continual challenge to adapt to my new role as a voice in the conversation about suicide prevention. Much like a dip in the salt-laden waters of the Dead Sea bring painfully to bear even the tiniest of scratches, my own loneliness became virtually impossible to suppress following the "1000 Cranes" event. I came home from St. Michael to a flurry of press interviews, where I tried my best to glow with the hope that the story inspired. Out of the public eye, however, I was extremely depressed, and growing increasingly resentful of the widening disconnect between my public and private personas. At the end of the summer, following another painful personal event, I realized that even if I managed to weather Alaska's physical climate, the emotional landscape was simply too treacherous for me to withstand. It was around this time that I traveled to Oregon to visit family, and check out my dad's new farm. 

Forty acres of lush green countryside in the Willamette Valley, close to extended family, and only an hour outside of the eco-chic metropolis of Portland, it looked like a pastoral version of paradise, and I made the decision to spend one final year in Alaska and then head south to help out on the farm. The plan was for me to finish out my year teaching at the university, trade in my health insurance, my retirement benefits, pack up in June and drive down the AlCan, where I would spend the summer mending fences and bucking bales. To that end, I turned down all Alaskan summer employment offers, university or otherwise, confirmed with my landlord that I would be closing out my lease at the start of summer, and arranged to exit stage left and begin my new farming adventure.

Then came an offer to develop the story of "1000 Cranes" into a full length, one-woman show. Out North Contemporary Art Space championed the idea after my initial performance of the story, directed by Native Alaskan storyteller, Jack Dalton, which premiered in January at Out North's Under :30 series. They agreed to put the show on their calendar for mid-August and help find funding to keep me afloat, a gesture of faith that alone, still would not have been enough to delay my farm dreams. Enter Tami Lubitsh, theater director and clinical therapist from Tel Aviv, who met me at a coffee shop one afternoon and said "I want to make a safe space for you to let go. I don't know if anyone has done that for you here." 

Sold. The farm would have to wait. 

My last university paycheck arrived in May, the end of my lease arrived in June, and I held a garage sale to turn all my worldly possessions into cash for gas and food. I shoved what little was left into a tiny cargo trailer, moved the cat and I into our summer home, aka my jeep, and with Tami's guidance, began to write this show. 

Serendipity, the kindness of friends (big thanks Flash, Daniel, Jill, and Anne), a grant from the Alaska State Council on the Arts, and in-kind donation from the YWCA, have all validated my faith in this decision, and Tami and I have been able to spend countless hours creating, editing and rehearsing this new work. 

In a recent press release, I likened our creative process to that of climbing and belay, a tandem act of both risk and trust that goes a little something like this: Tami and I meet in the studio to rehearse a new section of the work. We inevitably get to a stuck spot andTami asks "why do you think that is?" then helps facilitate some epiphany about my own hang ups around connection or relationships or my childhood, etc. at which point I drive out into the wilderness, in the jeep, with the cat, for a day or two to process everything more deeply and revise the work, which sends me back to town to meet with Tami and try it all again. It's an incredible process, and one that is stretching me to reach beyond my own ideas of the limits of my creative potential. 

To say "I'm proud of" the show we've created would be more than false, it would seem trite. This show is my heart onstage in its purest form, tumbled and polished, poured and distilled. It incorporates theater, movement, recorded and live capture video, real-time social media, and music by Alaskan supergroup Pamyua to harness the essence of what it means to reach out and connect. It's fitting that I couldn't have made a show about connection without experiencing one, and if Tami is to be trusted, (I'd vouch for her), her prediction: "if we can bring just ten percent of this process to the stage, we've made something truly amazing" just might ring true. 

Come find out for yourself. "1000 Cranes" runs at Out North Aug. 17-18, 24-25 at 8pm. Tickets $25, available through Centertix. Pay-what-you-can preview will be 8pm Thurs. Aug 16. Sponsored by Out North, the Alaska State Council on the Arts and YWCA. Student discounts are available. Stay tuned to the facebook page "1000 Cranes for Alaska" to find out how you can pay it forward in your community and receive a special reduced rate.

Thank you to everyone who has become a part of this story, and I hope to see you in the audience in a couple of weeks.

*If you aren't already familiar with the story that launched this project, you can look to our first archived entry "Where this story began" and read along as our adventure unfolds, or check with the previous entry "1000 Cranes Recap and Update" to read the latest. 

1000 Cranes Recap and Update

I'm writing this blog entry to reconnect with my story as it pertains to suicide, and hopefully, to inspire a new wave of collective healing around this incredibly difficult issue. 

I am currently a teaching artist living in Alaska. I moved here after spending some years overseas, largely disconnected from my own support network and many markers of my personal identity (language, culture, etc.) Three months after I arrived here, my immediate supervisor commit suicide. It was the first suicide I had ever been close to, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I stayed in bed for three days. Since that time, each year, I have lost at least one friend, colleague, or student to suicide. I have lived in Alaska for nearly ten years. I struggle now with my own fear to connect meaningfully with the people in my community, painfully aware of the risk involved, the grief and dangerous apathy of exposure to continual loss. 

Last year, while teaching as an artist-in-residence in a small native village near the Bering Strait, I was part of a failed rescue attempt to save a young man who drowned in the lake beside our school. That night, out of my own feelings of helplessness, I began a project to fold 1000 origami cranes in a gesture of healing and support. I got the children involved right away, and through the network of social media, I included my students, friends, and family remotely, asking them to fold cranes with us then post their pictures and words of support to a facebook site I created called "1000 Cranes for Alaska". I promised to share the posts with the children of the village in the hopes that this would help cheer them up.

In less than three days, our story had gone global, and hundreds of people from as far away as Switzerland and Greece were sending pictures of cranes and words of hope. As we looked through the hundreds of posts, one of the children asked me "How do these people know who we are to care about us?" It was a huge "aha" moment for me, and I realized how powerful our collective gesture of healing had become. 

It is hard to describe the feelings of isolation I experience when I visit remote Alaska. The village of St. Michael has a population of 350, slightly larger than the last village I visited. Beyond a tiny cluster of weather-beaten homes there is only the vast expanse of nature as far as the eye can see. Mountains, tundra, swaths of frozen ocean; it is incredibly easy to feel like we are completely alone in the world.

When tragedy strikes here, as it often does, (without ready access to emergency medical care no less), everyone is deeply affected. Alcoholism, sexual and physical abuse, and sadly even the exploitation of native populations at the hands of abusive clergy, are ripping deep wounds into the fabric of humanity in rural Alaska, and suicide is a desperate escape for far too many.

In Anchorage, our largest city, the suicide rate is twice the national average, and in rural Alaska some villages are experiencing the tragedy of suicide at a rate seven times that of the rest of America. In St. Michael, pop. 350, three people commit suicide in the seven months just prior to my visit. Since folding our thousand cranes, (a project the children and I completed in just 4 days), this village has not experienced another suicide. St. Michael will be suicide free for a full year come June. 

I'd like to leave it there, with a tidy, happy ending, like in the movies. But my story continues, and it was not long in my own life before I found myself facing this terrible issue yet again. Six months after I returned home to Anchorage, my romantic partner attempted suicide, (thankfully unsuccessfully). On the heels of becoming a public face speaking against the riptide of senseless death, this last act hit a little too close to home, and despite everything I'd learned, I began isolating myself from those around me, wounded and fearful of human contact.

I know my fight to stop the hemorrhage of my community is far from over, and I have begun to process and transform my own experiences through the best avenue I know, my creativity. In addition to our cranes, which now hang on permanent display in the St. Michael school library, a live facebook page where visitors can fold cranes and share stories, and this weblog chronicling our story, I have created and performed a 30 minute piece about my experiences in St. Michael, utilizing movement, storytelling, music and video to share a unified message about hope and healing. 

I am now in the process of expanding this project into a one-woman show that, in addition to my story, explores the deeper issues of isolation and interdependence, grief and healing, social media and the transformative powers of inspired, collective art. I am working with a director who is also a clinical therapist and shares my vision of healing through the process of creating art. I have begun reaching out to friends and family, and support networks, such this one, for both personal and creative inspiration along my continued path of transformation. This new show is set to premiere at Out North Contemporary Art House in mid-August, and I am grateful to be discovering another chapter in our continually evolving story of "1000 Cranes for Alaska."

Ghost Ranch, New Mexico

During my recent trip to New Mexico, I was able to share the story of 1000 Cranes for Alaska with friends and colleagues gathered for an annual Alexander Technique retreat in the beautiful high deserts outside of Santa Fe. After a week of intense self deepening work, and many treks into the incredible natural landscape, my colleagues and I were well rehearsed in the benevolent practice of holding compassionate space for witnessing each other's transformations. It was at the tail end of this workshop when my teacher invited me to tell the story of our cranes. 

I realize that I have begun to develop a relationship with this story, with the tragedy that occurred in St. Michael, and the amazing collective outpouring of support that followed us during those first few raw and vulnerable days. What surprised me this time was just how much I continue to be moved by each new telling, feeling the emotion swell in me and watching it reflected back in the faces of those with whom I am sharing. 

This time was certainly no exception, and as I finished and looked around at the circle of tearful faces I had helped to create, my teacher quickly took up the calling and before I had a chance to even ask, everyone was on their feet, bringing over tables, spreading out origami paper and teaching each other how to fold paper cranes. 

Many of my Alexander colleagues are from Japan, from our sister schools in Tokyo and Kyoto. As you undoubtedly know, Japan is still reeling from their very own recent tragedy, and my Japanese friends seized this opportunity to engage in an activity of collective healing. I could see through their expressions that they were engaging in a deep level of resonance with the experience, and taking their own solace in the sensation of connecting to a greater whole. 

I saw and felt, once again, how transformative this simple act of folding and sharing one origami crane can be. After we finished folding, and took pictures for the website, one of my teachers said he "thinks we might really be on to something here." You know what? I think he might be right.

1000 Cranes is one month old!

I began this blog one month ago today. We are now five weeks from the tragedy that inspired the 1000 Cranes for Alaska project. 

Thursday night, I had dinner with Tina, my videographer friend who was with me during my residency in St. Michael. While she and I were busy catching up, I caught myself saying: "Truth be told, I wish I could quit all of my other jobs and just do this." It's a logistical impossibility to be sure, but this desire to be single minded, singly focused, is one I often wrestle with during my hectic life here in Anchorage. It is, in large part, what sends me running off to remote corners of the universe so frequently, in order that I might recharge and reboot.

Through my training as an Alexander Technique teacher, I have spent years noticing habits of use in my body that are no longer serving me. The study requires that students actively pursue an intense de-cluttering of their innate coordination in order to quiet the noise of our own nervous systems. By "tuning" our bodies so that they more closely resemble our original organization, (through a process my teacher likes to call "upgrading your software to match your hardware"), and by utilizing the hands on bodywork practices of the technique, Alexander teachers are able to "hear" the current "short circuits" of their clients'/students' nervous systems. Teachers then share this information, such that their students may begin to make informed use of it, and slough off habits that are no longer useful, or hindering ease of use in the body, perhaps causing chronic pain, even acute use-related injuries.  It has been a life-altering study, one which has opened the door to further explorations of several holistic methodologies, including Zen Buddhism and Native Science. 

However, in my day to day city life, I am consistently surrounded by large amounts of "static on the line" from any number of distraction-worthy sources: jobs, projects, acquaintances, debts, gossip, politics, overflowing laundry, you name it. I am constantly in motion from one place to the next, one job to the next, one task to the next, zooming past numerous piles of theoretical and physical clutter that pepper a hectic, sometimes harried, life. 

Anyone who knows me well, for instance, also knows that my car is a chronic mess on wheels,  a suburban gypsy cart, further evidence of my thither and yon existence. One single suitcase and a remote rural destination feels like freedom, and I am grateful for these much-needed clean slates. Each trip renews my spirit and helps remind me of who I am when I'm not reacting to a fire hose of chronic stimuli. Hardly three weeks back from St. Michael and the noise and clutter of my life has already begun to overwhelm me. Perhaps I am still readjusting, but either way, in just a few weeks, thankfully, I will be heading out into the painted deserts of Santa Fe, New Mexico, to a place called Ghost Ranch where Georgia O'Keefe used to live and paint. I know it doesn't make much sense geographically, but I am looking forward to this chance to feel closer to the spirit of the village, and back "home" to what feels like a more authentic version of myself. It seems that only in these quiet spaces can I also become quiet enough to hear what the universe, and all those who have come before me, have to teach me. These lessons arrive in whispers, in the form of inspired thoughts that come into my mind and are reflected in my surroundings, usually in the natural world. Every so often, as in the case of 1000 Cranes for Alaska, I share what I have learned with the people around me, such that they may be able to make use of the information. 

Speaking of which, 1000 Cranes for Alaska is continuing to create new ripples in our community. Yesterday, while rewarding my young theater students with some much-deserved time in the sunshine, I was approached by a representative of the Girl Scouts of Alaska, who will soon be joining our story. 

Last week I met with Kathy McCue from the Alaska Native Medical Center, and had the chance to tour their facility. I particularly enjoyed hearing about the forward thinking, holistic philosophies that were influential in the building's original design. The ANMC functions simultaneously as an incredible gallery space, chock full of some of the best Alaskan Native artwork our state has to offer. There is a tangible sense of community woven into the architecture and emanating from the staff. I am currently hard at work on a poster design for 1000 Cranes that will hang in the ER alongside a station for people to make cranes and join our effort. These cranes will also be on display in the ER, a healing reminder of the care taken on behalf of loved ones, here and beyond.

Our 1000 Cranes for Alaska facebook page has seen some fresh activity thanks to the generous efforts of Viva Voom Brr-lesque, a beloved, local burlesque and variety review. I have worked with this outstanding troupe for a number of years, and in our most recent show, Kamala Derry Stiner, the group's founder and emcee, (stage name: "Lola Pistola"), asked me to speak to the audience about the project. The audience was incredibly receptive, especially considering the fairly serious tone of the announcement in an otherwise raucously entertaining show. I provided crane folding instructions and origami paper for the patrons, and new cranes have begun to pop up once again on our page.

The Boys and Girls Club of Eagle River also joined our story, thanks to Viva Voom hostess, Jennifer Brown.

And just this weekend at the local concert of renowned singer/songwriter Brandi Carlile, my videographer, Tina Scott, had concert patrons folding cranes to pass the time while they waited in line for the start of the show.

This weekend I attended our local Anchorage Saturday Market, and stopped by the booth for The Snowy Owl, a small business owned and operated by UAA theater student, Chloe Akers. Chloe handcrafts fur baby booties and other adorable tiny fur products. She also provides origami paper and a copy of the story of 1000 Cranes at her booth to both educate her largely out of state customer base with regard to the suicide crisis in our state, and offer them a way to get involved during their brief visits.  

Outstanding efforts such as Jennifer's, Tina's, Chloe's, and those of so many others have helped 1000 Cranes for Alaska reach a new recent milestone with over 500 "likes", or followers, to our facebook site. I am so proud to see the creative leadership of my many inspiring and enterprising friends who are making a measurable and continual impact in our growing community. 


In keeping with that theme, and to commemorate the one month anniversary of the weblog, I have included some of my favorite photos from our facebook site. Feel free to check out the rest and add to our campaign at http://on.fb.me/1000cranesforAK

 

Support from the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, UAA

Leslie,

I want to acknowledge the great service to community your 1,000 Cranes for Alaska Project represents.  Thank you for caring.  I’m certain the community of St. Michael benefited greatly from your artistic presence as well as from your compassion, and it is equally certain the entire State is benefiting from your vision and leadership.

Cheers, Kim

Kim M. Peterson, Ph.D.

Interim Dean

College of Arts and Sciences

University of Alaska Anchorage

********************************************************************************************

Kim, 

Thank you so much for your kind words of support. This has truly been a transformative experience for me, and I am continually blown away by the evolving community response to my small gesture. I have made lifelong friends in the village of St. Michael, and learned firsthand how effective the arts can be in mobilizing our collective compassion and putting it to use in our community. Thank you for the opportunity, through my work at the university, to earn a living in my discipline, thereby keeping the arts at the center of my own life. 

All the best,

Leslie Kimiko Ward

UAA Department of Theater and Dance

1000 Cranes in The Northern Light

Hope soars high in St. Michael

By Heather Hamilton | 28 June 2011
Tags: 1000 cranes, death, rural village, st. michael, tradition, tragedy

When tragedy falls, more than families suffer. The officials trying to maintain order suffer, the volunteers trying to save lives suffer, neighbors suffer and even the bystanders suffer sorrow, and need a release for their grief.

Robert Prince, a 23-year-old man visiting his mother in St. Michael, Alaska died in a snowmachining accident on Saturday, June 11 while attempting to skip the machine across a lake back to the village. A good portion of the village turned out to try and save him after his machine stalled and he sank beneath the surface. After nearly an hour of dredging the pond, his body was recovered.

“Everybody started trying to dredge the pond,” said Leslie Ward, a UAA Dance professor, “Then all of a sudden, the whole crowd just erupted in screams, and people were falling on top of each other, and waving their arms in front of their faces. You could tell that they’d found him, and that it was not good.”

Ward was in St. Michael for two weeks as part of an artist residence through the Artists in Schools program, during which she taught dance and drumming to the children at Anthony A. Andrews School. One week in, she bore witness to the village’s efforts to save Prince, along with many others, including children at the school.

“Someone screamed to get the kids away from there, because there were kids gathered all around, including the students that I had by me, so I gathered up the kids that were by me, and called for some others and took them to the playground,” said Ward.

Deeply affected by the event and unsure how to cope, Ward began folding paper cranes that night to keep herself busy in an effort to keep her mind off of it. The folding of paper cranes has a special meaning to Ward; she grew up with the tradition of folding 1000 cranes and gifting them to others. In Japanese lore, if an individual folds 1000 paper cranes, they are granted a wish; it is common practice to fold 1000 cranes and gift them to others in an expression of your wish for them, whether it be to gain health, have a happy marriage or celebrate a birthday.

Megan Stuppy, a special education teacher at Anthony A. Andrews School, expressed concern to Ward of a possible suicide in the wake of the tragedy. According to Stuppy, the village of roughly 400 had already lost three citizens to suicide that year, and two village elders had died as well.

“I started worrying about the people who didn’t have someone to remind them of their value to the world. I conveyed this to Leslie who almost immediately knew she needed to do something,” said Stuppy.

Stuppy’s worry stemmed from the fact that, in the village, almost everyone is related to one another in one form or another. Her own boyfriend is the deceased’s uncle, who took the death of his nephew especially hard.

It was then that Ward decided to turn her small method of coping into something larger for the entire village of St. Michael. She taught her students how told fold cranes, and created a Facebook page dedicated to the project, where anyone could post a picture of themselves holding a paper crane in support. In her blog Ward writes that the project isn’t about creating something “epic,” but that it is about busying oneself while grieving until you realize that, through this thing, you “begin living again.”

“My hope for the “1000 Cranes for Alaska” project is that it offers up one such tiny opportunity, and before you know it, you’re plugged in to an instant and growing network of support and creative inspiration,” said Ward.

Since its start on Sunday, June 12, the Facebook page (called “1000 Cranes for Alaska) has amassed 363 “likes,” and has had its Wall peppered with pictures of handmade paper cranes from around the state and country. It continues to grow daily.

Locally, in St. Michael, Ward and her students performed dance and drumming in front of a large collection of community members on Thursday, June 16, as had been planned before the events that led to the grassroots “suicide prevention” movement. At the end, Ward explained the project she and her students had taken on, and presented the 1000 cranes (which had been completed on Wednesday, June 15) to the audience. Children held strings of cranes proudly in their hands as they walked from the back of the room, and the audience cried.

“They came into the gym where we were holding the show and you could see it on their faces that they were so proud of what they’d done,” Ward said, “They faced the audience, and everybody just cried harder…It think it was something that was very healing for the community just to see the image of the kids and their efforts.”

The mother of the deceased was at her son’s funeral in Kotlik at the time of the presentation, and was unaware of the gesture her son’s death had inspired. The cranes will be on display in the school however, so that students and teachers returning in the fall will have a reminder that they can make a difference.

But the movement didn’t stop when the performance was over; some are still keeping it alive. According to Ward, Chloe Akers, a UAA student who recently started her own business crafting products for children, will be hosting the 1000 Cranes for Alaska project at her booth for upcoming Saturday markets (July 2, 9, 16 and 23). Her business’s name is The Snowy Owl.

Stuppy is also dedicated to keeping the movement going. “At the beginning of the school year, we’ll have an assembly to share with the entire school what we did this summer. We’ll discuss the story of the 1000 cranes, and we will make a plan as a school to continue folding cranes when members of the community need them. It won’t stop here; I won’t let that happen.”