Jennie Thlunaut’s hands weaving closing up the black braids to the eye – May 1986

As we weave the fabric of our lives, working hard through all the days

Mixing colors into twine, cedar too for warp that’s mine

Our hands do hurt but I won’t complain; my students here I’m going to train

To be a weaver of the robe, that people know over all the globe

Our work we do for time will stand, side by side from my ancestor’s land

Their hands I see when I close my eyes; heads of grey, hands wrinkled and wise

Their training I feel all through these days, now I pass it on in so many ways

What I teach I hope and pray, they will learn and weave will stay

Long past my last earth day

My Grandchildren’s Grandchildren I hope will say

This robe I weave is from my land, taught to me by someone Grand

Our story goes on and we prevail; I’m here to tell you a weaver’s tale.

Written by Wayne Price in honor of our weaving tour visit in Haines, Alaska three weeks prior and in memory of our weaving mentor, the late Jennie Thlunaut – written 18 August 2013

Wayne Price wears the “Diving Whale Lovebirds” Chilkat robe recently woven by Clarissa Rizal – June 2013 – weavers Cherish Clarke, Sherri Atlin, and Georgianna Low are standing behind Clarissa and Wayne at the Adaka Festival photo shoot – photo by Ken Kaunshansky