A career tugboat captain guiding vessels in Alaskan waters, Dan Hannan’s demeanor matches his job: straightforward, cheerful, with a persistent get-it-done attitude. When he retired two years ago, for the first time in decades he found himself staring down time instead of water. . . .
From an apartment in Maple Leaf, Audrey Reuter steals an hour in the quiet of her newborn’s nap. Fresh faced and sacrificial tired, she sits in front of a window with a leafless winter tree behind, rosy cheeks a telltale sign of a household kept warm, the way you do when you have an infant. Today is a stop-shutter moment filled with love and a great sense of duty, vulnerability even. . . .
This past year, nurses, who day-in-day-out tread quietly at patients’ bedsides somewhat unnoticed, find themselves suddenly very visible during the pandemic. Typically, because we want them to be unobtrusively present in our illness, they are at their unassuming best when delivering critical care that, in some other years, may have gone unnoticed. Ross Dawson is one of those nurses. . . .
Gary dos Santos carries himself like a good-natured little league coach. Comfortably in his forties with a career in biotechnology, house in Ballard, and a family (his grey zip-up hoodie with logo that reads “St. Benedict School” is a dead giveaway). He stuffs his hands deep into his pockets to ward off the chill morning air because Dads are known to bravely underdress for the weather. . . .
Gary dos Santos carries himself like a good-natured little league coach. Comfortably in his forties with a career in biotechnology, house in Ballard, and a family (his grey zip-up hoodie with logo that reads “St. Benedict School” is a dead giveaway). He stuffs his hands deep into his pockets to ward off the chill morning air because Dads are known to bravely underdress for the weather. . . . .
This past year, nurses, who day-in-day-out tread quietly at patients’ bedsides somewhat unnoticed, find themselves suddenly very visible during the pandemic. Typically, because we want them to be unobtrusively present in our illness, they are at their unassuming best when delivering critical care that, in some other years, may have gone unnoticed. Ross Dawson is one of those nurses. . . .
From an apartment in Maple Leaf, Audrey Reuter steals an hour in the quiet of her newborn’s nap. Fresh faced and sacrificial tired, she sits in front of a window with a leafless winter tree behind, rosy cheeks a telltale sign of a household kept warm, the way you do when you have an infant. Today is a stop-shutter moment filled with love and a great sense of duty, vulnerability even. . . .
A career tugboat captain guiding vessels in Alaskan waters, Dan Hannan’s demeanor matches his job: straightforward, cheerful, with a persistent get-it-done attitude. When he retired two years ago, for the first time in decades he found himself staring down time instead of water. . . .