It was a beautiful fall day, sunny, the air crisp. I came home immediately after going to the Lion’s Club midday meeting, rather than go to the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel.

I rode Raudi and then Hrimmi. The grass is getting less appealing – bet it tastes like greens left in the refrigerator too long, so they are eating a bit less of it. The watermelon berries and the wild rose hips are now soft and soggy, but the high bush cranberries are in their prime.

I did not get a chance to ride Tyra although I got the dogs out for a walk. I also didn’t get a chance to pick raspberries.

Headed back to the hotel because we had an evening group doing volunteer work. There were nine young women altogether. We also got to meet Stephanie and her two children, up from Kenai – they spent the entire evening talking with us and selecting books.

Steve and Robert check out the tricycle bicycle

Right before they all got there, I sorted the 15 boxes of books that Pete and Robert picked up at Vera’s. Lots of hard covered books. We were putting a dent in what we had, but it has been quickly smoothed out.

As I was cleaning up, Pam said that Steve Williams had been murdered. Steve, 22, was one of the hotel residents. He was working at the Speedway Gas Station – someone who he’d had an altercation with came in and shot him – 22 times.

I am still in a state of disbelief. I didn’t know Steve really well, but I did know him. He was the one who rode the tricycle bicycle in the fair parade last year. We gave him a Bright Lights tee shirt. He wore it long and hard. After a while, it stank.

Early on, he had a strong interest in survival books. He wanted to teach survival classes. The last I heard, he was working at Taco Bell.

He came in a few times with his girlfriend, and she picked out a book on astrology. She came back and wanted wolf books. She dressed in black and had a lot of piercings.

Now, apparently, the argument the person that had with Steve had something to do with this woman. I suspect that hotel dirt being what it is, more as to what happened will surface in the next two days.

There is what I call an underlife in most places, and Palmer is no exception. These sort of things happen to those who work in gas stations and fast food joints.

Alaska doesn’t have death penalty. This man will get a life sentence and no parole. Now he’s going to spend the rest of his life being supported by taxpayers. Does this mean I think he should be executed? No, rather this is just another instance of a societal ill that needs to be addressed.

What stuns me is the suddenness of Steve’s death. One day he’s here and the next he’s gone. A young life snuffed out like a candle, just like that. Prior to his death, he was probably thinking about what he’d be doing in the next few days. Or maybe he had an inkling that his time was near. Well, we are never going to know what he thought. What a tragedy.

Next: 240. 9/4/24: Fall Colors