I lived in Anchorage when Mt. Spurr erupted in ’53. While I was batting tennis balls against the backboard at the tennis court on the Park Strip, I noticed a large, black cloud coming at me from the southwest. As it began passing overhead, I was getting covered in ash. Hopping on my WWII Columbia bicycle, I began pedaling towards our home on East 15th Avenue at Gamble. By the time I arrived, I was covered in ash and coughing from breathing it in. What a mess – streets, cars, houses, all covered in a thick layer of pumice. Shortly after that, my folks purchased acreage on Rabbit Creek Road from the Prators, and when we began construction of their home up there, we found about a six inch layer of ash under the new moss. A memorable event that now, at age 83, I still remember vividly. g