For the moment, this blog is more of a goal than a reality. The idea has been in my head for months now. It has nothing to do with Sarah Palin, other than that her town and mine are the same. As time allows, I will refine this first section and then begin to add on.
My youngest son, Rex, made this sailboat over the summer. He lives with his wife in Anchorage now, but when he was little, this place, Memory Lake, is where he learned to fish. Back in those days, we used a canoe. The boat is not ready to sail, yet, but he brought it home to Wasilla to do a float test.
Rex and Stephanie, his wife, float in the boat. As to the title above, "Shooting with just my left hand..." on June 12, I took a bad fall, shattered my right shoulder and then it had to be replaced. Afterward, my children gave me a tiny point and shoot camera, a Canon Powershot G9, to replace my big, heavy, professional Canons. It is a tiny camera that I can carry in my shirt pocket and manipulate with just my left hand...
...although I have not been able to do my work as a professional photographer this entire summer, I have shot the world around me, every day, shooting this little camera with just my left hand. After Rex's float test, I shot the little pool of water in the boat. Rex still had some work to do.
For the "injured series," my plan is to work backwards, until I reach June 12. Even as I do so, I will include new material as well. Here is Rex after his float test, holding his rudder. He was pleased with the result.
Memory Lake. Not so long ago, this is how all of Wasilla, a small town that covers an enormous area, used to be. Not any more.
Even though I have no statistics to back me up, I confidently state that Wasilla has more of these coffee kiosks per capita than does any other place in the world. This is Amy, at Little Miller's. They make great soft ice cream cones, as well.
Wasilla had no more beautiful lake than Wasilla Lake itself, but one day a big box store called Fred Meyer's decided the lake shore would be a great place to buid a big box and the city council and the mayor all thought it would be great to collect the taxes that box would bring into city coffers, so down went the trees and up went Fred Meyer's. It came with a huge parking lot that drains into the lake.
Several other stores popped up on the lot, like Carl's Jr., KFC, and Pet Zoo. When Fred first opened, I refused to shop there. But now I do. On the very day that I took this picture of Carl's Jr. I bought an "Original Six-dollar Burger" there. It was really good. I buy lots of stuff for my cats and fish at Pet Zoo.
Here I am, driving to Wal-Mart, less than two miles down the highway from the new Target, which sits just across the street from Fred Meyer's. These ladies, members of a Russia based faith that I don't know much about, had daschund puppies. I wanted to stop and see the puppies, pat them on the head and take some pictures, but when I do drive-by pictures, I drive by. That is the rule. If they had had kittens, I would have stopped. Cats and kittens are the exception to the rule.
Here we are at home, watching hometown dynamo Sarah Palin on the TV. She recalled her role with the Bridge to Nowhere quite differently than I do.
Serendipty, in the morning. This used to be my woods. Many were the hours I spent in these woods - everyday when I was home I traveled through them on foot, on skis, and mountain bike. They were my sanctuary. Now this road is here, and the subdivision they call Serendipity.
Serendipity.
Serendipity.
Serendipity. About 100 yards from here, when it was all just hills and woods, the dog Willow and I once happened upon a black bear, a big one, blocking the trail in front of us. "Willow, get behind me!" I ordered. I was worried that she might do something stupid, and get that bear mad at us, but she fell in right behind me. She stayed right on my heels as I ventured off the trail gave that bear a wide berth. It clambered up a huge, old, spruce, growling and snarling all the way.
This is how I used to live, until I crashed my damned airplane. I took that airplane all over mainland Alaska, and into Canada's Yukon and Northwest Territories. Sometimes, I would be gone for months. Then I would come home, fly over a high ridge of the Talkeetna Mountains, drop down into the valley, aim at the pond and march behind our house, pull the throttle all the way back to idle, dive down over that marsh until my wings came to tree top level and then I shove the throttle forward and that airplane would roar and I would climb in a spiral over my house.
I love trains. When I was a kid in Montana, I used to hop on them and ride them around. I love the Alaska Railroad. I have never ridden on it, not once. Whenever I see the train, though, I take a picture of it. I was in the car, my wife driving, when I took this one.
On the way to Taco Bell, where the food is exquisite - but not as good as Jalepeno's. You can eat it in the car, though. At Jalepeno's, you have to go inside and sit at a table. The tables and chairs are from Mexico and are colorful and bright. I like them. Sooner or later, they will show up in this blog
Every now and then, these brush trimmers come take down anything at the side of the road that might one day grow up to meet the electrical wires. They take down anything in their path, including Christmas trees and political signs.
There he goes.
See? A very short time ago, this huge patch of land was all covered in trees. Now the trees are gone. This is happening everywhere in Wasilla. I love Wasilla, but sometimes it seems that too many people here have no comprehension of the magnificent, wonderful, beautiful place where they are so fortunate to live.
Not as fortunate as we used to be, but still fortunate.
Lots of dogs in Wasilla. I meet them all the time when I am walking. Through my alter-ego, Grahamn Kracker, I am better known for photographing cats than dogs, but the truth is, I photograph more dogs than cats. That is because dogs are everywhere, always making their presence known.
It is a special thing to happen upon a cat.
I come upon dogs when I am in the car, and they are in the car next to me.
I even come upon dogs in the store. This is at Pet Zoo. The dog is welcome there, but first it must don a muzzle, not because it would bite anyone, but there are lots of interesting things in that store that a dog might like to sink its teeth into.
Flowers at the Wasilla Public Library.
Serendipity flowers.
This is my wife, Margie, and our grandson, Kalib, walking through Serendipity. When Kalib's father was a boy, I would take him walking through Serendipity. It was way different then. Sometimes, he carried a rifle and I showed him how to shoot it.
A mushroom in my front yard.
As my wife drives by the park that sits next to City Hall.
As I wait inline at still another coffee shop. I recognize the kids behind me. I have photographed them at the Wednesday Farmer's Market. Their father migrated from Russia, then brought their mother up from somewhere in Latin America. Guatemala, I think, but I could be wrong. I will ask them next time I see them.
The father and his sons.
At the State Fair, in Palmer, Wasilla's sister city, 12 miles from our house. Labor Day was the last day. When the fair ends, we know summer is over.
Now it is fall.