On the way to Nantucket: Sights I saw as I walked through Revere, looking for a cat

"Write us a story about a cat, Dad," Lisa demanded, many years ago, as I was preparing to climb into my little airplane and take off on one of my trips into Northern Alaska. So I did. Not long after that, I happened upon a cat out in Rural Alaska and so I photographed it. After I returned home and developed my film, I scanned an image of the cat into my computer and then called the girls into the office so that I could show them this cat, and tell them what I had learned about it.

Ever since, I have tried to photograph a cat or two or three wherever I travel to. I am in Nantucket now, and will certainly find cats to photograph here. Before I boarded the airplane from Boston to here, I took a walk in Revere where I had overnighted, right near the Boston Logan International Airport, to see if I might happen upon a cat.

At the very moment that I stepped out of the hotel, before I had even adjusted the settings on my camera for daylight or even taken it out of my pocked, I saw this hearse passing by, with a casket in the back and a procession of mourners following.

Someone - man, woman, Elder, youth... I had no way to know... had finished this life's journey.

A short distance beyond, I saw these two, zooming by.

I stepped into a residential neighborhood, thinking that if I walked long enough I would see a cat sitting on a doorstep, walking across a yard or looking out a window. Soon, I came upon these two professional yard keepers, raking someone's yard.

Just beyond the rakers, I saw a man pick up a green tennis ball. "Is this your ball?" he asked a lady who was standing in an open doorway alongside a little dog. 

"Yes," she answered, although I suspected the ball belonged to the dog and not the lady,

So the man carried the ball up the steps, handed it to the lady and then turned around walked to the car with the American flag license plate.

"Thank you, Joe," the lady said.

"You're welcome," Joe responded.

Then I came upon this house. You simply do not see houses like this in Wasilla, or anywhere near Wasilla. So it was an interesting sight. I wondered what kind of things had happened inside. Surely, many cats must have lived in this house.

Perhaps cats live in there right now, but I was looking while walking and was not going to knock upon doors.

Not far from the house, I came upon children, frolicking in a school playground.

And then came these middle school students, walking with a woman who appeared to be a teacher.

Soon, I saw a woman on the other side of the street wearing a headset, raking a lawn. "Maybe she has a cat," I surmised to myself. So I crossed the street and walked up to her, but she did not see me coming because she was concentrating on her raking. She did not hear me coming, because of the headset.

Suddenly, she saw me and was so startled she damn near fell over from fright.

"Do you have a cat?" I asked after she regained her composure.

"No," she said. "I have a dog."

Her name was Brenda and she was very friendly and we talked for awhile. She was amazed to learn that I am from Alaska and asked me what I thought of this place.

I told her that it appeared to be a very pleasant and peaceful neighborhood.

Yes, she agreed, she had once moved just five minutes away, but it was not so pleasant and peaceful there. It was noisy, lots of traffic. So she had moved here, back to peace and quiet.

Then I saw a squirrel running across the ledge of wall. But it was not a real squirrel at all, and it was going nowhere but the spot it was in.

I came upon a memorial for Sgt. Bellofatto, "American Hero." I wondered who Bellofatto was, where he had fought, how he had died and if maybe that was his house in the background. I googled his name, but did not find the answer to my questions.

Next, I came upon a place of worship.

And then a postman, delivering mail.

I saw this gentleman delivering heating fuel to a house where a shrine stood in the yard.

I found a park where people go to be amused.

Someone had lost a shoe. I wondered how such a thing happens.

I spotted a man, walking in front of me.

I came upon a protestation of war.

Next, I came upon this flag. It hurt to see it like this.

I did not know what to do with the flag, but I could not leave it lying there. I am a patriotic, left-leaning, liberal American who dearly loves his country and it's flag, so I had to do something, but I was in no position to do a proper disposal. I picked up the flag and began to walk in the hope that the answer might come to me.

Then I came to this tree, in front of this bar, with the cleaner but wind-frayed flag at left tucked into the wires to some Christmas lights. So I tucked the old, battered, in next to it in the hope that the bar owner would see it and give it the respect it deserves.

A bit further beyond, I found these flags flying.

It was time to go to the airport, so I went back to the hotel and found my shuttle driver, watching President Obama talking about the health care bill.

It seems some ugly, un-American hateful acts have been happening in America since the House first passed the act.

I know that there must be plenty of good cats in Revere, but I did not happen upon a single one.

I apologize that this post is coming up so late. I actually sat down to do it late last night in plenty of time to have it appear at the usual time. Squarespace is the cause. My bloghost. The creators of the worst, most troublesome piece of software that I have ever encountered since I began to use computers in the mid-1980's. If any readers are thinking of starting up a new blog and see mine and are tempted to go with Squarespace, I suggest that you reconsider - especially if your blog will be photo-oriented.

As established as I am at this address in the search engines with all kinds of links all over the place, the day is coming and soon when I am going to have to find the time, make the leap, lose half my readers and all my links to start over again somewhere else.

Squarespace is just horrible.

Horrible, horrible, horrible. It is a time waster. I am fed up with Squarespace.

Flying to Nantucket, the first leg: Anchorage to Nantucket

 

On the first leg of my flight to Nantucket, I found myself in a middle "E" seat, enroute from Anchorage to Minneapolis. To my right, in the window seat, sat this very attractive young woman, who engaged herself in the task of photographing the right wing of the airplane.

The fellow directly in front of me laid his head back and listened to whatever was playing on his Bose headset.

The lady to my left read a book.

A young woman behind and to the right took a nap.

And behind me were these people. As you can see, I did not get a chance to get a haircut and beard trim before I left. I will have to find a place in Nantucket and get it done there.

The stewardesses came, pushing a cart with soft drinks, coffee and snacks, but no substantial food.

From time to time, I heard the squeals of a baby. It turned out to be this character. Not once did I hear this baby cry. The sounds of its squeals made me think of Jobe - and even of Kalib, not that long ago.

At one point, the lady reading the book got up and went wandering about the plane. Then I could clearly see the people across the aisle, which included this couple originally from Hyderabad, India. They have a son who lives in Anchorage.

The lavatories were just ahead of the third row in front of me, so I could smell the chemicals all the way. A couple stood, arm in arm, waiting.

"Cookies or peanuts?" the stewardess shouted out to the gentleman in front of me. Then she cupped her ears to listen for his answer.

"Peanuts," he answered.

Here we are, landing in Minneapolis. I believe this is a channel of the Mississippi.

I stepped out of the plane and found this dog, Sampson.

Before boarding the next flight to Boston, I bought myself a burrito. A pilot came in and ate lunch nearby.

I did not get my shoes shined, because they are shoes that were not made to shine. 

Kalib bonks Mom and Grandma on the head; horses run to Ron; Margie and Jobe

As I leave for Boston, enroute to Nantucket, early Wednesday morning, I had told myself that I would put only one picture in this blog tonight, and write no more than two or three sentences.

But I did not know that Kalib and Jobe were going to drive out with their good mom so that they could see me before I left.

I was conducting a phone interview when Margie came in to tell me they were here and I had to shoo her off. I was talking through an almost invisible headset, so she did not know I was on the phone and kept talking to me even as the person I was interviewing was answering my questions and I was trying to type them down.

When I finished the interview, I came into the house and this is what I found: Kalib, about to bonk his grandma on the head as his mother fed his little brother.

Then he bonked his mom on the head. Thank goodness, he didn't try to bonk Royce.

Next, he bonked himself. He did not try to bonk me. I felt a little left out.

At 4:00 PM, I took Lavina and Kalib to Metro and then we sipped our drinks as we took the long way home and drove past the Mahoney Ranch horses. As you can see, the horses were on the run.

We drove down to the end of Sunrise, turned around and drove back and there we saw Ron Mancil, in the midst of the horses that he had just fed.

As I drove along this road, I thought how quickly I will be in a totally different kind of environment. I am always eager to travel and to see new places and meet new people, but at the same time I always hate to leave home, too.

Margie and Jobe.

At this time tomorrow, I hope to be sound asleep in Massachusetts. 

I'm such an insomniac that I can't guarantee it.

Or I might be working on this blog, posting pictures from my travels.

Now, I must finish packing and then go to bed.

Thanks to Furless Jim, Royce eats raw meat

This morning, I put Royce through the usual routine. I rubbed his thyroid medicine into his ear, then prepared a mix of Friskie's Salmon Senior Blend and Metamucil. Royce dug in.

Shortly afterward, I received an email from Jim Earnshaw, Charlie's dad - now better known to the world as Furless Jim.

He informed me that he had prepared some homemade, raw-meat cat food just for Royce and asked if we were going to be home.

I wrote back to tell him that we would be home, but suggested that rather than drive all the way out here, Margie could pick up the cat food Wednesday morning, after she drops me off at the airport.

About 45 minutes later, I was sitting here, in my office, working at this computer, when I heard Margie knock upon my wall. This is her signal for me to come into the house, so I did and this is what I found.

Royce was wolfing... cougaring... down the homemade raw meat cat food like a ravenous lion. I had never saw him go at food with such tremendous enthusiasm, yet he has always been an enthusiastic eater.

It will be interesting to see if he gains any weight while I am gone.

Even if he doesn't, Furless Jim said, he will enjoy himself and will experience improved quality of life.

Royce and his benefactors, Furless Jim and Charlie. Thank you both.

The cats and I watch health care pass; Charlie's parents stop by for a visit

I am too tired to write ANYTHING - but I will try to write a little bit, anyway. The thing is, I got to bed somewhere between 1:30 and 2:00 AM and then, as always, it took some time for me to go to sleep and no sooner had I then I was awakened... oh hell.

I am too tired to tell this story about why I am so tired.

But I am.

I had planned to work very hard today and to get a huge amount done, but I didn't. Mostly because I got distracted by the debate leading up to the House passage of the Health Care Bill. Once I took in one scene, I was so fascinated by the process that I could not pull myself away from the TV.

And as I watched, there was always between one and three cats blanketing me, so I was warm, cozy, comfy and drowzy as I watched the debate.

I did not try to photograph the scene until near the end, when Nancy Pelosi was speaking.

Many Republicans said they could not support this flawed bill and it is flawed, but, it's a start to hopefully fix a far more flawed system.

As many readers know, my health care insurance company took my premiums for 15 years and, despite their promise when I bought my insurance that they would cover an air ambulance out of rural Alaska if I ever needed one, refused to pay any of the $37,000 + when I shattered my shoulder and actually did need one, and then didn't pay tens upon tens of thousands of dollars of my hospital bill and then recently jacked up my "cadillac" priced premiums for clunker service by 20 percent overnight.

This followed a long process of regular increases and then, in December, I could not make my payment and they deactivated my policy immediately.

If I had been able to make two payments in January, they would have reactivated, but I couldn't make even one.

I am very glad that, however flawed it might be, the process has finally begun. 

As I am too tired to say anything intelligent about this myself, I will quote Paul Krugman from the New York Times:

"But it is also a victory for America’s soul. In the end, a vicious, unprincipled fear offensive failed to block reform. This time, fear struck out."

Senator Murkowski, this is why I am so disappointed in you. You have the intelligence and the natural compassion and you said some things a year or so ago that told me that you understood the damage that this current system is wreaking upon people.

I understand that you need to listen to your constituents, but when you hear them spouting nonsense and fear, you also have a responsibility to educate them. Instead, you joined in with the mob in this "vicious, unprincipled, fear offensive."

This is why I am disappointed.

You might find it unfair that I am not equally disappointed in Don Young. But Don Young is Don Young and we all knew from the beginning that on this matter nothing more could be expected of him.

But you, Senator Murkowski, are capable of so much more.

Of course, the day did not begin in front of the TV. It began at Mat-Su Valley Restaurant, where Margie and I got together with Lisa, Melanie and Charlie and Charlie bought breakfast for the lot of us. They were a little late, but soon Charlie's parents joined us as well.

It was the first time that we had all gotten together like this.

Yes, I took pictures of Charlie's parents at breakfast, but I want to get this blog done so that I can go to bed, so I will move straight to the house, where the important stuff happened.

It all involved cats.

Here is Jim, accepting a pet from Jim.

Yes, Charlie's dad is also Jim.

Charlie's dad is the furless Jim.

Here is Jim meeting Royce.

And here is Cyndy meeting Royce. Jim, the furless one, told us how their 16 year old Siamese cat Oscar suffered ill health about a year ago and lost weight just like Royce has. Furless Jim has a super-sensitive nose and it told him there was bad stuff in the store-bought dry cat food Oscar had been eating.

So Jim put Oscar on a raw-meat diet with a quarter can a day of Friskees and now Oscar has made a magnificent recovery.

We must try this with Royce - after I return from the East Coast.

Cyndy and Royce.

Furless Jim also told us how he and Charlie had once come upon some cougars in the mountains of Wyoming, where they had been hunting deer not far from the town of Atlantic City. Yes, Atlantic City, Wyoming.

He had been entranced by the quiet, graceful, beautiful, fluidity of their motions as the lions hustled silently past.

Charlie was pretty young then. His dad was carrying all the guns: a 30.06 rifle and .22 pistol.

Charlie asked if he could carry the .22 after that.

It's funny. I am always happy to be in Alaska, but after I heard that story, I wanted to go roam around somewhere where cougars hang out and see if I could find some.

Cougars don't really hang out in Alaska, although one was spotted on our side of the Canadian boundary not too many years ago.

Charlie and Jim - the furry one.

Furless Jim and Pistol, who warily came to check him out, but quickly warmed up to him and gave him maybe ten seconds of attention.

Look closely at Pistol and you will see that he is very much a little mountain lion himself.

It occurs to me that Furless Jim's face does not really show in the photos with the cats, so I will hop back to the restaurant take real fast, so that you can see his face.

If I am going to show the face of Furless Jim, then it is only fair that I also show the face of Furry Jim.