Two boys, Navajo tacos almost, a future unforetold

Gideon and Vincent Mahoney, who I met at Abby's Home Cooking last night. I went because I learned that her special was going to be Navajo tacos. Now, several times in Alaska, including at the state fair and even at powwows, I have seen people advertising Navajo tacos and everytime that I have taken a chance and tried it, I have been disappointed, because I get to eat the real thing on a regular basis, except that sometimes, if Margie makes them, they are Apache Tacos.

When Lavina makes them, they are Navajo tacos. Sometimes, they make them together and then they are Navapache tacos, or perhaps Apachavajo tacos.

Either way, they are pretty much the same thing and they are superb.

But I have never bought a single food item in Alaska labeled as "Navajo Tacos" that has even approached the real thing. It is always a disappointment.

I love Abby's cooking and decided to give hers a chance.

What she served was very good... excellent even- shredded beef and black beans with cheese, tomatoes, onions and salsa on frybread that is a little heavier than Navajo-Apache frybread... but it was different than Navajo tacos.

Margie is not here right now. As is so often the case these days, she is in town helping Lavina with baby Lynxton and the boys, but I talked to her on the phone last night and she agreed... we are going to either invite Abby to dinner over here or go over there and then Margie or Lavina or Margie and Lavina will fix the real thing and show her just how to do it.

Abby is in favor of the idea.

As for these boys, Abby's nephews, Vincent told me that he had been somewhere, I forget just where, Big Lake, I think, with hamburgers being served, if I remember right, and a newspaper photographer had taken his picture. He quoted what the paper had written to go with the picture, word for word, it sounded like.

Pretty smart kid.

Vincent also talked about how fun it is to play with fortune tellers, one of which said he would be going to Disneyworld soon, and sure enough, six months later he went to Disneyworld.

I was not quite certain what he meant by "fortune tellers," so he got a sheet of paper and folded it up into an intricate design with many four-sided faces and, when manipulated, one never knows which face it will open up on. Whatever is written on the face that opens, that is the foretold fortune.

He demonstated, opening and closing the thing so that it looked like little jaws biting into the air.

Then he stopped, handed it to me, and said I could keep it.

Nothing was written anywhere. The face meant to tell my fortune was blank - all the faces were blank. It looked like I had no future at all.

But that was last night, when today was the future.

Here it is today, the future, and I am still here. 

I am still in one picture a day mode. I tried to keep this at one, too, but after I finished I realized I really had to show the fortune teller. Truly, I don't have time to post two pictures... or to write more than one paragraph - two at the most.

I feel like I am destroying myself, posting two pictures, writing all these extra paragraphs, even as hell bears down upon me - but, I bet I will survive, just the same.

Those with whom I did not crash; I glimpse Lynx asleep; sharing breakfast apart

I am not a person who fears flying at all. Whenever I board a plane, I am solidly confident it will carry me to my destination safely. When we are in the air and suddenly find ourselves getting smacked around by turbulence that gives some passengers a big scare, to me it is just like being on a bumpy road - a bit uncomfortable but no big deal.

Yet, after I boarded the completely full Alaska Airlines flight that would carry me from Barrow to Anchorage and the jet took off, I suddenly found myself thinking that if by chance this proved to be one of those extremely rare flights that didn't make it and it crashed with 100 percent fatalities, all the people riding in this plane and I would die together.

It struck that we would then all share a very intimate experience. What would it be like? Would we be aware of it? Do we have spirits that would float about the site for awhile, those of us who are strangers to each other introducing ourselves for the first time, those of us who already know each other visiting and musing about what just happened? Would we be in mourning for those living that we had left behind? Rejoicing to meet those dead who had left us before?

I don't know. But it was kind of fun to think about, so I raised my camera over my head, pointed it behind me in such a way that I knew it would catch me too and took this picture of myself with my fellow passengers, so that, if we all died together, this moment could be remembered.

But we didn't die. We landed safely. Margie picked me up at the airport and then drove us to Jacob and Lavina's. Lynxton was now just over three weeks old and this was only the third day that I had seen him. Just like when I returned from New York, he was asleep.

The day of his birth is the only day that I have so far seen him awake.

I expect to see him Saturday.

Maybe he will be awake then.

Margie had been staying with Jacob and Lavina to help out, but now she came home with me and we brought Jobe with us. As usual, on my first morning home, we went out to breakfast, at Abby's Home Cooking.

Abby had the radio on, tuned to a local country station. She had the volume turned very low, so that one barely noticed the music as it played in the background. Basically, one song blended into the next, each almost indistinguishable from the other.

Then, I heard the opening notes to a familiar guitar riff - it was Johnny Cash, going into "I walk the Line." The volume remained low, but suddenly the song filled the restaurant. It grabbed me and held me. I was locked into every note, every word.

When Johnny, who I once spent an afternoon with, quit singing, the music once again fell into the background, hardly noticeable, one song indistinguishable from the next.

That's because Johnny Cash was genius - great - the other performers merely good.

When Margie and I have any of the boys with us, we iPhone pictures back and forth with Lavina and Jake, so they will know how whatever child is staying with us is doing at that moment.

So I took this iPhone pic of Jobe to send to them. 

"Cuteness!" Lavina texted back. Then she followed with a text informing me that Kalib was missing his grandma and wanted to see her.

So I had her wave at him and then sent this picture.

"He smiled," Lavina texted back.

Then she took a picture of baby Lynx with her own phone and texted it to us.

We looked at it.

We smiled.

We then finished eating breakfast, 50 miles apart together.

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A little boy watches a mouse; a little girl and a not-quite old homesteader; another licks the frosting

Last night, I was overwhelmed by sleepiness very early and so went to bed about 10:00 PM. In time, I fell asleep, sound asleep, it seemed. I woke up, thinking that hours had passed and that I had finally gotten a good rest.

But no. It was only 11:15 PM. Throughout the rest of the night, I mostly tossed and turned, forced sleeping cats to move from one spot to another and then back again. I slept very little.

Margie was sleeping in the guest room with Jobe, so that he would not fall out of bed.

Once Jobe got up, he sat down to watch Mickey Mouse.

He loves Mickey Mouse.

When I came home, Margie and I brought him home with us to ease the burden on his mother, now that she has three little ones, including two-week old Lynxton, to care for.

Margie had been staying there to help out, but I wanted her to come home with me and so we brought Jobe, too.

Friday, I leave on the 6:05 AM flight to Barrow. That means no good sleep tonight, either.

I stopped at Abby's on my morning walk - not for another breakfast but just for a shot of coffee. That's two-year old Danielle in her arms and 62-year old Harold Olsen chatting with them.

"How long have you lived here?" Harold asked me.

"Thirty-years," I answered.

"Newcomer," he said.

Harold's family homesteaded some property in 1953 right near where Abby would later grow up on the Mahoney Homestead.

Of course, to the Tanaina, even the homesteaders are newcomers.

This is Danielle's five-year sister, Audrianna, sampling the frosting.

Now... I am faced with a couple of intense tasks that I need to do over the next two to three weeks and I don't really have time to blog at all. Plus, somewhere, somehow, sometime, I really need to get some serious sleep. Maybe Saturday night and Sunday morning at Roy Ahmaogak's house in Barrow.

I had thought about putting this blog on hiatus again until I accomplish what needs to be accomplished, but decided against it.

I will attempt to post throughout the next two weeks or so, but don't expect much in these posts. Maybe one picture, sometimes, and one sentence.

I might miss a few posts altogether.

When the tasks are done and I get a decent sleep, I will finally blog my New York City David Alan Harvey Loft Workshop experience.

I am not going to let that one go untold.

Chicken and chicks at Abby's Home Cooking - all elements of this post made possible by Steve Jobs

I got up this morning, stepped outside and found that everything was frozen. I always go out for breakfast the morning after I return from a trip, so I warmed up the car, buckled Jobe into his car seat, got Margie and then jumped in to drive off to Abby's Home Cooking, but the windshield had iced-over, so I had to clean it off.

I kind of forgot about that kind of thing while I was in New York, sweltering most of the time.

I did not take my camera to Abby's, but decided that I would rely solely on my iPhone, so that is what I used to photograph this chicken and chicks that sit in a window at Abby's.

iPhone - one of Steve Job's gifts to the world. Of course, I put this post together on a Macintosh. Rather than drag Margie out here into my office to show her the post on my computer, I will show it to her on my iPad.

This Steve Jobs guy - he totally remade my life.

I'm going to miss him.

Return to a missing day: bunny rabbit, cowboy and grandson, dogs, bear, horse hair and more

During my hiatus, I continued to take pictures as usual -- far too many to go back and blog it all, but I will blog a little bit of it. There are a couple of photographic encounters that stand out in my mind, and I will still blog those for sure. I thought about blogging one of them today, but my readership always falls on Saturdays, so instead, I closed my eyes, ran my cursor up and down over the list of missing days, stopped, opened my eyes, and found the cursor had stopped on Thursday, September 1.

So here we go on that day:

I decided to have breakfast at Abby's Home Cooking and to go by bicycle. When I stepped out of the house, I saw this bunny rabbit dashing through the yard.

Poor bunny rabbits.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere early this summer... two or three, maybe. Their numbers quickly grew. Soon, bunny rabbits were everywhere. One evening, I came driving down Sarah's way and there was a bunny rabbit standing at the end of every driveway, like little sentries. I passed maybe ten houses protected by these little sentries.

Then, a few weeks ago, their numbers began to decline. Dogs? Maybe someone had a feast of bunny rabbit stew, somewhere, with bunny rabbits packed into the freezer for later? Humanely trapped and gone to the pound? Perished on chilly nights?

There are still a few bunny rabbits out there, but, a month from now, there won't be.

Winter is coming. These bunny rabbits are not winter rabbits.

Around here, winter is the domain of the snowshoe hare, dinner to the lynx, fox, and eagle.

Snowshoe hares are Arctic tough. These bunny rabbits are not.

At Abby's Home Cooking, I found Tim Mahoney, drinking coffee and feeding a fresh cinamon roll to his grandson, five-year old Wesley.

Wesley already helps out on the ranch.

Tim and Wesley, headed out the door.

Tim and Wesley, getting into the truck.

I was pedalling home when suddenly this dog shot past me, striking from behind, grazing my left ankle as it passed. It gave me a start, but then I recognized it. I know this dog. He likes to stage quick ambush charges, which can really startle you, because he seems to suddenly materialize out of nowhere and for a moment you do not know what is happening.

He is not a mean dog, though. He just likes to give you a start. Once he has done so, he is harmless, even without the muzzle.

I wonder if he has had any bunny rabbits to eat?

As usual when I am home, the remainder of September 1 was pretty much spent at my computer - although I did take my usual 4:00 PM coffee break at Metro Cafe. As I was driving and sipping on Sunset, this dog came charging after my car. 

The dog falls back, as seen in my rearview mirror.

Continuing on, I saw that a conversation was taking place ahead, at the side of the road.

I have no idea what they were conversing about. Could have been anything... dogs, horses, women, politics, the high cost of gas, all the heat and fire in Texas and how they're sure glad they are here and not there... I don't know. 

Anything.

Peanut butter, perhaps. Does it go better with honey or jelly?

Honey, I say - but jelly can be pretty good, too.

Especially when you are cold and you have been cold for a long time, but now someone has given you a hot thermos of coffee and some Sailor Boy pilot bread cookies and there is peanut butter and you slather it on, spread jelly on top of that and you feel the heat of the coffee as it chases the peanut butter jelly down your gullet and then you have to say, this peanut butter and jelly is pretty damn good, so you lather up another.

I continued and soon saw a little black bear crossing the road ahead of me. I hoped to catch up to it before it disappeared into the trees, but it disappeared quick.

Lately, I have heard reports of some big grizzlys in this same area - of paw prints over a foot long.

On Shrock I had to pull to the side of the road to let this screaming ambulance pass by.

Somewhere nearby, someone's day had gone terribly wrong.

I hope not too terrible, but who knows?

Perhaps for someone it was the day that ended all days; perhaps someone just had bad gas and thought it was a heart attack, or maybe they shattered their shoulder like I did.

I don't know.

Come evening, I took my bike ride. These two passed me on Church Road and as they did, the kid in back waved at me. I did not have my camera ready and I missed the picture.

I felt bad about that, but there was a downhill stretch ahead of me, so maybe I could get another chance. I pedaled as hard and fast as I could and caught them and passed them about a quarter mile on. As I passed, they both waved.

I stopped at the Mahoney Ranch and took a few photos of the oats, standing in teepee-like bundles. I am not going to post those pictures, because on other days I got some, complete with Mahoneys, that I like better.

As I was taking pictures, I heard someone shout, "Hey, Bill!" I looked up and saw a Mahoney horse, in the distance, too far away for me to photograph. "I notice your hair is getting thin," the horse shouted with the full force of his massive lungs. "I left some of mine on the fence for you. Put it on your head. You'll look lots better then."

Now, back to just yesterday:

Okay... just to keep this timely, I return almost to the present, to yesterday: Kalib, pushing an empty stroller through the back yard. His mom experienced many contractions yesterday, but did not go into full labor.

We are definitely on baby watch, now.

Study of the Young Writer, Shoshana, at Metro Cafe #7,829: Shoshana with Jay Cross, pilot and aircraft mechanic. Jay was thinking that maybe my airplane could be put back into the air for less than I think. Someday,he wants to come by take a look at it.

Unless I get rich, I think that airplane is done for. As I have stated before, if I could come up with the money to put it back into the air, I would just buy another one, so that I could get there, quick. But if I get rich, I will buy another and get my wreck rebuilt and then keep both. That airplane and I had many good experiences together. I love that airplane, and that's why I keep it around, even though its no good anymore.

My next door neighbor hates my plane. He built a fence between us, just so he wouldn't have to look at it.

He doesn't like cats, either. In fact, he hates cats.

Otherwise, he seems to be a pretty decent fellow, but I doubt that we will ever be the best of friends. He keeps pretty much to himself and so do we.

I wonder how he feels about bunny rabbits? Hopping through his yard?

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