I get flipped off, wind up by the airplanes; get together with some of Alaska's best photographers

The driver of this car flipped me off; he had red hair, he was rude, and he did not know the rules and courtesies of the road. For just a little bit, my heart was filled with a stupid desire to run him off the road and knock some sense into him, bump him around a bit with my titanium prothesis.

After he let his bird loose, I wound up behind him at a stoplight, in the lane just to left of him, behind the vehicle that was momentarily stopped alongside him. I studied the scene and plotted how, when the light turned green, I could cut into his lane, zip around the vehicle that now blocked me from him, pull up alongside him and then force him over to the side of the road and give him a dose of sense; teach him some rules of the road and give him some instruction in common courtesy.

Then some sense came into me. I decided to take a picture instead. When the light turned green, he gunned it and I snapped the shutter. The vehicle that had separated me from him then started rolling again and I did too. I could have gone straight down Ingra, and continued the confrontation, but I turned left, onto Northern Lights Boulevard.

He probably thought me a coward, imagined that he had scared me off, but a flipped bird isn't worth someone getting killed over, and you never know when it will come to that.

It has happened many times around here.

This great drama took place in Anchorage, where I wound up wasting over three hours. It was all my fault. I needed to deliver some photo files to a client and I had misunderstood and thought that anytime today would be fine, but she had a morning deadline and I missed it. She then called the place in New York where she was going to send the pictures and told them my images would be late, so I burned a disk and skeedadled on into Anchorage, where I planned to attend a workshop that started at 5:30 PM.

So I dropped the pictures off a bit after 2:00 PM and then I had nothing productive to do. I bought a burrito at Taco Bell, then drove slowly around, listening to various programs on NPR, including Fresh Air with Terri Gross and All Things Considered.

Somehow, when I just drive idly and aimlessly about Anchorage, I always wind up at Lake Hood, where the airplanes are. Always. I don't set Lake Hood as a destination. I just drive and soon I am there.

So here I am, on the bank of Lake Hood, watching a plane taxi for takeoff.

Damnit. When will I get an airplane again? This blog can never fully be what I want it to be until I get another airplane. Probably right now, I could not even pass the medical, given the events of the past year and my still incomplete recovery. Still, I must get another airplane and I must finish healing; I must get my medical renewed, so that the skies over Alaska can once again be mine again; so that Alaska can be mine, as it was before.

This is Kevin Ames, the expert conducting the workshop that lasts through tomorrow. You can learn about Kevin and his expertise here. For blog purposes, I think enough to say that he knows much about aspects of digital photography and software that I do know a fair amount about, but need to learn a lot more. So here I am, at the workshop.

In the course of his lesson, he showed us a few of his images. Many were of exquisitely beautifully women wearing very little but tastefully posed.

I have never taken photographs like that.

How come?

The workshop is being sponsored by the local chapter of the American Society of Media Photographers. Long ago, I was not a member and then I joined, but I let it lapse. Finally, after more than a decade of being out there there pretty much all by myself, I joined again, at the end of 2008.

It is not that I have had any intent to do so, but my interaction with Alaska's photographic community has been limited. I am sure this has hurt me, because you always learn when you get together with people of like interest. Everbody that you see in this picture knows things about photography and this profession that I don't. I would be much better off if I did. So would Margie.

Some of Alaska's best photographers are right here, in this image. I won't name any of them, because there are some in the group whose names I do not know.

They are all my peers and it is time that I get to know them better, time for me to learn from them and to give something back, instead of just being the loner all the time.

I can be still be a loner most of the time, but not all the time.

Insundry Images from today: Kalib on walk; Muzzy misbehaves; cell tower goes up, airplane passes by moon, cop-stop; kids on Schrock

This morning, I cooked eggs, bacon and hashbrowns and afterward I needed to go on a walk. It was a warm day, so Lavina put Kalib in his stroller and the two came with me.

Ever since Margie got hurt, I have had little exercise. I have taken only three walks and all have been short. I have eaten a great deal of junk food. I could feel it on this walk. My breath headed in the direction of short on slight uphills that, at the time of Margie's accident, I would not even have noticed.

Lavina asked me if I was going to go snowshoeing anytime soon. Ha! Before I even think about it, I've got to turn this around. Today was a start. A small start.

Muzzy misbehaved. But only because he loves to play with other dogs so much that sometimes he forgets who is boss. So he chased after a dog, hoping to play with it. The poor dog fled in terror. Afterward, Lavina reminded him that he is not the alpha male; she is. No striking, no violence - she just spoke firmly and he submitted.

A bit later, we saw some goats. She put the leash on him, just in case he forgot.

In the afternoon, I drove to Little Miller's to get some coffee for me and to bring back a cup to Margie. The coffee was very hot, much hotter than she likes, so I meandered a bit on the return, until finally I came down Wards Road. I was surprised to see the cellphone tower up. Given yesterday's entry, I don't know why I was surprised, but I was.

Cellphone tower and moon. The coverage here is still weak and spotty. I wonder when they will turn it on?

As it looks now, coming down Wards.

After I park the car in our driveway and get out, an airplane flies by. Moonlight grows.

Come night, Margie and I needed to eat. Everyone else was gone. So I went to Carr's and bought some food, including fresh raspberries and blackberries. They were identical to raspberries and blackberries that I had bought in Washington, D.C. and that Mary Ann had fed us in Salt Lake City.

As I drove home, I passed a "cop-stop." The officer had just returned to his car from the Chevy Trailblazer that he had pulled over and was about to get into it. I can only speculate as to why he had pulled the Trailblazer over to begin and that speculation could be completely wrong. On the other hand, it could be absolutely true, too.

Still, I will keep all such speculation in my head.

As to this photo, I place it here only to remind myself that it exists - assuming that one day, I will come back and read this post, because I will forget all about it, otherwise. It is a picture that I think has potential, but the foreground is severely underexposed and the sky, overexposed. So here, right now, it will look like nothing.

But one day, maybe, if I can spend some time working on it, drawing out what is in the foreground and smoothing out the resultant noise a bit (this will be difficult) and bringing the sky back in line (this will be easy) it just might be a good photo.

It might not be, either. It might be beyond hope.

Right now, I don't have the time or energy to fool with it.

Speaking of energy, sooner or later I must deal with Margie's accident in here, and the aftermath. Maybe tomorrow. No, wait! Grahamn Kracker has been promising to get a certain post up on his Kracker Cat blog, so I think perhaps I should hold back here, keep tomorrow's entry simple, and let him get it done.

Kalib turns on the charm for Granny B waitress; jet passes overhead; Lisa at work

It was just after noon and I had eaten nothing since last evening, as I had to do a blood draw today. After the draw, we headed toward Anchorage to see a movie and to drop Kalib off with his parents, but first I needed to eat so we stopped at Granny B's, where they serve breakfast all day.

Kalib quickly began to flirt with the waitress.

She was a pushover; she quickly succumbed to his charms.

Kalib enjoyed the attention. Breakfast was good. Afterward, we dropped Kalib off at his Dad's place of work, where they were having a Christmas party and he would meet Santa.  We then headed to the movie.

Slumdog Millionaire is what we saw. One of the characters in it was named Latika and in one scene, when she was a young girl begging on the streets of Mumbai, she reminded of a very specific young beggar girl who crossed my path in Bangalore. 

The movie got out about 3:45, so we climbed into the car to drive to see Lisa and this is what it looked like at that time.

Lisa at work at the admissions desk at the family medicine clinic of the Alaska Native Medical Center.

After we got home, I found the pictures of the girl in Bangalore and I was going to put them in this post. I decided the post had enough images, however.

So I will make a follow-up post, and put the Latika who was probably not Latika at all in that entry.

The street man: what his Alaska Native peoples fed me; what I gave to him

I saw him standing on the corner ahead of me as I drove toward the green light. I hoped it would stay green, but the traffic ahead of me was moving slow and when it turned yellow, I knew that I would come to stop on the corner, right beside him.

I did. He came walking toward me through the zero degree (F) air, a friendly smile on his face. I could not turn away as if he were not there, so I smiled back and rolled down the window.

"God bless you on this good day, sir!" he said.

"You too," I answered. "Where you from?"

"Mountain Village," he said. "Yukon River. It's located on the Lower Yukon."

"Yes, I know," I told him. "I've been there."

I've been in villages all over Alaska, which is different than going to villages in any other state. Mostly, you fly to these villages, as very few are on our limited road system.

The people out there have treated me good. They have put me up in their homes and they have fed me: moose, caribou, salmon, bowhead whale, beluga whale, seal, duck, goose, swan, beaver, sheefish, whitefish, crab, blueberries, salmon berries' berries of many kinds, seaweed, walrus, bighorn sheep, musk ox, mountain goat...

Food does not get better than what they feed me.

I gave the man a dollar. I don't know how he will spend it. The light turned green. I drove away.

The incident described happened in Anchorage. This is the kind of day that it was.

And here I am, a bit earlier on the Glenn Highway, passing through the East Side of Anchorage. I should replace the cracked windshield. But soon, it would be cracked again.

Passing by Merrill Field.

What it looked like when I reached downtown Anchorage.

This is why I went to Anchorage. I had something that had to be mailed today. The only Post Office that was open was the Airport Post Office. I took this picture, looking backwards, after I had been in line for over an hour. I still had quite a wait ahead of me.

I suspect that most of them were mailing Christmas gifts.

As I drive away from the airport post office.

The Marriott Hotel, with Conoco Phillips rising behind it.

And this is from earlier in the day, when a bunch of us gathered at IHOP for the usual Sunday breakfast. Tots always pick each other out of the crowd.

Two airplanes photographed from a car, one in Anchorage, the other, Fairbanks; Wasilla's empty sky

As I drove by Lake Hood in Anchorage, November-Seven-Zero-Six-Mike taxied past. Margie had an appointment with the eye doctor and, because she would be too blind to drive home afterward, I took her to town and back.

After I dropped her off for her appointment, I drove off, with no idea how I would kill the next hour. Soon, I found myself driving by the airplanes at Lake Hood.

Somehow, this always happens.

And Sunday, as I drove down Airport Road in Fairbanks, this plane passed by overhead.

And here's a little empty sky from my usual walk in Wasilla, two days ago. Once, the sky was mine. It must become so again.