A man drifts through Wasilla; Jobe, Kalib and Lavina come out; they take Margie back with them

This would be Margie's last day home before returning to Anchorage - this time for five days and nights - to babysit Jobe, so we took a short outing together in the afternoon.

On the edge of the bike trail that follows the Parks Highway through Wasilla, we saw a man, drifting by, sitting upon the ground.

Then he got up and moved on, leaving a puff of smoke behind him. A short time later, as we drove past Wasilla Lake, which on this day the ice had mostly disappeared from, we saw him again, his thumb out, hitching a ride north, towards Fairbanks, but who knows what his destination was?

It was a hard-looking scene and, had I been able to photograph it, it would have told the story far stronger than either of these two pictures. Unfortunately, I had put my pocket camera in my pocket and, given the traffic, it would have been far too dangerous to try to extract it, activate it, and point it at the man in the little time that I had between spotting and passing him.

Yet the image remains burned into my mind.

I wonder still - will that man drifting past, on the roadside, not a youth but an individual of mature years, hitchhiking to an uncertain destination, yet be me? It often times feels to me like that is where I am headed.

And if so, what will that mean for Margie?

I often times think that she is only reason that it hasn't happened yet. She is the reason why I can't let it happen.

Shortly after we arrived home, Lavina showed up with Kalib. He was feeling much better. I don't really know what was wrong with him but he was doing good now.

He was feeling good enough that he was not about to be tied down by a newspaper - not even the Anchorage Daily News...

...not when there was a whole house to roam about in.

It won't surprise regular readers to learn that his mom had brought Jobe along, too.

Margie and Lavina left to do some shopping and to get a hamburger and had given me instructions on what to do should Jobe wake up. He did wake up, but Caleb got to him before I did.

Caleb is the ultimate bachelor uncle.

Soon, Caleb was feeding Jobe - just as I had been instructed to do.

Caleb and Jobe.

Caleb can't wait for Jobe to get a little bigger, so that he can do the kinds of things with him that he does with Kalib - like play, golf, shoot rubber bands, and whatever.

He thinks Jobe is growing way too slowly, but he isn't.

He is growing way too swiftly.

Soon he will be a big rebellious teenager - not long after that, an old man who has lived his life.

I will be long gone then - hopefully, with my ashes set free to drift the planet, my molecules to help construct other organisms.

Maybe potato bugs and spiders.

I have never seen a potato bug in Alaska, but I remember them well from childhood. They were very fun bugs - the way they would curl up into a little round pellet.

It was like they were custom designed to please children.

They went into the bedroom where Kalib and his parents slept during the year-and-a-half that they lived with us. Kalib had a rubber wristband, which he pulled back, hoping to smack the ceiling with it. "Shoot it up to the stars!" Caleb encouraged him.

Not so long ago, those stars glowed through the winter nights, directly over Kalib in his crib.

Kalib removed Caleb's cap, and put it on his own head.

Then Caleb was in the living room, Kalib in the front room, ready to throw some cardboard package cushioning at his uncle.

Both of them loved this game. Kalib laughed outrageously after each toss - and there were many tosses.

Royce and Jobe. I still wish Royce would get the chance to raise Jobe the way he raised Kalib, but that is not going to happen. He is doing better on his medication and improved diet, but as life goes he is still on the declining slope.

Hell. So am I.

One thing I need to make clear - in some reader's minds, it was Royce who scratched Kalib when he was a crawler, but this is not correct. Royce would never have done such a thing. The patience and tolerance that this cat always granted Kalib, no matter how rough Kalib got with him, was amazing to behold.

It was Martigny that scratched Kalib. She did not do it out of meanness. She did it because she paniced when he got too rambunctious with her.

Margie with Jobe, shortly before they left to go back to Anchorage.

I hated to see them go, because now I am alone again for the next five days, except for the occassional glimpse of Caleb.

But it is far more important that Jobe is cared for by someone who truly loves him than it is that I have the company of my wife.

They back out the driveway, then drive away.

This morning, I encounter a little conflict between the Wasilla Tea Party and my grandson Jobe - who do you think will win?

Recent readers will recall that Kalib burst into my office yesterday as I was working on this blog - just when I had gotten to the point where I was about to arrive at the Wasilla Tea Party rally, staged April 15, Tax Day. This little surprise knocked me off my schedule and when I tried to get back on, too much of the day had passed. I could spend no more of that day working on this blog than I already had, so I stopped, and left it to speculation as to whether or not I would get my tea party rally coverage up today, or ever, or whether I might get distracted by the natural progression of life.

This morning, I sort of woke up thinking that I had better post those Tea Party pictures and I had better write something about what I observed as I wandered through the rally. If not, then what was the point of ever taking the pictures in the first place? What was the point of listening to participants speak those words - some articulate and thoughtful, some totally absurd?

I say, "sort of woke up" because I am not 100 percent certain that I ever really went to sleep and if I did not ever really go to sleep then how could I have woke up?

So I am rather tired. I am not certain that I possess the energy required to think through the words that I must write to go along with the Tea Party pictures.

I will start today's post with this picture of Jobe, Lavina and Margie and see what happens from here - if I make it back to the Tea Party or not.

Even when I am so sleepy that my brain hardly functions, I can find a few words to write about Jobe.

Lavina had brought the two little ones out in part because Kalib has been very clingy towards his mom lately - at least when he gets the chance. So often, when he wants her, she is busy with Jobe, taking care of his needs. Kalib's day care center had scheduled a very special, annual fun day for he and his classmates and all their parents today, one at which a surprise animal always shows up.

Last year, it was a kangaroo.

Lavina wanted to be able to devote a period of uninterrupted, special time to Kalib and his fun day and so we agreed to keep Jobe with us overnight and to return him to Anchorage Saturday afternoon. It would be the first time that Lavina had ever been separated from Jobe for more than a couple of hours.

In the meantime, as the three visited us, both Kalib and Jobe fell asleep. By now, it was 4:00 PM. Coffee and All Things Considered time. So, as Margie stayed behind with the babies, Lavina joined me in the car, we went to Metro, got our coffee and then took the long way home.

Along the way, we saw this student leaving his school bus. I felt a little bad that Kalib was not in the car with us. The sight of a school bus greatly excites him. He would have loved this moment.

Shortly after we got home, not without misgivings near to the point of tears, Lavina picked up her oldest son and left her baby boy behind with we, the grandparents.

She would have a very hard night. One that would bring her to tears - especially when she looked at Jobe's changing table and the place where he sleeps. Even at midnight, she would almost give in, drive out, and pick up her baby - but, for the sake of her oldest son, she persevered and left him with us.

A bit later, I had to check the mail and run a couple of errands. As I did so, I kept hearing sirens and those deep-pitched yet screechy, loud horn blasts that firetrucks make when they are in a hurry and need to get around people. It sounded like the end of the world.

Many screaming, blasting, vehicles passed outside my range of vision, but when I came in sight of the highway, I saw this one coming behind the others - and police cars, too.

Trucks from different stations were involved. It appeared that something major had happened.

Right after the above truck passed, this guy came by on a motorcycle.

Now I had to pull out onto the highway. No more emergency vehicles were in sight, nor could I hear anymore coming. So out onto the highway I went. Then I heard a police siren. I looked in my mirror and saw a police car coming, fast. The traffic was packed in our lanes near the stop light where I now was, so the driver veered into the oncoming lane of traffic, shot past and ran the red light.

This fire vehicle soon followed, and went round on the right.

The driver, as he passed me. I scanned the horizons ahead for smoke, but could see none. I turned off the Highway onto Lucille Street and headed back towards home.

I do not know what happened. This morning, I looked at the Mat-Su section of the Anchorage Daily News, but there was not a word about it. So, for all the drama, it must not have been as bad as it appeared, but, I suspect, for someone, it was very bad indeed.

I decided just to spend some time relaxing in front of the TV with Margie and Jobe - something I very rarely do. We watched The 3:10 to Yuma. To me, there will never be a better kind of escapist movie than a good western.

To his great joy, I gave Jobe some whiskerly love.

And then I fed him some twice-warmed Momma's Milk.

At bedtime, Margie tied Jobe into his cradle board and put him down in our room. Not long afterward, I came in. As regular readers will know, I am joined by at least one and usually two, sometimes three or four, cats every night.

We decided to keep the cats out on this night. What if one of them jumped up onto Jobe's cradleboard?

And that is why I am so sleepy, why I wonder if I ever slept.

Two of those cats, Pistol and Jim, positioned themselves outside the door and kept up a ruckus, all night long. I know I gave in and got up and groggily let one, then the other, in, but somehow, each found the opportunity to get out at some point and then start pleading, pawing, and tapping to get back in.

As you would expect, Jobe woke up crying a couple of times.

And when I heard his little cry, pulling me again into full awakeness from the edge of sleep, I smiled and chuckled.

Never in my life have I heard a more beautiful sound than that little cry.

And so ends this post. No Wasilla Tea Party today.

I take an intermission from my New York series to bring you... Kalib and Jobe! Plus their two fur sibs!

I will return to finish off the New York series with Chie and then probably one more post, but, having been gone for so long, I got lonesome to see my grandsons. I grabbed Margie and headed to town, where we found Kalib at the window, waiting for us.

Margie and Kalib looked out the window at the advance of the spring.

I'm not quite sure how Margie pulled off this little balancing act, but Kalib was mighty interested.

Kalib was sleepy when we arrived and soon lay down to take a nap.

And Jobe woke up from his nap. I was amazed to see how he had grown and filled out in the time that I had been gone. He looks like a dapper little man now.

Jobe, on my lap.

Jobe and his grandma. We let Lavina borrow our car to go off and study her math.

Soon, Jobe wanted to nap again. Margie tied him into his cradleboard.

Margie peeks in at Jobe.

I had to go over and peek in, too. This is what I saw.

Fur sibling Martigny.

Fur sibling Muzzy.

As for me, I am unspeakably tired. And I have other tasks that I must do. So I am going to wait until Monday morning to return to my New York series and Chie Sakakibara.

Truth is, I am just flat-out exhausted.

I don't think I will ever recover.

Boston to Nantucket: I share an airplane with sweet baby Junior

This is sweet baby Junior and, just like me, he is preparing to fly from Boston to Nantucket on a Cape Air Cessna. The breeze catches his mom's hair and hurls it skyward.

Shortly after I get in and buckle myself down, I see sweet baby Junior boarding with his mom.

I can't believe my good fortune! Sweet baby Junior sits down beside me! I see that I will have good, intelligent, company on this trip. I believe we will discuss Socrates, Shakespeare and Persimon Munk.

The pilot gives us the preflight briefing. Sweet baby Junior pays rapt attention. I can tell that he is worried that the pilot does not know what he is doing and might crash. 

"It is okay," I tell him. "I think this pilot knows what he's doing - and if he doesn't, I'm a pilot too, so I will just simply take over. And I've only crashed once, so you know you will be safe if I must fly the plane."

As you can see from his expression, this filled Sweet baby Junior with great relief.

Soon, we left Boston behind us.

Shortly after we flew out over the Atlantic, I turned to sweet baby Junior to start the discussion. "So," I queried, "what is your theory about whatever became of the vanished libraries of Persimon Munk?"

But sweet baby Junior did not answer. He had fallen into dreamland.

Perhaps he would find the answers there.

Soon we were over what is nick-named Fog Island, home of the old yankee whaling town of Nantucket. 

We come down on final, headed towards Runway 24. I wish that I were flying the damned plane instead of this guy. Not that I have anything against him and he did a good job, but I just always like it better when I am doing the flying. I haven't done the flying for too long, now.

Sweet baby Junior and his mom got out and headed for the Cape Air terminal building, but they had left a shoe behind.

I picked it up and hollered at them. They came back and got it.

I have not seen Sweet Baby Junior since.

Wouldn't it be fun if he showed up at my show?

I kind of doubt it, though.

But I hope he does.

Should you see this, Sweet Baby Junior, know that you have a special invitation.

Two PM, Saturday, March 27, at the Nantucket Whaling Museum.

I return to Anchorage for the final Barrow Whaler games, then visit an under-the-weather Kalib and and a bright-eyed Jobe

I drove back to Anchorage today to photograph the final games of both the Barrow Whaler Ladies and the Barrow Whalers.

I simply do not have time right now to edit and prepare those photos, but I will share this one of Kalib that I took afterward. Margie had been babysitting both he and Jobe so that Lavina could go watch some ball playing herself.

Poor Kalib, though - he still was not feeling good.

When Lavina and I came back, he had just fallen asleep on the couch.

Lavina carried him off to bed.

Lavina, and Jobe. Intellectually, I know that babies do this, yet, it still amazes to see how much he has grown both physically and mentally in just over a month.

I suppose I can take just a little bit of time to add one picture that I took at the games, just as a contrast of a baby at seven months to Jobe's one. This is a Barrow baby and I was introduced to him and I memorized his name but I did not speak it into my cell phone and I have forgotten it.

Compared to Jobe, he looked downright huge.

I guess I will quickly grab, without taking any real time to edit or search through my larger take, one photo each from the boys' and girls' games.

Both teams played the consolation match for third place. Meimoana Havea looks for a shot as Dana Chrestman sets up a screen. I'm afraid the Whaler Ladies lost to Sitka, 24-53.

The Barrow boys, however, beat Mt. Edgecumbe, 66 to 46. Forrest Enlow makes it difficult for Mt. Edgecumbe to throw the ball into play.

This is Abu's mom.

And this Johnny Leavitt, who wants a copy of this picture, plus a few dozen more that I have taken of him at various moments in the past.

Here's this one, Johnny.

And here's June and Juko Aiken with a rowdy group of young fans.

I suppose, having gone this far, I cannot leave the Barrow cheerleaders out.

Now some of the smaller villages have their tournament, including the Point Hope Boys and the Wainwright Girls. I think I must stay home both Thursday and Friday, but I will go back Saturday, when I expect to see some of the village kids battling for their championships.