Memorial Day, 2011: the big water battle; flowers at roadside memorial; we feast

On the final night of Kalib and Jobe's final Memorial Day weekend visit with us, Jacob and Lavina came out to sleep at our house. On Memorial Day morning, we went to breakfast at Denali Family Restaurant. I fear that I am shifting my loyalties from the old Mat-Su Family Restaurant to Denali. It is the hash browns, that is why.

Hash browns have always been a gamble at Mat-Su. You just never know - they can come fried to a crisp, reduced to mush, or cooked just right. So far, they have been cooked just right at Denali every time - and it sure seems that they are fresh cut and not taken from a package. They are as good as any hash browns I have ever eaten, anywhere.

Denali Family Restaurant hash browns are superb!

Mat-Su Family has long been a place of morning refuge for me and I feel kind of bad about shifting over, but that's what excellent hash browns will do.

I will still go to Mat-Su, sometimes - if for no other reason than old times sake.

Later, in the early afternoon, Margie and Lavina went to the store to do some shopping. After awhile, I went out to see what the three boys were doing. Jimmy came with me. We found two of the three boys watching a butterfly pass overhead.

I am not certain what the other one was into.

Then Kalib turned on the faucet. He began to fling water around.

Soon, both boys were getting a bit wet and muddy. Jobe was most interested in the process.

Kalib got the idea that it might be fun to spash his brother, so he did.

After taking the blast of cold water, Jobe turned and momentarily fled.

In just seconds, he fully recovered, and began to laugh. He laughed so hard he blew the snot right out his nose.

Dad joined in the fight, allying himself with Jobe.

Oh, it was a battle insane!

Jobe was most amused.

Kalib checks his ammo as Jobe strategizes.

Jacob knew that he had to get the boys dried off and cleaned up before Mom and Grandma came home.

Jobe didn't stay clean very long.

As all this had been going on, Jim had found a patch of dirt to roll around in. Only his face remained undusted.

Jim then trotted off into the woods. I cannot let him go there alone, so I followed.

So did the other three.

Then the ladies came home. We guys mentioned nothing at all about the battle that had taken place. The ladies can find out when they read this blog. Jake will be in big trouble then.

The boys and their dad lay down to nap. I took off to ride my bike. I found a broken scooter on the Seldon Road bike trail, just lying there, abandoned.

I wondered what the story behind that was?

If I had the time, I would write a novel based on this mysterious scooter. It would be a best seller. I don't have the time. If you do, feel free to steal my idea - go ahead, write a novel based on this image.

When I reached the corner of Church and Schrock Roads, I was reminded that although Memorial Day was established at the end of the Civil War as a holiday to honor and mourn our military dead, it has also become a time that people take to honor all their dead, to bring flowers to graves and memorials.

This is not a grave, but is the place where where three people were killed in 1999 in a collision caused by a drunk driver - a woman, a teenaged girl and an unborn child. 

For years afterward, loved ones kept memorial crosses atop this pile of stones, but vandals repeatedly tore down the memorials until the loved ones gave up and settled for just the pile of stones.

On Memorial Day, someone had brought these wreathes and placed them here. 

Let us hope that respect and compassion can now replace ignorance and cruelty in the hearts of the vandals.

I stopped on the bridge over the Little Susistna River. These two came by as part of a carvan of four-wheelers.

I have crossed the bridge a number of times since I began biking again, but I had not gone down to the river itself. Today, I did - and symbolically put my front wheel in the water.

I do not know what this symbolizes, but it must symbolize something.

On the bank and in the shallows, people frolicked.

When I returned home, I found Margie and Lavina repairing the picnic table.

Inside, I found the boys napping. I then went off to buy some iced drinks and to fill the tank with expensive gas. When I returned, the boys had not moved at all.

Lavina began the cooking by roasting bread on the barbecue.

If one studies all the faces in this picture and then gives some thought to it... it is just incredible to think about, to ponder the history, the sorrows, the changes, distances covered, the links from then until now.

Lavina kept the grill going.

And then we ate - but Kalib was napping and Caleb was sleeping in prep for his night shift.

And then, somewhere between nine and ten PM, it came time to say goodbye.

Margie and I had enjoyed the rapidly enlarging little ones for three days, but now they were going.

Caleb missed everything. He slept through breakfast. He slept through the water battle. He slept through dinner. But he awoke in time to say goodbye.

And then off they went, the people in the car and Muzzy running alongside, all the way back to Anchorage.

Well, I exaggerate a little. Muzzy would only run to the stop sign, about 200 yards away. Then he would trade places with Jacob and drive the family home while Jacob ran alongside the car - all the way to Anchorage.

Don't worry. It's okay that the dog drove. Muzzy has a license.

I then found Margie in the back yard, cleaning up.

"It's too quiet now," she said.

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I bike to Church, go on to Sunrise, see a four-wheeler through a pipe and am told a search is under way; Fat Boy's is gone, Sicily's is here

My modem went on the blink and ceased to blink, so, if I wanted to keep blogging, I had to take it back to GCI and trade it in for a new one. As I pulled out of the driveway to go and do so, I saw Kalib in the back of Caleb's truck. Caleb was nearby, keeping an eye on him.

After I swapped out the modem, I returned toward home along the edge of Wasilla Lake and shot a few blind frames. By "blind frames" I mean that I pointed my camera through the window and without looking in that direction myself, fired off a few frames, letting fate and serendipity choose the subjects and the composition.

Just a few weeks ago, Wasilla Lake was still coated in ice.

Now look at it. It has once again become:

"Wasilla Malibu."

I should do a series of studies of Wasilla Malibu throughout the summer - even though I don't expect to be here that much this summer. Still, I will shoot what studies I can, beginning with this one, which I shall title:

Wasilla Malibu Study #204: The red fire hydrant and the sunburnt boy.

Next I went to the Post Office. After I came out, I got into the car and started to drive away, but I saw the broader-faced of these two dogs. I braked to a stop, backed up, parked poorly, jumped out, scurried over and told the lady and the man kept by the canines that I would like to photograph the dog and then the other dog appeared and so I amended that to, "I would like to photograph your dogs."

So I did. I didn't learn much about the dogs, because, as I have already stated, I was parked poorly and needed to move my car before the wrong person came along, took offense, and shot me. I did learn that both dogs had just been groomed. They had been wearing heavy winter coats but now they were ready for summer.

I also learned their names, one was Sammy and the other was... the other was... the dog's name was...

Oh, good grief! I have forgotten!

This is terrible.

Not only that, I can't even remember which dog is Sammy and which is the other dog. 

But one of them is Sammy and whichever one he is, he is a mighty beautiful and fine looking dog and his temperament is pleasant.

Next I took a bike ride, my longest one so far this season. Here I am, headed down Church Road.

Here I am, about three or four miles further along, on Sunrise. A man and a boy pass by me on a fourwheeler and wave. I want to wave back, but worry that I might crash if I do because I am already pedaling and photographing and talking on my iPhone while surfing the web and to add one more element might just be too much.

So instead I nod my head and shout "hi!" hoping they can hear over the engine and wind noise.

Actually, I was not talking on my cell phone - or surfing the web. My iPhone was in my pocket. I just made that up to add a little bit of drama to the moment.

Our paths intersected again a little further down Sunrise, by the Mahoney Ranch, where the road has been torn up so that some new drainage pipes can be dropped in beneath it.

Turns out it was Dustin and his son. Dustin grew up just up the road. We talked a bit and he spoke about how wonderful it was to grow up here and I commented that he must have seen a lot of change and development and it must frustrate him a bit and he said, oh yeah, he had witnessed incredible growth and change and it was frustrating.

I was nodding away in awe at all the change he must have witnessed growing up here his whole life, especially considering all the change I had seen even though I grew up elsewhere and have only lived here a short time when suddenly it struck me that my short time living in Wasilla is getting close to 30 years and Dustin looks pretty young so I have probably been here longer than he has and have seen even more change.

As we were talking, a car stopped and a young Mahoney got out and then prepared to ride away on a bike. He said the people who had just dropped him off had told him that a two year-old child had wandered off and got lost at the s-curve, maybe a bit over a mile up the road. A search was underway and he was going to go help.

One never wants to hear or believe such news, but these things happen. It puzzled me a bit, though, because I had already pedaled through the s-curve and had seen no one. I knew that if a search had been going on there, there would have been people and emergency vehicles at that curve.

Maybe I had pedaled through before the search began. I did not think so, though. I thought perhaps he had received some inaccurate information. I hoped so.

The young man pedaled away.

I then took a picture of Dustin and his son through the new culvert pipe.

Then they turned around and headed off. I resituated myself on my bike and pedaled off in the same direction. I soon realized that they were going pretty slow and it would be an easy thing to catch them and then shoot a few frames as I pedaled alongside them.

So that is what I did. The Mahoney horses were in the field on the other side and I had planned to shoot a few pictures of them on the way back, but by the time I had shot my final frame of Dustin and son, I had passed the horses.

At that point, all I could think about was the story about the two-year old. I did not want it to be true. I did not think it was true. But I had to find out. If it was true, then I would have to do my part to help.

I could not leave with a two-year old child wandering in the woods, or being downstream in the frigid waters of the Little Su.

I pedaled on, toward the s-curve. Soon the Mahoney kid came into view, returning home. He said there was no one at the s-curve, no sign of any kind of search at all. The information he received must have been bad, he said.

Relieved, I pedaled on. As I reached the s-curve, an airplane passed overhead.

In time, I reached Seldon, which not so long ago became the Mat-Su Veterans Highway. It is hard to think of Seldon Street being considered a highway, but if it is a highway, then it is appropriate to name it for the veterans.

I took this picture right by Fat Boy's pizza. Unfortunately, Fat Boy's has gone out of business. It was said that he would reopen in a busier part of town in May, but he did not. I hope he yet does.

Now, there was a sign in the window that said, "Abby's Home Cooking, opening soon."

I wonder if Abby will serve breakfast? What will her hash browns be like?

Will she steal me away from the Family Restuarants? It would be an easy and good thing to leave the car behind and get on my bike in the morning and peddle the mile-and-a-half to Cora's.

When I got home, the house was chaotic. Jobe and Kalib were having a blast. It was after 7:00 PM. All the dishes were dirty, no one wanted to cook and dirty more dishes and anyway I now had pizza locked into my brain. So I ordered pizza from Sicily's, the place on the Parks Highway just past Church Road that I only discovered while driving home from Fairbanks May 15, following the honoring of Katie John.

They deliver, but the lady on the phone said it would take 45 to 55 minutes but the pizza would be ready in 15, if I were to pick it up.

So I picked it up. On the way home, I saw this dog.

I am very sad to have lost Fat Boy's, but glad to have discovered Sicily's.

It was very good pizza.

I ate too much, though, and then, to compensate, I had watermelon and cantaloupe afterwards.

After the gorge, I found Kalib and Caleb playing in the guest room. "Uncle!" Kalib would say. "Nephew!" Caleb would answer. Then they would reach out their hands and touch.

Jobe finished the day with some milk and then went to bed. Just as he is no longer sleeping in his cradle board, he no longer dines on mother's milk. 

Lavina had two goals in mind when she breast fed Jobe for over a year - the first was to provide him the healthiest diet possible, the second to give Jake and her a natural form of birth control.

It will soon be evident just how successful that part of the plan proved to be.

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Mormon missionaries ride bicycles

Two Mormon missionaries with their bicycles, spotted as I crossed through the intersection of the Palmer-Wasilla and Glenn Highways in Palmer. Other than what you see in the picture, I know nothing of them, yet I know them very well - better even than they do.

A former Mormon missionary shadow biking down Seldon Street in Wasilla. I know all about him, yet he is an enigma to me. I may never understand him at all.

Now... I must apologize. I have spent the past five or six hours dealing with one of those things that a man who is not a businessman yet is in business for himself must sometimes deal with, just like a real businessmen must - one of those things that he thinks he can do in half-an-hour and if he was a real business man could probably do in three sentences to his secretary, who would then take care of it in 15 minutes. The businessman who is is not a business man then winds up spending half a day and nearly $2000 to get done, an expense which will liklely yield him nothing and the particulars of which he does not understand at all but if he wants to stay in business he has to take the time and he has to spend the money.

So I am left with time to begin my long delayed Arctic series and it will have to start tomorrow.

Actually, the best thing to do would be to hold it for the online magazine I plan to start and not even worry about it all for now, but I promised that I would do it and there are people who have let me know they want to see it, so I will do it.

Hopefully, beginning tomorrow.

Now I must get back to work.

Except the sun is shining. It is wonderfully warm and I do not want to be inside at all.

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One bike and two dogs

The thing that I have noticed about my bike-riding this spring is that it has been taking me considerably longer to get back into pedaling shape than ever before. I have been going anywhere from a scant six to ten miles a day, but the day before yesterday I went 15 and then yesterday I was dragging all day.

I'm still dragging.

Of course, about half of that was against the wind - and uphill, too!

Still, I have to think it might be because I am finally hitting a point in life where I can truly feel the difference in age one year to the next. Then, too, the past winter was a draining one for me - so maybe it is the two combined: age and drain.

Yet, I think I am starting to get stronger; despite the fact that I am dragging, my endurance is on the increase.

And guess what?

When I park my bike after today's ride, I won't be biking anymore for awhile.

All the conditioning that I have been doing will go away.

I am about to go traveling again, that's why.

At this time tomorrow, I should be sitting in an airplane, flying over northwest Alaska, approaching my destination. I will be gone for anywhere from a week to 12 days and if it is 12, then I will return home just long enough to unpack my bags, wash my clothes and get on a jet going south.

But back to yesterday's bike ride:

I had barely begun when I came upon Tony, the hunter and author, and Taiga, the hunting dog, who knows how to retrieve a duck but can't write a single sentence.

I pedaled about ten miles. As I neared home, this dog suddenly appeared in front of me and like a bullet shot straight to my leg.

I know this dog. It acts tougher than it is. I am not afraid of it.

It could sure be unnerving to a biker who doesn't know it, muzzled though it be.

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Train rumbles by family; the bike ride: air dancer, church chicken offers free eggs, art and soul; the wood gatherers

When I walked into Family Restaurant for breakfast, there was a different lady handling the seating and she tried to seat me in the wrong place. I refused to go there, because if I had sat there and a train came by, I could not even have seen it.

So she relented and gave me a booth by the window that looks out at the railroad tracks.

Sure enough, a train went by.

Sometimes, you just have to stand up for your rights if you want to see the train.

Between breakfast and coffee break, I took a break for lunch and ate it in the backyard with Jim. The temperature was 45 degrees, very pleasant, and I shot a nice little picture story titled, "Lunch in the Backyard With Jim."

But I don't have time to edit, process, place and write about the pictures, so I will just move on to coffee-break time. Here I am, on my coffee break. I have already been to Metro and now I am pedaling on the bike path that parallels the Parks Highway.

This guy or gal is dancing and waving at me, trying to get me to come into a nearby store and buy clothes.

I refuse. 

I pedal on.

At the corner of Parks and Church, I come upon a gigantic chicken with the face of man waving a sign advertising free eggs. The chicken is Ned, and he says the eggs are being given away at the Lamb of God Church, about one more mile up the road.

He says there are a lot of people who can't afford to buy eggs during this Easter Season and the congregation at the Lamb of God wants these people to be able to celebrate Easter with eggs.

But even if you are rich and don't celebrate Easter, you can still stop and get free eggs. They do not do means testing at the Lamb of God.

At least, you could have got eggs yesterday. The egg giveaway is now over.

Ned told me to let everybody know that each Wednesday, the church puts on a noon feed for the poor. But it is not limited to the poor. Anyone can come and eat. So you are all invited. Yes, my Hindu family in India - you too. You come here and we can go together to eat at the Lamb of God - just like we get to eat at your temple if we want.

I gave myself an assignment to go to the Lamb of God one Wednesday and eat.

The problem is, it could easily be another month before I am in Wasilla on a Wednesday again and by then I will probably have forgotten that I gave myself such an assignment.

But if I see another chicken in the road giving away eggs, I will remember.

The lady who was with Ned. I believe she was his wife, but I didn't pry, so I can't be certain.

I could have pedaled on towards the Lamb of God, but I turned on Church and pointed my bike towards home. Soon, I came upon this bike path art.

I remember when Maureen Dowd, columnist of the New York Times was in Wasilla and she described my town as a tiny, bleak soulless place devoid of culture and sidewalks.

Well, as regular readers of this blog have probably figured out, Wasilla is not tiny at all. It sprawls. You could probably drop half or more of Manhattan Island into Wasilla. We don't have no sidewalks, all right, but we got bike paths and plenty of culture - just look at the fine art you can find right on a Wasilla bike path!

There is soul aplenty in that there art work.

A bit up Church, I found these people gathering firewood from a newly cleared lot. They spoke to each other in what sounded to be Russian. They were friendly enough and I was tempted to hang out and learn their life history, but they were busy, I had a huge amount of work waiting for me at home, work to keep me going into the wee hours of the next morning, when I would stop only because I was ready to drop.

So I held my questions for another time, another day, should I ever meet them again. I pedaled home and got back to work.

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