Driving home from Wal-Mart: Eagle and windsurfing ravens; As I walk, I meet a pup named Charlie

As I took my walk this morning, I spotted two individuals on the road ahead of me. One was quite frisky.

Turns out his name is Charlie. Charlie took a shine to me.

Charlie.

I was driving home from Wal-Mart and the wind was blowing, hard. It was the kind of wind that warms things up, but still, if you stood in it, you would have thought it very cold. The ravens loved the wind. It blew straight into the false front of the building above, then turned toward the sky, creating a strong updraft for the birds to windsurf on.

Here come some ravens, making their way toward the updraft.

The ravens catch the updraft, and go windsurfing.

What fun they have! Ravens love to windsurf.

As I drive on, I spot a bald eagle in a tree, less than 100 yards from the windsurfing ravens. There is no traffic behind me. I stop, roll down my window, shoot my pocket camera, and then continue on.

Later, while walking again, a DHL van comes by. I have heard the bad news about DHL. I wonder if the driver is about to lose his job.

 

I drop Margie off at work at 5:00 PM this afternoon. It has begun to snow.

Melanie visits, and reads the paper. Royce was her birthday present, 14 or 15 years ago. Nobody can remember for certain. Now she lives with two other cats. Royce still lives here. They are always glad to see each other.

New York City: Hot Afternoon in Coney Island (Part 1); Wasilla: Cold Afternoon on Wasilla Lake

Ten days ago, I took a walk along the beach and on the boardwalk of Coney Island. Just as I was preparing to leave and to walk off in search of a cat, I saw this scene. Why is that girl prancing about atop of a school bus in high heels?

But wait! Even as I photograph her strange antics, my peripheral vision picks up some additional action off to my right:

It is a little girl and a woman, framed in the space formed between the jaws and hearts of a pair of public lovers.

 

She is modeling for a fashion shoot. Both she, the photographer, and their light man, who holds a large reflector just out of the frame, are students at Parsons. They hope to make it big, one day soon.

They're still at it.

I decide its time to leave, to go search for a cat. It will be dark soon, so I resolve not to take anymore pictures until I find a cat; I don't want to waste what little daylight I have left and miss out on the cat as a result. I have no idea how long these two stayed here, thus engaged.

I suspect they welcomed the dark.

Before I can find a cat, I come upon this Christ statue, at a Catholic church. Despite my resolve, I pause, and shoot three frames.

I found four Coney Island cats, and here's three of them, along with Santos, the man who fought city hall to keep their home from being destroyed so that someone could build big buildings on the place where these cats play, and hang out with chickens and ducks. I will post the full story on Grahamn Kracker's No Cats Allowed blog, but not until sometime Friday, maybe early, maybe late.

Even now, though, there are other New York City cats on that blog, should anyone be interested.

Today, on Wasilla Lake

 

This morning, I had a vexing internet problem. I could only log on for a second or two and then no more, no matter what I did. So I spent hours consulting with my service provider and Macintosh support, and then, for reasons that no one knows, it started working again.

It was now early afternoon and I was exasperated. I had to get out of here. I grabbed Margie and drove off to Taco Bell. So exasperated was I that I forgot my camera. I never forget my camera. But I did.

"You watch," I told Margie after I realized what I had done, "something wonderful will happen, and I will not have my camera."

Sure enough, as we drove past Wasilla Lake on the return home, we saw some boys playing hockey far out on the ice of the lake. "Damnit." I said.

Then, as we passed by an elementary school, we saw several small students, all standing in a neat row in radiant light alongside the road, a teacher watching over them. "Damnit," I said.

After we got home, I decided to get my camera, go back to the lake, photograph those boys, ask them a few questions and put the images and their answers in the blog. For a moment, I even thought about taking my big guns, the ones that I have hardly touched since my injury - my Canon 1Ds M III and some telephoto and wide angle lenses. I could handle it now, and it wouldn't be for that long, anyway.

Then I decided against it. I would just take the pocket camera, the one that I have been doing all the images in this blog with and work within the parameters that it limited me to.

But when I got back to the lake, the boys were gone. Two girls now walked across the lake. I suspect that they were headed home from school.

That's Fred Meyer's in the background, built right on the edge of the lake.

Our little town has been the brunt of much ridicule these past couple of months, but damn! What a setting we live in.

Hey, I love New York. How could anyone not love New York? But trade this for that, even though a past mayor and the city council let Fred Meyer build their box store in the completely wrong place?

Ha!

And then there was Bill Maher, on TV, looking at my buddy, Jim, the black cat. Man, he is smart. And so funny. I am not being sarcastic. I mean this, sincerely. And yes, our Governor and the little town that all of us who live here, even we who voted for Barack Obama, share with her, absorbed the brunt of much of his humor.

Wasilla: Birthday party, curious cat, curious baby; New York City: Sarcophagus and kids

Today was Lavina's birthday. No, despite the number of "candles," my daughter-in-law did not turn five, but 27 - I think. I could ask her, but she and Kalib have already gone to bed. As for the candles, we did not have any, so we used matches instead. Now you know why there are only five and not 27. Just imagine the difficulties we would have faced if we had tried to light 27 matches on Lavina's cake, all at once.

Earlier in the day, Kalib had found something mighty interesting in the box. Martigny was riveted by something outside. We never did figure out what. We looked through the windows and could not see it. Margie even went outside to check it out. Not a clue.

Two boys and an Egyptian sarcophagus - the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. It is late and right now I am just too tired to carry out the plan that I laid out last night. In fact, I edited and prepared several pictures from my walk through the museum to put into this entry, but, with the exception of this one, I will save them for tomorrow.

Also, I took a number of pictures as I wandered about Wasilla today, but I am too tired to bother with any of them, save for the two above. As for my plan to include a few of the Wasilla images that I took to New York in each entry until I am finished with this trip to New York, yes, I am too tired to do that tonight as well.

But with Wasilla images in this entry, and one from New York, I am keeping to the spirit of my plan, if not the letter.

All the images in this entry were shot with the Canon Powershot G9 point and shoot pocket camera. I am trying to decide whether or not I should get the new G10.

Baby Kalib's first snow / the death of one of the great whaling captains of Barrow

 

It's not really his first snow, as he was born the day after Christmas, last year, but it would seem to be the first snow that he took conscious note of.

Do you remember feeling this kind of wonder?

And it makes him smile. He's an Alaska boy, all right!

As for Muzzy, when it comes to snow, he's an old paw at it.

Muzzy in the snow.

Kalib observes falling flakes.

He touches his first snowball. 

Martigny. I took other pictures out and about in the snow today, and I intended to put some here, but I think I will wait and share them tomorrow, maybe. This was Kalib's day.

The death of the great whaling captain, Arnold Brower Sr., Barrow

Iñupiat Eskimo Whaling Captain Arnold Brower Sr. was found dead this morning, not far from his camp on a river near Barrow. Apparently, from what little information I have so far, his snowmachine fell through the ice. I am told that he was able to get out, but even so he did not make it.

He was the father of 17 children and I have no idea how many grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. One thing that could almost always be counted on was, come whaling season, his crew, the ABC crew, would bring home a bowhead whale to feed the community.

I took this picture inside his home three summers ago, as he fed me caribou soup. Just by the taste of it, Arnold could tell you where a caribou had been shot and in what season.

His crew will be featured in an upcoming National Geographic TV special, so keep your eye out for it.

Arnold was 85. There is no one more knowledgeable about Arctic survival then was he. I found him to be a kind and generous man; exceptionally observant and intelligent. He served as a paratrooper in World War II and since that time had been at the forefront of anything having to do with Native rights and land claims. He did all that he could to make certain that the development which had to come to the Arctic would be done with protection of land and water, mammal, fish, and bird, and the Iñupiat culture at the forefront.

I am greatly saddened by the news of his death, but find comfort in the fact that he never had to face a nursing home and that, to the very end, he lived his life the way he loved it.

This time, we did breakfast at IHOP

  

Jacob loves IHOP corn pancakes and so it has become a Sunday tradition that we meet there for breakfast. As usual, I stepped out the door to start walking, even though the Wasilla IHOP is over five miles from our house. I saw this new snow embedded in the frost that settled down on Caleb's old car - the car that doesn't run anymore.

The plan was for Jacob and Lavina to come and pick me up after I had walked a couple of miles. Then we would go wait at IHOP for a table. Hopefully, we would have one by the time Margie took her lunch break and came to meet us. This is not Jacob and Lavina in the mini-van. I don't know who it is.

These two kids came walking in the opposite direction. I told them what I was doing and they proved to be very friendly. "Have a nice day," they smiled as they continued on in their direction and I, mine. In one of her bright and witty columns, humorist Maureen Dowd of the New York Times, disparaged Wasilla, for among other things, being a place without sidewalks. She forgot to mention our great bike trails.

 

Her dog died of cancer. After I walked for somewhat less than two miles, I turned around and was surprised to see Jacob and Muzzy, jogging toward me. Shortly afterward, we crossed the street and came upon this woman. She, too, had kept a giant dog, but it had come down with cancer. It grew so miserable and pathetic that she had it have it euthanized. She felt pretty badly about that.

I still feel bad about Willow and that was what, four years ago?

Lavina picked us up in the Tahoe. We had to wait for about five minutes for a table.

Kalib charms people, wherever we go.

Jake was dismayed. "Corn pancakes have been removed from our menu," the waitress told him after he ordered some. Perhaps the tradition will change now.

Breakfast at IHOP in contemporary times.

Muzzy gets his share.

The dog that tried to kill the bunny. Remember the rooster? The one that got shot at the place where the chicken crossed the road? This dog lives there as well, as does a bunny. Last June, shortly after my second surgery, the one where I got the new shoulder, I had barely begun my walk when I saw this dog break into the bunny pen, drag the bunny out, take it across the street and then begin to kill it.

In my condition, I was helpless to rescue the bunny. The children of the dog and bunny's people were bouncing on a trampoline in sight of everything, laughing and having a great time, completely unaware.

"Your dog is killing your rabbit!" I shouted. They did not hear. I shouted again and again and again as I drew closer. Finally, they heard. By the time they rescued the rabbit, it was very still and looked dead, but one of the boys told me later that it had survived and was doing fine.

I step into the house and find Martigny on the couch.

At 4:00 PM, I drive back to Wal-Mart to pick Margie up from work. Lavina is in the car with me. She wants to get coffee.

When we get to Wal-Mart, I am surprised to see Lisa there with Margie. She has driven up from Anchorage. She leaves her car in the parking lot and gets into ours. She wants to get coffee, too.

Tony the baristo. He is new. I have never seen him before. I wish him well, and tell him how to find this blog, so that he can see his picture.

Lisa and Jim. (Lisa wants it to be clear that the face poking out from her shirt is Joe Biden's - not John McCains.)

Our backyard. As dusk settled in, it began to snow.

In the woodstove, birch logs become heat. We used to cut all our own wood, but then I no longer had time for it. Now we buy. Just two winters ago, $100 a cord. Now, $200 - and, I tell you, those cords looked to me to be less than a cord used to be.

I am quite certain of it.

As she watches Desperate Housewives, Lavina gets herself some sherbert. Kalib wants some.

Kalib got some. I wanted some, too. I didn't get any. That bowl was the last of the sherbert.

Jacob tosses Kalib around.