Kalib frolics through a Family Restaurant breakfast

Saturday was another such morning. I could not bear to cook so off we went to Family Restaurant - Kalib, Caleb, Jacob and I. Lavina had to work and Margie did not want to struggle with her crutches.

After we arrived, Kalib strolled in with great confidence. I felt so proud of him.

He studied the sugar packets, then picked up the salt shaker.

The table needed salt, so he salted it. Then he picked up a little creamer. I looked down at my menu.

Suddenly, I felt the creamer that Kalib had just picked up bounce off my forehead. In a state of shock, I looked up just in time to see him pick up the sugar packet that he grips. It was about to bounce off my forehead, too.

My pride only increased. What an arm! What control! What accuracy! 

Soon, it will be a baseball that bounces off my head.

I hope I survive.

Next, Kalib studies literature.

The food is slow in coming. Kalib grows fussy.

Dad calms Kalib down. Outside, happy diners, their bellies already stuffed with eggs, laugh their way past.

Kalib ordered a milkshake. He indulges.

Kalib offers Dad a taste of milkshake. Dad indulges.

Dad feeds eggs to Kalib.

Kalib studies some human interaction that takes place outside.

Kalib and his dad finish before I do. They go outside to play.

Kalib sees Caleb and runs to the window, places his hand upon it and leaves a palm, finger and thumb print. Caleb places his hand over it.

Then it is time to go. A bus boy cleans up our table.

Horses, coffee and the odd fact that photojournalists are getting put out of work by the rapid proliferation of photography

I have so much to do and I am so far behind that I thought about working right through my afternoon coffee break, but when 4:00 o'clock came, I knew that I would be basically sitting at my computer for another ten hours or so. I simply could not stand the thought and so went out and bought a cup from Carmen.

As I drank it, I took the long way home. After I crossed the bridge over the Little Su and drove past the place where people stop to pray, I was surprised to see these horses, galloping hard. I rolled down my window, shoved my pocket camera out and, hoping to get it in position to peek over the bushes and a bit above the fence, raised it as high as I could and pointed in a direction that I hoped would catch the horses, and then I shot.

There is a little motion blur, but you know what? I don't really care. The horses were in motion going one way, my car was in motion going in the opposite direction (and no, I was not traveling at all fast and there was no other traffic anywhere in sight in any direction and I did not take my eye off the road any longer then you take yours off it when look over your shoulder to change lanes) and so a little motion blur is appropriate, I think.

This, by the way, is Carmen, who sold me the coffee. She is the owner of the new Metro Cafe that I showed you in yesterday's post. It is a family operation.

If I would have had more time, I would have went inside, taken more pictures, and had Carmen tell me the story of what led she and her family to buy out the old dog wash and build the Metro Cafe, but my 96 page project waited for me at home.

And horses. Horses were waiting for me, too. I did not know and neither did they, but they were waiting for me to come at just that moment. No other moment would have worked, so I had to get the coffee and go.

The coffee was superb. I mean superb. Better than yesterday. Better than any coffee I have had for awhile. I only ordered 8 oz. "I have to cut back," I told Carmen.

"Oh no! Not now!" she exclaimed.

Speaking of horses, my very favorite photographic blog is Lens: Photography, Video and Visual Journalism, published by the New York Times. Yesterday, they ran a story and photo series by Kenneth Jarecke titled: Essay: Cowboys and Photojournalists.

The images come from an excellent photo essay on the Montana State Fair in Billings that Jarecke shot.

The word essay was built on the premise was that there was a period in US history that lasted about 20 years during which what we think of as the American cowboy really existed. Yet, more than a century has now passed since that time and the real cowboy is no more, but people still dress like cowboys, still rodeo, still eat and raise beef and keep the notion alive.

And just as the real cowboy disappeared, Mr. Jarecke proposes, the heydey of what we called photojournalism, best exemplified by Life, a time when hard working Photojournalists could not only travel and document the world but get paid a living income to do so is fading away.

Yet, people are taking more photos then ever, putting more pictures before the public then ever, in places like this blog. It's just that it is getting more and more difficult for anyone to make a living doing so. So much content is free, so many photographers now put their work out there for free that it makes life very tough for the working photojournalist.

Anyway, I left a comment on the blog. It makes a statement that resembles something that I have been wanting to say here for awhile, so I'm just going to paste it in:

I did part of my growing up in Montana and for awhile I wanted to be a cowboy. But after studying Montana’s history for awhile, I came to understand that the cowboy had come too late and had been an instrument of destruction of what had been good about Montana and that the drover sitting on the horse working for a rich man had not only taken the freedom from the land, but had already lost his freedom. So I decided that I wanted to a mountain man and live in the mountains with the Indians, but this was impossible, for that life had also ended.

Still in pursuit of the dream, I became a photojournalist in Alaska where I have been fortunate to hang out with Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut peoples and to document slices of their lives.

But awhile back, I realized that everything was crumbling around me, due to this digital world that I love so much. Thus I decided to start my own blog and to blindly move forward into what I did not know.

So far, the effort has been fun but not the least bit successful. I lack both the time and funds to do the blog right, because I still have to make a living and the blog actually gets in the way of this. But still, I forge on, believing that sometime before I am utterly destroyed I will find the answer.

I have additional thoughts to add to this, but right now I lack the time. I've got to get back to work so I can feed my cats. Not just these two, Chicago and Royce - who, as you can see, greeted me with great enthusiasm when I stepped back through the door - but Jimmy, Pistol-Yero and Martigne.

Technically, Martigne is Jacob, Lavina and Kalib's cat, but she chows down with them all. Sometimes, Muzzy does, too.

I will return to the subject another day, maybe tomorrow. Maybe later.

PS: I have had a bit of an empty feeling in me all day today, and it is because of the death of Senator Kennedy. I have been fortunate enough to have met and photographed him a couple of times in my career and I wanted to run one of those photos here in his honor. But I took them well before the digital age began. 

They are on negatives somewhere, and I have absolutely no idea where. I did a "Kennedy" search in my computer, because it seems like I might have scanned one of those images a decade or so ago, but if I did, it is not any harddrive currently attached to my computer.

It was a hairy fellow who first cultivated coffee: Images from breakfast, my bike ride (that's so Wasilla!) and my afternoon break

It was another one of those mornings when I woke up and simply could not bear the thought of cooking oatmeal, one of those days that I felt like I just had to start out of the house, somewhere else. I knew Margie would not want to come and hobble in on her crutches, but I asked her anyway, just in case, but she didn't.

She wanted to sit on the couch and eat Cheerio's.

So, I made certain that she had her Cheerio's and then I headed off to Family Restaurant to have a Denve - 0h Man! I just heard my email "ping," so I went to check and it was a "breaking news" notice from the Anchorage Daily News. Senator Ted Kennedy is dead! Damnit! We need him, now. We really do.

Anyway, there was a table in the corner and I took it, so nobody could shoot me in the back. And this little boy turned around and looked at me. 

He made me think of Kalib, who had long since left for daycare.

As I ate, this man walked past my red Ford Escape, carrying a cup of what I believe to be coffee, although it might have been hot chocolate, for all I know, or tea. It might have even been gasoline, because maybe he had an old 1950 Ford that wouldn't start and he needed to prime the engine. But I am pretty certain it was coffee. I suspect it was black. Unless he was taking it to his wife. Then, perhaps, it had cream in it, and Splenda.

There I am, stereotyping. Maybe he likes cream and sugar and his wife likes it black.

What an assumption on my part.

Perhaps he does not have a wife. Perhaps he lives alone with three cats.

And then again, he might not even like cats. He might live with a dog, a poodle.

Or five hamsters, three goldfish and a pet rattlesnake.

Perhaps he lives with a chimpanzee, and he is taking the coffee to the chimp.

Chimps are known to be big coffee drinkers.

In fact, coffee was first cultivated by chimps.

Not everybody knows this, but it is a true fact.

Two other men pass by my Escape on their way into Family. I believe that they were coming in to buy a bowl of oatmeal for their elephant.

Personally, I don't think one bowl would be enough.

And elephants like bananas, too.

So I hope they bought a lot of bananas.

All right, now I am no longer at Family, but am riding my bike. Don't ask me to explain the above. How would I know?

It's just the normal, everyday kind of thing that one sees here in Wasilla, Alaska.

As Melanie would say, "that's so Wasilla!"

"You have a pretty dog!" I shout at the lady as I pedal past.

"Thank you!" she responds.

"What's the dog's name?" I shout louder, as they fall further behind me.

"Sarah," she screams, just before I go out of hearing range.

So there you have it - Sarah the Dog.

It never ends. It just never ends. Everyday, more of Wasilla falls away.

I spot a calico cat. The calico cat spots me. 

When I get back home, I find Kalib working on his bike. He has been riding 20 to 30 miles every day. He has lost weight. I want to lose weight, too. Well, today's ride should surely help.

Now I am in my car, late in the afternoon, on my coffee break. This is where I bought it - a brand new place called Metro Cafe, where they park cute cars outside. There used to be a dog wash here, but the owners sold out and the new ones tore it down and built this place.

They don't serve breakfast, though. If they did, I wouldn't have gone to Family this morning. I would have walked right in, sat down and ordered eggs, because its always fun to try breakfast at a new place.

They do have a drive through window, so this afternoon I tried it out. The coffee was excellent. Unfortunately for me, I bought an apple fritter to go with it. It was big and sweet and when I discovered this, I told myself I would only eat a small fraction of it but once I started I couldn't stop and so I ate the whole thing and there went all the good that I had done for myself on the bicycle ride.

I finish this day fatter than I began it.

On March 20, a big rain fell in Wasilla; Margie's latest orthopedic visit; contemplative barista

Not March 20, 2009, but March 20, 2006. It was a really big rain, the biggest that I ever saw in Wasilla. I wondered how high the Little Su had risen, so I drove down and saw that the Schrock Road bridge was under water - the road must be at least 15 feet over the river on a normal day, maybe even more than that.

Now it was under water. But the water over the road didn't look to be too deep, so I drove across. A bit later, I drove back. That was when these kids came pedalling toward me. The bridge is a ways around the bend behind them.

They enjoyed the flood. I enjoyed their enjoyment.

This morning, I had to drive Margie in for her latest checkup. Dr. Black took a look at her knee. He said for her to keep doing as she has been doing, and scheduled her for physical therapy, beginning August 28. 

Little Miller's, just before 5:00 PM, where I just ordered a mocha frappe. I wonder what she was thinking about?

The wedding - setting the stage, part 2: the chefs

You are looking at a master chef. Absolutely. I cannot remember what this pancake-like bread was called, but I would soon eat some for my breakfast, not with syrup, but dipped in various sauces, all flavored by Indian spices.

Oh, my! So delicious! We would be fed two meals at the wedding, breakfast and dinner. Try to find such superb Indian cuisine anywhere among all the fine restaurants in New York City, San Francisco, Washington, D.C. ... I'm not saying it can't be done, maybe it can, but I have yet to sample it.

Were these guys to bring their magic to the right place in the US, what a success they could become!

How grand it would be if that place could be Wasilla!

Do you get the idea that I liked their cooking?

Preparing the food, # 1.

Preparing the food, # 2.

A culinary artisan.

Culinary artisans at work.

Cabbage in the process of being transformed.

Master strolls through his domain.

The cutting and chopping crew.

Head man of the cutting and chopping crew.

Three artisans with coconuts.

Breakfast still life.

Come breakfast time, the cutters become servers. Before you, you see my dish, but it is not a dish, it is a banana leaf. There is more food coming - much more. Being a mannerdly person, I will eat my breakfast with my bare right hand and so it will become very difficult to take any more pictures until I finish and wash my hands.

And the coffee! I miss it already.

Now, please note the quality of light that seeps through the windows, the softness yet contrast as light plays against shadow. I was thrilled to find such light and to be able to work with it. It was exactly what I wanted to have throughout the entire wedding, and I looked forward to having a good time with that light as it played off Soundarya and Anil and all that happened around them.

But, as it would turn out, I would have little opportunity beyond what you see here to make use of this light. With a few small exceptions, this would be it. 

In my next "setting the stage" post, you will find out why.