His heart broken, the two left-footed man sets out for New York City

Doubtless, you have heard about those wild, savvy, Alaskans who have such a deep knowledge of the land and environment that to them to look at a track in the snow is just like reading a book. If one knows how to read it, each track tells stories to the knowledgeable that will completely escape the average person.

I am pleased to announce that I am such an Alaskan. And yesterday, as I walked, I read novel upon novel in the tracks that other wanderers had left behind in the snow.

For example, you have heard about the famous person who has two left feet. Yesterday, I discovered that this is not just a figure of speech to describe a clumsy person who stumbles over himself when he tries to dance.

There really is a person with two left feet and he lives right here in Wasilla. Here are the actual prints left behind by his two left feet as he set out to walk to New York City.

Clearly, as indicated by the dipthong in the upper indentation of the right left foot, he is going to New York City. To understand why, just look at the asperance right smack in the middle of the left left foot.

Two days ago, his cat left him and moved in with a neighbor. He is heartbroken. He believes that once he gets to New York City, the cat will come to her senses and join him there.

But only if he walks. If he flies, the cat won't give a damn. Only by walking all the way through cold and misery does he believe that he can demonstrate to the cat the depth of the love that he feels for her.

It's all right there - in the tracks left behind by his two left feet.

When the dog who has been loyal to the man with two left feet for the past 30 years discovered that his human had left, he set out to find him.

Unfortunately, as you can see, the dog is going in the wrong direction. Instead of New York, the dog is headed towards Hong Kong. Not only does the dog have a long walk ahead of him, but a long swim, too. Perhaps if the dog had the legendary canine sense of smell, the dog would know. But this dog lost its ability to smell - even though, by hell, the dog does smell - during an unfortunate sniffing accident that it suffered as a pup.

It is sad, because the dog will search and search and search the streets of Hong Kong and will never find his man. He will find a friendly lady who will give him refuge every night and feed him hamburgers every morning - just before he goes out to search in vain again.

As for the double-left-footed man, he will find only disappointment in New York City. His cat will never follow him there. He will spend the rest of his days living in the subway, playing his accordian as passersby drop nickels, dimes, and quarters into his upside down baseball cap - the one emblazoned with a picture of a moose and the word, "Wasilla."

Sometimes, I wish that I did not know how to read tracks so well.

Sometimes, the stories are just too heart-breaking.

I saw a boy, walking down the road, leaving his own stories to trail behind him. I moved along, without bothering to read.

Margie and I went out for a drive, but this guy made us stop.

This from India:

I will explain nothing, except to identitfy the location as the temple cut into stone at Mamallapuram. I will leave the larger story to your imagination.

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Kalib and Jobe visit via pixel; a single study of the young writer, Shoshana; Carmen froze in Arizona; moose in the road; elephants in the road

I have not seen these two, Jobe and Kalib, for over a week now. Lavina is pretty good at sending pix to me over the phone. I always show them to Margie. She always likes them.

For those who might have read my entry three days ago about my dream of Jobe and the grizzly bears but who may not have read all the comments, here is the one left by Lavina:

"Wow, that intense, I got chills thinkn about it! But Jobe is of the Bear clan on his Apache side so maybe that's why they befriended him b/c he's one of them...I'll give hugs to Jobe for you."

As soon as I read this comment, I went into the house, grabbed Margie, dragged her out here into my office and had her read it.

She was startled, and pleased.

"Yes!" she of the Bear Clan said. "I didn't even think of that."

And neither did I.

That's Lavina - always in tune.

Study of the Young Writer, Shoshana - this from two or three days ago. I had not planned to do any more studies of Shoshana for maybe another week, at least a few more days, but her earrings caught my eye.

Here I am, on my way to Metro again, as this kid shoots by in the opposite direction. It is Monday, January 10. Carmen has been gone on vacation since Christmas. She is supposed to be back to work today. Will she be?

She is! Elisabeth tells her I am at the drive through window. We are all happy to see each other.

"How was Arizona?" I ask her.

"Freezing!" she answers. "Cold. It was so cold, Bill! I couldn't get warm. I was cold all the time. You must bring Margie by. I must ask her about this."

It was cold everywhere she went, she says, including Phoenix and Scottsdale.

They did not take any warm clothing with them because, after all, they were going to Arizona from Alaska.

She folds her arms and draws them tight against her body, as if she is trying to conserve the heat that she lost down in Arizona. She looks like she is about to shiver.

"It was cold, Bill," she says. "Freezing cold."

 Back out on the road, this moose crossed in front of me. I could have been forced to hit my brakes and to slide all over the place, maybe right into the moose, but I was watching out for it before it ever showed itself.

I just knew that a moose was going to pop up right around here.

I felt certain of it.

Sometimes, you just know these things.

Sometimes you don't.

Then you are more likely to hit the moose.

It happened again this morning. I got to sleep somewhere between two and three am, woke up a few times and then could not sleep a wink past 5:15. Still, I stayed in bed with the covers over my head, two cats laying on me and another tucked in close to my side until Family Restaurant opened.

Then I went, sat down, was served breakfast and all the coffee that I could drink and I drank too much. I photographed myself in the window. I noticed this morning that the amount of gray or white in my hair seems to have increased by at least four-fold over what it was just this past fall.

Maybe it was the mirror and the way the light hits it. Maybe if I look in another mirror, I will see that I have not gained all this gray, after all.

I need to get my hair cut and my beard and mustache trimmed.

Wouldn't everybody be surprised if one day I just shaved my beard and mustache completely off. They would really be surprised. Nobody has seen my like that for over a quarter century. I bet my face would be really pale, and shiny.

If I were ever to do something like that, I would grow the beard back real quick.

If I didn't, I would have to shave everyday. To me, it just makes no sense to waste time shaving every day.

And these two from India

We drove through two national parks where wild elephants hang out, and both times it was after dark. But every now and then, an elephant would appear in the headlights of our taxi.

People passing through the parks are required to stay in their cars. They cannot get out and go roam around. One can only hike in the parks with a permit.

My nephew, Ganesh, Soundarya's brother, knows how to get these permits and has promised to one day take me hiking out there, among the elephants.

When she saw the elephants, Soundarya shrieked with joy. There is more to this story, of course. There always is.

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We get our Christmas shopping done early; Todd - met at Carr's; Melanie gets the blessing of an elephant

We had no milk for oatmeal, so I didn't cook any. Instead, I sat down right here at my computer and started to work on pictures. Then Margie came in and wondered what we should do about Christmas shopping. "Well," I answered, "we're out of milk so we might as well go to breakfast and then see if we can get some shopping done."

She agreed. I remote started the car, let it warm up for about 15 minutes. It was still very chilly inside and the seats were like solid blocks of ice, but we climbed into the car and headed for Mat-Su Valley Family Restaurant. As we neared, this raven passed over the car.

"This guy is really annoying," Margie told Connie, our waitress, as I took this picture. Connie did not agree, but she laughed politely so that Margie would think she did.

I believe that I may have ranted about this before, and I probably will again, but this is one of the great ironies of my life as a photographer. It is only in recent years - pretty much since grandkids began to enter our lives - that Margie has tolerated me taking photographs of her at all.

True, I did manage to get a few in here and there, mostly when the children were somehow involved, but fundamentally, I, who am possessed with genuine passion to photograph anything and everything, found myself with this exceptionally gorgeous and beautiful wife and everyday that we were together I would look upon her and I would want to photograph her and everyday she would refuse to be photographed.

Be assured, I still find her beautiful - sometimes so much so that it makes me ache just to look at her. She now has the beauty of an aging woman who has weathered much in life, suffered many hurts and disappointments but has created a family that loves and adores her.

Each one of us loves and adores her.

Back when we were first married, she possessed a different kind of beauty - exquisite physical beauty of the most desirous kind - her hair so deep black, long and wavy against her lovely brown skin, her eyes radiant, dancing with fun and mischief - and I, the artist, who looked upon her every day, was not allowed to document this beauty - except on rare occassions, almost always involving children.

The only exception that I can think of is this one, which I posted on Mother's Day last.

I cannot remember how I persuaded her to pose that day, but, even though she relented, if you click the link and look at the picture, you will see that she was not happy about it.

And now, as the years and decades push those days of youthful beauty ever farther back, I sometimes long to look at the photos of my beautiful, young, wife. I long to show the photos to her children, her grandchildren and say to them, "see how beautiful she was? She had a host of would be suitors and yet she chose, short, awkward, shy, socially inept, me and together we made you."

But those pictures do not exist. I cannot look at them; I cannot show them to anybody.

If all the people who I have photographed over the years would have reacted to my camera the way she did, I would have utterly failed as a photographer. I would probably be selling newspapers on the street somewhere, because there's nothing else I could have done.

Our first stop was at Meta Rose Square, home of All I Saw Cookware. Get it. "All I Saw?" "Wasilla" backwards? Was-i-lla?

We parked right next to this car. I am not quite certain why some guys feel compelled to emblazon their vehicles in this manner. To attract attention, I guess.

In my case, it didn't work. I didn't even notice. I didn't notice at all. I walked away without even giving it a sideways glance.

I am not quite sure why, but, as we walked through Meta Rose, I found myself wondering why I had to grow up Mormon; I was sort of a cowboy, once, briefly, but a Mormon sort of cowboy and it wasn't like this.

Inside the store, we came upon this piggy bank. As piggy banks always do, this one transported my mind back to Pendleton, Oregon, when I was five years old. My mom had taken me downtown to go shopping and when we came to JC Penney's, there was a red, plastic, piggy bank in the window. Or maybe it was the window of a bank. Or perhaps Woolworth's. Whatever window it was, the pig on the other side was wearing a little hat.

I wanted that piggy bank. I wanted it badly.

Mom had grown up very hard in the Depression and was against all spending that was in any way frivolous. And a piggy bank was frivolous. One could make a very fine bank from an empty Morton's salt box, or a band-aid can.

She did not understand that it was not that I wanted a bank - I wanted the little red pig with the hat on its head, but in the name of frugality I was denied this item that maybe cost 25 cents. I never did get a piggy bank. I kept my coins in Morton salt boxes and bandaid cans. And every time I would go into a store and see a piggy bank, I longed to have it.

Then, when I became a young man, a curious thing happened. I would go into a store, see a piggy bank and feel the same longing. So I would buy the piggy bank.

I bought all kinds of piggy banks. It became a waste of money. There was no place to put all these piggy banks. At the Alaska State Fair, I even found a little red plastic one, wearing a hat - made from the very same mold as the one that I had been denied in the first place.

Finally, I had to get rid of most of those piggy banks.

As for the ones I kept - I don't even know where they are now - not even the little red plastic one.

When I saw this one yesterday, I wanted to buy it - not as a gift but for me.

But I didn't. I resisted temptation and moved on.

I am not going to show you what Margie is holding in her hand, because it might be a gift for someone. It might not be, but if it is, I would not want to spoil the surprise.

Out in the hall, a little boy took a ride on giant duckling.

We left the store with two days to go. This is the earliest we have ever done our shopping. Especially me. I am usually in a store at closing time on Christmas Eve, buying ceramic roosters, things like that.

Next we went to Fred Meyer's, where a raven sat upon a pole. You can't tell it in this tiny window, but that raven has its head cocked to one side. It looks very "Chooo 'weet."

Margie checks out some socks as gifts for grandkids. When I was small, it was such a great disappointment to open up a gift only to find socks. I wanted toys!

Now, this looks like a gift that a little boy could like! At least if his name is Kalib Hess. But then Kalib already has a spatula. What would he do with another?

I suppose this must be adorable, but personally, I found it to be just a little bit eery and frightening, somewhat macabre.

Then we happened upon a very cute scene - the two month old puppy, Brisa, held in the warm embrace of her human, Sierra.

Although we had eaten breakfast out, we found ourselves feeling hungry again. So we drove past the little cove at the west end of Wasilla lake, looking for hotdogs.

We found two hotdogs - both at Dairy Queen.

Dairy Queen has good hot dogs - especially the foot-longs. To all those from out of town who wonder whether or not they should come and visit Wasilla - come. If nothing else, for the Dairy Queen hot dogs.

They will taste just the same as the Dairy Queen hot dogs in your town, if you are an American.

So you will feel right at home - even if our little city is a bit more odd than yours. Which, trust me, it will be.

The view from Dairy Queen as I eat my hot dog. How come these guys are still up here in the north?

Late in the evening, Margie and I headed to Carr's, to buy turkeys and other food for Christmas dinner. Just as we reached the turkeys, this fellow stopped me. "Are you the guy who does the Wasilla 300 blog?" he asked.

Indeed, I am.

He told me that we disagree politically, but that he loves the blog - especially some of the stories that I do in Rural Alaska. He said that he has been looking out for me as he moves around town.

"Wasilla is a small town," he said. "I knew we would cross paths some day."

And there she is, my Margie, checking out the turkeys. We bought two 16 pounders.

And this one from India:

Remember the scorpion from yesterday? Photographed at, as Cawitha refreshed my memory with the name that just always flees my brain, Hampi?

I took this picture approximately 100 yards away from the place where I took that one.

It is Melanie, about to be blessed by an elephant. A "chooo 'weet" elephant.

For those who did not read the comments left on yesterday's post, one was left by Cawitha, Soundarya's cousin.

Yesterday, I speculated how Sandy might have reacted if I could have showed her the photo of the scorpion, and that was with the word, "Chooo'weet! I added that there was one element in the photo that would likely have disturbed her - namely, that the string had been tied to the scorpion's stinger.

Cawitha agreed, and took it one step further. She imagined Sandy not looking at the picture but being there at Hampi with us:

"Am sure Soundarya (Sandy) would have said "Chooo 'weet" and if she were to see this she would have ensured the arthropod was set free. She was the most compassionate person."

Thank you, Cawitha. I am certain that is exactly what Sandy would have done. And no matter how tough a guy the individual walking the scorpion might have imagined himself to be, he would have had to back down to her, just as did the vet who at first refused to treat the raven that she saved with Anil's help.

Cawitha, btw, has been my friend since the day that Sandy wed Anil. Like Margie, Cawitha does not like to be photographed and so that day asked me to please not take her picture. I didn't, unless maybe as part of the crowd, so I cannot show you what she looks likes. 

However, we are committed to one day going "trekking" together, perhaps in the Himalayas, perhaps in Alaska, maybe both. I expect that then, I will get her picture.

I can't be postive, but I think so.

Now, contrast this picture to yesterday's. Everything is turned around. It is the animal who is huge and powerful, the person who is small and relatively weak - especially because this person does not have the protection of a poisonous stinger.

But the elephant is gentle. The elephant blesses my daughter with its strength. The elephant does not harm her. And when the elephant laid the end of its heavy and powerful trunk upon my daughter's head, so powerful that it could easily have wrapped it around her neck and broken it, it felt like a blessing to her. 

As it did to me, when the elephant blessed me.

This was the second elephant in India to bless me.

No, I do not worship elephants. But this does not mean that I cannot appreciate being blessed by one.

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I stop at Mocha Moose, happen upon a bust on Wasilla Main Street and then photograph a polar bear that is about to travel to India

As I pulled up to the drive-through at Mocha Moose for my afternoon coffee break, I could hear Carmen's voice in my head, "Bill! Bill! Don't you go switching coffee houses on me while I'm gone!" As already stated, Carmen has shut down the Metro Cafe, all the way through the weekend.

When I pull up to her window Monday, Carmen will ask where I went while she was gone. I will tell her, "Mocha Moose." She will scold, "Bill! Bill! no, Bill!" and she will get a distressed look on her face.

I know this, because she always closes on Sunday and when I stop by on Monday, the conversation goes pretty much as stated above.

But, when the coffee you love is gone, you've got to love the coffee you can get.

Wasn't this the theme of an old rock-and-roll song?

There were three cars ahead of me when I pulled in and took the first picture. Now, there are two cars ahead of me and so I shoot the scene from where I stop again. That is Lindsey on the other side of the window and she will soon prepare an Americano for me.

Now there is only one car ahead of me. The people in the back seat of that car are watching an animated film on a tiny, flip-down screen. Lindsey serves them whatever it was they ordered.

Now Lindsey brings me my Americano. She gives the New Year a thumbs up. Optimism is good. I hope she is right.

Sorry, Carmen - but what was I to do?

As I prepare to drive away, three boys run across the parking lot. They seem to be having a good time. I remember when I was that age and would be running like this. It was usually because we were in some kind of trouble, or that we were happily imagining that we were.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not implying anything about these kids. I'm just remembering how we were, at the same age.

Three blocks away from Mocha Moose, on Wasilla's famous Main Street, I saw that the police had something going on. It was obviously not a routine traffic stop. It looked to be a bust of some kind. What I was most impressed about, though, was the amount of daylight that still lingered in the sky.

It was about 4:20 PM. We are only 12 days past solstice, and look how the light is already on the increase! It kind of gave me a feeling of impending spring.

That is a false feeling, and sometimes when people in Alaska get that feeling too early and then realize that it was all a lie, they go a little crazy. Sometimes, they go a lot crazy. Bad things can happen then.

They call it, "cabin fever."

Vidya Dixit, one of my nieces in India, stopped by on Facebook today for a chat. Whenever we get together, in person or online, we chat about animals. She was very worried about this polar bear, Nanuq. Vidya loves animals - even more than people, she says. I have seen her accept a blessing from an elephant. She has a beautiful daughter named Vaidehi, who is just a tiny bit younger than Kalib.

How fun it would be, to photograph Kalib and Vaidehi together!

Vidya is not in a situation right now where she can have any kind of animal living with her - not a cat, not a dog, not a mouse. She can look out the window and see a monkey now and then, but she cannot invite it into the family's living quarters.

So I told her I would send her a polar bear. "Really, Uncle? Really?" she queried.

I then took a quick trip to Barrow, went out on the ice and convinced this one to come back with me so I could send him to her, but in the insane rush that is my life, coupled with the insane crowd that filled the Post Office as Christmas approached, I never managed to send Nanuq off.

Today, I promised her that I will on Monday. She then insisted that I send her a picture of Nanuq tonight.

So, Good Niece Vidya, here is your polar bear. He will be coming soon. I know Chennai can get extremely hot, even though you are right by the sea. Please keep a block of ice for him to hang out on. I do not want him to melt.

On cool days, take him down to the beach and see if maybe a seal will come to him.

Nanuq loves seals.

I was about to go to bed when it suddenly occurred to me that if I were to type, "Vidya" into my computer's search engine, I might find a picture of her being blessed by that elephant. So I typed and I found. It is at a temple in Bangalore, less than a block away from the home of Murthy and Vasanthi, the parents of Vivek, who is married to my niece, Khena, daughter of my sister, Mary Ann. Vidya is married to Vijay, brother of Vivek.

I took this image in August of 2007, just days after the wedding of Vivek and Khena.

It's funny - when I look at this image now, I feel like I should just be able to close my eyes, open them up in India, walk out the door and go down the street to this place.

There are so many places that I have such feelings about.