UK coffee treat; a shadow, biking through the shadows

When I pulled up to the drive through window at Metro Cafe yesterday afternoon and went to pull my wallet out, Elizabeth told me to put it back. Carmen had received a letter with a purchase order for a Metro punch card from Martin Garrod of the UK.

Carmen came out and read the letter. It was a very nice letter. She said she will make me a copy of it.

Here is Elizabeth, bringing me my coffee as Carmen talks with Martin on the phone... I jokes! I do not know who Carmen was talking to.

Thank you, Martin! It was a big and welcome surprise and the coffee was excellent.

Martin sometimes leaves a comment after a post.

I feel rather bad about comments right now, as it has always been my intent to keep up a daily dialogue with those who leave comments, but my days are so packed and I am always so far behind schedule that most days I just let the comments stand for themselves, without responding to them.

I hope that sometime in the future I can do better.

Be assured, I appreciate all comments that are left here.

If everything had gone according to my plan, I would be hanging out at Era Aviation in Deadhorse right now, waiting for the airplane that I had expected to take me to Kaktovik where I was scheduled to land at 3:45 this afternoon.

However, an order for pictures that must be delivered before I can leave came in yesterday and it involves some searching and lot of sorting, editing, and processing. I thought I could get it all done by 1:00 AM and then get a little bit of sleep and make my 9:30 AM flight out of Anchorage, but I couldn't. So I postponed my trip to Kaktovik by one more day - except that tomorrow I leave on the 6:30 AM flight, which means I must get up about 4:00 and that is going to be tough - but my scheduled arrival is 10:30 AM and that will give me most of the day to get a little work done.

Late at night, I got on bike and went shadow biking.

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Margie and I drop in to Metro Cafe - she drives on to Anchorage, I walk home; boy takes precarious seat overlooking the temple and the sea

Jacob and Lavina had something to do Monday night, so they called and asked if Margie could come in to babysit and stay for the night.

This meant that I would be without a car. So we agreed that Margie and I would leave together at coffee break time, we would stop at Metro Cafe, go inside, enjoy a cup and cinnamon roll together and then she would drive on to Anchorage and I would walk back home.

So here is Elizabeth, seen not through the window from the outside, but from the inside, preparing our coffees.

And here is Elizabeth serving one of those coffees. As you can tell by the punch card lying on the counter, the coffees this day still came courtesy of the generous reader in North Carolina. Even with a card, I still lay down cash for the tip.

In past posts, I have lamented about the ironic fact that when we were young and she possessed all of her exceptionally exquisite youthful, beauty, Margie would almost always refuse to let me photograph her. Most of the exceptions involved the kids also being in the picture. 

As I have pointed out, Now that we have grandkids, she has somewhat relaxed about it - especially if the grandkids are in the pictures. No grandkids were with us at Metro, but she did tolerate a photo. As you can see, "tolerate" is the exact right word.

And then my eye got distracted and my lens pulled away from her beautiful face by this four-wheeling guy and his dog, as they whizzed by. The dog is kind of hard to see, but if you look close, maybe you can find it. If you can't see it here and it is important enough to you, you can try again in slide show view.

It's really not all that important and I won't feel bad if you don't.

Inside the Metro Cafe, Carmen study, #13,496: Carmen poses with Margie and me

Were I to take the most direct route home, I would need to walk about two-and-half miles. That route follows two busy roads - Lucille and Seldon streets. I did not want to walk along busy roads al the way home. I wanted solitude. So I chose a route that would add about one mile, but in which I could find more solitude.

Even that route started out on a busy road, Spruce Street, which is where I walk right here.

Two ravens flew over as I walked down Spruce Street.

In 2002 or 2003, not long after I had made the leap from film to digital cameras, I managed to purchase a bulky, professional, Canon 1D camera body that shot an 11 mp image - the highest resolution available at the time - for just under $8,000. Funny - that I could manage such a purchase then, but now that I am more established and better known than ever, it would be impossible.

One morning, as I waited for my next flight during a stopover in Boise, Idaho, a gentleman who was then about the age I am now took note of my camera. He was impressed, his face full of smiles.

"I'll bet that digital photography is great for you," he gushed. "You can make your pictures better than ever - like, if you take a picture and there are powerlines in it, you can take them out."

"I wouldn't do that," I answered. "If there are powerlines there, they are there. They are part of the scene. I won't take them out. That would be a violation of my journalistic ethics."

This really angered and offended him. He became so indignant that his face turned red and his nose damn near popped off. His voice turned sharp, rasp and sputtery.

I tried to tell him that it did not matter to me what he did with his, that I did not apply my ethics to him, but that I was a photojournalist and a documentarian and that it would undermine my credibility if I started removing powerlines, just because I could. If I were doing ads or a different kind of art that is not documentary, an art in which the literal does not matter, then what the hell, it would be okay.

He did not buy this. He felt personally insulted and let me know it.

I imagine that he probably has a digital camera now - assuming that he still lives and is healthy enough to take pictures.

Perhaps he now takes the powerlines out of his pictures. If so, I'll bet that each time he does, he thinks of me and gets to feeling all indignant all over again.

But really, I do not care what he or anyone else does. I will not judge them for it.

As for me, the powerlines are simply just part of the picture.

Life has powerlines.

I continued on. A jet passed in the distance. I got a call from a friend, in tears, to tell me that her aunt had just died. I spoke what words of comfort to her that I could.

I walked on in solitude. As darkness slowly deepened, I passed beneath a street lamp and it cast my shadow before me. If it appears that there is a spirit accompanying me, then I must note that it is only a scuff on the trail left by someone who gunned their snowmachine right here and spun the track as they drove over this spot.

Yet, this does not mean that a spirit could not have been walking with me, or perhaps gliding along beside me. If the thought should frighten anyone, let me assure you, that spirit would have been a good one. Troubled, perhaps, but good. Simply, fundamentally, purely - good.

I don't know about spirits - if they truly exist or if they are just a creation of the human mind, a fiction, a survival mechanism to help us bear that which does not seem to be bearable. Yet, if spirits do not exist, then why do I so often seem to feel a spiritual presence? In something so simple, perhaps, as a sudden, unexpected, solitary, gust of wind in my face, at just the right moment?

And this one from India

A youth took a somewhat precarious seat overlooking the Mamallapuram temple grounds and the Bay of Bengal and then asked me to take his picture.

So I did.

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Icy roads, horse, another coffee gift; I find Margie watching a speech

A little after noon, as the cat, Chicago and I sat on the couch chill'n, Margie worked on the fire. Look at the intensity of the light coming through the back door window! We have not seen light this intense in quite awhile.

I was late getting to my walk. Not until about 3:00. As I began my way up this icy stretch of road, I saw a car coming towards me. I wonder who was in it? Where were they going? What did they wonder about me?

Immediately after my walk, I headed to Metro, fully prepared and expecting to pay for my own coffee today. But Elizabeth wouldn't let me. Someone in North Carolina had bought, not one, but two, coffee cards for me.

Boy, if this keeps up, I may never have to pay for a cup of Metro coffee again - and all thanks to anonymous blog readers.

Thank you, North Carolina reader.

Carmen was too busy visiting others to come to the window, but she did post for a through the Metro window study with this lady, whose name I forget, but I do remember that she teaches a sewing class.

Through the Metro Window Study, # 11,213: Carmen and the Sewing Class Teacher, Elisabeth busy in the foreground

As I prepared to drive out of the Metro parking lot, I saw the moon, over the trees.

On I drove, sipping my coffee, eating my cinnamon roll. When I came to this stretch of road, I thought to myself, "hmmmmm... this looks like a place where there might be horses up ahead."

What do you think, reader? Could I possibly have been correct? Could there be horses ahead?

Sure enough, there was. If you don't believe me, here's proof. How could I have known such a thing? The horses must have whispered it to me on the wind, which continues to blow.

On my way home. I had thought that I would listen to the President's speech at the Memorial Service for the shooting victims in Tucson, but it was not on the radio.

When I stepped back into the house, I found Margie watching the speech on TV. I sat down beside her. Right after I did, President Obama announced that Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords had opened her eyes. The TV camera zoomed in on First Lady Michelle Obama and Gifford's husband, astronaut Mark Kelly.

And this one from India:

Yesterday, I posted a picture of a young man and a girl standing amidst the ruins of Hampi, in front of a temple with a roof supported by elegant stone columns.

Today, I will take just a little more time so that I can tell you that the structure is called Vittala Temple, was built in the 15th century in honor to Lord Vishnu, and there is something special about those stone columns - music comes from them.

If one taps on the columns, they ring at different pitches. Our timing was not right to hear them, but there are groups of musicians who sometimes gather here and perform musical works on the columns. They do not use their hands as this couple is doing, but wooden mallets that better bring out the sound.

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Moon behind the trees, icy road, free coffee and four studies of Pioneer Peak in the howling wind

As I walked, the half-moon tried to hide behind the trees. It didn't work. I spotted it, anyway.

I bet you can, too.

The wind was howling - I don't know how strong, but very strong. And the road was icy. It was kind of hard to walk, but I needed to walk, so I walked anyway and I never took a fall. I need to get some crampons to put on my shoes.

I used to have some. I don't know what happened to them.

Margie has some, but they don't fit on my shoes.

Off in the distance, a jet flew overhead. Judging from the direction that it was headed, it must have been on its way to Russia.

I suppose it might have landed before it got to Russia.

Or maybe it made a left turn, or even a right one, and then went and flew over the North Pole.

Despite the fierce wind that blew, Ubiquitous Raven came flying by. He was alone, though. I saw no other ravens on this walk. Usually, I see several.

A moose had walked by here, back when the snow was still good.

Other than my walk and coffee break, I spent the whole day right here, over 12 hours, working in my computer with Jimmy always here to help - and Pistol-Yero, too. I met the kitten seen on the screen in India. Sad story. Sad, sad, sad story.

Why did God design life to be like this?

When I arrived at Metro Cafe, Elizabeth handed me my coffee and cinnamon roll and told me that it was already paid for. As usual, she didn't know by whom. A woman, she said, whereas last time it was a man.

I know for certain that Akponygirl has bought me coffee. If this was again from you, thank you. If it was from someone else, then thank you, whoever you are.

I enjoyed it. And I enjoyed the cinnamon roll. Elisabeth cut it in half for me so that I would not eat the whole thing, but I ate the whole thing, anyway.

It's probably for the best. I was going to give the other half to Margie, but she's diabetic and it had a great deal of sugar on it.

Pioneer Peak in the Howing Wind, Study #1: The reason the sky is this color is because the wind, which is fierce, is hurling glacier dust through the air. The reason there is no snow on the ground is because, prior to the big meltdown, the wind, unrestrained here by trees or much of anything, scoured almost all of it away and then the tiny bit that was left melted.

Pioneer Peak in the Howing Wind, Study #2: You can get an idea how windy it was.

Pioneer Peak in the Howing Wind, Study #3: I actually got out of the car to take this one, but I kept getting struck in the face not only by dust but by small pebbles that were traveling with the wind. I feared one might strike me in the eye, or scratch and chip my lens, so I got back into the car pretty quick.

This guy had this in the back of his truck, but it got blown out. Now he is trying to put it back into his truck.

Pioneer Peak in the Howing Wind, Study #4: When Kalib came home from work, he reported that a number of his co-workers, all of whom use this same parking lot, lost car windows on this day, after the wind hurled pebbles into them with enough force to blow them out.

And this one from India:

Among the ruins of Hampi.

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Margie votes; new barista at Metro; my daughters and Charlie join me to visit Ethan Berkowitz, Diane Benson and Scott McAdams; Larry Aiken

Thank you, Margie, for voting. Our candidates lost, all the way across the ballot. But damn, they were the right candidates to vote for and you stood strong for them. It was a pleasure to go to the ballot box with you.

Let's do it again next time.

We cast our ballots during our afternoon coffee break - which, naturally, took us to Metro Cafe. Carmen has a new barista there, by the name of Elizabeth.

Don't worry - Shoshana is still there. Carmen told me that Shoshana had been working hard since very early in the morning, serving all the voters who swung by. Her shift had ended before we got there.

Congratulations on your new job, Elizabeth.

For some reason, you appear a little angelic in this image.

Diane Benson had called me earlier in the day to invite us to what we all hoped would be the Berkowitz/Benson gubernatorial victory party. So come evening, I headed over to the Snow Goose, where I thought she had said the party was going to be held.

At the goose, I found Joe Miller signs and supporters everywhere, but not a one for Berkowitz and Benson. It seemed very odd to me that both campaigns would be celebrating in the same building, but as long as I was there, I asked a Snow Goose employee if by chance the Berkowitz party was also there.

He did not even know who Ethan Berkowitz was.

"You might look upstairs," he said. "Maybe he's up there."

I left, then went outside, pulled out my iPhone and began to see if I could track down the real location.

Soon, I got a text from Lisa. She, Melanie and Charlie were at the Snow Goose, surrounded by Miller people. So I went back and we got together.

We decided to walk down to Snow City Cafe, and see if maybe the party was there.

So here we are at Snow City and, as you can see, it is bustling. There is a party going on. It looks like the kind of party a candidate for governor would throw.

But where is Diane? Where is Ethan?

Here's Diane's son, Latseen, inside Snow City, standing and talking to Tony Vita, Diane's special friend and the man who has in so many ways served as father to him.

"Standing..."

How good it is to see Latseen standing, looking strong and fit.

For those who do not know, Latseen lost both legs to an IED in Iraq.

Here they are, Ethan, Diane and supporters, inside Snow City. For anyone who might not know, that's Ethan Berkowitz at left. The fellow on Diane's right is Jeff Silverman, the filmmaker and producer with whom she did the Elizabeth Peratrovich documentary, For the Rights of All - Ending Jim Crow in Alaska, about the Native struggle for civil rights in Alaska.

That's Nellie Moore to the left. Melanie and Lisa were very happy to meet and talk to her. Nellie is a well known and highly respected public radio journalist and commentator in Alaska, and played an instrumental roll in making National Native News a hit in Indian Country nationwide.

We decided to run over and pay a visit to the McAdams for Senate camp. When we arrived, I was surprised to see that the very first person to greet us was Angela Cox, who readers will recall from the Anaktuvuk Pass wedding of B-III Hopson and Rainey Higbee - Angela's sister.

Angela has been an active campaigner for McAdams and joined a group of other Native youth in making a video promoting his candidacy - and she has been taking an active role in many Native leadership activities, encompassing both tribes and corporations.

I think that she is someone who we will all hear from in the future.

Just a couple of months ago, Scott McAdams was a name that few people knew, even in Alaska. In recent weeks, his name, face and message have become known all across the nation. He has been sought out for interviews by all the major news and propaganda media and, unlike some who have tried to hide and avoid any media that might be all unfriendly, he had the guts to be interviewed even by the biggest and most potent propaganda machine that the world has ever seen - Fox News. 

Part of his message had always been that, "despite the odds, we will win this."

At this moment when he stepped before supporters who had gathered in the hope of hearing a victory speech, the numbers had become clear. He would not win this race.

Before speaking, he paused for a bit, but when he did speak, he did so with strength and eloquence.

He promised those gathered that, whatever the final numbers might be, what they had begun with his campaign would carry on into the future, that a new movement had been born and it is a force to be reckoned with in the future.

Supporters listen to Scott McAdams.

In turn, Melanie and Lisa congratulated McAdams for a campaign well run and let him know they would remain among his supporters. I had hoped to get a picture of the three together in a place with decent light, but there was almost no light in this spot.

Some may wonder why I do not put on a flash at such moments, but, when documenting things, my basic philosophy is that I document events as I see them. If the setting is dark, I am going to leave it dark in the picture. 

A flash casts deceptive light upon the scene.

The lady with the recorder in the background is Ellen Lockyer, reporter for Alaska Statewide News. It always gives me a good feeling to see her on the job, because I have been seeing her on the job, anywhere in the state, for nearly 30 years now.

She keeps going. It gives me that much more hope that I can keep going.

As things continued at the McAdams camp, I hurried back over to the Berkowitz/Benson party. Before I reached the door, I saw Berkowitz doing an interview with Channel 2 as Diane took a break to be with her family.

Shortly after my return, Berkowitz got up to publicly thank his campaign staff and to give a speech. By now, it was clear that his Republican opponent, Sean Parnell, would remain governor. Berkowitz also promised his supporters that the work they had put their heart and life into would continue, and that a better day for Alaska was coming, a day where people of great diversity would all be made welcome at all levels of government and society.

Here, after introducing and saying something positive about all of the campaign staff that stand in front of him, he singled out a man in the crowd.

He said that young man would become well-known in Alaska. I should have written his name down, because I have forgotten it.

I am not even quite certain which young man it was; I think it was the fellow in the green, but I could be wrong.

I was struck by the fact that these people had all come to know each other very well. They had worked hard toward an objective, but the vote had not gone their way.

This caused me to wonder about myself. I could have been out there, slugging away in one, two, or three campaigns, but, politically, despite my convictions, I stayed low key. I justified this by the fact that Margie and I have just been hit too hard these past couple of years. I can afford neither the time or money to get heavily involved in any campaign.

Plus, ultimately, despite my lapses, I see myself as a person, who, sooner or later, must become a conduit to place the images and thoughts of many people - left, right, middle, and scattered - out there.

I can't get too partisan.

And yet, I am partisan.

Diane followed Ethan and spoke to supporters. Emotion overtook her. She paused for just a little bit, then continued on.

After she spoke, Diane received a hug from Mara Kimmel, Ethan's wife.

Karlin Itchoak and Monica Garcia.

I then rushed off to see if I could find Charlie, Melanie and Lisa again. Along with the entire McAdams party, they had ventured to Election Central at the Egan Center. So I headed there, too.

Just ahead of me, I saw these young supporters of Joe Miller doing the same.

As I walked alongside the Egan Center towards the main entrance, I saw that a homeless man had found a quiet place inside, where he could escape the cold and sleep in the warmth.

I wondered what he does, on nights when the Egan is not being used as Election Central?

And how long would he get away with being here on this night? When the candidates and their parties left, would he have to go, too?

Or would someone have already booted him out by then?

I entered, and found an enthusiastic crowd cheering Scott McAdams, but I could not find Charlie, Melanie, and Lisa. So I just started photographing other people.

Suddenly, Melane and Charlie were in front of my camera, smiling, waving a sign and flag.

But where was Lisa?

There she is! When it comes to her politics, Lisa is passionate. She is gung-ho.

Scott McAdams, onstage, cheered on by Lisa, Charlie, Melanie and a host of others.

I could not stay long. My friend, Larry Aiken, had undergone cancer treatment on this day and I had told him I would stop by. I would give him and Mona a ride to the store, to pick up needed supplies. So I headed toward the door, looking for other candidates such as Lisa Murkowski, who appears to be headed for victory in the Senate race, and Joe Miller.

I didn't see either of them, but I did see this group of young Miller supporters. I shot three or four frames.

"That picture will probably be in the paper tomorrow," I heard one of them say to the others as I stepped away to exit through the door. I stopped. "No," I said. "I don't work for the paper." I was trying to think how I might tell them of this blog, but I could think of no quick and easy way to explain it. I need to get some cards made up.

"You'll probably sell the picture and make money," one of them said.

"If I do," I said, certain that I would not be selling the picture, "I'll share the money with you."

Okay, they laughed.

Does someone want to buy a copy of this picture from me? Or perhaps usage rights in a major publication? To hang on a museum wall?

If you do, you will complicate my life, because then I will have to track these kids down and share the money with them. Plus, it would set a bad precedent for me, to pay these kids for having been in my picture. It's hard enough to make a living, already.

So I don't think I will sell this picture to you even if you ask.

Well, if you offered a million, I probably would. That way, I could give the kids a token something and then I could fund this blog, probably for the rest of my life.

When I saw these kids last night, their enthusiasm, their spirit of fun, their commitment to a cause I soundly believe to be wrong and misguided, I found my feelings toward them to be kind. I felt a desire that they find success in life. I want their spirit and enthusiasm to ultimately be rewarded with good things - but not with Joe Miller in the Senate.

Then I drove over, picked Larry and Mona up at their hotel near the Alaska Native Medical Center and drove them to Carr's.

Afterward, I was too exhausted to do anything but drive home. Mona said she would get me a cup of coffee from the hotel. I was going to take a picture of her bringing the coffee back to me but, somehow, I zoned out and then found the coffee in my hand, Mona going back into the hotel.

Thank you, Mona.

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