During my time of hiatus, I took a short walk with Garrison Keillor, we got stopped by baby feet

No, the snow did not suddenly melt, nor did the sun burst up high, bright and warm into the sky. I have gone back to August 28, a date near the end of the six or seven week hiatus I took during the summer. On that day, Garrison Keillor performed at the Alaska State Fair in Palmer. My daughter Melanie, who is always thinking about her parents, bought tickets and treated us to the performance.

I did not come to photograph the performance. I just came to watch and to share the company of my daughter and wife. Of course, I brought a couple of cameras with me, because I always carry a camera or two.

In what at first seemed to be an unfortunate turn of events, Melanie and I got separated from Margie and the crowd pushed us up almost right to the corner that was highest and farthest from the stage.

Margie did find Charlie's mom, Cyndy, and so she had company even though she was not with us.

As for Garrison Keillor, he was was very, very, far away.

Still, I did bring a 100 - 400 zoom with me. By extending it to the 400 mm setting and then cropping a bit, I was able to get a few shots that showed that Garrison Keillor was actually in front of my camera, but there was no intimacy in the shots. They were distant point shots and nothing more.

I was not concerned, because, as noted, I had come just to watch, and a snap or two that proved that we had been there was good enough.

To the surprise of us all, at a certain point, Keillor left the stage and walked right into the middle of the front portion of the crowd. So he came a little closer than I had expected him to. Still, a fence separated those among whom he walked - those who had actual seats upon which to sit - from the rest of us, who had either to stand or sit upon the ground.

So I knew he would never go beyond that fence and make it to where we stood.

But Keillor did walk beyond the edge of the fence, then turned onto the path that skirted the common section. Melanie and I stood right at the edge of that path. Suddenly, the bard whose stories I have been listening to for 30 years and whose books I have read was walking straight towards us.

In fact, if I didn't move, Garrison Keillor would have no choice but to walk right over the top of me. So I scurried a person or two into the crowd and shot this frame as I fled.

I always knew Keillor was a man who wears elegant shoes.

And then he was right beside me. Back in the early 1980's, when I first heard him on the radio, I developed a mental picture of Garrison Keillor. I pictured him as tall, husky, robust, with a thick, black beard and black hair topped by a brown cowboy hat. I pictured him in Levi's and red plaid shirts.

I got his height right, and the color red, too, just misplaced a bit.

These days, I will often miss a show or two or three, but back then the only way I would miss A Prarie Home Companion was if I were somewhere out in Alaska beyond radio range. Whenver he came on, if I was not driving the car, I would lie upon the bed or couch, close my eyes so that there would be no visuals to compete with the images his words drew in my brain - images of Lefty the Cowboy, getting outflanked and dumped by a buxomy blond, Guy Noir, the private eye, who, for a time got killed on just about every show, but always managed to kill the bad guy who killed him.

Now, they both get to live.

There were the amazing sound effects of the recently deceased Tom Keith and Fred Newman, who came to Alaska with him; there was soul-soothing ketchup, be-bop-a-roo-bop rhubard pie, powder milk bisquits, children who were all above average, preachers, Norwegian bachelor farmers, Lutherans, Catholics and other brethern and sistren that he had grown up with, reworked into new characters and given a life they never expected to have.

I identified with Keillor's stories, because he could have just as easily been talking about the folks in the different Mormon congregations that I grew up in as my restless dad moved us to various places in the west, away from but anchored by my birth state of Utah.

There was always sexual innuendo in Keillor's stories, but as he aged, the innuendo gradually became blatant and the hypocrisy of some of his never-the-less always lovable characters obvious. His stories grew more and more risque, as if he were finally throwing off the shackles that had bound him while growing up. Having grown up Mormon, I could understand this, too.

And here, live at the Alaska State Fair doing a three-hour show that would not be broadcast on the radio, Keillor totally let loose and put in a performance that, linguistically, was downright ribald.

At one point, when he was still onstage and Melanie was standing right behind me, he told the young adults to take a look at that old, bent, gray-haired man standing in front of them, that breaking down old man who was their father.

Then, in rather graphic detail, which I would be happy to repeat but I know if I do, I will get scolded by my daughters who would laugh if Conan O'Brien uttered words of the same nature, he described that old man as a young man and went into some detail about the blast and how he made the young person's mother pregnant.

It might be hard for the young people to think of their dad like that, Keillor lectured, but they should be grateful to him for it, or else they wouldn't be here.

With Melanie standing just behind me, I felt a little self-conscious - but it also put my mind back to the night she was conceived. Theorectically, it could have been any of a few different nights in the right time period, but I know it was that night. I knew it at the moment - and what a special night it was. And what a wonderful gift came to us as a result.

And there she is, just to the left of Garrison Keillor - the very pretty, black-haired lady, holding a blue jacket, laughing at whatever it was that Keillor was saying at that moment, ribald or not.

Cats. Keillor doesn't talk about them near as much now as he used to, but in the earlier days, hardly a show went by without a cat being inserted into a story.

He even made up a song about Alaska cats.

As it happened, in the early 1990's, a cat moved in with us and then over the next few years I created a number of cat books. Since Garrison Keillor loved cats and I loved listening to Garrison Keillor, I knew that if I sent those cat books to Keillor he would love them so much that he would call up the right publisher and just like that, my cat books would be published.

He would have me on his show and we would talk knowingly and humorously about cats, my books would sell by the millions and thus my cats would fund my work for the rest of my life.

But Garrison Keillor never wrote back.

Years later, a package came in the mail, along with a letter from a Keillor staffer who said she had found my cat books in a box sitting in a back room somewhere. She did not even tell me if Mr. Keillor had ever even laid eyes upon them.

I decided that he must not have. If Garrison Keillor had looked at my cat books, then surely he would have loved them; surely he would have passed them on to the right publisher and we would be old buddies now - thanks to all those times I had appeared on his show to talk about cats. My work would now be financed for the remainder of my life. I could travel the Arctic at will in my restored airplane and I could have a second plane that was faster and could go farther without a refill. Whenver I felt I needed a break, I could fly off to India or Brazil or Tahiti or wherever I wanted and when Margie wanted, she could come, too.

I still have faith in my cat buddies. Right now, it looks we are plunging toward disaster, but I continue to believe that sooner or later, the cats will come to our rescue and everything will be okay.

The stroll was fairly short and soon Keillor walked back to the stage and resumed his performance. I was pleased to have had such an experience. I had not expected to get close to him at all. I knew it would never happen again...

...but it did; real quick. Keillor returned to his crowd walk and this time he brought the beautiful Heather Masse with him. They sang as they walked.

A little bit ahead of them, some baby feet protruded into the air. I knew that Keillor would pause when he reached the baby feet, because no one who had a heart could pass by without wanting to stop and give those baby feet a squeeze. Most people couldn't get away with making a baby feet stop and squeeze - but Keillor could.

So, staying low to the ground, I skedalled over to those feet and positioned myself. Sure enough, when Keillor reached them, he stopped and reached out to give those baby feet a squeeze.

Keillor squeezed the baby feet, first together and then just the left.

And then, accompanied by Heather Masse as well as some in the crowd, he sang to the baby: "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you..."

It kind of looks like Keillor is a holy man, giving the baby a blessing. Or perhaps, he positioned his hand there to feel the spiritual essence of the baby. A logical person might surmise that Keillor is just using his hand to shade the baby from the sun that was beating down upon it when Keillor first spotted it, but, look - Keillor's hand is in the shade of his own body, as is the baby.

I prefer to think that Keillor cupped his hand over the baby because he wanted to feel its spiritual essence. It was a spiritual moment; it truly was. You can hear that spirit in the song.

Up until this moment, I had mostly been keeping crouched pretty low to the ground so as not obstruck anyone's view, but even though I did not come here to take pictures, I'm still a photographer and when I see a picture developing in front of me (as I do in every waking moment) I want to get it.

I needed a higher angle, so I could include the baby's face in the photo. I popped up and got it and as I did, someone shot a little video of the moment and later put it on YouTube. Here it is. You can hear a few measures of the song and then decide for youself about whether or not it was a spiritual song.

The song ended. Keillor and Masse left the baby, passed by the concession and beer tent and then moved on through the crowd. I took a few more pictures, but you get the idea.

Near the stage, the duo of Keillor and Masse brought their walking performance to a close.

By following them, I had figured out how to work myself through at least the outer edges of the crowd, so I was able to take this picture when they brought the show to a close soon after. This, and many of the other pictures, don't really work at this tiny size, but you can click on them or view the slide show to see larger versions.

Now, it was my intent to run back up, find the blessed baby and see what the family had to say about what they had just experienced.

This plan failed. The show had lasted well over three hours and so the urgent crowd moved in mass toward the "rent-a-cans." I got swept along.

By the time I escaped and pushed my way through the anxious mob, baby and parents had disappeared.

I was hungry. I rejoined Melanie, found Margie and Cyndy and then we all set out in search of food - which is found in abundance and at high prices at the Alaska State Fair.

I had been thinking that I might get a turkey leg, but changed my mind and went for a blue corn tamale.

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Three iPhone studies of Lisa drinking an iced-Americano at Kaladi Bros; tomorrow, I begin a trip into the near past

Study # 1: Lisa with two red straws in her iced Americano.

Lisa did not spend very much time in Arizona - just a few days. Her UAA finals are coming up and she needed to get back to her studies. Originally, Lisa and I had planned to be in India during Thanksgiving, but that plan got changed. Assuming things go as I hope, I will tell the full story of why we had planned to be there and why those plans got changed the next time I actually do go to India.

As things turned out, it was good that those plans changed. It would have been awful to in India while struck down by shingles and then to find out from half-a-world away that my wife and Lisa's mother had suffered a serious gall bladder attack, had taken an emergency ride to the hospital and had undergone two surgeries.

Anyway, we did not go to India, Lisa went to Arizona for just three or four days, came home and today drove out to see us.

She wanted to go out for coffee. Metro Cafe, of course, was not only closed for the holiday weekend but is always closed on Sundays, so we went to Kaladi Bros instead.

Lisa brought her own jar and had the barista fill it with iced Americano.

Study # 2: Lisa uses two red straws to stir her iced Americano.

I brought my camera, but once we arrived I discovered that I had forgot to put the battery back in after I had recharged it overnight. So I pulled out my iPhone and used it to document the experience.

We spoke of things in Arizona, and of things here, too.

I would tell some of those things, but I am feeling very tired and lazy.

Study #3: Lisa ponders as the two red straws rest in her iced-Americano.

As it happened, at the table next to us sat a former State Senator who had gained fame in the late '90's and early 2000's when he...

Oh, hell! My Ma always said, "if you can't say anything good about someone, don't say anything at all."

I don't always follow that advice, but it is still the Thanksgiving holiday weekend and it has been a pleasant, even if miserable, weekend and so I might as well let it end that way. I will not say anything bad about the guy although... Don't say it, Bill, don't say it... remember your mother's words.. He is not from Wasilla. He is from another town.

Now... regular readers know that there have been some big gaps in my blog coverage over the past several months, among them everything that happened during the hiatus I took through the last half of summer as well as my trip to New York City.

Even when I was on hiatus, I kept photographing at my normal pace and my trip to New York - well, that was all about photography.

At the moment, it is kind of hard for me to get about and photograph as I would like, there are only a few hours of dim daylight, so I am going to post some of this stuff that I did nothing with. Not all of it - there is too much. It would take me two or three months.

I will begin tomorrow with a post from the hiatus. One day, although I did not plan to or expect to or even imagine that I might, I wound up taking a very short walk with a very famous American from the upper-midwest who was visiting Alaska. Notwithstanding the fact that he is growing old, he was accompanied by a very beautiful and talented lady.

Assuming that I can find the pictures, I will post a few frames from that walk tomorrow.

A dog gets fed, I freeze in mild weather, a traffic ticket gets issued

As you can see, Margie is getting better. She's not running around or jumping about and she is still plenty sore, but besides making two pumpkin chiffon pies and baking rolls, she cut up some dog sausage for Muzzy. I don't mean sausage made of dog, but sausage made for dogs. When Margie was in the hospital, I stopped by Jacob and Lavina's just before they flew south, picked Muzzy up and brought him home.

The original plan was for Caleb to care for him and that's still the plan, but, in practicallity, most of Muzzy's care falls upon us as Caleb is either at work, asleep, visiting a friend or scolding the '49ers when they are losing on TV.

I don't know how it would have worked out for Muzzy and Caleb if Margie had not had to go in for emergency surgery.

They would have got through, I guess, but Caleb really does not have the time to care for a St. Bernard by himself. He can care for the cats, but compared to the dog, their needs are small.

As for me, I have been extremely lazy, doing almost nothing. Yesterday, I stepped out of the house just one time - to photograph the moose that appeared in yesterday's post. And that was just onto the porch.

Today, I got up very late, ate my oatmeal, then lay down on the couch, where two cats joined me, and then semi-dozed off.

Shingles make me not want to move. Shingles make me want only to sleep. Shingles makes it hard to sleep. But, come mid-afternoon, I decided I must do something. So I made myself get up and take a walk. I did not take Muzzy. That would be too hard on me right now.

I just walked by myself and I damn near froze to death.

It wasn't even that cold: 12 degrees, F (-11 C) - the kind of weather that would normally envigorate me. But today it just froze me. It has been that way since I came down with these shingles THREE WEEKS AGO! They are fading in color and the blisters have scabbed over, but they still bring misery to my every second.

But I don't want to write about shingles anymore. Until they go away, I think I must try to find the way to live as usual, as if I did not have them.

So I don't want to write about them anymore. One day - maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe next year, maybe the year after (I have learned that in some cases shingles pain can linger for months and even years after the shingles disappear) I will wake up and there will be no pain.

Then I will write again and say, "My shingles are gone. They don't hurt anymore."

At 4:00 PM, I went out and dropped some bills in the mail. Metro Cafe was closed, so I stopped at the Mocha Moose drive-through and bought an Americano to bring home and share with Margie. Across the street, a cop pulled someone over and appeared to write him a ticket.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving was already over, so the driver did not have to worry about falling short on turkey because he had to pay for a ticket.

I pick Margie up at the hospital and then drive her through insane traffic and panicked moose safely to our home

I slept with my iPhone right by my ear and so was awakened a bit before 11:00 AM by Margie's call to tell me that she would soon be released and so I could come in and get her.

11:00 AM - sounds very lazy. But I had not been able to go to sleep until 5:00 and I ran out of Vicodin two days okay and while it is possible that I could call the doctor and get the prescription refilled I have decided that I don't want to take it anymore and will just tough it out. I did not sleep that good. I bet my shingles woke me up AT LEAST 30 times. Maybe I should rethink that decision. We'll see. So, even at 11:00, it was very difficult to get up, but I did not want to leave my wife in the hospital, so I got up.

When I reached her, I was a little dismayed to learn that she has a plastic tube going into the place were her gall bladder used to be. Fluids drain out of that place into a little bag that she keeps safety pinned to the inside of her shirt. She must bear this burden until November 30, when I bring her back to see the doctor again.

Still, you can see that she was happy to be getting out of the hospital and headed toward home.

Anyone who read yesterday's post has probably already figured out that the building seen through the window is the hospital - the Alaska Native Medical Center.

Soon, we were on the Glenn Highway, headed toward the Parks Highway and home. As you can see, the traffic was absolutely insane. For some reason, when I look at this picture, I hear that old TV jingle that used to accompany Chevy commericials on TV: 

"See the USA in your Chevrolet..."

Back then, our family car was a Ford.

And today, I was driving a Ford.

Ford Escape.

"See the USA, in your Ford Escape..."

There were school buses roaming about, packed with studious kids who would have preferred to remain at school, but now had to go home.

About this time, a text came to our phones simultaneously. Margie was free to look at hers. It was from Lisa. It was an iPhone shot of her and Melanie, in Carrizo, Arizona, White Mountain Apache Tribe, standing with their Grandma Rose, Margie's mom.

Finally, we were in Wasilla, headed up Lucille Street. Just before we reached Metro Cafe, this moose crossed the road in front of us. When you see moose crossing the roads right in front of traffic and often dying in the process, they seem like pretty stupid animals. But I think in the woods they are pretty smart. Not as smart as bears and wolves, but pretty smart just the same.

If they weren't, they wouldn't still be here. The bears and wolves would have got them all and then the poor ravens would have had to make do without their moose carrion. It's just that living in the woods for how many tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands or milliions of years, moose had no need to learn about roads so they didn't. They didn't even bother to develop the capacity to learn about roads.

Now they are undergoing a crash course and maybe sooner or later the survivors will ultimately evolve to the point where they figure it out.

They might even start driving cars themselves; they might run over us, sometimes.

I asked Marige if she wanted me to pull into the Metro drive through but she just wanted to go home.

The moment we got home, Margie asked if I would take a picture of her with her iPhone so she could send it in return to Lisa and Lisa could show it to Rose and all present so they would know that their mother and daughter had made it home safely.

So I did.

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The first surgery went well, but...

Margie's first surgery went well, but she did not get to come home. For all of yesterday and into this morning, we thought she would likely be released early today, the second surgery could be scheduled for later and we could still make our planned trip to Arizona.

But it was not to be.

Five gall stones were removed from her, but they left a blood infection behind and it must be treated or it could become very serious. So she is still in the hospital, she will have her second surgery tomorrow and, for now, our trip is off.

Lynxton is still going, though. Tomorrow, he will head out with his parents and his big bros. They will fly to Phoenix, overnight there, then drive up to the White Mountain Apache reservation. The introduction of Lynxton to his Apache and Navajo family will begin.

Melanie, Charlie and Lisa are also scheduled to go.

It will be a different kind of Thanksgiving here.