I happen upon an eagle, then must choose between it and my grandson

As I drove home the long way on my coffee break, I saw a bald eagle, perched on a bare branch high in a tree over the Little Susitna River. I stopped, got out, got as close to it as I could without falling into the river, took a few pictures, got back into the car and continued my journey toward home.

I was tired, weary, lacking in energy. I did not want to do anything that I did not have to do. "That's it," I told myself. "This will be my one picture for the day. I will shoot no more. I will post just this one."

When I arrived home, I was surprised to see Lavina's car idling in the driveway. The fact that it was idling told me that she was keeping it warm because Jobe had fallen asleep on the drive out and was still napping.

I peeked through the glare and the images of bare trees reflecting off the windshield and, sure enough, there was Jobe, napping peacefully.

Sorry, eagle.

Unable to attend Lavina's birthday party, I Facebook an old friend and order a special cake for her

It is Lavina's birthday and, to my great frustration, I cannot take the time to go into town, join in the party and wish her a happy one. I suspect that all the family but me will probably show up. There will be good food and gifts, cake and ice cream. Candles will be lit and even though they will be for Lavina, Kalib and Jobe will assist her in the blowing out part. Lynxton, who as of yesterday had grown to seven pounds, seven ounces - nearly two pounds more than he was born with - will at times open his eyes and look around and at other times will sleep peacefully.

He might cry a little bit, but not much, because he is not a cry baby and, anyway, once he starts to cry, whatever need he is asking to have taken care of, whether it be a serving of mother's milk, a needed burp or a diaper change, will soon be taken care of.

Oh, how I want to take this day off!

But I can't. I must stay right here and struggle to complete my work. I cannot go to Lavina's birthday party.

I hate my work. I love my work. I love it and I hate it all at once. But it is all a labor of love - even the hate part.

I had to do something and, as it happened, just yesterday, I learned through Facebook that my old friend, Ernest J. Tigglemaster, who I had not seen since our kindergarten days together at Lincoln Elementary in Pendleton, Oregon, is now Five Star General Ernest J. Tigglemaster, US Air Force, and is assigned to the Pentagon. He has great authority.

So I sent him a Facebook friend request. He accepted. Then we started messaging back and forth. I asked if he could contact the folks at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage and have them send up a pilot and a jet to make a sky cake - triple decker - for Lavina.

"Sure! Anything for the daughter-in-law of my old kindergarten buddy, Bill Hess!" he exclaimed. And he did.

And this is the jet, in the process of making the sky cake. The thing about a sky cake is that you cannot eat it. You can only look at it and admire its transient beauty, for, like a real cake, it does not last long. It disintegrates, sublimates, disappears, joins the clouds and drifts away.

But, for the little bit of time that it exists it is a beautiful thing, one that proclaims to all who can see:

"Happy birthday, Lavina!"

And see those things down below in the shadows - the things that look old, junked, cars?

They are not junked cars. They are expensive and elaborate birthday gifts, creatively wrapped. Any kind of gift that you want, Lavina - just imagine it and you will find it there, down below your sky cake.

Still trying to figure this new one out...

Click to enlarge.

Here you see an "old" picture of a still pretty new Jobe on the refrigerator and a new one of him sitting on the coffee table, with baby Lynxton lying at his side. At the time of the refrigerator picture, Jobe was extremely happy and comfortable with his place in the chain. He was the little one, the cutest person in any room that he entered, and he got all the attention that he could possibly want.

Now, attention that was once his has been diverted to baby Lynxton, who has a great need for that attention. Since Lynxton's birth, Margie has spent a considerable amount of time in Anchorage helping Lavina and Jake care for all three siblings and on weekends, we have been bringing Jobe home with us to make it a little easier at the Anchorage household.

Kalib has been staying put on weekends, because he has proven to be a good little helper in the care of Lynxton.

But poor Jobe has been feeling a bit displaced.

So this past weekend, we did it the opposite. Kalib spent the weekend with us and Jobe alone with his parents and Lynxton, so that he could get some special parental attention and bond more deeply with little brother. One day, Jacob took a long walk through the park with Jobe running about in front of, behind and beside him. Lynxton was strapped to his dad's torso in a baby carrier. All through the walk, Dad snapped iPhone images and then texted them to us.

Jobe was having a great time. He was smiling, laughing, figuring out how to make his way through downed trees. Lynxton slept through it all.

The time finally came when they had to come out here, pick Kalib up and take him back to Anchorage.

I think Jobe is adjusting to the idea of a new little brother, but he hasn't totally figured it out or come to terms, yet.

Kalib reaches out and touches a falling snowflake

Yesterday, out in the back yard, I took a very nice picture of Kalib, his grandma and a pair of pruning shears and decided immediately that, no matter what else I photographed that day, that would be my single picture for this post, as I am still in single picture mode.

But, that was yesterday - today it is snowing, lightly, tiny flakes drifting down, and so I am running this image instead.

Sleeping Lynx update; accident blocked by and seen in rearview mirror; those who root for the opposition

Today I drove into Anchorage to do a little work with some young people who had come down from the North Slope to attend the Elders and Youth Conference, held in conjunction with the Alaska Federations of Natives Convention. At lunch, I dropped by Jake and Lavina's where I got to see baby Lynxton.

As usual when I see him, he was asleep.

He is growing and needs his sleep.

I left early, a bit after 3:00 PM, because I have much production work that needs to be done and will have almost no time for AFN this year. As I entered Wasilla, I saw what appeared to be a pretty bad traffic accident. There were a number of vehicles involved, spread over a wide area on and off the highway, at least three ambulances, several police cars and some fire department vehicles.

A victim was being strapped onto a backboard.

Soon, the accident became a shrinking image in my rearview mirror and I drove off toward home - just like we always do after we come upon an accident.

Still, as I drove away I thought of the oft-quoted John Donne line, the one that inspired the title of one of Hemingway's most famous books: "Ask not for whom the siren wails - it wails for thee."

Or something like that.

And yes, it has wailed for me so many times... for my brother Ron, for Margie's father Randy, her sister Melinda, Anil, husband of my soul friend Soundarya followed so shockingly and rapidly by Soundarya herself... and these are just a few. The list is long... long... long... altogether too long.

As usual, I wondered why The Creator of this earth designed things this way. Many people of varying faith claim to know. Me, I don't know.

Tonight, I searched online for some information about the accident, but could not find anything. If there had been fatalities I am certain I would have found something.

Still, lives were undoubtedly changed... I hope not too badly, and I hope not irreversibly. 

Tonight, among others, I began to edit my pictures of the final two Barrow Whalers football games.

I came upon this image of the cheerleaders for Nikiski, running the track just before the championship game.

I know I will not use it in my publication, because if I do, that would be one less picture of the Barrow kids that I can put in and that publication will be for them and their fans.

So I use it here, and will hope that some of the Nikiski cheerleaders happen upon it.

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