The Russian Immigrant boy who loved Willow; Royce; the grandmother who prayed for a coffee shop; horses; ravens; musician; a warm Pistol

On December 29, I devoted my entire post to a series of pictures of children of Russian immigrants as they sledded down Tamar. In that post, I recounted a bit of a story from years before when a young, freckle-faced, Russian boy with red/blond hair used to happily come out to greet the dog Willow and I whenever we would come walking by.

I wrote about how he would follow along, but just for a little ways, because he knew that his parents would not want him too.

This is he, on the left, Ruvum. I hardly ever see him now, but today I did, carrying a snowboard on his back, accompanied by two girls. The third girl declined to be photographed, but she happily recalled how she used to see me with Willow.

As it happens, I meant them right in front of the house where they lived back when Willow was alive and walking with me. Today, they live on the other side of the block, although I am reluctant to call it a block because it is much bigger than the typical city block. 

Much bigger. But it is square shaped, as blocks are.

Both he and the girls were very polite and courteous, if reserved, and their faces seemed to tell me that they are decent people, good kids.

I miss those old days, when they would come running out so eager to see Willow, when Ruvum would follow along for just a little bit, and then turn back.

Compared to how he was last weekend, I think Royce is doing quite a bit better. He is still heartbreakingly thin and light. When I pick him up, I feel bones, not meat or fat, beneath his fur, but he is eating well, seems to have energy that belies his appearance, and the prescription food mixed with Metamucil seems to be doing at least part of its job.

He's dropped some healthy looking turds into the litter box lately.

Now, if only it will do the rest of job and put some weight back on him.

Through the Metro Window Study, #Three billion-two-point-five: As I have mentioned before, a dog wash used to sit on the site now occupied by Metro Cafe. Then one day, the dog wash went out of business, the property went up for sale, the property was sold, the dog wash came down and construction began on a new project.

Nearly every day that I spent home and not somewhere else, I would pass by the construction scene, either in my car, on my bike, or sometimes on foot.

I, and the other members of this family were all most curious to see what rise in place of the dog wash.

We weren't the only ones. See the woman on the left? That is Carol, pictured in this magnificent study with her granddaughter, Serenity. Carol lives in the apartments right next door and she, too, was most curious. She would peek out from her window and sometimes she would sneak through the trees, hoping to get a close look, to see if she could figure out what it was going to be.

"I prayed that it would be a coffee shop," she says. Most of the time, she is on foot and there were no coffee shops in walking distance for a woman whose cane testifies that she is feeling the wear of this life. She wanted a good coffee shop, where she could go and sip a delicious cup as she sat down at a nice table with her granddaughter and enjoyed the company of the proprietor, and of other friendly people seeking the same pleasure that she sought.

So she prayed, and her prayer was answered, affirmatively.

When I paid Carmen today, I offered her the usual dollar tip, but before she could take it, the wind grabbed it and sent it flying down the drive-through. I could see a vehicle coming from behind, so I pulled up away from the window, got out of the car, grabbed the dollar bill and walked it back to Carmen.

As I did, a pickup truck pulled in and parked not far away. I began to walk back to the car.

"Oh, it's those cute girls!" I heard Carmen exclaim.

I turned back and saw several little girls pour out of the pickup and run laughing towards the coffee shop. They all looked to be Native, and all were happy. I could not take a picture, because I had left my pocket camera sitting on the passenger seat.

I got back into the car and thought about driving around and back to the window, so that I could do another study shot of those girls through the Metro window, but that seemed to me to be cheating.

Plus, from the tone of Carmen's exclamation, I knew that they were regulars.

I must trust that one day, before too long, I will pull up to that drive-through window when the cute little girls are in the coffee house. I will then make them the subject of a Through the Metro Window Study.

I wonder what number I will be at by then?

In order to give myself a chance to hear a little news, I took the long way home. Not so long ago, it was pitch night at this time and one could barely make out the forms of these horses against the snow - if one could make it out at all.

Look at it now.

The weather remains unrealistically warm. It feels like spring.

But what do you want to bet that it's not?

As I headed down Schrock, I saw a group of Russian Old Believers walking alongside the road. Before I could reach them, they turned and disappeared down a trail into the woods.

Further along, I saw some ravens, flying off to my right.

The ravens flew on.

Then the ravens crossed over the road, and flew to my left.

Then they drifted off in the direction of the Talkeetna Mountains.

As I neared home, All Things Considered began a story on Gil Scott Heron, the singer/songwriter who, in the 1970's, did a very angry and excellent piece titled, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Some says he is a father of rap. He has come out with a new album title, I'm New Here. It was mighty bluesy and damn good. I pulled into my driveway about half-way-through the story, but I could not get out of the car until the story ended, until Gil Scott Heron quit singing.

This would be a good album to have. So would The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.

I shut down the car and the radio went off. I stepped into the house and there, by the door, sat Pistol-Yero on a chair, looking at me. He was so thrilled to see me he could hardly contain himself.

I'm not joking, either. I'm serious. I know this cat. He was thrilled to see me.

Margie goes to town and drops me off at the edge of the highway, I find food to eat and see some fascinating sights

Margie had a physical therapy appointment in Anchorage this morning, so I had her drop me off at the side of the Parks Highway as she left town. I then went looking for food, and wound up at Mat-Su Family Restaurant, about 30 feet away.

This is my waitress, waiting on someone else.

I am a generous person and am happy to share my waitress with others.

Here is a fellow who has already finished his breakfast, walking back to his vehicle, keys ready to be inserted in the ignition.

She came by refilling coffee cups.

This is the view that I see as I look out my Family Restaurant window: Alaska.

Now I am walking home from Family Restaurant - close to four miles. A dog comes riding over the hill. There is a man in the vehicle with him.

The dog wishes the man would get out for once, and let the dog drive.

But the man won't. The dog does not understand why.

Bill. I think you should go to bed. Get some sleep.

A military jet passes overhead.

Then a military raven flies by. It is carrying little bombs. They will not kill you, but you don't want to get bombed - not by a raven, anyway.

This is Ken Clark. He is wondering why a strange looking man is walking down the street towards him, taking his picture.

He was very amused once he found out.

Now he will be remembered forever.

Just by looking, you can see that this was a very warm day. It got above freezing.

I suppose some people like it that way, but not me.

Not this time of year.

It's just not right. 

It's like mother nature has forgotten where we're at.

Through the Window Metro Study, #42A. That's Karl, Carmen's brother-in-law, and Cindy.

On my way home from my coffee break, I had to stop for these moose. Some may not believe this, but if this had been a cold, snowy, winter, instead of the warm farce that it has been, we would be seeing many more moose.

The number of horses would remain the same.

He came walking through my town in the snow; Royce setback; an accident, a horse and a few teenagers

As I have written a few times, I keep experiencing odd coincidences. This has been going on for years now and it happened again today. When I took this picture, I had A Prairie Home Companion on the radio and a Utah Phillips song was being performed by Robin and Linda Williams:

I'm walking through your town in the snow,
I'm walking through your town in the snow,
I got no place to go, all the trains are running slow
And I'm walking through your town in the snow

I carry my home on my back,
I carry my home on my back,
But the police only frown, every time I lay it down,
And I'm walking through your town in the snow

The train track was just across the street and the Wasilla Police station just ahead. The man wasn't carrying a pack, though. He was pulling a piece of rolling luggage.

So we finally got a modest dropping of snow to coat the old stuff. Nothing to brag about - six inches, maybe. Still, I was glad.

I suspect that this fellow could have just as soon gone without it.

I wonder why he was walking through my town in the snow?

I'm afraid Royce has had a couple of bad days. Something is leaking out of him and it stinks terribly. It has almost made me barf a couple of times and has left me feeling sick to my stomach, but different than the usual way. I haven't yet figured out how to describe it. Yesterday, I gave him a bath, but it all came back and I fear it would be too hard on him to have another bath right now. I have made a warm place for him and try to keep him off the furniture, because whatever he comes in contact with stinks, too, but he managed to slip by and get onto the couch. Once he did, the damage had been done.

I did not have the heart to make him move until he was ready. 

I called the vet this morning, hoping to get him in. They could not get back to me until nearly closing time (they close early on Saturday's). I explained what was happening and they had a couple of theories, but did not see it as an emergency.

So he is scheduled to go back to the vet Monday morning at 11:00 AM.

We may have to postpone, because I think Lavina is likely to be giving birth at that time.

Two snowmachines coming down Wards.

Pickup truck on Seldon. The ISO control on my pocket camera had inadvertantly slipped to 2500. I don't care. It just gives the picture a different feel, that's all - more contrasty and grainy.

Ditto.

Minor traffic accident near the corner of the Palmer-Wasilla and Parks Highways.

Horses on Sunrise.

Through the Window Metro Study, #9701. These numbers are completely arbitrary, because I cannot remember them from one post to the next. The tall man is Nick and he used to work at Northern Air Cargo in Anchorage with Carmen. That's his son on the left, but they had already moved on when I got the ID's and his name had slipped out with him.

A group of teens caught in my rearview mirror.

I journey backwards and bump into Joe Lieberman in Boston, I come forward to find a man walking; honest, forthright, horses and Kalib feeding fish

That's Boston down there, over six years ago - May 12, 2003. I had no intention of posting this in today's blog, or any day's blog. In fact, I had forgotten I had ever taken such a picture, until today, when I stumbled across this while looking for something else. 

This is not what I was looking for, but I did at least remember taking this picture, shortly after the above airplane landed in Boston, MA.

I was on my way to Washington, DC, and was slightly surprised to bump into Joe, who was going there, too - Joe Lieberman, who was then the Democratic Senator from Connecticut. He's still the Senator from Connecticut but I am not quite sure what he is.

At that time, he was running for Vice-President with John Kerry and we thought he was a Democrat.

I was independent of all political parties, but knew that I would be voting for Kerry and Lieberman.

Lieberman was friendly and personable and we had a nice little chat.

I wish that I could have another chat with him now, so that I could tell him how how my health insurance company has failed me, how it has proven to be an obstacle to my health care rather than a benefit.

I would ask him why he stands up for them and against me and my health.

After we finished our visit, these two ladies came along. They got pretty excited. "Look!" one of them said to the other. "That's Joe Lieberman! He's going to be President of the United States."

Now, I come back to the present - or at least, to one-half hour ago, when Kalib came into my office to feed my fish.

It's only one picture, but I hope it makes you smile, Mary.

Earlier in the day, a little after noon, as I drove down Seldon with Margie, I saw a man walking.

And later I saw these horses, all of whom were upright and honest individuals of great character, living together in a community of peace, love and harmony, where everyone shares their hay equally. Yet, the picture is exceptionally deceiving, for it was very nearly dark when I took it. The snow was dim to look at and the horses were mere forms against it.

But, to see what would happen, in Lightroom, I hit the auto-adjust. It brightened up, but in a strange metallic, blue, hue. I color-balanced it a bit and this is how it turned out.

It is a lie, honestly told.

This is the original exposure and is pretty close to how the scene actually appeared, except that this might be a little lighter than it looked to the eye. Pretty close, though.

Cocoon mode,* day 23: My futile search for Old Girl and her woman

You will recall that Carol Shay did not know the address of the house where Old Girl was reunited with her woman, but she did give me general directions on how to get there and assured me that, once I did, it would be obvious to me. So, I pedaled my bike right into the area that I believed her to speak of, but it was not obvious at all. 

There were a good number of homes around and the only way that I would have known Old Girl lived at one of them was if she was out in the yard. She wasn't.

I did, however, see this American flag, hanging limp in the shadows, where a triangular patch of it caught the sunlight.

...and I saw this horse, peeking out of a nearby barn. I am told this barn is where I was born, but I don't believe it, since I did not first step into Alaska until I was 22 years old.

It was the horse that told me this. The horse said, "brother, you were born in this barn, just like me." I think the horse lied.

True enough, though - I was born an Alaskan, its just that I was born into exile in a town called Ogden, Utah, and it took me awhile to come home.

And, as I neared my house, I saw this dog. But I never did see Old Girl and her woman.

In the afternoon, when I took my coffee break, I drove back into the neighborhood, where I spotted this little family, as seen in my rearview mirror. I drove to them, described the dog, and asked if they knew where it lived.

They were friendly and helpful people and they spoke with what I took to be a Russian accent - a strong Russian accent. It could have been from somewhere else in that part of the world, but it sounded Russian to me.

By my description of the old dog with one blue and one brown eye, they recognized it right away. "Very old dog," the man said. "Husky. So stiff with arthritis it can hardly walk." 

So they told me where the dog lived, with two other dogs. I drove there, and found an old husky, with two dogs and a woman, but it was the wrong husky and the wrong woman.

"No," she said, "my dog did not get lost."

I should have taken their picture, but I was in a hurry and already had more pictures than I could justifiable stuff into a "cocoon mode" post, so I just said "thank you," got back into my red Ford Escape and drove away.

But I will yet find Old Girl and her woman.

I will.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.