I wonder if there was any school today?

Today as I walked through my personal nightmare, the subdivision called Serendipity, these two boys came zipping by. They turned onto a side road, then soon came zipping back.

If I had had my DSLR's, I could have followed the action, but I only took the pocket camera on my walk and it recycles too slow. So I missed the mishap, which happened immediately after I took the top picture. I did capture the aftermath. 

As you can see, they went around a corner and the sled broke where the rope was attached. The boy on the sled slid to the curb.

That's Tristan, 11, on the left, and Reed, 12, on the right. I wondered why they were out during school hours and thought about asking them, but I did not want to frighten them, so I did not.

It was the first walk that I have taken through Serendipity in a long time; I think the first time this year. It hurts me to walk in Serendipity, that's why. I knew it when it was wild, when no one called it Serendipity. I knew it when, on a day such as today, it would be just me back there, on my skis, with my late dog, Willow, or my even later dog, Scout.

I left Serendipity and headed back to the house. It was then that I discovered that someone was in the air, above me, manning the stick.

This hurts, too.

Kalib stayed with us, all day today, after being gone for several days in a row. He walked all about, as if walking was something that he had always been doing.

All day long, he was happy; happier then I have seen him since before we went to Washington DC and Margie got hurt and he went off to daycare.

All day long, Margie was happier than I have seen her, since she got hurt.

Kalib plays with Royce and Muzzy. There are two more images in this series, but I am saving them for Grahamn Kracker's No Cats Allowed Kracker Cat blog.

I had gone from my office into the bedroom to get my jacket so that I could go to a kiosk and get some coffee.

Margie came in. "There's a young person here to see you," she said.

"Who?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "He knocked on the door and then asked for you."

So I headed to the door expecting to see some kind of missionary or salesman but instead it was Mike. I had not seen Mike for years.

He was probably about 12 when I first met him. I was walking and he came pedaling by me on a bike. I took his picture. We became friends after that and he would often come by to watch my electric train buzz around my office.

He was a train enthusiast, and knew more about them then I did. Once, he needed a caboose, so I gave him mine.

He is 19 now and lives in Talkeetna. Something brought him to the neighborhood, so he stopped by to say hi.

He was curious about my train. Trouble is, after I broke my shoulder and got it replaced with titanium, I could not do the things necessary to keep that train running.

One day, I will make it run again.

Kalib studies a bubble.

Kalib reaches for bubbles. And who blows all these bubbles?

Why, its his Mom, Lavina. 

Kalib. These bubbles were blown last night, by the way.

Today, as I drank my coffee and ate a cinnamon roll, I drove by Iona, the place where people pray. I thought about Elvis Presley, and about the humble people that he sang about.

And this is from yesterday's coffee break. Church Road. People must pray here, too. Maybe that guy up there is praying, quietly, so no one will hear.

Curious. There are no churches on Church Road, but there are a bunch on Lucille Street.

Our house; a few other images from today and nothing more

In case you are curious, this is our house - the place where I live and work, and keep this blog. We moved into this house 27 years ago this month. It was well below zero when we moved in and we had to keep the doors open to haul in our stuff, so the house got very cold.

So did our fingers.

I then sawed and split some of the birch that had been cleared to build the house and made a hot fire in the woodstove.

The heat felt very good as it warmed us from the outside.

Margie made some hot chocolate, which warmed us from the inside. 

Those were good days.

Really, really, good days.

We didn't know how good they were until they became the past.

This is my neighbor, from two houses down. I don't know his name. In February of 2001, I lost my black cat, Little Guy, who eight years earlier had passed from his mother's womb straight into my hands. On a day with about three times the snowfall you see here, he stepped out onto the back porch and I never saw him again.

I searched for him, long and hard. I knocked on every door. I asked everyone I saw if they had seen a black cat. I could hardly bear the loss. 

For weeks afterward, every time this neighbor would see me, he would always ask about that cat.

So I think highly of him, even though I don't know his name.

This is another view of my house, taken from down the street as I finished my walk. I usually come home through the marsh, but I did not feel like it. Margie does not like it when I track snow into the house and I did not want to be scolded, however gently she scolds, and so I came down the road instead of through the marsh.

I always take my shoes off at the door, but the snow would have stuck on my Levis, even up to my knees.

I did not want either to be scolded or to take my pants off at the door, so I came down the road.

I did not build that tall fence.

My neighbor did. He hates cats. He does not like to look at my wrecked airplane, so he built the fence. He often wakes me by revving up the engine to his Harley Davidson in the morning. He doesn't necessarily drive it anywhere, he just sits there and revs up the engine, again and again, so that it does not lock up on him.

We don't talk much. He works for the Alaska Marine Highway and is gone more than he is home.

A kid, apparently on his way home from school, but maybe he is going someplace else. I don't know.

It was warm today, teens and then 20's for awhile, but the wind blew.

I saw this boy, off to the side of Lucille Street, as I was coming home from Wal-Mart. Margie doesn't work there, anymore. She can't, because of her accident. I don't care. I want her to work for me. I work in constant chaos, even when all is calm around me. 

Maybe she can reduce the chaos and increase our income more than she lost by losing her job at Wal-Mart.

I don't know why the boy was down in the snow like that. Maybe he was skiing and fell down. That looks like a ski pole.

I didn't stop to ask. I just snapped and kept going.

I had things to do.

Martigny. She is never allowed to go outside. She doesn't even want to go outside.

Royce - 15 years old or so and the last of the indoor-outdoor cats. I hated to do it, but after Little Guy I never let a new cat go outside unchaperoned - and then only Jim. 

Now that he is growing old, Royce doesn't go outside much anymore and never for very long.

When its cold, he doesn't go out at all. He didn't used to care about the cold. He was born with a good cold-weather coat. Now, he doesn't like the cold.

And there you have it - nothing of consequence, just a few images from today, right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

After the visit to the ER, Kalib is left to ponder a different side of life

Kalib plays with a toy in the waiting area to the emergency room at the Mat-Su Regional Hospital.

This is how it happened: At about 11:00 PM, I headed back to my office after taking a short break. To get there, I had to pass through the living room, open the garage door and then walk a few feet to my office door. As I passed through the living room, I saw a pleasant scene, almost idyllic. 

Lavina was sitting on one couch doing something in her laptop computer. His back propped against a chair, Jacob was sitting on the floor reading out loud to Kalib from one of his many books - perhaps one that he had gotten for Christmas or his birthday; I'm not certain.

As Jacob read, Kalib crawled about the immediate area, exploring things to the sound of his father's voice.

I quickly passed through and sat down at my computer. I had not been there for more than a few minutes when Margie stepped in, Kalib in her arms. His eyes were wet with tears and I saw the scratch marks fresh on his face.

I immediately rose from my chair.

Kalib studies the mechanics of the toy.

Margie informed me that Martigny had scratched him, and that Jacob and Lavina were on their way to the store, to purchase an antispetic cleanser that would be mild enough for a baby. I went back into the house with the two of them, and then I cleaned the scratches as best I could with just warm water.

Kalib protested, howled, jerked and twisted throughout the process. When I finished, I could see that the scratch on his upper lip was quite deep. So I called Lavina and told her and we decided to take him to the emergency room.

As I later put the story together, even as Jacob read to him, Kalib crawled from the living room into the kitchen. Suddenly, before anyone discovered that he had crawled out of sight, the peace that I had witnessed only minutes before was destroyed by the sound of something crashing to the floor and a sudden, loud, cry from Kalib.

Martigny then dashed out of the kitchen and hid.

Kalib had been scratched. I think Martigny, who had always been so good with Kalib, was caught by surprise by the falling object and Kalib, who had undoubtedly caused it to fall.

In panic, she lashed out.

It is a very difficult thing to keep your eye on a toddler 100 percent of the time when he is awake and about, but it only takes seconds for a toddler out of sight to get himself into true trouble.

After his name is called, Kalib gets weighed.

The nurse checks his vitals by attaching a high-tech device to his toes and pulling his sock over it.

Kalib in the arms of his mom, just before the doctor begins his treatment.

Can you imagine how hard this is for his dad, to have to hold down this little son whom he so adores?

The doctor does his work. He does not stitch but rather glues the separated sides of the deep wound back together. We are instructed to just let the glue wear off naturally. When its job is done, it will be gone. The smaller scratches are expected to disappear in due time.

The deeper gash on Kalib's lip will leave a scar, but if we keep the sun off of it, it will be less of a scar and in time may hardly be noticeable. Right now, there is little sun to keep off of it, but we will be in Arizona soon. That means sunscreen, and a big hat.

After the repair is done, a sobbing Kalib is comforted by his mom - who, I must say, is as loving, caring, and dedicated a mom as I have ever seen. She is a wonderful mom, and a great daughter-in-law. I love her dearly.

The same goes for his dad. His dad is a much better dad to Kalib than I was to him. Up until this happened, Kalib had never experienced any hard physical contact; I don't think he had ever even been scolded. No, nary a voice had been raised against him and he had been subjected to no physical discipline.

And now, all of a sudden, he been scratched by a cat that he had hung out with. His grandpa had washed his wounds while his grandma held his arms as though she were a straight jacket, then he had gone to the hospital where the people who had always been nothing but loving and gentle with him had ganged up on him along with a stranger - an old man with white hair and white beard and the nurse and had not only restrained him, but had inflicted pain upon him - for his good, yes, but could he know that?

He was left with much to ponder.

Yet, he has forgiven us all. He still greets us all with a smile and he laughs, but he seems a little quicker to cry and to get upset, and a little slower to calm back down again.

The culprit

Tonight, I prepared 11 photos to place in this entry, eight of them taken at Mat-Su Regional Hospital during our trip to the emergency room with my little grandson, Kalib. But it is 1:23 AM right now and I have had a busy day. I have another one ahead of me shortly.

So I will save ten of those photos for tomorrow and tonight will run only this one, taken shortly before midnight.

Yes, Martigny is the culprit who sent Kalib to the emergency room. Some may wonder why she is still here, but this is her home. Where else can she be? Plus, the whole thing was a fluke, brought about by an unfortunate event that caused Martigny to panic and lash out, not so much at Kalib but at whatever happened to be in front of her during a terrifying moment.

We are taking action to make certain that such a thing does not happen again.

I would explain, but I have to feed my tropical fish and go to bed.

I am very tired.

There are many tired people people tonight, right here in Wasilla, Alaska.

Most of them are asleep.

But I'm not.