Post-accident car shopping excursion, part II: We give Anchorage a try

At first, we thought we would do all our car shopping here in the valley, but Margie and Kalib both had doctor appointments in Anchorage. Plus, while I was leaning toward Ford, in no small part because they are an American company but did not participate in the bailout, I also wanted to check out Toyota and Subaru. 

First, we had to pick up the rental car that Joey Seibert, Progressive Insurance Adjuster, had reserved for us. So we had Kalib drop us off at Enterprise car rentals. The only vehicle they had available was a big, red, Dodge Caravan. They had us do the usual walk-around to check for dings, cracked windshields and such, and then we drove away, towards Anchorage.

We had barely gotten back on the highway when suddenly I noticed a tiny chip in the windshield, a bit higher than my head. I pointed it out to Margie. "Looks like we're in trouble now!" I said. "They will blame us and make us pay for it."

"I saw it when we got in, but I thought it was a small piece of ice," Margie answered. And then I noticed still another tiny chip, on the lower right hand side. 

There was no point in turning around and going back, because they hold you responsible for any damage not on their sheet from the moment you turn on the ignition and start to drive.

So we pressed on to Anchorage. Always, when one nears Anchorage, the plume of steam on the left can be seen rising into the air. Usually, the plume on the right is invisible, except that as you draw near you see the distortions caused by the refractions of light passing through it.

When the temperature is far enough below zero (F. of course) both plumes show. Once we reached town, we headed toward Tudor, where the Alaska Native Medical Center is located. Not far away was a marque that said 11:43 AM, -20 degrees.

Not bad for Anchorage which, by Alaska standards, is thought of as a warm town. Of course, East Anchorage is much colder than the airport, which sits right by the inlet and where the official temperatures are taken.

Margie had two doctor appointments, and after I dropped her off for the second one, I saw two friends from the village of Wainwright exit the hospital and head towards the waiting taxi-cabs.

No point in that. So I gave Rossman and Helen Peetook a ride to the Day's Inn on Fifth Avenue. Helen had taken a fall in November and had suffered a badly-broken leg. They had been in Anchorage since mid-November, but now they were going to go home.

Rossman is a whaling captain. Many times, he and Helen have fed their community with the rich flesh of the bowhead whale, as he is an extremely skilled whaling captain. He knows the ways of the Arctic seas, and the animals that live within and upon. I never traveled with his crew, but I have been on the ice with him for extended periods of time.

After I dropped Rossman and Helen off, I headed toward the nearest Wells Fargo bank and drove into the drive-through to deposit the $2833 check Joey Seibert had made out to me. I wanted it to be available for the down payment, should we close a deal this day. As I waited for my receipt, this fellow made a transaction of his own in the lane adjacent to the teller's window.

Kalib had suffered through his one-year old shots - five of them, so Lavina took the afternoon off to be with him. Here they are, getting into the rented Caravan. This meant that they were going to go car shopping with Margie and me.

When Margie, Lavina and Kalib had traveled to Arizona together last year, they had rented a Subaru Forester and they had liked it. This is Raymond Leddon, the Subaru salesman who helped us out. He led me past the 2009 Foresters to some "slightly used - by rental car agencies and such" 2008's that the dealer wanted to clear off the lot. I then did a test drive on some icy roads. I gunned it, I slammed on the brakes, I turned the steering wheel too sudden, sharp and fast.

And the Forester performed beautifully. I never even came close to losing control. "That's why its the most popular car in Alaska," Leddon boasted. He said it was the very car he had bought for his wife, who had some health problems and so needed a car that was both easy to operate, yet safe on ice and snow.

I was sold - but not necessarily on the 2008. Subaru made some significant changes between the '08 and '09 models and you could tell just by looking that the '09 was a much more substantial vehicle. Plus, I did not like the idea of buying a used rental car. People can be hell on rental cars.

Sold though I was, I had intended to check out Toyota in Anchorage and Ford in Wasilla. And we had promised Melanie that we would meet her at 3:30 at the Kaladi Brothers coffee shop by Title Wave Books.

As we prepared to drive away, Mr. Leddon gave us the thumbs up. He didn't work Sunday but, by gum, if we wanted to come back to town on Sunday he'd come to work that day, anyway, just for us.

"I can't promise," I said, "but right now, your Forester is in first place!"

Perhaps, if I had driven the 2009 model, we would have returned immediately after our visit with Melanie at Kaladi's. I liked the Forester.

Melanie took great interest in our shopping expedition. She wanted to do all that she could to help us find a car that was both economical and green, and I do not mean in color. She brought her iPhone to Kaladi's, hopped onto the web, and gave us some good advice on what was good and what was not.

Here she is showing us a Taurus wagon, or SUV. "It is not good," she said. "Don't get it."

About 4:00 PM, we headed toward the Toyota dealer. This is us, passing through Anchorage on our way there.

Now we have arrived at Kendall Toyota. We have yet to step into the showroom.

Now we have just entered the show room, where we were met by an enthusiastic salesman by the name of Jason. He gave Kalib a "high five." Kalib does not yet know what a high five is, but he enjoyed it, anyway.

I took an immediate interest in the RAV 4. The one on display was pretty damned expensive, nearly $30,000 and the payments were mighty high. Jason said he could get us into a "certified, pre-owned" version at a price we could afford and it would be just as good as if it were brand new.

It would be warranted and everything; certified by Kendall to be in perfect running order. He got out a flip chart that listed all the different parts, features and so on that Kendall certified, to prove to us that a used car would be as good as a new one.

There were several pages to the flip chart and Jason flipped through them all. Not only did I absorb every sentence, but each single word.

I wanted a red one, so he had the workers warm one up and pull it up to the door. This took about half-an-hour, because it was quite chilly.

I didn't get to test drive it, though. Jason test drove it - down some exceedingly icy and slick back roads and he drove like a lunatic - made my performance in the Forester look tame. He was gunning it, slamming on brakes, turning it sharp to the side in the very slickest of places, and always in complete control.

"This is an Alaska car!" he said. "You can't get a better car for Alaska than the Toyota Rav!"

I now felt very bad for Mr. Ledden, because I was completely sold on the RAV. I saw no point in driving home without it - and yet, I felt that we should still look at Ford. Compare the RAV to the Escape.

In the above picture, Kalib is not waving to me. He is waving to salesman Jason. Kalib really liked Jason. I did, too. I wanted to buy the Rav 4, from Jason. It now seemed kind of pointless to even go look at a Ford. Maybe if Jason had let me do the test drive, I would have bought the RAV on the spot. 

It was late now and we needed sustenance before hitting the highway home. We had not eaten steak in a long time, but Margie had a craving for one and after what she had been through, I figured she better have one. So Lavina called Jake. The best steak houses were all behind us, and I did not want to go backwards. So we agreed to meet at Applebee's on Muldon, which was more or less on the way home.

As we neared the restaurant, I saw an emergency vehicle leave the scene of an accident ahead of us. When we reached it, wreckage debris was scattered about the road, but it didn't look that bad. Still, you never know.

Not long after we were seated, a waitress came by and took our drink orders. Shortly thereafter, she took our dinner orders. After that, there was no more "short" involved. It became a long ordeal. Lavina and I had both ordered tall lemonades and we took our time drinking them.

Then the waitress brought us more, and we took our time with these.

After a very long time, the dishes that we had ordered were finally brought to us. I had ordered a baked potato, but got mashed potatoes instead. The waitress saw that this was a mistake, took my plate and said she would be right back with the baked potato.

After she left, Jacob, Lavina and Margie discovered that they had no eating utensils, and neither did I. Oh, well. We would just tell the waitress when she brought my plate back with the baked potato on it.

As we waited... and waited... and waited... we drank another round of lemonade. Then the lemonade was gone. We waited. We waited. We waited. Lavina got up and went to the waiter's station, found it unmanned, but did find one set of silverware. She snatched it up, then gave it to Margie.

If you click on this picture and blow it up a bit, you will see that many people seem to be looking around, waiting.

Then we waited... oh, did we wait! If even one waitress had come near to us, I would have grabbed her attention, but none did. No! Not one!

After about three weeks (maybe I exaggerate, slightly) the waitress finally came with my plate. I noted that the other diners at our table were still sitting there, waiting for silverware so they could begin to eat their food. The waitress's face went pale. She ran off to get some silverware.

This involved more waiting, but the shrimp that I had ordered along with my steak came skewered on long, thin, sticks, shish-kabob style. I picked up a stick with six shrimp on it and took a bite. It was cold. It was not warm. It was cold.

Eventually, we got our silverware. Now I could cut my steak and put a fork in it. It, too, was cold. Well, at least the potato should be hot. No, it was cold!

At this moment, the manager came by with a pleasant smile upon her face and asked how we were enjoying our evening at Applebee's.

She picked up the entire tab and promised us that this would not happen again, that next time we came to Applebee's we would have an excellent dining experience. She insisted that it was not the fault of the dedicated server, but that they were experiencing problems in the kitchen. The mortified waitress was extemely apologetic. She must make a living, so we took the manager at her word and left a tip for the waitress.

I appreciate what the manager did, and we did get a free meal out of the experience, but I would have preferred a hot one.

Kalib's first birthday, part 2: The one year-old throws an insane party

On December 26 at 3:19 AM, Alaska Standard Time, Kalib Lokaa' Dine Hess, my first grandson, turned one. About 12 hours later, he was presented with his first birthday cake. Kalib did not know that he was supposed to blow out the candle, which looked to him to be something fascinating, something that he should reach out and touch.

So his mother prepared to blow it out for him.

Of course, the party did not begin with the cake.

It began with the arrival of guests, most of whom were adults - uncles and aunts, and friends of his parents. Two other little people did come, both of whom were slightly older than Kalib.

This is party-girl Bryne, Kalib's senior by three months. Sadly, she and her parents had to go to another dinner elsewhere, so she was unable to stay to the end, but Bryne was a delight while she was here.

And this is party boy Lafe, Kalib's senior by one month. Lafe just might be the strongest baby that I have ever seen and he is a real tough guy. 

He and Kalib have been buddies practically since the day Kalib was born. I think Lafe will be a good person to have as a buddy in future years.

I hope that the two don't raise too much hell together, but that they do raise just enough. For what is the life of boys if they don't raise some hell?

Hell. That's what such a life is.

Hell.

A group picture of the three tots is needed, so Dad Jacob sets about to pose them on the front-room couch. He will face greater challenges in life, I am certain.

The three tots: Kalib, Bryne and Lafe.

Can you remember when you were very small and an adult, especially a pretty woman, smiled at you and spoke in a certain kind of voice and said something that made you feel like you were very unique and special?

That is how Sarah, Bryne's mom, is causing Kalib to feel, right here.

Cake time! Lavina blows on Kalib's behalf, lays the flame down and out it goes.

Sadly, Bryne was gone by now, leaving the cake all to the boys. Left to their natural male tendencies, they made hogs of themselves.

"That's enough sugar for you," Lafe's Mom Markie says just before yanking him prematurely from the cake. "Remember what happened the last time you ate too much sugar?"

With Lafe removed, Kalib has the cake to himself. He will be hyper not only for the remainder of the day, but on and off through the night, as well.

One only gets one first birthday party. Might as well go full hog.

The adults eat their cake (cut from a second slab that no one had wallowed in). Kalib demands more.

Something has upset Lafe. Maybe a ride in Kalib's new sled will make him feel better.

When Kalib saw Lafe riding across the floor in the sled that he had received for Christmas, he came crawling across the floor about three times faster than I had ever saw him crawl before. Until this moment, I did not realize that Kalib had such a strong sense of ownership over that sled.

Kalib opens his presents.

A present lights up; Kalib reaches for the light.

Among Kalib's new presents was a frog puppet. At first he wasn't interested, but Lafe was. Then, when Kalib saw how much Lafe liked the puppet, he became interested.

Eventually, everyone had to say goodbye. Of course, this goodbye is from much earlier, when Bryne and her parents left, but I only wanted to have one goodbye here, so I saved it for now.

My dear Melanie! When she arrived at the house, the driveway was filled with vehicles, so she decided to park at the side of the road. She did not realize that the snow plow operator had drug his blade partially over the culvert, cutting flat the snow that topped it so that the culvert looked like it was the shoulder of road.

Thus, when Melanie pulled over to park, her right wheels sank through the deception and into the culvert.

Jake had to pull her out. Kalib helped hook up the car as Muzzy supervised.

See how pretty the snow is, bunched up on the spruce branches?

A big wind would arise overnight and blow it all away.

Life, right here in Wasilla, Alaska, is like that.

Click on any photo to see a larger copy.

Kalib's first birthday, part 1: flashback one year to his actual birth day

In just 45 minutes, guests should begin to arrive to help us celebrate Kalib's first birthday. I had not yet begun this blog when he was born at 3:19 AM, December 26, 2008, so I am going to flashback one year to that day. This way, when I post the pictures from the party, readers will be able to put them in context.

Shortly after the birth, the scene was calm, peaceful, joyous and serene as Kalib bathed in the love of his mom and dad. Of course, it did not start out that way.

It began in pain, along with a disruption of our Christmas plans. Jacob was working on a roast, which he was marinating and doing various things to enhance the flavor. As usual, we were cooking turkeys out here and pies and all of that kind of thing. The baby was not due for another week.

Then in the afternoon, we got a call that Lavina's water had broke and they were headed to the hospital. Jake had to put his roast aside. 

The emergence was not imminent, so the rest of us ate our dinner and exchanged our gifts. The word was we could confidently wait until after we got a good night's sleep to come in, because the baby was not coming fast.

Still, we could not wait. We climbed into the car and drove to Providence Hospital in Anchorage. We entered the delivery room a bit after midnight and this is what we found.

The stuffed St. Bernard is the original Muzzy, the one Jake gave Lavina years before, when they were in no position to have one of the eating, breathing, slobbering, bounding, loving, pooping kind.

Jake holds Lavina's hand. In this way, he helps her bear the pain that we who sire the babies can never know. Once, Jake caused his mother that same kind of pain. When it reached its worse, she told me that she had changed her mind.

"Take me home," she said. "I changed my mind. I don't want to do this anymore. Take me home right now." She was not joking. She meant it. 

I did not take her home. She got very angry with me. Margie doesn't often get angry, but she did then.

Lavina bore her pain quietly, hugging stuffed Muzzy, holding Jacob's hand as her good friend Natalee massaged her back, moaning and crying out lightly now and then, but never did she scream. Margie and Melanie watched the baby's heart beat on the monitor, as it sped up, slowed down, then sped up again.

Obviously, the baby was having a remarkable experience.

 Natalie Massages Lavina as Jake comforts her from the other side. Shortly after this, a nurse came in and told us that the baby was almost a good ten to hours away from being born and that we should go get some sleep and then come back refreshed for the big moment.

I was leery about leaving, as I did not want to be gone when baby appeared, but I was extremely tired and so was Margie.

At that time, Jacob and Lavina lived in an apartment less than two miles from the hospital. So we drove over there, to bunk with the flesh and blood Muzzy and the calico cat, Martigny.

We had barely exchanged greetings with the cat and dog and settled down to sleep on two different couches when Margie's cell phone rang. The process had speeded up. The baby was about to be born. 

We rushed over and headed for the delivery room. The door was closed. And suddenly a sound penetrated the door - the sound of a baby's first cry. I wept. 

Natalee came out as the nurses cleaned baby and Mom up. She smiles as she listens to the cry of the newborn.

Soon we were in the room with Mom, Dad, and newborn son. Mom and Dad had waited until the moment of birth to learn his sex. For a boy, they had already picked the name, Kalib. In full: Kalib Lokaa'Dine Hess, in honor of his Navajo clan. In both Apache Navajo cultures, the children belong to the clan of their mother, so this worked out just fine.

Have you ever heard a sound more beautiful than the cry of a healthy, newborn baby?

I haven't.

A baby's cry is the most beautiful sound in the world.

Not even Mozart ever created a sound more beautiful than this.

Mom, Dad, Kalib and gramma.

Having missed Christmas dinner, Lavina now eats a corn chip.

Dad kisses Kalib.

Mom kisses Kalib.

Dad and Kalib.

Kalib and Uncle Caleb. Caleb soon proved himself to the very definition of doting uncle.

Newborn Kalib.

Newborn Kalib with new mittens.

Kalib Lokaa' Dine Hess - our first grandson.

Well, Kalib's first birthday party has now been over for about two hours. Yes, I was unable to finish this entry before it began - with no small thanks to the glitches and vagaries of Squarespace - but now I have.

Soon, I will blog Kalib birthday party #1.

Click on any image to see a larger version.

Christmas Day, 2008, Wasilla, Alaska - post 2: we eat, give gifts, and go to the movie

We sat down to eat our Christmas dinner about 4:00 PM. Baby Kalib was in the bedroom he shares with his parents, fast asleep.

About half-way through, we heard him cry. His mom went back to get him. Everyone was pleased to see him. See the picture of Kalib on the cabinet? I took that on the day that he was born - December 26, 2007.

Guess who's going to be the big star of tomorrow's entry?

The first gift that I grabbed from under the tree was addressed to Stephanie, from Charlie. Everyone watched as she opened it. It was ear rings. After that, the gift unwrapping became a free-for-all.

Everyone cheered when baby Kalib sat down in his new sled.

I got a new pair of snowshoes. Ever since the snow stuck in early October, I have been longing to put on my cross-country skis and head into the mountains. But the doctor told me to be patient, to wait until next year. Lately, the kids heard me talking about how I was going to get my skiis out, and go, and they thought it would be safer for me to be on snowshoes.

I have a pair, somewhere, but who knows where? Maybe one of my kids borrowed them. I don't think I am in good enough shape right now to go very far on snowshoes. But I will soon go, anyway.

After the gift-giving, we went to the 7:00 PM showing of "Marley and Me" at the Wasilla theatre. I usually avoid this theatre, because the movie rooms are very small and the tiny screens cannot hold the full image, but none of us felt like driving to Anchorage or even Eagle River, so here we went.

Baby Kalib started to cry after awhile. His Dad took him out into the hall until he quieted down, then brought him back in. Soon, he started to cry again. Dad again got up, but Margie wanted him to be able to enjoy the movie, so she got up and spent the rest of it out in the hall with baby Kalib.

This is how I found them when the movie was over.

Afterward, we returned to the house and ate pumpkin chiffon pie and raspberry goup. Melanie made the pie. It was superb! Lavina whipped up the goup. It was the best goup that I have ever eaten.

I should have taken a picture, but I was too busy eating pie and goup.

note: A click will reveal a larger copy of any photo.

Flashback to India, August, 2007: the girl who Latika brought to mind; two of her street peers

In the previous post, I refered to the movie Slumdog Millionaire and mentioned how, when I saw the character Latika begging on the streets of Mumbai, I thought of a girl whose path had crossed mine in Bangalore. This is not her, although I did meet him on the same day.

When he first showed me the snake and the tiny chess set, I told him, politely, that I did not wish to buy either, or anything else that he was selling. He must have been quite certain that he could change my mind because, over the next couple of hours I roamed here and there and he continually materialized in front of me, smiling, exuding complete confidence that this time I would be either so charmed, impressed, or exasperated that I would buy from him.

When I look at this picture now, I kind of wish that I had bought that snake from him.

I hope he is doing well. Maybe he will be a millionaire one day.

These flying legs do not belong to the girl that I first thought of, either, but they do belong to someone who also survives by making her living on the India street. I was riding in an "auto-rickshaw" with my nephew and niece, Vijay and his wife Vidya, and we were briefly stopped in backed up-traffic. I glanced at the driver's mirror. I saw the reflection of a girl as she wind-milled our way in cartwheels from behind, nimbly navigating the narrow gap between two uneven rows of vehicles, all jam-packed tightly together.

Quickly, I raised my camera and shot, hoping to catch her image as she cart-wheeled by. The first part of her to enter my frame was this - her upturned, bare, foot which barely escaped her long, billowy, pantaloons.

The momentum of her cartwheel pulls her all the way into my frame...

and then she stops, obviously surprised.

This is the girl who Latika made me think of.

And when I saw her up ahead of me, begging like this, getting turned away, I thought of my oldest daughter, Melanie, when she was the same age.

There are strong resemblances between them, both in physique and facial structure.

She went from car to car, begging.

And then she was at our cab. Latika. My own daughter.

I look at this picture that I took as part of my incessant quest to document the world as it unfolds around me and I feel helpless. There is no way for me to know, but I hope that there is not a Fagan, a Maman, waiting to confiscate her earnings, eager to manipulate by other means her profibility in future years.

For the moment, when she stands in front of me, it does not matter. I must give her something. One way or another, even if by chance it means I must also fund to an even greater degree an evil Fagan, her survival depends upon it.

The only thing is, at some point in every day that one roams in India, he must stop giving, for there are too many open hands that reach toward him and he lacks the capacity to drop something, even small, into each of them.

Yet, I cannot tell you how badly I yearn to return to India. Every single day I feel this desire. And it has been a year and four months now. And each day when I look into the mirror, I see more white in my beard than I did before. And now the white even creeps into my hair.

What the hell was God thinking, to create such a magnificent, full, complex, challenging and diverse earth, and to give a human such a short time to get to know it?