Branson, Metro Cafe's 38 pound hockey player, knows how to score and celebrate; cat and baby at the door

Not long before I headed off on one of my Arctic Slope trips last fall, I promised Carmen that I would take some pictures of Branson, her five-year old son, doing some hockey stuff. Well, you know what happens to time. His regular season ended and now he is attending a hocky camp at the Mernard Sports Center.

He had sessions schedule for Saturday and Sunday afternoons and then one more on Wednesday. I was pretty sure I would not be able to make the Sunday session, couldn't say about Wednesday and so I decided that I had better go Saturday. I arrived with a little more than one-half hour of the session left.

Here he is: Branson, the 38-pound, five-year old, hockey player.

Branson was, in fact, the smallest person on the ice. And he was competing against some older and bigger boys - six and seven year olds who have been playing for years.

But you can see - Branson was skating hard.

Branson and competitor go after puck.

Who will get it?

They are fighting hard, now.

Now they are in front of the goal, Branson on offense, his competitor on defense determined to stop him.

Branson belts the puck past the defender.

The defender knocks Branson to the ice, but it doesn't matter: the puck he slammed is shooting right between the feet of the goalie and into the net.

Branson skates away from his successful goal shot in celebration.

Pretty soon, he does it again... and then again after that. 

He raises his puck in victory, but now he is also searching the bleachers for a familiar face. Could it be Mom? Is she there? Will he find her? Did she notice?

She is there and he does find her and she did notice.

After the scrimmage ends an adult skates by. "Congratulations on your goal," he tells Branson.

Branson, the hockey player.

Branson with his friends, Colin and Caroline. They do not play hockey. They play soccer ("football" to all my relatives and friends in India and the rest of the world).

Carmen is pretty proud. 

After I returned home, I came here into my office and went to work. I had not been working long before I heard a knock on the door.

Puzzled, I got up and opened it. Who do you think I saw standing on the other side?

It was Jim, my good black cat. "C'mon on in, Jim!" I invited. He entered and soon walked across my keyboard as I was typing.

Then I heard another knock. Again I got up and opened the door.

This time it was Jobe, who had just driven his mother and older brother out from Anchorage.

Jobe came in. Jim decided it was time to leave, jumped off my keyboard and walked to the door.

And this from India:

Feral street dog at Ooty tea farm.

View images as slide show

2010: The end of dreams, the beginning of dreams, the continuation of dreams

So this is the final day of 2010. I don't quite know what to think about that.

I had planned to do a month-by-month review of the entire year - just as I did last year before 2009 came to an end. I was also going to expand stories that I managed to get the beginnings in but never finished, or to fill in some of the huge gaps that I left out because time ran out - like at the Gwich'in Gathering, the Inuit Circumpolar Council General Assembly in Nuuk, Greenland and to complete the tribute to my late friend, Navajo artist, poet, cartoonist, songwriter, performer, husband, father, grandfather and brother, Vincent Craig.

Plus, there were many little picture stories that I got pieces of, perhaps shot in whole and never posted at all, simply because I ran out of time and energy.

So that is what I was going to devote this blog to these past couple of weeks - a review of what I did post and a glimpse at what I didn't.

But, as it happened, when it came time to review this year, I did not want to go there. I just didn't. And so I'm not. Suffice it to say that it was a year when beautiful and hopeful dreams came to abrupt and crushing ends, when new dreams sprouted, and old dreams, diminished in scope and joy but still determined, pushed on.

I took this picture of myself two days ago as I walked with ravens and breathed frost into my beard and mustache. I think it is a pretty good summation of the year 2010 as I lived it.

I will not here go into the dreams that came to an end, nor even look at those that continue, but will instead focus upon those that began. Here is such a new dream of hope and joy that began in 2010 - little Jobe, born February 12.

I know that right now he has dreams and desires, some in the very early stages, others of which have yet to even begin to shape themselves in his conscious mind.

I have a dream for him, too and it is a very simple dream - that one day, he and I might paddle a canoe together, through a quiet place frequented not by people but by animals, fish and birds, surrounded by a tiny piece of the beauty that is Alaska.

I dream that we would catch a fish or two, barbecue them on the bank or shore and then eat them together.

As for the present, or at least the very near past, this is how I found Jobe when I went into his house the other night to pick up Margie and bring her home.

This is the moment that he noticed that I had entered the room.

Jobe immediately rolled over and began to crawl towards me.

...he drew nearer...

He reached up for me...

Jobe loves his grandpa. His grandpa loves Jobe. One day, I hope, we will catch and eat fish together.

As to Jobe's older brother Kalib, many of his dreams seem to involve a spatula. Before I returned home with Margie, Lavina invited us to dinner at Taco King. Kalib brought his spatula.

Carrying his spatula, Kalib heads to the door at Taco King. Having seen how neat this picture looked large, it pains me to present it so small, but such is the format of this blog. If you click slide show, it will help a bit.

Kalib, his spatula and his mom, at Taco King.

How the moon loves the sun!

When I look at this, I cannot help but wonder what kind of babies the two might make, the sun and the moon? Stars, perhaps? A trillion, zillion, quadrillion stars?

Even more than that?

Star children, without number.

The dad joined us. Two chefs, one spatula, at Taco King.

Sometimes in a restaurant, Kalib will suddenly leave the table and start to run all over the place. I was trying to chase him down, but I had to shoot at least one frame before I caught him.

And this one from India:

Do you ever think of these two ladies when you drink your tea?

To be quite honest, I tend not to, either. But here they are, picking tea in the Ooty area of Tamil Nadu, at about 7,000 feet above sea level.

One must be careful walking about here, because there are cobras and other chooo'weet snakes slithering about amongst the tea plants.

I did not see any men picking tea - just women. Their boss, a man, told me that is because women are the more diligent workers. They stick to the job and don't goof around, he said, but men do.

He also made some kind of joke about how women deal with cobras better than men do, but I can't remember the joke.

Somehow, given the dreams that so recently came to an and abrupt end this year, including dreams that walked together not far from me in the form of a newly wed wife and husband at the moment I took this picture, the phrase "Happy New Year" does not feel quite right to me at this moment.

Yet, happiness is what I wish for us all.

May you all find happiness within the new year that is about to begin.

A request for help to the village of Savoonga

I received this message from Jenny Canfield, concerning the power outage that has left the village of Savoonga frozen:

This note comes from my good friend Ossie. His good friend Yaari is from Savoonga and they're having a tough time right now. Please read the note below and consider informing your readers, listeners, friends, coworkers, etc. 

They are mostly in need of non-perishable goods. Era aviation is providing free shipping to Savoonga.

If you're so inclined, have a food drive at your workplace. The holiday weekend is coming up, so many of you may be out of the office. Savoonga will still need your help come Monday, so please don't forget.

You can contact Yaari at 223-4124 or yaari30@yahoo.com for more information. 

per my good friend, yaari kineekuk: Savoonga (her village) had power outage for several days now. Some recovered as of yesterday. 150+ stayed at the school to keep warm; 50+ at the City Hall; 20+ at the Fire Dept. Pipes bursted, store is closed, all phones are down. If you can please help... 

View images as slide show

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, from Wasilla and Anchorage, Alaska, with lyrics and verse from Cambridge, UK; a Christian Shrine in Tamil Nadu

On Christmas Eve, Margie discovered that she was short on the yeast that she would need to make the rolls. Carr's and Fred Meyer had already closed, but Wal-Mart was open until 8:00 PM, so she sent me on a 12 mile round trip to get some.

I had the radio on, tuned to 91.1 KSKA. A Christmas program titled, "A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols," was being broadcast from The Chapel of King's College, in Cambridge, UK, founded by King Henry VI. It had been on for awhile. As I drove past Wasilla Lake, where this Nativity scene sits on the frozen shore, the narrator recited Lesson 9 and I shot the above picture.

Lesson Nine:

St. John Unfolds the Great Mystery of the Incarnation

JOHN 1

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that light, but was sent to bear witness of that light.

That was the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.

He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.

Thanks be to God.

I continued on to Wal-Mart, where I bought yeast, and oranges, too. As I drove out of the parking lot, I saw this couple headed toward their car and then hopefully home to a Merry Christmas.

Unfortunately, as I would learn when I got home, I bought the wrong yeast. Margie had sent me with a packet of the right yeast, but still I bought the wrong yeast. And I couldn't go back to get more, because it was after 8:00 and Wal-Mart was closed.

On the way home, I suddenly decided that I would park the car, walk to the Nativity and take a close-up picture. This is our 29th winter in Wasilla and I believe this scene has been up for every one of those winters, but I had never done this.

As I pulled into the parking lot at the end of the lake, a familiar Christmas carol was being sung. I do not know if it was still part of the Festival or not. I think it was, "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful," but I do not remember for certain. It might have been, "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," or maybe another one.

I had brought only a light jacket and it was fair walk from the car to the Nativity scene. It was cold. The wind was blowing. I could feel the sting on my ears, and my nose. I wasn't worried. I wouldn't be out there long.

My hands are very well cold-conditioned. I can work my camera bare-handed for hours in conditions that most people can only bear for a few minutes. Even many Iñupiat hunters have commented on my hands when they have seen me work for extended periods of time without gloves.

But they got cold in that wind. They stung, and headed in the direction of numbness.

My ears began to feel like they might drop off. So I headed back to the car.

A truck came roaring up the Parks Highway. American commerce, blasting away in frozen Alaska on Christmas Eve. Where was the truck headed? Fairbanks, maybe, or Deadhorse?

I wondered about the driver and where he or she would be on Christmas Day. With family? Camped out in the cab in the - 30, - 40, and -50 -> degree temperatures now resting over the Interior along the way.

As I pulled onto the Parks and turned toward home, the radio choir began to sing "Silent Night." They sang beautifully. And I will not tell you what happened to me. It was too hard and I don't want to go through it again.

I took this one for Jacob, Lavina, Kalib and Jobe right after Thanksgiving, so they could make a family Christmas card out of it. They made me promise not to post it until Christmas Day, so that the friends and family members they sent it to could see the card first.

As for me, to my friends and family, I apologize. I am not quite certain how it happened, but Christmas has arrived without me being ready for it. I did not make any cards. I did not send any out. Maybe Margie did, maybe she didn't. I don't know.

But, just the same...

"Merry Christmas!"

And if Christmas is not your holiday, then Happy Holidays.

And if you do not celebrate any kind of holiday at this time of year, enjoy the season.

And this one from India:

I shot this through the window of the cab that Vasanthi had hired to drive her, Soundarya, Anil, Buddy, Melanie and me to and from Ooty, Tamil Nadu, a mountainous place where tea is grown and the air grows cool at night. Somewhere in the vicinity, we came upon this shrine.

Somewhere in Bangalore there is another church. Hindu though she was, Sandy would sometimes visit that church and find peace there.

Thank you, Suji, for sharing with me.

I promise you that on this Christmas Day, I will find joy and happiness with my family. I promise. We will all hold you and your family fast in our hearts.

View as slides