New York City: Subway Series, Part 1 - Music and Love; Wasilla: waiting for breakfast at Family

Where did he come from? What did he do there? What did he plan to do here? What is his instrument? Where does his mind go when he plays it? How much does he earn? How many people does he feed? What thoughts go through the mind of the fellow on the bench beside him? So many questions, but the train door opens and I rush through before it can shut me out.

The door closes behind me and I sit down. I see these two, who look to be in love; she exhausted, he intent, curious; she finds comfort on his strong shoulder. Those on either side intently ignore them.

A click will make the image bigger.

One wonders why life passes by so quickly, why age and deterioration downgrade the body even as desire remains young.

What do they find so interesting in this booklet? I want to read it and find out for myself. I doubt that I ever will. Too many other things to read, too many books that I want to read but never will. Too many more books I want to write. Reasonable health and life provided, I will write some of them, but it is clear to me that I have already used up too much time to ever write them all. 

So why do I waste time blogging?

Blogging is fun. Damn, it is fun!

I could ask the same questions of this gentleman from Africa as I did the one from Asia. I did ask him one question, but he did not seem to have the English to answer. Or maybe he had the English, but did not wish to be bothered into making answers.

His music was good. I liked it. 

It seemed to me that he should be playing on a stage somewhere, in front of an auditorium, rather than in a subway station. The thought struck me that perhaps he does both - plays on a stage, and then in the subway, too. Maybe when he goes home, friends and family gather about and he plays and others sing, drum and play even more instruments - maybe a guitar.

Today in Wasilla, beginning at Family Restaurant:

Margie and I were fortunate and got a table within two minutes of walking in. But Family was crowded today. All who came after us had to wait to be seated.

More who must wait.

The boys sit as they wait to be seated.

This boy seems to grow impatient.

As she waits, she gets a gumball.

Those who wait will get seated. Family Restaurant is very popular and there are many more tables than the few seen here.

After breakfast, I drop Margie off at Wal-Mart - a popular raven hangout.

After Margie gets off work, I drive her and Lisa to the Espresso Cafe. Lisa orders an iced Americano, which strikes me as crazy, since the temperature is in the teens. The barista is glad to fill Lisa's "Alaska for Obama" mug, as she is a supporter, too.

It's amazing how many Barack Obama supporters I encounter, right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

Wasilla: Halloween drive to Anchorage to send Kalib south; New York City: On the way to the Met I walk by a bus

I barely get home from New York City and all of a sudden I find we must send baby Kalib to Arizona. This means a drive to Anchorage, where we will pass him off to his mom and dad at a Halloween chili feast. Margie dresses him in his St. Bernard outfit, buckles him into his car seat and then gives him his little fish book, meant to be read upside down.

As we pass through downtown Wasilla, three blocks from the wisdom of Main Street, we pass by a fender bender. Perhaps it would not have happened had the drivers been cruising Main Street instead of Lucille. Unlike Main Street, even Governor Palin knows that a great deal of foolishness takes place on Lucille Street.

As we approach Wasilla Lake, we happen upon a hitchhiker. I do not pick him up. To see a larger copy of the image, just click on it. This is a good example of the modern day beautification of Wasilla.

Before we can reach "Mocha Me Crazy," we are passed by a white dog in a red 4x4. To better see the dog, click on the picture. 

Needing a bit of a caffeine kick to continue, we pull up behind the pick-up parked at the drive-through window of "Mocha Me Crazy." I witness money being exchanged for coffee.

Then we pull up to the window. As we wait, a truck appears on the highway in front of us.

Next a school bus comes by. I see no students in it, only the driver.

As we sip our coffee, we pass by Pioneer Peak. 

We approach Anchorage, where hot steam rises through the cold, still, air.

As we drive toward the Native hospital, Providence hospital looms in front of us. I think about my two stays there in June. It is a great hospital. I owe Providence so much - in more ways than one. Damned insurance company. Their rep lied when he sold me the coverage so long back - said that if anything happened to me in out in the roadless areas, the insurance would cover my air ambulance bill. That air-ambulance bill came to about $40,000. Insurance says they do not have to pay it. 

That's not all they're not paying. Damned insurance company.

When people speak of the deplorable state of health care in the US, they always talk about the huge, growing number of uninsured. They need to talk more about the problems of being insured.

But I love Providence hospital. Thank you, Providence, for what you did for me.

We stop at the day-clinic at the Native hospital, because Lisa works there and wants to see Kalib before he goes to Arizona. I wait in the car, by the words that honor our convicted Senator, Ted Stevens. The Native hospital has always cared for my family, myself excluded, and by and large it has done a good job. I believe it is the best Native hospital in the country - because of Senator Ted Stevens.

So much in this state that is good is there because of Senator Stevens.

Whether he was rightly convicted or wrongly convicted, this has been a sad, sad, sad week for Alaska. 

We arrive at the Halloween chili eating party at Duane Miller & Associates, an engineering firm. Melanie works there and invited us so that we could sample her pumpkin chili. "20,000 moose can't be wrong," her little sign, the one that promoted her chili over the many other vats made by other employees, beckoned. Here is the pumpkin chili cooker (and it was tasty - spicy - hot - the hottest of the four chilies that I tried - and the best) holding Kalib before he leaves for Arizona.

Melanie had been very worried that her brother, Jake, my oldest son, would not show. She wanted to show her engineer brother off to her engineering firm coworkers. But he did show, and then he and Lavina took Kalib from us and headed off for Arizona. 

Charlie, Melanie's boyfriend, got into the picture. It is a good thing he is standing behind everybody, because he came dressed as a 70's man, in big 7o's style, baby-blue bell bottoms and a shirt with ruffles - not to mention an absurd sports jacket. He looks ridiculous.

That's the same kind of clothes I wore to my wedding reception. At least Margie looked beautiful, her lovely dark skin and long, jet-black hair set off against her white dress.

And now I back up to Wednesday of last week, in New York City:

I had intended to make tonight's New York entry a series of subway pictures. But it is too late and I am too tired. So I put in this bus instead. I took it as I walked to the Met. It looks like this guy Dexter must be a killer or something. 

New York City: Mikhael Subotsky - W. Eugene Smith grant winner; Wasilla: mean dog, cute baby

This is Mikhael Subotsky, the Cape Town, South Africa, photojournalist* who won this year's $30,000 W. Eugene Smith Memorial Fund Grant in Humanistic Photography and he is just about to inflict significant pain upon me. Following the awards ceremony, the Fund hosted Subotsky and several others of us who had played a roll in this year's event at a fine, French restaurant where diners are greeted by a calico cat.

After dinner, a group of us were standing on the corner waiting for cabs and that is when I took this picture with my Canon Powershot G9 point and shoot pocket camera. I had wanted to bring my big, heavy, Canon 1Ds M III with me to New York, because of the quality of pictures that it produces - especially under low light such as this. Yet, given the state of my still healing shoulder, I knew that I could not handle carrying the weight of that camera around New York, so I left it home and took only the G9.

Subotsky's cab came first. Before getting into it, he shook hands with everybody on the corner. I had meant to warn him that I had broken my shoulder in June and that my whole arm and hand was still sore and delicate, but before I could, he clenched my hand in a vice-grip and vigorously pumped it up and down.

Despite the sudden pain, I managed not to howl out or scream. He then let go of my hand, and, as I struggled to maintain my composure, with his left hand he suddenly gave me a good, hearty, vigorous, friendly, cuff directly over what had been one of my major fractures.

I gritted my teeth and suppressed the scream that tried to escape me. I smiled, expressed once again my admiration for the powerful, stunning, poetic, enlightening look this 27-year old photographer has taken at this often dark life that we all share and then said good-bye as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Not far from Broadway and 84th Street, where Sue Brisk, of the Funds Board of Trustees dropped me off by cab, I spotted this homeless man pushing his cart past the trappings of a fantasy world so impossible to him. This gave me a good excuse to point my camera at a fantasy image of the kind that I never have nor ever expect to get to take - although I damn well sure could, given the lights, the model, the assistants and the time.

I damn well sure could!

I attended this year's awards ceremony because I had won a first runner-up grant in 1999 and, as a Smith fellow, had now been invited to show a sample of work I had done since. Furthermore, as my little hometown has recently become famous, infamous, and notorious, I was asked if I might show some Wasilla photos as well.

The test run went fine, but - oh my! The presentation! Technological nightmare. Instead of photos, I put on a display of gigantic pixels over tiny images, some of which hinted at possible photography. 

Fortunately, I quickly realized that the situation had gone to hell and was not likely to get better and so I joked about it and kept everybody laughing all the way to the end and afterward managed to get a bunch of positive comments anyway.

I then spent the rest of the week in New York and I walked all around, at least ten and maybe sometimes 15 miles each day. I rode the subway, again and again and again. As I walked and rode, I snapped a hodge-podge of images with my little pocket camera.

Now, I will devote my next few entries to samples of my New York grab shots.

To keep the blog relevant to Wasilla, each time I do I will also include a few of the Wasilla images that I took to New York to show. To keep the blog timely to the day, I will end each of these presentations with some pocket-camera Wasilla images from the date of the post.

Here, then, are the three images that I used to introduce Wasilla to New York:

And yes, this damn dog bit me. Later, when it came after me again, its owner assured me that the dog was all bark and no bite, a truly loving and gentle character, not an individual to fear at all.

And here are five images from today in Wasilla:

My flight arrived at convicted Ted Stevens International Airport in Anchorage at 1:15 this morning. Daughter Melanie picked me up and got me home by about 3:00 AM. I slept in until 10:00 AM, then, as I always do the morning after I return from a trip, I got up and took Margie to breakfast, Kalib too.

A bit later, we ate lunch at Taco Bell, which now sits in the parking lot of the new Wasilla Target, where someone took a cigarette break, and talked on her phone. After New York, where people amazed me by bundling up in warm weather - some even wrapped their faces in scarves - it felt quite cold here, even though it was actually a nice, pleasant day in the teens. Single digits, now that evening has fallen (and come morning, a few degrees below zero).

As you can see, Rupright survived the primary and is still vying to take over Sarah Palin's old job. I have no idea why. If I can meet him, I will ask him, and share his answer with you.

The other primary survivor was Metiva. Same goes for him, should I meet him.

I end this day's presentation with baby Kalib and his mother - my wonderful daughter-in-law, Lavina, photographed in our driveway, right here in Wasilla, Alaska.

*Mikhael Subotsky's webpage.

The poodle failed in its chase

 

A poodle chases after its master, a man who had just stopped to ask me how my shoulder was doing. It's doing good, I told him. Lot's better now. Far from 100 percent, but getting there.  

Hint: click on the photo to get a bigger look at it.

The poodle returns toward its home.

The poodle looks back, to see if maybe its master has changed his mind.

The poodle does not see its master. It only sees me.

The poodle gives up and heads back to its house.

The dog that lives at the shop in the first picture where the boat is comes over to stand in front of the campaign signs placed by the master of the poodle.

I leave the dogs behind and find a leaf in a puddle.

I return home and find a dog there, too. You might wonder why I did not take Muzzy on my walk. I cannot handle Muzzy by myself. Maybe, when my shoulder is completely better, I will take Muzzy on a walk with just me.

As you can see, Muzzy is hurt that I left him home. He does not understand about my shoulder.

My daughter carries two signs in protest at the Delaney Park Strip in Anchorage

Driving to the Palin Protest...  

Not them - me. I'm the one driving to the Palin protest. I don't know where these two are driving to. They just happened to be in an open-cockpit, yellow, jeep that pulled up behind me when I stopped for a red light, so I photographed their reflection in my rear-view mirror.

On the day before - Friday - my flight on Alaska Airlines left Barrow at 8:00 PM Friday, landed in Anchorage just before 11 and Margie picked me up. By the time I retrieved my luggage and we made our way through road construction traffic diversions, stopped at Taco Bell and then continued on to our house in Wasilla, it was nearly 2:00 AM. I had been looking forward to spending Saturday at home, being lazy, doing whatever I damn well felt like doing, but after I entered the house, I learned that Lisa, my youngest daughter, had made signs and was going to carry them in a protest against Sarah Palin to be held in Anchorage the next afternoon.

So that's why I drove to Anchorage and wound up stopped at a red light with these two behind me.

The protest was scheduled to last for two hours, and I arrived after it had been going on for about an hour and fifteen minutes. I looked around for Lisa, but I could not see her.

The protest was aimed at Palin's recent maneuverings to derail "Troopergate," investigation launched by a majority Republican vote of the Alaska State Legislature to try to determine why she fired Walt Monegan from his job as Public Safety Commissioner. When the investigation was launched, Palin promised that she and her staff would cooperate fully with the investigation, that they would be completely open and forthright in every aspect of it. She changed her mind after she became McCain's VP candidate. 

When her husband, Todd, and some of Palin's top aides received Legislature subpoenas to give testimony to the investigator, Attorney General Talis Colberg instructed them to ignore the subpoenas.

Unhappy protesters called for Colberg to be fired and disbarred for obstructing justice, and Palin to be impeached.

According to the Anchorage Daily News, about 1000 people participated in the protest, although the crowd was notably smaller than that by the time I arrived. I thought it should be easy to find Lisa. I spent most of my time wandering around, looking for her, reading signs, looking for the two that she had told me she made. I could not find Lisa. I could not find her signs.

There was a speaker's platform with many people crowded together. As I had not found her elsewhere, I thought maybe I would find her there. I put myself in a spot where I could study the crowd, a spot where Lisa would likely see me if I did not see her.

But I did not see her, nor did she appear to say, "hi Dad! I'm over here."

So I took a few pictures of this guy as he read a speech for another guy who had been unable to attend.

 

Then I turned to the side, and shot these people.I looked hard, but I did not see Lisa... and yet, had I just been a little more observant... look to the top and right of the picture... see the top of the head, the forehead, and the nose of the young man who is mostly hidden behind the older man wearing glasses? That head and nose belongs to Bryce, Lisa's boyfriend. 

Lisa had momentarily stepped away from the crowd. If I had noticed Bryce, or if he had noticed me, he would have told me that Lisa would be right back.

But I did not notice that it was Bryce. Bryce did not notice me. I continued to search in vain for my daughter.

I wanted to call someone, so I reached into my pocket, only to discover that my cell phone was not there. I could not have called Lisa anyway, as she is temporarily without hers. So, again, I roamed through the crowd, looking for my protesting daughter. I did not see her, but I saw geese coming. I am still using the point and shoot, and I knew that at best I could get two frames of the geese as they passed over.

So, I quickly sized up the situation, shot this frame, then turned toward a man who who held an anti-Palin sign high over his head. Quickly, I framed the picture so that his sign would be prominent below as the geese flew overhead. He saw the geese, too; he saw my camera pointed at the sky behind his sign, where the geese were about to fly. 

He was polite. He dropped his sign, so that it would not obstruct my view of the geese, leaving me only a picture of geese in an empty sky.

"Why did you drop your sign?" I scolded. "It was part of the picture! Do you think I come to a protest rally just to take pictures of flying geese?"

He felt very badly. I felt ashamed that I scolded him.

"It's okay," I consoled. "You were trying to help. You didn't know."

So I walked back to where I had parked the car, about three blocks away, to see if maybe my cell phone was in it. It wasn't. I turned around and headed back to the protest. Along the way, I spotted this cat as it crossed the road. It jumped up onto this fence. What could I do? I had to stop to take its picture.

The protest was focused on a small amphitheatre positioned just behind this statue of a soldier, one who represents all Alaska military men and women who have died fighting for the United States. Freedom of speech is one of the rights these soldiers fought for. On this day, my daughter, Lisa, and her boyfriend exercised their freedom of speech.

Before I had arrived, they had positioned themselves by the side of the road, along with many other protesters, so that passing motorists could see what they had written on their signs. Some of the passing motorists flipped them off; some said, "f--- you!"

These people also exercised their freedom of speech - in a way meant to intimidate, to strike fear into my daughter, so that maybe she would think twice before she exercised her freedom of speech again in the future.

Interesting conundrum. 

"Dad!" I finally heard her voice. "I've been looking for you." That's her, towards the right, just in front of the flag pole, wearing the Chicago Cubs hat. Lisa loves the Chicago Cubs. She attended their season opener in Wrigley Field and wants to return to be there when they play in the World Series - hopefully, this year.

This is the other sign that she made and wore. "If I put these pictures of you on the blog," I told her, "some people are going to be very angry with you. They might say mean and threatening things to you."

"I know," she said. "That's okay. They already flipped me off; they already said, F-U!" Also, she has an Obama bumper sticker on her little Chevy Cavalier. Since Palin was put on the ticket, she has noticed that she is often tailgated by the drivers of much bigger vehicles, especially when she drives into Wasilla.

She is tailgated more than she ever was before.

"Tricky Dick" was there. He claimed to support Sarah Palin in her effort to stonewall the Legislative investigation.

After the protest, Lisa, Bryce and I went to Kaladi Brothers Coffee Shop on Fifth Avenue. We hung out there for about an hour and half and laid out the solutions to a good many of the world's political problems - if only the politicians would listen to the three of us! And then act upon what we say! Then we went to the house of my other daughter, Melanie, and fed her cats. Melanie is down south, in Texas, headed to Canada. Next, we went to see, "Tropic Thunder."

Finally, I headed for home, but I had to stop and get gas before I left town. As I filled my tanks, this was the scene before me.

I had wanted to take Lisa and Bryce to dinner, but the coffee and the movie popcorn and what have you killed their appetites, so I did not. I was not hungry, either, until I got to Eagle River. Then I suddenly wanted a taco and a burrito, so I pulled off the highway and drove to Taco Bell. 

I ate my food in the parking lot, then left. I soon had to stop at a light. In front of me, I saw more freedom of speech being exercised. And yes, when the opportunity appears before me, I will be just as happy to shoot a pro-Palin rally as an anti-Palin. I'm sure it will happen. Wait and see. I'll still vote for Barack Obama, but even so, were I to get the chance to interview and photograph Barack Obama, Joe Biden, John McCain and Sarah Palin, I could lay it all out in a most even-handed manner.

Even so, John McCain, a man whom I have long admired and respected, back when he acted like John McCain, would say that I was being biased and unfair, because that is the tactical position of his campaign. 

As the hour grew late, I drove back into Wasilla. My town.