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.

Steve Heimel - radio reporter and program host, keeps people driving after they would have shut their cars down

This is Steve Heimel and he bears a great deal of personal responsibility for the increasing pace of global warming and the next fuel shortage. Steve is a radio reporter and program host for the Alaska Public Radio Network and he keeps people in their cars, driving, long after they would have parked and shut down their engines, were it not for him.

How many times have I myself been driving, headed home, listening to Talk of Alaska on KSKA when Steve has asked a guest a pointed question that I would never have thought of and then sparked and moderated a discussion involving people from every region of this far-flung state that I simply could not pull myself away from, so I have driven on, spewing green house gas, burning gasoline.

And how many Sundays have I been headed home, intent on parking and getting out of the car as fast as I can, listening as Steve hosts Truck Stop on KNBA. All of a sudden, he's got Johnny Cash doing Fulsom Prison Blues and then maybe Hank Williams wailing about the tear in his beer because he's crying for you, dear, followed by Woody Guthrie declaring this land to be my land and his land.

Who can stop their car and turn off the radio in such a situation?

I sure can't. So I drive on, even as millions upon millions of other Alaskans do the same thing.

We are all helpless. We cannot shut our cars down. It's Steve's fault.

This picture is from earlier tonight, when I saw him at the "Send Congress back to DC with a Message" at Romig Middle School in Anchorage. The event was held to give Senators Mark Begich and Lisa Murkowski a pro-health care reform message as they return to Washington DC for the next session of Congress.

Before the event got under way, Steve mused about the unbelievable fact that he is 66 years old. Listen to him on the radio. He sounds like a young man.

It has been a long, busy day and I am exhausted and must go to bed, so I am going to put my pictures from that event into the queue, where they now compete with Kalib at the fair.