We celebrate my birthday in Anchorage to the taste of Arctic char from Kaktovik

On the evening of my birthday, I drove into Anchorage where most of the rest of my family already was. Margie had been staying with Jacob and Lavina since the day that I left for Kaktovik, as Jobe had been a little under the weather and she needed to take care of him while Lavina worked.

Soon after I arrived, Lavina threw a few of the Arctic char that I had brought back from Kaktovik onto the grill.

These particular char were given to me by Marie Rexford. Elizabeth Rexford also gave me a generous number from the cache of she and husband Fenton.

Oh, boy, was it tasty! Char is one of my favorite fish - right up there with salmon, halibut and trout.

Thank you, Marie, Fenton and Elizabeth - your generosity made my birthday extra special.

I will still try to work a few char fishing pictures in here, maybe tomorrow, maybe Sunday, maybe Monday.

I am told that Kalib still wields the spatula - usually on a weekend morning when he is cooking eggs, but I have not personally seen him carry the spatula for awhile.

It had been rainy and cool when I drove out of Wasilla, but when I got out of the car at Jacob and Lavina's house, the sun shone brightly upon me and I was surprised by how hot it felt - just like I remember from the southern Arizona desert.

Well, maybe not quite that hot.

We ate on the table that graces the back deck of Jacob and Lavina's house. When I sit here, I am always amazed at the typical American suburban environs my son and daughter-in-law have planted themselves in and how comfortable they seem within.

After dinner, a few of us sat in the living room and talked while others readied something out in the kitchen that I was not supposed to see just yet.

It was Lisa whose stories dominated the conversation, and they were mostly about the dogs that she had been caring for while their owners were away. One day, she came to the house to find that one of the dogs had pooped on important tax papers. She had to save those papers, and the process involved rubber gloves and drying and sterilizing things and it was not pleasant.

Charlie said the dog had only done what everybody wants to do.

After she told the story, Jacob came out with Jobe. Jobe tackled Jacob.

Look up there, on the wall. It's Jobe's Apache cradleboard, the one made especially for him by one of the most skilled cradleboard makers on the White Mountain Apache Reservation - his Aunt LeeAnn.

Jobe will never sleep in it again.

That makes me kind of sad, yet I so greatly enjoy watching him grow, learn and experience.

Margie came out, pulled the curtains and turned out the lights. Then Melanie entered from the kitchen, followed by Kalib, Margie and Lavina. She carried the object that I had not been allowed to see until now. It was a flaming cake that she had made, just for me.

Count the number of candles and you will see that on my birthday, I turned younger than I had been for five decades.

The little ones watched intently as grandma inhaled a deep breath. Could he do it? Not quite!

So Kalib, the expert candle blower-outer, finished the job.

Once again, I drove home by myself. Jobe was doing quite a bit better, but Lavina's good friend, Sandy, has hit her due date and could go into labor at any minute. She wants Lavina with her when she delivers and Lavina has promised that she will be. 

Jacob had to leave for Kipnuk early in the morning, so Margie stayed to be on hand to care for the little ones should another little one choose the next day to be born.

This is what I saw as I neared Wasilla, just a few minutes before midnight.

Midnight won't look like this for much longer.

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Jobe's stepping out party, part 2: The bearded, hairy, man appears and he is shorn

Not long after Margie and I had arrived to celebrate Jobe's first steps at his stepping out party, another vehicle pulled in. A stranger got out and started walking to the door. Inside, we were all very frightened because this stranger did not even ring the doorbell, he just opened the door and walked into the house.

Who could it be?

As the stranger reached the baby barrier at the top of the stairs, we could all see something oddly familiar in his appearance.

Was this man someone known to Ashley, Kalib and Jobe's little cousin who you will learn a bit more about in a future part?

No. Ashley was as puzzled by his appearance as we were.

The stranger moved to the couch. Jobe sure as hell did not recognize him.

"Who the hell are you?" Jobe asked. We were all very impressed and proud. Not only had Jobe just taken his first steps, he had uttered his first cuss word - and in the context of a fully formed sentence!

Jobe is pretty good at identifying people by the feel of their teeth. He reached out and placed his fingers inside the man's mouth so that he could get a good feel of the teeth.

"By hell!" Jobe shouted silently. "I recognize these teeth! It's Uncle Rex!"

By hell, it was. Rex - looking as we had not seen him look in a very long time. In fact, we had never seen him look quite this way, for he has changed a bit since last he was last clean shaven and his hair cut. Given his stubble, I thought perhaps he had already begun to regrow his beard.

"No," he said. "I shaved just two days ago. I don't want to shave every day, but I'm not growing it back."

Me - it's been close to three decades since I last shaved.

I found shaving to be a terrible and annoying waste of time.

It's snowing today, btw. Margie stayed in Anchorage to babysit Jobe and she says it is snowing pretty heavy there - a few inches so far. It is a light snow here. Maybe a quarter of an inch since breakfast.

This entire winter, we did not get a single really good snowstorm here. Just a few little ones.

I doubt that we will now, either. It would be fun, though, if we did - but not until after I go into town tonight to pick up Margie, among other things.

Here is Rex with his beard and long hair.

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Jobe's parents come to get him; Kalib loses his spatula - what could take its place? Two beggar boys and a puppy; tomorrow, I return to Kivgiq

In the morning, Jobe's parents called to tell us they were about to leave Anchorage to drive to Wasilla. They suggested that we meet them at IHOP, where they would buy us breakfast.

So, about 45 minutes later, I bundled Jobe up and packed him into his car seat.

Then we were all together in IHOP and it was busy there - as it always is on a Sunday morning.

Jobe was happy to see his parents, alright, but the moment after he exchanged his greetings with them, he wanted to come back to his grandpa.

That's just how it is with Jobe and me.

Kalib, however, was most content to settle down in the loving arms of his mom.

Except that he also wanted to spend time with his dad. 

Jobe did find himself the recipient of some special Mom love, but even then his mind was on grandpa.

We returned home and in a bit Jobe's Uncle Rex showed up. Jobe was glad to see him, but still his thoughts were on grandpa.

Then Dad decided to read a book to Jobe. For a moment, Jobe was interested.

Then he decided he would rather be held by his grandpa than to hear how the story came out. So he pushed away from his dad...

...and came to me, so that I could hold him, which I did. Afterward, I decided that I had better go into my office, so that Jobe could visit other people. Plus, I had to put up yesterday's blog post.

Perhaps one day, Jobe will rebel, as young people do, and grow tired of his old grandpa. Perhaps Jobe will avoid me then, strive not to be seen by his peers with me.

Perhaps not. Perhaps he will be one of those young people who hangs tight with grandpa, no matter what.

He will always know his grandpa loves him. And, whether his rebellion draws him away from me for a time or not, I will know that he loves me, too.

He has already made it manifest. Such love does not just go away, but survives through youthful rebellion.

Plus, maybe before he hits that rebellion we will catch some fish together and cook them over hot coals and then eat them and then, even when he is rebelling, he will sometimes remember such moments fondly.

Jobe - my canoe has been dormant since I shattered my shoulder, but it will soon be time to activate it again.

Maybe Kalib, The Spatula Kid, can cook those fish for us. But it was kind of sad - Kalib came to the house with no spatula. His spatula is lost. No one can find it. His parents tried to give him another, but he would not accept it. It was THAT spatula or no spatula.

So he found a pair of tongs and has been packing those around instead. I understand that he has used them to turn hot dogs over, or maybe it was hamburgers.

He finds the tongs to be good for grabbing many things.

Still, I hope the spatula is soon found.

If it is, will he still want it?

Or will he only want the tongs, now?

Now that he has learned that he can grab things with them.

Just be careful what you grab, Kalib - especially when it comes to human and cat body parts.

When it came time to go, Kalib headed to the car with his parents. Jobe did, too. 

This is the last day of the three day weekend and I have actually managed to rest up a bit. Tomorrow, I will return to my Kivgiq photos.

And this from India: Two beggar boys and a puppy

At one stop, I came upon these boys and this puppy. They were beggar boys, hoping to get a few coins from anyone who would give them. I believe that I have mentioned this before, but I was counseled by a number of sources not to give money to the beggars. I was told that what I could not see on the streets was the Fagan-like scroundrels operating unseen in the background - unscrupulous, cruel individuals who would send young children, mothers, and old people out onto the streets to beg and who would then collect the bulk of their earnings and keep them for themselves.

As to adult beggars who might not be tied into such rings, I was told that most of them were people who could work but who had chosen not to, but to beg instead and I should not encourage them. There are temples all about India where food is gathered in generous quantities and served to the poor, that none are turned away, that those who truly need it can find sustenance at these temples and that those who truly want to help donate to the temples - not the beggars themselves.

Still, it was very hard for me and I did pass on a number coins in India. Even if it should be true that a Fagan-like character was going going to take most of the money I gave to a child or mother of the street, that child or mother's survival is still tied to whether or not he or she is going to bring back enough revenue to stave off the wrath of Fagan.

The fact is, though, that so many people are out begging that one with limited resources himself can only give out so many coins and then he must stop or he will have no more coins for himself.

I have found this to be true in many American cities as well.

The bigger boy wanted me to photograph him with the puppy, but he did not want the little boy to be in the picture.

The little boy was determined to be in the picture.

I believe that I have also noted that in the short time that we were blessed to spend with Soundarya and Anil, who truly did not have that much themselves and would struggle with financial matters up until their deaths, on a number of times I saw one, the other, or both of them step quietly aside to give a coin to a beggar.

That's how my Sandy was - and her husband, too.

Generous people, both.

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Even on this birthday, Melanie remains trustworthy; cats are not wierd, they are normal

Those of us who were free gathered together to celebrate Melanie's birthday. I will not tell you what birthday it was, but I will note that when I was a young adult, we feared this birthday above all others. The belief among young people was that no matter how good a person was before they hit this birthday, once they reached it, the ways of the world would overtake them and they could not be trusted after that.

Hell.

Melanie can still be trusted.

Now I will move write along, writing very little, because I have already spent quite a bit of time editing, preparing and placing pictures and I do not have time to write much. So I won't. Because if I write words that I do not need to write, it will just eat up my time, so why should I write such words that waste time when I do not need to write them?

So I won't write much.

Just a little bit.

Not much at all.

Because it would waste time.

And I do not have time to waste.

So I will write very little today.

I will just show you the pictures.

And not worry about writing many words.

That would be a waste of time when all that you need to know is in the pictures.

Well, maybe are other things that should know, too - like how to do math, for example.

Math is a good skill for anyone to have.

Here is Lavina, making frybread.

Once must have some comprehension of math to make frybread.

Otherwise, one might make 100 frybreads, when one dozen would do.

Or use 6 teaspoons of salt when one would be just right.

Kalib entered carrying his spatula, but then laid it down. I picked it up. He did not quite know what to think about that.

Melanie prepares her Navajo/Apache taco.

The tacos were damn good.

The day before, Rex had submitted his entry for a grant to help him with a sculpture that he hopes to create and then display at Burning Man in Nevada this summer. Unfortunately, due to some computer shenanigans, much of his proposal did not get submitted. Only a piece of it.

Anyway, this is model of only a piece of what he hopes to create. In the real thing, this salmon skeleton will be five foot long and there will also be a whole salmon, concrete, five feet long and a number of other elements as well.

His sculpture will cover some significant space.

I hope he gets the damn grant. 

Melanie was presented with two birthday cakes, not one. I am not sure why. I did not ask. I know Charlie made one of the cakes. I'm not sure who made the other.

Lisa made the frosting.

We ate the cakes with vanilla ice cream and they were damn good.

Afterward, she opened gifts.

All of the gifts were damned good.

Charlie gave her a damned good book titled "Cats Are Wierd." Not withstanding the fact that it is a damned good book, I take exception to the title.

Cats are not weird. As you can see, Diamond is as normal as normal can be.

Bear Meach is not weird.

Melanie observes Bear Meach being normal as Rex and Margie wash dishes.

Kalib studies Poof. "This cat is not weird," he would have proclaimed, had the proper words come to him to thus proclaim.

Perhaps it is little boys, not cats, who are weird.

Jobe goes for Poof, who is not weird.

The Three Musketeers showed up: Carl, Charlie and Bryce. They did not bring their swords. I was disappointed. I wanted to borrow a sword to cut the cake.

As the party drew towards its wild conclusion, Kalib crawled up to see his mom.

Two of my children, paired off. Lisa came late to the party, because she is carrying such a heavy load between being a full time student and full time job, and taking on extra tasks to help pay for it all.

She must deal with stress.

And then, as always happens, the time came to say goodbye, see you later.

Always this time comes. 

What a fine thing it has been these past 30 years to have Melanie as my daughter.

An absolutely fine thing.

Oh, dear! I was not going to say, "30 years," but I did.

Even so, I trust her.

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Rex, Ama, Chicago and the burning man; Yes, we have bananas, we have lots of bananas today

We had not seen Rex and Ama since Christmas. Late yesterday afternoon, they dropped in for a visit. Chicago could not believe her happy eyes. She stepped onto Rex's lap and looked him in the eye. "Where the hell you been, bro?" she asked.

"I've been to Tennessee, cat," Rex answered. This was a lie. Rex had not been to Tennessee. He hadn't even been to Texas. 

Margie and Ama cooked up a stir-fry vegetarian meal in the wok that Jacob and Lavina gave Margie for her birthday last September. I went out to take a look.

"What would you add, Bill?" Margie asked.

I took a whiff of the scent and it suddenly seemed that orange would be just the thing.

"An orange," I said.

But we were out of oranges.

"I've got one in my pack," Rex said.

So he got it. It was a very red "blood" orange.

Margie put it into the stir fry.

The zing of the orange proved to be quite tasty in there.

Then I went and sat back on the living room couch. Chicago left Rex and came back to me. 

Late each August in northern Nevada, a very strange community of about 50,000 people comes together on a hot stretch of absolutely barren, alkaline, desert - a place where not even cactus, snakes, or spiders live. They call it "Burning Man" in honor of the huge, log, effigy of a man that is put up there every year and then burned to the ground at the end.

Except for water, coffee and tea, no concessions are allowed. Community members must bring in all their own food and supplies - and for many, that includes their own alcohol and drugs. People pedal about on the bare earth on bicycles and ride about in tiny vehicles that look like cupcakes. A hot wind blows, and dries out and dehydrates everything in sight. There is a big car that looks like a cat.

All kinds of sculptures go up. When it is over, everything must be removed so that all that is left behind is desert, looking like it did before the event.

Ama has been going to Burning Man year for years and last summer introduced Rex to it.

Now he is applying to Burning Man for a grant that would fund what he needs to build his own, large, sprawling, sculpture there, one that includes a life-size concrete replica of the largest salmon ever caught - nearly six feet in length.

I hope he gets the grant.

And now I want to go to Burning Man, too.

See what is says at the top of this blog?

One photographer's search for community, home and family...?

I think this very strange event would qualify.

And Margie, who usually shies away from adventure these days, says she would like to go, too.

I kind of doubt that we will be able to pull it off - but watch this space and find out. If not this year, then maybe next.

All I've got to do is get this blog and electronic magazine up, running and cooking along the way I want, generating income, funding itself, funding my work, being my work and then, if I want to run off to someplace strange like Burning Man just to take some pictures and blog about it, well, by hell, I can do it!

Rex and Ama are both doing Burning Man things in this picture, BTW. He is refining his ideas and she is pulling up Burning Man pictures to show Margie and I. 

From India: Vijay feeds us bananas

Here we are, in the Chennai fruit store where Vijay has brought us so that he can buy bananas and feed us - as I have noted before.

Look at all that fruit! There is probably more fruit in this one store than in all of Alaska!

Well, maybe not than "all of Alaska," but there is a lot of fruit.

Many varieties of bananas were available and Vijay wanted to give us as wide an experience as possible. He picked his bananas very carefully.

The fruit store includes a little juice bar, where you can buy fruit drinks of many types, so Vijay bought fruit drinks for Melanie and I.

And now I must say that I am very surprised and a little disappointed in myself. In my mind, I remember taking many pictures, like of Melanie getting served, the juice baristo handing my drink to me, of Vijay and such, little kids passing by on motorcycles and observing us as we drank. I intended to include a few of these in this post - but this is the only image from the fruit store juice bar that I have!

How could this be?

I am wondering if I was using two cameras and somehow forgot to download the images from one camera, because it just doesn't make any sense that I would photograph just this static scene and then quit shooting.

I also wonder if they really had Washington apples there. India grows many apples in the north and they are very good. And all of the fruit at this store, apples included, were very cheap in price compared to what the same items would cost here - just pennies on the dollar or maybe in some cases a nickel or dime.

I don't think Washington State apples would be all that cheap after having been shipped all the way to India.

I wish that I could remember the names of all these banana varieties, but I can't. In the upper right hand corner is the banana most like the ones we usually find in the store here. Those little tiny ones - they were my favorite! So sweet and tender and good and after you eat them for awhile and then come back to the states the bananas here taste kind of bland. 

The green bananas are supposed to be green. They are ripe when they are green like this.

Anyway, we ate them all. Every banana. Afterward, both Melanie and I were stuffed, but Vijay wanted to feed us more food.

I toast Vijay with a banana. The situation here is the same as the juice bar. I could swear that I took many more pictures, including ones of Melanie and Vijay eating bananas, but what you see here is all the banana photos that I have.

And that just isn't like me.

It's okay, though. Just the other week, Vijay told me that when next I, and anyone who might travel with me, come back, he is going to treat me to another banana feast, with even more varieties. Remembering how I came up short here, I will be certain to take more pictures and to tell the story right.

So just consider this to be a preview.

And this is little miss Vaidehi, daughter of Vijay and wife Vidya. In the background is Vasanthi, Vivek and Vijay's mom, who brought Melanie and I to Chennai by bus. She paid for our tickets, our lodging and all of our food except for what Vijay bought us. She would not let us pay for anything.

That's what hosts in India do - they assume complete responsibility for your survival. It is a different kind of concept for an American to grasp but that is the kind of generosity that is built into the culture and you must put aside your pride and accept, respect, and be grateful for it.

And don't argue about whose going to pay, because you will use that argument. And if by chance you see an opportunity to sneak in and pay for a lunch before your host can do so - don't do it. Because afterward you will look into their eyes and see that they feel badly. So be gracious, and accept the hospitality.

And, of course, that is Melanie who Vaidehi is so fascinated to meet.

This will do it for today, but tomorrow I will include a range of studies of little Miss Vaidehi. Her mom will be included in these studies.

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