On a fine spring day in Wasilla, I first ride my bike, then drive my car

I rode my bike again today. I went through many puddles, but this was the biggest one.

It was fun - so much so that I turned around and rode through it again, twice. When I did, I knew how I want to live, all the time. Why can't I?

When it came time for my afternoon coffee break, I took the car. I saw a girl on a horse. Two girls on two horses, actually, but I only photographed one.

I saw a kid leaning against a bike...

...and horses in a field...

...a man riding a bicycle up Church Road...

...as he neared the top, the mountains came up in front of him.

I saw what appeared to be a family, out walking on a bike trail...

...and two young men, jogging, one manipulating his phone, the other looking at me. He probably wondered why I was taking their picture. I took it because for two seconds on this day, our lives crossed. It was a fleeting moment, but I wanted to document it forever. 

One can never document anything forever. Even those who are immortalized will be utterly forgotten. Still, even if I couldn't, I wanted to document the moment forever.

Now, you see, I rank right up there with the great philosphers - the words of whom will all one day cease to be read.

Even that moutain, it will be made flat. Or maybe it will be shattered. I don't know. I'm not a prophet. 

Just before I got home, I saw this guy, sweeping the dirt and gravel off the edge of Ward's Road. This was the strangest thing that I saw, all day. I suppose he had his reasons.

And he wore a crash helmet.

And there there was the gentleman in red, driving a four-wheeler.

This is how life is this time of year, right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

I could have went to Carl's Jr, and bought a hamburger, but I didn't.

Easter Sunday, part C: We eat and hang out

Remember those strawberries that I photographed in Carr's yesterday? Here they are again - desert, on Easter Sunday, 2009 at the Hess home in Wasilla, Alaska.

The main course was ham, mashed potatoes, potato salad and green beans. Even before dinner, we could not stop ourselves from eating eggs. When it came time for the strawberry shortcake, Kalib wandered about, mooching off of whomever he saw eating in front of him - in this case, Mom.

Charlie borrowed my guitar for awhile and filled the house with wild music. As for the guitar, it is a martin and I first saw it in the display window of a music store in Globe, Arizona, in 1976. I went inside, the salesman got it down for me, I took a seat, and played a bit of Bach on it.

Never had a guitar sounded so good in my hands. I had to have it. It cost $1800 and my annual income was $10,000. I didn't care. I put some money down on lay-away and kept paying until that day came when I could finally pick it up and bring it home.

I did love that guitar and I even played it in a master class with Christopher Parkening. Many people used to think that I was really good, but that was only because they did not know better. I knew better.

There is only one way to be really good on the classic guitar, and that is to play and play and play and play. Practice, practice, practice. I'm a photographer, I'm a writer. I hardly have time for both. How could I be a classical guitarist, too?

So I put the guitar aside, because the only thing that I could do with it was to play works that other people had composed, that other guitarists could interpret much better than I could - but I can create originals with a camera, and keyboard.

Once, during one of those times that I have mentioned when I was broke and in dire need of money, I took this guitar to a pawnshop right here in Wasilla. The fool behind the counter asked me how much it was worth. I told him.

He laughed loud and scornful, asked me what kind of fool I thought he was. At most, he said, it was worth about $150 - he had seen a lot of guitars and he knew - so he would loan me maybe $50 for it.

So I walked out of his store with no money but my guitar in its case, leaving the fool to think that he was very clever, with no idea of the profit he could have made had he given me a loan that reflected its true value, if I had then defaulted.

I often imagine that the day will come when I am able to do nothing but sit at home and write my books, and that I might then find myself with a little time to play the damn thing again.

But really, I don't think so.

As Lisa looks on in bemusement, Melanie reads a few lines from the Anchorage Daily News, concerning Wasilla's most famous resident. These are the words that she read, ""April 6, 2009, Juneau, Alaska -- Responding to the missile test by North Korea, Governor Sarah Palin today reaffirmed Alaska's commitment to protecting America from rogue nation missile attacks." 

Both of my daughters were most amused. 

Juniper came out with Lisa. We were all happy to see her, but she was unhappy the entire time that she was here.

As for the blue golf-ball, Kalib got to hunt Easter eggs twice this year. The first time in Shonto, Arizona, down in his ancestral Navajo home. There, he found an egg that designated him as a prize winner - he won a toy golf set, with a minature plastic golf cart and minature clubs, but large, blue, plastic golf balls, including this one.

Uncle "Tiger" Caleb was greatly pleased.

Melanie and Lisa continue to engage in little verbal battles, which they smile and chuckle through. Many such duels arose today, and I was at the center of at least one.

Melanie asked, "Dad, is there any way to play music in the house?"

"Dad's not anti-music!" Lisa retorted.

"I didn't say he was!" Melanie shot back.

Then everybody chuckled.

Later, their bellies full, Melanie and Charlie walked out to Melanie's car so that they could drive to Eagle River and eat a second Easter dinner with Charlie's parents.

Remember what I said when Melanie left after her last visit? It always comes to this. Every time she visits, she leaves. Every single time.

Lisa stayed longer, but, then, just before 10:00 PM, she carried Juniper to the car, came back in, passed hugs around and then she, too, drove away.

Yes, it always comes to this.

Easter Sunday, part B: Kalib and Muzzy compete to see who can scarf up the most Easter eggs (C still to come)

Not so long ago, I was hiding eggs so that this guy could toddle out to search for them. Now it is he who hides eggs for a toddler to find. 

Jacob hides an egg in plain sight atop an upturned 5 gallon bucket. As he searches for a place to put the next egg, Muzzy grabs the one that he has just hidden and eats it.

The eggs are all hidden now. The toddler comes out to find them.

Kalib finds his first egg, right on the porch. He will grab it and then, just as though he had been doing this all his life, will put it in the Easter basket his Mom made for him.

Kalib grabs another egg.

And still another. Muzzy has already stolen a couple more.

Kalib spots a blue egg and goes for it. He does not seem to see the pink one - yet.

Kalib grabs a plastic shark egg. It has candy inside it.

Kalib snatches an egg off a septic vent. Don't worry, with Jacob's help, we replaced that septic system a decade ago - much farther back in the yard.

Kalib drops another egg into his Easter basket

Muzzy eats another egg.

There is still some ice atop this water. Kalib plunges his hand in.

Kalib battles Muzzy for the last egg. With Dad's help, Kalib will win. Muzzy has already eaten at least half-a-dozen. He doesn't need anymore.

Easter Sunday, Part A: Our early morning reunion with Kalib and his parents

A few minutes before 1:00 AM, it suddenly occurred to me that I had better get a camera ready. I found a memory card, inserted it into the camera and then walked into the kitchen, where Margie continued to suffer through tax preparation.

"What are you up to?" she accused, suspiciously, when she became aware that I was standing directly behind her, fiddling with my camera. It was as if she suspected that I was about to take a surreptitious picture of her preparing taxes - this is something that I would never, ever, ever, do - no, not ever!

"It should be just about time, I answered. "I want to be ready."

 Just then, I heard a car pull into the driveway. Suddenly, Margie understood. "Is it them?" she asked.

It was. After more than a full week without him, we were about to see our little grandson again. And his parents. As you can see, Kalib was so thrilled to see me, he didn't know what to do.

Then it was grandma's turn.

Oh, the joyous reunion with Royce!

And then, back in the bedroom where Kalib and his parents sleep, Muzzy joined in.

Here they are, the travelers, home from the southwest. After everybody got some sleep, there would be an Easter egg hunt. Please come back, and witness the action. It will be up, soon.

I take my first bike ride since I fell off the chair; The Fit Lady falls into Catch 22 with the Department of Agriculture and the IRS; various and insundry Wasilla scenes

The last time that I rode my bike was in early June of last year, just before I went to Barrow, stood on the chair, fell off the chair, shattered my shoulder, took a $37,000 ambulance ride in a Lear jet back to Anchorage and got a new shoulder.

But today I rode it. Now I want to ride and ride and ride.

It hurt. It burned my lungs and strained my arms. I am so out of shape.

It felt good.

I just want to ride and ride.

But I have places to go, soon. I won't be able to bring my bike.

As you can see, I kept my brace on. I have been told to keep it on all the time. 

As I neared Serendipity, I saw The Fit Lady, walking on the bike trail ahead of me. I slowed down and pedaled beside her for awhile. She always has a good story. I wondered what it would be today.

Here it is:

Not long ago, she got a bill from the Department of Agriculture demanding that she pay the interest on an agricultural loan that they had never given to her. The Fit Lady is not into agriculture. She is in to skiing and biking and sailing, but not agriculture.

So she wrote a letter and told them so. In time, they wrote back and said okay, maybe you don't have a loan with us. Sometime after that, they sent a statement to the IRS claiming that they had advanced $38,000 in taxable income to her.

Now, the IRS expects her to pay taxes on money she never received for an agriculture business that she does not own.

"I'm not going to pay it," she said. "If I had a cow on my porch, I think I would know. Well, yesterday, I did have a cow moose on my porch. I opened the door and accidently banged her nose. She was there for the bird feeder. She got it, too. There's no food for the birds, now."

Just when so many of them are arriving after their long winter's absence!

After I got home, I parked my bike by my wrecked airplane. After I crashed it, many people told me that I was lucky to have walked away unhurt. It didn't feel lucky then and it doesn't feel lucky now.

I was also told, many times, "any landing that you walk away from is a good landing."

I made many good landings in the Running Dog. This last one wasn't one of them.

Later, I saw this guy, riding his bike. 

I took Margie to Carr's, so that we could buy three-dozen eggs to boil and color. Kalib is coming home tonight. He will need eggs to find tomorrow.

Before I got out of the car, Michael came by. I had never met him before, but he was a nice kid, pleased to learn that he would be on the blog.

Michael has been working at Carr's since January or February, taking groceries to cars for customers, and retrieving shopping carts. "It's a good job," he said. "I meet lots of nice people. I enjoy helping people."

There you go: Michael of Carr's in Wasilla, Alaska.

Inside Carr's, I was surprised to see Slackwater Jack. Slackwater is a commercial fisherman from Cordova and a member of the Native Village of Eyak Tribal Council. I first met him many years ago, when I was doing portraits and interviews of Alaska Native veterans of foreign wars. 

Jack is Tlingit, and fought in Vietnam.

Now he shops at Carr's in Wasilla, because his wife moved here, so he must hang out here a bit, too.

A lot of people will be eating strawberry shortcake tomorrow - Easter Sunday. Does this look like a time of hardship?

And yet it is, for many. Maybe us, in a month or two. You never know, when you work freelance and have no business sense. When I have money, I spend it. When I don't, I don't and when it gets really bad, I sell things, and hock things and sometimes I never get them back - like those guns I was telling you about.

This hasn't happened for awhile, though. Years. Not even this last year, when my income dropped by more than half, due to my injury. I hope it never happens again, but one never knows.

I just want to write my books, now, and do this blog. Neither activity pays any money.

And then these cats who hang out with me always need food, and litter to deposit it in after they process it.

One place I spent money recklessly today was at Little Miller's, where I pulled up to the drive-in window and bought an Americano for me and another for Margie. I could see through to the other drive-in window, where this guy studied the menu before ordering.

I don't know why he stood there and did not sit in a car like the rest of us, but he did.

Margie spent the day working on taxes. I had to spend time rounding up receipts for her. As usual, wherever I was, Jim was there, too. He is here with me, in this office, right now, asleep, curled up on his chair.

My buddy, Jim.

I treasure his presence.