Reunion at IHOP as ravens fly outside - sled dog, utlralight and Charlie; Melanie tricks me out of my large Pepsi

It is kind of a Sunday tradition around here for me to take whomever of my children might be about to IHOP for breakfast. Today, that meant Caleb. Our waitress was Kimberly. She was friendly and chipper, and brought coffee and multiple-flavored creamers immediately, then took our order.

Kimberly turned then away from our table, saw some people standing right behind her and shrieked. They shrieked too. Then they all started hugging. Some of her family members had come up from Kodiak, and had surprised her. Above, she hugs her brother.

I am not certain if this is Kimberly's sister, sister-in-law, good friend, or what, because I had to let her work, and let them eat, so I did not ask many questions. I did give Kimberly the address to this blog, though, and she can add any information that see might like in "comments."

I then looked out the IHOP window and saw ravens flying, including this one, mysteriously trailed by flying saucers. Some might challenge me on this, note the uncanny resemblance the saucers bear to the lights in IHOP and argue that there must be a connection.

That's the trouble with this society - even when you have photographic proof, the skeptics stand ready to shoot you down.

Down towards Chugiak, I saw this flying object in the sky. Now, what do you skeptics have to say about this?

And here is a sled dog, a member of the team owned by Diane Benson, Tlingit poet, playwright, actress and former candidate for Alaska's lone seat in Congress, mother of the Iraq war veteran, Latseen Benson, who is making a life for himself despite the fact that he lost his legs in that country. If you are curious, you can find the story on my other blog, the one about cats, beginning right here.

This is Charlie, in the parking lot at Taco Bell. None of us had expected to meet here. In fact, I had been out and about and had planned to go back to my house for a few minutes - just long enough to fix myself a sandwich and then go pick Margie up from work. But when I stepped into the house, my nose was struck by an aroma most foul.

Muzzy had pooped on the floor. Muzzy is not the kind of dog who poops on floors, but when I saw the various piles he had left in an array spread before the back door, it was obvious that his tummy had gotten upset. I was wondering what to do about this when Caleb drove into the driveway, coming from wherever he had been, and then walked into the house.

I decided to let him deal with it, but I had no desire to make a sandwich as he was doing so, so I headed off for Taco Bell. Along the way, Melanie and Charlie pulled up beside me in Melanie's little car, then followed me to the parking lot.

"What are you doing here, Dad?" Melanie chided in her reprimanding tone. 

"I'm going to get lunch," I said, "and then go pick your mother up from work."

"Why are you just getting lunch now? It's too late! And I can't believe your going to Taco Bell!"

"I can't believe you grew up in my house and can't believe I am going to Taco Bell," I countered. "Get in, and you two can come with me and then we will go pick up your Mom and get coffee."

Soon, we were at the drive-through and when it came time to order drinks, Charlie said he didn't want one and Melanie asked for a small Pepsi. "And I'll have..." I began.

"A small Pepsi!" Melanie interrupted me, "order a small Pepsi!"

"...a large Pepsi."

"Dad! A large Pepsi? Why? I can't believe it!"

We got our food and drove to a place in the parking lot where no cars were and stopped there to eat it.

"Dad," Melanie said as I reached for the large Pepsi. "Charlie and I need to share one drink, so you take the small Pepsi and we will share the large."

Did she think I would fall for this?

"No," I said. "I want the large Pepsi." I reached for it, but suddenly felt bad for Charlie. He had insisted that I let him pay for it all and it would not be right for him to now only have half of a small Pepsi - even if it was his own fault for not ordering a drink to begin with.

So I drank the small Pepsi - which was not enough to wash down a quesadilla and a burrito - as they shared my large Pepsi. Then we went straight to Wal-Mart, picked Margie up and headed to the nearest coffee shop. Charlie tried to pay again, but I wouldn't let him. You could say that I put my foot down, and when I did, the car moved forward and we drove away, because the gas pedal was beneath my foot.

And this event happened, right here, in Wasilla, Alaska.

Some readers might get confused, and think that it happened in Amarillo, Texas, but it didn't. It happened here. In Wasilla.

We don't go to Texas to get coffee. Everything is too small down there. We feel enclosed, trapped; we scream for elbow room, whenever we are down in Texas.

That's the trouble with living in Alaska. Afterwards, no other place can stack up. Outside, it all falls short.

A hard working, lazy, day - take your pick

You could say that I put in a very lazy day, today, or you could say that I put in a reasonably hard working day. Depending on you define the day. If you define it from the time I got up, about 12:25 PM until now, 11:41 PM, then it was a lazy day. If you define the day as having begun at 12:01 AM, then it was a reasonably hard working day, as I was going hard on a project and kept at it until about 7:25 AM this morning, at which time I went to bed.

Once up, I could not bear to cook oatmeal. I just wanted to sit somewhere where people would wait on me, bring me hot eggs and ham and toast and coffee. Margie had the car at work. So I had Caleb drive me to Family Restaurant, and, indeed, I was waited on and it was very good.

The people in front of me were not eating breakfast, but lunch.

Afterwards, I walked home. Two and a half miles, maybe three; I must measure it. I was still feeling lazy, but when I saw this kid walking up between the signs with the mountains behind him, I found the energy to shoot.

"Hello," I said, just before we passed each other.

"Hello," he said, "how you doing?"

"Good," I answered. "How you doing?"

"Good," he said.

We were both good.

Good.

As I chat with the roadscraper, a Jehovah's Witness missionary appears and offers me truth

I often see the roadscraper, clearing snow and ice as he drives our local streets. On yesterday's walk, I came upon him as he was enjoying a break. He opened up his door and started a friendly conversation.

His name is Ron Miller, and he is a friendly and conversational person, and I will not try to recount all that he told me. He has 102 miles of Matsu-Borough roads to scrape and over the past two-and-a-half days had put in 27 hours and still had most of this day left to go. He told me about what it takes to keep the scraper in good working order, and how, if a scraper gets careless, he can tear up a good stretch of pavement just like that.

Ron is a Vietnam veteran and served in both the Air Force and Army, in Intel. To this day, he says, few Americans know what really happened over there and have no idea of the tonnage of bombs that we dropped. He spoke of incredible numbers of bomb tonnage, packed into jets every day, dropped every day.

After we had chatted for awhile, a pickup with two men in it pulled up and stopped. This fellow introduced himself as Ryan and said he had something that I might be interested in: truth. He gave me this pamphlet that promised to introduce me to the truth. I asked him what religion he was and he said Jehovah's Witness. 

I put it in my pocket and planned to read it after I got home, so that I might share a bit of truth with anyone who reads this. But now I can't find it. It is lost. 

Truth and eternity remain a mystery to me.

I left Ron and Ryan behind and continued on my walk. Soon, I heard the sound of heavy steel scraping pavement. I turned around, it was Ron, making his way down his 102 mile route.

Breakfast at Family Restaurant

Breakfast at Family Restaurant - Wasilla, Alaska, November 13, 2008

I shot a series of pictures today that I intended to put in here tonight, along with some highly insightful comment, for what other kind of comment could I write?

But it is late and I am too exhausted to do it, so I am only going to put one picture in for now, the very first frame that I shot this day.

I took it at Family Restaurant, where Margie and I had gone to for breakfast. Thursday is the weekday that we try to have breakfast out.

We sat at a booth, but the couple above were at the counter, and a beam of sunlight had come through the window to fall upon them.

Whenever we go to Family, the gentleman at left is always there. 

Part of my idea when I started this blog was to not only do grab shots of various sights and people that my eyes fall upon while wandering around Wasilla, but to do actual stories. So far, I just cannot find the time, but when I do, I want to do a story on Family, on the energetic Russian immigrant woman who founded the place, people who work for her and her customers.

How do I ever find that kind of time? Yet, if I am to reach my goals with this blog, I must.

Stay tuned, and see if I do.

As an an afterthought, here is one more from breakfast at Family:

Jolene - Breakfast at Family: Wasilla, Alaska, November 13, 2008

Here is an invite for anyone who might happen to be in Anchorage December 2:

Shooting with just my left hand - the injured series

Press release, ASMP

November 13, 2008 Anchorage.  The award winning ASMP First Tuesday Slide/Lecture Series will feature the work of Wasilla photographer Bill Hess at 7 PM, Tuesday, December 2, 2008 in the auditorium of the Anchorage Museum at Rasmuson Center.  Mr. Hess is an accomplished professional photographer who suffered a fall while on assignment in Barrow on June 12th.  While recuperating from a broken shoulder, Bill has been forced to photograph with only the use of his lone left hand.  Despite this set back, Mr. Hess has produced at least one photograph each day since the accident.  The stories of his struggles and the resulting imagery are the basis of Mr. Hess’s presentation.  Admission is free.

Bill Hess launched his career in 1976 when he took the publication of the Fort Apache Scout, the newspaper of Arizona’s White Mountain Apache Tribe.  As a one-man operation, Bill Hess did the photography, reporting, writing, layout, production, ad sales and even hand delivered the copies to subscribers.  

In 1980, Bill Hess wrote and photographed a three part article on the White Mountain Apache for the National Geographic Magazine.  It was, however, his dream to live in Alaska and in 1981 he and his wife sold most of what they owned, packed up their four children and hit the highway north.  Over the past 27 years Bill Hess has invested his time and talents in documenting Alaska’s Native communities.  His book, Gift of the Whale: The Inupiat Bowhead Hunt - A Sacred Tradition, was published by Sasquatch and his book, Celebration: Tlingit, Haida and Tsimshian Dancing on the Land, combining Hess’s photography with the writings of Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian authors, was recently published by University of Washington Press.  Bill Hess is a recipient of a W. Eugene Smith Grant in Humanistic Photography. (First Runner-up, 1999)

Sarah Palin keeps popping up on the TV, dogs, cat, fourwheeler, boy, house, library at sunset

Everytime I came within sight of a TV today, Governor Palin was on it. One thing that I find a little odd is that since I came to Alaska nearly three decades okay, I have met every governor, except one; I have photographed every governor for publication, except one; I have interviewed the majority of the governors.

Of course you figured it out. The one governor that I have not met, photographed or interviewed is Sarah Palin, the one who lives in the same town as me, the one whose father was a substitute teacher to my own children.

When I got the idea for this blog, I did not even think about Governor Sarah Palin, only about documenting life in Wasilla, getting to know my community a little better while still getting away from it from time to time, and of experimenting to see if I could create a new kind of platform for my work, which has always been print based.

So, I thought that one day, when the time was right and I had the time, I would start the blog. Then Governor Palin became VP candidate Palin, and even though the time was still not right and I had very little time to spare, I decided I had to launch.

I suppose it is inevitable that I will photograph her one day. Perhaps I will interview her, too. True, I voted for Barack Obama and there was much about Governor Palin's campaign that greatly disturbed me, but the Anchorage Daily News endorsed Obama-Biden and she still gave them an interview, just the other day, when she let them into her house as she prepared dinner.

Here are some other Wasilla scenes that I saw today, when I was out and about without a TV in front of me:

Man riding a four-wheeler.

Charlie, the frisky pup who I first met yesterday.

Charlie again.

Varmit, the tiny cat who hangs with Dan, a camera-shy but friendly disabled veteran who I often talk to when I go walking.

Another dog.

An under-construction house in upper Serendipity. This just makes me sad. For over 20 years, these woods were mine, and I was not in the field, I was in them daily, walking, skiing, mountain biking. Then this damn Serendipity development comes along and now I must stay out of the woods, walk on roads, with houses all about. There is no place to pee. Back then, a person could pee anyplace he felt like.

A boy in the post office. His mother has dropped something on the floor. They looked good together and I wanted to photograph them together, but by the time she picked whatever it was she dropped up, I was being waited on, and had to give my full attention to the clerk.

The Wasilla Library, as I found it when I came out of the post office at 4:30. I heard this library mentioned by Governor Palin a number of times on the TV over the past couple of days. She cited it as an example of the absurdity of all the untruths circulated about her during the campaign. One of the rumors that she cited was the falsehood that she had banned books - even Harry Potter - from this library.

As I recall, she never did ban a book, but she was reported to have asked the librarian if she would be willing to ban books. The librarian said, 'no.' Sarah Palin fired her. This resulted in a community uproar and Sarah Palin hired the librarian back. No books were ever banned.