On the day of his dad's first Chemo, Branson brandishes a hockey stick; Metro Cafe is one year old; moose, dog - truck for sale on trail

When I turned off Lucille Street into the drive-through lane of Metro Cafe, I saw a tiny, heavily- bundled and padded figure run across the parking lot on the blade protectors of his hockey skates. It was five-year old Branson, who then posed for Through the Metro Window Study, #2081. True, he was outside the window, but I could still see through it to the customers behind.

Branson's father Scott had just undergone his first chemo treatment as part of his fight against the colon cancer that he is determined to beat. Today, Branson will attend his first day of kindergarten. While he is trying to prepare himself early, his first official hockey practice will not happen until late September.

I had not seen Carmen since before I left for Barrow, but she was here when I pulled in and so she came to join in with Branson. She let me know that today also marks the first anniversary of Metro Cafe's opening. She pondered all that has happened in that short year, from the family efforts to create a new kind of place in Wasilla to Scott coming down with cancer to Branson now entering kindergarten.

It has been quite a year for Carmen, Scott, Branson and Metro Cafe.

And on top of all this, Alaska buried Senator Ted Stevens yesterday.

As I drove home the long way, sipping my Metro order, this moose crossed the road in front of me. See how summer's colors have begun to give way to fall's?

Very soon, the colors will all be fall. And then, once again, it will be white... I hope. The weather just keeps getting stranger and stranger and that which we could once take for granted can no longer be counted on.

I had not walked down this way in a long time, but now I did. Tequila greeted me just as she always did in the past - barking, growling, acting tough, but I knew better. She didn't scare me.

This is one of those situations that my daughters would derisively describe with the phrase, "That's so Wasilla!" As you can see, this truck is parked across the trail that borders Seldon Street, with a "For Sale" sign on it. Another sign faces the road, so that those driving by can see it. 

This is a busy trail, used by many. Pedestrians use it, adults and children pedaling bicycles, mothers and fathers pushing baby strollers, people on four-wheelers.

It is a very busy trail, but what the hell. Someone wants to sell a truck.

So, if perchance you are looking for a truck and you are interested in this one, here is the price and phone number. Give a call, make the deal, take the truck. You will be doing many trail users a favor.

View larger images as slide show

The brothers two: Kalib and Jobe - what do they think of each other? I stop briefly at All Saints Episcopal to pay my respects to Senator Ted Stevens; a man walks alongside a fence

I made a quick trip to Anchorage late this afternoon and visited Kalib and Jobe. Jobe had been on his mother's lap, but Kalib pulled him from her and held him - for a few brief seconds.

This could be deceptive. Kalib is not trying to slug Jobe. Kalib is merely bounding across the couch with his usual energy. Lavina knows how rough Kalib can play and so she is ready, just in case he bounds too far.

Jobe studies his big brother. I wonder what he thinks of him? I wonder how he will think of him in the future? I had three older brothers and when I was small I looked at them with a combination of terror, adoration and, of course, love.

Well, the terror part didn't really apply too often to Ron, the youngest of three, four-and-half years older than me. He had his terror moments, but mostly he was very good to me, bought me treats, let me read his comic books, Mad Magazine and often took me out to fly the wonderful model airplanes that he spent so much time building. When I graduated from high school and followed him to Brigham Young University, where he had returned after serving a two-year Mormon mission in Germany, he let me look at his Playboy Magazines.

We hung the centerfolds on the wall in such a way that when the inspectors that BYU sent out to inspect student rooms, even in off-campus housing, the images would be hidden the moment our bedroom door opened. It was always amusing, to sit there  in our room as those serious, righteous-looking men in suits came through the door, stood there with the Playboy centerfolds hidden right behind them, observed the fish swimming in my tank, our study areas, various books - including the Bible and the Book of Mormon and proclaimed our room to be clean, appropriate and up to good BYU-LDS standards.

Damn! Ron died altogether too soon!

The older two, Mac the tall twin and Rex the short twin, kept me in a state of near constant terror, but still I held them in adulation and it was they who the bullies who came after me soon learned to fear and respect. 

So I wonder what it will be like for these two as they grow?

And what does Kalib think of Jobe right now? I know he is a little jealous, as Jobe gets attention that not so long ago went to Kalib alone, but I do believe he loves him as well.

Kalib rolls about in the midst of his dad and Muzzy.

Before I left them, I saw Jobe, Jacob and Lavina together on the couch and thought it would be nice if Kalib were there, too, so that I could get a picture of all four. Jacob and Lavina motioned to him, but he would not come over. Instead, he stood by the TV, where, in local news coverage of his life and death, Senator Ted Stevens, killed last week in a plane crash near Dillingham, appeared in an old news clip with President Jimmy Carter. 

It was okay that he did not come. It made a better picture this way.

I gave some thought to doing some serious coverage of the memorial for Senator Stevens on this, the day that he lay in repose in a closed casket in All Saints Episcopal Church in Anchorage, but decided against it. Many serious news organizations, including the Anchorage Daily News and The Alaska Dispatch and Alaska Newspapers, Incorporated, would be doing serious photo documentaries of everything that would happen, both today and tomorrow, the day of his funeral.

What could I add to it? Not much, I decided. Plus, I had no desire to go in and compete with my fellow photographers today. Still, Alaska history, American history, was being made today. Plus, I had several contacts with the man in life, had photographed him more times than I can remember and on this day I felt that I must go in and pay my respects.

So I did. I walked to the closed casket, stood solemnly in front of it for just the right amount of time, shook hands with his family members seated nearby, walked to the back, signed the guest register and then sat down for just a few minutes next to my friend, Al Grillo, the freelance photographer who for so long covered this state for the Associated Press. I shot a handful of frames and then I got up and quietly exited...

...but before I did, I noticed this trio and so photographed them, too. I have no idea who they are. I could have asked for their names, I suppose, and their feelings, but I was not being a journalist today. I was just being a citizen, there to briefly pay my respects and then go.

As I left, I saw Channel 11, preparing to broadcast. I'm not really too familiar with these folks, as I tend to watch Channel 2 News the most. Actually, I tend to get most of my news off the internet these days and locally that tends to mostly mean the Daily News and the Dispatch and a number of blogs, most of which don't really cover the news but get angry about it instead.

As I drove out of Anchorage, I saw a man, walking by a fence. This is frame 6...

...Frame 5...

...Frame 4...

...Frame 3...

...frame 2...

Frame 1.

And so walked this man on the evening that Senator Ted Stevens lay in repose.

View images as slide show

Transitions - Chilly Barrow to hot Fairbanks to cool and wet Wasilla; Kalib and Jobe return to the blog

Among the things that I did on my last day in Barrow was to interview elders Wesley and Anna Aiken for Uiñiq. They grew up the old way and still express amazement that they can now wake up everyday in a warm house and with the flick of a switch turn on a light.

On April 8, they will celebrate 63 years of marriage and they have a host of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to celebrate with them. I can't say for certain, but I hope to be in Barrow at that time so that I can photograph the celebration.

This is from the night before, and you can see Wesley sitting right up front. I took this picture at what was a Slope-wide gathering to honor the bilingual teachers and others instrumental in setting up bilingual programs over the past five decades or so. The teachers gathered in every village on the North Slope and were joined together by teleconference and then all were honored with certificates and pins. Many were honored posthumously. 

Some, such as Anna Aiken, were not able to attend, but Wesley picked up her awards and brought them home with her. 

These are some of the people who have been working hard to keep the Iñupiaq language alive and vital in the face of TV, video and internet.

Van Edwardson called me on my cell phone to tell me that he had been tearing up the floorboards at his late grandfather's house to build anew when he found this seal-oil lamp beneath it. These are the instruments that people used not so long ago to both light and heat their extremely well-insulated sod iglus.

The lamp would contain seal oil and wicks.

Van notes that the house of his grandfather, Ned Nusunginya, had been there for all of his life and undoubtedly longer than that. "I'm 51," he said.

The lamp is made from soapstone, apparently from Canada and must have got to Barrow via trading and bartering. "This was used by my ancestors," he told me.

After he found the lamp, he took it to the Iñupiat Heritage Center, where it is being given museum care.

Some time ago, I can't remember precisely how long, the artist Vernon Rexford contacted me to ask for permission to use my photographs as the basis for some balleen scrimshaw etchings. I greatly appreciated the fact that he asked and told him to go ahead and just etch my name in there, somewhere. Not long after I returned this time, he was out on his four-wheeler when he spotted me, came over and invited me to come and meet him at the Heritage Center, where he has a full-length balleen hanging in the gallery, with his recreations and interpretations of my photographs from one end to the other.

It was an amazing thing for me to see, to think that what I did had inspired him and he had found a way to work my work into his own vision and create a new kind of life for it that I had never imagined.

He later took me to his work area in the Heritage Center and showed me this smaller piece, also based on my photographs, that he was still working on.

You can see that it is sitting atop a copy of one of my old Uiñiq magazines, with another one above that. The sketch is of his grandmother, the late Bertha Leavitt, and was drawn by Larry Aiken, son of Wesley and Anna, from a photograph that I took of her on the beach in July of 2006. There was a nice breeze blowing that day and it would sometimes catch and lift the hem of Bertha's parka and when it did, I would snap the shutter.

Now he was going to work off the sketch of my photo to etch the image of his grandmother, his Aaka, into his balleen.

I ate a lot of food in Barrow, so much so that when it came time to go, my jacket was feeling tight around the tummy. It hadn't felt that way when I had arrived. 

Due to the satellite problems that were putting the internet out of commission for many hours at a time, Alaska Airlines had been advising passengers to check in at least a couple of hours early because if they were offline, they would have to write tickets by hand.

So I went in two hours early, but the satellite was behaving, Alaska Airlines was online and I received my ticket in reasonable time. Now I needed something to do, so I walked the short distance to the Teriyaki House. I just wanted something light, so I ordered a bowl of soup - a huge bowl of soup, as it turned out.

You will remember Jessie Sanchez, the young Eskimo dancer and whaler who has become a Barrow Whaler football player. He is the kid who got hurt in the first Whaler game. Now the Whalers would soon board the same jet as I would to fly to Fairbanks to play their second game at Eielson Air Force Base. Jessie was feeling much better and he had gotten a Mohawk cut.

He was also getting a bite to eat at Teriyaki, along with his friend Lawrence Kaleak, who you saw dancing at Pepe's at the victory celebration.

After we ate, we all walked back toward Alaska Airlines. That's Jessie's girlfriend, who told me her name but I forgot. She would not be going to Eielson, but only to the Alaska Airlines terminal to say goodbye. For the past week straight, the weather in Barrow had been continually cold and windy, with periods of rain, mist and fog thrown into the mix.

Now, that we were all leaving, it was starting to improve.

Soon, we were all on the jet, football players, coaches and a whole bunch of other people including tourists, businessmen and women and people just heading out to visit someone or to return home.

That's Anthony Elavgak, sitting there thinking. What is it that Samuelu, Samoan, has in his hands in the row behind him? 

Why, it's a ukulele! He makes a nice sound with it. Before continuing on to Anchorage and then Wasilla, I got off the plane in Fairbanks and I did go to Eielson and photographed the game.

It was a very different game than the opener in Barrow. Whereas the temperature in Barrow had been in the 30s and the wind in the 30 mphs, it was hot in Fairbanks and Eielson - in the 80's. The game was tough and Barrow lost, big time, never got on the scoreboard.

But remember, they are a young team, with only four seniors. They never gave up. They fought to the end. And there was one young man, Adrian Panigeo, who really grabbed my heart because of the size of his heart. He was not the biggest man on the field - far from it - but pound for pound I think perhaps he was the toughest. Certainly, there was not one tougher, not on either team. Defense, offense - making tackles, carrying the ball, getting hit hard by bigger men, still to blast his way through for extra yards when it looked like he should have been stopped - that was Adrian Panigeo.

The announcer had a difficult time pronouncing his name, but he had plenty of opportunities to practice until he got it right, because Panigeo was key to so many plays.

Sadly, he was put out of the game before the first half ended and left the field in an ambulance, having taken a hard blow to the sternum and he got overheated.

Football is a new game to the Iñupiat, but to watch Panigeo play, you would think it had been in his genes forever. I haven't had time to edit and prepare my pictures of the game. Maybe I will put some in later, or maybe I will just wait and save them exclusively for Uiñiq.

We will see.

Early Sunday afternoon, I boarded the plane in Fairbanks. I didn't really want to. The high temperature in Fairbanks was forecast to be 85 degrees. I wanted to hang around, with nothing to do but whatever I wanted to do, and experience that 85 degrees. But I also wanted to see my family and I could not afford to stay in Fairbanks just to have fun, so I boarded the plane.

As it turned out, the temperature in Fairbanks hit 91 this day, a record both for the date and for this late in August.

The plane departed an hour-and-a-half late and there were a bunch of people on board with a tour group that was continuing on to Hawaii. They had to switch planes fast, so they asked all of us who were not going to Hawaii to stay in our seats until those who were had left the plane.

So all these folks you see standing and trying to get out were headed to Hawaii. Unless there's some cheaters in there, who were only pretending to go to Hawaii so that they could off the plane ahead of the rest of us.

After we landed, the voice on the intercom welcomed us to Ted Stevens International Airport. I had always wondered how it felt to Ted Stevens, each time he was on a plane and heard this same welcome.

Now, Alaska was preparing for his funeral. He would never hear that welcome again.

Anchorage had just set its own weather record - for the most consecutive days of rain, 29, I believe. It must be 31 now.

Margie was there to pick me up. As we exited the airport, we found ourselves traveling alongside this small tourist bus. We were in wild Alaska for certain.

Sunday night, Margie and I spent our one night in the same house together and then, early the next morning, I drove her into Anchorage so that she could spend the next four days babysitting Jobe.

Here's Jobe. My pocket camera battery died immediately after I took this picture.

The other day, I was looking at queries people use to get to this blog. One read, "Where is Kalib?!" 

Here he is, as captured in my iPhone.

An iPhone image of Margie, Muzzy, and Jobe. Muzzy recently had minor surgery that brought to an end all notions of perhaps breeding him. Now, he must not be allowed to lick himself in a certain place or to bite at stitches.

In the afternoon, I headed to Metro for the usual hot drink, then took the long way home. As I did, I was so overcome by sleepiness that I stopped at this secluded place, closed my eyes and feel alseep listening to All Things Considered.

When I sort of awoke a few minutes later, I shot this image with my iPhone.

I then drove home the even longer way and shot this image by iPhone, too. The battery was still dead in my pocket camera, that's why.

This was yesterday. I awoke this morning to the sound of more rain. Another weather record broken.

View images as slide show

Signs for politicians, including one who once sold an airplane that later crashed with me at the stick

I am back in Wasilla for what I expect to be a fairly brief time. I was unable to post my last couple of days in Barrow or yesterday in Fairbanks and I do need to catch up a bit and to say something of that time and I will. But I am too tired right now. I just want to go to bed and get some sleep. Yet, I need to put something up, so that readers know I am still blogging. So here you have the something - the only picture that I have taken since I arrived back in Wasilla late this afternoon. I took it when I had to stop for about 1 second for a red light at the corner of the Parks and Palmer-Wasilla highways, where people were campaigning for their candidates in the upcoming primary. See the blue sign? The one that says, "Gatto"? That is Carl Gatto and he is the man from whom I bought my now crashed airplane, the Running Dog, back in 1986, for $15,900. At the time, Gatto told me that he didn't really want to sell it, but his wife had had enough of him being an aircraft owner and flying around risking his life and so he was selling it. I did not yet have my pilot's license, so we agreed that I would come over to his house, where he had his own private airstrip and he would fly the plane with me in it to Palmer to the mechanic who was going to annual it for me. When I arrived, the ceiling was maybe 1500 feet, not bad at all, but Carl looked at it and said it was too low and he was not going to be able to fly me over this day. He just didn't want to part with the airplane. So I drove to Palmer where my mechanic waited for me. I told him that Carl had refused to fly because of the "low ceiling." My mechanic looked at the clouds, said that was ridiculous and so we headed back to Carl's airstrip and we stole my own airplane - right off Carl's strip. After the annual, Carl called me up. He wanted to rent the airplane from me, but I wouldn't let him. I will always be grateful to him for selling me that airplane, but that doesn't mean I would ever vote for him. I've told this story before, but what the hell. I just told it again. I'll probably repeat it again sometime in the future. As there is only one image in this post, I did not make a slide show, but if you want to see the picture bigger, just click on it. It looks better bigger.

Lillyanna with Sharene's mummified cermaic cat; half mast for Senator Stevens

Note: Due to satellite troubles, the internet here in Barrow has been going in and out and seems to have been off much more than it has been on. This is my first chance to post, but the net is expected to vanish again at any minute. I have placed my photos, but, if you should come upon this and find that one or all of the pieces of the narrative is missing, it is because the net went out again. I will try to make a save right now and if it succeeds, I will continue until I am done or the net vanishes again:

This is Lillyanna with a ceramic cat that belongs to her Aunt Sharene, who used to have a real, live, cat that I photographed a few times - it even appeared in my book, Gift of the Whale.

Sharene has another niece, older than this one, who was curious about the ceramic cat.

Sharene told her that it was her real cat and that she had had it mummified.

"I just couldn't bear to give her up," Sharene explained.

The niece believed this for a couple of years and then one day Sharene told her she had just been joking.

The niece did not want to believe this, but the ceramic cat had an accident and one ear broke off. Then the niece saw that it was ceramic. She believed.

As I walked around the lagoon in a stiff wind, I saw these kids playing.

Scrimshaw artist Gilford Mongoyak Jr., the son of an elder who had been very good to me and who died a number of years ago gave me this sample of his work the other day. He had invited me to stop by the Iñupiat Heritage Center, where many artists come both to create and sell their work and so I did.

I did not expect him to give me anything, but he did. I have been photographing several artists, as I plan to include a section on artists in my next Uiñiq magazine. It is tough, because there are far, far, far more artists up here than I can even begin to include.

I wish I could include them all.

This is the first flag that I saw flying half-mast for Senator Stevens. Everywhere I go in Barrow, people are talking about his sudden, tragic and unexpected death. I have not heard one negative comment. What I keep hearing, over and over, is how much Senator Stevens  was instrumental in bringing into Rural Alaska.

That would include modern health facilities, such as the old hospital here in Barrow and the new one, still under construction, as well as this housing complex for doctors and other health care workers.

Hey! It looks like I made it all the way to the end.

I've done a lot more photography over the past few days than this blog even hints at, but this is all I have time for right now and I am saving much of it for other uses.

View images as slide show