Fred

Fred and his mate

The Canada goose who hangs out near the off ramp to the blue highway has been mentioned several times on this blog.  He finally showed up for a photo op.  One of those two geese is Fred, the other, most likely his mate for life. The photo is so shaky and out of focus it almost hurts the eyes, a function of operator error in getting an iPhone to focus,  Perhaps a better photo will happen one of these days.  In the meantime there is at least proof of a Canada goose or two by the roadside.

200,000 miles on a dog sled

Try to imagine this in today's world of space travel, fast cars, airplanes, trains, even round-the-world boats.  I spent the afternoon yesterday with a man who by our rough estimate has gone in the neighborhood of 200,000 miles driving dog teams.  That's eight times around the world at the equator.  Those miles include 20 Iditarods, seven Yukon Quests, several races in the range of 300 miles and thousands upon thousands of miles training as many as three teams a day. And then there was the one trip to the 8,500-foot level on Mount McKinley.

I met Sonny Lindner during the 1979 Iditarod.  He was quiet, focused, and didn't talk much, but had a winning smile and a good sense of humor.  It was after the race when my book came out that we became more like friends.  I remember a day we were driving around Anchorage and had stopped for gas.  A fellow came up to him hat in hand and asked Sonny if he would autograph the hat.  Understand that a guy like Sonny is Alaska's version of a sports star akin to NBA, MLB and NFL stars elsewhere.

After Sonny had signed the hat, the fellow asked him how he could get started in dog mushing and Sonny looked at me and said, "well the first thing is, you should read his book."  That answered one question.  As a writer you always wonder how the people you write about feel they were portrayed.  Enough of that.

In 1983, I was invited to Sonny's home town to participate in a fundraiser for his and another musher's racing efforts that year.  I was asked to bring something that could be auctioned off to help that process.  I found a photo I had made of Sonny during one race, had it printed at 11 by 14 size and mounted and took that along.  At the auction, one fellow paid $75 or $100 for it.  Surprised I asked him why he would pay that much for a picture of Sonny and the guy said he hadn't bought the picture for Sonny, he bought it because one of his own dogs was visible in the team.

During that party, Sonny invited me to go along on a trip to train dogs in the Alaska Range for a week.  I worried about my job for all of five seconds and off we went.  Next day we drove to Paxson where the Denali Highway meets the Richardson.  We stayed in a lodge there and ran his team a couple of times a day, Sonny in front with half the team and me following with the other half.

All the other dog teams I had ever driven were made up of the last five dogs in the lot, the ragtag ones that usually were left behind if something serious was involved.  This led to several adventures, as many off the trail as on while an inexperienced musher tried to impose his will on less than perfectly trained sled dogs.

A trained team of an Iditarod contender is a different story altogether. As we ran up into the mountains, nobody tried to jump off the trail, nobody attacked his teammate; all they did was paddle along, at a pace of about 10 or 11 miles per hour.  Only the quiet shush of the sled runners,  the breathing of the dogs and the slight crunch of the snow under their paws disturbed what otherwise was that perfect wilderness silence, and in that moment I finally realized what running dogs was all about. 

During our conversation yesterday, we looked over some photos from the race and there was a whole page of northern lights images. He looked at them, a couple in particular where the lights shined red and orange in addition to the usual green and yellow.  He said it was like that on the Yukon River during the Yukon Quest race this year and that he had strained his neck looking at the sky for so long as that perfectly trained team pulled him along on the river ice.

The more you hear, the more you learn, the easier it is to understand why someone might want to go 200,000 miles behind dog teams.

Hauling off cars and dreams and moments not lived

The cars and the dream head out on the highway.

This yard-clearing project has taken on monumental proportions as some often do.  I can see the escalation from a leaf rake to heavy yellow equipment as not too much of a stretch.  There's been an abandoned '79 Honda Civic in the back woods for the seven years I've been here and I was told it might have been there as long as 10 years before that.  The borough has a deal going where you can get junk cars hauled away for free and one phone call was all it took.

But first it had to be dragged out of the woods.  I bought a heavy tow strap last winter in anticipation of helping someone out of a ditch some time but this was the first time it came unrolled.  The key to the car has been lost, an artifact for some archaeologist to find some day and wonder what it might have unlocked.  That meant the steering wheel was locked and could not turn the car, so the tow had to be pretty much a straight line --  out of the woods.  Good luck with that.  The first pull brought it about 100 feet only to be stopped by a low stump some prior woodcutter had left in the yard.  The stumps around here are going to be another problem but this might have shown the way to a solution to that.

To turn the Civic away from the stump I pulled a trick from my old boating days.  Using the Jeep like a tugboat, I nudged up against the Honda's starboard bow and shoved it sideways, effectively changing the course the car would take.  That done I hooked up the tow again and yanked the car forward; well the Jeep went forward, the Honda was actually being pulled backward.

  

Unfortunately it didn't quite clear the stump and it hung up for a moment until I applied, what?  More power.  The car came free and so did half the stump and we headed down the driveway.  The Jeep passed the huge pile of brush and broken branches I had collected, but the Honda plowed right through and over it.  What once was a high round pile of woody detritus, became a long low one in short order, but the Honda made it to where the junk car truck could grab it.

The Honda was an easy decision.  That Volkswagen on the bed of the truck was a tougher one.  It's not easy to face a disappointing failure.  That Bug was supposed to be my son's first car.  When he was 9 or 10 he decided a Volkswagen Beetle was his favorite car.  At about the same time I came across one a friend was selling for $500 so I bought it with the idea as my son grew we could rebuild it against the day he was old enough to drive legally.  As a parent I also figured it was small enough to make it difficult if not completely prevent any sexual adventures he might want to get into and also it would never go over about 60 mph -- safe everything.

We started by taking the engine and all the upholstery out of it and from catalogs began buying a part a month to rebuild it.  We bought lots of chrome go-fasters, those things that look so cool, but don't add a bit of power to anything.  We eventually got the bottom end of the engine apart and back together with all new vitals, but then life interference and a budding teenager's indifference let the project languish long enough to where the car sat abandoned in the yard for several years.  This week came time to accept the fact it was never going to be finished and to let it go.

For sale cheap.

At this point, I feel fortunate not to have a wife and the added motivation she might try to provide.  You see, that engine, with its go-faster chrome parts is on a stand in the spare bedroom.  I couldn't bear to let that go for junk.  For one thing there's about $2,000 invested in it and for another,  maybe there's another guy out there somewhere building a VW bug with his son who would be willing to pay a little for a rebuilt engine or just for the accumulation of parts to enhance the one he has.  If not I have an interesting piece of ornamental furniture to remind me of a precious time that went unlived.

As the familiar baby blue VW went down the street on that truck a cloud of melancholy came over me.  That Bug had held such promise of hours with my son working on a project, watching him learn, teaching where I could and looking up in the many manuals we bought when I couldn't and I remember the dream I could see at the end of the process when he drove off in the coolest VW Bug ever.  Didn't happen and today the junker hauled it away on the back of a truck taking with it a shattered dream that will live on forever unfulfilled, one of those reminders every parent must carry of a quality time we could have spent with a son or daughter we love, but somehow for whatever reason, we missed.

Warning: Political rant: Obama, Romney

It is so difficult to understand how anyone with even a modicum of intelligence can support a presidential candidate like Mitt Romney. Many of the people who fill the audiences at his speeches seem to be normal Americans, middle class folks who have borne the brunt of the recent downturn in the American economy and still support a guy who helped that along by managing a company that bought failing businesses, milked all the money they could out of them then declared bankruptcy, leaving the taxpayers with the bill and putting those companies' employees out of work.

A guy jumped me on facebook one day for pointing that out, saying those companies already were failing.  I suggested, under that rule, that if someone came upon a person bleeding in the street and shot him to put him out of his misery would he then not be guilty of homicide.  Silence greeted that comment.

 

Day after day some Republican says something highly critical of President Obama.  Lately one called the president the most divisive person in America, this from a member of a party that refuses compromise and has at least tried and often succeeded in saying "NO" to every element of the president’s legislative program.  The fellow's comment raises some interesting psychological questions.  He probably believes what he said is true, that the president is divisive. But, why does he see it that way?  He sees it that way because his party's stand is to oppose everything the president does.  When the president refuses to oppose his own programs, this is certainly divisive to someone who is doing the opposing and that person can only see his own point of view. So, the fellow goes on television to advertise his myopia and by using it to criticize, somehow elevates himself, his party and his candidate above that "divisive president."

Among other things, this divisiveness includes a Congress refusing to confirm judges, creating a serious number of vacancies on the federal benches and creating a huge backlog in the courts.

Others point out his association with a controversial preacher whose church Obama attended more than 10 years ago.  And in Arizona, that bastion of intellectual politics, the secretary of state has held up allowing the president's name on the election ballot because he has received 1,200 emails questioning whether the president was born in the United States.  Give me an hour and I can send him 1,200 emails, but the website Left Action has gone one better, urging people to send emails demanding proof that Mitt Romney is not a unicorn.  Is Mitt Romney a Unicorn? So far the site's members have sent more than the "required" 1,200 emails to  the tune of more than 15,000 at last count and the site has officially declared Romney a unicorn and therefore ineligible to be president, although nothing in the Constitution states specifically the president has to be human. MittRomneyIsAUnicorn.com

Meanwhile, our very own Governor Interrupted stepped off her bus long enough to criticize Obama's agreement made with Afghanistan to end the war there as a cheap photo opportunity.  Of course, to her it would be a photo op, because she would never have understood what happened, but it sounded good so by all means smile for the cameras and say "you betcha"  a couple of times. 

The Republicans also criticize Obama  for politicizing the death of Osama bin Laden, something Bush couldn't get done in seven years despite standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier in a flight suit under a sign declaring Mission Accomplished.  Of course if somehow they could take credit for that it would  be a major campaign issue.

Still Romney who claims understanding because he is "unemployed" (insert snarky chuckle here), who bullied a gay kid in high school, who put thousands of people out of work, who claims credit for resurrecting the auto industry, a move he opposed, claims foul when the Democrats bring up his vile record with Bain Capital and that he supported the auto industry when he bought two Cadillacs.

Maybe, above all, Romney is the poster boy for the Occupy Movement, the target of the Buffett rule, the uberrich patrone who makes and possess millions of dollars but pays a lower tax rate than I do, a tax, incidentally taken from Social Security benefits, one of those supposed entitlements his gang threatens to get rid of, despite the fact that I paid into it for more than 50 years.

None of this even begins to address the war on women.  Is it true Republicans and their crazy religious zealot supporters only care about human beings who are still in the womb?  It doesn't address the GOP efforts to disenfranchise as many Democratic voters as they can in the states that have allowed it, either.

Having been a member of the press for many years, I  find it particularly offensive how the national media jump on the band wagon.  This morning just for fun, I watched CNN for a while.  Now, CNN isn't Fox News, but that doesn't mean there is no bias. My patience for CNN's beautiful, overdramatic actresses playing news anchors is very thin.  I started watching the streamer underneath while trying to tune them out.  I noticed a trend, so I counted as the headlines scrolled by.  There were seven headlines concerning Republicans, Obama or the campaign.  Every one of them had something of a negative slant against the president.  The most even-handed of them said something like "Obama campaign presses Romney on Bain; GOP increases criticism."

It goes on and on and most days I  feel like I have followed Alice down a modern version of the rabbit hole or through that looking glass. An entertaining game of flamingo croquet looks pretty darned good right now.  Maybe when I get the yard cleaned up I can find a large enough flat space to place some wickets; they would be good employment for the pesky squirrels around here,  We might have to play with sandhill cranes in Alaska though.  Not many flamingos around. But, there aren't many people you would call progressive either.

Green day 2012

When life gives you bigger piles of brush, build yourself a bigger trailer.

A bigger pile of brush.

It came and went without comment Saturday, (May 12). I noticed it while driving to Anchorage but neglected to mention it given everything else that was going on.  The green hue showed in the canopy pretty much on schedule despite the warmer than usual April we had.  Then we had a couple of cold, rainy weeks so that may have slowed it down some. then the sun came out, and the green burst out of the buds.  Already the birch leaves are the size of a squirrel's ear which according to our favorite garden columnist means it is safe to plant outdoors.  I've had a few pea plants out there but I am going to give the rest of the plants  another day or two of hardening before putting them in the ground, though, just to be safe.

Meanwhile this is the most free time I have ever had since I moved here and I have been cleaning years and years of leaves and brush out of the woods, moving in segments away from the house and making the place look like somebody lives here who cares about it at least a little. Both the owner and I like the wild look, and I am not going to take out any of the wild rose bushes.

As noted in the pictures, the piles keep getting bigger and bigger which meant some adjustments to the four-wheeler trailer.  That was the project today.  Now I can haul bigger and bigger piles of brush and leaves.  Such small pleasures.

On the road yesterday after another go round at refinishing a room in my daughter’s new house I am pretty sure I saw the old Canada goose I called Fred when I was commuting.  At any rate two geese were standing just a few yards off the road right where I used to see him and once saw him with a mate and some little ones.  If that was indeed Fred, she would have been the same female too, most likely, as they mate for life. They could have been protecting a nest in the weeds.  Some day when I have the time and inclination I might go try to photograph them, I hope, before the brush gets any higher and thicker and I can't see them any more.  Nice to find some constants in the world.  No swans showed up again on the pond this year.

So now with the birch leaves the size of a squirrel's ear, this gardening is about to become serious again.

One good tern deserves another

On a different road to Anchorage today, lots of wildlife showed themselves.  Out in the lowlands at the mouths of the Knik and Matanuska rivers two moose browsed through the low brush.  Both looked blond compared with the dark hair they usually sport.  Maybe it was the light, but the color at first looked more like a grizzly they might call silvertip rather than a moose no one has ever called silvertip.   A little farther along a third moose lay by the side of the road, the victim of traffic, at 65 mph looking more like it was scavenged than butchered, which makes for waste in a couple of ways.

Landing on the wires along the roadside an arctic tern hovered and then  perched for a while, first one of the year, the veteran of a yearly 20,000- mile round trip commute. 

They've always been a special bird.  There was a night soaked with beer on the bow of a boat in harbor when a group of us began scoring their dives like they were Olympians.

There was the female standing on the top of a piling as suitors approached her and hovered before her with fish in their beaks in hopes of winning her favor as she haughtily lifted her own beak like a society matron might sniff at some lesser human being who had the audacity to approach her, and turn her head to the side, rejecting one offer after another.

They have another side too.  For years working with oil spill response, I had to wear a hard hat during the drills and training sessions I observed.  The only time I ever really needed one was when I ventured too close to a tern's nest.  Talk about being dive bombed, they hit the hat, hard and I had to beat it out of there, watching very carefully where I stepped as I made my escape because they lay their well-camouflaged eggs exposed among rocks.

Still, it is always a treat to see the first one of spring every year.

For anyone who might like terns (and puns) The Book of Terns is highly entertaining.  Puns from the book were always fun on the tour boat when we saw the birds. At times in late summer they would gather before their migration.  When they took off as a flock, they would make sharp turns as a group like those tiny fish in so many films.  I loved the groans from the tourists when we saw that and I could say over the loudspeaker, "looks like one good tern deserves another," or talk about the big ternout we had that day.

How does your garden grow?

Is that a flower bud on the oriental lily?

Green is popping on the lilac. Plants growing strongly indoors.  Green also visible on the primroses all through the woods around here. I know they are common wild roses, but having just finished the Hunger Games series of books, they will be primroses to me from now on. Am allowed some literary license after all.

Green Day hasn't happened yet, the day when birch and alder sprout giving the whole forest canopy a green hue, but it is close.

Meanwhile 72 pea plants have started sprouting in a container and others in a couple in pots have outgrown any apparatus meant to let them climb.  They may go outside and take their chances.  The upside down tomato plants are upside down now.  The instructions said they would produce a hundred tomatoes.  Probably not a good idea to bet the ranch on that one.

View progress in the gallery to the right.  As the song lyric says "meanwhile life goes on all around me."

There's nothing funny about it, or is there?

In modern America there is hardly a subject that doesn't present a ready target for comedians.  George Carlin's seven words and Lenny Bruce's politics seem pretty tame these days. But there is one subject that's off limits.  Has anyone ever heard a joke about cancer?  It just isn’t funny. That's a subject even the most outrageous standups won't touch. Even humor only obliquely associated with cancer doesn't appear to wash.  But, today, a bit of a chuckle came up.

Some time back I wrote about a friend of mine who is dealing with it and how I am searching for ways to support her without being condescending and stupid.  She is the one I am going to take to a Lady Gaga concert when the Mother Monster returns to the U.S. on her tour.

A couple of weeks ago she wrote on her Caring Bridge journal about all the things she took with her to her first chemo session. It was quite a list and included her iPod, computers, writing materials, books, crocheting materials, even a thought of drawing, among so many others.

As I read my friend's list. it came to mind that half the stuff she carried could be done with an iPad and, oh boy, I have one. I recently bought an iPad3 and my old one was sitting in a drawer after unsuccessful attempts to sell it.

I approached her cautiously, telling her about reading that list and how I thought an iPad would help with the load she carried to chemo and then asked her if I could send her my original one.  I was so relieved when she accepted and I happily packed it up and mailed it to her.

Today on her Facebook page, she thanked me and the way she wrote it drew a comment from a friend of hers, which in turn brought a response, not about cancer but within the context, and I hope a bit of a chuckle among all of us.  At least everyone involved "liked" it.

Here it is the way it appeared on Facebook with names and "likes" left out:

MY FRIEND WROTE: My friend Tim has gifted me with his ex-iPad! I've been playing and having fun. What a great new toy. Thanks Tim Jones!

 · 

• 
  
• • 

    HER FRIEND COMMENTED: Ex, like he broke up with it?
    
    

    Yesterday at 4:35pm via mobile · 
  • 

    Tim Jones It's an old story, a younger, prettier one came  along
    
    

    Yesterday at 4:47pm · 

There's still nothing funny about cancer, but maybe a humorous interchange that lightens the atmosphere for a moment is all right.

When life deals you lemons ...

...  be like Gallagher and get a sledge hammer

Irritation

Satisfaction

If this is May, it must be Alaska

Snow in the weather forecast keeps getting pushed back a day or two, and predicted in lesser amounts and at higher elevations.  If the trend continues for another two weeks or so it might never show up.  There have been May snowfalls, one with flakes so big they looked like pillows, but the longer it goes, the less chance for it to happen.  Difficult to believe it could be threatening out there someplace given it is above 50 degrees here at local noon with sun shining out of a clear sky onto the garden and the growing plants in the windows.

On the old commuter trail yesterday, two Canada geese walked the road side in the same place they have been for the past five or six springs.  The pond for swans was empty for the third year after that fellow shot them on another lake. Unpleasant. For humor, a car passed me weaving a little and when it pulled ahead a bumper sticker became visible with the words "Hang up: and one of the those circles with a line through it over the image of a cell phone.  The silhouette of the person in the driver's seat showed he obviously had a cell phone to his ear.  Do as I say, I guess, not as I do.

Endured the guilt of going to a job interview on May Day after intending to go Occupy that day in the Town Square Park.  I hauled along different clothes so I could change out of my suit before I stepped out to get my fair share of abuse but in driving by I saw only a dozen or so people and small cadres of police standing around.  It just didn't seem worth the effort plus it was cold and windy all of which seemed like enough of an excuse and I trucked on home.

In an email received another prop about writing and that almost made up for the agonizing issues earlier plus it sent me back to work today and gave up two good hours of progress.  I only need a few more to finish this and then descend once more into the depths of the major project, one I feel can be sustained much easier than this one.

Meanwhile the yard looks a little better every day as a bit more progress is made.