Random Stone

Looking Back to Then

2011-08-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

Growing up in Libby,Montana was great. I wrote this poem a few years ago as a tribute to friends, family, both living and those lost. Click on the photo to enlarge.

Randy J. Cole

Fox and the Bear

2011-07-02T22:01:00.001-07:00

06/30/11 prooved to be a good day at work. Patroling my area on the Prudhoe Bay Oil Field, I had the chance to observe these two charecters. Mama Fox was very concerned that the big guy was after her kits, but as it turned out he decided on the salad. He just chewed some grass up and then was chased off the foxes den hill.

Soon

2011-05-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

I will be returning soon to Random Stone. I took an extended break but will have stories of interst coming your way.

Randy J Cole

The Ring of Humanity

2010-12-21T11:10:00.000-08:00

The end of the year nears, and it is this time in December that we become more susceptible to emotions. We miss the things that we no longer have, the towns, and cities where we grew up, the smell of fresh cut evergreens, our old pets, and of course, our family and friends that are no longer with us. Sometimes the silence as well as certain sounds become more pronounced around Christmas, and for many, we are able to see, and hear things that may slip by any other time of the year. Just a few days ago I was told a story by someone very close to me, and I think it serves as a good example of what the spirit of Christmas can, and should be.
Avoiding eye contact with the Salvation Army bell ringer in front of many stores becomes the big challenge for many of us during this season. It may be because we simply do not have any cash on hand, or maybe we just gave some change to the guy at the store a few blocks away. Feeling guilty, we might even mention that, as we pass in hopes of some sort of absolution from the guy or gal holding the bell.
As she approached the store front, the sound of frozen snow and ice crunched under her feet, as if to remind her, of the time of year, and all the things to come, Christmas, New Years, and the decorations that would have to come down soon, hidden from view once again. The sound of a high pitched bell getting louder as it echoes throughout the entrance to the Fred Meyer store. Expecting to see the bell ringer that had been at that location for a number of years in the past, she noticed that it was someone new. Instinctively she reaches into her bag, and pulls out a few bucks, and has it at the ready along with a non directional smile attached to her face. Placing the folded bills into the little red bucket, she looks up, and into the eyes of the bell ringer, her smile broadens as she turns and heads toward the doors, she stops, and looks back. The woman is compelled to turn around, and approach the bell ringer once again, this time looking closer, studying his eyes, and even more so his face, and the steady smile upon it. Another few bucks dropped into the bucket along with words for his ears, "you have a very kind face," but inside the woman felt much more indeed. It was not just a kind face she had gazed upon, but to her, the face of suffering, peace, warmth, and forgiveness all in one. She turns and continues to the door dealing with the thoughts that were now racing through her mind. The doors close behind her as the bell ringer wearing Carhartt bibbed overhauls, (the clothing of a carpenter,) stepped just far enough into the entrance door area to cause it to open. He took a few steps and as the woman turned around, he said "Thank you," and with the same smile he returned to his spot and continued to ring his bell.
It was not easy to shop as she went over the events that had just played out. Had he thanked her for the money she had placed in the bucket, or perhaps for seeing him for what he was? She thought about the man's face and the layers of feelings that she had seen there. She could see suffering, not just of man, but all creatures. A thin veil separated another layer, a layer of warmth, and peace followed by yet a third of forgiveness, and etched deep inside was a simple message of faith. The woman exited the store and sits in her car, and with the sound of the bell now distant, but its power stronger than ever, she begins to sob.
As we approach this Christmas, and reflect upon the past events of a very hard year, would it be so hard to believe that a message from a higher power may have come dressed as a carpenter while ringing a simple bell?
May the coming year be better for all, Merry Christmas to all living things big and small!

Some Sort of Light

2010-12-11T13:43:00.000-08:00

Photo by Randy J. Cole 2007

I have often referred to myself as an atheist, but as I get older I find that idea to be distasteful. The thought of passing on with less then a smile on my face just sounds wrong and if there is nothing to look forward to after death then why would one smile. Even as a child I could not embrace the Christian ideology and I still can’t, but having said that, I can tell you that I detest the big mouth atheist who push their ideals upon us all and attempt to use the constitution too accomplish their goals. Let me point out that there is a movement out there to remove the crosses that adorn the headstones on a majority of the graves at Arlington National Cemetery. No thank you, that is not acceptable. How about this, if you are a true atheist just sit down and shut your mouth and let others believe what they want because it isn’t about you, it is about an individual’s beliefs.
I don’t think I am Agnostic, which sounds like an after effect from a botched surgery on ones digestive tract. A person who is an Agnostic is a person who believes that the existence of God is unknown or unknowable but does not deny the existence of God.
Where does this leave me? I am not sure I fall into any category to be honest. I have seen so many things during my lifetime that makes me believe in a higher power of some kind and at this point I am resigned to not labeling it but rather I will just accept it.
The one thing I am sure of, when I die, I prefer to pass out of the darkness and into some kind of light not the other way around. I salute all of you who have strong beliefs and encourage you to stick with them and know that Randy has your back!.

Darkness 11-29-2009

2010-11-29T10:19:00.000-08:00

On this day 2009: Sgt. Mark Renninger, Officer Ronald Owens, Officer Tina Griswold, and Officer Greg Richards, of the Lakewood police department, in Washington state were ambushed in a Forza Coffee Shop as they prepared for their shift. All four died at the scene and throughout the nation's law enforcement family, past, present and future, an incredible darkness overshadowed the light for many days. Today our thoughts go out to the families of the fallen officers who will struggle with the darkness for a very long time. If you are a practitioner of prayer, helping these families would be a good reason to interrupt Gods busy day!
By: Randy J Cole..

Growing Up in a Small Towns

2010-11-27T09:21:00.000-08:00

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I copied this from an e-mail that my sister sent me. Most of it fits the small town,(Libby Montana) I grew up in.

Those who grew up in small towns will laugh
when they read this.

Those who didn't, will be in disbelief and
won't understand how true it is.

1) You can name everyone you graduated with.

2) You know what 4-H means.

3) You went to parties at a pasture, barn,
gravel pit, or in the middle of a dirt road. On Monday, you could always
tell who was at the party because of the scratches on their legs from
running through the woods when the party was busted. (See #6.)

4) You used to 'drag' Main.

5) You whispered the 'F' word and your
parents knew within the hour.

6) You scheduled parties around the
schedules of different police officers, because you knew which ones would
bust you and which ones wouldn't.

7) You could never buy cigarettes because
all the store clerks knew how old you were (and if you were old enough,
they'd tell your parents anyhow.) Besides, where would you get the money?

8) When you did find somebody old enough and
brave enough to buy cigarettes, you still had to go out into the country and
drive on back roads to smoke them.

9) You knew which section of the ditch you
would find the beer your buyer dropped off.

10) It was cool to date somebody from the
neighboring town.

11) The whole school went to the same party
after graduation.

12) You didn't give directions by street
names, but rather by references. Turn by Nelson's house, go 2 blocks to
Anderson's, and it's four houses left of the track field.

13) The golf course had only 9 holes.

14) You couldn't help but date a friend's
ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.

15) Your car stayed filthy because of the
dirt roads, and you will never own a dark vehicle for this reason.

16) The town next to you was considered
'trashy' or 'snooty,' but was actually just like your town.

17) You referred to anyone with a house
newer then 1955 as the 'rich' people.

18) The people in the 'big city' dressed
funny, and then you picked up the trend 2 years later.

19) Anyone you wanted could be found at the
local gas station or the only restaurant.

20) You saw at least one friend a week
driving a tractor through town or one of your friends driving a grain truck
to school occasionally. Now days it's a four wheeler!

21) The gym teacher suggested you haul hay
for the summer to get stronger.

22) Directions were given using THE stop
light as a reference.

23) When you decided to walk somewhere for
exercise, 5 people would pull over and ask if you wanted a ride.

24) Your teachers called you by your older
siblings' names.

25) Your teachers remembered when they
taught your parents.

26) You could charge at any local store or
write cheques without any ID.

27) There was no McDonalds

28) The closest mall was over an hour away.
(What was a mall)?

29) It was normal to see an old man riding
through town on a riding lawn mower.

30) You've pee'd in a hay field.

31) Most people went by a nickname.

32) You laughed your butt off reading this
because you know it is true, and you forward it to everyone who may have
lived in a small town.

I would not have wanted to have been raised
any other way!!!

Tough times don't last....

Tough people do

----- End forwarded message -----

----- End forwarded message -----

It's Not the TSA, it's Your Fellow Passengers

2010-11-24T12:40:00.000-08:00

All the hoopla over the TSA and their tactics is getting just a bit ridiculous. Do you really think these folks really want to touch your junk as many have put it? I for one have no problem with the procedures faced at the airports and I do make a lot of trips back and forth from Alaska to Portland. I realize that there are a number of people that do have a problem with it, including some of my friends and too them I offer a little bit of sympathy.
My frustration derives from my fellow passengers and I would like to share a good example with you from my recent flight from or non flight as it turned out from Anchorage, AK to Prudhoe Bay, AK. As a North Slope worker I have to commute from Anchorage to Prudhoe Bay on a bi-weekly basis. The normal procedure on the current contract I work, is to board an Alaskan Airlines jet at the Ted Stevens Airport on a Monday morning at about 5:40, and shortly after 6:00 am we are usually in the air making a stop in Fairbanks, AK before flying on to Prudhoe. The aircraft is normally a (COMBI) which is a 737 with the front portion dedicated to freight and room for I suppose about 80 or so passengers to the rear of the plane. On Monday, the 22nd, at about 5:00 am I had found a seat near my gate and sized up some of the other folks in the boarding area. Who doesn’t people watch while waiting for a flight? Out of the corner of my left eye, I noticed a very large lady meaning tall and large in build as well. She emphasized her stature by choosing winter clothing that from a distance that made "yeti," come to mind. We're talking the tall fur hat that would make the royal guards in London jealous. The lady was pulling an airport cart with a number of items stacked haphazardly and yes the thought of homeless street yeti did pop into my head. I also believed that she must be traveling with someone because no one could possibly think they would be allowed to haul that much stuff onto an aircraft. I sat waiting for Mr. Yeti to show up anticipating what he might be wearing.
The weather outside sucked, freezing rain had plagued much of the state but it looked as though it would not delay our departure. I somehow lost track and interest in the yeti and focused on the weather. The boarding process started and I was on my way to the tarmac. The thing about a COMBI aircraft is that you cannot board it using the normal covered means. You have to walk down a few flights of stairs and across the tarmac and board the aircraft just like they did in the 50's and 60's, by a portable stairway. This is where the flight turned on me. I made my way to the stairway and half way up the line came to a standstill. It wouldn't have been half bad had it not been for the freezing rain finding its way down the back of my neck. We all stood patiently on the ice covered stairway waiting for signs of life. After five minutes the line started to move and I approached my seat, 26D my usual isle seat on this flight. I stood in the isle looking for a spot in the overhead for my single carry on but there was no room. That conclusion came at the same time the once frozen rain, dripped of my head and off the end of my nose. It was now clear why most of us stood outside in the elements like milk cows heading to the milk barn. Seated in 26E, the middle seat next to me was none other than "the yeti lady" who had taken every available space in the overhead for her crap including her award winning hat, which actually took at least 1/4 of the space all by itself. Now understand that I am a large guy so I feel that I can say these kinds of things about others without feeling too guilty. Now seated in the window seat was another person that made Yeti and I look like a petite window models, so yeti lady was already crowed 1/4 of the way onto the area reserved for my butt. She looked up at me with those sorrowful yeti eyes and said, "Sorry the flight is full, I already asked." My comment back didn't seem to help matters at all. "Well maybe I can just sit on your lap" I said, while placing my bag into the next available overhead bin. Taking my seat, attempting to balance myself on my left cheek and looking like the logo from a Leaning Tree greeting card, I managed to get my seatbelt fastened and said, "Well this isn't too bad!" Yeti gave a half assed smile and said, "Would you mind, I forgot to turn off my phone, it's in one of my bags," pointing to the overhead. What came out of my mouth was nowhere near what I was thinking, which was, "While I'm up would you like me to find your yeti kibble as well?" I of course didn't say that but it crossed my mind. After digging through her stuff I found the little purse that contained her phone and handed it to her, then spent the next three minutes trying to put everything back. Taking my seat I once again do my balancing act and buckle up. From the back we probably looked like those Russian nesting dolls, you know, the hollow rounded dolls that fit one inside the other.
The captain explains that do to the freezing rain, the aircraft had to be de-iced twice prior to take off and we slowly started to back into place for our hosing so to speak. We sit quietly waiting for the equipment to arrive to de-ice the plane. Yeti has her phone out and starts to look at weather and says, "Huh, I am surprised we are even going to Fairbanks, the weather there is really bad!" Shortly after she uttered those words she began to struggle a bit for air. The flight attendant just happened to be walking by and noticed. Yeti managed to hiss that she was having an asthma attack and couldn't breathe but assured us she would be OK if she could just get her battery powered nebulizer from the above storage. At the same time she turned on her light and for the first time I noticed that her black sweater was covered with animal hair. Hhmmmm, and on cue, I hear the sound of a distressed cat which I had not noticed before, peering at me from a small carrying case located at her owners feet. The flight attendant spends a good five minutes moving stuff around and manages to find a little inhaler as opposed to the nebulizer all the while I am thinking, "Are you kidding me, you have asthma and you have to take your cat with you on a trip?" Yeti decides that the little inhaler will offer up enough relief for the short flight to Fairbanks. I was so relieved, I was wondering how it would all play out when the order came to turn off all electrical devices. She took a couple of deep draws off the inhaler and mentioned to the flight attendant that the weather was turning bad in Fairbanks. Now I know why a yeti has never been captured before, they have smart phone technology that keeps them informed! "This is the captain, we will be returning to the gate due to worsening ice conditions in Fairbanks!"
I wonder how long we will sit on the plane because to be honest, I am allergic to cats and I to start to feel discomfort in my chest as well as a little itchy thing going on which may have been psychosomatic but the urge to scream was not! Thoughts raced as I contemplated wrestling the inhaler from Yeti's large hands.
Fifteen minutes after arriving back at the gate the announcement was made that they had cancelled the Fairbanks portion of the flight and they asked all Fairbanks passengers to disembark the aircraft. I jumped out of my seat and ran to the front portion of the passenger area to allow the two ladies in my row to make a clean exit. I didn't want to be anywhere near the lady as she blocked the isle getting her stuff out of her private overhead storage with disregard to the other passengers. At least this time they would be stuck behind her in a nice warm cabin as opposed to freezing rain.
I stretched out in comfort in a row all to myself as I waited for the flight onto Prudhoe Bay direct, with no stop in Fairbanks or cats to get in the way. Life was good again right up to the point when the captain announced that the conditions at Prudhoe Bay had fallen below the minimum acceptable and we would be returning to the gate until further notice. Several hours later I did make it to Prudhoe in time to get one hour of work in at least. Like I said, the TSA is a piece of cake compared to some of your fellow passengers. Happy travel and have a great Thanksgiving!

Hereafter Movie Review

2010-11-12T09:40:00.000-08:00

My wife and I went and watched the Clint Eastwood directed movie, “Hereafter,” starring Matt Damon. One piece of advise, “BRING A BOOK!!” Never thought I would say that about a movie that Eastwood or Damon were attached too but after the first 20 min. which contain some pretty good special affects, (tsunami) its done! Every scene which followed seemed like a synopsis of a story line. If you must see it, then do, or just wait for it to hit the $5.00 bin at Walmart!
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Just One of Those Things

2010-10-19T05:02:00.000-07:00

The day was clear and beautiful. Visibility was endless with the hum of the Cessna's engine making my eyelids heavy. I don't know who the pilot was or what we were even looking for. Off to my left I spot a slight glimmer from the ground about a mile from our location. I point it out to the faceless pilot and we bank and descend slowly circling a small aircraft which laid upon the flat brown prairie at the edge of a small ravine. It resembled a child's toy that had been stepped on by a carless passerby. Next to the aircraft, stood two people, waiving to us. I don't know who the woman was but the tall man in the gold sport coat was without a doubt, Mr. Robert Fields. I smiled when I recognized him, the pilot of my aircraft tipped the wings back and forth, then without ceremony, I woke from the dream. How odd this was to dream of a person from such a long time ago. Mr. Fields was a prominent teacher in the Libby school system but one that I actually never had as a teacher. My memories of Mr. Fields were limited to one single morning during what was called Mini Week, while I was in High School in 1970. Mini week consisted of activities other than the boring school routine and in my case, I had signed up for my first ride in an airplane. The pilot was Mr. Fields, the same man who 30 plus years later, I would dream of as being one of two survivors of an apparent plane crash. The dream struck me funny but it did not warrant deep pondering until I went online the next day and brought up my hometown newspaper, The Western News. This is something I still do to check the status of my little hometown. I think we all have a tendency to check the obituaries to make sure we are not in them. As I began to look through the short list of the deceased, a chill ran down my spine and I will admit my eyes began to tear up a bit. Staring at me from the screen was an oversize photo of the man that had given me my first plane ride and who the night before had sent me a message. According to the obituary, he had died from the effects of Alzheimer's while in a nursing home. It would be interesting to get other peoples perspective of the circumstances surrounding this dream and the obituary entry the next day. It is difficult for me to write this off as "Just One of Those Things." For whatever the reason he decided to send me a message after his passing, I was thankful then and I am thankful now. On a side note, I hope he wasn't giving me a heads up on how my life might end. I do a lot of flying, but I suppose that if I were seated in an aircraft that was headed toward its demise, I would be perhaps a bit more relaxed because of the vision of Mr. Fields wave signaling that everything is ok. Thank you Mr. Fields, until we cross paths again.

“Close Call on the Cold Floor”

2010-09-20T01:32:00.000-07:00

Spring is always a pleasant time of the year, not necessarily my favorite,
but close. Sundays, however, were one of my favorite days to be on patrol in Colville and maybe the other cities I would later work for as well. People seem to get along better on Sundays. Usually it required no more than driving around and waving at the taxpayers as you cruised through the city streets. However, there was one Sunday where my life could have come to an abrupt end. During my nineteen years as a cop, this was the closest I came to being on the receiving end of the medical examiner’s gloved hand.
It started out pretty normal for a Sunday morning. I stopped at a restaurant to have coffee and while I sat sipping away and enjoying the sun through the window, I was interrupted by the dispatcher. I was advised that the custodian at the Stevens County Courthouse, which was an old, large two-story brick building located in the middle of Colville, had seen and heard someone inside as she unlocked and opened the door. On a Sunday? Of course my thoughts turned to the possibility that what she had seen was a ghost which would be pretty cool and wouldn’t require any paperwork. It was wishful thinking as I left my seat at the restaurant and drove to the courthouse.
The custodian met me outside one of the doors and appeared to be shaken up. A Stevens County deputy was just leaving his house and advised me that he would be there shortly to assist in doing a building check. As I asked questions of the young lady, I saw movement at the end of a hallway. Okay, so it wasn’t a ghost. I advised the deputy that I was going to have to enter the building without him and did so with my .45 Colt Commander in hand. Moving quickly down the long corridor, it became apparent just how noisy my feet were on the cold, hard floor. No matter how hard I tried to soften my steps, there was a loud echo throughout the building. It worked both ways, as I also heard the steps of the person who was trying to avoid
me, while the sound of both of our footsteps bounced around the hollow hallways.
I repeatedly went up the stairs and back down on the other side of the building for what seemed like an eternity. I decided to see what would happen if I doubled back and waited on the second floor at the top of the stairs. I took a low position and sure enough, the idiot taking two stairs at a time bounded near the top just as I brought my 45 around the corner and into his face. He dropped to his knees and I saw for a terrifying moment that he also was armed with Colt .45 automatic that was within inches of my nose. I would have been well within my rights to pull the trigger, but I didn’t and to this day I don’t know why I didn’t. If it happened right now, I would send that massive hollow point round into that young man without hesitation. He could have done the same thing, but for some reason he lowered his weapon and his head onto the cold floor.
That was without a doubt the closest I came to getting myself killed while on duty. The young man was taken into custody without further incident. As it turned out, he was trying to find the records office so he
could destroy his criminal file. The deputy arrived just in time to help me get the cuffs on the bonehead.
I spent the next few hours completing my report and then returned to the sunlight in the window of the restaurant, enjoyed another cup of coffee and the rest of my Sunday shift.

Ripples

2010-09-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

The death of a friend can take one by surprise and after our initial emotions are done flowing, most of us reflect on our own lives and contemplate our own end as if we are constructing the basis of a novel that few will read. We are all but a drop of rain in a big pond, but for some, the ripples that will emanate from that drop as it strikes the surface can go on for a long time. In some cases they will reverberate from shore to shore many times having an untold affect on the stillness of the body of water which it strikes. I suppose this is my metaphor, describing how we all have an effect on those around us.
Bruce Robertson, left Sitka, AK on a hunting trip on August 25th and just before he left he posted the following on his Facebook page:

Today is the day! heading out to the woods to chase deer. If you don't hear from me, it's only because a bear got to me. Will post photos later. Have a good day
everyone! Mom, I love you!

Those last four words are so powerful and so important. I got into the habit a few years ago of saying I love you to my kids and sisters whenever we finish talking either in person or on the phone. My first born is still uncomfortable with that because I am sure that when he was a little kid I didn't say it much and for that I am sorry son. I have an idea that a number of people that were close enough to Bruce to feel the ripples of his life will say "I love you," more often. Consider it a beautiful reminder and a gift from Bruce, I know that his mother does.
Bruce failed to return from his hunting trip. On August 30th, he was discovered at the base of a ravine by friends and search and rescue personnel. The announcement was made on his Facebook page by Gary White in a heartfelt way. Gary pointed out that Bruce was doing what he loved to do; he was hunting in some of the most beautiful country in the world. Bruce was truly a real Alaskan outdoorsman and what better way for him to depart this life and send out that last ripple. As fitting as it was Bruce, that ripple kept a number of people under water for a bit too long, mainly because it came too soon my friend, it just came too soon.
Since Bruce's last ripple spread throughout the pond, some of his very close friends and relatives struggle to reach the surface, and I worry about them. The message from Bruce is that you must take advantage of his strength and remember how tall he stands. Stand on his shoulders until you reach the surface and breathe, you will be okay.
Something strange about writing this story, one of the few people I would normally be sending this to for an opinion was Bruce. We exchanged a number of writing projects looking for approval of our written thoughts, and ideas, pardon me as I prepare for another one of Bruce's ripples.
Bruce did not choose the time of his passing but if he had, it would have been at the end of an August month while he was hunting in the mountains that surround Sitka Alaska. In a number of ways that is a comforting thought. For me, a nice fall day would be preferable. I love the color and smell of fall just like Bruce loved the smells and challenges of a good hunt in his beloved Alaska Mountains and one more thing, thanks Bruce for choosing our pond, love you buddy!

Bruce Robertson 1969-2010

Alaska Photos by Dan Rutan

2010-07-26T12:39:00.000-07:00

All photos posted with Dan Rutan's permission

Small brown bear print

Snow Owl

Chopper view of big mama and cubs

Dan told me the story on this one. The photo was taken over his shoulder as he attempted to exit the area. Unfortunately another brown bear was at the other end of the walkway and Dan had to crawl over the rail. The bear passed with-in inches of him. This photo was taken on the Russian River.

Large carabou heard

Big ass Skeeters!

The Crossing, Caribou in action!

Nice Red

Deadhorse Airport, Alaska
The place where a sloper usually starts his or her tour or ends it.

One of the great things about working on the North Slope in Alaska is the people you work around. I am posting a few photos from one of the guys that works for our project, "Point Thomson." The location is remote and requires a great deal of support from helicopters as well as ocean going vessels. The guy who took these photos is Dan Rutan, retired Air Force rescue chopper crew chief. He served two tours in Afghanistan and is now living a true Alaskan life. I usually do not use any one else's photos but my own but I do not get out enough anymore to get these kind of shots. Enjoy them.

Oh Nancy

2010-07-03T10:50:00.000-07:00

While searching for new music to put on my blog, I was fortunate enough to type in Nancy Sinatra. I am so glad that I did. I picked up a few classics but also found her web site. What an interesting human being she is and I had no idea how much time and effort she has put in for all of these years supporting our military including her involvment with the "Rolling Thunder" ride to DC. I encourage you to go to her site and take a look. This lady is amazing! I have provided a link in my link section.

One Call

2010-05-31T14:09:00.000-07:00

Back in January of 1997, I was a police officer with the City of Bothell WA. I remember hearing the news that the first black man from WWII was going to receive the Medal of Honor for his bravery. Actually seven were to receive the medal but because of the delay, only one was still living. His name is Vernon Baker. I told one of my fellow workers, at the department, Mike Stone, that I was overwhelmed with the courage this man had been recognized for. My then wife Julie and I were raising my grandson at the time, who is part Black and part Chippewa, which made these events seem very personnel. Vernon lived in a small town in Idaho. I remember saying to my work mate, Mike, "I bet that his phone number is still listed," and I was right. I received his number from information and promptly called Mr. Vernon Baker's residence. His wife, Heidy answered the phone. I explained to her who I was and that I wanted to say thank you and congratulations to her husband. Mr. Baker came to the phone and I was able to spend a good 10 minutes talking to this remarkable hero. I asked him if I was ever in the area where he lived if he would mind if I called him again and met with him so my grandson could shake his hand. He readily agreed however I admit I dropped the ball and never made the trip. I have some serious regrets about that. At any rate I feel good that I had a chance to talk to Mr. Baker on the phone. It will truly be one call I will keep close to my patriotic heart.

Update: Vernon Baker passed away on July 13th, 2010

The Sad Little Duck

2010-05-15T21:29:00.001-07:00

“The Sad Little Duck”

The attractive little fellow pictured is a King Eider duck. One of the 258 species of birds that spend the summer in the Arctic, giving birth to new generations. The unfortunate truth this year is the birds returned to their birth place a little too early. The North Slope is still covered in ice and snow and is very slow to turn into the normal spring the birds are accustomed to. This photo was taken yesterday and most likely he has already fallen victim to the hunger pains of the Raven or perhaps a red, or arctic fox. Mother Nature can be cruel and in the arctic it is demonstrated on a regular basis.

You have got to see this blog

2010-03-12T21:36:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine on the slope has pointed me in the direction of a blog titled, “HAITI IS SUCH A STRONG WORD." It is written by a young lady who goes by the name Barbie Boots. She is a P.A. here on the slope but uses her medical skills where they are needed. She has put together an amazing blog that documents her experiences in Haiti as she dealt with the injured, suffering and the dead. Amazing stories from an amazing person.

Just Trying to Help III Mens Underoos

2010-03-01T02:16:00.000-08:00

Just Trying to Help II

2010-02-20T20:37:00.000-08:00

3 OZ.

2010-02-07T03:24:00.001-08:00

Words and Image by Randy J Cole

3oz. refers to the wieght of a law enforcement officer's badge. This a memorial to officers who have lost thier lives in the line duty.
Officer Mike Stone of the Bothell Police Department Washington State took the time to pose for my memorial project.

A New Direction

2010-01-17T05:55:00.000-08:00

http://www.speakingofstrange.com/

On January the 23rd I will be making my second appearance on the radio program, "Speaking of Strange," with Josh P. Warren which is broadcast out of Asheville North Carolina on WWNC-570 AM. The show will feature my appearance live at
9 p.m. eastern time NY. I will recount a few of my dreams that have been premonitions of things to come one of which may have save my life. I have provided a link to the program so you can tune in on your computer with live stream. I am going to be moving into the realm of the unknown with a new blog dealing with matters such as Synchronicity, dreams, stories from other police officers who have also experienced the paranormal while on patrol.

Romancing The Moon

2009-12-31T22:20:00.000-08:00

Image and words by Randy J. Cole

Take your child by the hand and lead them to the sky. Introduce them to the great grandmother of imagination, the silent heavenly body above, our moon. Peaceful and grand she means little in the eyes of the average. To the artist, the scientist, the dreamers, and oh yes the lovers, she pulls at the their hearts as she does the tides of this earthly home as if to stimulate the dreams from within. On a clear night full of her reflection, introduce your young to the place where science fiction was born and reality ventured on the soul of man. Gaze upon her as human kind has done for thousands of years and be carried away, for she is beautiful.

The Frozen Cranes

2009-12-14T02:27:00.000-08:00

Heavy Hoarfrost covers the heavy lifters. Deadhorse AK

Grandfathers Light

2009-11-30T23:41:00.000-08:00

This a tribute for World War II era Vets and their wives. You may want to pause the blog music prior to viewing.

Paridee Kositchiranant

2009-11-10T08:57:00.000-08:00

Just a note to point out that I have added two new sites in my link area, “Good Stuff To Look At.” The new links are, "What’s Good In NYC." and "Paridee Arts & Design." These sites are authored by a young lady from Thailand that came to NYC with a dream and has worked very hard to make it happen. Her name is Paridee Kositchiranant and she is an accomplished artist working in several different medias as well as an accomplished fashion designer with Polo Ralph Lauren in New York. She is good people and keeps herself anchored in the real world by volunteering at Children Services. Instead of going to a swank NYC Halloween party she chose to spend time helping with a Children Services party for some of the less fortunate children in New York. Like I said she is good people. I hope you enjoy her sites as much as I do.
The piece shown is Self Portriat By Pardee Kositchiranant

Halloween Left Overs Facebook Message

2009-11-02T21:50:00.000-08:00

32 Chevy

2009-10-31T10:44:00.000-07:00

1932 Chevy fire truck. Libby Montana Fire Department

This is a 1932 Chevy firetruck that is owned by Tom Wood, Fire Chief of the Libby Montana Fire Department. I have been planning on a photo project for sometime with this truck. I finally had my chance last week while I was home visiting my kids and friends. This is the one I chose for the piece.

Life Is Like A Cup Of Coffee

2009-10-21T11:38:00.001-07:00

This is a great video sent to me by a friend. You might want to pause my blogs music while you watch. I really needed this today.

10/12/2009

2009-10-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

A few photos of the sunrise this morning on the North Slope AK. Time was about 7:50 am.

Grant's Shadow

2009-09-26T16:24:00.000-07:00

Image by Randy J. Cole

The wind has a snap to it as it stirs up swirls of snow, moving them across the frozen tarmac of the Deadhorse Alaska airport, like lost souls seeking directions to warmer weather. From the warmth of the Northern Air Cargo terminal looking through the weathered south side glass, one cannot help but notice the tall surefooted man in the yellow vest walking across the tarmac. He does so with much more confidence then most. He seems natural on the slippery surface. The seeds to this sure footedness were perhaps planted in 1936 at the Winter Olympics. It was there, in Germany, that this man’s grandfather, Harrison Stacy coached the Belgium hockey team.
Grant Jennings, was born in 1965, in Hudson Bay, Saskatchewan and raised with his older brother and younger sister in Melfort, Saskatchewan, Canada. Grant is a quiet individual and somewhat imposing, and that is before one finds out that he is a former defenseman with the National Hockey League.
Working on the North Slope in Alaska can be interesting depending upon ones job but what makes any job better is getting to meet the interesting people that you share the harsh environment with. Over the past year I have gotten to know Grant while spending time at the Deadhorse, Airport while performing my duties. Grant, is an aircraft mechanic and one of two that works on the private 737 aircraft owned and operated by two major oil companies on the slope. You have to be a tough individual to inspect and repair any kind of mechanical item when it is minus 30 degrees, let alone a multi million dollar aircraft. Grant’s interest in aircraft evolved from his father, who was a bush pilot in Canada and helped influence Grant to always have a skill to fall back on. Aircraft mechanics seemed to be a natural decision cultivated by the time he spent helping his dad maintain his aircraft while growing up. In later years after he hung up his pro skates, Grant would graduate from the Pittsburgh Institute of Aeronautics, earning the right and displaying the abilities to work on some of the most sophisticated aircraft produced.
Grants professional hockey career started in 1985 and ended in 1998. The time span in between was filled with many highs and lows like any other career. During the pro years Grant played with the following teams.

Washington Capitals
Hartford Whalers
Pittsburgh Penguins
Toronto Maple Leafs
Buffalo Sabres

It was while playing as a defenseman with the Penguins that Grant reached for the golden ring and caught it not once but twice. Season 90-91 and season 91-92, Grant and his team mates won the Stanley Cup. It doesn’t get much better then that. If you have ever wondered what one of those rings looks like up close I can tell you that they are very impressive. During a conversation with Grant I asked him if I could take some photos of his rings. Grant was kind enough to bring them to the North Slope during his following tour. He allowed me to hold them and take photos. I would never have asked permission from him to put them on my finger, to me that would be just wrong, kind of like asking a sitting King if you could wear his crown for a few minutes. I was satisfied that he brought them up for me to see. I asked Grant to put them on his fingers for a few photos and while he did so I asked him what the most memorable moment of his career was, Grant paused for a moment and said he had two. The first being a winning goal he had made during a game against Boston, and the second was the first Stanley Cup win. Grant was quick to point out that although those two things were important, they were small compared to the two greatest accomplishments of his life to date, his two sons, Harrison 13yrs old, and Gordy, who is 2yrs old. With this simple statement Grant elevated himself to a new level, way beyond the reach of Google or Youtube. Grant is just a hell of a nice guy, and most of all, a caring father.
On a side note, June 12, 2009 the Pittsburgh Penguins brought home the Stanley Cup for the third time. It was pretty exciting to watch the game and even more so knowing that just a few miles away was a guy who was a big part of the Penguin’s Stanley Cup history.

Image by Randy J. Cole
Best wishes to Grant and his family.

Its Official

2009-09-20T12:38:00.000-07:00

It is official indeed. Winter has arrived on the North Slope. Our first good dusting of snow is on the ground and temperatures are dropping. The kicker for the change in season was the large flock of Tundra Swans flying over at about 10:15 a.m. I have to admit that I just wasn't ready for the shot. My camera was tucked away in it's bag. The photo sucks because of the distance. When I realized that they were swans, it was just to late. Anyway, to those in North Carolina and Chesapeake Bay area, heads-up. They are on there way. You should see them in early November. The Swan is the last migrating bird to leave the slope. It is a struggle at times watching a handful of parent swans trying to encourage their young to reach goals set by mother nature. When the time comes, and the young for what ever reason has not met those goals, they are left behind as food for the hungry fox. That is what nature is all about.

Sunset 9/15/2009

2009-09-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

Image by Randy J. Cole

Sept 15th @8:25 p.m. Interesting shot from the east shore of Lake Coleen, Deadhorse Alaska. This is right outside my current camp, actually more than a camp. It is a very nice hotel that was constructed this year. I am lucky enough to be housed there.

9-11-09 Sunrise Deadhorse AK

2009-09-11T13:07:00.000-07:00

Takraw in Portland

2009-08-29T23:51:00.001-07:00

It was a great day in the Northwest today and I was introduced to a sport that I was unaware of until I accompanied my wife and her friend Ben, to a small Buddhist temple in Portland. The occasion was an open market where Asian food products are sold. It also happened to be the location of a Takraw tournament. I never heard of it either but I am now a fan This sport has been around Southeast Asia, since the 15th century. I have never seen anything like it. Each team has three players that do battle with a hollow woven ball about the size of a cantaloupe. The teams are divided by a net not unlike a volleyball net but just a bit shorter. The object is to blast the ball over the net and onto the ground before your opponents can react. Now your saying well it sounds a lot like volleyball but there is a catch. You cannot use your hands. I watched with slight interest at first until I witnessed Takraw emerge as so many things. Volleyball, ballet, modern dance, ballet and martial arts. I was stunned. Although this round was won by the Portland team, everyone was amazed at the skill of the visitors. They were from Boise Idaho and more than once made the crowd gasp at the skill they displayed. The gentleman on the Boise team that was set up by his team mates to score defied gravity as you can see in these photos. He only failed to land on his feet twice during the match. Anyway, if you have a chance to view a Takraw event, don’t pass it up.

Parka Squirrel

2009-08-22T13:17:00.000-07:00

Parka Squirrel stops by for some sun! Prudhoe Bay Alaska 08/22/09. Considered a wonderful snack by the local brown bears and just cute by us humans.

The Sandrift “Wilbur, You Did Such A Wonderful Job”

2009-08-01T21:48:00.000-07:00

“Wilbur you did such a wonderful job!” These were the words cried out by the loud boisterous nurse with the southern accent moments after my father, Wilbur, died in his hospital bed, September 28th 1998. As she spoke these words she threw open the curtains which protected us from the outside world during our private moment. What a wonderful move it was on her part and I will never forget it. As the curtain parted I almost expected the appearance of a great entertainer, it was that dramatic to me. The healing of the living started as the sun emerged from behind the clouds. A large cross had been formed by the passing of two jets miles above the earth and we as a family looked at it as a sign meant specifically for us. The nurse was referring to the manner in which my father had managed his death but I now look at it as a representation of the way he lived as well. The following is a short story of one of his iteresting accomplishments while serving in the U.S. Army in Khorramshahr, Iran, during World War II.

Laughter is carried in the dry breeze across the nearby railway tracks into the forbidding desert. For the locals who did not speak English, a curiosity of the content of what was being viewed by the Americans must of made for some interesting conversations, after all who the hell was Humphrey Bogart? The location was Iran, 1943 - 44. I never asked my dad if he ever fired a shot during the war. I was too impressed to learn that he built a theater in the middle of a desert to really care. My dad, Staff Sgt. Wilbur G. Cole, was a carpenter during the war. A man with limited education but endless in his abilities to design and construct functional things that made ones life easier and more pleasant. Wilbur had to leave school when he was in the 10th grade to help his father run a ranch and cut ties for the Great Northern Railroad in Northwest Montana. Like most families back then they had to survive with little. During the early part of the war, my grandmother who I never met, used to panic when she saw a dust being kicked up by an approaching car. She was always worried that the government had learned of her extra 10 pounds of sugar she had stashed. Wilbur, while helping his father with the orders from Great Northern prior to the war, saw the need for transportation of the school kids to and from the Iron Creek area outside of Troy, Montana, including his younger sisters and brothers. The result was a make shift school bus made from the flatbed stake truck used to haul the railroad ties. He incorporated fold down seats along the sides, of his own design and made regular runs as one of the areas first school buses. That is the kind of thing my father did.
Dad joined the Army during the war and had worked his way to Staff Sgt. when he was sent to the dry deserts of Iran. He built many projects that he used to talk about, officers clubs, barber shops, including barber chairs of his own design. We grew up in a house that my father had built, and outside next to the house dad had constructed benches for enjoying the Montana evenings. These were benches he designed for the officers club in Iran but worked very well for a bunch of kids with growing pains.
The theater which was named, “The Sandrift,” offered movies of the day starring western movie stars under the stars of the middle east. It is so American and I am sure it was the focal point of many romances between American soldiers and maybe female support staff. The photos shown are taken out of my dads Iran photo album. A treasured piece of history for our family. It would be interesting to know when the theater met its end. It would also be interesting to have a glimpse of the stories that had there beginning under the stars while the films ran. I know how at least one story ended. You did do a wonderful job Wilbur!

Flight 23 Point Hope 2001

2009-07-19T23:02:00.000-07:00

Point Hope is a great distance from just about everywhere. The Police department was equipped with short term holding cells. Anyone neeeding longer then a day behind bars would have to be flown to the Village of Kotzebue which is south of Point Hope by just under 200 miles. When this occurred we would load the prisoner or prisoners onto a private air carrier such as the one above. The Cessna Caravan is a common site in Alaska. I remember a particularly busy weekend in Point Hope, where someone smuggled some booze into the village. Bad news and illegal as the remote villages in the North Slope are dry. A cheap fifth of whisky will fetch $150.00. It is also a common practice to make booze which has its own set of health issues and risks. On the weekend mentioned we dealt with a number of assaults and one bad car accident. I found this to be strange as there is a very small road infrastructure that goes nowhere. The driver, a female was without a doubt intoxicated and traveling at a high rate of speed. The vehicle rolled over several times. She managed to stagger away with bad bumps and bruises. More than the local clinic could handle but not serious enough to send her out on a medivac aircraft. At about the same time this was going on, I was dealing with a drunk guy that was struck across the head with a 2X4 after he had attacked another drunk. It turned out he also had a warrant for his arrest so while the aid crew attended to his small blood gushing wound on his forehead, I was placing him into handcuffs.
The Bering Air Cessna Caravan landed and three passengers boarded through the small door. The plane only held about ten passengers and a pretty good size amount of freight in the belly. There were already three others in the passenger area and they looked very concerned as the big police officer got onboard with two bloody drunks in cuffs. Rightfully so I might add. As the aircraft left the ground and made its first turn, the male drunk reached for the puke bag with cuffed hands and began what would become known as the puke fest of flight 23. Note to self: Small planes do not carry enough puke bags to accommodate more than one drunk per flight! BYOB.
As the male drunk wretched, the female reacted in kind reaching for her own little bag. Let the contest begin. It was like talking to someone who starts to yawn and yeah, you start to yawn and so on and so on. As the horrid smell of vomit filled the small cabin the pilot’s eyes burned a hole through his cool Ray Ban sunglasses and into my soul, wishing bad things on the nice policeman who dared bring these two buffets of madness onto his clean aircraft. The fact that this writer gags when changing diapers made this flight perhaps the worst I have ever been on. I am pretty sure that the other passengers on the plane felt the same way as they tried to cover ears and plug noses while praying for a strong tail wind. They should have been praying for more bags! How long does it take to fly 200 miles in a Cessna. I really couldn’t tell you because I had an out of body experience trying to find a happy place to hide. The best I could come up with was the Chucky Cheese in Rapid City SD, where I used to take my kids to when they were little. Didn’t help a bit as the two drunks began to plead for more bags. The only one remaining was in the tight grip of an elderly native lady near the front of the plane and she wasn’t about to let go. She was also wearing a pair of cool Ray Bans, hmmm, maybe she had a son or daughter that was a pilot. The pilot did the best he could to keep the planes nose up so the horrid liquid which now formed deltas on the floor of the aircraft stayed at the back of the plane with me.
Touch down in Kotzebue brought a new meaning to, “get me off this f*^@#*$ plane” as we all gasped for fresh air. The only ones not feeling better were the two with the cool Ray Bans, the pilot and old native lady, both finding new reasons to dislike drunks and cops.

Your Truck Will Be Right Down

2009-07-12T21:22:00.000-07:00

There is only two ways to get large items to Point Hope AK. You can fly it in on an aircraft if it fits, or by barge as seen here during the 2001 sea lift.

More Hope

2009-07-09T21:37:00.000-07:00

I took this photo during one of my outings on the four wheeler on the shores of the Chukchi Sea, which separates Russia from the shores of Alaska. It also happens to be the hunting grounds for the seals which the local natives use for food clothing and as the exterior skins for their whaling boats or “Umiaks.” For this reason the photo I took of the clouds seems to take on a special meaning. To me it appears to be the shape of a seal diving . I showed it to one of the local Elders who also was at the time one of the last remaining Shamans. She too felt it was a spiritual message.

Point Hope II

2009-06-26T21:27:00.001-07:00

Exploring the area around Point Hope was amazing to say the least. The photos shown here are of the old homes built underground by the early Inupiaq people. The structure was built using whale bones as the frame work as we would use 2X4’s today. Once the frame work was complete the area around the living quarters was covered with dirt and sod. An open area on the top was covered with seal gut membrane to allow light free access to the home. There are still a number of these old homes at thee old Point Hope village site. While I spent time out in the old village area it always felt as though I was being watched. If ever there was a place of haunting, this would be it. The natives can tell you many stories about such things. I heard a few odd stories from other officers who were assigned at Point Hope at one time or another. It was an amazing place filled with interesting people.

Prophet Of Point Hope?

2009-06-16T11:35:00.000-07:00

Mr. Nashapuk, who's grandfather told of his prophecy.

Two foot long baleen.

It seems like such a long time ago since I was a police officer in the village of Point Hope, Alaska. It was an interesting time in my life. Being a police officer in a very remote village will teach you a few things about life and about yourself. Some of those things you might not want to know. The village is home to just under a thousand people and is the largest remote village in the North Slope Borough. Barrow Alaska is the equivalent of a county seat. Barrow being the farthest northern community in the United States. The only way to get to Point Hope is by aircraft or across the tundra by snow machine when there is snow, and of course by boat. Point Hope is said to be one of the longest continually occupied areas in North America. It is the site where the land bridge extended from what is now known a Russia.
Point Hope is made up of 98% Inupiaq natives. The rest are a mix of folks who have moved to Point Hope for various reasons. If you live there one thing is for sure, you better be tough and when I lived there be ready to pay over $6.00 for a gallon of milk. That was back in 2001. There were supposed to be three police officers in the village but it was just another officer and myself while I was there. I will save those stories for my “Life In A Sandbox” tales to be continued at some point in time. For now I will just cover some interesting people and places as well as non related law enforcement tales about Point Hope. One such tale is about the gentleman in the photo. I actually cannot remember his first name but I will never forget his last name, Nashapuk. The name is important to me because of his brother Henry, but that is a different story. The gentleman in the photo is holding a handcrafted baleen basket. It is small but expensive. I bought one like it for my then wife Julie. They are weaved from baleen which is the inner upper portion of a bowhead whales mouth. These can range in size from 2ft to as much as 12ft in length. The baleen is used to separate sea water and food in the whales mouth. The whale will take krill or maybe small fish into its mouth. The whale then forces the water out using the baleen as a strainer. Once the water is ejected, the whale will swallow the food left behind. In the early days of whaling until the early 1900’s, baleen was used to create things such as corsets for woman because of its flexibility and strength. As its use dwindled as a result of new manmade materials, the natives began to improvise turning it into art work that could be traded and sold. The little basket in Mr. Nashapuk’s hand would be valued between $200.00 and $400.00. The small white piece at the top is ivory. The top is usually carved into shapes such as whale tales, polar bears, seals and such. I have a few small pieces of baleen that has decorative scrimshaw also pictured here.
I love talking to people and Mr. Nashapuk was no exception. He offered up a story about his grandfather that made wonder about the future. It was shortly after Sept. 11th, 2001. I stopped at his house to tell him I was leaving Point hope to work on the Prudhoe Bay oil field. We sat in his living room and the attack referred to as 9-11 was the topic of conversation. He relayed a story about his grandfather some sixty years prior, standing outside staring to the south. He said that his grandfather spoke slowly as he described his prophecy. He said that he could see thousands of people moving across the tundra heading north trying to escape the great fire! With the attacks on our country so fresh we pondered the possible scenarios. Did his grandfather see a nuclear war, or perhaps climate change? Maybe a celestial object such as a meteor striking the land to the south. What ever the case it was chilling.

Flight 132

2009-06-05T11:38:00.000-07:00

A few pics from inside one of the Conoco / BP 737-700 that flies the oil field personnel back and forth to and from the Alaska, North Slope / Prudhoe Bay. The weather wasn’t that great last Monday and the shots were a little disappointing. We were at about 30,000 ft. over the Brooks range and just beyond. The flight takes about 1.5 hours to get from Anchorage to the Slope. I make the trip at least twice a month.

Day Trip to Arcadia Beach Oregon

2009-05-29T19:21:00.001-07:00

Someones dream gone to hell in a hand basket.

A flock of pelicans approach.

Chaniya strolls.

Chaniya and I are reflected in a bubble as it is swept by with the wind.

Pelicans do a flyby

We started our day trip a bit late, about noon to be exact. The drive is about an hour and forty minutes to get to Cannon Beach and just down the road is Arcadia Beach. It was such a good day. Not too many people and a lot of great photo opportunities. What a place!

Toby Jr. Takes A Break

2009-05-26T09:57:00.000-07:00

What’s the difference between a grizzly bear and a brown you ask? Not a lot really. The browns live in areas closer to the coast and are a little larger then the higher elevation grizzlies, such as the ones that live in Montana. They are both best left alone. The polar bear is considered a marine mammal and of course lives by a whole different set of rules set down by Mother Nature. Much of the focus that centers around climate change, is based on the effect that it is having on the polar bear. It is true that climate change is taking place and it is having an effect on all species. Climate change is not new however. The area in Alaska that I work in, was once a tropical forest. It is still in question what effect man has on the process. The bottom line is that the polar bear will adapt to changes in the climate if not by mutation, then by adapting by breading with the brown bear which it has already done. It is just my opinion of course but I do see this as the new order of things. I would imagine that what you end up with is a bear more capable of surviving in more adverse conditions then before. The hunting skills and abilities of both animals. This is Mother Natures way. The photo was taken a few years ago and I admit the quality is less then perfect. It was a long shot with my 75 X 300 maxed out. This particular bear was alleged to be the off spring of the North Slopes most famous bears, “Toby.” Toby was one of the last character bears on the slope. He was smart, very smart and had grown up dealing with the security personnel. He knew exactly how far he would have to go into the tundra to avoid the cracker rounds. Toby would then just lay down and look at us knowing he had won. Toby was shot and killed after charging a group of people in the Prudhoe Bay Hotel a few years ago. This was after he had broke into the second story fire escape looking for some food. His death was reported on CNN and we all felt the loss. His offspring , like the one above, still roam the tundra.

Polar Bear in the Cotton

2009-05-19T11:26:00.000-07:00

I am ashamed of myself for not posting this photo earlier. It is one of my favorites. I took this back in 2004 I think, in September. One of our functions as security is to monitor bear activity and report to the feds. We are also all trained and certified by the Department of Wildlife to haze both brown and polar bears on the Prudhoe Bay oil field. By hazing I don’t mean getting them drunk and making them pick up marshmallows with their butt cheeks. By hazing I mean making them change direction by honking a horn, a short blast on the siren and at times cracker shells. These are launched in the direction of the bears from a shotgun and a small explosion occurs letting them know they need to go the other way. This is a last resort especially with the polar bear. As a rule they will visit the field and just rest in a location for a day or two then move on usually back to thee ocean. For all of us that have been assigned to sit and keep an eye on polar bears, I can tell you it is a privilege to see these beautiful creatures up close, (but not too close) in their natural surroundings. The oil companies go to great lengths to avoid disturbing them. An example would be the ice roads that are built every winter cannot be within a one mile distance of a den containing a female bear and her cubs. The pregnant female dens in the winter on shore to give birth.
The bear is the photo was a female approximately three years old. Most likely just kicked out on her own by her mother. I was observing this bear and while doing so, I was listening to Bruce Hornsby’s CD, Halacon Days,” which had just been released. The music was great and I sent a note with the photo to his web site and explained the circumstances. I never thought I would hear back from him but I received a note via e-mail, “I didn’t know I was writing polar bear sound track music, but I love it!” The photo and our exchanged was on the front page of his web site for a year. A short time after this happened I saw Bruce in concert in Baltimore, while taking a vacation on the east coast.

"I Grow Old" For Mothers Day

2009-05-10T12:12:00.000-07:00

Click photo to read.

One of the prominent memories I have of my mother goes back to 1962. It was the Cuban missile crises, which although was taking place thousands of miles away from our Montana home, was still of concern. I only had a slight idea of what was going on, but then again I was only 6. I do remember my mother being very worried and listening to Walter Cronkite, as he spoke of what could happen should mistakes be made. The part of this that is burned into my memory, is me standing in our front yard just behind my mother. A breeze moving through the trees, just enough to make me notice fallen autumn leaves slowly pass over the shadow of my mom . She turned and looked at me as the city did a test of the sirens which would warn of an impending nuclear attack. The fear that it placed in me will not soon be forgotten. As the sirens ripped through the cool fall air I stepped close to my mom and my little shadow was soon consumed by moms. She put her arm around my shoulder and soon much of my fear was brought under control by her touch. It was not until many years later that I started to think about my parents mortality. I distinctly remember that I thought long and hard about it and came to the conclusion that they could not die before me. I simply could not handle the idea. They did pass however and it was painful. My father, in 1998, from a relentless cancer and my mother,in 2003, of the combined effects of diabetes and Alzheimer’s. In both cases they suffered enough, and as painful as it was, it was a relief that they moved on to the next step.
Over the past few years I have reflected a lot on that October day in our front yard. I give thanks to this woman, Celina M. Cole, for casting a tall straight and comforting shadow that will remain with us kids, until it is our time to move on as well.

Randy J. Cole

Crisp Montana Air

2009-05-01T22:29:00.000-07:00

During the winter of 2007,my wife Chaniya and I went to Turner Mountain ski area near Libby Montana. I had planned on a few shots of the ski lift from the parking lot. I had no interest at all in going up the hill on the lift because I am a chicken. I really am not impressed with heights. My wife put me on the spot when we were approached by the lift operator who invited us to take a ride to the top. I politely told him that my wife would not like it much but as these words left my mouth, Chaniya said, "Honey, I think we should do it. I was stunned and now trapped. We had to go up the hill, my little wife from Thailand said we should. To back out now would expose me as a coward. We went and it was a treat for sure. The beauty could not be measured. Chaniya held on with both hands to the center pole and kept her eyes shut most of the way up. I was very proud of her for making me go. The photos that I shot on the trip up and while on top were some of the best I have taken to date. Thank you dear for being so brave.

Randy

The Other Side

2009-04-11T21:53:00.000-07:00

This is just an odd ball one I created sometime ago. My laptop is down for the count so I have been limited on my time spent on the blog. Happy Easter!

No Thanks

2009-03-28T14:23:00.000-07:00

One can never be surprised by what you will see on the North Slope. These photos were taken on Sept. 27th 2007. The Ranger is equipped with a water tank and a very long boom with a nozzle attached. It is controlled by a door operator. It is used to clean power line insulators to help prevent shorts in the lines. If it looks like a dangerous job I can tell you that it is. This very Helicopter crashed on the oil field about two weeks after I took these photos. The pilot was seriously injured and the doorman suffered some injuries as well. This particular process was developed for use on the slope but can now be seen being used all over the world.

Columbia Gorge

2009-03-15T23:34:00.000-07:00

Beautiful drive home from Libby, MT to Vancouver today. If you ever have a chance to drive the Columbia Gorge, take the north side on Highway 14. It is spectacular. Actually the Oregon side is pretty beautiful as well.

RJ

Hidden Things

2009-03-13T23:37:00.001-07:00

Just a little fun with a mirror image. A tree farm along highway 84 in Oregon near Pendelton. Enlarge it and see what you can find.

Jeff Foxworthy, Eat Your Heart Out

2009-02-22T09:16:00.000-08:00

Jeff Foxworthy, eat your heart out!
OK, this not really a redneck mansion. It is a rig camp on the North Slope used to house workers for its assigned rig. The rigs are moved from one location to the next for exploration or reworking old well sites. They move often and when they do the workers follow them with these self contained camps. It is interesting to note that while these camps are on the move, either the night or day shift workers will in fact be on board sleeping.

RJ Cole

Just Another Alaska Sunrise

2009-02-21T18:00:00.000-08:00

This photo was taken today at about 09:23. The temp was a muggy minus 30. This time of year we see this almost daily and the sunsets can be pretty spectacular as well.

Image by Randy J. Cole

Arctic Cotton

2009-02-15T14:11:00.000-08:00

September of 2003, the sun is just right while I was on patrol. The Arctic Cotton which grows on the tundra during the summer, glows like gold as it bathes in the final days of sunlight.

Image by RJ Cole

Northern Exposure Revisited

2009-02-05T23:07:00.000-08:00

I felt a need to go back to about 1994 and a television show that remains my favorite to this day. “Northern Exposure.” This program was set in a remote fictitious Alaska town by the name of Cicely. It was filmed primarily in Roslyn, Washington and other areas throughout the area. One such area was a place called Rattle Snake Lake, just outside North Bend WA and just a short walk from where I used to live before the series. That episode was the one that included the coffin being flung into the lake with the help of trebucheta. The show was so unusual and at the time helped me relax after a tough day on the streets as a Police Officer in the city of Bothell WA.
I had the chance to meet one of the stars of the show, a remarkable lady named Peg Phillips or (Ruth Ann) as she was known as on the show. I spent sometime in a restaurant seated at a table with her and listened to her talk about how lucky she was to be a part of the NX family. I still have the 8X10 autographed photo she sent me after our meeting. It hangs in my office along with some others from the show. Peg passed away in November of 2002. She seemed to me to be a lot like the character she played.
On a number of occasions we would drive to Roslyn and watch the production take place in the streets. One of my favorite stars of the show was the beautiful 1960 Cadillac Eldorado driven by Maurice, (Barry Corbin.) The car was owned by a gentleman who lived in Bothell, WA. He drove it everyday until the show needed it. They simply put Alaska plates on it and away they went.
My sister Leslie Laursen, was chosen for a small part in one of the episodes, “The Quest” which was the set up for the departure of Rob Morrow (Dr. Fleischman) from the show. Of course the rules were laid out. Do not speak to the stars unless you are spoken to especially Morrow. Les went about her business and while at the craft service table Morrow spoke briefly to her. Les had met some impressive people while she worked as an actress and was even entertained by Jonny Depp who played a guitar for her on the set of Benny and Joon. Morrow saying hello was nothing much to write home about. After they were done shooting her scene she exited the Pipeline Studio building in Redmond WA, where most of the indoor scenes were shot. As she sat in the lobby waiting my arrival, two of the other stars came out and visited with her. Janine Turner, (Maggie) and John Cullum, (Holling Vincoeur, owner of the brick) they made her feel very welcome.
The show aired from 1990 to 1995.
A foot note, my former mother in law who lives in Spokane, WA and is veterinarian assistant took part in giving the injection that took the life of Morty the Moose, who was seen in the beginning of every show as he wanders in the streets of Cicely. He was very ill at the time and it had to be done. I have included a few photos that I took while visiting Roslyn during a shoot. Enjoy!

Barry Corbin next to Caddy.

1960 Cadillac Eldorado

The Brick, inside it is about one quarter the size of the set version.

Darren Burrows, (Ed) walks with his brother during a break.

Ominous note sent with a photo of one of the actors from Pipeline Productions.

Thai Bumble

2009-01-23T14:29:00.000-08:00

While visiting the Royal temples in Bangkok 2006, this half bee half eagle flew by me and did the pollination thing on some foliage. It was the largest bee I had ever seen.

Phuket Island

2009-01-16T00:02:00.000-08:00

This is another photo from my first visit to Thailand. February of 2006. This area along the ocean was the scene of the tsunami, Dec. 29, 2004. Thailand wasted no time repairing the damage done. Perhaps the man seated was reflecting on that day and the 5000 plus people who perished.

More From Thailand

2009-01-15T00:58:00.002-08:00

One of the interesting things about traveling to unfamiliar lands is the comforting feeling one gets when he or she runs across a familiar piece of Americana. Example given, my first trip to Thailand, February 2006. My then future wife, Chaniya, took me on a boat ride on the River of The King. This is a common destination for those traveling to Bangkok. The ride was very entertaining until some of the water splashed into my mouth from a small rouge wave. I was a bit concerned because of the questionable purity of the water. I remember breaking into a sweat for awhile worrying about the rouge wave exiting my body from the other end with the same ferocity that which it had entered. Never happened! Seeing the familiar Coca Cola sign had that comforting effect I spoke of above.

A Warmer Place

2009-01-08T17:55:00.000-08:00

This young lady above is my daughter, Miss Elie. My wife Chaniya was recently home in Thailand visiting her family in the north part of the country. Miss Elie was ready to ride one of the many floats taking part in the celebration known as Loy Krathong. I have never experienced the celebration as of yet but look forward to doing so.

Northern Lights in Prudhoe

2009-01-02T20:58:00.000-08:00

This is a photo I took back in 2003. The Northern Lights are not an easy subject to photograph. The ones that appear this far north do not have the wide range of colors and as a rule are pretty much green most of the time. But still fascinating to watch and seem to be alive.

A Loud Brilliance

2008-12-06T12:54:00.000-08:00

There are a few sounds that will make a guy stop and take notice, one being a Harley as its rider throttles up. Another example is the sound of a siren or maybe the report from a weapon. The one that always makes me stop and take notice is the rumble of a DC-6 aircraft as it taxis down the runway. It may have just arrived or is preparing to take off. The four powerful radial engines that move this beautiful bird will put any Harley to shame. The rumble vibrates your chest with every turn of the blades.
Working in Alaska has provided me with many opportunities to view these 50’s vintage workhorses. No where else in the United States are aircraft of such a proud heritage flown. They are still used in Alaska although the company which once boasted a large number of DC-6 aircraft, Northern Air Cargo, retired its last DC-6 in September of 2008. It will be on display at the flight museum in Anchorage next year. The building of the Trans Alaska Pipeline was accomplished with the help of the DC-6.
One company in Alaska that still widely uses this aircraft is, Everts Air Fuel Service. They are used to haul fuel to the remote sites in Alaska.
Deadhorse Alaska Airport, which doesn’t sound like much, but it is the hub of the Prudhoe Bay Oil Field complex. A small airport by most standards, but also a busy one. Air traffic comes and goes on a regular basis. Alaska Airlines has a terminal here which accommodates about eight thousand tourist a year, most of which are members of the Princess and Holland America Tours. They either fly in and take a bus down the famous Hall road or come by bus, and leave by Alaska Airlines.
I recently was at the Deadhorse Airport when I recognized the sound of a DC-6 landing and shortly there after taxing to a small fuel dock area next to the Northern Air Cargo terminal. She was the most beautiful DC-6 I had ever seen. Grey and blue color scheme adorned her fuselage. Extremely clean and there was something else about her that was different. She belonged to Everts Air Fuel but there was an extra marking on the nose that I had not seen before. I got a little closer and was thrilled to see the likeness of Howard Hughes, on the nose with the familiar Fedora hat.
I had heard about this DC-6 back in 2001 while I was a Police Officer with the North Slope Borough. I was told that one of the DC-6 aircraft then owned by Northern Air Cargo, was purchased from the Howard Hughes estate back in the early seventies. When they went to pick it up in Nevada, it was stored in a hanger in like new condition. It was like new because it had only 9.5 hours and this plane was built in the mid to late fifties.
I called Everts Air Fuel to get some more info on the aircraft. The gentleman that answered was more then happy to talk about the plane that he affectionately referred to as Bravo-80. I was told that the aircraft was bought by Hughes who wanted it basically as a base line to help him design his own aircraft that was to be used by “Trans Word Airlines,” or TWA. He wanted to make sure that the design for the Constellation exceeded that of the DC-6 which was flown by the competition Pan Am. The original 9.5 hours on this DC-6 had been flown by one of America’s most interesting figures and is a true piece of aviation history.

Randy J. Cole

Brenden Foster, Rest In Peace 1997-2008

2008-11-23T21:05:00.000-08:00

I am miserable as I write this. I do not do a lot of posting anymore because of many reasons. But I am compelled to spell out my feelings tonight after learning that the young boy, Brenden Foster, from the town where I served as a police officer for a number of years, passed away on Friday. If you had been following the story about this incredible human being you will feel the loss as I do. I never met him in person, but I wish I had. If you have no idea who I am talking about, just simply google his name. This 11 year old boy was perhaps one of the bravest souls I have ever seen. Pure of heart and soul. In the final days of his life he made a wish, To feed the hungry. Unable to do so himself, those who surrounded him made his wish come true. Thousand have began to feed the hungry and homeless in the name of Brenden Foster. He had one other wish. That he could help save the bees which for unknown reasons are on decline. Packages of wild flower seeds will be handed out at his funeral in an effort to help the cause. What a great kid he was and a shining example he will always be.
I wrote the poem below, “Undaunted” for no apparent reason. I somehow feel now that it is a connection to Brenden and his undaunted spirit. Rest in peace little man!

Randy J Cole

Undaunted

2008-11-07T17:30:00.000-08:00

Tundra grass gone to seed, drifting in the wind like a long lost lover,
roots buried deep in the arctic soil, holds them steadfast, no need for cover.

They hold on tight to the soil, even as the cold snaps to 60 below,
wind bends them to the breaking point, frozen and covered in snow.

Spring comes in June; the seeds that stayed dormant will spread,
creation of a green homeland, for the feathered ones that nature has led.

What lessons can we find in the tundra grass that grows in a hostile land unwanted,
from this simple plant that overcomes the harsh, and continues life, undaunted.

Words and Images by Randy J. Cole (Dedicated to the Palin Family of Alaska)
Photo location: Sand dunes near arctic ocean, Prudhoe Bay Oil Field

Soon I Will Fall

2008-10-04T10:47:00.000-07:00

Fall of 2003,

One of the reasons I love fall. It is a time to shed the old and make room for the new. Mother Natures house cleaning if you will.

Winter Comes

2008-10-03T23:06:00.000-07:00

Winter arrived on the North Slope today. It arrived on the wings of 30+ mph winds. If this is any indication, it will be a long tough winter. It was as though someone turned on a light switch. Sadly, I know that many of the young tundra swans were not ready for the change. The parents will follow there instincts and head south, leaving their young to the mercy of Mother Nature. How painful that must be. You know they must feel the pain as they are a loving creature. They mate for life and will not take on another mate if death should separate them. The loss of their young would be unbearable. Next year, we will look up toward the vast Alaska sky; we will see the pairs of swans return to continue the cycle. It is truly an amazing story in the book of life.

Camp????

2008-10-01T20:01:00.001-07:00

Images by Randy J. Cole / Random Stone Productions 3/2003

Some of you might wonder what I am referring to when I mention the camp that I live in on the North Slope. This is the BOC (Base Operations Camp) on the west side of the Prudhoe Bay oil field complex. It is more like living in a cruise ship than a camp. The rooms are comfortable warm and nice. This camp has around four hundred or so beds and most of them are private rooms but you share a bathroom with the room next to you as well as the shower. There are three main camps on this field but more are being built. The BOC actually has a swimming pool that doubles as a source of water for fire protection. The workout areas are pretty nice as well. This camp has an upper level work out area that includes volley ball court and top of the line tread mill, rowing, free weights and so on. It also has an indoor running track. The food is remarkable as well. Sunday is prime rib night, and Tuesday is steak night. It gets pretty easy to become used to working in this kind of environment. Of course if you have a job that takes you outside you quickly find that the companies have to provide nice services to compensate for the 70 below weather that we will be having soon.

Randy

Karate Swan Meets Arctic Fox

2008-09-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

Mama doesn’t want any part of the young arctic fox who is courting the young swan at the left. The fox knows well the damage that can be inflicted by those giant wings. He gave up and left after some thought.

Image by Randy J. Cole
Prudhoe Bay, Alaska
Sept 9, 2004

Drill

2008-09-26T17:50:00.000-07:00

Image by Randy J. Cole Sept. 29th 2003,
Random Stone Productions

People ask me often, "so what do you think about drilling?" My answer is always the same, "why not?" It is clear that we need to find away to create newer and cleaner energy but, until we do, we need to still be tapping into our natural resources.Unless politicians get off their asses, and say yes to more drilling, this country will have more than just financial failure to worry about. You cannot simply shut off our oil supply and expect everyone to go out and buy a new bike or hybrid auto. People who work for a living cannot afford that, it is just that simple. Nor can we all afford to run out and buy new heating systems for our homes.
As far as the animals go, They will do just fine if we drill in ANWAR. I was watching the History channel the other day and they had a show about Alaska. They mentioned ANWAR and the potential damage that could be done while showing video of mountains and beautiful mountain lakes and even Eagles. Excuse me, I said excuse me, but that is not the ANWAR that the drilling will take place in. Imagine if you will the ugliest part of North Dakota, no offense ND but it is just for comparisons. There are no mountains, there is most likely small bodies of water but certainly no mountain lakes. I am also sure that there are no Eagles in the area where drilling will take place.
I love animals especially the ones up here. There are a large number of them to see on the North Slope most of which take refuge on the Prudhoe Bay Oil Field. They are protected here, there is no hunting allowed and no weapons except by the security officers and North Slope police officers as well as other law enforcement officers.
It is time to start working toward the new energy sources all right but if you think the current economic problems are bad your gonna love whats coming unless we fill the gap between petroleum and new energy in a responsible manner.

Randy

Clara

2008-09-22T16:00:00.000-07:00

Clara attempts to impress the boys with her best PEZ imitation.

Randy J. Cole

Boys Will Be Boys

2008-09-21T20:40:00.000-07:00

This week has been interesting. A small herd of mule deer decided to move into the neighborhood. They have been eating the apples at the neighbors house and bedding down for naps. As you can see they also use the time to practice their skills. This is in town I might add and not out in the country. Goofy deer!

Randy

September 29, 1998, Last Entry

2008-09-17T19:58:00.000-07:00

The days grow shorter and colder. The date 9/29/2008 approaches and will mark the 10th anniversary of my fathers death. Wilbur Gillian Cole. A house painter and a good father. He worked all of his life harder than most. Providing things for his family that many of the wealthier families could never acquire. A skating rink in our front yard where we could skate into the night while polka music played on the outside speakers. Wonderful memories that make me feel lost as I look at the modern world of video games and skate boards. We were lucky in so many ways.
My father worked until 1986 and had just begun to enjoy his retirement. A few issues came to be, like the cancer that paid him a visit in his colon. He thought he had won that round. Cancer is a stubborn foe, it would return later in his life.
My wonderful mother Celina, started to fade from our lives as well. Alzheimer disease started her down the long road to childhood and finally darkness. My dad struggled to care for this wonderful woman the best he could but when he no longer had the strength, due to the cancer which had returned, my mother was placed into a home in Spokane, Washington. My sisters and I made regular visits to her and she received the finest care possible.
At some point in time, during my dads struggle with cancer, one of my sisters left a message to dad on the chalk board in the basement. Uplifting messages to help him fight and remember that we cared. The messages were written with every visit.
The last entry read, “Dad passed away 9/29/98 3:15 p.m.” We all can look at an event that occurs right before or after the death of a loved one and relate to it as a sign that all is well. The passing of my father was no different in a number of ways. I will never forget the nurse who came into the room seconds after dad took his last breath and in a loud strong voice while throwing open the curtains said, “Oh Wilbur, you did such a wonderful job!” It really lifted the gloom that had filled the room and we started to heal. One of the signs witnessed by someone other than a family member occurred at the care center where my mother Celina, unable to speak for sometime prior to my father’s death, very clearly yelled my father’s name, “Wilbur” at or very close to the time of my fathers death before retreating back into herself until her death in 2003.
The chalk board and messages still exists but I covered the original with another board in an attempt to protect some family history.

Alone

2008-09-08T12:30:00.000-07:00

While waiting for my then girl friend to receive clearance to come to the states, we went through a lot of lonely moments. Chaniya had a very sad conversation with me one day and I responded with this design. Soon I will be taking her to the airport in Spokane and she will return home for three months. Loneliness is a great inventor of inspiration but i would prefer to be with her.
The photo was taken on the island of Phuket and that is Chaniya enjoying the beach on a lovely evening.

Image and words by Randy J. Cole

Heart Songs

2008-09-07T21:39:00.000-07:00

"Day dreams are but the silent songs of ones heart and soul"

This is one of the first photos I used for a poster and is one of the first posters I sold. One of them hangs in the hallway next to the window where it was taken. The girl remains unidentified today. She was with a group of health professionals that were on the slope for a health fair. She managed to squeeze herself onto this little window ledge that is in a hall way that leads to my office. I asked her if she would mind if I snapped her photo and she agreed. She seemed a bit put out when I asked her not to look at the camera. The photo was taken 11/05/2004.

The Story Behind Random Stone

2008-09-05T22:20:00.000-07:00

The Random Stone concept came about in early 2005. I was working on the North Slope and I was feeling different. I was losing my balance, getting very dizzy while tying my shoes. I was worried about the situation and made an appointment to see my Doctor when I arrive back in my home town of Libby, Montana.
The Prudhoe Bay Oil Field is a vast complex covering about two hundred square miles. Just outside the controlled access to the field is an area called Deadhorse. It houses a large number of companies that support the oil field operations. You cannot call it a town as there is no permanent residence. Everyone who works on the slope lives elsewhere and commutes to and from the oil field either by one of two private charter jets, or an Alaska Airlines jet. Like me a number of workers live in the lower forty-eight and travel back and forth while working a two on and two off schedule. We pay for our own tickets to Anchorage but the charter flights to the Deadhorse airport is covered by BP or Conoco Phillips. The planes are co-owned by these two companies.
On this particular day I was standing at the counter in the airport awaiting the boarding process. I suddenly found myself watching an internal movie. The title was “Random Stone.” Now when I say an internal movie I am not talking about a projector or video. I am talking a hallucination if you will, being played out in my head. I was unable to stop it. I was conscious of what was going on and acknowledged people walking by and saying hello and yet the story still played. The colors and characters flashed before my eyes were so real and included such detail including names and even a particularly interesting automobile driven by the main character. I really thought to myself that I had an active brain tumor playing havoc in my head. I was convinced that that is what was going on.
The event stopped as fast as it had started. I was left bewildered and stunned, and planning my own funeral.
When I arrived home in Libby I wasted no time getting to my doctors office. He performed some simple test and determined that I had nothing more than an internal ear infection. Wow, I was so relieved and yet still without an answer as to what had caused the event at the airport. Could the infection had triggered some crazy thespian tricks within the sanctum of cranium?
The event never left my memory. I have two very close friends in Troy, Montana that I visit on a regular basis. Dave and Sandy, and they have provided me with numerous glimpses of what it is like to work with the Hollywood types. They have worked with some of the best, Robert Redford, Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard, and that is just the directors. They are also the people mentioned in my story about John Stamos. While visiting my friends, I told them of the unusual events that took place in Deadhorse. They liked the story that came from nowhere and told me to write it down as a story treatment. A story treatment is a synopsis of a complete story. Dave and Sandy then presented it to a dear friend of theirs by the name of Marie Cantin. Marie is a movie producer with some impressive credentials. Marie gave me some good input on the story and not much has been done with it since except Dave did have a chance to talk to a VP of development at FOX studios about the concept and she liked it. I have taken a number of avenues on this story, but I have yet to complete any of them.
I would really like to write a novel and have started that process. I would also like to continue to pursue getting into the hands of someone interested in making it into a movie. Not an easy task. What I do know for sure is that the concept is different and I am supposed to pursue it. The universe gave it to me as a gift and I need to follow-up on it before I die. It is important to me. The above poem is one of the by products of the event. I made a trip to the very Tahoma, Washington National Cemetery where my story took place. The flag is the one that covered my father’s coffin during his military honors burial in Libby Montana. It was very odd because the cemetery was much like the one that I had seen and to be honest, I had never heard of Tahoma National Cemetery until I saw it in my daydream like state. I was shocked to find out it really existed. I won’t disclose much about the story but I will tell you that this happened long before I had the chance to meet John Stamos, and he was the one that popped into my head as the lead. The story is about a very successful photographer, Jack Dillon, in the L.A. scene who gets involved in an amazing situation with his actress girl friend, Holly. We will just have to see what happens with the project. Many of the things I do including my vehicle license, RANDOM 1 include the name. And now you know the story behind Random Stone.

Muskox

2008-09-03T19:04:00.000-07:00

Today was a good day! The elusive Muskox were pretty close to the road and didn't seem to mind having a photo taken. This small heard was between the Prudhoe Oil Field and the Kuparuk Oil Field. This summer the bears were pretty hard on the herds. These ones are pretty healthy and content.

Images by Randy j. Cole

Flown

2008-09-02T22:03:00.000-07:00

Flown

There is one thing we all know,
when its time, we must go.

Friends, lovers, sisters and brothers,
hardest of all, our fathers and mothers.

May we pass with no struggle or strife,
leaving fond memories of our life.

When the time to leave is mine,
raise a glass of fine red wine.

As I travel through the unknown,
smile and drink to me, for this bird has flown.

Words and image by Randy J. Cole,

We

2008-09-02T17:14:00.000-07:00

The structure of life can be compared to atmospheric conditions that surround us daily. Seldom do days pass without a breeze or fog, or perhaps a slight rain to obscure a clear reflection of our lives as well as the landscape. When it does happen, it should be coveted like a newborn child, with the time taken to inventory what we have and what we are missing.

Image and words by Randy J. Cole
Photo 08/26/2006 North Slope of Alaska

Sept. 27, 2003 North Slope AK

2008-08-31T09:09:00.000-07:00

This one has always been one of my favorites.

Temple close up

2008-08-30T12:24:00.000-07:00

The hand work that went into the creation of this temple in Bangkok amazes me to no end. I really loved that place!

RJ

Journey

2008-08-29T22:43:00.000-07:00

This is a creation from my second trip to Thailand. We were at a resort at Hue Hin on the Gulf of Thailand. You may have to click it to read it. It was a poster I sold through random Stone Productions.
The colors are real and untouched. The back ground was a cement wall. The flower is a Bird of Paradise.

Randy

Vermont Color

2008-08-29T22:21:00.000-07:00

A bit of contrast from the last. This photo is from 2004 on one of my trips to the east coast. It was a great trip and this photo is one of my favorites.

Randy

Iron Horse Series

2008-08-28T19:18:00.000-07:00

Speaking of black and white photos. These are a few I took in Snoqualmie WA a few years back. Makes you wonder what people will be photographing 100 years from now.

Crapper in a Wrapper

2008-08-23T23:02:00.000-07:00

About four years ago I snapped this shot of a porta-potty that had been delivered to the Central Check Point on Prudhoe Bay. The toilet inside the check point was in-op at the time. So, the mystery is solved about where one might do a nature call in 60 below zero weather in the Arctic.

Ignite The Nites

2008-08-17T06:44:00.000-07:00

Ignite the Nites is a great way to spend the hot summer nights in Libby, if you are at all a person who enjoys automobiles. This celebration is sponsored by a local car club called the Igniters. Friday afternoon the fun begins at 5 p.m. when Mineral Ave. is shut down and turned over to the 130 some collector cars and their owners. They spend a few hours driving back and fourth displaying their machines. The ones that can do so are allowed to burn off the tires. It was interesting and provided a glimpse into a world in which $4.00 a gallon gas has got to take some of the fun out of celebration. The celebration goes through the weekend and includes numerous activities.

The Reach

2008-08-15T14:41:00.000-07:00

I have been so busy while at home. Not a lot of time to do much with the blog. I thought I would throw some of my past photo work at you for now. This is one of my sons. This photo was untouched. Hey launched into his rendition of Some Where Over The Rainbow.

I Don't Like Travel Days

2008-08-12T00:59:00.001-07:00

Ted Stevens Airport, Anchorage, Alaska 10:09 p.m.

I have grown to dislike my travel day or should I say day and a half and sometimes two days. I work 7 days a week 12 hours a day and normally for six weeks straight. I then have to deal with this day. Travel day. I work until 5 p.m. and at about 7p.m. fly from Deadhorse on a charter 737. I arrive in Anchorage at 8:30 p.m. My flight today leaves Anchorage at 12:30 a.m. and I arrive in Seattle 3.5 hours later. At 7 a.m. I board a puddle jumper, (small) prop driven aircraft and fly to Spokane. Time to get my car out of the parking area, which as of late cost me $200.00. Ah yes, I fill my gas tank up and drive 3 hours to Libby Montana. I spend the next two days trying to rest up. The only good thing of course is being with my lovely wife. Not a very happy post. I look around at the gate and I can tell the flight is going to be full. Tourist, fisherman, oil workers. I should count my blessings. My flight was not one of the ones that got canceled because of the ash in the air from the volcano eruption. Ok maybe it isn’t so bad. Oh wait, she just announced that the plane was late. Refer back to first sentence.

Randy

Pooh (Annie) Update

2008-08-10T22:20:00.000-07:00

I received this wonderful photo of Pooh today. As you can see she looks great and happy. Also a note from her owner Tess. I have also included a note of thanks from Lindy.

From Tess,

Pooh is doing great! She is almost back to herself. I am going to talk to her doctor tomorrow and see if I can start giving her more food. She is so hungry. She ran to the road to get the paper this morning. Her bark is getting better. When I brought her home, her right ear stayed down a lot. It is usually up now. Her eyes are bright and happy. Her tail is constantly wagging. She isn't losing her balance like she did Friday. We had a quiet day yesterday, just us. I think that helped. She got to rest. I am attaching a new picture from Saturday. Have a great day!Tess

From Lindy,

Thanks to all of those people posting comments on the blog and the thoughts and prayers that you were sending this way. I read them everyday and appreciated every last one of them!

I also want to thank Wandermere Animal Hospital so much for there amazing compassion for the patients they see on a day to day basis. I visited Pooh on a daily basis and often more than once and they welcomed me with open arms each time. The entire team there deserve so much credit and I will continue to be a loyal customer to them with my dog Keeley. Thank you Wandermere Animal Hospital for everything you did for Pooh!!

Also, to the couple of people that donated money to help with the vet bill that was acquiring. My mother in law and parent's best friend (you know who you are) your generosity is amazing.

Just a photo

2008-08-09T15:57:00.000-07:00

Thought I would throw this photo up for you. I was going through one of my desk top folders and located this. I took this photo exactly four years ago today. The facility in the back ground is Gathering Center 1 on the Prudhoe Bay Oil Feild.

I Love it When a Plan Comes Together

2008-08-08T19:35:00.000-07:00

Well, if you are reading this blog for the first time, I suggest that you scroll down to the beginning of Pooh's (Annie's) story. You find that first post under Annie's Saviors. It is interesting and has a great conclusion. It would not have been so great if not for the efforts of a number of people.

Lindy Terry, who started the rescue effort by risking her safety while trying to latch on to a dog she had never met and one that was seriously injured as well. That is dedication to other living things.

The anonymous people from the two mystery cars that got out and helped catch Pooh before she could enter a busy roadway.

The wonderful staff at the Wandermere Animal Hospital who performed as a team to save Pooh's life. Should I come back as a dog or heaven forbid, a cat, please let them be the ones to neuter me. They are good and I trust them.

The lady that drug Tess into her home to see the news report, thank you!

Tess, Poohs owner, You demonstrated a great love for this dog through your neighborhood door to door searches and the dog knows it as well as the ones that were there to witness the reunion. They say that Pooh was on the verge of speech.
This is an example of how your good thoughts and prayers can be answered.

Do not be afraid to stop and help another living animal. Two legs or four. At some point in time you will be rewarded.

I received an e-mail from Tesses sister Melodie. She had some well deserved concerns about my first post about Pooh, (Annie.)I asked for her permission to post her comments and she agreed. I will also post my response.

Dear Randy,

I just read your blog entries about Pooh and felt I needed to respond. First of all, I would like to thank your niece Lindy, for pulling over to resue Pooh, my sister's baby. Not everyone would do that, not knowing how an injured dog will react. It upset me to read some of your comments, however, and I would like to set the record straight. If you knew Tess and Pooh you would know that many of your descriptions are way off base:

I look at my unkempt fur and feel this thing around my neck that once held my identity. The tags long since gone as are the praising words of the child who once fed me.
Could her fur have been unkempt due to escaping from an attacking coyote? She had been attacked at the house and was found approximately a half-mile away.

I, once loved, now encouraged to keep my distance from humans. Tormented by thrown rocks and stinging words.
Pooh has never experienced thrown rocks or stinging words. She is naturally shy around everyone except Tess, even family.

I cannot help but to lay on my side preparing to be struck,... Pooh had been on the run from a coyote for who knows how long. She may have lain on her side from exhaustion, not waiting to be struck. Maybe she was relieved someone saw her and was helping her . Maybe she could not fight any more.

The little girl that had looked as though she been on the streets for sometime ... Pooh stayed outside on guard-duty during the day while Tess was at work. After Tess got home Pooh was in the house, lying on the end of the couch. She was not a street dog.

It makes you wonder if maybe she was left behind by her owners by accident or maybe on purpose. If Pooh were truly the unloved, abused dog your blog seems to portray she would not have been looking for her owner. Pooh is very attached to Tess and would not have left her willingly.

I will miss "Annie" very much but deep down I knew that she would not be ours for long.Once Annie saw her owner she transformed into a completely different dog!! Once they made contact Annie jumped into her owner, Tess's lap and kissed her on the face and cuddled as close as she could to her.
I think this says it all. This reaction lets you know that Pooh is loved. I call every night and know how many places Tess went and how many people she talked to. She never gave up on her and always talked about when Pooh came home, not if she came home. Again, thank you to Lindy for rescuing Pooh and to you for contacting KREM2 and getting her on tv so Tess could find her. The two you put events in motion so Pooh could return home where she belongs. We need more people willing to do this. Melodie(Tess's sister)

Thank you for your response Melodie, I hope I cleared up any doubt that Pooh is loved by your wonderful sister with the final post. You have to understand that when I was told about the events on the phone I was and still am in the Arctic. I am a writer but not always of facts. I had not seen any photos of Pooh when the initial post was written. I without a doubt took a great deal of creative liberties while writing the story. It is clear that Pooh is well cared for because she is 15 years old. At the time the vet thought she was about 8 years old. this is a testament to the care she received from Tess. It is very impressive.If you like I can post your comment on the blog site but only with your permission.

Randy J. Cole

Melodie, I should also mention that when I wrote the first entry, it was really a depiction of the plight of all dogs in general that find them selves alone and almost reads like a poem. Most of the stuff I write for my blog and other projects are from first hand experience except my historical references such as Lincolns Rain. I really had no idea at that moment that I would contact KREM News but it was something that occurred to me after the fact. Anyway I am glad that it turned out the way it did.

Randy J. Cole

Annie to Pooh

2008-08-08T18:10:00.000-07:00

E-mail I received from Lindy today August 8th Friday:

Ok, so here is the story and the pictures. I called the vet tech at home last night to get some ideas on how to get Annie to eat it was then that she told me that a woman had come to the clinic after the news report and said that Annie was her dog. The clinic told her that she was in a safe spot for the night and to come back tomorrow when I was already scheduled to bring her in for a check up at 10:00 She showed up at 7:00 and brought in the flyer that she had circulating around all the local vet's clinics but Wandermere becasue of the location she didn't realize it was there. So the vet called this morning saying that she was indeed the owner and that they told her to come back at 10:00 when I was scheduled to bring her in. I new that she would be there early so I decided to show up a little earlier as well. I new as soon as I parked that she was the one waiting in the clinics waiting room. SHe looked anxiously as I opened the car door and as soon as I got Annie out her eyes perked up and started to cry. Once Annie saw her owner she transformed into a completely different dog!! Once they made contact Annie jumped into her owner, Tess's lap and kissed her on the face and cuddled as close as she could to her. It was then that we found out her story. Her real name is Pooh and I think that Tess said her granddaughter named her. She is 15 years old and has been with Tess since she was born (in her house). She is always at Tess's feet except for the Monday that I found her. She couldn't find her and she immediately began looking and sending out flyers in desperate search of her. Tess belives that a pack of coyotees plucked her from her yard becasue it is not in her nature to go far from her at all. Tess thanked me over and over and we hugged and cried together and then she offered for me to stay for the vet's visit but I just couldn't I left at that point closing this small little chapeter in my life. I will miss "Annie" very much but deep down I knew that she would not be ours for long. She had an owner that she was desperatly looking for and we all could sense that. When she was at my parents for the night she was always on a mad search for something so now that she has found it I can rest easily and be happy that she is where she needs to be and healing in loving arms. My parents tried deperately to connect with her but she had other plans. Just so everyone knows her eyes are no longer sad!! They are full of life! I am trying to scan the flyer so look for that in a couple of minutes. Thanks again for all the work you have done in getting Pooh back to her owner.

Photo: Tess and Pooh (Annie)after being reunited at the Wandermere Animal Hospital, Friday morning August 8th.

E-mail received from Tess and Pooh, today August 8th Friday:

Hello,
My name is Tess and I am the friend Pooh (Annie) has lived with the whole 15 years of her life. She is a faithful, happy, loving friend who I have been missing since Monday. I have been searching for her every day with the help of my friend Kim. I had flyers out, but I missed the Wandermere Animal Hospital. I now know it is there. I was going door-to-door with flyers when the Krem 2 story aired. I was invited into one of the houses I went to and they told me they had just seen my Pooh on the news! I cannot even describe what I felt when I heard that. I drove to the Wandermere Animal Hospital immediately, but I arrived after 6:00 p.m. I had to wait until the next morning to bring my baby home. I was unable to watch the story on the internet because I needed to update my flashplayer. That website was down. My friend Kim tried playing it for me over the phone. Another friend, Donna, told me the lady who had rescued my baby had taken her home. I was devastated. I did not know when I would see her again. The wait was long and painful, as I know hers was too. We are very close. She is always at my side. There has been such a void since she has been gone. I owe so much to all who helped my baby. There is no way to thank everyone enough. That void in my heart has been filled again. I truly believe in the power of prayer. I have been praying for God to please lead me to Pooh. My prayer was answered when some wonderful people saw the story on Krem 2.

As a result of this experience, my friend Kim and I are going to start a website for lost and found animals. We need a place that links everything together and makes it easier to find lost friends. Also as a result of this experience, Pooh will be getting a chip. She is forever losing her tags...

I am attaching a few pictures (I could fill pages and pages...). Please feel free to use any or all on your blog. And thank you so much for your part in bringing my baby home.

Pooh's friend,
Tess

Annie's saga continues

2008-08-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

Check back soon! An unbelievable end to the Annie saga is at hand. I am just waiting for the photos to arrive. My faith in the Universe and the powers that be, grow stronger with every moment!
The rest of the story is coming soon.

Annie Update / Krem 2 News

2008-08-07T23:24:00.000-07:00

Things are looking up for Annie but everyone who sees her says she looks like she is looking for someone. It makes you wonder if maybe she was left behind by her owners by accident or maybe on purpose. We will see how it all turns out in the end. Thank you everyone for your thoughts and prayers.
Below is the link to the KREM News report that was aired today.

Randy

http://www.krem.com/video/featured-index.html?nvid=270956

Annie's Saviors

2008-08-06T15:06:00.000-07:00

The escape came at a cost, but I am alive.
The taste of my blood sours my stomach and reminds me of where I came from.
Oh how I wish to be back nuzzling close to my brood with mother licking these wounds that run so deep.
It was so long ago, but at this moment it brings me comfort to think of her loving breath as she cleaned my face.
Oh I hurt, but if only to make it to the side of the road. Perhaps a human will grant me my wish for survival.
I want to live but I am not sure why. I look at my unkempt fur and feel this thing around my neck that once held my identity.
The tags long since gone as are the praising words of the child who once fed me.
As the pain grips my body, the pain centered in my heart is the worst.
I, once loved, now encouraged to keep my distance from humans. Tormented by thrown rocks and stinging words.
Where are the saviors, as these cars pass by?
If I rest, the coyote will surly find me.
Please, I do not wish to become food for the wild animals. I should not be a part of that equation.
I wish to be praised and touched by a loving hand once again.
Have mercy or I shall perish.
My legs shake as she approached. Reaching out telling me it was going to be OK.
I cannot help but to lay on my side preparing to be struck, but the stroke to my head and the words told me I was wrong. A savior, a savior at last!!!!

August 4th, 11:00 a.m. Lindy Terry, of Spokane, WA noticed a small red haired animal stumbling near a busy roadway on the north side of Spokane. The first impression was that it was a coyote which are known to frequent the wooded areas that surround Spokane. As she got closer it became clear that the animal was in fact a small dog, bleeding from several wounds. The dog was disoriented and obviously in a great deal of pain. Lindy pulled her car to the side of the road and attempted to make a rescue. The animal after surviving the attack of what is believed to have been a coyote, was not yet ready to surrender to helping hands and eluded Lindy’s attempts to catch her. Two other vehicles joined the rescue attempt and thanks to the fast actions of an unidentified young man with good intentions, the little dog was safely placed into Lindy’s vehicle. The animal laid on the front seat of the car bleeding and confused and so exhausted, unable to enact any more fight or flight response. The air conditioner surrounded her with cool comfort while being driven to the Wandermere Animal Hospital, in North Spokane. As soon as Lindy arrived with her patient, the staff of Wandermere took immediate action and the process of saving this little strangers life began. According to Lindy, the staff treated Annie with the utmost respect and care. The little girl that had looked as though she been on the streets for sometime was now receiving medical treatment mixed with real love. Oddly the staff started to call her Grandma Annie because of her advanced age for a dog, believed to be about eight years, before Lindy decided that Annie was an appropriate name because of her status in life as well as the red hair. Strange how those things work out. Staff members were surprised when Lindy told them of her choice for a name.

I called Wandermere Animal Hospital a short time ago, Wednesday at about 12:15 p.m. Spokane time to check on Annie’s status. A very kind young lady answered and said that Annie appeared to be perking up a bit. This was after a tough night and morning. I will keep you informed on Annie’s status as things develop.

If you are a religious person, then a prayer would be nice. If you are just nice person then happy thoughts would suffice. I am sure in any event that donations would be accepted to help offset the cost of Annie’s care. Supplied is the web site address for, Wandermere Animal Hospital.

http://www.wandermereanimalhospital.com/837496.html

If you would like to contact me with comments but do not belong to the Blogger community please do so by writing me at polarbear59923@yahoo.com

Randy J. Cole

Wrapped Around Your Finger

2008-08-03T23:23:00.000-07:00

I had been out of the hospital for a short time and the pain was still significant in the upper abdomen. It was the first body part that I had lost since the removal of my foreskin shortly after my birth. Thinking about it, if at my age I was to have a choice of having my foreskin removed or my gallbladder I would go with the gallbladder. I hated the removal of my gallbladder, but just the thought of the other one really gets to me.
My wonderful girlfriend spent the night in the hospital with me; this was big because she has a very strong dislike of hospitals. It was comforting knowing that she had made the sacrifice on my behalf.
Chaniya’s stay had been really wonderful and we decided that we got along very well as a couple. The hospital stay was the closing deal. I loved her and she loved me. The only thing that gave us both a worry was our financial situation. I had a huge mortgage, child support, and cost of everyday living and some bad investments on my part. Not a great start but we were convinced that we would overcome. Now looking at the mystery of hospital bills that may not be covered by my insurance, it was worth the risk and we decided to take it.
The darkness of the place consumed the would be shadows of a couple seated near the fireplace. The sound of others immersed in their own conversations about life in Libby, Montana. The place is called The MK Steakhouse just out of town. It has been a fixture in our community for many years and is what you would expect from an upper crust steakhouse in a small town. Blue jeans and no ties, well once and a while, maybe a tie. This is a place that means a lot to me. Built by the guy, Ed Lewis, or better known as, The Montana Kid, who was the original trainer for the television horses, Flicka and Fury. It is also the place where I was seated enjoying a fillet minion with my ex-wife. As I shoved a big tender piece of meat into my face, a beautiful blond with the lowest cut blue jeans I have ever seen stopped and looked at the cut of beef on my plate and said, “My gosh, that looks really good.” I answered, but I am sure she did not understand what I had said, how embarrassing. The blond was Hollywood party girl, Tara Reid. She was in town filming a independent film at one of our local lakes.
But on the night that I sat with Chaniya, I forgot about the other times I spent in the MK. I was focused on the black haired Asian beauty that sat across from me. A small basket of dark bread had been served to our table. The bread had been accompanied by little blocks of butter, wrapped in gold foil. Before the dinner course could be served I made my move. In the darkness I dropped to one of my knees before this woman that I loved. The words came out clear, “Chaniya, I love you and I would very much like you to be my wife.” I took her long beautiful fingers and singled out the ring finger on her left hand. As she smiled and said yes, I carefully guided the gold ring fashioned out of the foil from a Medowgold butter chunk smoothly over the first joint and the second as if it had been made for her finger. It also could have been the butter. We laughed about it at the time as she made adjustments to its imperfect shape.
I can only speak for myself, although I am sure that Chaniya would agree, when I say that the silly little foil ring fashioned from a cover for a stick of butter, means more to us then any other material possession that we hold. It is a true symbol of a love that is real and the day by day struggles we need to overcome and even more importantly the ones behind us.
I am sure in my heart, that one day; I will leave her alone on this earth. I have an image of Chaniya many years after I am gone preparing for her own journey. She will reach into a special place and remove the yellowed little box. She will explain to her daughter the importance of the gold foil ring. Her daughter will understand and Chaniya will carry it with her on her journey. In that respect, Chaniya and I are the richest people on this earth.

Honey I love you!
Randy

Images by Chaniya Ninbanphot Cole

Thoughts

2008-08-03T12:17:00.000-07:00

I love candid shots. This one, taken back in 2005, means a great deal to me. My grandson looks on as a video plays in the visitor’s area, under the Lincoln Memorial. The video that was playing was Martin Luther Kings great speech, “I have a Dream,” which took place on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, just above where we were standing. My Grandson has experienced the dislike and contempt from ignorant people that pass judgment on others because of the color of their skin. What a shame!

Randy J. Cole

The Blind

2008-08-03T12:05:00.000-07:00

Somebody's Mama Died Last Night

2008-07-31T22:20:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this blog for the first time, may I suggest that you read parts I,II,and III of the Sand Box series first. Enjoy and come back.

Randy J. Cole

Prior to the days of 911-enhanced emergency phone systems, law enforcement and other emergency services had to rely on the abilities of call takers to pry basic information from those in need. Not an easy task considering it is damn near impossible to remember what your address, and at times, even your name is when the shit is hitting the fan. I know, because as an officer, I have experienced it myself. Prior to my becoming an officer, before radio communication was common place, many small communities throughout the country used a simple light on a pole located somewhere in the city. The officer would notice when the light was on and stop by the office where the call taker had written down the information given by the caller. That would make Mayberry a pretty darn modern department in the early sixties considering they had radio communications.

This story takes place in a time when Stevens County had radios, but 911 had not made it to our corner of the world yet. It was important that the call taker/dispatcher could dispatch officers, as well as other emergency services, to the location where they were needed. On this cool summer night, I was the only officer on duty for the City of Colville. It was shaping up to be a rather dull night of door shaking and an occasional barking dog type of shift. You’re bored out of your mind, but when the night is over you are relieved that nothing requiring paperwork had happened.

The call came into the Stevens County Sheriff’s Office dispatch center at about three a.m. An elderly woman told the call taker/dispatcher that she was having pains caused from a hernia for which she was being treated. She was able to tell the dispatcher her address and only wanted him to call her son. She could not say what her son’s name was and seemed to be disorientated. Unable to get more information from the caller, the dispatcher asked me to respond to the address and see if I could make contact with the caller. I found the address to be that of a modest, small, neat one-story house located about two blocks from the sheriff’s office. It was also located the same distance from the ambulance parking facility across the street from the sheriff’s office. The ambulance personnel were and still are dedicated volunteers, the same as most small communities throughout the country. The ambulance facility had sleeping quarters, but those on-call could stay at their own homes provided they lived within the city limits of Colville. They would be notified of an ambulance run by a paging system which in no way resembles the pagers of today. As I recall, they were very large boxes that would be placed in one’s home when they were on-call.
The dispatcher kept the caller on the phone and told her that I was at her residence. She responded with, “All I want is for you to call my son”, but yet could not or would not give any information as to who her son might be. She did tell the dispatcher that she was not able to get to the door to unlock it and this information was passed on to me. I walked around to the side of the house and found a light on in what appeared to be a bedroom. The bottom of the window was about five feet from the ground and open about three inches and was also covered with a screen. There she sat on her bed talking to the dispatcher and I made my presence known. At this point, it was not clear that a major medical problem existed, however based on the fact that she could not get off the bed, it was best that we page out the ambulance crew. At about this point, I observed the woman fall back on her bed and passed this information on to the dispatcher. I was able to pry the screen from the window. Fortunately, the window was not locked in place and I quickly slid it open as far as I could. I pulled myself into the open window, a task which would be impossible today. As I slithered my top half into the room, the window, without warning, slammed down on my waist and managed to key my portable radio which was attached to my side. Panic ruled the moment as the unresponsive woman lay on the bed to my left. It was obvious she was not breathing. I was forced to become a circus performer, all the while cussing a blue streak which, unfortunately, could be heard by other law enforcement units throughout the county. I am sure that many of the local citizens who had police scanners sat straight up in bed wondering if they had heard the nice policeman correctly. Somehow I managed to get my right elbow to the window and slid it open to the point where I could roll onto the floor. If the woman was having an out-of-body experience looking down at the scene, I am sure I looked like a monkey humping a football. Everything fell out of my pockets and my gun belt also popped off as if spring-loaded. I jumped to my feet with my radio and advised dispatch that the woman had no pulse and no respiration. I began CPR, as I had been trained, knowing that the ambulance would soon be arriving.
A police officer doing any type of emergency first aid in those days of the early eighties, usually did them without the benefit of any type of protection. Mouth-to-mouth meant just that. People need to be thankful for the developments that have taken place within the last five years such as the advent of the Automatic External Defibrillator or AED. Most small law enforcement agencies carry these in their patrol vehicles. Thousands of lives have been saved with this technology. God how I wish it would have been around back then.
In an effort to keep me informed, the dispatcher advised me that the paging system appeared to be down and that he was attempting to place phone calls to the ambulance crew on-call. These were not the words that I wanted to hear. All I wanted was the sound of the wailing sirens and the flash of red lights bouncing off the light-colored walls and more strength. I provided CPR for seventeen minutes before the ambulance rolled to the front of the house. The crew rushed in and took over the responsibilities of pumping this stranger’s heart and providing the necessary air to her lungs. I collapsed in the corner as if I had just gone fourteen rounds with a heavy- weight boxer. Death is a foe that does not give in to defeat easily. This woman, who had been struck down by what appeared to be a massive heart attack, was loaded into the ambulance and transported to the hospital. I was a total mess and because of the amount of sweat that had drenched my uniform, I went home and changed clothes.
It was about six in the morning before I made my way to the hospital to check on the status of the patient. I was met at the emergency ward entrance by one of the ambulance attendants, who also happened to be my sergeant at the police department. He was very calm as he told me that the lady had passed away and that I had done everything possible. The sun was coming up and it looked as though it would be a beautiful day. My Sergeant looked at me and said, “I need you to do something now. I need you to deliver a death message”. I responded with, “I think I can handle that boss, just tell me where”. He looked a bit surprised as I said that. He removed the pipe from his mouth and said, “You need to tell the chief that his mother just passed away”. I was stunned. I had no idea that the woman who was asking for her son was referring to the chief, my boss. When I arrived at his house, he was in good spirits and family was there as well, visiting from out of town. I broke the news to him and his response was as to be expected by a son who loses the mother who gave him life.
This story doesn’t have a happy ending, but then again, life itself can be painful and all of us experience this type of loss. Police officers are no different and many of those we serve think that we shouldn’t have the right to a bad day. This is a good time to remind the reader that law enforcement officers bleed on the outside as well as the inside, just like everyone else.

Some Color for the Page

2008-07-30T13:00:00.001-07:00

I decided that maybe a little color from the slope might be nice. This little batch of flowers are loctated in the parking lot area of the Alaska Airlines termanal in Deadhorse. This is the airport that serves passengers traveling to the North Slope of Alaska. These are known as, "River Beauty."

Little closer view for you flower lovers.

Anytime Now

2008-07-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

While going through some older photos, 2003 , I found this one of a goofy little dog we once had. Peter Parker was his name and he was a character. He would get up on the sofa 15 minutes before the kids would arrive home from school and stand watch. One of his flaws was that he thought he was flawless. He found out he wasn't when he was ran over in front of some of my kids, by a big truck. I was of course on the slope at the time, so my then wife, Julie, had to deal with the aftermath.

I still miss him!

Somebody Slap Me

2008-07-25T21:25:00.000-07:00

In Sandbox one and two, I gave you an idea about my life when I was just a kid, playing my life out in a sandbox. The continuing stories will be about some of the unusual true life events that took place long after the sandbox was gone and after the badge became a part of my life. I hope you enjoy reading them.

A good dream, as well as a bad one, can leave an impression on you like a song that you just can’t clear from your mind. Early on in my career, I had one of those dreams, actually, more of a nightmare. It was so realistic that I sat straight up in bed and realized that I was soaked with sweat. At least I hope it was sweat.

The dream put me behind the wheel of my patrol car while I was working the graveyard shift. I can still see it like it was yesterday. In this dream, I was driving slowly on Colville’s main street and as I went past a sporting goods store on my right, I heard the tell-tale sound of my tires rolling over broken glass. I could even see small shards reflecting the light from my headlights like an early morning layer of snow. I aimed my spotlight at the front of the sporting goods store and saw large, jagged holes in the picture windows that lined the front of the building. The sidewalk was covered with glass as well and it was apparent that the holes had been created by a large caliber weapon from the inside out. I bent my right arm at the elbow and my hand wrapped around the pistol grip of the jet black, Hi Standard Model 10 semi-auto shotgun, which was stored in an upright, locked position just to my right. Once the release button was pushed, it fell into my arm like an old friend. It was my favorite weapon while I was with the Colville Police Department. I pulled my patrol car past the end of the building, stepped out of my car and took a position at the front corner of the store. Things slowed down to a movie dream sequence as I looked across the street toward a restaurant that was located about a half-block away. Standing in the doorway was a man yelling, “He’s in here, he’s in here”, all the while beckoning me with his arm. I left my position and walked in slow motion across the street. The man who had beckoned me was no where to be found. I entered the doorway and pulled the door open. A white flash, an explosion, and I was wide awake fighting to get the sheets off. My wife turned on the light, looked at me, and wondered if she should run. I was bothered by the realism of this dream and was unable to sleep the rest of the day.

When I went to work that afternoon, I shared the dream with another officer, who had been my trusted field training officer and always a good person to talk to. He listened patiently, but being a man of few words I don’t recall him commenting on my experience.
It was the middle of the week and I was well into my graveyard shift. It was a cool, summer night and the town appeared to be quiet. It was about one-thirty in the morning when dispatch told me that they had received a strange phone call from an unidentified man. He had said that he was involved in a minor car accident in an alley behind some businesses located on Colville’s main street. I responded from the other side of town. A Stevens County deputy called me on the radio. He said he was in the area and would assist me. The deputy arrived moments before me and I turned into the alley about a half-block behind him. I could see him moving forward checking the buildings to his left with his spotlight. He was adjacent to the sporting goods store when his brake lights briefly came on and then his backup lights. I looked on curiously as his big green and white cruiser accelerated so fast that the rear end began to bounce as it tried to keep up with the command of the deputy’s right foot. I slapped my transmission into reverse and did the same thing, but other than trying to avoid being hit, I wasn’t sure why. The deputy was yelling on his radio, but since we were so close, I wasn’t able to understand him until I cleared the alley and slid sideways into the street. The deputy stopped in the alley after turning his car sideways. “There’s a man with a shotgun at the back of the sports shop and he aimed it at my head. Take the front!” I heard that loud and clear and it wasn’t until I was turning the last corner and traveling up the main street of Colville that I started to recall the dream of a few nights before. I turned off my headlights, but in the dull light of the surrounding street lights, I could see the glimmer of shattered glass on the roadway. The sound of it being crushed under my tires as I drove past was unmistakable and I began to sweat.

I pulled my car to the curb and hit the release on my 12-gauge friend. It fell into my right arm just as it had in my dream. I took my position and waited for off-duty officers to arrive. Jim, the officer I had shared my unusual dream with just a few nights before, arrived and surveyed the numerous holes in the front window of the sporting goods shop. He and another senior officer went inside the building to search for suspects. Moments after they completed the building search, the sound of someone yelling caught my attention. It was a man standing in the doorway of the restaurant located down the street, just as it had played out in my dream. I was scared at this point and really, who wouldn’t be? The other two officers came out and looked at the man who was still beckoning us to the front door of the establishment. The three of us walked to the entrance. Jim, looking a bit spooked, instructed me not to go through the doorway, so I covered the entrance from the corner near the alley. This allowed me to watch the front door as well as the exit to the alley. The other two officers went through the front door and a short time later exited to the alley. The suspect had left the back way before our arrival. I was relieved that he had left the building and that the grip of the dream had been released.

The moments of relief were short-lived as the dispatcher advised that a woman had called in a panic stating that a man had just broken down the back door of her house. The specific address of the incident was given as the 700 block of Pine Street. I did say specific, but to me it didn’t matter as my house was located at 710 Pine Street, but I was so full of fear that I had forgotten my own address. All I could envision was that the person who had killed me in my dream would fulfill his obligation by harming my family instead. I drove like a mad man to get to my house, rules no longer applied. I turned my patrol car onto Pine Street to find the two senior officers standing in the middle of the road with the suspect. He had given up without a fight after being chased out of my next door neighbor’s house at gun point. Thank God it wasn’t my house and that no one was hurt.

The caller who had reported the accident earlier in the evening had been identified and was taken to the police department for questioning. He said that he had been riding around with the suspect all night and they had indulged in alcohol as well as other stimulants. The suspect, who was the driver of the 1970 green Ford Maverick, became paranoid and felt he needed to acquire a weapon. Although he couldn’t see straight, he somehow managed to travel down the alley behind the sporting good store at a high rate of speed. He almost made a ninety-degree left turn, crashing through two double freight doors at the back of the building. The doors simply closed behind the vehicle and without close examination you never would have known it was inside. The amazing thing was that the Maverick had less than a half-inch clearance on either side. The passenger ran from the scene not knowing what his buddy was going to do and decided to report a minor traffic accident. The only reason the deputy had not been shot that night was because the cocking mechanism on the shotgun had been damaged by the suspect while he was blowing holes in the front of the building.

Needless to say, that night proved to be one of the most exciting nights I had ever had during my 19 years as a cop – and also one of the strangest.