At the Broken-Winged Pelican Bar

The other day, when I was just a wee-bit younger than I usually admit to, I found myself on Homer Spit, a narrow piece of land extending into Kachemak Bay. That is in Alaska, if you didn’t know it, and I won’t take offense if you ask me a time or two more, where exactly this story takes place, because it doesn’t take very much energy at all to say….Alaska!

I’d been running some pipe in the basement of a nearby house, when a powerful thirst came over me. I took my pipe-wrench, yes the Alaskan Variety, and tightened thing extra good, so my small break didn’t lead to a flood of Biblical Proportions, which might just cause the locals, known as “Homerites” to place me on the first bus to, well let’s just say, Canada. All right?

The entrance to the Bar, known as the Broken-Winged Pelican, was watched over by a local woman, who claimed to be born a Homerite, but only if she was drunk, while arm-wrestling/threatening to shoot the first person who agreed with that statement! My only wish concerned my whistle, which needed wetting in an awful way, but not all wishes come true, especially when people named Lola Kenai operate as the door-bouncer at that moment in time!

I just sauntered along, tipping my hat at the ladies on the street, enjoying a view that encompassed the many businesses, and bars along this stretch of the road. Oh, I admit to being a regular at the Salty Dawg Saloon nearby, but it might just be that the beer at this Pelican Bar tasted a bit better, or was it just that I wanted to taste something else, what was now blocking my entry into this establishment, somewhere close to the shrinking metropolis known as Homer Alaska.

Later on that same day, I would wonder if it hadn’t been better eating a doughnut, or ogling discreetly the many and varied flavors of Alaskan Women that strolled nearby? Homer Spit had become a sort of picture-window, with its many temptations and delights, but I was lacking as usual, the means and opportunity of enjoying them, then waking with a smile on my face, a bottle in the one hand, with the other….well, you get the picture, don’t you?

I considered waiting until a crowd of thirsty patrons developed outside the bar, allowing me to blend into the local color, but it seemed as if they had decided to flock at some other broken-winged bar nearby, leaving me standing there, almost naked in my thoughts, while Lola stood in the doorway, wondering if it was time for her afternoon smoke, a local favorite, an Augustine cigarette?

“Light Ma’am” I ventured to ask, while slapping my pockets for something to light the fire in her cold, cold heart, while she just looked at me saying, “I don’t smoke ’em, I just like the feel of them between my lips!” Well. I must say, and a few other thoughts that rolled around in my head at that statement, but it still didn’t allow me entry, that is access, into her guarded sanctuary, while that thirst still was drying in my mouth, and the pipes were perhaps bursting in the basement, of what might be my last paying job on Homer Spit?

I decided just to walk in casually, while commenting on something that would just slide by her air of indifference, allowing me to…

“Just what do you think, you are doing?” a question, to which most people, who had money in their pockets, and a thirsty-look on their faces, wouldn’t need to explain, but Lola wasn’t one to take lip from just any man, woman, or broken-winged Pelican! I placed my hat in my hands, while trying to smooth out my hat-hair as good as possible, before saying, “Well. Seeing as how this is a bar, and seeing as how I had this powerful thirst, and seeing as how my admiration for women who would deny me the fulfillment of connecting the two things, I thought…..”

What was it I thought? Standing this close to her, with her being able to reach out and kill me with one blow, or me being able to kiss her, by falling under her temptations, was something that I hadn’t considered happening, just one half hour before, while the pipes were dripping, telling me that minus in my bank-account wasn’t getting its needs attended to, if I chose to wet my aforementioned whistle, and get my jollies at someone elses expense!

She might have helped me out just a bit by saying, “Well, what are you going to do now?” said while uncrossing her arms, telling me by use of her body-language, that I might just be tasting something sweet and pleasing while the crowds of tourists outside, ate doughnuts, and put their dollar-bills on the walls of the Salty Dawg Saloon!

She did manage to pull me close to whisper, “This is the first time, we’ve met, so I’ll be easy on you!”

That line should be the one that I’d be telling our grandchildren someday, when they asked how we first met, or it could be the one that I’d be explaining at the hospital, or police-station, after just another altercation with the local population by some wayward tradesman, who should have kept his pipe in his pants…..

-But that story will have to be told another time, I guess? At least when it all becomes clear in my mind, about exactly what happened on that most fateful day, somewhere in Alaska…..

*……An Alternative Lola Story…..*

My adventures of Lola & Co. are going to hibernate for the time being, so I won’t be posting for a while. I’ll still be writing, but you won’t get to read it, until I figure out if blogging is still something I want to do, or is it really worth continuing with exposing my imagination to the general public?

——- only time will tell…..



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Don’t.Won’t.Never Gonna Do.

A fellow blogger claims not to do photos on her blog, but she did, even when she didn’t, and at least twice, though it wasn’t never gonna happen. Not ever, but then…

Not being in Alaska, I won’t be doing pictures, not having, nor possessing, nor asking others to supply me with, what I wouldn’t be doing anyway!

So with that not said, and not admitting to not doing it before, now or ever again, I’ll just include a few non-photos of Aalborg, Denmark this early-December 2018.

Don’t ask, or plead with me to do so again, because I didn’t, wouldn’t want to not do so in the first place, which this will be, but not in the second place, which would qualify for making me into a teller of non-truths, which I would admit to doing, then deny any knowledge thereof!

Immediately north of the Town Square. Downtown Aalborg. December 2018
Nytorv. The town square. Aalborg December 2018
South of Nytorv 845am. December 2018
Jens Bangs Stenhus from 1624 amid delivery trucks in Downtown Aalborg.
A city bus decorated with paper cutouts made by local children.
Christmas Decorations in bus windows


That was not it, or was it the end of this blog, if you wondered when this typical non-photo blog was at its end. Like it now is…..

Halibut Tacos. Just like Mom used to make…

I was living the good life here in Alaska. At least, I thought I was? Me and my old lady lived Off the Grid on the Kenai Peninsula, where I thought we had the best life possible! But now, when I look in my life’s rear-view mirror, I guess, we weren’t exactly on the same wavelength so to say?

I had bought her one of those humorous bumper-stickers, “Anyone From Seattle Junior Can Eat My Dust”, which was to show those city people from Anchorage, how much we prided ourselves, and our lives on the Kenai Peninsula, not needing the glaring lights of the big city to satisfy our needs!

Well, I guess I ended up tasting some of that dust, when she packed her bags one day and roared away in our car, setting her sights on Anchorage and another kind life that she could sink her teeth into! I was left at our house, I used to call our home, wondering what went wrong, and was I really that dense, because I never even saw it coming?

I purchased an older car, whose days were most likely numbered, but beggars can’t be choosers, now can they? Needing supplies, I tooled down the Sterling Highway towards Homer, the only real town of mention on this side of the Kenai Peninsula. I ended up rolling into town on the fumes left in the tank, stopping just short of the first, or last filling station, depending on whether you were coming or going to heaven on earth, or what was that really what folks thought about Homer Alaska?

My extra gas can unfortunately, was bouncing around in the back of my good car, somewhere in Anchorage, while I hoofed it over to the office of the nearby Conoco Gas Station and Car Wash, hoping that someone was there with an extra gas can, and not just a threatening shout, “Leave now or feel the bite of my lead!”

It was a bit on the dark side, but what can you expect on a December day, this side of the winter solstice? I did manage to see the dinosaur on the roof, welcoming me in such a way that I didn’t turn tail and run, not immediately, that is. Inside the office burned a light over in one corner, making me hope that it was warmer inside than the low 20s outside where my thoughts were freezing to ice, and my hands followed suit?

I gave a casual knock on the door, while I waited to run for my life, if needed, when the door opened suddenly, producing a pair of hands that drew me into the darkness and ensuing warmth. “Are you packing heat?” – a question, which made me wonder just what I should “be packing” or if that answer would get me a can of gas, or a one-way trip to the hospital in beautiful downtown Homer?

Apparently, I wasn’t deemed a threat to anyone, but that someone pushed me into a nearby chair and shined a light in my face. “What brings you to the outskirts of civilization?” said a voice which reminded me of  flowers in the Alaskan Springtime, just those that had wilted a bit, lacking some TLC and perhaps a bit of, of….Now what was I doing here in the first place, I asked myself, but that wouldn’t be the last time, I’d ask myself that question?

“Just out joyriding, or something?” she asked me, but since I didn’t have a car on or about me, how in the world could she guess that I had one anyway?

I replied, “Ran out of gas over yonder” said while motioning towards the window, in the direction of where I thought I had left the old gal?”

“No sudden movements, got it?”

Well, Actually I did get it, and moving my arm back into its former position, I wrapped my jacket a bit more about me, while I wondered if I would be seeing the sunrise tomorrow, or was that just wishful thinking in December anyway?

“My father left me this filling station” she started to say, while I just nodded in silent acknowledgement.

“Left me here in this God-Forsaken corner of Alaska, while he was chasing his good fortune, somewhere along the Alaskan Pipeline, or was it only because of a woman named Clear, that turned his head as well?”

I just felt the place on my finger, where my ring used to sit, as if it were some sort of consolation, sitting somewhere in that darkened room while an unknown person was talking to me, as if I actually had asked about her life story, as it were?

She looked a bit closer at me and said, “Haven’t you been in Homer before?”asking as if that might not be a good thing to admit to, or was I just being paranoid about it?

“Oh”, I said slowly. “We, I mean I, have been here before, but not since, uh, well…..”

“Uh huh”, she said as she got up and started rummaging around in the refrigerator next to her, then lighting the gas stove with its characteristic blue flame and tempting warmth. “I suggest, while you contemplate just why you stumbled into my life, that we enjoy a meal together, seeing as how you don’t have anyone missing you back, where you’d like to call home!”

She was reading me like a dusty Tourist Guide to Homer Alaska, and without the Spanish translation as well! We sat across from one another while I set the table, and she made something that smelled heavenly on the stove. After a while I tempted fate and took off my jacket, while she lit a candle or two, and actually started to hum a tune or two as she cooked.

“This recipe” she drawled with her lovely Southern Alaskan dialect, “was one of the only things I got from my mother, before she ran off with that conniving Cannabis Grower from Valdez!” I nodded a bit, not knowing just what to add to that statement, but enjoying myself more than I had done so in a month of Sundays!

“Halibut Tacos”, she said upon serving the steaming repast, “Just like Mom used to make!”

I proposed a toast to the memory of her mother, while her eyes sparkled, and glistened like powder snow on Mt Denali!

I ended up sitting next to her on her sofa, while my car had all but giving up hope of seeing me again tonight. The lingering smells of those Tacos, mixed with her perfume, “Denali Blue Mist” were two things that remained in my mind, while we talked about our lives, and how we both ended up in that filling station with the characteristic dinosaur on the roof, while the rest of Alaska took care of itself.

She was about to fall asleep, when it suddenly dawned on me that I still didn’t know her name?

“Lola” she said, while drifting off into dreamland. “Lola Kenai.”

I too took a drive into that same, dream landscape, hoping that I wouldn’t be running out of “Lola-Fuel” anytime soon……..

Not as long as there was that comforting dinosaur on the roof, anyway…..

*……….Alternative Lola Story……….*