Toddlin' Town for Theatre

Last month I saw a wonderful MACBETH; this week a rocky, excellent DESIRE UNDER THE ELMS. The phrase "Second City" is not heard as often about Chicago anymore, and of course Manhattan with its Broadway district is the most outstanding theatre area in the United States. But Chicago is certainly the runner-up as it hosts road companies, establishes touring success, and hosts outstanding resident companies. On the north side, the famed Steppenwolf Theatre still attracts large audiences, but the downtown jewels are the Goodman and the Chicago Shakespeare.

About a mile and three-quarters separates the two locations, one in the well-known loop and the other extending out into Lake Michigan. Each building is housed in historical buildings, Navy Pier being historic in its own right. The Goodman remodeled the former Harris and Selwyn Theatres and managed to reuse these wonderful stages after a period of time of disuse. In moving here less than twenty years ago, the Goodman left a location on the east side of the famed Art Institute of Chicago, opening up space for the new Modern Wing, opening in May.

While it was interesting enough moving from MACBETH to the ELMS over a period of four weeks, I recall a juxtaposition during the fall of 2006. Ben Carlson, currently the title character in Macbeth, was starring as HAMLET on the pier. Stacy Keach was heading the cast of KING LEAR at the Goodman. And I saw the pair in the same week. The result? A poem:

FIFTY-EIGHT HOURS BETWEEN SHAKESPEARES

Fifty-eight hours from Elsinore to Lear’s corrupt court:
Thursday matinee spent with the antic disposition of Hamlet,
Saturday night spent watching the madness and downfall of Lear.

Lear cut a cake to award the geography of Britain to flatterers,
Stabbing the knife into the heart of the cake and the heart of Cordelia.
The rashness of Lear at eighty recalls of course the rashness of Romeo
At fifteen, nearly justifying the introspection of Hamlet at 30.

Gertrude Thursday was a sexual woman, a match to Goneril and Regan Saturday;
Lusting without question and each loving only herself,
While the suicidal Ophelia showed doomed beauty
And the naked body of Cordelia was an artist’s study in death.

Nearly ten minutes Saturday devoted to dragging dozens of body bags onto the stage,
Five minutes then set aside to dump the bags into the pit of hell in modern warfare.
The power of Shakespeare in tragedy is to show us how the gods kill us
For their sport … while the rest, of course, is silence.

DESIRE UNDER THE ELMS

Eugene O'Neill, perhaps the first great American dramatist, has been the focus of a series of presentations at the outstanding Goodman Theatre this winter. Several of his powerful scripts have been staged by various theatre groups, with the Goodman itself mounting DESIRE, the O'Neill attempt to Americanize Greek tragedy. Starring Brian Dennehy and now featuring Amy J. Carle, who had understudied Carla Gugino in the role of Abbie, the work is a fitting and appropriate work for a changeable Chicago winter.

Director Robert Falls apparently went back to the drawing board for this successful work, tossing out O'Neill's extensive stage directions and reinterpreting the setting and staging. Perhaps the most striking result was the decision to eliminate any elms, or any trees or anything else soft or gentle from the set. Instead, the work morphs into DESIRE AMONG THE ROCKS, with a mountain of giant boulders at least fifteen feet high dwarfing the characters and allowing them no place of refuge. Along with the rock mountain, other boulders hang from ropes, looming over the characters at every moment. For that matter, the Putnam house hangs from the rafters above the heads of these characters for many scenes, with the visual effect that everything in their world is ready to crush them all at a moment's notice.

Most of O'Neill's powerful works investigate the depths of pain and suffering that people inflict upon one another, and this script is no different. It allows fine actors the opportunity to live in the skins of these people, bellowing and crying, threatening and lying, living their meagre lives to get whatever tragic result that might be in store. Brian Dennehy, as expected, is a true stage star in the role of Efrem, doomed to self-inflicted loneliness among the rocks. Carle, a pleasant surprise in the role of Abbie, emits desperation in her every move to avoid that same loneliness. It is difficult to see how the acclaimed Gugino, away on a film promotion tour, could have done any better.

The work is one hundred minutes of pain, with much of the catharsis of the Greek tragedy for those of us who return to homes that are indeed and in fact places of refuge.

The Other Side of the Family Tree

Just one more restoration at this time, taking a moment to look at the other side of the family tree. My dear grandparents Angela & Louis, each depicted previously, were my mother's parents. My mother was an only child from Chicago, while my father was the eldest of six children from Philadelphia. It seems so logical that he would settle near her home, and I grew up a Chicago boy. I had time being fed and carted around Chicago by Angela and I was given Cubs baseball by Louis. Dad's parents were my vacation grandparents. The feeling was a loving one, but love from 800 miles away when a long-distance call was an unnecessary expense is difficult.

Vacations were wonderful, though. The hint was given above: five sets of aunts and uncles, and one of the aunts was only twelve years older than I was. Dad's eldest sister, on the other hand, was only a year younger than he, and my cousin Barbara was two weeks older than I was. Lots of fun on vacation, lots of picnics and side trips. My Uncle Tom, dad's brother-in-law, took me to a Phillies game. We saw Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, Betsy Ross' house, Benjamin Franklin's grave. For as few days as I spent in Philadelphia, it always seemed my second home.

The portrait of Ralph Sr. and Emma, which I was able to repair and soften as well as adding the sepia tone, is my favorite. It catches them at the time they were active and filled with laughter and enjoyment whenever we saw them. I recall that Grandmom made a wonderful spaghetti sauce and her smile always seemed to be intended just for me. I recall that Grandpop loved that spaghetti and constantly used a napkin to blot sweat from his brow while eating it. And I also recall that he did Woody Woodpecker's laugh as well as Walter Lantz, the originator of the voice. I pride myself on doing a good imitation of Grandpop doing a great imitation of Lantz.

Blessed with all four grandparents alive until I was twenty-eight years old; I would call that the greatest legacy of my family that was given to me and I treasure these memories. And I will always.

Another Restoration

I wrote so lovingly of my maternal grandmother Angela, and I feel fairness bids me to speak of her husband, Louis, my grandfather and one of the men most close to my heart.

A working man who spent years carrying boxes to load onto a delivery truck, Louis was the man who came home every night to eat the dinner Grandma had cooked because I liked it -- and he never complained. Quiet at times, highly introverted, this man shared his one interest with me. He was a baseball fan, a Cub fan actually, and we talked about them. Talked and talked about them. Listened on the radio and watched a bit on WGN. And in 1956, 1957 and 1958 he took me to Wrigley Field for eight games, memories I will always treasure. I assumed of course that he had seen the Cub pennant winners of the 30s and 40s. I found out in 1974 after he passed away that his love of baseball had been on the radio, never in the park. Never, until I wanted to go. That fact, more than anything else, remains with me nearly 35 years after his passing.

Louis loved Chicago, seen in the photo near Navy Pier, visible in the background. His willingness to be interested in what I loved, his willingness to take me to games I wanted to see, and his willingness to learn new things in a strange new world will keep him alive in my heart forever. And as I look back at the way Louis & Angela remain fresh and alive in my heart because of their unconditional love for me, I know they both taught me how to act in my most important role: they taught me how to be Poppa for my dear grandchildren. As such, they now touch the fourth generation in their posterity, and if I do this correctly, someday Louis & Angela will be touching the sixth generation. Who could ask for a better life than that?

Simpler Restoration

Excited with the success of restoring my grandmother's wonderful portrait, I turned to some other family photos that needed work, though far less-drastic work. This portrait, a nice triangle with my smiling face at the pivot, shows my Mother and Father back in the 1940s.

This image was in pretty good shape. Two corners were folded and damaged, but repairing corners is about as easy as anything in photo restoration. General dust, noise, and so forth is also pretty simple, and this one did not have too much. I worked around the edges, closing in on my face and Dad's coat and tie. One ugly crease went from Dad's collar, across the tie and the lapel of the jacket, and through my right cheek. A small portion was missing. Only about 25 minutes later, my cheek was healed and my young parents look vibrant. This is an uplifting work concept: work that yields immediate satisfaction is certainly work worth doing well.

Restoration as a Labor of Love

A true baby boomer born in late 1946, I have wonderful memories of my grandmother, the mother of my mother. Mom went back to work as a personal shopper at the fabled Marshall Field's and I spent all day with my Grandma. It has always seemed to me that she cared about me more than she cared about anyone (which may not be true but is a wonderful impression to have!) She passed away over 29 years ago and I still think of her lovingly and kindly just about every day.

When I came across the heirloom portrait, completely torn in half and carefully saved as it was, I knew that if I ever got confident in Photoshop, I would make a project out of restoring that photograph. It showed a woman I had never met, of course, young and slim and looking forward to the bulk of her life. Beautiful? Of course, I could never see anything other than beauty. And I wanted to have a complete portrait of her to cherish and to pass on to my children and grandchildren.

I put no time clock on the project. I spent as much time as I needed. And I was pleased to send complete matte-finish portraits to my son and my daughter and to my brother and my sister. I know that somehow, in heaven, my dear Grandma Angela has always known my love and respect for her. And now you know it too.

The Birds and the Bison

My vantage point for bison photography, north of the old barn on the Fermilab property, had me perhaps 25 yards from where the giant animals were feeding. Apparently at their noon meal, they paid little attention to me. After several minutes, one and then another of the bison began to move away from me and toward the south, where pens and another pasture area are located.

As they lumbered on their way, the pasture to the west, behind the bison as I watched them, was filled with thousands of geese, pecking the ground or standing still. At a moment, either triggered by the bison or coincidentally, they left. They all left. A cloud of geese, thousands of geese, squawking about being rousted, flew southeast in a cloud. Had they flown over my head, I would have felt like I was in the movie The Birds. An awesome sight.

Later, I saw some of the geese walking on water. Well, technically, walking on ice, but it sounds more dramatic the other way.

Our next post will take a different tack. Restoration of a photo of a dear loved one. A task filled with joy, coming soon.

JERSEY BOYS

Taking a moment away from Fermilab, where we will return tomorrow, I must catch up a bit on something I missed. For Valentine's Day, we went to see JERSEY BOYS, the energetic musical that narrates the tale of Frankie Valli and Bob Gaudio and the music of The Four Seasons.

Side note: I collect programs of plays I have seen and have more than 400 of them. For more than 25 years, I have kept a list of plays seen each year and have my own awards for best play, best actor and best actress. I taught literature and creative writing for nearly four decades and taught drama for ten years. End of side note.

There is a good possibility that JERSEY BOYS will win best play for the third consecutive year. The first, 2007, was the Broadway version with John Lloyd Young; the others were in Chicago with outstanding casts. This title ranks with FIDDLER ON THE ROOF as best musical ever and ranks up there with titles such as DEATH OF A SALESMAN (which I saw starring Dustin Hoffman) for best play of any kind. The music, the story, the acting: this work has it all.

We are currently beginning our plan for another visit, perhaps in Chicago in 2010, perhaps in Las Vegas if we head out that way. Oh What a Night!

Bison in Batavia

In the western suburbs of Chicago, Batavia to be specific, is a facility called the National Accelerator Laboratory, or Fermilab for short. For the past 25 years or so, scientists have been experimenting with speeding particles inside a ring-shaped laboratory miles long that is underground. Above it are buildings, many brightly painted, and a wonderful place to see birds, butterflies -- and bison. I went to see if it was worth a look through the eye of the Nikon and the answer was a resounding YES.

Along with prairie grass and savanna, water for geese and trees for deer, this bison herd makes for an excellent two hours of photo shooting -- or more. Yesterday, the air was cold and from the fence line I could see the breath of these tremendously powerful animals. I will certainly return, either in spring or fall, to see more of these majestic iconic American animals and the other attractions of the Fermilab.

Winter Continues

Years ago, my grandmother loved to visit Morton Arboretum. While it looked like a big park of some kind, I was more interested in parks with climbing structures and swings. Now I appreciate the beauty of the Outdoor Museum of Woody Plants, located only a mile from the high school I taught at for nearly four decades. Wonderful landscapes are in view at every time of the year there.

During the week after Christmas, I drove down to the Arboretum, built by the Morton family, so famous for salt. Arriving just before that blue hour, the time of the power of the sunset, I saw many trees, roads, snowy hillsides, walkers -- and one buck who seemed as interested in me as I was in him. Since I shot with a 300 mm telephoto lens, I was not close enough to scare him off. He was close enough to fascinate me.

Looking back through my winterscapes, it is clear that winter has its beauty as much as any other season. Good lesson to remember.

More winterscapes

With the Chicago weatherman tossing out scary stories of 6" or more of snow on Tuesday or Wednesday or whenever it gets around to it, a post of some snowy pictures seems to be in order. The snow-laden branches are in my yard; that is a burning bush. The snow-filled creek leads into Mallard Lake, a local forest preserve where dogs were allowed to run off-leash and lots of fishermen seem to have good luck.

Next post should have perhaps one more pair of winterscapes, coming soon.

Winterscapes

It was great fun for me to return to Alaska over several weeks to post photos and relive the great trip. Now, to head in another direction, my first thought was an earlier trip -- Manhattan? The Caribbean? Las Vegas? And certainly we will return to travel. But I wanted to move in a different direction for a while.

Landscape photography is a staple for all ages. Black-and-white, full color, film or digital, the photo that captures a place and records it for the future is a wonderful pastime or profession. As it is wintry February in Chicago, I thought I would post a few winterscapes to see if they remind viewers of places they have seen.

The black-and-white was taken in 1976 on color slide film and more recently digitized and reworked into the appropriate b&w. It was a small woods near my first house. The color image is actually from my yard on one of those icy days.

The next post will look at another pair of winterscapes. It might include a poem or two as well.

Vancouver Monday Morning

Arriving in Vancouver Harbor, we watched the sun glint off the skyline of a beautiful city early on a Monday morning. Debarkation is never an enjoyment; after all, vacation is over and this is a travel day. We got through the lines well enough, were loaded onto a bus, and taken out to the airport.

On the way through downtown, I mentioned that the streets were strangely empty at 9:00 AM. Only when we were in the Customs line at the airport did we discover that it was a major holiday in Vancouver, and no one was at work unless they worked at the airport. It was a pleasure to go through U.S. Customs in the Vancouver airport. That's right, the cooperation between countries is so great that we went through customs BEFORE boarding the aircraft. That meant that we flew in and deplaned one heck of a lot more quickly than we would have from any other foreign port.

This blog has brought the trip to life for me nearly every day for several weeks. Hoping that people have seen the photos and enjoyed the trip, I now look for another topic to organize photos for a period of time. When I get the final idea, the next post will follow. Meanwhile, one more Alaska poem:

HOMEWARD BOUND

It has often been said that we leave a bit of ourselves
Wherever we happen to visit, wherever we happen to learn
It has also been said that we take a bit of those places
Home with us, tucked deeply in our hearts.
Those of us who love to travel must grow big hearts
To handle all these inputs, and those headed for Alaska
Better prepare themselves for the extra weight they will bear.
I wonder how speakers of Inuktitut, the Aleut language, would say
Things like "Thanks for everything" and "See you again."

Leaving Alaska

We boarded Coral Princess in Ketchikan and set sail for Vancouver. It was Saturday evening and the Street Fair was going strong. We were looking forward to the relaxation of a final sea day, not realizing that there would be no sea day. Cruising the Atlantic or the Caribbean, as I have indicated, allows lots of time with nothing to see outside the ship, nothing but ocean and sky and vastness. We remained near the coast and all day Sunday found things to see, boats and fishermen and all sorts of wonderful activity. It put a final wonderful feeling on the entire visit, and one we will never forget.

As the trip began in July and finished in August, I put together a second TRAVELING Magazine cover, featuring Lady Baltimore, Mendenhall Glacier, and an eagle I spotted from Capt. Rob Halston's tour outside Ketchikan. The problem, of course, was choosing the few images to print over the many others that I will never forget. It was tough but it was great fun.

We arrived in Vancouver on Monday morning, got some interesting "morningscapes" as we came in to the dock, and bussed to the airport for the trip home. Next post we will look at the beauty of a city on a Monday in August and we will close the Alaska trip.

People of Ketchikan

As we departed our final shore stop, we headed back to Ketchikan and saw signs for a Street Fair and Battle of the Bands. With plenty of time before sailing, we walked through the downtown fair and it left an absolutely wonderful final impression on us. From Capt. Rob Halston and his crew, who were personable as well as professional, to the street vendors and the patrons of the fair, we met so many nice people that it was a wonderful day. The streets were alive with skateboarders and dog walkers, the concession booths had those wonderful smells of summer food, and we talked to a clerk in a bookstore about the weather and the people of Ketchikan. It was surely our favorite town on the trip.

And it is interesting that after the caribou and the bears, the sled dogs and the running salmon, the mountains and the glaciers; the town we liked best was filled with wonderful, friendly people who could make us feel at home. Reminds us a lot of the lesson we already knew, the one about how ordinary people are the treasure of the earth. Thanks for the reminder, Ketchikan.

That evening we headed toward Vancouver and our airplane ticket home. Watch for the next post.

Immies Showing Off?

As we approached an island lighthouse, which was quite interesting to see in its own right, we saw that there were dozens of eagles standing on the ground, clustered on the lighthouse itself, or walking on the beach. We had learned that all eagles in Alaska are bald eagles, but the characteristic white head does not come at birth. The immature eagles --- hence the term "immies" -- take up to three years to grow into their adulthood and their majestic look.

As we neared the island, I saw two immies on a rock and could almost hear teenagers talking. "What do you wanna do? . . . I don't know, what do you wanna do? . . . I don't know, just hang out, I guess." We have all heard the script so often. Then the talk was over, wasn't it, as one closed the discussion with "Hey, watch this . . . " I heard the captions in my mind as the shutter was clicking. And later, I was pleased to see that I had caught the tableau. It was a highlight of the day and of the trip.

After docking from Capt. Rob's wonderful tour, we headed back to Ketchikan for a surprising added bit of fun. That is for the next post.

Lighthouse, Totems & Eagles

Our arrival on Saturday in Ketchikan found a sunny sky in a town that had seen rain for several straight days. A vibrant downtown left a positive impression and we boarded a bus for a short trip up the coast to see a lighthouse, totems and some eagles. While the title sounded good, it fell far short of the wonderful adventure we were in for. At the dock we boarded a comfortable boat captained by Capt. Rob Holston, who narrated and guided us on a great morning's trip.

Yes, we saw a lighthouse. Yes, we saw totems on display in a totem park, and we were able to do so without leaving the boat. And yes, we saw eagles. Oh, did we ever see eagles. As Capt. Rob toured the route he knows so well, he showed us an abandoned logging camp built right on the water, several opulent seaside mansions, and -- count them -- 15 giant eagles nests. And on the sunkist morning, we saw at least 60 eagles, many of them sitting majestically on their aeries and others in full flight. The clatter of clicking cameras was almost constant as the eager tourists saw memorable images virtually any way they looked.

Readers of this blog over the past two weeks know that day after day we had wonderful experiences and a ton of adventure. But after we were back aboard ship, we were asked to evaluate our excursions, and Capt. Rob and his crew drew our highest rankings. It was such a wonderful morning that we will have to return to the boat on the next post. We will see the eagles who were visiting the lighthouse.

Lady Baltimore

Cruisers know that time on land is valuable, and in various locations they gravitate to an excursion that is so quick and easy to access that it gives the most enjoyment for the least expenditure of time. Many shorelines large enough for modern cruise ships are not adjoining high ridges or hills, but a few of them are. When one has a tram or sky ride, it is often anchored near the ship dock and is always worth the time it takes to grab the view. In the Caribbean, for instance, we always tram up on St. Thomas in the United States Virgin Islands.

In Juneau, the tram is an easy walk to the ship and the skyline views -- along with the sky view of the cruise ship -- are certainly worth the ride. And in our case, as we were on the up ride, I looked down and snapped a photo of a sizable brown bear directly below us. The town to the right and the ship to the left as we looked down offered several interesting images as well. And none of those images ranks with the feature at the top of the ridge. On the way to the expected gift shop, we found Lady Baltimore.

The bald eagle is in a large cage and will spend the rest of her life there for her own protection. As the photo shows, she has been blinded in one eye but a careless hunter, who shot her, striking her in the beak. When she turns her head, viewers can see the gnarled wound, which drove her to the ground, blinding her eye and causing other injuries. She has recovered from all but the blindness, which makes her incapable of caring for herself in the wild. Now fed well and apparently comfortable as the Lady of the area and the star of the show, she strikes me as a majestic survivor. I see strength, resolution, and dedication in the powerful eagle and I wish her a long life. When I return to Alaska, as I no doubt will, I will tram up to say hello to her once again. Until then, best wishes to Lady Baltimore.

It was time to tram down, walk to the pier, and board ship. One stop left, in Ketchikan, would feature more eagles. These eagles, free and plentiful, are the stars of the next post.

Green Angel Gardens

Green Angel Gardens, outside Juneau, is a wonderful peaceful oasis of natural beauty. Our final stop on a tour of Juneau, this easy-to-enjoy location features bright flowers, as seen here, a gentle walking trail, and lots of things to see. A family business operated by transplanted Alaskans, they show maps and items that display native customs and traditions.

As noted in an earlier post, the long hours of daylight combine with a lack of the withering heat of much of the lower 48 states to provide greenery and flowers that are as beautiful as any garden lover could wish to see. Be certain when you plan an Alaska trip to set aside time for one or more of the lush gardens of the 49th state.

From Green Angel, our bus took us back to town, but we did not immediately board ship. Instead we trammed up the mountain. We visit Lady Baltimore on the next post.

Mendenhall Glacier

Funny how some words stick and affect all your perceptions. In Glacier Bay we saw Marjorie Glacier. With that pretty name, we saw a feminine side, a beauty that stood out in the rugged landscape. Aboard ship, we were awestruck as we watched her calve.

Today, we are outside the Alaskan Capitol city of Juneau, off a tour bus and standing on a viewing platform that would have been under the Mendenhall Glacier just fifty years ago. A masculine name attached to the glacier, just as much a frozen river as any other, lends it a strength that makes it a perfect complement to Marjorie. It even has more blue color to it.

The Mendenhall setting is quite peaceful, with a trail promoting movement. As you walk, you see the glacier in differing angles and differing lights, and you see the still water acting as a reflecting pool for various islands and trees. Many interesting and colorful birds fly all through the area, adding more to see and trilling their summer songs. The adventure of memories includes all the senses, and Alaska has treats for ears as well as eyes.

We left Mendenhall on the way to a beautiful garden. We stop there on the next post.

DOUBT: A Parable

Looks like I will be going to see the recent Meryl Streep movie this week. The Steel Beam Theatre in downtown St. Charles Illinois is staging an outstanding 100-minute live performance of the original John Peter Shanley script, a live dramatic play. Titled as above, Doubt: A Parable is a probing look at doubt and certainty and at the difficult choices we make as we live out our lives. Certainly there are thousands of people who have seen Ms. Streep, the finest actress of our time. But once I knew I would be attending this version, I decided not to see the film. Now, having enjoyed the outstanding work of this quartet of actors, I feel compelled to see the film as directed by Shanley himself.

Director Terence Domschke lead Dennis Edwards as Father Flynn and Donna Steele as Sister Aloysius in a riveting clash of opponents. The questions arise from the certainty that the nun, the 1964 school principal, feels compels her to "bring down" the priest she mistrusts. Both priest and nun have issues of their own involved. We all wonder how to gain the certainty that will bring down evil and promote good, and how we can act that way without causing evil in the process. Is anyone wise enough to follow through? Is anyone perfect enough to withstand a malevolent scrutiny designed to destroy? Loads of things to ponder.

In a discussion period following the play, I commented that over 50 years ago I and all my classmates watched Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier and learned his motto: Be sure you are right, then go ahead. In just a few short years, I realized that if we waited to "be sure," we might never get anything done. In a few more years, I learned the disturbing truth about Davy Crockett, who was no hero in many ways. Perhaps he has been better characterized as a drunk.

No pictures to add tonight, and no answers to the tough questions posed by the fine script and powerful actors. Just the questions.

Salmon Run Finish Line

The State Capitol of Alaska, Juneau, is a busy place to visit. On our one day, we saw an outstanding museum, visited an awesome glacier, took a tram up a mountain, and dropped by the finish line of the salmon run. We will look at Juneau over a few posts, but the salmon ladder came in the morning and will be our first stop.

As a Chicagoan not particularly interested in fishing, I was struck by the photos I took back in Anchorage as the salmon had begun running. I had read about the run and also about the ladders, but had no clear understanding. In Anchorage we had seen dozens of fishermen in the stream, pulling salmon out of the water one by one. But here, in Juneau, we saw how much effort and dedication these animals put into their life-ending spawn. Watching them on the ladder, striving and driving, avoiding little gates and literally jumping the walls to rise to the top, the salmon truly put every ounce of effort into the work. Against the stream, they get pushed back but only redouble their efforts to arrive at the top. The ladder images shows how the salmon must swim to the left, turn and swim to the right, each time leaping the series of walls that slowly but eventually will carry them to the top with thousands of their peers.

There, the harvesters separate the males from the females, and then harvest the milk as seen in the picture. The male had been stunned by an electric shock and poked to access the milk. While he will be dead momentarily, that was his fate in any case and the stunning will make the end peaceful for him. To see male after milk spurting out the last energy of his life, finishing his lifelong odyssey, contributing to the future generations, is completely awesome.

Soon after we reached the finish line along with some of the salmon, we got back on the bus and headed for Mendenhall Glacier. But not without thinking back over what we had seen in the dedication and effort of these salmon. Our blog will arrive at Mendenhall with the next post.