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| Belgrade, Montana |
LINK: MHSA Eastern AA divisional tournament, Day 1
16.3.22
13.3.22
12.3.22
11.3.22
10.3.22
9.3.22
8.3.22
7.3.22
Special Delivery
When a person reports a positive COVID-19 case to the Gallatin County Health Department, they are asked if they need any assistance. If they do, a cadre of people across multiple organizations are ready to help.
At 3 p.m. on a Tuesday, one such person, Health Department volunteer Kristal Jones, pulled up to the Gallatin Valley Food Bank in her minivan to collect boxes of food to be delivered to people isolated by COVID. The food was hand-picked by food bank staff member Chloe Loeffelholz, who took into consideration things like food allergies, or availability of cooking implements.
In summer of 2020, Jones was feeling the early pandemic blues when she noticed a post on a listserv seeking volunteers for the health department. She was glad to find a way to engage with her community at a time when people were otherwise isolated. “It was really calming to be like, I can’t fix the political stuff, and I can’t fix that a lot of people are getting sick, but I can at least help these five people this week.”
On this day, Jones had three food deliveries to make. The first two were at the former Rodeway Inn, which was purchased by the Human Resource Development Council in 2021. The hotel has a small COVID-19 quarantine area, separated from the rest of the building by a sheet of plastic in the hallway.
Her last delivery was at a house in a neighborhood not far from Montana State University. Jones grew up in Bozeman before moving to the East Coast for 15 years. Upon returning, she was taken aback by the growth. Delivering food to people of all backgrounds throughout Gallatin Valley reminded her that Bozeman isn’t a big place. “There’s people with needs all over the valley and there's people helping each other out all over the valley, which is pretty cool,” said Jones. “Not a radical revelation.”
6.3.22
5.3.22
3.3.22
2.3.22
1.3.22
Southside hockey
At Southside Park, the goal can be many things. Often, it's an upturned bench, or two shoes spaced a few feet apart. It can also be a stack of empty beer cans. A two-by-four laid sideways. A snow shovel. A flat, wooden box with two puck sized holes. Occasionally, someone brings an actual hockey net.
Played under street lights that stay on until 10 p.m., it’s hockey at its simplest. “All you need is skates and a stick and maybe a puck, but most people have one of those anyways,” said Siri Devlin, recently graduated with a master’s degree from Montana State.
To the passerby intimidated by the fast pace of hockey games slicing simultaneously through the ice at Southside Park, fear not. Many a pond hockey career has begun at Southside, including Devlin’s.
After acquiring her mother’s old pair of hockey skates as an undergrad, Devlin began visiting the park with groups of friends, eventually gaining the confidence to join pick up games with strangers. “I kinda forced myself to learn how to skate just by playing and being motivated to do well and get the puck and help the team out, ” she said while taking a break from a Sunday game. “I can play pick up with most people now and not terribly humiliate myself”
Pickup games start literally, with everyone interested in playing throwing their sticks into a pile. One person will separate the sticks into two piles, and the pile from which a person picks up their stick determines their team. Games can last hours, so newcomers are openly welcomed to join in at any point.
Sometimes the score is kept, but winning isn’t really important. At Southside Park, the real goal is to have fun.
28.2.22
27.2.22
26.2.22
25.2.22
24.2.22
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22.2.22
21.2.22
Granny's Donuts
At 4:30 a.m. on a recent Friday morning, Robert McWilliams arrived at his doughnut shop in Bozeman, as he has done for more than fifteen years. The shop is regularly lauded as the finest place for doughnuts in town, if not the state, and the pressure to maintain that reputation appears to have missed McWilliams. The tunes are bumping, the fry kettle is hot, and McWilliams is chatting about the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster.
Granny’s Donuts is a hole in the wall in a city of increasingly hole-less walls. McWilliams arrived in Bozeman in 1978 to attend Montana State. After working at several restaurants, he opened a small bakery, making “cinnamon rolls, sticky buns, scones, that sort of thing. It was okay,” he said, “but just wasn’t enough to hang your hat on.” So he bought a used kettle and glazer in Calgary, and figured out how to make doughnuts.
“Baking is a numbers game, where you want to hit your numbers,” said McWilliams. The numbers for this particular Friday are 1,400 doughnuts, fried 40 at a time in palm oil hovering around 370 degrees Fahrenheit. The tempo is relentless, but, “this is where the music comes in,” said McWilliams. “Music helps me keep the rhythm.”
Eventually, three staff members arrive to help put the finishing touches on the pastries and assemble boxes of assorted dozens. At 7 a.m., the line of customers forming on the icy sidewalk outside the shop are let in, and the glass display case that McWilliams spent hours filling with his famous doughnuts begins to empty.
20.2.22
19.2.22
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14.2.22
Season of light
The shining sun is a luxury in the depths of winter. In its place, a surplus of darkness. However, what we may lack in natural light is made up for with a variety of unnatural light that illuminates everyday scenes in unexpected ways. That, paired with a blank canvas of snow, creates unintentional works of art throughout town that are unique to the darkest months.
It is the reason why, despite being so dark, winter is called the season of light. Humans need light to orient ourselves in time and space, to communicate, and to feel human. Artificial light in the winter can be both ornamental and functional, something to celebrate, yet not to take lightly.
13.2.22
Football frenzy
Football fans are prodigious screamers. They scream for touchdowns, they scream for tackles. They scream for the cameras synced to the jumbotron. They scream things their mothers might not appreciate, if only their mothers could hear over all the screaming.
These are some of the faces we saw screaming at Bobcat football games this fall.
