Sunday, November 27, 2011

North to Alaska- Cheers



It has taken the last two days to recuperate from the Tribal Feast, which I looked upon more as a gorge.  Even today I feel like I will never eat again.

The morning was interrupted by a visit from Big Bear Sam.  He said he had promised to give me the paper he wrote while in college that dealt with Native Americans and Alcohol specifically those Native Americans living in Alaska.  I had forgotten about his promise but told him I had been looking forward to reading it.  He told me to remember it was just his opinion although he did some Internet research, conducted interviews and used some pure logic.

We chatted for awhile longer over a cup a tea and then he left to visit others, his usual Sunday routine he told me.

I read the paper he had written while attending the U of A, Anchorage, and found it very intriguing.  I wont bother to duplicate the paper here but think it interesting enough to share some of the high points.

It is estimated that out of every 100,000 deaths in Alaska among aboriginals almost 100 are due to some sort of alcoholic factor.  It doesn't sound like much but statistically the percentage is huge.  He figures that Indians/Eskimos (I/E) just cannot handle alcohol.  Why he asked himself.  Was there some sort of genetic difference between whites and I/E's or was it because  I/E's were just not able to control social impulses that sometimes alcohol released.

His research showed that those who claim Jewish ancestry became alcoholics late in life.  The Irish became lushes during middle age, and I/E's became dependent in their early 20's or late teens.  The Jewish cultural had alcohol in their life since antiquity, the Irish had been drinking for around 1000 years, but the I/E's had only been introduced to grain and grape for less than 300 years.  Big Bear included that the high rate of deaths among I/E's was due to a Darwinian thing.  Those of the Jewish culture and those of Irish decent had much longer to weed out those who could not handle alcohol through natural selection.  Those that Alcohol seemed to make them do stupid things died with more frequency than those who had some sort of tolerance.  Over the years those who had a high tolerance were able to pass on that tolerance to the next generation.  Eskimos and Indians had just not been drinking long enough to achieve the tolerance level that Jews and Irish had obtained.

I for one cannot verify the data that Big Bear used for his conclusion but his idea is certainly interesting.  I am not sure I feel about his hypothesis and would be interested in hearing what you, the long suffering reader of this blog might think.

Friday, November 25, 2011

North to Alaska - Sushi Anyone?



Yesterday was a great day.

After the harrowing experience at the Malamute Saloon I was ready for the mundane task of being a teacher again.  I headed out early Monday morning and before Wednesday noon I had visited all my students and even had enough time to stop by and see the Finks.  Everyone had done their lessons, even Jimmy Green, and the Finks were just as nice and pleasant as always. 

The Twins were beside themselves with anticipation and made me promise I would be at the tribal feast so I could see them dance.

The map made of an animal hide that Uncle Frank had given me, via the Twins of course, was easy to follow.  The only thing that threw me off a little was the scale.  The place where the feast was to be held ended up being a lot closer than I had anticipated.  It only took an hour to get to the Octagon.

The Octagon as you might suspect is an eight sided wooden structure where, I gathered, tribal ceremonies of any note were held.  Although I had arrived early the place was packed and food already set up inside on wooden tables just as rustic looking as the building itself.

The feast was not a whole lot different than any Thanksgiving celebration in the lower 48 except for the notable exceptions that there was not turkey.  There were however plenty of ducks, geese, a swan, otters, caribou, moose, and shell fish.  Each was prepared in numerous sorts of ways, no two of which were the same.  Some how there were vegetable casseroles prepared with corn and green beans being the item of choice, but they also were all prepared differently.  The only notable difference was that there was a mound of frozen fish piled in one nook of the Octagon which I thought a little strange because I saw no stove or fire that could cook them. 

After everyone, or almost everyone, was settled and a prayer given the line formed with the teenagers or so it seemed, in the front of the line.  I thought this sort of rude given the fact that the elders kept their seats.  The kids piled a little bit of everything on a plate even the the frozen fish.  They immediately took the plates to the elders seated as a sign of respect.  The frozen fish thing still puzzled me till I realized that it was the Athabaskan's equivalent of sushi and their traditional meal.

Bev and I were asked to go next behind the teenagers and we also filled our plate but tried to avoid the frozen fish pile but with no luck.  Jimmy Green took it upon himself to find us the biggest two fish in the pile.  The rest of the crowd lined up and went through the line eagerly.

While trying to figure out how to eat around the fish and perhaps give it away to a more deserving person I noticed that some of the younger adults sat hot sauce on the table and sprinkled it on the fish before they chomped down.

Everything was delicious and the Italian meatballs Bev had prepared were a big hit.

I finally came to the last bite of a piece of moose, I think, when I realized that I could not put this fish business off any longer.  I did not want to insult my hosts but I really had no desire to eat a raw fish, hot sauce or not.  I looked over towards Bev and she had already begun eating her fish.  She told me to eat up, it wasn't bad at all.  I sprinkled hot sauce over the fish, found some salt and pepper, reached across the table for some cocktail sauce and applied all liberally.  The moment of truth had come.  I tentatively took a lick, then a small nibble and then a bigger bite.  Now at this point in any story one would suspect that the narrator would say that to his surprise that it tasted far better than he thought.  Not so.  It was terrible.  I managed to down about half the fish and figured that would suffice.  To my shock it did.  No one seemed to notice or care if I finished it or not.

After the plates were taken away drummers came out and started beating out rhythms and singing songs in their native language.  After a few minutes several people came out and danced for awhile and then after they were through another bunch came out.  Eventually it was the Twins turn and I have to say in my opinion they were the best of all.

It took me awhile to figure out that each dancing group was from a family and each dance told a story of some sort.  I could not tell you what all the stories were but they defenately were a story and were choreographed in such a way that everyone else in the Octagon knew what the dancers were doing.  They would even laugh at certain parts of the routine.  It reminded me of going to the Opera and trying to follow the story and watching the true lovers of the art transfixed on the conduct of the performers and the foreign words of the performance.

There was the normal visiting between those present and everyone was introduced to us either by Big Bear or Jimmy Green.  For some reason Jimmy seemed to be one of the special hosts.

Along towards evening we left.  It was a most enjoyable time.  Probably one of the better Thanksgivings that I have ever had, even though there was not a Turkey present.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

North to Alaska - The Shooting of Who?

The Shooting of Who?

by   Conley Stone McAnally


Big Bear picked us up promptly at noon Indian time, which meant 3 P.M.  We hopped aboard his customized three seat snowmobile and headed south.  The trip was about three hours long and went over ridges, through the woods, and wound through valleys.

Just as the sun was setting I heard in the distance what could only be described as merriment.  There was laughing and good natured shouting just above the roar of a piano playing a ragtime tune.  As we crested the top of the last crest I spied in the valley below the Malamute Saloon with blazing yellow rays of light piercing the darkness through the windows.

As we entered the place the first thing that struck me was how similar it looked to the old western bars I had seen in movies and the ones that were in Tombstone.  The next thing that struck me was that a lot of the men were whooping it up dancing to the kid in the corner playing the upright piano.  The men were dancing by themselves, laughing and just having good natured fun. 

In one corner there was a blackjack dealer with a white shirt, black armbands, and steely gray eyes.  At the end of the bar stood a woman dressed as a dance hall girl, and behind the bar serving drinks was a guy dressed in a red and white stripped shirt with blue arm bands and matching bow tie.

As we seated ourselves the dance hall girl came to our table, introduced herself as Lou, the owner of the Malamute, turned to the bartender and yelled, "Put down your pad and pecil Bob and set'em up for my friends here, first one on the house."

We toasted each other, drank our shots of whiskey and another one was poured for the the three of us.  I told Lou to leave the bottle and I through away the cork.  I was determined to have fun and that this would be a night to remember.  Never a truer thought was 'thunk.'

We watched the men dancing and eventually one of them came over to me and asked very politely if he could ask Bev to dance.  I looked at Bev, she smiled and shrugged her shoulders.  I said yes.  For the next thirty minutes Bev was on the floor dancing her feet off.

While Bev was out on the floor I asked Big Bear who the menacing looking black jack dealer was.  He was, he told me, Lou's latest conquest.  Trouble is this guy it is said was the real jealous type and some considered him out right dangerous.  His name was McGrew, Dan McGrew.

Bev returned to the table while the boy on the piano took a break.  She said she had not danced that much since she left high school on the south side of Chicago or when she was a go go dancer with The Red Rubber Ball band.  No sooner had she said that than the door flew open and in stormed a wild looking guy with a beard to the middle of his chest and hair down to the middle of his back.  He looked like he was fresh from the mine fields or trap lines. He was dog dirty and ready for bear.  His parka was glazed with dirt and opened at the front to expose a buckskin shirt, it too looking somewhat dirty.

He marched to the middle of the empty dance floor raised his hand over his head holding a pouch bulging from its contents and said, "Joe, give my friends a drink on me, and don't stop till I tell you to.  I hit the mother load boys."   A cheer came from the crowd and everyone gathered round him.  Laughing, slapping him on the back, and congratulating him on his find.

I asked Big Bear who that guy was and Big Bear's only reply was that there is going to be some trouble and did not divert his eyes from the stranger.

During the celebration the stranger spotted the empty piano in the corner.  He walked over to it and began to play, my God how that man could play.  He didn't do ragtime or the popular tunes of the day, they were more of a classical bent.  Lou ventured over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder in what looked like to me a very familiar fashion.  I looked over to the blackjack table and old Dangerous Dan stiffened  and glared in the direction of the stranger and Lou. 

The stranger was a true musician because he seemed to lose himself in the ivories and his music touched your insides.  The music eventually became haunting and thunderous and seemed to shout emotions that can only be described as having a touch of evil.  

With a loud last crash of his paws on the keyboard he stood up and said,"you all know who I am and how long it has been since I have been here.  You all respected my situation except for one of you.  One of you is a low down hound from hell, wife steeling, no good bastard that takes advantage of the poor, the elderly and lonely women.  That guy is Dan McGrew!  

With the word McGrew the lights went out, men began to shout and two shots rang out in the dark.  When the lights came back on Dangerous Dan McGrew was slumped over the blackjack table dead while the stranger lay beside the piano with his head resting in Lou's arms. 

I was close enough to hear the stranger tell Lou, "See, I told you I would strike it rich and return to you."  With that the stranger closed his eyes and died.

We all had to wait there till the state troopers arrived and it was a little unsettling Bev said dancing around the dead bodies but the sheets put over each man helped.

We were the first to give our statements as to what we had seen and were allowed to leave.   On the way back to the cabin I asked Big Bear what was normally done in cases like this.  He said that the officials make a half hearted attempt to find the man's relatives and usually with no positive results.  Then the property goes to the state and then auctioned off.  I asked how much the state would get for a really great gold mine and how they figured the exchange rate of all the gold the stranger had with him. 

"They don't usually buy gold minds because most like our dead friend here are broke and no one knows  where the strike was, it could have been any place.  The Malamute was his first stop so he had not registered a claim.  His 'mother load' will be like your Lost Dutchman Mine."  What about the pouch of gold he had with him.  "Well I am not as wise as a lot of the guys but I bet you that Lou has already ready provided that service."

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

North to Alaska - My New Map and News of a Saloon



I usually don't go out on Monday but given last weeks trial I was behind.  So I hit the road early Monday morning and just as early Tuesday and made my rounds. 

Eddie Joe and the Twins had done their lessons well and eagerly awaited another assignment.  They were exceptionally excited about the Thanksgiving feast coming up and the Twins gave me explicit directions via an animal skin map they said was prepared by Uncle Frank.  Sally Deer was just as withdrawn and gaity not present at all when I mentioned the up coming Thanksgivng feast and was non commital as to if she was attending.  The homework she provided was excellent and she accepted the next assignmet with about as much joy as coming across a bear in the woods just waking from a long winter nap.  Jimmy Green of course had not finished his work but promised he would have it next week and give it to me at the feast.  His mother took me to the side and asked me if she could do the lessons also as long as she did not give Jimmy the answeres.  I told her that perhaps I could find some school work that might be more age appropriate.  Jimmy did show me a rope he had made from a caribou skin which seemed well made, but then how would I know.

The only interesting thing to happen on the trail back is that I ran into Big Bear Sam.  He asked me if I wanted to go to a saloon this Friday night and play some pool.  I told him I did not know they had a saloon anywhere close and he said close was relative and that he would pick me up around noon Friday.  I asked him if Bev could come and he said sure if she wouldn't mind dancing with gold prospectors.  She might be the only lady there he said.

I acted a little surpised that Big Bear would be going to a saloon given the alcohol Indian thing. He said that it was true that alcohol was a problem with many Indians and Eskimos but not all.  In fact he said he had a theory about the whole thing.  He had written a paper while in college and would let me read it some day.  Anyway he said not many Native Americans frequented the Malamute Saloon.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

North to Alaska - Sam McGee

Well I needed that long winter's nap last night.   In my blog space where I write "More About Me," I mention that I never let facts interfere with a good story.  Well what I am about to relate may seem odd or a little queer (in the old since of the word) and many of you will dismiss it out of hand immediately.  I will not try to persuade you that my latest adventure is true.  Those who believe will, and those who don't wont and there is no amount of persuading that will change ones mind one way or another.   All I will say is that there are very strange things that happen in the land of the midnight sun and the things one sees and experiences on the Arctic Trails might make ones blood chill.

As I left off yesterday my friend was just coming around.  He had taken off all his clothes except the long underwear and covered himself with blankets.  He did not go to sleep, he just wanted to be warm.  He accepted a cup of tea that I had brewed from the store of supplies the cabin's owner had provided and began to cook a pot of beans that also was so graciously provided, albeit not necessarily known to our benefactor.

I thought it was about time to find out who my friend was and what he was doing so far away from things.

His name was Sam, but most everyone called him Mac he said.  He was a gold prospector.  Sam was from Tennessee like he had first said and why, he asks himself now and then, he ever decided to leave the cotton fields of Plumb Tree, he'll never know.  He had retired from the military and he and another retiree, he only referred to as Captain, Cap or Ole Cap, set off on their own great adventure to look for gold.  They found some and on the way back to transfer gold dust to green paper Mac got sick and really thought he was going to die.  In his delirium he made his partner promise to cremate his last remains and not leave him in a cold snowy grave.  Apparently Mac passed out and only regained consciousness when he opened his eyes and found he was surrounded by flames.  He was trying to figure out what was going on when he felt a chill wind blow across his face and heard a scream.  He looked towards the sound of the scream and saw Cap just as he was turning around and leaving hurriedly leaving the door  ajar.   Mac scampered toward the opening and saw Cap running towards his snowmobile, jump on and speed off into the distance.  Mac decided he would stay put because he was warm by the harth of the furnace roar and after a quick survey he realized that the flames were from an old boat tied to a lake dock.  He said it began to dawn on him what had happened.  Cap had taken what he thought was Mac's inert dead body along the trail looking for a place to cremate him.  One of the stern codes of the trail is that a promise made is a debt unpaid and Cap was an honorable man.  He must have come across this old derelict boat, realized it was no good for anything and decided to use it as a crematorium for his frozen chum.  Little did Cap know, Mac said, that Mac was not dead, just frozen to a catatonic state which "happens now and then up here."  When Cap wanted to see if Sam was cooked he looked inside and saw Sam in all is glory looking cool and calm.  Ole Cap panicked and lit out probably thinking that he had lost his mind.

After warming up, making a survey of his provisions, he mounted his own snowmobile which Cap had been towing Mac's "body" and with some dead reckoning he reckoned he headed to the nearest settlement he knew about.  He needed to refit and go find Cap.  However he had some engine trouble tried to fix the machine and the storm hit, he froze up again and then I found him. 

I listened to his yarn and wondered what the real story was but this was not the time or the place to challenge ones account of a life episode.  We spent two nights in the cozy cabin and although I cannot say we became good friends I did find Sam very enjoyable to talk to and was amazed at the knowledge he had about gold prospecting and living in the "land of death" which he called it a lot.

The wind and snow had stopped so we spent the next day repairing his snowmobile.  It only needed a belt and wouldn't you know it our Cabin owner had one of those too along with some extra gasoline.

I mentioned to Sam that I felt like a thief and he said not to worry, we only need to leave the guy a note telling him who we were, what we used, and how to reach us so we could resupply his "loss."  It is standard policy up here he said.

We both put down the information, pinned it to the inside of the door, shook hands, and said our goodbyes.  He was headed north and I south and were pretty well sure how to get to our final destinations.  I got about a mile down the road when I realized I had forgotten to reattach my sleigh.  When I returned to the cabin and got ready to go again, I also realized that I did not even know Sam's last name nor how to get hold of him if the mood so struck.  I went to where we had left the notes.  His said,  "Thanks for the provisions, I will be back this way again I am sure and will drop off everything I took plus some more.  Thanks,  Sam McGee, from Tennessee  where the cotton blooms and blows.  P.S.  If a guy comes by looking for me and he says is name is Ole Cap tell him I headed towards the Dawson Trail."

Same McGee?  I know I have heard that name before but just can't place it.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

North to Alaska- My Frozen Chum



Well I bet you just about for got about me or you thought that I was blown away by the terrible snow storm that hit the western coast up here.  Well if you thought the blizzard had gotten me you were almost correct. 

Although we are miles inland from the west coast of Alaska, nearer to Canada really, the effects of, what they are calling a snowacaine, did have some effect on us.  I started on my rout Tuesday and after two hours of travelling on what is becoming a familiar rout it began to snow.  There was about 6" on the ground and the trail was clear enough but the further I went the harder the snow and  more unclear the trail.  I eventually decided I needed to turn around and head back to the cabin.  Just as I found a clearing to turn around in I came across a man humped over his snowmobile.  At first I thought he was dead but when I checked his pulse it was still beating.  I really didn't know what to do.  The snow was increasing and it was getting darker.  I knew I had to get the man inside out of the cold and snow that was driving through my parka like driven nails, but where?  I decided with out much thought that I would lash the man on to the sleigh I pulled behind the snowmobile.   I emptied the school material from the sleigh, lugged the quiet clay over , placed him in, wrapped him snugly and strapped him in tight. 

During all this I kept talking to him and I swore he hearkened with a grin, but with no other movement or sound.  The snow was really coming down now and I could not find the trail.  I had plenty of gas so I was not concerned about running out and I knew my compass worked so I would eventually get to Big Lake and I could find my way from there. 

I eventually came upon a rise and down in the valley below I saw a log cabin that looked very much like my own.  We had to get out of the weather, it was taking us longer than I thought it would, so I made a hasty beeline towards the abode.  The door was unlocked and although rustic in nature I determined this would do just fine for a shelter till the storm passed.  At least if the guy died he would not freeze to death.  I got him in the cabin, laid him in the only bed and started a fire in the fireplace with kindling so kindly left by whom ever owned the place. 

I realized that I would probably be there all night and I knew Bev would worry so I tried to reach her on my walkie talkie that the school district had provided.  I was in luck.  I got hold of her, gave her a brief description of what was going on, told her not to worry, I would be home when I could.  Of course I forgot to ask her if she was doing alright.

The fire was roaring but I knew it would not last long if I didn't find some more wood.  I headed out behind the cabin and started collecting dead wood, at least as much as I could see trough the driving snow.  I must have made 10 trips in all staying inside just long enough to thaw out and check my friends pulse. 

On the last trip in I saw my buddy sitting up in bed starting to take off his clothes and get under the blankets I had provided from the clothes closet.  I was shocked.  He looked at me and said he guessed he owed be some thanks and this is the first time he had been warm since he left Tennessee.   I will tell you more about him later.  I got home late last night and I am tired.  School is Monday you know, I need to rest up.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

North to Alaska - Big Bear Sam

When I returned from my fishing expedition Big Bear Sam was in the middle of changing my four wheeler into a snowmobile, called a snow go in this part of the world.  After our traditional meeting with a big bear hug I suggested he was being a little premature about replacing the tires with skis.  "There will be snow on the ground tomorrow."   Well not according to the news I received over the weather radio given me my the school district.  "It will snow tonight and will be here for a long time.  The lake will not freeze over for a while though.  Boat still good."

We asked Big Bear to stay for dinner and help us eat the fish I had just caught and to my surprise he accepted our invitation. 

Big Bear's "Christian Name" as he called it was Leroy.  We all agreed that Big Bear was a much better name.  He had been raised in the area but his father knew that a man had to have the abilities to live in both the white and Indian world, so he sent him off to Boarding School but insisted he come home in the summer and learn what he was not learning at Sitka.

He then attended the University of Alaska in Anchorage but went there in the summer and alternated the fall and spring semesters so he could be at home and learn more about his community and culture and how they lived during different parts of the year. 

He took a degree in Biology and immediately joined the Coast Guard.  His idea, supported by his father, that a military life would be good and at least the Coast Guard did real life saving missions and did not spend all their time just training getting ready for something that may not happen.  His father was a member of the Territorial Guard Scout Battalion back in the 50's and 60's, and while he was proud to serve, he also thought it was sort of a waste of time.




As luck would have it and proving that the military used ones innate skill when assigning people to certain jobs and locations, Leroy, was sent to Key West and became a radar operator watching storms and ships as they crossed his screen.

He was given an early out because his father died and he was the sole support of the rest of his family, that being several little sisters and one elderly mother.  He decided to stay in the area.  He supplements his corporation and dividend money by acting as a guide in the summer for the "adventures" from the lower 48 - fishing or hunting, it made little difference. 

I asked him about this Shaman business and he said he would rather not talk about it right now, that I was not ready.  I let it drop.

Today there is snow on the ground, about a foot, and I will head out tomorrow to see my students and a ride through the snowy forests of the north.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

North to Alaska - First Full Week

The week went by pretty fast.  I spent all day Tuesday going over notes the previous teacher had left.  She was single lady who came out here all alone and stayed five years. She had made very detailed notes on each student.  In addition to Eddie Joe and the Twins there was plenty of information on Sally Deer and Jimmy Green and the seven children of the Fink family, missionaries from Montana.

Wednesday was a pleasant day.  Eddie and the Twins had learned their lessons well.  Eddie showed me an otter he had cleaned.  It had to hang for three days outside he said then he could cut and eat it.  I quickly counted the three days off in my mind and with a sigh of relief realized I would not be there for the feast.  I am some what thankful.   The Twins after their lesson review and new assignment showed me a traditional dance they had been practicing for the Thanksgiving tribal reunion that was to be held in a couple of weeks.  Uncle Frank even played the drum but as usual never said anything or acknowledged me.  That is the the first time I had heard about the party and didn't think I would be invited anyway, not being a member of the tribe.  They assured me I was invited.  "Everyone is invited, they have to come."   I asked them where it would be and they said they would give me all the info I needed next week.  I had wondered what we would do for Thanksgiving this year and wasn't really looking forward to  the food we had in the cabin.  It is good and nutritious of course but it isn't Thanksgiving turkey, cranberries, stuffing and such.  My mouth is watering now just thinking about it.

Sally Deer and Jimmy Green lived relatively close to one another, meaning five miles or so.  Sally was not a good student but her standardized tests and reading ability were far superior to any of the other students I had been assigned.  Her mother and father were friendly but distant.  Sally was just as friendly and just as distant.  She showed me here work from the last teacher and accepted my assignment she was to have for our next visit with out asking any questions.  She seemed a strange girl and the only thing I could think of at the time and even now is that she is a sad little girl.

Jimmy Green was an outgoing young man as was his mother.  The father was no where to be seen and from the notes the former teacher left no one was really sure who he was.  The mother's uncle  had taught Jimmy how to be a provider and he, albeit 16, was doing a good job.   His mother was extremely interested in Jimmy succeeding in school and the only Athabaskan parent so far that I have met that even hinted at college.  Jimmy on the other had did not care at all for school, couldn't read hardly, knew nothing about practical math, forget writing, but he did have a verbal knowledge of his Athabaskan heritage and could hunt, fish, and provide just as well as most grown men.  He is becoming what they call an Indian's Indian.  That Thursday, Jimmy taught me more about the wild life in the area than I taught him about what a noun was.  This one could be a challenge.  His mother I think is learning more than he is.

The Finks were not part of my educational responsibility.  Mrs. Fink home schools all there children until they reached the age of 14 and then they went away to a missionary school just outside of Fairbanks.  They have 9 children seven of which were still in the home along the banks of the Big Lake.  They supported themselves by donations from congregations they visited every year with some of the local Athabaskan children in tow.  They also had a rich patron that gave them just enough cash to buy plenty of food, clothing, gasoline, and health services if it was needed.  Their children were very well educated, Mr. and Mrs. Fink seem extremely happy and the kids seem content and well adjusted to a life in this part of Alaska.  The two children away from home, were doing well according to official transcripts the Finks showed me proudly.  My job concerning the Finks was only to make sure they were still doing well and provide any assistance they might need via text books or other material.  I only have to stop by their place one a week.  I think we will both enjoy the company.

So it is Saturday.  Seems like I have been here a long time already.  Not because I don't like it, but because I do.  Not being an outdoor type of guy I find it a little strange that I enjoy the great outdoors.  I like riding through the woods on the four wheeler, fishing off the dock, even cleaning the fish for supper. Of course I have only done that once so far but after today it will be twice.  I am done for now, I am going fishing.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

North in Alaska - Holloween and the Little People

Well Mr. Sam was right. 

At 5:30 in the morning we received our first trick-or-treats.  The only thing odd, other than the time, was there were no children with the elderly couple at our door.  We asked them in, offered them tea, and trying to be polite, asked them if they would like some home made biscuits.  They agreed to both.  A half our later another couple arrived but again with no children in tow.   They knew our guests and in fact they were related some how we eventually figured out.  They were invited for tea and biscuits also.   Ten minuets after that three elderly ladies came to the door.  Well the morning went on like that for the next three hours and at one time I counted 20 people in our little cabin drinking our years supply of tea, eating biscuits hurriedly made by Bev but still no children.  Around 10:00 A.M.  Some one decided to take a nap on the floor near the fire place and the others soon followed. 

Bev and I left everyone where they were and went out side to discuss what to do.  I was sure when they woke up from their nap they would want lunch and if the rest of the day was going to go like the morning we would have to result in using the gun and ammo we were left and become real subsistence livers in the north.  Right about then I finally got to meet Big Bear Sam.  He came strolling up out from between the trees and greeted me with a big bear hug like we were long lost friends.  He did the same to Bev but it was understandable I guess because he had met her yesterday.

He immediately told us not to worry that everyone would be leaving before noon.  It was like he had read our minds.  He told us not to worry about the tea there would be more coming in a couple of days and not to judge the elderly to hard for going to sleep on the floor.  Most of them had gotten up very early to make the trip and needed their rest before returning home insuring they would get there before night fall.  "The little people you know."

I was about to follow up on this little people business when he said that there would not be many children come by this year so we could be very liberal with the candy.  He said he would be back.  I turned and looked at Bev and then turned back to ask Mr. Sam about the little people and he had apparently faded back into the woods.

Around noon the elders started to come out of their nap and one by one they thanked us for our hospitality and went back to where ever their homes were.  Around one that afternoon families with children started showing up and we dutifully gave the kids a lot of candy and the parents tea, but they refused biscuits.  By four o'clock everyone who was going to come had we were told by the last departing guest.

Bev and I were worn out due to all the visitors and sat on the porch and watched the sun go down over the mountains on the other side of the lake.  We ate dinner and while we were watching a DVD a knock came to the door.  I got up to answer it and when I opened it Mr. Sam stood their with a frown on his face.  I asked him if anything was the matter.  He said I should not have answered the door, it could have been the little people.  After inviting him in for tea and some biscuits I finally had him cornered to ask what this little people thing was about.

He said the little people were sort of like what I might think of as leprechauns but much meaner and tougher.  They would scout out people who were out late at night on Halloween and kidnap them and take them back to their hide a way over  the mountains.  They made slaves out of the ones whom they captured and once one was taken over the mountain they were never heard from again. 

I did not believe him of course but he seem to believe what I considered a myth.  I asked him why he was able to run around at night with out fear and he said it was because he was a Shaman and the little people dared not touch him.  He left but not before me promising him that I would not open the door the rest of the night for any reason what so ever.  I told him I wouldn't and for him not to worry.  I turned to Bev and winked and when I turned back, Mr. Sam was gone.

About midnight a knock at the door woke me from a sound sleep.  I started to get up and answer it but then thought to myself that the Robert W. Service poem stating there were strange things done in the midnight sun might just have some merit so I rolled back over and went to sleep.  Who was I to challenge a ten thousand year old legend.  After all I did believe in leprechauns.