North in Alaska - 25

North in Alaska – 25

When I visited all my students this week they all insisted on calling me Professor.  The trouble is I don’t really feel like one if in fact a professor feels a certain way.  The only difference I see is that when I get one check from the School District I get another one from the university system.  I always thought Professors got paid too much for to little work and now I am certain.  I think it is a travesty but not enough of one for me to return the check.

I have a few minutes before I take off on my rounds so I thought perhaps I would address a subject that here to forth has only be implied and not topically written about.  That being, the role Bev has played during all my great adventures in the frozen north.

Men forge the trails of exploration and discovery but women it seems are the ones who bring order and civilization to the wilds.  If it were not for the organizational skills and practical abilities Bev has our tenure in the wilderness would not be as nearly rewarding or palatable.  Lets take an average day in the life of Bev.

She wakes up early each morning and starts the fire in the wood burning stove.  Puts on a fresh pot of tea and every once in awhile coffee.  She them whips up some biscuits and as not to be hum drum makes a different kind of biscuit every morning.  We have had biscuits laced with fruit, vegetable, meats, cheese and other concoctions that as of yet have been mouth watering and very tasty, except for the ones she made from otter meat.  We both decided that there was no need to try them again. 

She then goes to the fish line chops a hole in the ice and gathers the over night catch and cleans them immediately.  She then hauls water from the lake puts it on the stove to boil and fills the bathtub letting it cool down just enough so when she wakes me I can immediately have my morning bath.  We eat breakfast together and I head out to conquer the day.  Depending on what needs to be done she hops to it.  Sometime she makes small repairs to the cabin, sews things, chops wood, and  prepares for the evening meal by skinning and butchering any wild thing that may have been delivered by Big Bear the previous day.  If no animal was available she would scan the cupboard to see if any canned products were suitable and if not take her sudoko puzzles out on the porch along with a .22 rifle and wait for a squirrel or rabbit to scurry by.  You would be surprised at how many different ways you can prepared squirrel and rabbits, musk ox, moose, caribou, and the ubiquitous fish from the lake.  There is only one meal a week which she refuses to go native and that is Sunday.  She insists on having pasta and gravy (the rest of the world call it tomato sauce.)  It is a tradition she say that has been in her family and one of the customs that were brought from Sicily and there was no need to change regardless of where she lived.  In fact she has started a little cottage industry selling the “gravy” to the occasional visitor and trapper that stumble by now and then.  I have suggested she open up a restaurant for Sunday meals and we could advertise it via the rounds in the community made by Big Bear, but as of yet she has declined to be a restaurateur.

She irons by a heated iron from the stove, bought a book on how to repair the generator, fixes anything else that may need it or she thinks needs it, and keeps the cabin clean and organized.  When I come home in the evening there is always hot tea, biscuits and a bottle of home made wine she makes from the berries that she trades for her sauce and or a glass of beer she seems to brew up out of no where.  She refuses to sell or give away the alcohol because alcohol and most natives do not mix.  “Besides,” she said one day, “Our family has not been bootleggers since Uncle Al died.”  She is a little vague as to who Uncle Al was and I fear to ask.

She does a lot more but it can all be summed by stating that she is truly a renaissance woman of the first degree.  If it were not for her, life would be a little less rewarding in our little cabin in the snowy woods of central Alaska.  Salute.   

North in Alaska

North in Alaska -

Last Tuesday I got an emergency telegram (yes they still use them in this location of the frozen north) delivered by none other than Big Bear.  Not only is Big Bear the local mail man for the district but also the Western Union representative, UPS and Fed X delivery man, and CEO of the local Welcome Wagon, all of which he takes very seriously. 

After signing for my telegram, which Big Bear said was a strict rule, he stood there waiting for what I could only could discern was a tip.  After forking over a couple of dollars he immediately went to the kitchen table poured himself a cup of tea and helped himself to Bev’s latest concoction of home made biscuits that today were laced with Italian cheese, onions and garlic. “Quite tasty,” he said through a mouth full.

The telegram was from the School District central office informing me that I would be audited by the Alaskan State Educational Department concerning the progress of my students.  The individual would be arriving around 9 o’clock Tuesday.  It was 9:15, it was already Tuesday and I mentioned as such to Big Bear.  “He is waiting in the sled.” Big Bear said. 

I went to the door and yelled for the state representative to come in.  “Hello,” he said, “My name is Horace Mann.”  I looked at him with a blank stare.  “I know, I get that a lot.  May I sit down so we can proceed?”

He spread out some papers on the table and went over each one of my students progress reports and informed me that all seemed to be going well and in fact because of the No Child Left Behind law they all were to receive their High School Diplomas immediately.  “In fact, that is really why I am here.”  He then presented me with all the diplomas.  I told him that I was surprised but he said they had done so well on the state high school equivalent exams that it was felt that it was a waste of time and money to continue their secondary education given the fact that they had mastered all the criteria that the state had considered necessary to be judged a high school graduate.  He also gave me applications for the University of Alaska, Fairbanks.  He also gave me an application so I might apply for the position of University Coordinator for the region I found myself living in.  He said it was not uncommon for one person to hold two jobs in the educational field in this part of the state. 

 I seriously doubted they all would or wanted to go to college and informed his as such and I asked why would the local school district keep me as an employee if I had no more students?  “Because some one has to keep track of the progress of the Finks.” He said.

To me that sounded ludicrous because if there was one family and children in the area that did not need my assistance it was the Finks.  They had a good system going and by all accounts their children had and were doing well.  But who was I to second guess the decisions of our government, especially since it was about education and I had almost doubled my salary. 

I filled out my application and Mr. Mann left but not until he had eaten three of Bev’s biscuits and pocketed two for the trip back to where ever he came from.

The next day I sat out to deliver the news, diplomas, and university applications to my students and informed each nothing was going to change really just more of the same but perhaps at a higher level and I would not come by as often.  They were more responsible for their learning than they had been in the past I informed them.  To my surprise each and every one of the students immediately filled out their application, even Jimmy Green. 

On my way back to the cabin I thought I ought to go by the Fink residence and inform them of the new situation.  Mrs. Fink seemed un phased and Mr. Fink said he would welcome my increased visitations.

So now it is Friday morning and I have a ton of stuff to prepare for next week.  I would not want my first day as a college professor, so to speak, to be spoiled by being unprepared for class Monday.

North to Alaska - The Magic of the Map

When I confronted Big Bear about the strange and mysterious map given to me by Uncle Frank he just smiled and said, “I wondered when you would ask.”

He went on to give me an explanation that even now I don’t fully comprehend.

“Years ago, so long ago that no one knows when, a Raven, and an Eagle decided that Man never new exactly where he was going when he would leave home to search for food.  Since Man did not look upon them as food they decided to help him find what he needed.  They visited Man one day and offered to take him to where ever he wanted to go to find food.  They realized however Man, although he knew what he wanted, did not know how to get there.  So the Eagle and the Raven made him a map out of Otter skin.  They magically placed paths and trails on the map to a constant food supply, the caribou.  It was even mor magical that the map would change when different migration paths of herds changed. The paths and trails continued to change as need and Man never went hungry again.  Soon however although full and content with food, Man became one dimensional.  He only thought of food and began not to be Man at all.  As one of your spiritual leaders once said, Man does not live by bread alone, it the case up here - caribou.  So they added to the map trails and paths that lead him to those things that enriched his life.  Not only was he now able fill his stomach but he also filled his mind with sites, sights, and sounds that he might have normally missed.  When you came here you told me one evening that you wanted the total experience.  If it were not for the map would you have come across some of the things that the map has led you?  The map also works as a magnet to some extent.  It brings people to you that you might not have normally met.”

“Well that is all well and good,” I responded, “But you are expecting me to believe in magic.  You have not explained how the map works or how it got to me.”

“It works because it works.  It is what it is.  Are there not things you believe in that you cannot explain but know them to be the truth?  That map was given to you because you came here.  You needed it.  Uncle Frank was just the vessel that delivered it to you. You were a lost person and because of the map you are now found.  Just accept and move on.  Keep in mind that we all are the sum totals of our unique experiences.  They make us what and who we are.”

Like I said I am not sure what I understand or don’t understand about Big Bears explanation.  I am sure he understands it but I am not sure I ever will but then if I did perhaps the mystery would be lost and my participation cancelled.  If you understood the magician’s tricks, no matter how much you beg to be provided the ‘how did you’s’ would you really enjoy it as much.  Probably not.

It is time for me to plan my next trip to visit my charges, those who depend on me for their education.  I certainly depend on them. 

North to Alaska - The Map

It is about time I let you all know about the animal skin map I received from Uncle Frank.

I have mentioned many times that he gave me the map and have indicated that the trails always seem to take me places that are, well how do I say it, a little out of the ordinary at best and down right strange at the least.  I have also mentioned that no matter where I am or what trail I take back to our cabin the trip never takes more than 45 minutes.  It might have taken me an hour or two to get to where ever I was going, but it never took more than the 45 min. to get back.

There are two things that I have not mentioned however and that is that I found out that if I said out loud where I wanted to go before leaving my cabin and then unfold the map, one of the many trails would be highlighted for me to follow and if I some how ventured off the trail, like making a wrong turn, the highlighted area would start blinking and keep blinking until I rectified my route.  If that were not strange enough the place or places I thought of going, or mentioned I was going before opening the map, would appear as points on the map clearly labeled.  If I failed to do so, mention my destination out loud, or just opened the map for no apparent reason, the map would be blank with only a mishmash of black lines intertwined atop of the parchment.

This is the first time I have mentioned to anyone about my observations because at first I thought I was suffering from delirium due to the isolation  and later more concerned that I would possibly be thought of as mad and fired from my position as the itinerant teacher, a position and job that I have become fond of and provides Bev and I a life we have learned to cherish.

However I do have an inquisitive mind and I will track down the mystery of the map.  Big Bear is coming by tomorrow and I will start my investigation with him.

North to Alaska -Happy New Year

We celebrated New Years Eve one day ahead of time this year.  It is sort of a tradition in these parts and although I have had the reasoning explained to me several times I am still not sure why.  Something about sun and earth spirits, along with ravens and eagles.  Big Bear tells me that my western thinking single track mind wouldn't get it, so I stopped trying to figure it out. 

I was just settling down for my mid morning nap when there came that annoying knock at the door.  I knew I would have to get up and answer it because Bev was checking the trap lines for rabbits or other eatables.  It was Big Bear.  He had just returned from Hawaii and wondered if anyone had invited Bev and I to the New Year party being held at Jumpster Hill.  "It is a traditional event and something I think you ought to see.  If you would come as my guest I would certainly appreciate it."   Well how could I not attend.  I told him that Bev and I would meet him at the cross roads just at the base of Jumpster Hill provided Bev had enough time to clean the animals she might have caught.  If not I would be there anyway.

Luckily Bev only caught one rabbit and she made quick work of that so after a dinner of rabbit ravioli with a creamy Alfredo sauce we jumped on our four wheeler along with Ray, our pet raven ornamenting the hood and off we went towards Jumpster Hill using the ever ready animal skin map as a guide.  The map was getting down right spooky but I have not mentioned it to anyone so far, but perhaps I will start the new year off by talking to Big Bear about it.

After meeting up with Big Bear at the cross roads we ventured the short distance to the base of the hill.  A crowd had gathered and everyone seemed to be in a good mood.  At the top of the hill was a giant snow ball with two long arm type of apparatuses protruding from each side parallel to the ground. 

It was still an hour away from midnight so we busied ourselves with cordiality, snacks provided by the locals, cyder, tea and biscuits.  Some of the group held hands and danced around a make shift Christmas tree, others performed native dances for anyone that seemed interested, and still others took turns telling  very young audiences old stories about their ancestors and funny things some of the elders did when they were not elders.  There was no alcohol insight which was the only thing that I suppose differentiated itself from Time Square.  I must say I really enjoyed myself and Bev seemed to have a good time also.  Ray the raven just sat there on the hood of the four wheeler oblivious to the rest of us.

Just as midnight approached two men with torches sat the arms protruding from the giant snow ball ablaze and with a slight shove rolled it down the hill.  The crowd at the base of the hill scattered while chanting the countdown to midnight starting with "10."  Just as "1" was yelled out the snowball exploded starting a small conflagration.  Now and then someone from the crowd would run up to the blaze and throw something on it.  What they were throwing were not logs but different items like paper, clothes, and other items that were not readily identifiable but burned none the less.  Each time someone would throw something on the fire the rest of the crowd would cheer and urge those around them to burn something.

People starting yelling at Bev and me to participate but not knowing what type of thing I was supposed to throw I just stood there for awhile.  Eventually the pressure and clatter from the crowd became so great I took one of Bev's biscuits from my pocket, which I always carried with me, and through it on the fire.  To make sure everyone one knew I was participating I tossed it high in the air.  On the biscuits decent Ray the raven swooped from the sky out of nowhere it seemed and snatched the biscuit out of the air.  Everyone got a good laugh and I thought perhaps I would have to figure out something else to burn but as I was about to throw one of my scarfs into the flame, Big Bear stopped me and said there was not need.

We all watched the fire for a minute or two and then some one started singing Auld Lang Syne in their native tong.  After the rendition we all hugged the nearest to us, wished all a happy new year, and headed home.

I asked Big Bear on the way back to our cabin what all the burning was about.  He said people burned things that represented what they were giving up in the new year.  They were symbolic gestures like writing a persons name on a piece of paper who you no longer wanted to be mad at, of sometimes people through tobacco, or things that represented bad habits, "things like that," he said.  

"What about my biscuit?" 

"Well," he replied, "It didn't burn so I guess Bev will have to  keep making them and you eating them the rest of the year."

I was glad of that because she made a very good biscuit.  I looked over to Ray the raven and nodded a thanks.  I am not sure a raven can smile but Ray seemed to come very close.

North to Alaska - Christmas Eve

The afternoon before Christmas was going to be a relaxing time for me.  I had just finished trapping a bunch of field mice that for some reason or another could not understand that the inside of our cabin was not a field and I was looking forward to a couple of hours of uninterrupted snoozing.  It could have been a very relaxing time due to the fact that Bev had adorned the fire place with stockings for "Santa" to fill and I could  envision Christmas cookies dancing around in my head given the smell coming from the oven.  I knew I would not be interrupted by the Saturday mail delivery because Big Bear had gone to Hawaii for the holidays as all true Alaskan do.

Just as I was drifting off to nod land there arose such a clatter in front of the place I sprang from the couch to see what in the world was going on.  As I through open the door I saw Clem Moore chasing letters and packages all over the snow covered ground due to the fact that his sled had turned over.  The letters were flapping around like dry leaves during a hurricane.  I immediately figured out that Clem had taken over in Big Bear's absence, his sled had turned over and the contents of the mail sack had spilled.  He was a little round fellow but he was very lively and quick and I was impressed by his agility to keep his pipe lit. 

The reason for the sled turn over was because his sled dogs (oh yes, Clem is a purest.  He said all deliveries if delivered by a dog sled should be pulled by sled dogs) got a little rambunctious when they sighted a dear or two along the path.  The lead dog dashed off towards the dancing dear and the alpha male of the second order pranced right behind them.  One dog was a little vixen about the whole thing and refused to move causing the other dogs to fly up like a comet and the sled blitzing downward splintering like cupids arrow.  Clem was lucky he didn't get his rosy cheeks pierced by the splinters. 

I immediately started helping him gather the letters and packages.  We took them to the door through them inside and went out to untangle the dogs.  That didn't take as long as I had thought and luckily so. 

In our exuberance in throwing the mail sack inside we through to hard and the edge of the mail sack was in the fire place.  The canvas mail sack was smoldering and steaming and due to the sack being cold and damp did not burn.   Recipients of the letters were lucky because nothing was destroyed,Clem too because he would not lose his job because and me, for I could continue to have a place to live and would not have to try and explain to Bev why her house had burned down after she returned from gathering fresh water down by the lake. 

We both rushed in pulled the bag away from the fire.  He sorted through the bag and found the packages addressed to Bev and I and went straight to work filling the stockings on the fire place.  I asked him if he wanted some cookies and he replied he would much rather have biscuits but would gladly accept some to eat on his way.  He had many places yet to visit before his shift was over.

We walked to his sled made some minor repairs, wished each other well and off he sped through the dawn and the thistle.  He did turn around and yelled,  "Happy Christmas to all," and to him I yelled back "and to all a good night."

North to Alaska - One for the Money

One afternoon I was returning from Jimmy Green’s cabin, naturally taking a different trail depicted on Uncle Frank’s animal skin map, when, not to my great surprise I came across, what can only be described as a log chapel.  Of course I stopped to pay my respects to whoever had gone to all the trouble to build such a place this side of no where.

The chapel door was unlocked so I let myself in.  The sanctuary was very small so I immediately noticed a man sitting in the front pew crying.  I was sort of embarrassed and so as not to embarrass him started my retreat back through the door when he stood up turned to me and said, “Welcome friend.”

The old hymn Amazing Grace started softly playing in the back ground from speakers that I could not ascertain the location of.  He walked up to me, stuck out his hand, and said, “Hello, I am Aaron, you must be the new teacher.”  He invited me for a cup to tea.

I accepted of course because it was cold outside and I had previously turned over my four wheeler.  Getting it righted had shaken me up and I needed a place to recuperate, and besides another code of the road in these parts is that you always accept an invite, fitting in is always on my mind.

His living quarters at the rear of the chapel were nice but small which seemed even smaller because a great big hound dog was curled up in one corner near the potbellied stove.  He poured us both a cup of tea and sat out some biscuits. 

“Nice little place you got here.” I said.   “Yes,” he replied.  “The stove keeps things cozy and warm and I feel a burning love for this old place.  When it gets real toasty and reminds me of my place in Kentucky when I would sit on my porch and watch the blue moon go through its phases.

I asked him if he was a preacher and he responded that we were all preachers but we all preached different things.  The hound dog came over to the table where we were sitting and as I reached down to pet it I noticed Aaron’s boots.  They were the brightest blue I had ever seen and made from a material that I guessed was suede.

He asked me a lot of questions about who, where, why and how, the usual stuff strangers ask and then it was my turn to ask him a few.

To sum up his answers:  He had been a G. I. in the army but didn’t like it because it made him feel blue all the time and he did not like the fact that many of the guys were not nice to him.  They were jealous he guessed.  He told the soldiers not to be cruel to him but men being what they are they continued devilishness but tried to disguise it with humor  He was able to disguise his own feeling of hurt and tried to keep a tender love in his heart as all good Christians should.

When he left the army he drifted to New Orleans and stayed with a Creole family named King and worked on a shrimp boat.  He didn’t like New Orleans much because he always thought there was something strange about a city built below the water line and always was concerned that the rocks holding back the water would one day give way and the only place he could go to escape the flood was atop the old jail house near the Trame district.  He sort of liked fishing though so he hitched hiked to California and worked his way to Hawaii figuring there would be a lot of commercial fishing there.  He was mistaken of course and found himself as a hula instructor at a The Rock Café after it was discovered he could move his hips around better than most of the Hawaiian girls. 

A promoter saw him and signed him to a contract to play a three week gig in Las Vegas, all expenses paid and for a healthy sum of money.  "Viva," he thought, which he explained is a slang Creole word for great.  He soon found out why they called Las Vegas sin city.  He got involved with one of the show girls who he could not help falling in love with, but who eventually broke his heart.  Her little sister tried to comfort him and after he made her promise not to do what her big sister had done, he gave her a ring and a chain to hang around her neck.  That didn’t work out either so he decided to head to Alaska. 

He worked on a fishing boat for awhile and with the money he had made in Las Vegas, that had lasted three years after the original three week contract, and two very successful fishing seasons he moved to his present location, built this little chapel of his and finally found peace.  He felt very fortunate not to live in a ghetto, enjoyed the early morning rains of summer and the always white Christmases that were never blue even though he spent them by himself.  He said he could get moody now and then but then there was always someone stopping by and it happened just often enough to make him realize how foolish he was to rush in to a depressing mood.

We finished our tea and as I was leaving he said for me to be careful and gave me a good luck charm shaped like a flaming star to protect me on the trails he said.  “Thank-ya, thank ya very much for stopping.” He said while shanking my hand.

As I was mounting my four wheeler for the two hour trip back to my cabin I felt more than heard my own voice say, “Conley has left the building.”