Yuletide in Skagway

Keeping true to the original intent of this blog, which was to tell people who don't live here what it's like to live here in wintertime, I thought I'd post some highlights of the holiday season in Skagway.

I've never lived anywhere that was so festive for Christmas - except, maybe, when I effectively "lived" in the mall for those few years I worked retail in college. but that wasn't festive in the same way. That was materialistic festivity rooted in the desire of businesses to capitalize on marketing schemes and get out of the red. Here, the joy comes from a sense of community and somewhat genuine holiday spirit accented by a lot of drinking of holiday spirits.

So, here are a few of the Yuletide festivities that I've taken part in over the years.

Santa Train
Probably one of the more unique celebrations that Skagway puts on. As you may or may not know, Skagway is a tourist town. The main tourist attraction is the White Pass train ride which goes for a few hours up into BC and the Yukon. The train used to run year-round and carry freight and passengers before the road came in; now it only runs tourists in the summertime.

Except for one day in winter when the train runs up the hill through the snow in early December. They clear the tracks ahead of time up to a certain point and then it's on... Santa is on the train and there are both children's and adult cars. The children's cars are where Santa mingles with the kids and does all that cutesy Christmas stuff (actually, I have no idea, because I've never been on the kids' cars). The adult cars are where the rest of us wait for Santa to join us for drinks. (Someone looking suspiciously like Santa is often known to be seen at the local watering hole afterward, spreading more holiday cheer.)

The first year I went, Stimee and I brought the makings for purple motherfuckers, a mixed drink I used to have all the time in Albany. We shared them with everyone and had a lot of other drinks from other people. Last year when I went I one-upped my purple motherfuckers. I had hot fireball cider, made to order. I brought the Jet Boil camp stove, cider packets, water, Fireball, spices and cups in a picnic basket and made people hot cider to keep them warm on the trip up the hill and back. Both times were pretty awesome.

Yuletide Ball
I only went once, last year. It wasn't the most thrilling thing ever. The theme last year was some kind of tropical thing, so Stimee and I got all festive. We wore red union suits underneath beachwear. It was pretty fun. There was a band and food but I think we were just there too early.

Tree Lighting
The Christmas tree that gets lit for the tree lighting is on an empty lot on 5th. It's not a spruce tree that gets cut down for this purpose; it's a tree that just grows there. I've gone to the tree lighting at least twice that I can think of. Everyone stands around in the street while a group sings Christmas songs in preparation for the tree being lit. The pivotal moment comes when the fire truck, decked out in holiday lights, comes up and off jumps Santa. He says hi to all the kids and then gives the OK to light the lights on the Christmas tree.

After the tree is lit, there's a holiday concert that happens at the Park Service auditorium on 2nd. Last year, it was my full intention to go to said concert with my girlfriend. We wandered over there but when we arrived found that the Park Service auditorium was a lot more crowded than we felt like dealing with. So, next best thing... we went to the liquor store across the street, got a couple big cans of Foster's (why Foster's? I'm not entirely sure. But it's the only time I've ever drank Foster's, to my knowledge) and sat out behind the Park Service building by the train tracks in the freezing cold, drinking, smoking cigarettes, and being very very merry.

Eagles Christmas pageant
This tradition was started by the Arctic Brotherhood around the turn of the century. It's carried on to this day by the Eagles, a fraternal order that, unlike the AB, survived.

Because the kids don't get enough Santa, the Eagles makes sure they get to see him on Christmas Eve. All the kids in town get to go up on stage, meet Santa, and get a present from him. It's pretty cute. I only went once, back when I spent a lot of time with a family who had the best 5-year-old ever. It was fun to watch.

Christmas Eve
My favorite holiday celebration in Skagway happens on Christmas Eve. This year I missed it on account of work, but my liver is probably better off for it.

On Christmas Eve, all the businesses in town open their doors to holiday revelry by providing free food and booze and camaraderie. The town crawl may start at either end of Broadway, but the venues are varied. The book store, the Mountain Shop, the hardware store, and the grocery store are the ones that stand out the most in my mind. Beers, egg nog, margaritas... cheese plates, veggies and dip, finger foods... and drunks. Everyone stumbles from one business to the next, getting progressively drunker and drunker as they go. Inevitably most of us will end up at one bar or another at the end of the night, insuring that Christmas morning includes one hell of a hangover.

This year I didn't do any of them. But when I get off work in an hour, midnight will mark the start of Christmas. In other parts of the country people spend Christmas with their dysfunctional families. Since I am 4,000 miles away from mine, I will get to ring in Christmas at midnight with my much more dysfunctional Skagway family at the Pizza Station.

Around the holidays it becomes increasingly more evident how many ways my Skagway family is not entirely unlike a real family. I guess there'a little more choice involved in who you associate with here when it comes to the in-quotation-marks "family," but when it all comes down to it we're all pretty much stuck with each other regardless, just like a real family. And there really aren't very many people I'd prefer to be stuck with at the holidays.

women of influence in my life in Skagway

When faced with the question "who have been the biggest influences in your life," I realized that all of them that I could come up with have been the significant men in my life. Is it possible that the shortcomings that have led me down rabbit holes and into despair have been due to the fact that I put too much emphasis on being influenced by the men, and not enough on being influenced by women?

As I try and think about it, I have a hard time coming up with very many female role models in my life (apart from the obvious - mom, of course you are the exception). All of my heroes have always been men, starting and ending of course with my big brother. When I was a kid, the people I strove to be in games and wanted to be when I grew up were all men - Indiana Jones; the brothers Hanson (make fun of me all you want, I really don't care); Beethoven... as I grew older and started having real ambitions beyond pipe dreams and make-believe, my heroes were still men.

Dead rock stars topped the list of people who inspired me musically and fashion-wise (one need only remember the bright red leather pants or the blue suede shirt with billowing sleeves to see how I was trying to be Freddie Mercury, once I discovered him). Female rock stars never appealed to me. None of their voices, apart from Joan Jett, really had that edge that I so desperately wanted and so blatantly lack. Apart from Veruca Salt, no women played rock guitar. Female rock stars were all actually pop stars or folk singers. There's a time and a place for that, as well, but I never idolized them as much as I did their male counterparts.

Writers seem to be the same. I fell in love with the poet E. A. Robinson and his good friend Robert Frost, finding Sylvia Plath boring. The writers who have influenced me and made me want to write have all been male as far as I can remember.

And then there's the movie characters I'd relate with the most. Always men. When asked which female movie character I would most like to be, I come up staggeringly short. I cannot relate with female film characters. While I'm sure feminist film critics would argue that that's because Hollywood only creates one-dimensional females who have no depth of character, that actually isn't the case anymore. Women in movies represent a vast range of types, especially when you start to look at independent movies. But if asked what movie character I would most like to be, it would be Loki, or Jeremiah Johnson, or Russell from Almost Famous.

Of course, it's increasingly common for women to fall into this same pattern of tomboyish tendencies, especially the women that I associate with. But so many of these types turn out to be independent and strong, as influenced by the independent, strong women in pop culture and their lives that help them become the well-adjusted and good-head-on-your-shoulders types that they are. I'm starting to think that, although the man who influenced me the most, my brother, has been a positive influence, most of them haven't. I'm starting to figure things out a little bit...

When I look back at people who have come and gone in and out of my life, the ones who have had the most dramatic effects have been the men who have done me wrong. Maybe that's why I live with the mindset that I do. All the control in who I've become has been placed in the hands of people that I shouldn't have given it to in the first place. Instead of giving that influence to the women I aspire to be, I give it to the men I aspire to be with.

And that's certainly been the story of my life in Alaska, as well as Albany. Come to think of it, I remember a very depressed and indignant few years of high school after my first romance fell to pieces after a year. And maybe that's why I've always had mostly male friends - I'd rather be surrounded by men who can validate or shit all over my self-worth as opposed to women who can't generally give me the type of attention that I look for.

But (since my blog is ostensibly about my winters in Alaska, I should bring my 3 AM stream of consciousness around to that, I guess) there've been a lot of women I've come to know in Skagway that, as I start to look forward instead of backward for the first time in my life, I would really like to be more like in so many ways. I see women around me who, whether they're in relationships or not, don't define themselves entirely by the men they're involved with. I see women who have families but who haven't lost themselves or their sense of identity to those conventional units. I see women who run businesses and have successful careers, even small-town careers. More than all that, I see women who are single and not afraid to be, not just looking for the next potential Prince Charming to save them from themselves.

All of the pivotal moments in my life can be directly attributed to one man or another. Even my journey to Alaska in May of 2007 was spawned by the guitarist that made me feel so trapped in Albany that I couldn't breathe.

But I'd like to think that my outlook can still change. My Skagway adventure began with a ferry ride from Juneau. At the ferry terminal in Juneau, as I stood eagerly awaiting what epic tales may lie ahead in the story of my life, I met my first Skagway girlfriend. She's still in my life, and, now that I think about it, one of my pivotal Skagway in winter moments came when she had to be medevacced out of town a few Decembers ago and I thought I might lose her. I don't know when I've ever been so scared.

Two summers ago, two of my girlfriends and I embarked on our first Slow Girls adventure - so named for the fact that we all hike slower than most and have no qualms about that. We conquered the Chilkoot together and, through cracking knees and bruised hips, were unstoppable. Slow Girls has become an institution as we go on as many adventures as possible, with misadventures ranging from porcupines to bear poles.

A few summers ago, while I was smoking with a male friend on the deck at the Brewco, a girl came up and started complimenting my friend. I inwardly rolled my eyes, thinking "Wow, look, another girl who's into Jim." As it turns out, the woman in question was not just another girl who was into one of my friends, but my future BFF (and, just because I have to mention it again, Jim's future wife).

The women I have come to be friends with in Skagway have been there in the darkest moments and in the most elated. When I was offered my first year-round job in Skagway this summer, before I was allowed to tell anyone, I got a bottle of champagne and celebrated with one of my girlfriends, the first local I told, and the first person I celebrated with. When Stimee died, the first person who came running to my aid was one of my girlfriends, who came to sit and wait for the police with me, and then went out to lunch with me. Whenever I have needed to go out and drink for celebration's sake or to drown my sorrows, I have been able to rely on my team of female comerades to accompany me. They're the ones who will cheers with me and they're the ones who will let me vent.

Since May my life has been through a lot of twists and turns I couldn't have possibly foreseen a year ago. My consciousness and mindset have been through the ringer and are still in the process of attempting to come out on top. My mind has rolled through a million different changes, and I've pondered how to become a better, happier person. I think tonight I came to the realization that allowing myself to be solely influenced by the men in my life has been to my detriment; I am surrounded by enough women with traits I wish I had that I should give them some of the power.

2012 in 30 bullet points. The positives only.

Because it's easy to focus on the negative things that happen to you when you're still recovering from them, when people post facebook statuses including questions like "what are you thankful for" and "what are you grateful for in 2012", sometimes you want to punch them in the face. But. At the same time, though my mindset has been far from thankful or optimistic at all recently, I decided to reflect on what's gone on in 2012 that I've been grateful for, independent of and concurrent with the things that went horribly wrong.

I know it's a little early. Theoretically, this is a blog post that should be written on December 31st, with the onset of the new year. At the same time, there is that omnipresent possibility that in a few hours we'll all get blown up by a meteor or something, so, with the solstice upon us, the days getting longer so long as we live to see more days, I thought it was fitting to think about my 2012.

I think rather than esoteric streams of consciousness I will write this blog in a logical progression. Bullet points. Here we go. Things that happened in 2012 to be grateful for.

January
1. The best New Year's Eve party I've ever been to in my life. I'm not at liberty to discuss certain aspects of this party. All that aside, we (Stimee, Adam, Brady and I) arrived around 11 PM and left at 4:30 AM. It was an outdoor party at Marsh Lake (Yukon) with a massive fire, bands (one of them played in the time signature of 11/4, step aside Pink Floyd with your amateur 7/8), food, and drinks. And, unlike any other Northern party I've ever been to in my LIFE, no one was sloppy obnoxious drunk.

2. The river froze over enough in 2012 that I could participate in my personal favorite hike in Skagway - the hike on the river. I have found no hike to be more calming and adventurous at the same time.

February
3. I participated in the Valentines Day dance at the Elks by playing bass and piano with the band. It was a good time. It'd been years since i'd openly participated in a group (the last time was Goat Stick and we only played 3 songs). It got things moving for me, musically, that hadn't been stirred in a long time. Namely, it made me remember that at one time I used to like doing that.

March
4. I started babysitting for Adalynn in February or March. Best kid ever, that's all. No more elaborating really needs to happen here.

5. Tomorrow, When the War Began was made into a movie, which I acquired in March. I also re-read the book series and introduced a lot of friends to it.

6. Choose Respect Skagway happened and was an overwhelming success to a much greater extent than it was in 2011. Although I co-chaired the event this year, Kathy had to leave town at the last minute. So on top of giving a speech I also got to emcee the event. The support for the cause (cracking down on domestic violence and sexual assault locally) was incredible.

April
7. My nephew was born.

8. I spent time with my family and friends on the east coast (as a result of #7), who put on a wedding shower and a bachelorette party for me. I rode a roller coaster for the first time since before I moved to Alaska. Although the sense of impending breakup overshadowed the whole trip, I witnessed the miracle of life and the miracle of love.

9. I moved into Deano's boxcar. What a relief. What a happy home that was for me and Merlin.

May
10. The Avengers. Saw it in the theater twice on opening day.

11. I reconnected with an old crop of summer friends and connected for the first time with the new ones. Since I was newly single I spent an awful lot of time with my summer friends and made connections that will last a lifetime.

12. I won the costume contest at trivia night. Small, but if you are aware of how competetive I am, yeah, it was awesome.

13. I played with 4 Over 50 featuring Steve Hites at the Skagway Reunion, my first real bass gig since Five Til Midnight. What a rush.

June
14. 80s Night: For the first time in my life I was a part of a social setting that involved little else besides dancing. in fact, I danced for about six hours straight, in between drinking and smoking. And it was six of the best hours of my summer.

15. I was offered a year-round full-time job in Skagway. Did you catch that? Because I've been trying for five years. And I've been applying for every single job that has been posted. And I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it would never happen for me. I had been imagining that moment for so long. I cried.

16. My parents came for their third visit. Many adventures were had, and they got to experience the 4th of July festivities.

July
17. I got second place in the arm wrestling on 4th of July.

18. I hung out with the pipe band from Whitehorse, drinking and playing music, getting a feel for the Scottish games i've been missing all these years.

August 19. I moved into a new house. A real house. Back at the north end of town where I belong.

20. I bought a van. I took said van on many adventures.

21. I spent a sunny, gorgeous day on the rocks by Smuggler's watching whales and eagles with Philip. The whales were basically swimming circles around us.

22. Lynx and Northern lights with Stephanie.

September 23. An unprecedented appreciation for friends and family, biological and otherwise. I never could have expected how much support I could have had during the otherwise miserable month of September.

October
24. My brother visited Alaska for the first time. Words can't really describe how much amazing came from that.

25. I started writing songs again for the first time in ages.

26. Harley Quinn for Halloween. The reason I am thankful for this is because I am thankful for the less-than-ten people who recognized and knew who Harley Quinn is.

November
27. Election. I am thankful for the election and grateful for its results.

28. EL MERCADO!! Now every Saturday I can go out and get tacos. In Skagway. In winter. Unprecedented.

29. Being brought Thanksgiving dinner at work.

December
30. Jim and Katie restored my faith in humanity. OK, not entirely, but they sure made me feel like love actually does exist.

Falling in love with/in Skagway

As I now find myself in the midst of my longest stretch of singlehood in Skagway (up until recently, the combined total of 5 and a half years in Skagway was about 2 months single), I've been reflecting on relationships (and lack thereof) here and how everything has fit together for me in the past.

I remember reading one of those magazines where girls write in with their dating problems. One girl wrote in about how all these men turned out all wrong for her and/or broke up with her. The advice columnist bluntly responded by saying "the only constant in these relationships is you." Pretty obvious, but not always relatable when you're in the middle of a situation.

I've been thinking about that column lately (as i always do after epic relationship fails) and, while I've drawn a lot of conclusions about myself and life as a result, I've also been wondering (as so many of us do) if my little town is really the best place to seek out and pursue romantic relationships. A summer friend told me that I should get out and go somewhere that has a bigger pool to pick from. I'm inclined to agree, and if I ever decide I want long-term romantic relationships again I may do that.

My decision that Skagway is not a good place to find a suitable partner for myself was highlighted by a delightful soundtrack including, most recently, Pink Floyd and Def Leppard. I loudly proclaimed that all the men in my past were "just another brick in the wall." Yes, i know that's not what the song actually means, but that was my interpretation after "i don't need no arms around me." (Which, for the record, I don't.)

I had a pretty good spread the other night with a few of my favorite things: While my dog camped out at my feet, I enjoyed a shepherd's pie (unfortunately it was out of a box), a Rolling Rock (once again unavailable at any bar in town), a puzzle (this one is cheesy - unicorns and rainbows) and a classic rock hit list (Def Leppard's greatest hits). Not surprisingly, I was really feeling "Love Bites" to the extent that I pulled up the lyrics online and listened to it over and over again. After exhausting that track to its max potential, I switched over to my personal favorite, in the same vein, "Bringin on the Heartbreak."

It's one of my favorite songs to sing at karaoke because of the inherent sexiness of it. Sadly, most karaoke guys don't have it in their collections (in my experience) so I only get to rock out to it with the original track. As I assembled pink and purple fragments of unicorns on my dining room table I turned the speakers on my computer up as loud as they go and sang to my heart's content - over and over and over. Because sometimes when you're really feeling it, that's what you have to do to express yourself and get it all out of your system.

Drowning my bitchy mood with Rolling Rock and the occasional cigarette (even though "i don't need no drugs to calm me") I was caught off guard when I heard my phone ringing. The music was so loud I could barely hear it. Sadly, in spite of the mood I was in - down with love, men are assholes, etc - when my phone rang there were a number of men who jumped into my brain as being people I would love to be calling me in that moment. That irritates the hell out of me.

It was not actually anyone from my binder full of men calling at that moment. What caught me off-guard was that it was Katie. She and I communicate primarily via text and facebook message when we're not talking in person (when we're in person we communicate primarily via sarcasm, innuendo and bad lip reading). Phone calls are rare and usually warrant worry that an emergency is imminent.

"Did you get my text?" Katie asked. She sounded excited.

"No," I said, explaining that my music had been too loud to hear anything and that I barely even heard my phone go off.

"Well," Katie continued, "I sent you a text asking if you wanted to see a picture of our first Christmas tree. We just put up our first Christmas tree so I was going to see if you wanted to see a picture of it. But then instead of sending you a picture of our Christmas tree I was going to send you a picture of my engagement ring."

And there went Def Leppard.

There went all of it, actually. There went my Alanis-Morisette-circa-Jagged-Little-Pill mindset, there went my recently held belief that anyone getting married is an idiot, there went my cynical exterior and anger toward the institution of romance itself for what it's put me through. And suddenly the soft gooey center was back out again.

I used to cry in movies whenever anyone got married. Whenever I watched the Grey's Anatomy episode (yeah, shut up) where Alex and Izzie get married I always cried, every single time. Anytime anyone went up the aisle or even got engaged the waterworks were on. Since May, when my own wedding was cancelled (another one), and particularly since that robot stage of grief started in September, movies don't do that for me anymore. With the exception of a very weepy Ashley during the end of "Father of the Bride," weddings mean Jack Schitt to me nowadays. Since I decided to no longer plan on getting married it just hasn't been that meaningful.

But i freaked the hell out when Katie announced over the phone that Jim had proposed. They've been planning on it for a while, like most people nowadays before the official rigamarole with the ring and the knee and all happens. But for some reason, the ritualistic action of making it official in their case turned this grinch's heart three sizes bigger. I turned giddy on the phone, hardly able to contain my excitement. Finally it dawned on me and I told Katie : "I've been so cynical about relationships lately, and hate this kind of stuff, but I'm actually really happy for you guys. I'm not even faking it because I love you guys so much."

Well, I guess that settles that. Skagway, as it turns out, may be a decent place for other people to find relationships - just not so much for me. Which all comes back to that advice column. If the constant of Skagway isn't to blame... then the only other constant is me.

At this point, it doesn't really matter, I guess. Now that I'm no longer looking for long-term relationships of any kind, let alone the kind that end effectively with a white dress and a life sentence (shit, sorry, did i just say that?), it's not really important to me to figure out what I've done wrong across the board. Actually, that's not entirely true. What I've done wrong across the board has been a pretty simple act: what I've done wrong that's helped result in choosing the wrong partners has been my age-old Disney Princess desire to do nothing in life other than get married. Ironic, I guess.

All of that aside, there's nowhere better to fall in love than Skagway. The first time I fell in love in Skagway it was concurrent to falling in love WITH Skagway. That was a simpler time. I sometimes wish that I had neither fallen in love in Skagway nor with it. If I had just spent a summer here and moved on, things would have been so much different. A year and a half of my life (or 3 years of my life, if you include the prison time that resulted from our relationship and until the end of which I wouldn't really be free of him) was wasted on Allen and, one could argue, five and a half have been wasted in Skagway. What have I really gotten out of it? Not much that's tangible. A lot of grief over a lot of shit hitting a lot of fans. A lot of attachments that broke apart just as suddenly as they formed. A lot of scars that run too deep to erase, that i'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Hey you, out there beyond the wall, breaking bottles in the hall! Can you help me?

Today an ex from many, many years ago dropped by my house to bring a box full of my things over. He and I did not end on good terms, in any of the numerous times that we broke up. It's only been recently that we even acknowledge each other's presence with a head nod or smile. I couldn't believe it. My favorite dress. My favorite jacket. My watch. A lot of other articles of clothing. It baffled me that he brought them back. I had just assumed that, after us not ending well, he'd tossed them in the incinerator. But no, he told me, he didn't want to do that because he thought there might be some sentimental value in something I'd left at his house so many years ago.

I'm still wondering if there is any sentimental value in any of it - the clothes I got back from my ex, the memories I've made in Skagway, the five-and-a-half-year's worth of notebooks of memoirs I've compiled in living here since 07. Was any of it really worth it, in the long run? Skagway, just like this enigmatic entity known as "love", has given me some of the best and worst times of my life. They've both had me walking on air and they've both drawn and quartered my spirit. Every rose has its thorn, but is it really worth cutting your finger so many times just to have something nice to look at for a little while til it dies in the vase?

I guess when I start to forget about all of that, there's people like Jim and Katie to bring me back.

The fact that I'm listening to "The Wall" as I write this may make it a little disjointed, disconnected, and I'm fairly certain it all comes together in my head a little tighter than it actually does on your computer screen.

Different - everywhere except skagway

A very cliche struggle that I've had throughout my life is the fact that i'm different from other people. I don't mean it in the way that Ariel felt like a fish out of water because she wanted to be someone else; i don't mean it in the way that Belle was the only literate person in a town full of idiots; i don't mean it in the way it's cool to be depressed and it's hip to say "no one understands me" or "i have low self-esteem." People do frequently understand me, and my self-esteem generally tends to be pretty high.

What i mean about being different is that I ascribe certain labels to myself (or they are attributed to me by forces outside of me) and as a result people tend to assume that I am the stereotype that goes along with that. I almost never am. Christian doesn't mean I dislike gay people or disbelieve evolution. (For that matter, believing in evolution doesn't make me any less of a Christian.) Pro-life doesn't mean anti-choice. Being a fan of Obama doesn't mean I support gun control. Being a smoker doesn't make me an inconsiderate jerk. Liking Grey's Anatomy doesn't make me an idiot.

(To be fair, though, i don't actually like Grey's Anatomy, i just watch it. A lot. BUt i hate it.)

Anyway, all this came to mind tonight as I was debating issues around religion in an INTP forum. My personality type is INTP, and INTPs tend to not be religious, so in these conversations among INTPs i tend to be the only person contributing who actually is religious in any way. And, because INTPs are all about logic and deduction, there is an overwhelming sense among a lot of them that anyone who has faith or religion of any kind lacks reason, intellect, and logic. It's incredibly frustrating to go up against that kind of absolute.

Because, to continue with that as an example, I happen to be religious. I'm just not most people's stereotype of what that means. Other Christians often don't see me as one of them because I don't fit their idea of what that means; non-Christians can't pigeonhole me because I often defy the negative attributes they stereotype onto Christians.

But none of these labels, stereotypes, and pigeonholes ever really caused me too many problems in Skagway the way they do everywhere else. I've been entertaining the idea of not spending the rest of my life in Skagway, but it's things like this that make that tough to think about.

I remember the moment when I realized that I could just be myself in Skagway without worrying about people's labels. I was at Moe's talking to someone who was gay. The topic of religion came up and this person asked me if I was religious. I hesitated. The person asked why. I answered with, "well, yes I am, but you're going to assume that because I'm a Christian, that I'm anti-gay."

The person I was drinking with looked at me like I had two heads. "Did you hear me say that?" No, i hadn't. I had just assumed that because so many gay people I'd known had been put off by the fact that I was Christian because they preemptively assumed it meant I thought they were sinners undeserving of basic rights.

That conversation made me realize that maybe I wouldn't have the same problems in Skagway that I've had elsewhere. Everywhere else I've been, in any kind of social circle or human construct (groups of friends; high school; college; bands; groups of co-workers; etc) I've felt like the black sheep. Before I came to Skagway I felt doomed to always be that one person who just didn't fit in anywhere else like the rest of people seem to. Then I got here and after a while started to realize that maybe this is where all the other black sheep end up.

There's just always been certain things about me, beliefs, views, opinions, past experiences, that I've been hesitant to share with people in any circles because I'm afraid that they'll automatically assume negative things about me that aren't true. (I have to face the possibility, of course, that maybe Skagway isn't any more accepting than anywhere else - maybe SKagway makes me more confident than anywhere else; maybe people care just the same amount but I care less about their reactions?) ..Anyway, there's certain things I've tended to keep to myself until I get to know someone so that I don't offend them, and so that they won't think bad things about me.

In Skagway I don't do that, though. I assert my beliefs whether or not I know the beliefs of the people around me. If they disagree, they disagree; we don't have a blowout or cease to be friends as a result. I talk openly about who I am and what I am because I honestly haven't felt like people have treated me any differently once they learn certain things about me. The only times I've ever felt judged in Skagway (SERIOUSLY judged in a way that actually matters, not judged by idiots for stupid reasons because they're gossiping and making up fake drama) have been the times that i've done things I shouldn't have.

So, when I first got to Skagway, I felt immediately like I could be who I am and not be judged for it the way people in the rest of the world seem to do. That's why I decided I wanted to live here as long as I could.

Giving thanks in Skagway

Aaron Sorkin has done me in again. he does it every time I watch the last episode of Sports Night, every time i watch the first episode of Sports Night, every time I watch the episode entitled "April is the Cruelest Month" (which was the first episode of Sports Night I ever saw) and he's now done it to me twice with the season three finale of West Wing.

It's eleven years too late for what I'm about to write to be a spoiler, so I'm not too worried about ruining it for anyone else. The first time I went through this series (I didn't make it all the way through - just the first few seasons) it was with Andy, Kerry, and Scott. This episode, along with the episode where Mrs. Landingham dies, tugged at those emotional parts of me that make me question if I'm really an INTP sometimes.

The first time I watched the series I, like the character of CJ, was enamored by Mark Harmon's character, Simon Donovan. He was only on the show for a few episodes but he, like so many Aaron Sorkin characters, was likable from the start. He may even be my favorite character on the West Wing.

And then, in the series finale of Season Three, Aaron Sorkin did what he does so well - he made me break down and cry again. The backdrop of Jeff Buckley singing Leonard Cohen (one of the most beautiful voices singing a song by one of my lifetime's great poets) has become somewhat cliche in my mind but Aaron Sorkin ties it beautifully into the tragedy of Simon Donovan getting shot and killed. The song goes on while a Secret Service agent pulls CJ out of the play she's been watching to tell her that Simon is dead.

The first time I watched this episode, I hadn't just lost someone and similarly turned to Jeff Buckley singing Leonard Cohen to silhouette my own emotions. This time it hits just a little harder, even though I knew it was coming.

The other night I was going to write a post narrating all of my Thanksgivings in Skagway. I had it started in my head but hit a roadblock when suddenly, inexplicably, Thanksgiving of 2010 seemed to have been erased from my memory. Instead of going ahead with it and detailing 2008, 2009, 2011, and this year, I lost control of my emotions, broke down, and decided not to write.

I spent three Thanksgivings with Stimee - 2009, 2010, and 2011. 2009 we spent at Doug and Lindsay's house and I remember it well. In 2011 he was out of town. While I spent the day with Tekla and Katie, he spent Thanksgiving at a Hell's Angels bar in Seattle drinking beers with a guy named Slammer. But I can't remember what we did in 2010. It's like The Nothing from the Neverending Story that has consumed a lot of my emotions and actions lately has also eaten that entire memory from my brain. And I couldn't quite handle that.

It's cliche and overdone to spend Thanksgiving talking about what you're thankful for, especially during a period in your life when you're constantly reminded of all you lack. Facebook is teeming with status updates about what everyone has been thankful for as well as photos of people's feasts and festivities. On a night when I have to work and can't have thanksgiving dinner with anyone, on a day when i've been racking my brain trying to remember what I did with my dead ex-fiancee two years ago, those status updates have just served to push me farther into an abyss of not wanting to realize what I have to be grateful for.

But I took the bait. Early this morning, when I got home from the bar, I made stuffing from scratch and gravy from a packet. It was delicious. As I sat and enjoyed my own private Thanksgiving meal with the two best dogs in the world beside me, I reflected on the things that, in the midst of tragedy, I really do have to be thankful for. I, like everyone else, posted a facebook status of what I was thankful for - namely, all the people who've been supportive of me in tangible ways over the last two and a half months.

I figured I'd have five or six people to tag in that status update. Actually, I had to make several status updates since facebook only lets you tag twenty at a time. I tagged fifty-six people altogether, and certainly left out a lot more. Those were just the ones who actually did something tangible for me, which doesn't include the people whose texts, calls, and facebook messages didn't fall on deaf ears.

Later on, I found myself on one of the messageboards I frequent as a great substitute for real social interaction. Someone had started a thread demanding that we post the top ten things we're all thankful for. My list: 1. the people who've supported me the last couple months. 2. the fact that i'm alive. 3. the fact that i have a job. 4. my dog. 5. indoor heating. 6. indoor plumbing. 7. hot water heaters. 8. nicotine. 9. alcohol. 10. (i tagged a particular friend who's been particularly helpful in the healing process).

There's so much more than that to be thankful for. (I honestly can't believe that I'm posting a blog on Thanksgiving about being thankful.) I don't have a family to spend Thanksgiving with, but I'm thankful that I have a friend who brought me two heaping plates of food from her dinner. I didn't get to participate in anyone else's holiday traditions because of work, but I am beyond grateful that after so many years of trying, I have a real job. I don't have a partner to go home to at the end of the night, but I'm grateful for both the memories of the ones who were there in the past and for the people across the miles who i know are thinking about me.

I think what I'm most grateful for on this Thanksgiving day is what Aaron Sorkin evoked in me. I used to cry at movies and TV shows every time anyone got married, had a baby, died, or ended up with Mr. Right. Lately that's not so much the case. I watched the episode of Grey's Anatomy where Alex and Izzie get married - an episode which always leaves me bawling like a baby - and had no reaction whatsoever except to think how cheesy and awful it was. I don't feel like a zombie anymore, but when it comes to having emotional responses to things that I think I should have responses to, I've felt very much like a robot. I'm grateful to Aaron Sorkin for proving to me that I am still human.

Presidential Elections in Skagway

Throughout the evening on election night I spent a lot of time reflecting on where I am during this election as opposed to where I was -- geographically, emotionally, socially, politically -- during the last election night. On the surface, it really wasn't all that different.

They served Rolling Rock at the Eagles in 2008. It was a simpler time.

This year, just as in 2008, I got dressed up to go out to the bars to watch the election coverage. Four years ago I had a short, cleavage-baring black and white dress that I'd bought in Juneau while on a trip with the high school volleyball team, who I coached at the time. I put that on with my knee-high black boots. At the time, they were my only pair of boots. Leather, with the toe of the left one chewed on a little bit by Merlin. I still have those, but I don't wear them very often anymore. I don't have the dress anymore.

This year, I wore a somewhat more formal dress. It was the bridesmaid dress I wore for Jenn and Paul's wedding - was that eight years ago or so? I also wore black boots, but this time they were my new pair, which have not been chewed by my dog. It turns out that both dresses were significant. The dress I wore four years ago was black and white. As I told people that night, the black and white represented Obama being black and about to enter the white house. This year, my dress was not all about race (why is it ALWAYS about race with you people???), and initially I thought there really wasn't much significance to it at all. It was between the burgundy bridesmaid dress and the green one I had for Andy and Kerry's wedding. Either way, they would've been significant, because of this. (<<-Click where it says "this.)

I was hopeful for a win for Obama both times. Four years ago it was a bigger deal to me. Not only had I followed more of the election at that point, but back then we had still never had a black President. The race card was just a part of it... since I had been following the race I had always been an Obama girl. He was the first politician in my lifetime to speak to my generation as if we were actually significant. He was the first one I saw on the Jon Stewart show, Saturday Night Live, and Facebook. He talked in a language that I could understand instead of using terms that I had to research to be able to follow. And I liked the things he had to say. I wanted him to win the primary, particularly against that cow Hilary. And I wanted him to win the election, particularly with that lovely Palin woman on the opposite side of the ballot.

This year, I didn't really follow the election coverage that much. Apart from Bad Lip Reading, i didn't know anything about the Republican primary candidates. I knew next to nothing about Romney. At this point in my life I'm almost entirely surrounded by people who lean toward the liberal side, so the only things I ever heard anyone saying about Romney were biased from that direction. (Eight years ago, I was surrounded by primarily Republicans. Four years ago, it was somewhat split.) I didn't know what any of the issues were on either of their platforms, apart from knowing the intrinsic differences between the left and right side. Because I lean more left these days, and because I've always been an Obama girl, I wanted Obama to win.

I sat at the Elks with my friends for a little while. I think the last time I wore the bridesmaid dress, I wore it with heels, because I don't remember it dragging on the floor and being stepped on so much. Also, i don't ever wear floor-length skirts anymore. I think I should start again, though, because I feel particularly badass when I'm playing pool in such a girly getup. Even if I am constantly tripping over myself, and even if the boning in the dress makes it hard to breathe and keeps poking me. Although it turns out I'm a better pool player when I'm getting poked. (read into that whatever you will.)

The television wasn't on at the Elks. I told Margaret and Katie both to text me when they found something out. Margaret lives in civilization where they have more access to things like important news, and Katie is a journalist, so I figured between the two of them we'd have it covered. I got messages from them both around the same time saying Obama won. With that, my entourage and I relocated to the Pizza Station.

The coverage was on the TV at the Station. Over beers and meatloaf my friends and I watched intently. There were a handful of other people at the bar and we all chatted a little about what was going on. The most interesting thing to me was that on the map of electoral votes, the states that were red or blue that had already been locked in by electoral votes were, fittingly, red or blue. The rest of the states whose votes had yet to be counted were yellow. Alaska, in that spot it always takes on US maps somewhere near Baja California, was grey. Why? Because no one gives a fuck about Alaska.

I kept thinking about how, four years ago, when the election was on, Allen and I were watching at the Eagles. It was interesting to me to be watching it this year from the Pizza Station. I felt like I should be in the Eagles watching for the magic to really work.

Some of us applauded when the electoral votes reached that clinching number. We watched Romney's concession speech. I don't know a whole lot about him (again, apart from Bad Lip Reading), but the concession speech was really nice, I thought. I mean, I know that they have people writing their speeches for them and all... and the only other concession speeches I've watched were McCain (don't remember it, was too fired up about Obama) and Gore (remember thinking his speech wasn't very good)... but all in all, Mr. Fantastic did pretty well. It got a little intense and the bartender switched the election coverage off, so we opted to go to the Eagles.

And so it was that I got to watch Obama's acceptance speech two elections in a row from the same section of the same bar in the same town. With different people. Holley and I sat and watched , holding hands. Four years ago it was Allen's hand I was holding, and I think I got the slightly better end of the stick this time.

Four years ago it was such a big deal. Either we were going to have a black president or we were going to have a female vice-president. Either way, it would be a first. (If only we knew, at the time, that the other either/or choice was either Sarah Palin is our VP or she becomes the reality show representative of Alaska...) I don't really remember much of what Obama said in the speech four years ago but I remember being inspired, not for the first time, not for the last.

This year as Holley and I sat and watched, it wasn't as historic a moment as it was four years ago. But i was struck by how many times the world has spun around since the last time he was voted in. Four years ago, the shit hadn't yet hit the fan for me since living in Skagway. I was so young, naive, inexperienced. My only priorities in life were Allen, cigarettes, and beer, in that order. I was 24, thought i was 34, and acted like I was 14.

So much has changed. It's like in four years I became an adult through all of the things I went through to get to where I am now. Before Obama got elected the first time, I didn't really care about legislation relating to domestic violence and sexual assault. Shortly afterward, when Palin quit and Parnell took over, one of Parnell's first acts of governor was to declare that he really wanted to crack down on those crimes. By that point, it had become very important to me.

Before Obama was elected the first time, I didn't really care about health care. I never thought about the future beyond the next day, so health care for the long-term wasn't really on my mind. I also had never watched a friend be medevacced out of town and have to run through the gamut of MRIs, CAT scans, spinal taps, and everything else to try and figure out what was wrong with her. I'd never had to watch my friend get stuck with bills she'd have for the rest of her life as a result.

Before Obama was elected the first time, I had no idea that the economy has been pretty miserable. I had only spent a year or so trying to find a real job at that point, and hadn't really tried very hard. I was happy with my summer job, having never spent a winter on unemployment. I felt fairly secure that once I started really trying, I'd be able to find a year-round, full-time job with benefits. I didn't realize how much I needed the stimulus fund that Obama gave me, or the extended unemployment benefits he ended up sending my way. I didn't realize at the time that I had another three and a half years ahead of me struggling to keep my head above water before finally, FINALLY getting a real job.

And, of course, the thought that kept weaseling its way into my consciousness... because some things just don't ever really leave my thoughts... Four years ago, when I came to watch the election with Allen at the Eagles, Stimee was still just a random acquaintance, another one of those people I'd run into from time to time at the grocery store, the post office, the bar... He was just another Skagway guy. I was still a good six months away from getting to know him. Yet another way I was, at the time, completely unaware of so many things about how the world works sometimes.

To that end, it was toward the close of Obama's speech that he said the words that really cut into me and brought tears to my eyes. But the tears weren't related to the fact that my guy is going to be in the White House for another four years. The tears were, once again, Stimee.

"I have always believed that hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting."

Winter Sports In Skagway (or Why My Whole Body Is Sore)

The snow started on October 30th - Tuesday - four days ago. You may recall (if you've read any of my other blog posts, which is a narcissistic assumption) that I wrote a post about the first snow happening in Skagway already. That was kind of a teaser. (The snow, I mean, not the blog post.) In case any of my readership is from one of those places that doesn't really get snow (again, assuming i have readership, narcissism yadda yadda yadda), I'm going to explain some winter premises really quick. If, like me, you grew up in a state that gets dumped on every year, feel free to skip ahead to the next chapter.

When the first snow happens it usually doesn't accumulate on the ground. That comes a little later.

OK, i guess that was all. I really was envisioning some grand tangent about the science of snow and why it doesn't stick to the ground right away but I actually don't know anything about that topic so I'd almost certainly have people like my brother and other smartasses who know things about stuff point out the error of my ways and make me look like an idiot (assuming I don't already).

And now, on with the show. If you're just joining us, we've covered absolutely nothing so far.

The snow started on Tuesday. I normally have Monday and Tuesday off, but due to a stabbing that happened a few months ago (read the whole story written by Katie Emmets here) one of the dispatchers had to go testify in Juneau so I had to work Tuesday. I did at least get Monday off, but being that it was my only day off I started early and was out at least somewhat late.

Being that I work nights I also generally sleep late. So, Tuesday, I slept late. The multiple times I woke up before deciding to emerge from my sleep chamber I was completely unaware that outside me the entire world was turning to white as the entire town around me got blanketed with glittering crystals of snow. If i would have known that, I'd have gotten up earlier.

Anyway, the first tip-off that there was actually any snow outside wasn't looking out my window (because why would i look out my window?); it was looking at facebook. i saw the aforementioned Lady Emmets post a photo of her gentleman friend Lord James wearing a snowsuit in the snow and realized that there must be snow outside or else they just went on a really quick vacation somewhere farther north.

I spent a little bit of time out in it before going to work, but not much. The fun was to start later.

I watched it snow outside my window at work for eight torturous hours. Normally at work I stay inside and smoke my e-cigarette for nicotine fixes, but that night I went outside to smoke real ones so that I could be in the snow. It just kept building and building. By the time I went to work, by the by, there was so much snow that my non-4-wheel-drive-but-still-fucking-awesome Astro van got stuck in the driveway. I was going to turn into the parking spots but my van got stuck, so I just let it sit where it was. When i got off work, it didn't want to move, so I was content to let it be. Another great thing about Skagway - no matter where I am in town, I'm at MOST a mile away from home.

So I ended up at the Station ("and I was like PIZZA STATION!!??!") for beers after work, which has now become my routine. The Station is generally the last bar to close at night. Although my favorite bar in town is the Elks, it's very rare that it's actually open when I get off at midnight. So the Station is where I end up most nights, to have beers and play pool.

Now that it's winter, when you walk into the Station you know everyone who's in there for the most part. I say "for the most part" because last night I beat some guy at pool that I'd never met before and I guess he just got to town. So it happens. But mostly, it's full of the regulars. And by regular I mean regular people that you see around town all the time, not "regular" as in "everyday", "average", "normal," "commonplace" - because most of them are none of those things.

I'm trying to remember who actually started the snowball fight but I can't quite place how it got going. A bunch of us were playing pool together. I can't quite remember how that went but I can only assume I was winning 100% of the time. We all had the same smoke break schedule so at some point in the night there we were, six or eight of us, out smoking, and suddenly the patio became an obstacle course.

It was fucking brilliant. And beautiful. And marvelous. most of us didn't have gloves on, which makes us hardcore, not stupid. We spread out a little bit, each person finding some kind of corner to hide in or obstacle to protect us against the onslaught coming from all angles. There were no teams - it was every man for himself. My personal strategy was to build my arsenal so I didn't have to waste time forming snowballs while in the throes of an all-out attack. It worked alright but I think I got hit just as much as anyone else.

Once it was on, it was just on. Every time anyone went outside, it was back on. Just because someone went inside didn't mean it was off. Snow was flying everywhere and I know I'm not the only one who fell ass-over-teakettle in the snow as a result of trying to evade getting hit. I'm one of the most competitive people I know, if not the most, and it really started to irritate me if someone got me and I couldn't hit them back. Erik was particularly good at this because of the fact that he would go outside the patio and stand farther away than anyone else. Although I am competitive I also throw like a girl and, while he was pretty accurate at that range, I just could NOT get my snowballs to reach him. (I'm fairly certain I did end up getting him back at least once or twice when he would come back toward the rest of us.)

The next day, my entire body was sore. Not only were my arms and shoulders and upper back hurting from the actual throwing, but the rest of my body hurt from falling over in the snow so much. Actually, I take that back. The pain in the rest of my body was more likely from those great acrobatic gymnastics moves we all find ourselves performing when it's slick outside (whether or not aerial snow missiles are being projected at us) to avoid slipping and falling. You know exactly the moves I'm talking about - where you end up pulling some muscle or joint way out of whack in an attempt to NOT look stupid by falling over, to the realization that you actually looked stupider doing the move.

The pain didn't stop more snowball fights from happening, though. It's important to say at this point that it was still snowing, 36 hours later or so. It hadn't stopped accumulating. Not only was there another series of snowball fights on Wednesday night at the station, I found myself in a full-contact one-on-one match that knocked me down on the ground more times than I'd care to count. No pain, no gain.

The next day, I walked to my car with my faithful canine companion in hopes of getting it out of its makeshift parking hole in the snow. By this point it had stopped snowing, but my badass Astro was still stuck. I spent a lot of time shoveling the tires out and shoveling out two tracks for me to back it out to the street on, to no avail. However, I did learn at this point that my snowball arm is the same as my shoveling arm. I had to stop more times than I'd like to admit just to catch my breath because I smoke too much and my arms and back were sore. And after all that work, it still took Dirk coming down and pushing me out to actually have a successful afternoon.

Skagway in the winter is just great. You know, some people ski and snowshoe to get their exercise in the winter and I myself do enjoy a good snowshoeing adventure (watch this space for coverage) but I would like to inform y ou all that I actively support the winter fitness regimen of full-contact snowball fights and getting your van stuck at the police department. My entire body STILL hurts, and i think that means it's working. Thank God for two small miracles: Number One, Brittney is giving me a massage tomorrow. Number Two, hot springs outside of Whitehorse.

I'd like to have some poignant end to this but I don't. It's fun to have snowball fights, end of story.

First Snow in Skagway (and other signs of winter's coming)

As the years have gone by, the signs associated with the transitional seasons have become more and more familiar and comforting to me. Both summer and winter can feel unbearably long halfway in (summer because it's too crowded, winter because it's too lonely), so the signs that things are about to change are almost always welcome.

One of my favorite things to watch as winter is coming is the new snow making its way down the mountains. Dick Proenneke referred to the mountains once as having new mantles around their shoulders as the scenes around him changed from summer to winter. In Skagway we're at sea level and surrounded by 5,000-6,000-foot mountains, some of which keep some of their snow all summer long. The fresh powder on top is a portent of winter's coming. As time goes by in Skagway I've never ceased feeling joyous anticipation as the snow level makes its way closer and closer to me.

So, the first snow in Skagway happens on the mountains long before it happens at sea level where we all live. I experienced my first snow of the year a few weeks ago. The highway out of town climbs from sea level to 3200 feet pretty quickly. I went for a drive a few weeks ago to get out of town.

I'm beginning to love getting off work at midnight. The things I see as a creature of night are so much more beautiful and poignant than the things I'd see if I were an average daytime person. The northern lights and wildlife I've seen since working nights make the awkward shift and lack of social life well worth it. Most people don't get to or have a desire to take a drive to Whitehorse (110 miles away, the nearest city) at midnight and camp on the side of the road for a few hours.

The last midnight drive I took, I saw snow. I got off work and actually thought I probably shouldn't drive since it would be snowy and icy on the pass. I went to the Station for a beer but really just wasn't feeling it. It was shortly after Stimee died, and I just really needed to get out of town. The atmosphere at the bar was pretty somber and all the conversation was about Stimee. That's been fine and therapeutic, but I was feeling the need to get away so I drove anyway.

I hit the road around 1 with Merlin. It was foggy from as far back as Liarsville (only mile 3 on the highway - the summit is about 18 miles up or something). The snow on the summit was absolutely gorgeous. It was dark, and it was foggy, so it's not like I could see any gorgeous scenery or anything. But the snow itself gave me that comforting feeling it always has. Winter is coming. Everything else may be completely awry at the moment but I can rest assured that the seasons will still change and snow will still fall.

I had a better snowstorm about a week and a half ago on a drive to Whitehorse. My brother Andy was in town and we took a drive up the highway on my day off. Snow was coming down for a good part of the drive, and it was even starting to stick and accumulate on the side of the road. Driving in the middle of a snowy cloud once again didn't lend us too much in the way of scenery, but the snow itself, once again, was gorgeous.

The snow that day kept falling even when we got to Whitehorse. It was magical the entire time.

Tonight I started seeing the statuses come up on facebook that Skagway was having its first snow. it seems early, since it's not even visible halfway down the mountains yet. I was surprised but went outside for a smoke break anyway. I smiled and let it hit me and let it soak into the pages I was writing on.

I think there's a few different things that factor into what exactly makes snow such a comforting phenomenon for me. Part of it has to do with what I already said - that no matter what else happens, whatever else changes, the sun will still rise, the seasons will still change, and snow will still fall.

Part of it has to do with the fact that snow means winter is coming, and I've always preferred winter in Skagway to the busy, crazy, extrovert-fest that is summer. There's a comfort to knowing that the peace and quiet are on their way and that relaxation and sleep can actually happen now after 5 months of crazy.

But i think the biggest part of what makes snow magical is just that - that it's magical. I grew up in Massachusetts and saw more nor'easters than I can remember. Snow was a big part of childhood - snow forts, snowmen, snowball fights, and everything else that goes along with snow as a kid. Every time it snows, especially every time it snows for the first time, it's like I get to be filled with that glory of childhood that we all lose a little more of every year. When it snows again, I get to be excited about something really simple again. I get to be awed at the elements once again. I get to start thinking about Christmas and hockey and days off and all the other exciting things that go along with snow and its season.

It's really comforting.

When I came back inside from smoking out in the snow (which isn't sticking to the ground just yet), my hot chocolate was sitting there waiting for me. When I get off work tonight I'll be going for a beer or two. The bars have morphed from summer mode to winter mode so I know that when i get to whichever drinking establishment we choose, the snow won't be the only thing that's comforting. The only people in the bar will be people I know, people with whom I share the bond of surviving winters in Skagway. The topic of the snow will likely come up over our beers and cigarettes, just like everyone talks about northern lights and bear sightings when they happen. It'll be nice because talking about snow will mean we're not talking about death anymore.

On my brother's last full day in Skagway, we wandered around International Falls with Merlin. As we climbed, Andy wanted to veer off the beaten path, which is one of my personal favorite hobbies. We veered northward and disturbed a family of ptarmigans. They took off, much to the chagrin of my dog. Ptarmigans are brown in summer and white in winter. I've seen them in summer a few times, and I've seen a newly dead one in its winter plumage. I'd never seen them in their transitional colors before, and they were beautiful. They were mostly white but somewhat speckled with black spots. They reminded me that, even though winter meant death to Persephone and means hibernation and migration for a lot of other animals, we're still not alone in the winter. Life still goes on around us, even in the bleak, bald-headed north.

The Gossip Mill

One of the most difficult things about living in Skagway, particularly in the winter, is the way gossip works here. It makes it difficult to maintain a personality that includes the trait of caring very little about what other people think, because in a lot of ways it's just like being back in high school again. Because sometimes what other people think of you has actual ramifications, even if what they think is grounded in false rumors and bald-faced lies.

I didn't really care about it at first, because I was still in that mode of not caring what other people think and not thinking that it mattered. My first winter it started actually making a difference. When I went through what I did with Allen, I went from someone who had a bunch of friends and a lot of acquaintances to someone who had approximately three friends in town and zero acquaintances. What's ironic is that, though people would refuse to meet my eyes, smile or wave like everyone does to each other here, they had no problem making up rumors and lies to spread about me and Allen. It was a shitty situation to begin with, and the realization that I had no support outside of three people made it even harder. It wasn't only that I didn't have support that made things difficult. It was that when I went into the grocery store, post office, bar, hardware store, bank, I could only stare at the ground as I walked through, because I didn't want to meet anyone's eyes.

I don't care what anyone says about keeping your chin up and not caring about what other people think. When an entire town has seemingly decided to erase you from existence, what they think absolutely matters.

That was, of course, the worst gossip that I'd dealt with until recently. But I can't even begin to list how many other times gossip has affected my life. I'm certain that it has stopped people from being friends with me, and I'm also unable to deny the rifts that it has caused in my relationships.

There was that time that someone told my boyfriend that my friends were at the bar talking shit about me. I had a breakdown. The friends in question had always been there for me when no one else had, and this information upset me to no end. I confronted the friends in question, separately, and they both shrugged and said "well, yeah. But it's not like I said anything I wouldn't say to your face." Someone else saw them saying bad things about me and perceived it differently than what it was, and for a few days it really upset me.

When my partner was out of town trying to get doctors to solve the medical mystery that was preventing him from being able to eat for a few months, the rumors then were rampant and shameless. While someone was in physical agony and scared because no one could tell him what was going on with his body, people had a field day coming up with reasons why he was out of town. He was on vacation; he was visiting family; there was even one that said he was hiding out in our house under our bed, in Skagway the entire time. Does that sound like the type of thing that someone in that type of situation needs to be worrying about? His work situation was made even worse than it already was by the fact that people decided to make up lies about why he was out of town. Even people that we thought were friends were saying these things, using quotation fingers to describe his "illness" as if it weren't real.

When I broke up with Allen and then started seeing Steve, lots of people apparently said I'd cheated on Allen with Steve, a rumor almost undoubtedly started by Allen. That wasn't true. After Steve and I broke up, a few months later I started seeing Stimee -- guess what -- people seemed to believe I'd cheated on Steve with Stimee (and i wonder who started that rumor?). Sure, who really cares what people think? I could be worse things than a serial cheater. But I didn't cheat on either of those people, and I don't like my integrity to be threatened or questioned that way. In a town where I was struggling to stay afloat, I didn't need potential year round employers to think I was a drama-hungry vixen.

Then there's always the little ones. There was the rumor that I was pregnant, shortly after the rumor that I had a second boyfriend. And, because it isn't always about me, there've been a lot more rumors about my friends that I've dispelled at least to the person who told me. One of my friends had a medical emergency that sent her out of town on a medevac a few years ago. Someone casually mentioned to her recently "that time you OD'ed and had to get flown out", to which she replied with the natural "HUH?!??!" They're all pointless, but they aren't all without consequences.

The latest one that's prompted all of my thoughts on gossip in Skagway probably isn't even worth mentioning. And you know, when it all comes down to it, the way it should work is that the people who are saying things that aren't true obviously don't know me very well or else they'd know these things weren't true. But unfortunately it isn't always the case.

I'm a little more secure now. I know that there are more people in the past month who are supportive of me than there are who are talking badly about me. And it's pointless for me to even pretend I don't participate in gossip, because obviously I do. But if there's one thing I've learned over my five and a half years in Skagway it's that some things just aren't worth re-telling. Not to mention the realization that everything anyone ever tells me about anyone else needs to be taken with a grain of salt.

I wish it didn't bother me when rumors about me make their way back to me. I also wish I didn't participate in conversations about gossip so I couldn't be a hypocrite. And while I like to think that the conversations I do participate in aren't harming anyone, the fact is that probably the people talking shit about me don't think it's harmful either. It's kind of a vicious cycle and it's hard to not be a part of it. I'm optimistic, though, because I care a lot less now than I used to.

Oh, September Girl.

I can't remember what I thought the first time I heard "September Girl." Isn't it funny how that happens? Some of the pivotal songs that you carry around with you over the years are so significant that you can remember exactly where you were and what you were doing the first time you heard them. "Carry On Wayward Son" is that way for me, and so is "Under Pressure." But for all of the meaning that "September Girl" has to me, I cannot remember where I was or what I was doing the first time I heard it.

I guess it's likely that it was in June of 2002 that I first heard it, the first time I saw Jupiter Sunrise at a festival in Altamont (New York). I had gone with a friend because he was into Dashboard Confessional and I had a thing for him. Jon Parker isn't in my life anymore, but if it weren't for his affinity for Dashboard, I may never have been exposed to Jupiter Sunrise.

Somehow or another the band became a part of my life in the months and years to follow. My first few years of college, my core and only group of friends revolved around the band. Greg and Dave, who I'd gone to high school with, fell in love with the band along with me. But if it weren't for the band, I never would have met Val or Kristine (still two of my best friends in the world), Scott (my first love), Mimi, Dan, Steve, Paddy, and, of course, the four members of the band -- Mark, Ben, Aaron, and Chris.

My life -- all our lives -- centered around them for years. They were originally from our area so although they toured the entire country they always stayed in our neck of the woods for more than a few days. And we followed them around wherever they went that was driving distance. We got to be friends with the band and immersed ourselves completely in everything about them.

The song "September Girl" became my favorite song. Maybe it was just because my birthday is in September that I felt like I could relate to it. But its somewhat esoteric lyrics struck a chord with me for some reason and that has never been more real until today.

Although I can't remember the first time I heard it, I can remember the most important. When I turned eighteen (can this memory really be ten years old already?) I walked down the driveway with Greg, Dave, and Andy to my parents' garage, unsuspecting of any pending surprise birthday party. As I walked down the driveway, the garage door opened. Drums and guitar kicked up, and there was Jupiter Sunrise, playing "September Girl" in my parents' garage.

Over the years it hits me at random points and certain words or phrases stand out to me. Sometimes I tried to force it to apply to my situation even when it didn't; other times the words meant something entirely different than what they'd meant to me the last time I'd sung it. The song became an essential thread in the fabric of my life, and it's always been there.

This year it's like I finally get it. Ten years ago when I first started liking the band, I wondered what the song would feel like when I turned twenty-eight. The second line of the song is "...already twenty-eight, still haven't saved the world..." As the years went on, I felt like I was getting closer and closer to the point where the song's meaning for my life would come to fruition. Now it has, and I completely missed it on my birthday.

I was a little distracted, but the reasons for the distractions are exactly why the song makes so much more sense now.

September in Skagway is a transitional month. It's the last month of the season. The last cruise ship day was yesterday, and all the summer people have been gradually making their way out of town. There was a mass exodus today as seasonals piled onto boats, planes, cars and trucks to head back to the real world. Town is about to get a lot quieter, a lot smaller, a lot slower, a lot more peaceful. This September has been more transitional than most-- four days in, a life came to a sudden stop, and our real world in Skagway will never be the same. This September's transitions included police reports and a funeral alongside the usual end-of-season chaos.

It's comforting sometimes in those trials and times of absolute change when nothing is recognizeable in your life anymore to reconnect with an old friend. Sometimes the old friend is an actual person; sometimes it's a book, work of art, hiking trail, or movie; and sometimes it's a song. In my case, recalling "September Girl" was strangely soothing and terrifying at the same time. The realization that I am, at last, 28 years old and able to fully realize a meaning of the song that feels like it was written just for me, makes everything hanging on my shoulders easier to bear while at the same time further engraining it all into my head.

All of the emotions that I've felt over the last twenty-three days of September -- guilt, anger, sadness, loss, grief, fear, pain, love, rage -- are, in one way or another, encompassed in the lyrics that I have always come back to over the years. The song has always made sense to me but now, with all that's been going on, with life and death suddenly made more painfully separate and defined, and with change suddenly being a much bigger word than one syllable, it's absolutely perfect.

Oh, September girl, I am so scared today
Already 28, still haven't saved the world
Woke up this morning to nothing I recognized
Everything changed and I never saw it coming
Now there are five billion disappointed souls
Scraping around in my disappointed mind
And for the first time in my life I am afraid of change because
Everything's changing without me
Oh, September girl, I am so scared for you
You finally decided to live on without me
Now I am forced to just swallow this heart
And for you to become the girl you already are
Now there are five billion disappointed souls
That will just have to wait 'cause I only dream for you
And for the first time in my life I am afraid of change because
Everything's changing without me
Maybe it's time for me to do the thing that I'm meant to do
'Cause you're getting older and I'm getting older
And even us good people die
The gifted never stop seeing the world for the first time
The good ones grow older, the poor ones grow older,
The great ones are never forgotten.

By some beautiful coincidence, the man who wrote the song is online at the same time as me while I write this blog. It makes me wonder... I've always known as a songwriter that my own interpretation of a song and its meaning to me personally may be completely different from someone else's. That's part of the joy of writing songs, I guess -- the knowledge that it may touch someone in a way that you never would have expected. I can only hope that someday, somewhere, something I create will have some kind of meaning to someone else, even if that meaning is entirely different than the meaning I personally ascribed to it.

Stimee's Gun

It came with us, naturally, to the rifle range on a lot of occasions. All the other guns came too.

It came with us to Haines when we went camping with Adam and Crystal and their kids. It was one of many trips that the gun made with us on the ferry. It stayed tucked away in the glove box instead of following the rules and being declared to ferry authorities. Stimee never was one for authority, particularly when it related to his guns. The gun saw some use that Easter weekend of 2011. Stimee, Adam, Steve and Brady shot up some logs by the river. I took a few shots with it myself but for the most part, for some reason shooting wasn't on my immediate agenda that weekend.

The gun stayed in the tent with us as we slept by the river those few nights. Part of the comfort of camping with Stimee was that he had all the best gear, but a greater part was knowing without a doubt that he would know how to use it when he had to. By the river in Haines there had been a lot of evidence of moose. Stimee and I once watched a documentary about moose attacks. Although I've never seen one except through a car window, Stimee's years in Haines had acquainted him with the giant cervids. He loved telling the story about being chased by a moose while on his bike. He dove into a ditch and held the bike up over him so the moose couldn't get at him. Animals didn't frighten Stimee but i guess that's partly because death didn't, either.

The gun came with me last winter on a snowshoe trip to the Denver caboose. In the parking lot with Rachel and Jodie, before I clipped it on, I asked, "do either of you have issues with guns? Because I'm taking one with me. Speak now or forever hold your peace." Neither of them did. The gun stayed on my hip for the trip except when we slept in the caboose. Inside it kept silent vigil beside me in the bunk, there for me if I needed it, a security blanket against anything I could imagine coming in and threatening my safety.

That was when we lived in Liarsville. Stimee surprised me that day by meeting us to hike back along the tracks. it was the dead of winter and everything was blanketed with snow. I had texted Stimee so that he could say hi from the other side of the river as we slogged back to town. When he did say hi, he was already on our side of the river in his Xtratuffs. I hadn't expected that. Stimee, during our three years together, wasn't much of a recreational hiker. It made my day that, in the middle of the most tumultuous part of our relationship, he'd come out to walk back with me.

When we met by the train tracks on our walk back to town, I unclipped the gun from my Carhartts and handed it to him. He carried it back the rest of the way. it wasn't because I was returning it; it was because my backpack was cumbersome and the gun got in the way. He trusted me with the gun, and that gave me pride.

I learned this in the spring of 2011 when I went on a camping trip with the interp staff for work. Stimee was out of town at that point with his job training program. As I packed my gear for the camping trip it was only natural that the gun found its way into my hands. It's just part of the basic needs of a human being. When camping you need shelter (tent), warmth (sleeping bag, clothes), food and ways to prepare it, water, and things to protect you in case of emergencies. That may include band-aids and it may include guns.

I kept the little pistol and its ammo in the glove box of the car as we sat around the fire drinking, eating, socializing. When it was bedtime in the midnight twilight, I went to the car to get it, hoping no one would see. I didn't want to have to deal with someone else's unfounded paranoia of firearms. I wrapped it in my coat and went to bed. I slept soundly that night, and a part of it was a result of knowing I could at the very least create a sound loud enough to frighten away a large animal.

I hadn't asked Stimee's permission to take the gun with me on that trip. It hadn't occurred to me that I should. our assets were shared by that point. At some point later I thought to mention it to him.

"I took the gun camping," I told him. "I hope that's OK."

Of course it was. "I would hope you'd bring it with you," Stimee said. "You know how to use it. There's no reason you wouldn't."

Stimee was particular about some things, guns being one of them. The fact that he trusted me enough and that I satisfied his expectations in gun safety and marksmanship really made me feel good about myself and my relationship with him. In a lot of things he was and always would see me as less than him, not always without reason. For how much more experienced he was than me, I was happy that I was equal enough to be trusted with the gun. I looked up to him in so many ways. He knew so much more than me about a lot of things. I was always beyond flattered when he'd taught me enough to trust me on my own.

But that wasn't always the case. The gun came with us once to the new rifle range and caused me a bit of trouble on one occasion. We were there with about twelve people, including friends who'd never shot guns before. Stimee and I unloaded all the rifles from the back seat of hte car and brough thtme out to the range. It was winter, chilly, but the sun was shining. It was one of those gorgeous clear winter days that Stimee really liked and always tried to sell to summer people.

I went back to the car to get the little pistol and one or two of its mates and some bags of ammo. As I walked back with the armful to the beautiful new wooden structure at the gun range, the gun fell out of my hands and hit the gravel. I was appalled. I looked to Stimee to see what his reaction would be. in situations like that, little accidents which happen to all of us, it could be hit or miss. He could explode at me or he could brush it off, but usually he did not accept mishaps.

His face told me nothing at first. Relief swept over me. Maybe he wouldn't see me as an irresponsible failure after all. I laughed nervously as I picked up the gun. Then it happened. Stimee was upset. He was upset I'd dropped the gun, and he was upset that I'd laughed. "There are people here who've never been around guns," he told me heatedly, softly. My laughter at dropping the gun did not set a good example of how seriously they should all view firearm safety.

I was devastated. Upsetting Stimee was twice as hard as upsetting anyone else. I loved him so much and always wanted to please him. I've been in abusive relationships and maybe that's part of it. But he really was an extraordinary person. I think a person's natural response to someone like him is, especially when you look up to him, to want them to be happy with you. In this particular situation I was more upset because I wanted him to trust me with his guns. I was interested in them and I love shooting. I learned all I know about them from him. His disappointment in me made me feel like he saw me as weak or unworthy.

The gun came with us on a trip to Juneau in autumn, 2010. It camped with us for a few cold and rainy days on the lake at the base of the Mendenhall Glacier. We'd planned the trip because it was when Stimee was supposed to have his hip surgery. As we were loading up the car that night in the dark to head to the ferry, Stimee stopped me in the doorway of our house to tell me his surgery had been postponed. We went anyway. When we got there he told me they'd actually called him a day or two earlier to tell him about the postponement but he'd wanted us to go to Juneau anyway.

It was one of our best trips. The campground we ended up at was a resort compared to the one we were at the first night. Flushing toilets and real showers made it a little more luxurious. We had campfires in the rain and fell asleep to the sound of raindrops on my blue Sierra tent. That trip was also when I got the AB tattoo on my arm. Stimee paid for it, telling me it was a late birthday present. As the years will go by and things will get lost in moves and fall between the cracks, there is one gift from Stimee that won't ever be lost.

The gun waited patiently in the glove box while I got my tattoo. That night, it was taken out again and brought into the tent with us. We slept peacefully, the three of us -- me, Stimee, and the gun.

On the morning of September 4th I came to the police station to see if there was any new information on Stimee. Lindsay had told me that a hiker had found a gun clip and ammo, and I assumed it was some ambiguous shell or magazine round. When i went to the station, I knew things weren't going to be all right. Sitting on the desk where I work was Stimee's holster, the holster I'd clipped to my Carhartts and that had spent so much time in our car and our tents.

That was the last I saw of Stimee's gun. Later, when I went with Adam, Matt and Crystal to move his guns out of his house, they were all there but one. I don't know where the gun is now. It may be in the building with me right now as I sit writing in the police station. It could be tagged in Evidence, or maybe in a gun locker. It may have gone with Stimee to Anchorage to be looked at by ballistics professionals. I don't think I'll ever see it again.

The gun was a part of my life for a lot of years. It gave me a lot of comfort. It made me feel prepared to handle whatever unforeseen obstacles may cross my path. Through it I learned how to be responsible with something more powerful than myself.

But maybe the most important lesson I learned from Stimee's gun wasn't how to use the gun itself. When I had the gun I knew I wasn't invincible, but I had more confidence. As a result, I became more aware of how vulnerable I really can be without it. Learning to use and carry a gun taught me how different everything is when not carrying one.

The challenge comes from here on out. I will see bears while hiking. I will hear noises while camping. Things will come my way that I won't be equipped to handle on my own now that Stimee's gun will never again be on my hip. My own mortality and vulnerability are exposed with the knowledge that it's gone.

There will be others. Certainly someday I'll attach myself to another little pistol and maybe it'll give me some comfort as I walk on through life and all its ordeals. But it won't be the same gun. It won't be the one that fell out of my hand at the range; it won't be the one that kept me at peace at the Denver caboose; it won't be the one that, for so long, looked out for me and took care of me.

The finality of it all has been hard to grasp. But life goes on. People and things will come and go in and out of my life. Stimee and his gun left my life as suddenly as they came into it. The gun made a lot of memories for me that, in one way or another, were pivotal moments in my relationship and in life. But it's the last moment I had with the gun that changed me the most -- when I saw its holster on the desk and the nausea that hadn't abated in eight hours threatened to knock me down again. That moment was the hardest, most significant moment I had with the gun, and the gun wasn't even in the holster.

And i think that's how it'll be with Stimee. The hardest and most poignant moments that I've had with him have been the moments that he has been noticeably absent. There could only be one, and there will never be a replacement.

I have a lot of memories of Stimee's gun giving me comfort and strength. But it was Stimee who empowered me to have those things. Now that they're both gone, I guess I have to learn on my own to have comfort and strength without them.

One Month Til Winter

It was suggested to me that I start a blog about my winters in Skagway by someone who's visited in the summer but has never seen our fair city iin the off-season. Since I write about this stuff all the time, I thought I might as well post some of what goes through my mind and my notebook.

This winter is going to be monumentally different from all of my past winters in Skagway for a lot of reasons. So much so that I'm pondering if I even want to be here for it. Sometimes the timing of things falling into place is ironic at best. Some of the things I've been craving the entire time I've been in Skagway are finally here, and now that they are, the reasons I've wanted them are no longer motivations.

The biggest reason that this winter - which begins after the last cruise ship day, September 25th - will be drasitcally different from the last four is that this winter I will have full time work. In case you don't live in Skagway, here's the deal. There are a million jobs to be had in summer, which is why our population triples from May through September when the ships are coming in. A lot of us have 4 or 5 jobs in the summer time because there's so much money to be made. Why do we need to make so much money? Because we need it to last the winter.

99% of those summer jobs go away once the ships leave. Tour operations, jewelry stores, gift stores, restaurants, bars, hotels, campgrounds shut down. Unless you're working for the school, the city, the power company, the post office, or a construction company, there's a pretty good chance you won't have full time work come winter. We survive by making what we can in the summer and doing little side jobs in the winter.

Last winter I had it down to a science. I worked enough little part time jobs that, on about 800 dollars a month, I could pay all my bills. The last few winters i've been a kitchen assistant at our senior lunch program. Last year I added a few jobs - childcare at the church on Sundays, cleaning a house once a week, and caring for a special needs child. All of those combined to allow me to just barely scrape by.

Now that I've got full-time year round work with the police department it's kind of strange to think about what this winter will be like. It is odd to consider that in the middle of winter I will be able to pay my bills, AND buy groceries, AND be able to go out for a beer from time to time without literally rolling nickels and dimes to pay my tab. It's weird to think about the fact that if i see a pair of jeans I like at our one clothing store in the winter time that I can buy them without affecting my rent. I'll even be able to take a weekend trip here and there to Juneau, Haines, Whitehorse, or Atlin if i feel like it.

But another way that this winter will be different is the same way that this summer has been different. I've just come out of a three-year relationship, and some of my goals have changed as a result. I also will no longer have that partner to connect with every day. My schedule is 4 PM to midnight, with Mondays and Tuesdays off, so I really haven't been able to be social as often as I'd like to. I am an introvert but I'm used to having jobs where I talk to people all day. Now I don't. And now when I get off work, people are either sleeping or hammered, neither of which allow for very stimulating conversation.

But at least I'll still have the seniors. Three days a week I'll still be helping out in the kitchen and serving lunch to the ten or twelve seniors I've come to love, so I'm looking forward to being able to connect with people that way.

I have a new house and a new roommate. I have a new van. I have a new job. I have health care benefits too. So now if i slip on the ice -- scratch that, WHEN i slip on the ice -- and hurt myself, I can actually see a real doctor if I need to. When I go hiking and camping if anything happens I'll be covered. Hopefully it doesn't come to that, but it's nice to know that I don't have to be constantly worried.

I've always loved Skagway more in the winter time than in the summer. This year I'm just a little apprehensive about what my winter will be like. Change is a good thing. And a lot of things will still be the same.

I think over the next few weeks before winter actually starts I'll give a little history on what my winters in Skagway have been like to set the tone for those of you who've never been here. Enjoy...