March Sadness

I will be 54 next month. I am in the process of getting divorced, I have been living here alone for nearly one year. I filed my tax return today, and I owe $982 dollars in federal income tax. I am a graduate student, and I earned $17,000 last year, working in my professor’s lab.

It is shameful--sinful--to think that a country as wealthy as the US would try to hang a college student upside down and shake a thousand dollars out of her pockets.  This is money I could use for rent and food. You know, basic survival.

I mean, it's not like I have a big house with a two-car garage and a giant flat screen TV. I don’t own a house. Or a TV.   I don’t even own a toilet.

I DON’T HAVE INDOOR PLUMBING—OK??

As if I were pulling the wool over Uncle Sam’s eyes…yeah, a big ol’ scam artist living in a log cabin in the forests of Alaska…rubbing her greedy little hands over her secret pile of gold and laughing at the IRS.

While riding her flying unicorn to campus each day: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!

As a full-time student, shouldn’t I be getting a break on my education?  I'm spending lots of time and money in order to make myself a better, more productive citizen.  And this was not a particularly good year:  Joe left, I had over $1,000 in medical expenses, and now $982 in taxes. Plus, I had the complete misfortune to fall in love with a man who is living with someone else. Even he himself told me today that I ought to find another fish in the sea.

All of this has driven me into a deep depression on this lovely and bright afternoon. I didn’t leave the house. I wish I could summon the flying unicorn and fly the nearly four thousand miles to Eric’s door for cake and wine. Or sit in Mimi’s TV room watching movies and listening to her kids’ lively banter like we did on Christmas Day.

Where’s the rich, full life I could have had? I carry on, happy as it is possible for me to be happy, half scared, half amused at the time passing, for the most part OK with my chosen life, until reality points its long ugly finger in my face to remind me: “You are nothing but an outlier; few people know or care about your struggle, and if you were born ten thousand years ago, a lion or a bear would have caught you easily and ripped you to pieces and weeded you out of the population.”

This is what happens in one’s fifth Alaskan spring. The days are bright, but my thoughts are locked in dark freezing November. It will take a while to thaw.

A Lifelong Dream...

This page is dedicated to Simon J. Mcloughlin, my landlord, nextdoor neighbor and friend.  Simon, a New Zealander living in Fairbanks for the last 20 years, is the original "Alaskiwi. " Read on:

 Simon at the YQ300 staging area today. Helene Genet, our neighbor and scientist at UAF, generously offered to be Simon's assistant throughout the duration of the race.

 Simon giving Helene pointers on how to keep "Charlie Brown" (his ancient Ford) under control

 Porky Mcloughlin, Ph.D., discusses her soon-to-be-published scientific paper on climate change. But for now, she has a dog team to lead to victory!

Eager faces ready for adventure: Elsie, Blob, Jasper

2nd Street, Downtown Fairbanks. 17 F above zero, a warm one!!! Normally the race starts on the surface of the frozen Chena River, but recent warming made City Fathers concerned about 3,000 + souls standing on thin ice!

 Most photogenic dogs in the 2014 YQ 300: Lassie, and her sister Blob. They drew spectators and cameras like flies to honey! Simon, you should charge, I'm just sayin'!!!

Cow, Buddha, and Lassie.

Most important bag.

 Allright, now they are FINALLY ready!!!!

Yukon Quest/ Iditarod Champion, the great Lance Mackey, just shook Simon's hand and congratulated him on his first YQ. I love this. They are both heroes: Alaskans, Fairbanksians, mushers, men of a shared heart.  Thank you, Lance, for encouraging Simon on his first Yukon Quest!

  Porky catches my eye as if to say: HECK YEAH, FINALLY!!!!!

Meanwhile, Buddha and Lassie are like: "300 MILES?? REALLY???

Life in Fairbanks would not have been half as enjoyable (let alone bearable) if it wasn't for Simon and his son Gareth.

Simon and Gareth taught Joe and me the WAY to enjoy ourselves during the long dark winters. And they taught us that sled dogs are the life and soul of interior Alaska. A good dog will be your friend, your protector, your more-than-willing means of transportation and recreation through the frozen wilderness of spruce and birch over hill and dale, across frozen rivers and lakes and ponds, through overflow, and on until you come to a snug little cabin in the mountains. They give all this, and willingly spend the night outdoors snuggled in a bit of straw for some warm food and a scratch behind the ears. Back home, they'll also happily drape themselves on a couch in front of a TV or before a blazing fire.

This year, a life long dream has finally been realized.

Before we knew Simon, he was an up and coming musher at Trailbreaker Kennel, working for Dave Monson (husband of famed Iditarod winner Susan Butcher). Simon was the first New Zealander ever to be signed up on the Yukon Quest 1000 race roster (2008).  A neck injury forced Simon to scratch.

Five years passed before Simon would find the ways and means to make his dream come true, and race the Yukon Quest.

An accidental pregnancy of his dog Smoky (of Trail Breaker bloodlines) with a Mackenzie River husky male produced nine lovely, strong, happy, athletic pups: Blob, Brownie, Buddha, Cow, Elsie, Jasper, Lassie, Polar, and Toby--and within a year, Simon had a dog team of eleven--including Smoky's clownish and athletic sister Porky, also a Trail Breaker, who quickly became lead dog of the family pack in harness.

I myself have experienced the rocket-ride with the Mcloughlin Group--on a February afternoon in 2011, I volunteered to be strapped in with not only my skis and poles, but also Simon's moose rifle (them moose can be right ornery!). In just eight minutes we flew up our road and into the local woods to Goldstream Sports, our neighborhood bike/ski shop.

MUST SEE:

Simon at the start line today

Live Tracker--Follow Simon's progress HERE

A walk down memory lane (courtesy of Gareth's You Tube Channel):

Future Yukon Quest Pups at mealtime (Don't all charge at once!!! There's NONE in the BOWL!)

Mcloughlin Group First Time out of the Driveway (GOTTA see THIS!!!)

The Denver Broncos Are Going To The Superbowl--Alaska is NOT!!!

I am still here. Each year that I am here seems to winnow out the people who like the idea of visiting Alaska from those who have not the slightest interest in trekking thousands of miles to visit Alaska (or me). I do give big kudos to those of my friends who have made the journey. Some of my friends didn't like it (sorry about the mosquitoes, Matt), but I thank them for making the effort to come here anyway (and sorry they made you lose your wedding ring in the forest).

Which reminds me:

The Denver Broncos are going to the Superbowl.

Alaska is not. Not that we care, we don’t have our own team and anyway the Lower 48 (known to us as L48, or “Outside,”) doesn’t really know or care what goes on up here.

It reminds me of a story. The other day, a player was told by his head coach: “You can stay here, or you can go play for Alaska: choose.”

The player thought about Alaska:  Yeah, there are some nice things up there, but basically he would have to live in a log cabin and poop in an outhouse and probably get a horrible job on a cannery boat during the off season. And what if things just didn’t work out?  He would be four thousand miles from home.

The other choice: stay on his home team, work on his shit with his head coach, and just make the best of things. He decided to stay, so he called Alaska and told them his decision.

“You’re four thousand miles away," he explained. "That’s a long way. I really like you—and I thank you for all your support. But I want more than you can offer at the present time. I decided I’m better off here.  I’m sorry.”

Alaska was not prepared for this—negotiations had gone really smoothly—but you can never really tell what a player will decide.  After all, both sides want the best return on their investment.

It was disappointing, to say the least. A player like this only comes along so often, and it could be months or even entire seasons—or possibly never that a suitable replacement might be found. But what could the coach do at this point? Send flowers?  He’d already gone to visit the player in person, and they’d had a great time together. But that’s precisely when it makes sense to be careful—just because you hit it off in person doesn’t mean it’s going to turn into any kind of serious commitment in the long run.  The coach had been so confident about recruiting this player that he’d thrown caution to the wind—he’d basically given this player anything he’d asked for, and there was no way, realistically, he could ever recoup the loss.

Before the coach could go on with the rest of his day, he realized the only right thing to do was to be gracious about it. He called up the head coach of the home team and congratulated him. “Wish it was me,” was all he said. The head coach received the call with a cheerful politeness.  It was a short conversation.

Just before negotiations broke down, the player had thrown Alaska a bone—he promised to keep in touch, just in case things didn’t work out. “Yes, I’d like that,” the Alaska coach had said before hanging up. Then he did what any Alaskan does after receiving bad news—he went out into the yard to spend the rest of the afternoon splitting kindling and stacking firewood on the porch.

Yes, this is a breakup story. Not a breakup with my husband. That went really, really well compared to the breakup with my player, er, boyfriend.  

So who wants to come to Alaska and be my new QB??

P.S. HURRY UP!!

April 26

April 29

May 1

May 3

May 7

the old grey mare

And now, please enjoy the wunnerful, wunnerful World's Honkiest Polka Band of Chicago, performing "The Old Grey Mare Polka"



special thanks to Matt & Stephanie for the awesome birthday card
and FatherNorb for the fine video production...

The sighs of April

April is the cruelest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

~T.S. Eliot

I need a vacation