It's a Wonderful Life

I sat down the other night and watched "It's a Wonderful Life" from beginning to end.  It really is a great movie.  It deserves its status as a classic.  It was also very thought provoking.



What if you had never been born or your life had been cut short.  What would the world be like with out you?  I have bumbled through life without a lot of thought about whether or not I make a difference.  Mostly it was just surviving; making it through the day, paying the bills, raising the kids, doing the laundry.  I never considered that my presence just might impact another, that it might change a life . . . hopefully in a positive way.

If I had never been born my husband would have married someone else.  My son would not have been born.  My daughter would have ended up with different adoptive parents.  And those are just the major things.  What about all those lives I have come in contact with over the last 70 years?  Did I in some way change them or influence them?  And did they, in turn, make a difference in someone else's life?  It is a profound conundrum, one to which I will never have an answer.


As I look back over my life, I can see the many people who have changed me, challenged me, filled me.  I had a family that adopted us when we were brand new parents.  They helped me see how families are suppose to work.  They weren't perfect but they were there for me.  They changed me, I changed for my children, they are now changing how they parent.  Just one family.  And that family has impacted three generations so far.  What if they had never been a part of my life?

And then there was the family that I barely knew at church.  They had an adopted daughter from the Philippines.  And I fell in love.  So much so that we decided to adopt a child.  We changed our daughter's life and she changed ours.  I have been blessed with two incredible grandsons who would not exist if that family had not sat in front of us at church.

Then there was the friend who was my "yes, but . . . " friend.  We would have deep theological discussions which always ended with "yes, but . . . ".  It used to drive me nuts.  I loved her and hated her.  Just once I wanted to be right!  In retrospect, now that she is gone, I see she was challenging me to think, to study, to "not lean on my own understanding" but to search out everything for truth.  And, even though she has been gone for nearly 20 years, I can still hear her voice in my ear saying "yes, but . . ".

What about that person who believed in me so much that she helped me get a job with the USDA. Me, the little old hick from the country, working with "educated" people.  Me, who had no ability, no self-esteem, no education was hurled into a job that was way beyond my pay grade.  Because of this persons confidence in me (when I had none), I succeeded and rose up the ladder quickly.  She believed in me.  Sometimes that is all it takes.

And then there was the long lost shirt-tail relative who I only kept in touch with through Christmas cards.  She encouraged me each and every Christmas to "write".  I appreciated the compliments, but never took them too seriously.  And, low and behold, now I am writing.  What if she had never said anything?  What if I had never known her?  She made a difference.

Once in a great while, I get a glimpse of a difference I made to others.  I get a card with wonderful words, or a teary hug, or a smile of understanding.  Not because I do "big" things, but because I was meant to be there at that time in their lives.  Sometimes just being there is enough.  I can only help change the world one person at a time.  Not because I try to mold them into something else, but because I encourage, or listen, or laugh or cry with them.

It is a wonderful life.  Every day, in every way.  You make a difference.  Never believe that you don't count, that you are not important.  If you have come into my life, however briefly, you have made a difference to me!  Believe it!

According to the movie, every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.  Maybe you are that angel!  I know you are a gift to someone somewhere.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Christmas

I will admit that I have been a "bah-humbugger" when it comes to Christmas the last few years.  There has been so much upheaval in my life that I just didn't have it in me to decorate, bake, entertain or even cook like I should have.  What a really sad thing to have to admit!

But this holiday season has changed my attitude.  This year we have been blessed with a small miracle.  Oliver Thomas was born on November 14th.  And he was a miracle for he was born with the cord wrapped around his neck three times!  We are blessed that the doctors finally decided to do a C-section or it is possible I would not have a beautiful little grandson.


In looking at little Oliver, I am reminded of another baby that came into this world some two thousand years ago.  That baby was also tiny, helpless, truly dependent on a teenaged mother for his care.  He did not have the option of hospitals or doctors to make sure he arrived safely.  He did not even have a bed in which to lay.

A newborn.  What was God thinking to put all of His eggs in one basket?  The creator of the heavens and earth, the God of all things; what was He thinking??  A baby, helpless, totally dependent on a young, inexperienced mother, and not even born at home but in a drafty, dirty barn.  A million things could have gone wrong.  But they didn't.  In fact, everything was pre-planned by his Father.  That baby fulfilled every prophecy attributed to him in the scriptures.  What are the chances of that happening?  I could take you through the law of mathematical probability but it would take too long.  Needless to say the probability that over three hundred prophecies would be fulfilled by one person is 1 in 480 billion x 1 billion x 1 trillion.  In other words, as close to impossible as you can get.

I passed a flock of sheep today with the shepherd out amongst them.  God chose the lowest of the low to reveal the news of the birth of His son.  Shepherds were as close to outcasts in society as any could be.  But it was shepherds who first saw the child.  They were in the fields tending the flocks for the temple sacrifices.  Little did they know they were viewing the ultimate sacrifice for all men on earth.  Do think they ever wondered why they were chosen for this incredible occasion?  Do you think anyone believed them when they shared this remarkable news?  Did they even understand what they were witnessing?

And what about this child's mother?  We know that she "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." (Luke 2:19)  She expounds on her feelings in the Magnificat in Luke 1:46-55.  She knew, but I wonder if she really understood.  Certainly she didn't know that 33 years later she would be grieving at the foot of a cross that held her firstborn.  She would cradle him in her arms once again in his death. It must have cut her to the core to see this child of hers scourged, beaten, mocked, and ultimately sacrificed.  Was she aware of the predictions of his death in the scriptures?Did she marvel every time he did or said something?  Did she wonder if he really was the son of God?  Did she look upon him as her son . . . or His son?  Was she angry with God for allowing this to happen to her baby boy?  I can not even imagine what she must have gone through.

And poor Joseph.  This wasn't his child.  And yet God placed the care and upbringing of this baby into his hands.  His wife, whom he had probably been betrothed to since she was very young, was carrying an illegitimate child.  He was humiliated enough to abandon her had not God intervened.  Was it difficult to raise God's son?  I would imagine you might be second guessing every parenting decision you made.  And perhaps wondered where you fit into his life as a parent.  Did he resent this child?

The wise men knew.  Not that this child was the savior of the world, but they had known for centuries that a king of great importance was coming.  I am sure they envisioned the majesty of thrones and crowns and kingdoms.  They brought gifts that indicated all of that. Do you think they wondered when this "king" they had visited as a child was sacrificed on a cross?  Had they made a mistake?  Did they read the stars wrong?

Jesus probably had everything against him by earthly standards.  But he had God as his Father which trumps all else.  God is the father of details.  He is the master of miracles.  He is the giver of life.  And we, the lowly, are the recipients of His eternal gift.  We can't wrap this gift in a box.  But we can share it with others, not just at Christmas, but every day of the year.  This year give the gift of life to everyone you know.  Give them a miracle.  Give them the ultimate love story that was ever written.  Just give them  . . .

As I look at little Oliver in all his dependent helplessness, tears of joy flow down my cheeks.  He is a miracle.  Every child is a miracle.  If a child does well in life, he can change the world around him. But the one that was born two thousand years ago in a manger has changed the world for all eternity.

I was introduced to this Christmas song last year and it is near and dear to my heart.  If you have not heard it, look it up on the net.  The last verse tears my heart wide open. Hallelujah!

A Hallelujah Christmas

I’ve heard about this baby boy

Who’s come to earth to bring us joy

And I just want to sing this song for you.

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,

The minor fall, the major lift

With every breath I’m singing Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

A couple came to Bethlehem

Expecting child, they searched the inn

To find a place for you were coming soon.

There was no room for them to stay

So in a manger filled with hay

God’s only Son was born, Oh Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

The shepherds left their flocks by night

To see this baby wrapped in light

A host of angels lead them all to you

It was just as the angels said

You’ll find him in a manger bed

Immanuel and Savior, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

A star shown bright up in the east

To Bethlehem, the wise men three

Came many miles and journeyed long for you

And to the place at which you were

Their frankincense and gold and myrrh

They gave to you and cried out Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I know you came to rescue me

This baby boy would grow to be

A man and one day die for me and you

My sins would drive the nails in you

That rugged cross was my cross too

Still every breath you drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Do you realize that His cross was your cross too?  Do you really understand that it was your sin that nailed him there?  He was God.  He could have removed himself from the situation at any time, but he didn't.  It was love that held him there.  Mull that over as you worship this holiday season!

Just Writing on the River Road

Bucket List

For the most part of my life, I never had time for a bucket list.  Who has time to dream about those far off fancies when you are struggling to raise a family, work a full time job, and maintain a home.  It really isn't in the cards.....either time or money wise.

But now, now that I am older, I think about the things that I would like to do: travel to far off places, experience new things, discover things I have never dreamed of.  Rather than checking things off my list, I seem to be adding to it.  Do you think that is going to be a problem?  Soon it will look like a roll of toilet paper.  Long and tenuous.  I don't know that I have enough time to do it all.

What does a person put on their list?  I know a couple of "oldies" that jumped out of airplanes.  No, I don't think so.  I'd like to advance into old age in one piece "thank you very much".  Now a zip line, that I might consider.  There are those who take "big" trips to foreign countries.  I could see me doing some of that.  Or they sell their home and live a vagabond life in a travel trailer.  A little of that would be good too, but I think I would want to return to a permanent address.

Being married to someone who has not much interest in exploring these options, often my dreams are met with frustration.  But non-the-less, I will attempt to fulfill some of the things on my endless list while I am still upright.  On my short list I want to ride horseback on the beach, cruise the Hawaiian Islands, travel to Israel, take a riverboat ride down the Mississippi.  Not terribly grandiose things, but still dreams.

But most of the things on my list are much easier to attain.  I want to see my grandchildren grow up.  I want to be an integral part of their lives. I want to explore and enjoy new things.  I want to try my hand at things that I never had the courage to do when I was younger, like being a Christian speaker or publishing a novel.  I want to continue to teach the Bible and watch my student's hearts and eyes be opened to a new understanding of the scripture.  I can do all of those things easily.

Somehow I find it a little sad that we need to have "bucket lists".  Shouldn't we live life to the fullest each and every day?  I understand that early in life we don't have the money to do "big" things, and then we have families and that can put a cramp in your style sometimes.  And there is always the career to which we devote much of our adult lives.  These things are all very important.  I guess it is when we retire that we realize that some of our dreams were not fulfilled.  Or maybe we just have more time, and hopefully finances, to enjoy more extravagant things.

Really, in the end, will I feel unhappy or unfulfilled if I don't get to travel, or learn to paint, or write the great American novel?  Maybe a little.  Each day should be filled with things that give us joy, satisfaction, and happiness.    Those things are easily found in friends, family, service to others, neighborliness or simply taking time to enjoy the seasons, the garden, the abundance of life around us everywhere.

So I may rethink my bucket list a little bit.  Perhaps I need to put those more meaningful things a little higher on the list and yet still plan for the big dream one day.  What about you?  Do you have unfulfilled dreams?  Perhaps now is the time to begin to explore what is really important.  Are you living every day to the fullest?  Let's get our priorities in order: family, friends, service to others, a relationship with our creator . . . none of which cost us anything but a little time.  But the rewards will be satisfying and fill us with joy.  Is there more than that?

In this season of Thanksgiving, remember to give thanks for all you have and look forward to each day with a "attitude of gratitude".  Everything, big or small, is worthy of a "Thank You" to Jehovah Jireh, our God and provider.

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!

Just Writin' on the River Road

Why Volunteer?

Do you ever wonder why some people volunteer for everything? And others are not much interested in working for nothing. Maybe it is because you have not yet found your niche. We are all gifted in some manner, we all have likes and dislikes, or things that we are passionate about.

For those of you outside of my local area, this plea will probably not pertain to you.  After being in the "volunteer"business for nearly ten years running a non-profit, we are seriously considering closing the doors of our ministry.  Three people can only be stretched so thin and something as to give.  So I want to tell you what you have to win, or lose, if no one steps up to the plate and helps Twelve Baskets continue on.

We, at Twelve Basket’s Cooperative Ministry, are always seeking for volunteers. If you think volunteering is simply being there on the weekend, sorting through donations and greeting customers, you would be right . . . and wrong. There are so many additional needs that you may have never considered. We need “fix it” people to check out mechanical and electronic goods, organizers who want to help with special events such as the Coat Give-Away, the Harvest Festival, the Community Yard Sale, or float builders for the 4^th of July and Christmas parades. We need media people to advertise special events and make posts on Facebook or put up fliers. Those people who are computer savvy could help with so many things. Or perhaps you feel led to participate as a board member. How about being a financial counselor?   Do you have skills you can share with others?  Many of these things only require a few hours here and there, but all of you are necessary to make things run smoothly.  And yes, it does require a commitment just like a "real" job!

So why volunteer? There are so many reasons! While you will not get paid monetarily, you will gain ever so much from the experience. Young people, volunteer work looks great on your resume. It tells future employers that you care about more than wages, you care about your community, a cause, and people. It shows you are not afraid of hard work. You will gain abilities that will be helpful as you step out into the world. Honing your people skills will take you a long way in life.

Those of you who are retired, you too will gain from helping out. First there is the satisfaction of doing a job, serving your community or aiding someone who has a need. Secondly you will find a whole new set of friends and acquaintances that will enhance your world. And yes, you will learn new skills. Going against the old adage, you “can teach an old dog new tricks”. In fact, as we age, we need to be challenged to learn new things. It keeps us vital.

Some of the many perks of working at Twelve Baskets is the sense of family and community. The work can be hard at times, but there is a venue within the organization that will uniquely fit you and your abilities. Some of you like to be cashiers and greet the public, some like to organize and redecorate, others enjoy doing yard work or the many odds and ends at need to be done each week. Some of you can help from home, others are needed at the store on a regular basis.

The bottom line to any volunteer experience is not what you give, but what you get in return. Over the years we have been blessed beyond measure with your support, your friendship, your abilities, and the fact that you care about others and your community. We would love to share that sense of blessing with more of you. We want to get to know you. It makes our lives richer. Not only our lives, but everyone you come in contact with. We would like you to become part of our family.  

Right now we are accepting applications for two or more managers, as well as additional help.  If you don't volunteer to help, this little store that has supported this community for nearly ten years will close its doors by the first of the year.  And if you think we are "just" a thrift store, you would be so wrong.  One hundred percent of our profits from your generous donations go back into this community.  We not only help individual members of our community, we give out scholarships, we offer warm coats to the community for free, we support our local library, museum, art council, prescription fund, Senior Center, food bank, fire department, Disaster Fund and more.  We offer a place for those with special needs to learn some basic skills such as socialization.  We participate in fund raisers for those who have suffered a major loss.  We offer a safe place for those who are at risk.  They receive love, understanding, and help in any number of ways from personal counseling to financial management to reestablishing their lives.  And you will be prayed for, hugged, listened to, and leave knowing that somebody cares.

Yes, we offer wonderful goods that are donated by our generous community but that is just the tip of the iceberg that is visible to you.  We laugh with you, we cry with you, we support you and care about every little thing in your life that causes you joy or pain.  Do you really want to see us fall by the wayside?  Especially since it would only take a small sacrifice on your part to keep this ministry up and running.

We ask that you consider joining our team.  You will be blessed.  I can promise you that!

Just Writin' on the River Road

So what. . .

I see a lot of messages on Facebook about depression these days.  Suddenly, at this point in my life, it has knife stabbing meaning.  I never thought of myself in that way, but now it feels a lot closer to home than it used to be.

I don't even know how you define depression.  Do I feel suicidal?  Absolutely not.  Mostly it just feels like being covered with a heavy, wet blanket.  It is hard to think, hard to move, even hard to speak at times.  I used to think I was just having a "pity party", but I think it is more than feeling sorry for myself.  There is something deep and dark that pulls you back to all of  those "pitiful poor me" thoughts, something that won't allow you to let go and move on.  I used to think I wallowed in my problems because I chose to do that.  Now I am not so sure that the decision is all mine any more.


Talk to someone, they tell me.  But when you feel that no one else "gets" where you are at, it seems rather pointless.  So the routine "I am fine." answer is always at the tip of my tongue.  For I find that others not only don't understand, but mostly they don't care.  Not because they are mean or cruel,but because they, too, are dealing with a very full plate.  I don't blame them.  I understand.  They can't fix my situation.  We all deal with life and death, pain and illness, family issues, wayward children, disappointment, fear, and the list seems endless.  Walk a mile in someone else's shoes, the saying goes, if you want to fully understand their suffering.  I think there is a lot of truth in that.

But also, we should never discount another's pain and circumstances.  While not the same as mine, they hurt just the same.  It does not help to tell them they are "strong", because nobody is strong all the time.  We simply rise to the challenges before us when it is necessary.  And then we collapse into a well of despair.  It is like wearing lead boots and hoping you never end up near the water.

Those of you who are care givers, or have been care givers, will understand.  There is a fine line to maintain your own life while caring for someone else.  And when it is someone you love, it is even more difficult.  I reek of selfishness for I want to run away and leave it all behind.  But responsibility, compassion, loyalty, and love keep that from happening.  Please don't disparage anyone when they do take that short time to get away and recoup, it is a necessity if they are to continue on.

I am most fortunate in that I have two special people in my life.  We have been friends for 14 years.  Although we each struggle with our own battles, we know and understand each other's battles also.  When I am down, the other two pick me up.  When I need a "talking to", I get that.  When I can't go one more step, they are there.  I am blessed.  When life sucks, we suck it up together.  We keep each other going.  When I am tempted to give in or give up, they yank me back into the real world.  Sometimes those who really care have to "slap you up along side the head" so your head settles back on straight.

Joy is there, but it seems so far away sometimes.  Life goes on.  I need to learn to live for today....ultimately that is all I have.  But I have the promise of life everlasting with my Savior that will beat anything I can imagine here on earth.  I can't imagine surviving my circumstances without that promise.  "Jesus Loves Me" is not just a song, it is the truth.  And when all else fails, it is that truth that you hang onto.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Tribute to Love

I attended a funeral recently.  I confess, I really dislike funerals.  Perhaps it is the sadness, even though we try to make it a celebration of the person's life.  Or it could be that that person will leave a hole in my life that can't be filled by any other.  Maybe it is facing my own eventual passing from this world.  What ever the reason, it isn't a place I like to be.

This funeral was somewhat different.  Was it sad?  Yes.  Will that person leave a void? Yes.  But it was a testimony in a number of ways of the true power of love.

You see, Amy was handicapped from the age of three months when she suffered a bout with menigities.  She was an answer to prayer...…..she did not die.  She became the commitment in her parent's lives for the next 45 years.  The love of a parent for a child is a difficult thing to describe.  Is it just a commitment, or a sacrifice, or does it go deeper?  In this case it became a lifestyle.  The love was tangible, real and never faked.  For Amy would never run into her parent's arms and tell them that she loved them, but she told them through her laughter and smiles.  She mourned her daddy when he passed away.  Her mother knew this even though Amy couldn't tell her.  Amy was a special testimony in and of herself.  Her parent's love for her has become a testimony to the rest of us.

The love of family is immeasurable.   Amy's family surrounded her.  Her parents, her siblings, her nephews and nieces were all a part of her life.  Her sister testified how much Amy had changed their lives, filled them with a compassion and caring that could have come no other way.  Experience is not only the best teacher, it is sometimes our only teacher.  Each experience with Amy would ultimately change each of them for the better.

Another part of the story is the love that this community had, not only for Amy, but for her family.  They supported them in the hard times, were there when a shoulder was needed for a good cry, loved them through thick and thin, and physically stepped in to help when they were overwhelmed.  It was never a sacrifice for anyone to become a part of Amy's life.  It was just done because that's what people do who love and care for each other.

Perhaps Amy's care was seen as a life long burden by some.  And it could easily have been that.  But for Amy's family it was a burden of joy.  Was it difficult?  I am sure they could tell you many stories of the hardships, the difficulties, the pain, or the fear that encased these last 45 years.  But they don't focus on that, they focus on the joy that Amy brought into their lives.

I only met Amy once.  She didn't seem extra special to me, but then I didn't know her personally.  But the look on her mother's face when she interacted with Amy was extraordinary.  When other's talked about her, it was with love and compassion.  There was understanding, kindness, consideration expressed by all those who did know her or her family.  She is a testimony to the difference that one life can make in this world.  One life that changes everything it comes in contact with, one life that will be sorely missed.

Even though I didn't know you, Amy, you have impacted my life in subtle ways.  I was sometimes almost jealous of the love others felt for you.  God now has His little girl.  She is whole and well, sitting in His lap for all eternity.  Thank you for changing my life.  God bless you always.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Life without.....

It is amazing what can bring life to a screeching halt.  And it never seems to be the big things in life, most often it is the little things that we take for granted.  Point being . . . my internet went down for a week.  I never thought I would ever say that I am dependent on something, but I guess I am.  Being rather technology/computer impaired, I have to call for HELP!  So I called the internet company.  After thoroughly explaining to them that showing up to fix it in a week was completely unacceptable, they showed up in a week anyway.  So for a week, I couldn't play cards (a disaster), couldn't e-mail (how would I ever communicate), couldn't do business or banking, couldn't look things up (remember encyclopedias?), there was no Netflix (because there is nothing on regular TV to watch), no wi-fi radio, no Facebook (not a great loss), no working from home on my business, no blogging, no printing documents (printer is wi-fi connected) . . . in other words, life came to a halt.  Not really, but all those things we do from minute to minute, were gone.  How did we ever survive the pre-computer age?

Well, let's see.  How did we survive?  I wrote letters.  In fact I still have some that were written over 50 years ago by friends now long gone.  Or I walked to the telephone booth to make a call.  Yes, one of those funny little boxes on the corner that required lots of change if you intended to talk very long.  I went to the movies for less than a dollar.  I sometimes typed on a typewriter, but more often than not, I wrote by hand.  Printing was called a carbon copy.  And we thought we were really "up town" to have such conveniences at the time.

I am sure, in another 20 to 50 years, all that I enjoy now will fall into the category of the vintage telephone booth.  At the rate technology is advancing, I won't have to move to do anything.  As it is, I can talk to my remote and it will do any number of things so I don't have to get out of my chair.  Will we forget how to care for ourselves, will we forgo our independence, will our brain power decrease as we become dependent on machines to do our bidding?  Look at the things already lost.  Penmanship is gone, basic math skills are gone, why bother when you can type or use a calculator.  Sadly, communication is gone as I knew it.  Now it is done on Facebook or texts, people rarely ever talk face to face.  Do I do those things, absolutely.  But nothing beats an old fashioned gab fest between friends, or picking the brain of someone who has more skills than I do.  You-tube is handy but sometimes one-on-one lessons are better.

Would I go back to that time of such "inconvenience"?  Sometimes.  It was easier, slower, filled with things that I know and understand.  I think mostly it was filled with youthful exuberance, hope, expectation, and life in general.  People interacted, encouraged, taught, and helped each other.  Now I just have to "Google it" to find out things, and I while I appreciate the convenience, I sometimes miss the interaction of others.

You would think, being a total introvert, I would thrive on this electronic age.  And, in some ways, I do.  But for an introvert, it can also be dangerous place.  If you are not inclined to be a naturally social creature and are not "forced" to interact with people through work or other outlets, it can be a lonely and scary place to find yourself.  I wonder if so many suicides have to do with our loss of human interaction.  I know some are the result of cyber actions that can hurt and cause incredible damage.  And the "bully" never sees the effect of his elecrronic actions.  We live lives with little or no responsibility.

I have meandered way outside my intent when I began this article.  But it must all have been stuck in my craw somewhere to come flowing forth.  Let's enjoy our conveniences but let's also enjoy each other.  Listen, watch, speak, interact.  People were created to need others.  And an electronic device just won't be there when you really need someone.

Just Writin' on the River Road

The Final Chapter

This winds up the trip of a lifetime by two young girls who spent nearly six weeks touring Alaska and parts of Canada.  I wonder what kind of an impact it had on their lives.

This little piece of history will be for sale at the Calico Cupboard, Glenns Ferry, Idaho.


Tuesday, July 18  Got up at 7:30, got on deck in time to see a fishing boat scrubbing up after unloading their fish where we were docked.  Sailed.  M and I spent the morning on deck.  Got to Sitka after lunch.  Had trouble docking.  No one wanted us. Docked at the Standard Oil dock blocking up a little harbor.  An airplane wanted out and he and our Capitan had words.  Finally let him out.  M and I crawled sow a gangplank then proceeded to walk in circles to get no where.  Went to see a fish cannery but it had stopped.  Walked around dusty streets getting no where until we finally hit the road out to Totem Pole Park.  Stopped to see the Russian church but they're worse than the Methodists.  They charged a collection before you even got in.  We skipped that.  Totem Pole Park is very lovely.  We met the doctor and his wife holding hands in Lover's lane.  Lovely shaded paths now and then giving glimpses of the sea with totem poles here and there.  Got back to the ship about 3:30.  Ate dinner then I went picture shopping.  Sailed at 8.  M and I went to bed soon after.

Wednesday, July 19.  Thought we got up at 8:30 but found we should have se our clocks ahead an hour las night so it was really 9:30.  The steward was very shocked.  Went on deck for the morning.  We sat in the (the boat did) in the middle of the passage waiting for the tide to get into Petersburg.  Arrived just after lunch for a half hour.  Rushed to see a fish cannery.  Saw them sorting the fish but we didn't' have time to see the whole cannery.  Slept all afternoon.  After dinner got off to see Wrangle.  Saw war canoe, etc.  Got a garnet.  We get to Ketchikan about 2.  Will see if we can stay awake.

4 AM.  Just back from doing Ketchikan.  After midnight lunch went to observation room and danced.  I did the shottish with Mr. Gates. fun.  At 12 the orchestra stopped.  People wanted to keep dancing but all records, piano, etc.  Were locked up so we all sang, then they turned out all the lights on us but we still sang.  Then they blinked the lights but we still sang.  At 1 the man came up to clean up the room for tomorrow so we adjourned to the galley where raided the kitchen.  The Captain came down and was surprised to see the group but was jolly.  Arrived in Ketchikan  at 2.  Walked downtown and got back about 4.  It is 4:30 now and daylight.  Another day has dawned.

Thursday, July 20.  Got up at 12 noon, dressed just in time for lunch.  After lunch start to hunt up costumes for the costume ball.  M. went as a Spanish gentleman.  Captains dinner was tonight too.  We had balloons and paper hats and turkey.  Very good Captain's dinner.  At 8:45 the grand march started, we paraded around the ship then went to the observation room.  After judging of costumes, we had midnight lunch.  Then we danced.  Now to bed at about 12.

Friday, July 21.  Got up about 8:30.  Went on deck, beautiful sunny day.  Saved ourselves until lunch.  After lunch we again went on deck and stayed until about4.  Then we came down to do some packing.  After dinner we napped then got ready for Vancouver.  Docked about 9:30.  Then went with Mrs. Young to see the town.  Got back about 11:30.  We were given slips to get on and of this by the immigration official.  Should dock in Seattle tomorrow about 7.

Saturday, July 22  No more entries.

Just Writin' on the River Road

A Mother's Hands

Every time I do certain things, like petting the cat or peeling vegetables, I see my mother's hands.  It is a strange feeling that I haven't really come to terms with yet.  Do I want to be like her or not?  Do I want to accept my age, probably not. Some how this whole "hand" thing
bothers me and I am not quite sure why.

Am I reminded of her last few years when those fingers were feeble and unable to do the things we all take for granted, like buttoning up her shirt?  Her hands fluttered because she wanted to do things that weren't as easy as they had once been.  Perhaps I am beginning to see that in myself and I don't much like it.

Her hands were weathered from years of hard physical work.  She lived without the things I take for granted today.  Washing clothes was an all day affair of heating water on a wood stove, washing things by hand, hanging it on the clothes line in good weather or bad.  It was carrying wood and water into the house and out again.  She gardened and canned everything, including venison and 100 chickens every year.  Those things were all boiled for hours on a wood stove in the scalding heat of summer to preserve them.

I remember those hands cracked and bleeding from being in water and then outdoors in the dead of winter.  She would put grease on them and wear gloves to bed at night to encourage healing.  Those hands mended our clothes on a treadle sewing machine, they washed diapers by hand, they cooked our food on a wood stove, they never had time for anything relaxing or fun.  It wasn't until she was into her 70's that she began to read again.  There was never time for that before.

So when I see my hands and find them similar to her's, there is no comparison to the things they have done.  We take so many things for granted through life, but our hands are truly a remarkable piece of equipment.  They can soothe our hurts, create lovely, intricate art, caress a loved one.  In and of themselves, they are a true work of art.

So what bothers me about seeing my mother in myself?  I am not sure.  Perhaps it is the age thing.  Maybe it is the inability to do the things I used to do, or possibly I just don't want to end up as she did.  I do know that I yearn to do so many things in the autumn of my life...…..to begin a bucket list.  To fulfill a bucket list.  I don't want to just let life happen anymore.  I want to take it by the horns and go out in a blaze of glory!  Or at least give it a shot until my fire burns out.  Young people don't understand that your need for "living", having experiences, or adventure doesn't die just because your body ages.  One just has to get a little more creative to accomplish some of those things.

A "older" couple came in the store the other day.  She carried oxygen and it was apparent she had a difficult time breathing.  But they were out and about doing things.  As they left, they each got on their big, shiny Spyder motorcycles and drove off.  Yes!  I say go for it.  Who says we have to drive a outdated sedan in our "golden" years!  They were living their dream.

Someone posed a question to me the other night.  Do we ever see our parents as anything but "parents"?  Do we see their desires, their dreams, their hurts, their passions.  I have to admit that I never considered those things with my parents.  They were just there.  Mine was a different generation where you were not "friends" with your parents.  I think some of that has changed but not all.  Do me a favor.  Ask your Mom or Dad about their dreams.  Ask them how they feel about things.  And listen to their answer.  You might be surprised that they feel pretty much the same as you about most things.

Just Writin' on the River Road

A little romance on the frontier?

Saturday, July 15  Got up about 11, went shopping, got some pictures.  Then took a walk over Skagway Bridge to Pirate Cove and then out to a point.  On our way we met a young man, Joe, and he came along.  He was very nice and made the walk most entertaining.  I like him.  He had blue eyes, light hair and a mustache - tall and athletic.  He helped check in the freight when the boat docked.  He liked walking and hiking.  Got home about 4:30.  Went to see the Yukon come in and the Prince George go out.  Came back and M treated me to a big dinner at the hotel.  Then took a walk to the boat with Didi.  Met Johnny down there and talked in the observation room while they came home.  We had banana ice cream cones.  Talked in the lobby a while then went to bed.

Sunday, July 16  Got up about 9. dressed and packed, checked out about 10.  Fooled around the hotel lobby.  Couldn't go on a hike because it was raining.  Ate at a café then played the piano for a while in the lobby.  Then about 3:30 got a taxi to take over our bags.  Went on board the ship.  I was sleepy so went to our room to sleep.  M stayed on deck and got our table settings, table K.  Seems nice.  Three teachers who are jolly, a doctor and his wife (doctor is very dark and handsome and as all doctors, easy conversationalist), so we are well off.  After dinner watched the boat leave the dock about 7.  Stayed on deck to enjoy the scenery and played deck tennis.  Stayed on deck until about 10:30 then went and had a midnight lunch.  I am in the habit now from the river boats.  Then went up to the observation room, danced some and talked.  The doctor joined M and I about 11:30 and we chatted until 12 when things were over.  M and I went on deck again.  Beautiful, the sharp, rugged mountains silhouetted against the clouded sky with now and then stars peeking through - was lovely.  We could hear the swish of the water churned by the propellers of the ship.  Now to bed at 12:30.  We get to Juneau at 7 this morning.

Fish cannery

Monday, July 17  Got up about 6:30.  Walked around Juneau.  Came back and had breakfast at 9.  Played shuffle board and sat on deck til noon.  After lunch we got to Hawkins Inlet.  I went ashore - M didn't.  Wild berries grow in abundance - blueberries and loganberries, the last not ripe yet.  Mr. Shedd took me through a cannery.  It wasn't running but you could see all the machinery.  Next we stopped Hula, another cannery where we again loaded canned salmon.  This was about 7, after dinner.  Played shuffle board until about 10, then went to the midnight lunch.  To bed about 11.  Had a fire drill this morning.  the fire hose got away from its keeper and M and I got a shower bath.  Bet I'm lame tomorrow from shuffle board.  Played three games against two college boys and M and I beat each time.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Life and then some

I am thinking that you will find this article very "off key" for me.  Perhaps even depressing.  And I admit to being in a "funk" from time to time.  So maybe I am just being "funky"?

A line from Walden by Henry David Thoreau has been running through my head of late.  Maybe I feel it more now because of my situation, but I don't think it is just me.  Thoreau said "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. . .".  There is more to the quote but I will address that later.

I had a pastor once who emphasized being "real" to other people in our lives.  I was struck by that but at the same time realized that most "other" people don't really want to hear my problems.  That used to make me feel bad until I discovered that we all lead lives of "quiet desperation".  I have no idea what is going on in your life, in your mind......I tend to judge by what is available to me on the surface.  When you tell me you are "fine", then I have grave concerns when you do something that isn't "fine".  I have decided that we all live hidden lives deep within ourselves.  It is there that we hide our hurt, pain, frustration, anger, insecurity, fear and a multitude of other emotions and memories.  All those hidden things that can overwhelm us and sometimes cause us to over react, to do dumb things, to even hurt ourselves or others.

I can't speak for others, but from observation, I think we are all in the same boat.  Some days we float pretty well, other days we bail like crazy to keep afloat, and sometimes we let the boat sink.  We run to avoid our situation, or we hide, or we chose to ignore it . . . but it is always there.  Some are wise enough to face life head on, deal with "stuff" and move on.  Others hang on to it . . . in some strange way, we find comfort in what we "know", even if it hurts.  The unknown is more frightening than the pain and frustration with which we are well acquainted.  It seems a shame to be held hostage by our own demons.

All that being said, what do we do?  The rest of the quote is "and go to the grave with the song still in them."  And while the first part is profound enough, this last part is even more profound.  Yes, we have to deal with the things that life hands us, but how do we do that?  I, personally, don't want to go to my grave with "the song" never sung.  And I truly believe that we are all created to sing that "song", to share it with others, to use it to change the world.  But if I live only in quiet desperation, my song will not come forth.  So, do I clutch my painful, prickly "security blanket", or do I cast it aside and venture forth into the unknown?  I can choose.  Choices can be scary.  Do I take this road or that path, do I try this thing or something else, do I trust or not?  Choices.  It always boils down to choices.

And faith.  What do I believe?  Who do I believe?  And while I don't struggle with my faith, there are those days when I begin to wonder if my choices adhere to that faith or vice versa.  God is constant.  I can be volatile. I thought that by this age I would have things figured out.  Not so.

I wish I had all the answers for you.  I struggle with my own turmoil.  But I am less judgmental now of your actions because I know under all that bravado, there is someone living in desperation that has no idea how to access their song, much less share it.  Let us all be kinder, gentler, more caring of others.  Because we have no idea what is really going on behind the scenes.  Let's encourage each other to become a choir that can make a difference to someone or to all.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Obsession

What is our obsession with "stuff"?  Or more specifically, other people's stuff?  We recently had a Yard Sale weekend in Glenns Ferry and it was amazing the number of people who showed up and bought "stuff".  And often it is stuff that I would throw away.

Why?  Are we looking for a bargain?  Or a treasure?  Or what?  I will have to admit after nearly 10 years of operating a thrift store, I am not nearly as enthusiastic about "stuff" as I used to be.  After picking through donations each week, your enthusiasm begins wane somewhat.  But there is still that insatiable curiosity about what might be in the next sack, the next box.  And on occasion, there is a real treasure.  Once we found diamond earrings, so you just never know.

We are planning an auction in August.  Another one of those venues that attract people who have an obsession with other people's stuff.  In this instance, I will be grateful for each and everyone of those individuals.  Personally, I have little patience for auctions.  I want to buy it and leave.  I am not a shopper.  Invite me to dinner, to a movie, to a ton of things......but not shopping.  I remember an uncle who would come home with boxes of "stuff" from auctions.  He had no idea what was inside the boxes, or if he needed it, but it was a "deal" so he bought it.  And then the family had to deal with all those treasures when it fell to them to dispose of it.  This is recycling at its peak.

I read on Facebook that we spend two thirds of our life collecting "stuff" and the last third of our life trying to get rid of it.  That was so close to the truth that it actually hurt.  Initially we moved every few years (or sometimes months) so we never collected too much.  Well, at first.  In the beginning everything we owned went in a 1964 Comet with an ironing board strapped on top.  Then we graduated to a pickup, then to a U-Haul.  With the inclusion of children in our lives, we moved on to moving companies. Now having been parked in one spot for fourteen years, we may have outlived moving vans.

So how does one begin to downsize.  I like my stuff.  I might actually use it someday.  Of course, that someday could be years off.  Some of it I really like and don't want to get rid of.  I really have no use for it, I just like it.  Some are family heirlooms, some are things I have made over the years, some are gifts I got from significant people.  They are meaningful, although not necessary or even useful.

It is a conundrum.  How much stuff do we need?  Can we live without it?  Probably.  Can it be replaced?  Maybe.  Bottom line - can I take it with me?  I expect not.  Will my kids want it?  Some, maybe.  So what do I do with it?  Pass it on to someone else who REALLY needs more stuff?  Haul it to the dump or otherwise dispose of it?  Like I said, it is a profound conundrum.  I am beginning to understand those who choose to die and leave it all to someone else.  Yep......when in a conundrum, take the easy way out.

Just Writin' on the River Road

On the way back

After trekking across Alaska and parts of Canada, it appears that the girls are on their way home.

Wednesday, July 12th
Got up about 8 and we docked at Carcross again about 8:30.  We had our baggage checked to Skagway then went over to hear Paty Henderson's lecture.  He was a boy when the Bananga strike was made in "90".  He was with the four men.  He showed his Indian traps, talked broken English.  Went to the fur farm.  Saw the fox and mink.  Fox were shedding and looked most homely.  Our train left at 10 - had a delightful trip.  Babies and young make interesting company.  Went along t

he shore of Lake Bennett.  Stopped there for lunch, M and I didn't go.  Cost a dollar and we lunched on some candy and spent the time climbing the hill to the old church and taking pictures.  The rest of the trip was wonderful.  High snow capped mountains and water falls.  We stopped first at the boundary between the U.S. and Canada, next at Inspiration Point where a monument is erected to the pack horses and where you can see the trace of the old Yukon Trail.  Went over the high bridge, up Dead Horse Gulch and stopped again at Pitch Fork Falls.  Walked up the trail beside them and took pictures.  U.S. customs inspectors came aboard at the train yards at Skagway and inspected hand luggage.  The train stopped right in front of the Golden North Hotel.  M and I got room 19 on the third floor - $2 a day apiece.  Really is two rooms.  One bed back away from the windows over looking the street and one by them.  I have the bed by the windows but feel sorry for the door thing - it is so tired and sagging.  Did the washing this afternoon and it is drying over the head and foot of my bed.  First time we have running water for many a day.  Had dinner at the hotel dining room.  The went to the Pullen House and heard Mrs. Pullen tell about her experiences - most interesting.  Back here at the hotel at 11.  Mrs. Pullen knew Soapy Smith when he drove a freight wagon.

Jefferson Randolph "Soapy" Smith II was a con artist and gangster of the old west.  He is buried in Skagway.
Thursday, July 13th.

Soapy Smith

Got up about 12.  Made an appointment for 3 to get my hair fixed and then went shopping.  About 2 we went down to look over the Princess Louse.  At 3 did our hair.  About 5 came back to the hotel.  At 6 went to down to see the Princess Louise off.  Mr. and Mrs. Coats, Miss Point, etc. went.  Went down to Pullen House for while, then ate, then back to the hotel and M did a washing.  Eleven now and will try to sleep if our next door neighbors who are talking and laughing and playing the phonograph allow it.

Friday, July 14th

Skagway street car circa 1939

Got up about 8, took a ride with Martin Tyler in the Skagway street car.  Most amusing and very instructive.  Went to the Blanchard Flower Gardens.  M and I both took pictures.  I used one roll of color film.  About 3 went around by the Pullen House to see if Mrs. Young wanted to biking to the lake.  Asked another lady too.  By the time it was 4 we had our party together and we all took lunches with us.  Had a splendid walk, very lovely.  Ate our lunch by the Lower Dewey Lake then Mrs. Young made a ball of a rock with paper around it and we played catch.  Got done about 8 and watched a ball game till 9.  Came back home and took a shower, then to bed.  There is a dance tonight, wish I could go.

Just Writin' on the River Road

River trip on the Yukon

Back in 1939 this must have been the trip of a lifetime, especially for two young girls.  They seem to handle it all with such grace and confidence. 

Saturday, July 8th.  Ten thirty and still in bed.  Got up at 7, had breakfast and then stayed on deck until 12.  After lunch we landed at Selkirk and saw a Mountie.  Also saw some huskies.  The Indian lady with her papouse and four children who got on at a little trapping station, got off here.  Spent more time on deck and then after dinner had a dance.  I danced with the purser, Mr. Gate and Mr. Shedd. One of the crew played and they put up a collection for him.  This afternoon we came to a swift narrow part of the river and went up by cable.

Sunday, July 9th.  They called us at 7.  We were to be at Five Finger Rapids in an hour.  M and I got dressed and had breakfast then took pictures of the rapids.  We went through a narrow opening between rocks pulled by a cable.  Stayed on deck then until 11 when the boat docked for a minute to let those who wished take a four mile hike through the woods to meet the boat farther on.  Got on boat again at Carmack.  Got off at Bute Zantlus (?).  M and I went.  The woods have been burned over by a forest fire and there were thousands of mosquitos and I fell trying to out run them and ruined a pair of silk stockings and lost my haze filter.  But it was fun.  We saw a lake and a truck with chains behind and skids in front.  Waited for the boat which came along about one.  Some deck hands went swimming in the lake.  Had lunch then sat on deck for a while then played ping prong.  Ate a midnight lunch and went to bed.

Monday July 10th.  Slept late.  Didn't get up til ten then watched them load wood and spill some of it in the river.  Entered Thirty Mile River today.  The water is a clear blue again.  After lunch rested and after dinner played cards and ping pong.  Had a midnight lunch.  Passed one part of the Thirty Mile river, narrow and swift, for about ten minutes our boat just stood still then we pulled through.  Passed another river boat, The Whitehorse.  Tomorrow we get up early to start our trip from Whitehourse.  Saw beautiful sunset over Lake Leberge, bright red.

Side note: The Yukon River is also called the Thirty Mile River.  In fact, it is the 10th longest river in the world running for 3,200 miles through Alaska and Canada.  The Five Finger Rapids consists of islands in the river with only one area passable by boat.  Many of these places are mentioned in Jack London's "Call of the Wild".

Tuesday, July 11th.  Got up about seven, had breakfast the checked our baggage.  One bag through to Skagway, the other to the boat at Carcross.  Then M and I walked to Whitehorse Rapids about a mile.  Got a pictue of volcanic rock.  On the way back I got another roll of film.  The train left at 10 o'clock and we had a nice ride to Carcross.  M and I had invest a dollar in a parlor car seat so had an excellent view.  Got to Carcross just at 12 and went right on the boat.  We left in  about 20 minutes.  Mr. Worthum, the scheduling conductor, surprised us by giving us the two extra table sitting tickets so had first seating for meals.  Our cabin was still number 19, a very nice room just as on the Casba.  This boat is the Tuskie.  M and I stayed on deck all afternoon even though it was very windy.  The scenery was beautiful, rugged high mountains, snow capped.  The water was emerald color with white caps.  Got to Bin My Circle (?) at seven.  Walked along a lovely broad path to the house.  Path followed the jagged cliffs that jutted out over the water.  Mr. and Mrs. Swanson, host and hostess, greeted us a the house and we had rhubarb wine and cookies and coffee.  We signed their guest book.  She said every Christmas she reads the names aloud and Mr. Swanson says Merry Christmas.  They have a most beautiful garden, lovely flowers growing at the foot of towering mountains.  A Begonia flower as large as the span of M's hand and huge Poppies and Columbine.  Lovely vegetable garden too.  We took a short walk to see the source of the Talkie Glacier and a water fall.  When we came back, the purser said he would take us to see some beaver dams.  So Miss Yates, who wrote "The World is Your Oyster", another lady, a Mr. Roberts and Mr. Duvan, who owns Zuffy, and I went. The beaver had left that dam so we went on about a mile walk through the woods to another.  It was fun and the purser climbed out in the dam and tried to scare out some beaver but they didn't scare.  We made up story to tell on the boat that we had seen five beaver.  We got back to the boat just at  nine when we were supposed to leave and they were waiting for us.  Sat on deck for a while then went on the lower deck to sing songs.  One of the ship's boys played.  At 10:30 an officer blew a whistle and we had to stop then.  Some of the crew slept at that time.  We came up and had midnight lunch and went to bed at 11:30.

Just Writin' on the River Road.

Into Canada

After celebrating the 4th of  July, Pauline and Margret board a new ship from Canada and continue on their northern adventures.

Tuesday, July 4th.  In Canadian waters and flying the Canadian flag.  High mountains by the river again, lovely scenery.  Took a nap on the top deck in the sun.  M's fever is down to 101, feels much better.  Starting to eat.  We have a 4th party tonight.  I take charge of prizes.  Poor Mr. Poss - the ship's pest, as he is privately known.  At the amature on the other program, he told a most vulgar story.  He wanted to be on this program and finally backed the program chairman in a corner and demanded why he couldn't be on our program.  The chairman, in desperation, told him because the ladies objected to his stories.  Now he is looking like a whipped dog.  Oh dear, now I am beginning to feel sorry for him.  I hope I don't have to let my better nature get the best of me and have to act friendly.

Wednesday, July 5th.  Got off the boat about 9 after customs inspection, got our room, had lunch, slept, took a little walk, had dinner, slept.  About 10 went to dance.  Good time.  Got home about 12:15 - finally went to bed.

Thursday, July 6th.  Got up about 10.  Found out we were leaving tonight instead of tomorrow so signed out to get our room on the Casca - 19, just like the Yukon.  This is a Canadian boat, nice rooms the people say.  The doors open out onto the deck instead of into the dining room as on the Yukon.  Took a walk this morning to the port office and Robert W. Service's cabin where he wrote all his Yukon poetry.  Had a banana milkshake for lunch.  It is cloudy now and the show man is putting on a show at 3 o'clock.

Sidelight:  The Casca and the Whitehorse were the last two sternwheelers on the Yukon River.  Both were destroyed in a fire in 1974.  And Pauline was correct that the Casca had been built in 1936.


Later.  Went to the show but got thrown out.  There weren't enough to pay for running it so we got our money back.  Our baggage was put on board about 5 o'clock.  M and I took our coats over to our room.  It is the same number as on the other boat.  Much nicer rooms though, larger and newer looking.  The Casca is a newer boat, only one or two years old.  Our doors open out onto the deck here instead of into the dining room as on the Yukon which makes it much airier and easier to see the scenery.  M and I put her white mosquito netting over the door, there is no screen, so we can have the whole door open all night and still people can't see in very well.  Swell.  I had a bear steak dinner tonight.  M didn't go back ashore.  Then I came on deck and we sang farewell to the Yukon which sailed back to Nenana at 7.  They said they had never had a group that gave themselves and the crew such a good time as our group.  I had never had a group sing farewell before to the tune of "Farewell Ladies".  We sang goodbye to the ship Yukon, the Capitan and the crew, the cook, etc.  Fun.  We sailed about 10.  They gave us a midnight lunch then we went to bed.  It is now 12 and I can lie here to see the lovely Yukon scenery - green hills with many inlets and islands.  M is just about well now.


Friday, July 7th.  Got up about 9 - then went on deck to see the scenery.  More mountains now - good game country.  This afternoon we saw a bear, a big black one - climbed up the side of tree.  Stopped at Stewart about 11.  Took on some concentrate from the silver mine above there. It is going to the States.  Took a walk alone.  Two men had just shot a bear that morning and we watched them  skin him.  Back on deck met a Mr. King who got on there.  He pointed out a man who is an agitator and trouble maker.  Nicely dressed.  He said the Mounties were watching him.  Saw some Mounties in Dawson.  King also told about the Klondike river boat sinking in June 1936.  He was on it.  After dinner we watched the scenery again.  Boat stopped at a trapper cabin to leave some mail and lumber for a house and a radio.  Then Mr. Shedd and I played ping pong.  They have a real table here.  Played a game with the purser too.  Then had midnight lunch, now to bed.  It is still daylight all night long but not as bright as it used to be.  Resolved to get up for breakfast tomorrow so now to sleep - 12 pm.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Up to the Artic Circle

Pauline and Margret's adventures continue as they head up the Yukon River.  They even meet some famous people on the way.


Friday, June 30th.  Been a grand day.  Got up late....9:30.  The steward tried to get in three times before we got out of the room.  Loafed and played ping pong with M and Mr. Shedd.  About noon the boat stopped to put a marker up on the bank.  After lunch we played more ping pong and played cards.  After dinner we did the same.  It has been a warm lazy day -swell.  About seven we stopped at Purgatory - bachelor brothers live there.  They have the dock fixed up by the land and one brother stands beside it and waves his hands.  One is quite a poet and artist and their hut is full of things - they are trappers.  About ten we stopped at Beaver.  Here were real Eskimos.  The married women have tattoo marks on their chins.  There is a little government school.  Stopped about 12:30 for wood along the shore.  Saw the sun set about 12:32 and rise at 1:50.  We talked with one of the pilots, he is very nice.  He took us up to the pilot house and we stayed till two when the sun was well up.  Got to bed about 3 o'clock.

William Yanert

Side light:  The bachelor brother that Pauline met was William Yanert, a cartographer from Prussia.  He lived with his brother at a spot they called Purgatory for 37 years.  He was a poet and artist.  He is quoted as saying Purgatory was "one hell of a place to live."

Saturday, July 1.  Were in and out of the Artic Circle.  We entered the Artic Circle about 6 this morning.  I got up about 10.  This morning we took on some more wood.  After lunch, about 2, we stopped at Fort Yukon.  M mailed all our cards.  Then saw the sights - church and school.  Bought a beaded moccasins  done by the Eskimo ladies - 75 cents.  Back on board we watched the children scramble for money people on the boat tossed them.  Sailed on then after talking with a girl, 22 - who runs a trap line 280 miles back in the wild.  Two sisters, mother and father made about $5,000 on furs this year.  She had never been outside.  Left the Artic Circle about 8 tonight.  Got a picture of things and played ping pong then had a dance.  Danced with Mr. Shedd and Mr. Coats.  Went to bed about 11 - rather tired.  Have a book to read.  They have a little library on the ship.

Sunday, July 2nd.  Got up about 10.  Went on shore at Circle.  They had some beautiful dogs.  And old Eskimo woman showed us the church.  There is no minister there but she keeps it up.  When I came back M was sick.  Still is.  I had lunch, played some ping pong, stayed on deck.  Went to church at 2:30.  A colnel (sic) chaplin led it.  Had chicken and ice cream for dinner.  Went out on the lower deck where the crew amused us by playing the accordian, a mouth organ and making a wooden doll dance.  Then they showed us the Alaska shotish (sic).  It is fun. Went upstairs and set the phonograph a going and practiced the shotish (sic) some more.  A lady who is a nurse came to M.  Left some pills for her to be taking every hour.  I stayed on the deck till 2, then lay on the top bunk.  Didn't undress so not to disburb M.

Monday, July 3rd.  M still sick.  Changed into my slacks about 9.  Came up on deck and ate an orange for breakfast.  Day pretty much routine.  Played ping pong.  Stopped at Eagle about 11 o'clock.  Very nice town.  Well kept and lovley flowers.  M. had a fever....103 tonight.  There is a nurse and doctor on board.  They suggested I move to an empty room.  So I did.  Slept well.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Family

Family.  We are all familiar with family . . . parents, siblings, cousins.  Family, however, comes in more forms than just a blood connection.  Family is a group of people with whom you share a very intimate, bonded relationship.

We have discovered one such family in these last few weeks.  Not that we weren't aware of it, but we had not been an intimate member of this portion of the "cancer" family in some time.  Sitting in

Our new family!

radiation oncology's waiting room is an experience that I hope no one ever has to share, but if you do, let me tell you what you will find there.

First, there are no secrets.  They talk about their cancer as we discuss the local gossip with a morning cup of coffee.  What kind?  What treatment?  What drugs?  What side effects?  What is the prognosis?  How do you feel?  There is no shame in the fact that they are sick, perhaps even deathly ill.

Second, it is the most positive place I have ever been.  These people encourage each other in ways that the rest of us can't even begin to understand.  They cheer each other on, celebrate each little bit of success.  They are happy, joking, empathetic, supportive......and I am not talking about the employees (although it is true of them also), these are the people awaiting treatment.  Each and every one is taking their turn with "the machine" that will burn and destroy some part of their body, but in spite of it all, they march forward heads held high and a smile on their face.  And they go with the support of their "family".

Third, it takes only a few minutes to be included in this family.  They know and remember your name, age, birthday, and any other amount of information that floats in and out of the conversation.  There isn't time for the mundane like politics, or television or news.  There is only time for the "family" that they meet every morning in the waiting room.  The openness and laughter are contagious, you enjoy being with them.

Ready for treatment.

This "family" that we will know intimately only for a few minutes for a few days will impact our lives forever.  How is that possible?  Is it the terrible circumstances?  Or is it because the unimportant things of life are stripped away and that which is really important comes to the forefront.  Ultimately, once this treatment is over, we may never see any of them again.  And yet, they have impacted our lives in so many ways.  Here, when you say "I hope I don't see you again." it is the most wonderful thing you can hope for...…..that you never see them again under these circumstances.

And lastly, the room literally vibrates with faith.  Whether the patient is a believer or not, they welcome everyone's prayers.  The loved ones whisper their concern about the fate of their family member, asking for others to pray for their health, yes, but ultimately for their salvation.  Sometimes we have to be stripped naked to see what is really important......the waiting room in radiation oncology does that.  You come away with wonderful, painful, insightful details of so many lives.  But the one thing I have never sensed there is fear.  I am not saying that is isn't there, they just don't focus on it.

When one is faced with death . . .  something we all talk about but never really deeply think about until it becomes so defined in our life . . . , when it hits us in the face, we see for the first time just how fragile and "human" we are . . .  now we get to choose how we handle it.  I admire each and every one of this new family.  They are facing the ultimate fear and overcoming.  I pray that I will face everything in life with such courage and positivity.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Up the Yukon River

Not just a tourist, Pauline has contact with former acquaintances on her trip.  Life in frontier Alaska seems to have taken its toll.

Wednesday, June 28.  Hotel manager called us at 5:45 as we had requested.  It was really hot during the night.  We slept all night with only a sheet over us and wished we didn't have that.  El Dory came about 6:10.  She looks much older and shabbier - sort of weather worn.  Had a nice visit while M and I packed up again.  Paul is in the 8th grade.  Barth has work now and expects to get along better this year.  E. is going to teach Paul at home for a couple of years.  Found some more facts about Fairbanks.  Today it was 107 in the sun, a bunch of carrots cost 35 cents.  El said she would love to have an avocado.  They have a garden patch and are trying to dig a cellar.  El has neuritis and it hurts her to work.  Barth suffers from time to time from loss of memory.  Paul seems to be a good worker but is not interested in school.  She walked over to the station with us about 8 - 9, paid the taxi driver $2 and he said he would take her home.  Otherwise she would have had to wait until 12:30 to take the bus and then walk a mile.  It was hot and she wasn't well so I thought I better see she got home since she had come in just to see me.  Barth comes through town to work with his neighbor and she rode in with them.  Our train left at 8:30.  There is a standing joke that the Alaska railroads are mentioned in the Bible - "God mad all creeping things"!  Got into Nenana about 11.  We had our tickets and got our room number on the boat - room 19.  I saw that our baggage which had not been checked got off the train - then we went on the boat.  We were suppose to sail at 12, but Mr. Shedd's American Express party lost all their baggage.  The train carried it off.  They had to take a hand car and bring it back.  We finally sailed about 3 o'clock.

Is our room ever small.  I think it must be 6 X 5 feet.  Two bunks, one above the other, with a water basin with a pitcher of water that runs into the pan under the basin. One of us has to stay in bed while the other is working or standing up.  M and I are assigned the second seating for eating dinner -  was good if not fancy. And does it taste good.  After eating lunch - usually at 12:30 for the first sitting and 1:15 second  - but we didn't eat till about 2.  After we started down the Tananah (tributary of the Yukon River) we said about an hour and then stopped to take on wood.  The boat just pulled up along the bank of the river and they laid a gang plank down and they piled wood onto little cards and the crew brought it on the boat.  About 15 cords I think the captain said - takes lots of wood to run  our sternwheeler.  We then continued on our way.  The scenery was lovely and it is warm and balmy on deck - lots of fun.  Had dinner about 7 tonight.  Then went on deck again.  Came in a played ring the man with several people.  About 10 we went out to watch the sun set.  Then same some songs in the lounge.  Mrs. ---- from Long Beach playing the piano.  Went to bed about 12:30 - still daylight.  It never gets dark anymore.  Sun sets about 10 and rises at 11:30.

PS.  Had a midnight lunch about 10:30.  Delicious berries.  All kinds of meals served during the day
too.


Thursday, June 29.  It was hot last night.  I bounced around considerably in my upper berth.  Got up about 7, put on my slack suit and went to breakfast.  Had a half a grapefruit, didn't need anything more for the midnight lunch stuck by me.  We were docked at the town of Tananah this morning located about at the mouth of the Yukon.  Stayed about three hours while we loaded lumber, corrugated tin for roofs of interior homes.  Walked about a quarter of a mile up the shore to a store - M was not up yet.  Saw lots of skins.  The trappers had been in with their catch.  They had beaver, fox, bear, wolverine, wolf, coyote.  Has some parkas made up too out of caribou and reindeer skins.  The wolf skin was 8 feet long!  Waited at this store for the boat to come up.  It stopped there at 9 - it is now 12:30 and we are on our way again  - up the Yukon now so we go slower.  I'm sitting on the top deck in the sun and getting burned.  I have no need of a coat, it is very warm.  Almost time for our dinner now.

Got stuck on a sand bar last night about 3 and there was much running about and pushing, but we got off all right.  We made a stop about 3 miles above Tananah at the Mission of Our Savior.  A missionary and his wife coming back from furlough got off there.

5:30.  First sitting for dinner is now being moved.  Our turn will come in about an hour.  The river has narrowed somewhat, the mountains rise majestically on each side.  It is raining now and occasionally there is a streak of lightening.  Still warm though.  I wrote my post cards this afternoon, all ready to mail at Ft. Yukon.

11:45.  Read for bed.  Had dinner then went on deck for a while.  Talked with Mr. Hall and Mr. Carney a while.  Then cam in and sang songs - then had midnight lunch.  The rain is over and it is warm and balmy again.  Have a mosquito bite in my eye that is swelled up.  M is reading a story to me - then to sleep.

Just Writin' on the River Road