Alaska - The Reason

 

The Reason

I’ve been putting off writing this episode of our trip until it ends, but as endings tend to do, this one has ended.

The Alaskan weather today is exactly what we expected.  It’s heavily overcast and chilly, the sky densely clouded, and Mount Drum is hidden far behind miles of dark gray fog that has settled in for a long, damp and dreary presence.  The mosquitoes don’t care and are taking it out on us.

As most of you know, I “lost” my daughter Jeni in 2002.  She wasn’t misplaced. She died.  It will be 20 years in just a few months. Long before that, in 1991, she ran off to Alaska for a summer of fun, dig the land and relish her life.  She and I corresponded by letter mail in those days.  Can you imagine how much I wish I had kept every letter?  I can. I did not.

My ulterior motive for this Alaskan summer was to connect with Jeni in ways I had not done before. My wish was granted.  I’ve felt her beside me as we drive these empty roads, walk the scratched out trails and enjoy the friendly and pleasant nature of so many people we’ve met here.

My emotions have been on edge more often than not, and it’s a feeling I’m not used to.  Soon after we arrived in Copper, we learned our dear friend Dean had suffered the untimely death of his brother.  I called him with condolences and found myself weeping over the passing of a man I’d never met.  I’ve felt my eyes welling up here and there listening to people talk about their children. With a small group of fellow veterans and a slightly larger audience in attendance, I participated in raising the flag to full mast at noon on Memorial Day. My voice cracked as I made some brief remarks in honor of those who had died serving our country.

It's no surprise that Jeni was a wild child and free spirit from the start until the very ending of her short life.  She was born at the very apex of the '60s revolution, the spawn of love struck teenagers without a whit of parenting skills. Jeni's lullabies were listening to Cass Elliot belting out ballads from the living room Kenwood.  She knew the words to “Nights In White Satin” before she learned her alphabet. She saw Jimi Hendrix when she was two. Jeni told me the first car she could remember us owning was our 1963 VW microbus.  And I can recall driving her to parks and playgrounds in that old wagon.  I wore a Nehru jacket and had a full head of hair.  We dressed Jeni in striped denim bell bottoms, madras tops and leather headbands. Jeni always found the steepest slide, fastest merry go round, and wanted to be pushed so high on the swings that the chains would slacken at the top of each climb. By the time Jeni became a teenager, she was well equipped to emulate the undisciplined, random and live for today lifestyle in which she grew up. I encouraged her to do it.

And that takes me back to the reason I wanted to spend so much time in Alaska.  I didn’t want just a trip. I needed more than a cruise stop. It could not be a vacation.  I wanted to live here, work here, suck it up and experience life in this place as she did.  I was hoping to connect with my daughter again. I wanted to feel her close to me. I needed to know that she was still more to me than a memory.  And it happened.  Jeni is. She’s not was.

I’ll let Jeni close out my Alaskan story as if it were hers with this letter she wrote me in 1991.  She was 23 and free.  How very much I wish it had been me.

July 22, 1991

Hi Dad.  I'm still just surviving here in Kenai. I finally found work on a dock pitching fish out of boats. It's only part-time, only when boats come in - which is not often enough. The work here won't be lasting too much longer either. It's quite the bummer and though the work and money situation is not as planned, I'm having a pretty decent - if not different - summer here on the coast of the Kenai peninsula. At the moment I'm relaxing in a small camper trailer with four of my newly acquired friends. We're in Kasilof, a town without a town, about 25 miles outside of Kenai off a gravel roadside. Today we've been fighting complete boredom with complete insanity. We're all quite the artists and music junkies. So after a vicious game of poker using pieces of paper as chips, I drew a different picture on each new chip acquired.  Others followed suit and soon we were all quite absorbed in drawing our different interpretations of reality.  Been listening to various alternative artists today.  Eating fried biscuits with honey and rolling Bugle Boy cigarettes. Times are hard.  Haven't had a dime for a week. My daily luxuries of Kool cigs and a few coffees is now only a dream of previous times. Raw top ramen has been my best meal this week.  Wow.  I myself feel shocked at the limits I've overcome in this eternally long period of life.

What's next? A question in my mind whenever I'm not thinking of my recent romance. The two thoughts are like night and day. One vague, confusing and unstable, the other bright, fun-loving and true. As mentioned, the carnival was not the right choice. I came back to Kenai after 4 days. I plan to leave Kenai on the first weekend in August to attend the Talkeetna Bluegrass Festival in Talkeetna. It's the best thing in Alaska to do overall. I'm not sure if I'll come back to Kenai or not. Like I said the money is nil and I don't even know if I'll be leaving Alaska by Summer's end. If I do manage to get out before October I'll take the ferry down to Seattle and then hitch back to San Fran and stay with Lilly for a while to get it together. 

But who knows? Anything could happen. Life continues on cycling and turning me in different directions as each new day begins with unlimited possibilities.

Well just thought I'd write a short note from the land of green bears and purple mountain skies.

Hope all is well and to hear from you again soon.