Yep, I'm back again,
I know I just wrote yesterday but here I sit again this Saturday
night feeling like I just need to verbalize.
Today dawned overcast and cool, in the upper 30's with a brisk
breeze blowing. Patty and I had breakfast then around 11am we headed out
to the medevac hangar to help with the open house there. The plans were
to have the medevac plane, a helicopter, the ladder truck, and an
ambulance on display. Door prizes and hot dogs were also on the menu
along with a raffle that included two round trip tickets to Anchorage or
Seattle from Kotzebue, a number of different types of bikes, and even a
handmade afghan (the kind you cover up with). After arrival Patty
helped with the raffle table, give always, and door prizes. I got to
stand by the helicopter and a duplicate of the med-bed located inside
the medevac plane. There was a good turnout and I didn't even get a
hotdog, not that I need one.
After the open house Patty and I rode out to the lookout point
outside of town which is accessible now with the thaw. Looking out we
could see across the sound to the mountains on the right, the beach
going off as far as the eye could see to the left, and ice with ribbons
of water snaking across the surface as far as the eye could see towards
Russia. The tundra behind is speckled sparingly with patches of
leftover ice and the town of Kotzebue, visible over the right shoulder,
almost appears like some wet creature looking miserable as it shakes off
the water and snow.
Just 4 weeks ago we were traversing that tundra on snowmachines
while chasing caribou. The beach below is clear enough to ride on and
inviting, but the access is still packed with snow. The loop road
behind town is clear and made for a pleasant ride home, especially as we
got to see many new species of birds that are now showing up daily.
It's times like this that makes us question the thought of leaving.
I don't fly medevac because of my weight but through our activities at
the hospital and with the firedepartment we support it. We are accepted
by the folks that do those jobs daily and consider them all friends.
Then there's the bragging rights that a long departed pharmacist
mentioned to us once as we shoveled out our 4 wheelers that had
themselves become snowbanks in a passing storm. There is the flight to
Point Hope we took just a few weeks ago and other village trips. There
are the hello's and greetings of folks that have called this place home
all their lives. There is the occasional thank you's from folks I cared
for in the past that I did not even recognize as they are now fully
dressed, upright, and smiling. Then there are the shared happy moments
and tragedies that make me believe that even if we left here, our
footprints would stay behind. Yes they would fade, but I do not think
they would do it rapidly.
I recall a conversation I had with a respected member of the
community a few months after our arrival here. He told me that even
though what we do may not be readily noticeable, the effects of our
efforts may show up much later, possibly in the next generation or even
in their children. In essence he was saying that we may not grow a tree
while we are here, but the seed we plant may go on long after we are
gone.
During the same conversation he told me about his wife. He spoke of
how a past ancestor of hers, "a beautiful native girl", met a seaman and
fell in love, a love that produced the love of his life. Through the
conversation I could tell how much he loved not only his wife but his
children too. This man lost his wife not long after that conversation in
a tragic accident. I attended the services for her that were held on a
day where the temps were cold and the snow was blowing. There were so
many people there that the doors to the church were left open even with
the cold. On arising the next day, it was clear and absolutely
beautiful with untouched virgin snow as far as the eye could see.
Why am I sitting here writing?
That space represents how long it took to continue writing. It
should be a lot bigger.
I mentioned in the letter yesterday about the recent losses in the
region. I found out that the three deaths in Selawik were three young
people out on snowmachines-one young man and two young women-and they
all went through the ice. Two of the bodies have been recovered but
they are still searching for one of the girls. The other man I
mentioned is still missing and probably will remain so. As we were
riding today we passed a number of folks with SAR carrying long poles as
they have resumed the search for the man missing since the Christmas
blizzard.
Now I suppose I come to the real reason for this letter. Last night
there were two suicides in Kotzebue from two completely unrelated
incidents. One was a young man who shot himself and the other a young
woman who hung herself. The young woman worked at the local grocery
here and upon hearing this Patty and I both looked at each other. We
were in the store yesterday and both noticed the cashier had tears in
her eyes. I was tempted to say something in an attempt to cheer her up
but for once in my life, I held my tongue. We are almost certain after
finding out who it was that it was this young lady.
Two separate unrelated suicides in one night in a town of 3000.
Springtime in the Arctic is the most deadly time of year as the travel
conditions are so marginal and unpredictable. Also for some reason,
suicides sharply increase in the spring and when there is one completed
attempt, there usually are one or more attempts some of which are
occasionally successful.
Tonight is prom night.....................
Could we have made a difference? Are we making a difference? I just
don't know.
I also don't know what I'm trying to say but I guess I just needed
to say it. I hope you don't mind me sharing it with you but if you do,
please let me know.
Carlo
For problems or questions regarding this web contact
carlo@samsicles.net
Last updated:
12/28/05