Hi,
Monday I was off of work and started the day with the usual repertoire of
washing clothes, checking bills, checking and writing emails, meeting my boss to
tell her I was leaving for Public Health Nursing,--oh wait that was new--and
going to the post office. I stopped at the fire hall to check on the snow
machine we had left to thaw, and a number of folks were there getting ready to
go up on the hill behind town to dig the grave of the former fire chief. I
asked John if they needed help and he said there would be plenty of locals
there, he was just going because he knew the chief and his family. He was not
sure if he would be needed either. I told him that in that case I would continue
on the missions I had planned for the day and would come back Saturday to work
on the machine. After picking up a couple of packages that were at the post
office and dropping them at home, I started out to go to the grocery. I glanced
up at cemetery hill and could see a few vehicles up there. A sense of duty came
over me as we volunteer for the fire department and know a few of the folks
involved. I had also met the former chief as he was a frequent visitor at the
fire hall. So I turned around and headed for the hill figuring I could at least
offer my services even though I wasn't dressed for extended exposure to minus 14
degree weather (at least the wind was still calm). On arrival, there were about
12-15 men with three jackhammers, two generators, a pickax, and a number of
shovels. A rectangle was spray painted on the frozen ground after the snow was
removed and the jackhammers went to work. The ground was as hard or harder than
cement and gave way grudgingly. A routine began of jack hammering out squares
of dirt, then shoveling it or hand tossing it out onto a tarp laid out for that
purpose. It was really slow going. There are many graves on top of the hill
and they are all seemingly right next to one another. I asked how they know
where to dig. I was told the family requests the spot and there was an elder
there who introduced himself to me as Homer. He told me he is the official grave
digger. He directed the workers as to where to dig and
also provided instructions throughout the process. He made a wide arm gesture at
the cemetery telling me he was responsible for all the graves I saw. After about
two hours of hard work and three feet of excavation we finally broke through the
frozen earth to what I would not call soft dirt, but at least not frozen like
iron. The going was slightly easier then and as the pile of dirt beside the
grave grew, I noticed a white vapor rising from the pile. I then realized the
dirt was warmer than the ambient outside temp and was steaming in the extreme
cold. Looking up provided a site of some solemn and some smiling faces, almost
all with ice attached to facial hair, eye brows and lids, and around the masks
or hats we all wore. I did not know most of the men there but after a while
they started introducing themselves to me and invited me to the coffee,
sandwiches, and drinks they had brought. Of course all this was inside the
trucks which were kept running with the heaters on all the time. I mentioned
that I had not dressed properly and my toes were numb. I was promptly invited to
sit in one of the trucks until I warmed up. I accepted the offer of warmth and
sat until I could at least feel my toes. Returning to the dig I took a long
look around and noted the beauty of the setting. The hill is behind town
elevated probably a few hundred feet up, so the whole town is visible along with
the mountains across the sound, the frozen expanse of water to the southwest,
the coastline north and south, and the tundra to the south east. The sun was to
the west, the almost full moon was visible to the east, the sky blue above and
maroon along the horizon, and the air was clear. There were some kids walking
up the edge of the hill and sledding down to the frozen back bay. I Looked at
John and told him that I was in awe of where I was standing, of standing among
these men, and being accepted by them. Looking down at the men in the hole I
could see ice crystals covering their backs, for as they sweat from exertion, it
would wick out of their clothes and freeze. When we were about three
fourths finished, a couple of local women came by with homemade donuts and soft
drinks of which we partook with relish. It took about a total of four hours to
finish the job. After, the hole was covered with a simple white sheet and then
two pieces of plywood. I was thanked for my help which made me feel real good. A
note of interest is that the coffins are all hand made locally, as are the
wooden crosses, some of which are simple and some of which are elaborate.
The chief was buried on Tuesday. There was a service at one of the
churches during which dispatch did a final tone out for him by name. (A tone out
is the horn sounded by dispatch on the radio all fire department personnel and
volunteers have. Each tone is different to distinguish a fire alarm, a visual
fire, or an ems call.) We did hear this as there is a radio in the ER and on
inpatient. It did bring a tear to quite a few folk present. Following the
service was a procession with the fire trucks and personnel, but we were unable
to attend as we all had to work.
On a lighter note (I think). One of the Kotzebue police cars was vandalized last week. It seems the perpetrators doused the inside of it with seal oil. Now this may not sound like much, but then again it is probably unlikely that any one of you has ever smelled seal oil. The locals use it to store meat and berries in, as a dip for fish or meat, and sometimes as a medicine if they have tummy aches or other maladies. When they clean the seal they use a certain set of clothes and then they don't use these clothes for anything else. The odor is distinctive and it doesn't come out. You just have not practiced medicine to it's fullest until you get a patient who has been eating seal oil for a stomach ailment and may or may not have been vomiting. The smell just oozes out of their pores. The report is that it will take about 10,000 dollars to refurbish the vehicle. It was a Tahoe with a fair amount of radio equipment in it which was totaled by the incident.
I realize I have been quite chatty lately and I hope that you are not getting an overload like some TV show that has run to long. I just get the urge to type and away my big fingers go. Hope you enjoy it, I do.
Carlo
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Last updated:
08/29/05