Fly's Alaska

http://www.newsminer.com/view/full_story/6459797/article-Athabascan-linguist--tradition-bearer-Katherine-Peter-dies

His grandmother was a good writer.  I will be hunting down her books...
 http://www.amazon.com/Neetsaii-Gwiindaii-Living-Chandalar-Country/dp/0933769113


http://talkingalaska.blogspot.com/2010/03/katherine-peter-1918-2010.html

Alaska Native Language Archive  insert, Peter, Katherine.  you will get tons of stuff

The archive has sound files of her speaking.  they take a while to load up. 



Alaska has a rainforest, did you know that?

Tongass National Forest

Fly went to school, mushing on a dog sled,  how cool is that?

And in the summer he went to fishcamp with his family to catch the Salmon.

 This is next door to his camp

and this tiny pic is he and his mom.

THE LOVE OF SHARING OR NOT

THE LOVE OF SHARING OR NOT

(names have been changed to protect the innocent)

One day, my youngest daughter BJ came running in the house. Mom…mom… BJ screamed, the neighbor girl ran over a mouse outside with her bike. I, being curious went outside to see what she was talking about…Eeeegads… Is that thing ugly! Had to be half dead if it got run over. I picked it up and brought it in the house. Checked it over very carefully... Hmmm…what is this creature??? Never seen anything like this. It is totally hairless... 1 head, 4 legs, 1 stomach and a loooong skinny very hairless tail.

Eyes are tightly shut…very wrinkly…hairless……eeeegads…ugly!

But, it was breathing so this meant it needed attention.

We were getting ready to go camping the following weekend so I asked my friend Sharon to tend to this creature, which by now we figured was a baby squirrel. Well, we named him Tippie since we figured he either tipped out of the tree or a jealous sibling gave him a boost. In the latter case, we could have named him Booster…

We had to set our clocks for 4 hour interval feedings which were with a syringe and after each feeding we had to stimulate Tippie for fear of him exploding.

Off Tippie went…a weekend retreat with Sharon and her family…a hubby, 3 kids, a doberman, pug, and 3 cats.

Sharon fell in love with Tippie as so did I but I had to hand him over to Sharon while we went camping.

When we arrived home from our camping weekend, I called Sharon to bring Tippie back. She fell even more in love with him and decided to keep him. Her husband MJ hated the idea but I shared. When she would shower, Tippie was right in her hands lathering along.

Days, weeks, months went by and Sharon let Tippie have the run of the house. Tippie must have been lonely one day and we all know that squirrels like to chew on wood. Well, Tippie didn’t just chew on the woodwork, but also on MJ’s solid oak six foot beautiful handcrafted gun cabinet. I’m glad I shared. Was this the end of Tippie??? Heck no… MJ was ticked, but that didn’t matter. Tippie still was able to run loose inside the house…til one day one of Sharon’s kids broke a basement window. Tippie decided to venture the outdoors. Sharon was on her way to work one day and there lies Tippie underneath the bridge…just about as flat as the day we found him but this time he was not breathing. Hmmmm second thought…maybe I shouldn’t have shared.

Halloween not for me!

Halloween not for me!

Picture this:

Senior year of high school. My friend Sharon and I decided to go trick or treating. Back in the 60’s you could go from house to house for miles and miles and believe it or not, with no adults hovering around you. People were much more trustworthy.

Even tho Sharon and I were approaching our 18^th birthday we wanted to go trick or treating one last time. For good times sake. Probably our last til we started our families.

My mom was very laid back. Mom, Sharon and I want to go trick or treating. Can you help us? Home made costumes are the best. Anything goes! Well, since my dad was a milkman, he had bib overalls. We borrowed his bibs and flannel shirts and mom took some coal from the coal bin and rubbed it on our faces. We went as cute little hobo’s.

House by house…

Knock knock knock…

Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!

After getting a good ½ bag full of goodies, we are on our way back home. We walk up the walkway to this one last house, open the door and enter into a screened in porch. We knock and a woman dressed in a habit opens the door. She took one look at me and said “Steve, you are too old to be begging for candy”. “Who the heck is Steve” Sharon and I asked each other. We both just shrugged. She was a nun! An official nun! We decided to get out of there before she ripped our disguises to pieces. She ruined everything!

I always wondered if Steve was a student of hers…

Poor Steve!!!

After high school friends get lost but memories stay. Mom captured that moment. It is displayed with some of the best.

Thanks mom!  Ily

Gifted One

Gifted One

My dad and I were very close. When I was younger I always wanted to hang on to his hand so I would say “Yet me hang on Yover”. Dad was a milkman and I used to go on the route with him. I had to take the orders up to the homes and bring the money back to dad. His leg bothered him so his movement was slowing. He had a sore on his leg that was the result of a car accident years ago and it would not heal. He had a skin graft done and it failed. Then another and this one took. He was healing nicely and finally getting back on his feet.

One day I took my oldest daughter K for a walk. Dad stayed home. He was just lounging around still in his jammies. We weren’t gone long and when we came back, dad was laying on the living room floor listening to music. He loved music. He sang in the choir in church. He had many friends that were also choir members. Being a devout catholic, after mass they usually met at the local bar which was kiddy corner from the church. They had to wetten their whistle, play a couple games of euchre or cribbage and put a nickel in the jukebox and sing some more.

Time for supper dad…dad, time for supper…c’mon Eug, time to eat. He tried mumbling something but we could not make it out. I called the ambulance. Back in them days, we did not get the fast response as we do now with EMS. It took almost an hour before the ambulance finally came for dad. He was rushed to the hospital with a severe stroke. With a stroke, you need to thin the blood asap. This was not done. It hit on his left side of the brain and affected his right side of the brain. His walking, talking, singing, eating, showering all ceased. He was taken to the VA and they did not even start therapy on him. Reason---he had a blockage in his groin and if he stubbed his toe it could move to his heart. So, they didn’t want to waste anyones time with therapy. They were thinking he was going to die within minutes, hours, days. They sent him home with me, my hubby, and at that time our oldest daughter K.

I was bitter…

Dad still would go to the bar and drink and sing in his own voice but this time a voice where his words are unrecognizable. Dad would stumble and fall and that darn blockage that could have taken his life never moved to his heart.

He passed away 9 years later. I was not bitter anymore. I was so happy to have shared 9 more years with my dad. I was the lucky one. I had received a gift. A gift of having someone special in my life for an extra 9 years. I am a gifted one.

When dad died, we were all at his side in the hospital. Did the stroke take his life? No…Did the blockage take his life? No…

He died of gangrene of the stomach at the age of 55.

Dad…I miss you!

just go...

JUST GO...

I HATE YOU!

GO AWAY!

NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!

I NEVER WANT TO FEEL YOU!

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?

I WANT MY LIFE BACK!

JUST GO AND LEAVE ME ALONE

JUST GO........................

my man

high school…best friend sharon

wedding…maid of honor...best friend

one year later…best friend says vows

families started…drifting apart

many years later…reunited

mean words of jealousy

drifted way apart

seven years later…reunited but with caution

best friends bitter divorce

illness sets in

waiting for death

i want your man

forgiven but not forgotten!

and the winner is...

and the winner is…

When I was maybe about 8 years old, I used to spend a lot of time at my aunt and uncles house which was just across town. Way back then (and even now) during the summer time parks would entertain kids with teaching them how to make bracelets, keychains, etc out of intertwining different colored plastic strands. We would also have water balloon tossing on very hot days. Making sure balloons popped so we could replenish our bodies with moisture. Contests were held with walking from one side to the other with a peanut shell on a butter knife. The team that made it without dropping their p-nut shell –were the winners. My team was always so-so. We’d win some…we’d lose some.

One hot summer day they were holding a freckle contest. Oh boy…It’s a sure win for me. I spend a lot of time in the sun. In fact when I was  really really little---like still in a playpen, my mom, dad, brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins used to go to Bennet’s Island and go bullhead fishing. Everyone is catching their share of bullheads and occasionally a catfish or carp. The hot sun is making its way across the earth. While everyone is flipping their cane poles in and out of the water, they forgot about me sleeping in the playpen on that hot hot sunny day. I had 2^nd degree blistery burns. I was little enough not to remember this, only remember what I had been told.

Anyways…getting back to the freckle contest. I am a true red-head, very light complexion, spending a lot of time in the sun. I entered the freckle contest…first place prize is a big bag of goodies. The bag was tied tightly with twine and you get to have your picture taken. This was a big deal…a big deal to me and my competition---cousin Dale. He had brown hair, darker skin than mine but he also had freckles.

There were 5 of us that entered the contest.

One is eliminated…

#2 is eliminated

#3 eliminated….oh my chances are getting better…now it is just me and cousin Dale. The judges look at Dale then Reese. Then another look at Dale and another look at Reese. Finally they have made their decision.

and the winner is…

I walked back to my aunts house…empty handed---no picture

spring...rosie's choice

spring…rosie’s choice

One of my favorite times of the year…

birds chirping~

buds opening ~

beautiful bright and pastel colors~

trees branches are filling with twigs.  the twigs are  budding and shaping a clothlike textured leaf with lines running through them which are called veins.

If you watch carefully, you possibly could see a flower blossom, a leaf grow, grass turn green, butterflies float in the air, dogs being walked, children running, playing…

You can hear the birds chirp, bees buzzin, mating call from the mallards, children singing, screaming…screaming because they feel unleashed.

Spring is my favorite season…

As I sit in my house tonight with temperatures reading 11degrees and snow plows going through the streets, sanders making their way I say:

“Spring Can’t Come Soon Enough!”

All alone am I.....

Alone:

(names changed to protect the innocent)

Boy, do I know something about this subject.

About 25 give or take years ago, I was asked to play on a co-ed softball team with my hubby, cousin Donna and her hubby Bill. I, along with hubby, were THE oldest ones on the team. We are called “The Saber Tooth Squirrels”.

We had at least 5 years on the other players. I don’t think I ever threw a softball much less hit one with the stick so there was a lot of preparation that had to be put into this one. Bill recruited a bunch of his young co-workers to be on the team. Day after day they worked with me. Throw harder…throw faster…keep your eye on the ball…hit the ball…catch the ball…run…run faster…Bill is the one who would do the line up and positioning of the players. You had to rotate girl, guy, girl, guy, etc… I was the absolute slowest person on the team…(hmmm I still am slow) and Bill would make sure Todd, a little speedy Gonzales was next in line…yup right after slow-poke Reese. If I was lucky enough to get on base, Todd would be next and he was such a show off. Todd would catch up to me, me running with all my might and him barely at a trot.  He was not allowed to pass me up but there were times we were running side by side.

We entered into a tournament one summer. It was a very hot day. We played the first game and had time some spare time before we had to play another so we got a quarter barrel and went to a park just down the road and talked and laughed and drank and drank and drank. Now it is time to go back to the ball park and challenge the next team. We were first at bat. It was my turn. Whoa…which ball do I swing at? I see more than just one. Hmmm… I take a swing at anything…pow…I hit the ball. I put one foot in front of the other and I was running-running-running…all of a sudden down down down I go. Not sure what happened. I’m guessing my upper body got ahead of my feet and down I went. Laying there…in the dirt…face down. Not a single team mate would come to see if I was ok. I lay there in embarrassment. Can’t someone just come and help me up? Let me hide my face.

There I lay….alone!

Down on my belly, in the dirt, arm bleeding…

and alone…

I hear the umpire holler YOU’RE OUT!

The last time I fit in...

The last time I fit in…

Rosie’s pick of the theme. Rosie and JC are writing in a timed room.

When Rosie said she had a good theme for the morning, I thought “oh boy, the last time I fit in”….hmmmm…fit in what? I jokingly said “a size 5 jeans”? Let’s see, the last time was probably a few…maybe more than a few years ago.

When I married, I weighed 98 lbs and was a size 5. I birthed my first child and shortly after, I automatically downed to the size 5. I birthed my second child…again downed to a size 5. I birthed yet another child…only this time I didn’t down,,,I upped and upped and upped. So in reality, the last time I fit into a size 5 was about in 1975.

Yyyyyyup! That’s the last time I fit in……………………………………..

bored...

High school sophomore year…

You know how it is when you talk about a couple…Rosie & Dan or Lucy & Desi or Jack & Jill…sometimes the males name come first and sometimes it’s the female.

Since there were three, I will refer to us as me, Pat and Fran.

Pat & Fran were a year older than me but we were in the same grade. We did not go to grade school together but we knew of each other. Our friendship grew stronger as we reached high school. We were together almost every weekend.

Pat & Fran despised school with a passion. They seemed to skip quite often. Fran lived right across the street from the school and they would “hide out” there for the day staying away from the windows so no passer-by’s would spot them and turn them in.

One day, Pat & Fran were caught…oh oh…detention time!!!

I was bored…my best friends were in detention…..what am I suppose to do while they are sitting in a room absolutely doing nothing and I was on the outside of the detention room also doing absolutely nothing. Well, Pat was seated in a chair visible to me so I would gesture something to her and she would just secretly try answering me with her eyes or one hand cuffed around the other or nod her head one way or the other trying not to let Mr. ___ see her..... Ahhhh…didn’t take long and Mr. ___ caught on and quietly walked to the door and stood right in front of me…motioning with his index finger to come, follow me.

I ended up in detention room along with my best friends but for disrupting his discipline room, he added an extra day of me sitting, alone, doing absolutely nothing and being bored. My friends didn’t hang around…

Self-forgetfulness

I'm reading an article about Henry Stanley, famous for his search for Livingstone in Africa. Around the age of 33, he proposed marriage to Alice Pike, 19. She accepted and he began his three year trek from the East coast to the West coast of Africa with her picture and a letter of her undying love for him in his pocket. Of the 220 men who started the journey only half survived the dysentery, accidents and other calamities which occurred.

While writing about the adventure he credited his survival to his fiance, Alice, his love, "my stay, my hope, and my beacon". He was able to fixate on her rather than the horrible conditions surrounding him. He called this ability 'self-forgetfulness'. At one point in their journey, a decision, which he opposed, was made to wait at a camp for additional porters who never came. Eventually, they continued on but Stanley reported, "The cure for their misgivings and doubts would have been found in action, rather than enduring deadly monotony." He occupied himself with discoveries and writing, shutting out "baser thoughts".  Stanley saw the work as a mental escape: "For my protection against despair and madness, I had to resort to self-forgetfulness; to the interest my task brought...This encouraged me and was morally fortifying."

Action vs. boredom. Any activity is better than boredom. And so, I write, draw, make valances, take drives, play with the dog,  learn something new like TONK, and read the Smithsonian magazine. And I learn about self-forgetfulness, a worthy topic.