Snow day!

Yesterday, it snowed all day. As I looked our window, it took only seconds for the light flurries to change to a fierce gale. The house rattled with the bellowing wind. When the wind stopped pounding , the house was quiet and the snow returned to a slow, slanted mist. Every so often a bolt of sun burst through the clouds, polished the water and quickly ran away. Brave Seagulls and Ravens coasted on the icy air. The water was unusually choppy, rocking the large fishing boats moored to the dock. The mountain snow crept down through the surrounding hills to the sea. This week it has been so cold that I have resorted to wearing a new uniform; my insulated running pants, wool socks, turtle neck and fleece…and that is just around the house. I ordered two new coats from Land’s End (that name taking on a whole new meaning) praying that one of them will keep the wind out and the warmth in. They should arrive in the next two weeks. In the mean time, I am making do with my ski jacket. Yesterday I just shook my head in my disbelief, knowing that we haven’t even begun to feel the worst of it yet... only to wake up to a beautiful blue sky snow day….

Another great week...

I found my grandma’s recipe for Chocolate Chip Zucchini Bread and Andrew and I made two delicious loaves. Andrew was a little apprehensive about adding the 2 cups of zucchini but the end result was a big hit. Dashing my anti-baking reputation, I shared a few slices with Andrew’s teacher and classroom assistant.

Andrew had a fun week at school. He is learning to type and has been word processing his fiction story of the “Invisible Teacher”…soon to be publish on a prominent blog sight near you :) Mrs. Wright, his Tlingit instructor, is teaching them in how to say the Pledge of Allegiance and “Trick or Treat.” She has threatened not to give candy to anyone who does say the magic words in Tlingit. Math-wise, Andrew is running around with a tape measure measuring everything from my leg to the perimeter of the living room. After breezing through his third grade math book, Steve and Mrs. Bidiman have decided to let Andrew join the fourth grade math group. He is excited about that.

We are reading a bunch….Andrew and I just finished reading a great book called “The Sign of the Beaver.” A pioneer story that tells of the awkward but lasting friendship between a Native American Indian boy and boy from Maine. Drew cruises through his own chapter books every week plus the books he picks out from the library. We are 9 chapters away from the suspenseful ending of Harry Potter Book 4...I am often seen trying to balance an umbrella and reading Harry Potter while walking to school, Andrew circling around me on his scooter. It is an odd sight but both of us love the story so much we try to fit it in where we can.

Wednesday, Hoonah had its first assembly of the year, culminating a three week sports eligibility period. Steve, along with his staff wanted to change the pervasive disregard for classes and the large number of students on the ineligible list. From consistent tardiness to blatant teacher disrespect and failing grades, the staff set into place a ticket reward system and a “three strikes your out program.” The assembly was to promote positive behavior and team building. It was a lot of fun…wig wearing wrestlers danced to a peace and love song from 60’s, the grades battled it out in a tug-a-war challenge, eventually won by the freshman class, a free-throw basketball tournament was held, and a math challenge was given to five guys and one girl. The senior girl took home the prize. At the end of the assembly, tickets that were given out for good behavior over the last three weeks were put into a drawing. Here is a picture of the students that won $10 in carnival tickets for the Nov. 9th Carnival. Each three weeks more prizes will be given out. The students are enjoying the positive reinforcement and the entire school is benefiting from a improved learning environment.

We can’t help but miss home, our family and our friends, but as we watch the news we also realize how blessed we are that Steve has a good job, we are all healthy and together. We are blooming where we are planted…it may be little more challenging for some of us to bloom in 29 degree weather but we're blooming nonetheless. Thanks again for reading and for your emails and comments. I am honored that you choose to share in our Alaskan adventure with us. Until next Saturday………..have a beautiful week.

Eavesdropping on Success

I want to give a shout out for my husband…

I was standing at the copy machine making some copies for Andrew’s teacher, when the reading specialist poked her head into Steve’s office. As she stood at the door and expounded, I overheard the following conversation….

“I hope your ears were burning because, I just left a conversation between the high school teachers. They are so impressed by the work you are doing. You are doing the job of two positions. You are so organized. The staff is happy. The kids are behaving better. I just wanted to pass on the good things that are being said about you. You are doing a great job and everyone is thrilled.”

Steve’s reply was so like him (and probably why he’s not Superintendent of the year or in some cushy state job)….he said, “Thank you, but….” and humbly gave all the credit to his staff for taking the action. He is so not a self promoter and I love him for that.

People stop me in the school halls and along the sidewalks and tell me what a great job he is doing. He gets emails from his staff complimenting him on his communicativeness, positive behavior ideas and the logic in which he resolves a wide range of difficult problems. In two-and-a-half months he has saved the school money as well as brought in thousands of dollars for the district. Steve has effectively addressed some challenging discipline issues in the high school. He is breaking new ground by engaging parents in open and constructive conversations about their children’s success in school. In addition, he is making great strides on the Career and Technical Education Wood-burning program which helps the environment and gives high school students authentic, real-life learning experiences. He works hard and strives to make the system run itself through empowering his staff and establishing a clear operating system that is easy to execute.

Being a Superintendent/Principal is a tough job no matter where you live but some issues that Alaska administrators face are; the largest numbers of students affected by fetal alcohol syndrome in the country, race issues, high drug and alcohol use, high suicide rates, high staff turnovers and very limited budgets. Not to mention, guiding a school board to make crucial decisions, when they know nearly nothing about education or running a financially sound business. I do not envy Steve’s job in the least. I respect him for fighting the good fight in a sincere and ethical manner. He even bought a student and alarm clock, knowing there was no parent to help this student get up in the morning. He is a problem solver for difficult issues and a great leader that humbly credits others when success occurs. I knew Andrew and I was lucky when we met him. I know the town Hoonah thinks the same.

Sacred Heart Catholic Church of Hoonah

Week two of getting a sense of Hoonah’s religious community brought us to the Catholic Church of the Sacred Heart.

I walk by Sacred Heart Church, some four times a day, to and from school. One day, I noticed a posting on the door. It read that a Deacon would be in town to serve communion that Sunday. I thought it would be nice to meet the Deacon and see what the Catholic’s were up to in Hoonah.

Andrew and I arrived at five to 11, quietly entered and were greeted by Deacon Charles. He was tall man with curly hair and glasses. He wore loose ivory vestments that bore a design of grain and water. He shook our hands heartily and then gave us three books. One was the missal with the scripture readings for the day, one was a music issue and the last book was prayers to be said in the absence of a Priest. Andrew and I were well prepared with literature to maneuver through the service. It is a good thing well coordinated.

Andrew and I sat in the second row of folding chairs. (These fold-out chairs had cool fold-down padded kneelers) The congregation consisted of four other people. Sitting across the aisle was an older couple, behind us was a Spanish speaking lady and Rich, the forestry coordinator who is working with Steve on the Wood-burning Project. He was in the back playing the guitar.

The service started and I fell into the religious motion that I have known for over 30 years. The part of me that loves to know what is coming next in life, cherishes the predictable organization of the Mass. Catholic means universal. The Catholic Church wanted to provide a service, or a Mass, focused on offering the Eucharist in the same ritual around the world. In one hour, a Catholic Mass gives attendees a chance to sing familiar praise songs, read the same scriptures, and pray in unison words taken from the Bible or crafted by the devote leaders of the church. I have attended mass at St. Marc’s Square in Italy, St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City, and now in Hoonah and all ceremonies are the same. It is an amazing mega-religious franchise. Of course, it is riddled with, as any huge corporation, with human error and an intense difficulty to control the quality of its product. But the focus has been and always will be on the Eucharist….and when a Catholic parishioner believes in the real presence of Jesus…the redundant prayers, bad music, and a weak homily are a small sacrifice to endure. For only through the Mass can he take part the greatest gift of being with Jesus at the Last Supper once more. For a Catholic, taking in the real body and blood of Christ is as close to Christ as a person can be.

The praise song stops….again, I feel as if I just sang a solo. I look and smile at Andrew and he just rolls his eyes at me, knowing that mom is always the loudest singer in the room. The Deacon shares some announcements, mainly, the plans for a Priest to come more regularly to Hoonah. We read five pages of unison prayers from, “Prayers to say in the absence of a Priest.” It is now time for the scripture readings. The Deacon looks at the “congregation” and asks if anybody is interested in reading from the Old Testament. After an awkward silence, his eyes fall on me. I guess he assumed that because I wasn’t afraid to sing on my first visit, I wouldn’t be afraid to speak either. I slowly go up to the lectern muttering my apology for not being more prepared.(yeah, right) I quickly scan the passage….thankfully there are no names like “Reuel”, “Eliphaz”, “Jeush”, or “Oholibamah” to confuse my tongue. I give a smooth read and sit down. Once in my seat, I realize that I was so nervous about reading that I forgot to genuflect before approaching the alter and after the reading. (Shoot, and I was doing so well, too) We now sing the responsorial song. Rich amps it up a bit and is carrying the melody quite nicely. It is time for the second scripture reading. The Deacon wastes no time in nodding at me. I am up in a flash…I genuflect and give solid reading from Corinthians. I genuflect again and sit down. I am relieved that my time up front is done. The rest of the Mass is up to Deacon Charles. He reads the Gospel and gives a short Homily; tying the messages from the readings to his experience of being a professional Icon painter. He then unwraps the previously consecrated host and all but Andrew received communion.

It is always a tough call for me to take communion during a Catholic service. I love receiving communion. I do believe in the real presence, but I am not a practicing Catholic. In respect of the rules of the Catholic Church, I shouldn’t take communion on my whim. Yet, in this case, I do, figuring in the end God alone can judge my heart.

We sang one more hymn and church was concluded. Deacon Charles served store bought sandwich cookies, coffee, and tea at the back of the church. Andrew snagged a couple cookies. I just smiled and winced. It felt a little awkward watching the eating and drinking in the sanctuary. After a few minutes of standard conversation, Andrew and I said our thank yous and goodbyes (which don’t take very long where there are only five people) Deacon Charles escorted us to the door and asked me about Andrew’s preparedness for first communion. It was a very awkward moment. I was polite, respectful and appropriately vague. I opted for the safe response that kept me uncommitted. I didn’t feel it was the right time to go into my religious beliefs.

It is a complicated subject for me. While I enjoy attending a Catholic service, I don’t feeling comfortable passing on the legalistic aspect of religion to Andrew. There are a lot of rules. I realize that they were created to honor Biblical teachings and assist people in becoming closer to God, but for me they are more of hindrance and distraction. I know it worries my mother and confounds my some of my siblings. Some may agree, others may blame my ignorance, but ultimately I am accountable to God. I don’t have all the answers and I have a lot to learn. Yet, I believe God is so great that no human or religion can articulate His wonder, much less organize the perfect path to heaven.

"Outta the Park....Mom?"

This week’s outdoor highlight didn’t include spotting a bald eagle, gazing at a snowy mountain peak or watching a whale jut out of the frigid water….nope… the outdoor adventure of the week included an all-American vigorous game of softball played with some twenty elementary and junior-high school students.

Before leaving Medford, I anxiously packed all sorts of sports gear in our luggage and even paid a hefty fee for bringing the extra baggage. My rationalization was that it would easier for Andrew to transition to living in Hoonah if he had familiar things to play with. I packed a soccer ball, flag football set, football with a tee, two bats, mitts and loads of balls, ranging from whiffle to hard. So, a couple of weeks ago I go to Steve, holding a gear bag and relay my discovery, “Surprisingly, Andrew has not asked to once to play with any of these things.” He just smiles knowing from experience that kids rarely need much “gear” to be happy. I sit perplexed actually trying to remember the last time we played a “sport” game. I concluded that it was soccer and it was my idea to play.

Monday afternoon I had another idea. I wanted to play ball. I loaded up my Ashland Co-op cloth bag with two mitts, balls and a metal and wooden bat. When I met Andrew outside of his classroom he took one look at the bag and his eyes lit up. In a flash we were making our way to the dirt field…he waved to a couple of his friends and yelled for them to come hit some “homers.” As we poured out the well-used of our bag, a reluctant, tall sixth grade girl watched from the sideline wearing a shy hint on her face. With little prodding, she gladly joined our game.

I was designated pitcher. One after another, students stepped up to plate. Trendy tennis shoes planted and bat back, spring-loaded. Before I let the ball travel over the plate, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Their sweet faces were smudged in awkward anticipation combined with pure and innocent hope. As I prepped each pitch, the glint in their eyes read, “Please, let me hit the ball. Ooooohhhhh please let me hit the ball.”

Soon we had so many kids wanting to play that I stopped and divided us into teams. Batters ranged in ages from 6 to 13 years old. The bats and mitt were either too long or too short, but nonetheless balls were flying, fouling or striking in every direction. I didn’t set any ground rules and it became a free for all. There was a slew of stolen bases and over throws. We didn’t have an umpire…so if was the pitch was a ball or a strike was anybody’s guess. It was jubilant, competitive frenzy and we all loved it. Finally, it was my turn at bat. Tina, a tomboyish girl in basketball shorts, spitting out the side of her mouth, quickly pitched me a perfect ball. I slammed that red soft sphere “outta the park.” I took all four bases with hands raised and performed a victory dance over home plate.

Andrew had a great time. He didn’t send every ball to the outer rim of the field, but he didn’t care. He ran fast, stayed on base and brought in valuable runs for his team. He pitched a few fast balls that scared a junior high batter; one because it was fast and two because his other pitches almost took his head off. Andrew played shortstop, left field and any base that wasn’t covered. He made some outs and held his own beautifully against all the “big kids.” As I watch him play, I am amazed by how he thrives in all environments.

Kids came and went, but in the end we played hard for an hour a half. Flushed faced and bounding, Andrew went happily into his piano lesson. That night during Andrew’s prayers he thanked God for the nice piano teacher and the great baseball game. The next day, the talk in the halls was all about our game. Even Rene, the 5th/6th grade teacher told me that her students were talking about the home run made by Mrs. Pine. Mmmmmm a mom who can hit home runs…now there’s a much better reputation than “Carpet Lady” or “Weather Girl.”

When I was waiting for Andrew to pull his scooter out of the bike rack, the tall, 6th grade girl that joined us in yesterday’s game asked when we get to play again. We made a deal: the next clear day I’ll bring the bats, mitts and balls…she’ll bring the victory dance.

Contest Winner, Bear Spray and Ultimate Dodgeball

Here's some more highlights of our week together...

1. Andrew won the coloring contest in his class. His art will be displayed at the post office and his prize was a huge ice cream cone full of chocolate-chip ice-cream from “The Galley” restaurant. I wish I would have brought my camera…because he was in 7th heaven savoring every lick.

2. Some of Steve’s friends went out of town for a week-and-a half and loaned us their Ford Explorer. After I bought some “Bear Spray” (huge, huge dose of pepper spray) we did some exploring. For all of us, one logging road after another got really boring. Plus the clear cutting was hard to dismiss so we headed back to the waterfront and walked along the beach. I enjoyed using the car to help transport a few oversized household necessities but, overall, I stuck to the walking. It just feels better.

3. Another beautiful rainbow...

4. Andrew invited me to go to lunch with him at school (I brought my own lunch of hummus and veggie sticks). After fifteen minutes of the kids slurping split-pea soup and wolfing down ham sandwiches and strawberry apple sauce, we all went outside to play ultimate dodge ball. For another fifteen minutes I ran for my life. Balls were coming at me from every angle. It was fast and furious and a lot of fun.

5. Another glorious sunset....

Speaking "Tlingit" with Class

Every Tuesday and Thursday at 11::45 I walk to Andrew’s school to attend his noon language class. For a half hour Mrs. Wright teaches us the Native American dialect of Tlingit. I wanted to share with you some of what I’ve learned about the history of the Tlingit people and their language.

The Tlingit people are one of 500 Native American communities spread throughout the United States. It is difficult to say how many Tlingit people lived in southeast Alaska before the Europeans arrived in the 1700’s, but today there are about fifteen thousand Tlingit living in the Alaska region, some even as far south as Seattle. Hoonah’s population is 80% Native American Tlingit.

The history between the Tlingit and the Euro-American settlers unfortunately reads the same; injustice and cruelty that affected our more high profile U.S. Native American communities. The Russian’s arrived in the 1700’s and Orthodox Priests learned the native tongue to convert the Tlingit to Christianity. In the process they converted everything from their clothing to their hairstyles; dolling them up in European frilly white dresses and black tailored suits. Sweeping the native women’s hair into updos and cutting the men’s hair short. The Russian’s settled on their land, mined for gold and built shops in their communities. But not until the 1800’s did Hoonah feel impact of the “white-man.”

American bought Alaska from the Russians in1867. Now it was American’s turn to bring their version of civilization and organized religion to the Native people. In 1878, an American missionary, Rev. S. Hall Young of Sitka, happened upon the small Alaskan village of Hoonah and wrote…

“We next visited the Kowdekan (Hoonah’s “original” name), the largest village of the Hoonya tribe. It is located on a deep bay on the North-East shore of Tchitchagoff Island. The population is 625. They are simple hearted, primitive people. The women are comparatively unpolluted and the children numerous. They have constant communication by canoe with Sitka and Fort Wrangell. We should make this one of our chain of mission stations among the Tlingit people.” Later he added, “We found the Hoonahs about the most receptive of all the Alaskan; and this was the beginning of what has been one of the finest and largest of our Alaska missions.”

The missionaries gave little care to the twenty-five hundred year old Tlingit culture and banned most everything that resembled or alluded to the native traditions including their language. As mission schools were erected in 1881, all students were punished heavily if they spoke their native tongue. They too were forced to shed their functional clothing and wore uniforms of dresses, white shirts and pants. In addition, families were split up and children were dispersed to residential mission schools on surrounding islands.

The elders preserved the Tlingit language in their homes but after almost a hundred years of American influence there were several generations that grew up barely able to speak or understand their native tongue. By the 1970’s schools weren’t run by missions anymore and a resurgence of the Tlingit culture began to grow. Some of the elders started to teach classes and share the old stories. For thousands of years the Tlingit language was passed on orally. It wasn’t until 1972 that linguists began to interview and record Tlingit families to create a written documentation of the sounds, words and stories. In 1990 the Sealaska Heritage Institute made language restoration a priority and began to teach Tlingit to a growing body of students. Entirely funded by grants, Tlingit has been taught in Hoonah schools since that time.

It is a complicated language. A simple sentence is full of pinched consonants, whispers, plosives and glottal attacks. The written text is based on our standard alphabet but added are a series of accent marks, periods, under linings, apostrophizes and capitals that change the pitch, the letter sound and the meaning of the word.

They have fourteen different adjectives to explain snow, six different verbs for putting on different articles of clothing, five different ways to make the “k” sound. It is not an easy language to learn.

Over the last month-and-a-half Andrew and I have been practicing the names of different articles of clothing and how to say the item is mine.

My computer can’t show all the accents over certain letters but I will do my best to give you a sense of it…

Ax Naa. Adi Aya. ( ack na adee ayah) = These are my clothes.

L’aak aya. (pinched “l” makes a clicking sound…klagk ayah) = Dress

L’ee x’wan aya. (klee kwan ayah) = socks

S’aaxw aya. (saackww aya) = hat

Ax tuk’ataali aya (ack took a tah klee ayah) These are my pants.

They have wonderful names for the months…

July, August and September are one long month on the Hoonah calendar.
It is called Distlein (dis-klane) – “the big month, time to gather everything, time to keep busy.”

October is called Shaanax (shah-nuck-dis) – “the month to go to the mountain to get mountain goat”

November is called Kukahaa Dis (koo-kuh-hah-dis) – “the month in which you shovel snow”

December is called Lkeeyi kei u.eix (Lh-kee-yee-kay-oo-ake) – “the month when you can’t see the corners of the house.”

Because the Tlingit people live in a rain forest, they are expert wood carvers. They are especially famous for carving totem poles. A totem pole can honor a person who died, help people remember a story or stand as a welcome in front of a house, school or community center. They are not used as religious objects. The Tlingit people have never worshipped the poles or the symbols on them.

This is one of the totem poles in front of the school and it tells a story of a fisherman who is holding a halibut hook to catch very big and heavy fish. The eagle figure also displayed at the school was originally a bottom of a house post. House posts were built into the walls at either end of a clan house to give clan recognition and to support the roof…early functional art.

I have enjoyed learning a new language and understanding more about the Tlingit people and their history. Steve, Andrew and I are the minority in Hoonah, treading lightly in wounded streets, ever aware of the past discrimination. Yet as Steve sets out every day, he strives to prepare these young students for a world of limitless potential, where the past does not equal the future and all can come together for a better world.

It drives home the unique opportunity that my family is experiencing. I am grateful for the lessons that I am learning and the awareness that would otherwise be void to Steve, Andrew and me. I am thankful that Andrew is learning respect for another culture, not from a book or a movie… but from playing baseball with Austin, speaking an ancient language to his Tlingit partner Brandon, and slapping high fives as he and Randy finish the ultimate race car ramp. To me, I believe, that is how God’s mission is truly served.

I joined the local Book Club!

I joined the local book club. We are reading this great book called “Catfish and Mandala.” I highly recommend it. I am halfway through and I find the story exciting and the writing, yummy. Here is one opinion about the book...

Amazon.com Review

A great memoirist can burnish even an ordinary childhood into something bright--see, for instance, Annie Dillard's An American Childhood. So what about a really good writer with access to a dramatic and little-documented story? This is the case with Catfish and Mandala, Vietnamese American Andrew X. Pham's captivating first book, which delves fearlessly into questions of home, family, and identity. The son of Vietnamese parents who suffered terribly during the Vietnam War and brought their family to America when he was 10, Pham, on the cusp of his 30s, defied his parents' conservative hopes for him and his engineering career by becoming a poorly paid freelance writer. After the suicide of his sister, he set off on an even riskier path to travel some of the world on his bicycle. In the grueling, enlightening year that followed, he pedaled through Mexico, the American West Coast, Japan, and finally his far-off first land, Vietnam.
The story, with some of a mandala's repeated symbolic motifs, works on several levels at once. It is an exploration into the meaning of home, a descriptive travelogue, and an intimate look at the Vietnamese immigrant experience. There are beautifully illuminated flashbacks to the experience of fleeing Vietnam and to an earlier, more innocent childhood. While Pham's stern father, a survivor of Vietcong death camps, regrets that Pham has not been a respectful Vietnamese son, he also reveals that he wishes he himself had been more "American" for his kids, that he had "taken [them] camping." Catfish and Mandala is a book of double-edged truths, and it would make a fascinating study even in less able hands. In those of the adventurous, unsentimental Pham, it is an irresistible story. --Maria Dolan --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Books, Boy Scouts, and Bach

Temperatures have dropped and the first snow of the season sits high above our little village. The morning air is brisk and clear but by the afternoon heavy clouds bring rain and sometimes hail. Folks are taking the cool cue from nature and are preparing for the harsh winter. The sound of chainsaws and axes splitting wood grind through the usually quiet streets. I am thankful for this slow introduction to my first Alaska winter, for I know the short, dark days and heavy snow will soon arrive.

In addition to adding extra layers to our morning outfits we have added a few things to our schedule…

We started piano this week (yes, we) and thankfully located a keyboard to bring home for practicing. We were both quite nervous about our first lesson, but Mr. Olsted was very nice and patient. I am working on a Bach Invention, Clair de Lune by Debussy and a Kulau Sonitina. Andrew is picking up where he left off with my mom with four new pieces from his book. Mr. Olsted also wanted Andrew to listen to and work on one of the Suzuki pieces. We both have our work cut out for us. But even Steve has been inspired and is plunking out some music on our loaner-piano. He is re-teaching his fingers the impressive chords from Erik Satie’s third Gymnopedie.

We are all striving for balance in our life so now that we added the music lessons ….Andrew asked to join Cub Scouts. I was reluctant because I so enjoy the down time we have acquired and frankly, I was nervous about all the bad press the Boy Scouts receive these days. I decided not to stereotype, put my judgments aside, and do my own background checks.

Hoonah Boy Scouts is led by Major Loni. She is a female and a blood relative of the real Laura Ingles Wilder. Major Loni is also the Salvation Army Church Pastor and the tee-ball coach. It is strange to me that a lady is in charge of the Boy Scouts, but I’ve watched tons of Little House on the Prairie shows and I am sure Laura could out-survive me any day. They meet once a week and from what I hear from Steve and Andrew they do cool boy things. (Steve made it all the way to "Life Scout”…which is the level just below Eagle... his parents moved to Japan where he didn’t have the opportunity to finish) I am, seriously, going to do the criminal background checks just for my own piece of mind, but as of today Andrew is officially a Cub Scout. The first thing Andrew did when Steve and he came home from the meeting is hand me flyer about fundraising…so beware… an email may be coming your way :)

We scored a used couch and some dishes from one of the teachers at the school. Yahoo! Now we can sit and snuggle together rather than all three of us being spread-out throughout the room in those funky black chairs.

We went to a Title 1 program called “Cocoa and Books” that brings parents and kids together to read to each other. At the end of the evening the student is able to keep two brand-new books of his or her choosing.

We had another great week. We really miss you all. Thank you for reading. It is the highlight of my Saturday to publish these posts. I love that we can share our Alaskan experience with you even though we are many miles apart. Steve, Andrew and I wish for you all to have a wonderful week and we hope that your days are filled with love, beauty and peace.

My Lutheran Heritage Visited

It was a passing introduction at the school’s open house that led me to spend the next four weeks church hopping in Hoonah.

Andrew and I visited the Lutherans, the Catholics, the Fellowship, and the Salvation Army Church. Which one will be our home church? That will be revealed in a few weeks. Today I would like to share with you our first church experience….

Surrounded by little ones and parents, I made my way through the halls to Andrew’s classroom when a tall bearded man with smiling eyes introduced himself as Mike, the Lutheran minister. The only Lutheran service I have attended has been a funeral, but for some reason I asked what time his service started. “Sunday at 11,” he replied. It was without hesitation that I agreed to attend and come Sunday at 11, Andrew and I were there.

The Harbor of Light Lutheran Church is the only house of worship located on Main Street. The building is owned by the Presbyterians of Juneau, although there is no Presbyterian service offered in Hoonah. Mike, his wife Justine, and their two boys just moved from Aloha, Oregon 7 months ago.

Andrew and I, with umbrella in hand, walked through the rain and quietly found our way inside, up the stairs and into the small, cozy chapel. Its layout is traditional as chapels go; wooden pews, creaky floors, center alter, old piano, organ and church bells on a rope that the Vicar rang at the top of the hour.

The congregation consisted of 12 people, including Andrew and me. Many were involved in the service as musicians, lectors, candle lighters and Carol, the Librarian of the school, was also the Alter Society. As I looked over the bulletin, every last name seemed to be of Norwegian origin; Vikor: Micheal Borg, Violinist/Alter Society: Joyce Olsen, Guitarist: Arnie Erickson, and on it went.

After ringing the bells, the Pastor led the entrance song. His loud, booming voice carried the melody until he rapidly switched to blowing the trumpet for the last two verses.
Pastor Borg incorporated a story of Peter Olshiem, a famous Norwegian architect, into his sermon. We said the Niacin Creed, The Lord’s Prayer, and had communion. All rituals felt very familiar because the format and many of the prayers were identical to that of a Catholic service. But it was singing of the hymns that brought on a different sense of familiarity. Despite the harsh twang of the piano and reluctant singing congregation…the hymns gave me a flood of loving images. I pictured my father growing up attending a Lutheran service much like this one.

I could see him tucked snuggly between his Mother and his eldest sister Gladys, followed in line by his three older sisters. His Father would sit strongly and proudly at the end of the pew, the anchor of his beautiful family. When the time came to sing the hymns of praise they would all stand, never fearful to lift their voices in perfect harmony. Grandpa Leines was a baritone, he sang the bottom line of music, Grandma Mithilda was an alto taking the second line, perhaps Auntie Grace and Auntie Millie would sing soprano while Auntie Gladys and Romie would switch between alto or soprano…just to show off. But my Dad would always sing the third line down. He was a tenor…from those early years as a young boy and all through his adult life. Dad’s voice was pure, melodious, perfectly on pitch, and a sound that I still hear clearly today.

Sitting there on the cold wooden pew in Hoonah, I flashed back to the many times I sang with him. When I was young, I loved joining Mom and Dad at the piano. Mom would practice for Sunday services and all three of us would harmonize to the entire song line-up for next morning. Mom would sing melody, I reveled in the alto register, and Dad would soar on the third line down. It was such a safe place….those black notes written securely between my mom and dad’s voice. While we sang the hymns in this service, I wished that I could find that place again. Yet it seems that God has me singing melody and in this atmosphere …He’s got me singing solo.

Even during the past few days of his life, sacred hymns were important to him. I recall his nieces, my mom, my siblings and me gathered around his Hospice bed singing to him, “In the Garden.” It was his mother’s favorite hymn and he knew all the words by heart. Our voices joined together…mostly melody at different octaves with some random harmony squeezed in. Nevertheless, the music brought a smile to his face, he mouthed the words and lifted his tenor voice to join in song one last time.

The church service concluded with a bold ensemble of instruments and singing…abruptly bringing me out of memories of my sweet father. When we were done, I placed the hymnal gently back in its place. Andrew and I were invited to join the others in an eclectic buffet of hot chocolate, tea, ginger cookies, biscotti, chips and mango salsa. I enjoyed some tea while listening to bear stories. Andrew quickly drank two cups of hot chocolate while munching on biscotti and giggling at the kid table with Pastor’s sons.

The Lutheran church was a comfortable introduction to the religious community of Hoonah. The people were welcoming and the rituals familiar. Yet it was the strong connection I felt to my father that was the true surprising comfort. It felt so good to visit with him on this Sunday morning, to see his handsome face, to sing with him once again, to hear his voice in harmony with mine. My earthly father gave me a bounty of beautiful memories and in this odd little place it brings me so much comfort to know he is always with me. How can I ignore this touching duality reminding me what is infinitely true of my heavenly father as well? He is my Harbor of Light.

Happy Birthday Ryan!

Happy 8th Birthday Ryan!

You are my best friend :) I miss you and wish I could be at your birthday party. Have a great day. I am sending you a big Alaska Bear hug!

Love, Andrew

Playing in the Rain

In Hoonah there's no waiting for the rain to stop. Playing in the drizzle is a must.

Saturday we got all bundled up and headed to the park. Steve and Andrew attempted to play Frisbee golf. Though they had a fun time…visibility was tough and the game lasted all of a few throws. We shot some hoops. Andrew rode his scooter on the skateboard ramp. It is made of metal…so you can imagine… he was slipping and sliding all over the place. I took a lap around the gravel track. We were quite a sight and surprise, surprise…the only ones playing at the park.

Sunday after church Steve cuddled up with a good book, but Andrew and I needed to get outside. We went down to explore the shore. The tide was out (at low tide it drops anywhere from 10 to 23 feet) and we found all sorts of fun creatures from star fish to yummy sea weed. We threw rocks into the water and watched a couple sea otters play.

Tuesday night we were treated to the 6th through 12th grade band concert. It was truly an enjoyable evening. Bob Hutton, the same person that took Andrew and Steve fishing, is the music teacher. Over half the student body (50 students) takes classes from him. The music was diverse and the students played well. The hour-long concert ended with four jazz pieces, by far, the highlight of the evening. There is some real talent in this group and it was obvious that Bob’s heart belongs to jazz. It was fun musical evening plus it felt great to go on a date:)

We had to wait all week to get any sunshine at all but it was worth it. Friday not only did the rain clear but we were given a rainbow as well. It was beautiful, crisp clear day. Jackets were off and feet were dry. The sun said goodbye over the harbor taking us into the weekend in a picture-perfect way.

Flying with the Force

Throw away the directions, forget about follow the rules…let the force guide you. Embark on a creative journey of the imagination. Introducing Andrew’s “Flying with the Force” Lego Collection. Featuring… Super Battle Droid, Anakin, R2-D2, and General Grievous.

Super Battle Droid Ship
Complete with invisible guns, triple enforced escape pod cockpit, two stair cases providing easy entrance and exit with convenient handlebar, safety reflectors act as hidden missile launchers.

Anakin’s Fighter Ship
Reliable front positioned missile launcher gives extra blast to enemy forces, invisible wheel escape pod carries Ankin and potential passengers to safety (secretly stolen from General Grievous upon his untimely death), camouflaged sphere strategically carries missile and laser holder, dual purpose antenna for radio access to fellow Jedi’s or enemy negotiations and laser blaster, plus a hand crafted indestructible cable with 100% launching accuracy to lasso enemy ships.

R2-D2’s Safety Ship
When flying this ship R2-D2 never fears the enemy. With 6 escapes placed throughout the vehicle, emergency get-a-ways are as easy as a push of a button. Also this ship is a highly reinforced battle machine. Two complete rotation guns centrally located can take out enemies from all sides. Similar to the Battle Droid Ship, safety reflectors act as hidden missile launchers.

Droid Ship

Four double ended reflectors, stolen from General Grievous’s body guards, give extra fighting power to front positioned Battle Droids, one “fantastically big” missile reserved only for large aggressive enemy ships, nine escape pods ensure that the entire crew plus passengers can exit quickly in case of an attack. General Grievous, vulnerably placed, is armed with double light sabers and laser blaster and is not afraid to fight his own battles, although, in the end, his death in certain.

Steve's Keepin' it Green

Aside from the greatest concentration per square mile of Brown bear found in Alaska, Chichagof island is situated in the middle of the Tongass Rain Forest and boasts an abundant and varied crop of…what else; trees! And so it is that we’ve decided to take the federal government up on its offer of funds dedicated to alternative energy. The gentlemen you see in the picture are working with me on an application that will enable our small school district to acquire and install a wood-burning boiler at the school site. Our current heating-fuel prices are in the $5/gal range and take a large bite out of our school’s budget. This expenditure will be reduced by almost 75% as we complete this installation. The boiler will in turn allow us to begin a multi-faceted project that not only leads to major cost savings for the district and hopefully allows us to reopen our swimming pool, but creates two or three very viable vocational education options for the students of our area as we partner with the mill you also see in the pictures. Our two-year plan is to provide a regional vocational training center that includes students from the University of Alaska in Juneau, which is just a short 20 minute flight across Icy Straight. I’ll leave you with the rest of the story yet to be told, but I’m sure you’ll learn more if you stay posted to Tricia’s weekly blog as she continues to depict our daily challenges and accomplishments.