Alaska Dispatches
# 7  —  23 October 2000

Ups & Downs

Piniq is indeed a land of ups and downs. 
I’m not sure what about this place has me so down today. Perhaps it is not having real friends, or not having something specific to focus on, or the cold, or no restaurants or fresh food, or who knows what. I want to get back into something, to sink my teeth, to write a book, to make a movie. I know that it is up to me to decide and to focus on something. And I should keep in mind the value of the time with my family and with myself, and the rareness of this opportunity.
Have I missed the fall hunting season? Do I really want to head out into the cold to hunt today? I have a bunch of new gear, and I want to try it all out. But I am also worn out from our trip back from Cleveland  - 8 flights, counting the three village hops, toting Jules by myself in 2 days - and a bit overwhelmed to be back. Moving, even though we are now only a few hundred yards from our old place, was an incredible hassle. Once again we have cleaned up all the stuff left by the people who moved out. We have now done this twice. Why do I have this sinking feeling that we may be moving again before moving back to San Francisco?
Our new pad, while a vast improvement over the old, is far from perfect. It is small (2 bedrooms, a kitchen and one all-purpose room), and filled to the gills with the possessions of the people who lived here last. We are living out of boxes that I would love to unpack, but we have run out of places to put our stuff. Partly this is our fault; moving reinforced our conviction that we brought far too much with us, especially considering how little most people in this community have. However we can not shoulder the entire burden. There is a huge SoloFlex machine in the main room, something that is supposed to be removed by a brother of the former resident, I guess, and a huge box by the door that I might need to send somewhere. To write I have set up the computer on a small table we use for the phone, unplugged the CO2 alarm for an electrical outlet, and set up a couple of boxes to sit on.
Apart from the one to get in from the outside, and a 3/4 high makeshift portal to the bathroom, this house has no doors. The bedrooms are separated from the rest of the house by sheets hanging over the doorways. This makes anything and everything uttered, squeaked, dropped, clicked, coughed or chewed in one part of the house audible in any other. The new place is situated in Midtown a few feet off of a main thoroughfare, which is host to a seemingly impossible amount of 4-wheeler traffic at all hours of the day and night. Jules, who has been spoiled by his own room and tons of peace and quiet up to now, is going through a trying adjustment period to the new set-up.
I am sure that Jules is partly unsettled by all of our traipsing around, the new environments and the whirlwind of changes of the past weeks. However I also sense that the terrible twos are arriving in full force. Jules’ latest trick is to bang his head, either on the side of the crib or the floor, to get our attention. It certainly works. I can’t think of a more trying sound than the thunk of your child banging his head against the rails of his crib in the next room, clearly perceptible through a bedsheet door. And then the wailing begins. Do we go to him, to make sure he is OK in this land without doctors, or will that only serve to reward and reinforce the behavior? This could be a long winter. I want to be the supportive, caring husband and father, but at times I am worried that it will all be too much for me, with so few options for distraction and so much of our upcoming life to be spent indoors in these close quarters.
There are other, more general struggles as well. One is that we are so dependent here on the helping hands of others. I just got back from tracking down the old traditional council building to return a 4-wheeler to Tommy. I borrowed his Honda to pick up a box of fresh produce from the post office (as soon as the apple by my side thaws, I will eat it with incredible relish; I haven’t had fresh fruit in weeks) and to bring the last of our frozen food over from the freezer at our old place. Life is so much easier with a 4-wheeler. I don’t see how we could have moved without one. And for us using one requires borrowing one.
For general repairs, learning how to do this or that, the basic getting by kinds of stuff, we need to ask for help. This will only increase as the mercury drops. I feel like an ignoramus every time I try something new. Things that around here are common sense, I don’t know. For example, Peter was showing me how to start and use his 4 wheeler for our move (every 8-year-old here can do this). It was bad enough that I didn’t know how to start the machine. As I reached to wipe the snow off of the seat Peter took his gloves off, wiped the seat and told me that it is easier to dry your hands than your gloves, and that of course you’ll want to make sure to keep your gloves dry once it gets really cold (I have already been really cold). On my first trip to our old place, I had to knock on someone’s door for the secret to getting the machine into reverse (you shift, press the brakes and engage the reverse gear at the same time). One Sunday morning I called a guy named Johnny to ask him some questions about a snow machine we are thinking of buying (it needs a “little work” - another opportunity for me to show off my ignorance and ask people for lots of help). I asked for Johnny, his wife told him who it was and gave him the phone and he answered: “What’s broken?”
We are also dependent on invitations for our personal hygiene, since we don’t have a steam house of our own, and even if we did, we wouldn’t have the wood to light it. So we always plan to be home at steam time and hope for someone to call. Granted I was sick for a few days, but I did go twelve days without a steam. Leisy has a regular invitation, and I have kind of gotten into the swing with a couple of different folks, but it is still a big, stressful question mark every day, and another major dependency.
Another constant battle is time. There simply isn’t enough. Laundry, washing dishes, washing oneself, bathing Jules, taking out the trash, dumping the honeybucket – daily life here takes so much time. There is no down time. Every moment can be spent getting ready for something, or fixing something or working on something. I am afraid that with Leisy’s schedule and demands on herself I will have no time to accomplish anything of my own. Leisy and I will certainly not have the kind of time together we are used to. Our first prospect for a date is February when we will be down in San Francisco for her next meeting.
Last night, in fact, was the first time that it looked like the stars were aligned to allow Leisy and I to have a mellow, relaxing evening together at home. We borrowed a videotape, and were really looking forward to vegging out with a movie. Jules was finally winding down, and I slipped the video into our VCR – no dice. It is on the blink, and I don’t recall seeing an authorized Sony repair shop on this side of the village. So now I don’t even have the toy train videos to fall back on with Jules on the difficult days.

And then there are the ups.
Our new house definitely feels a whole lot warmer than our last one, which is key now that there is snow on the ground and a noticeable bite in the air. It feels that we are in a more social neighborhood, and I like the idea of getting used to living in tighter quarters. But the best part is that we have a washing machine and dryer here. We did our first loads yesterday. While it is no walk in the park, since you need to fetch the water, pour in wash water, start the cycle, drain the wash water, pour in rinse water, continue the cycle, drain the rinse water, etc., it is a thousand times better than having to do all of that at someone else’s house. And now our clothes are clean.
Last night while we were wallowing in self pity because of the VCR situation the phone rang. It was my old steaming buddy Freddie asking me to join him for a steam. I jumped on the chance, having cut my hair and played basketball since the last time I was invited to steam. It turned out that it was just Freddie and me, so we got the chance to talk a lot, and it was the hottest steam I have experienced. Freddie is an interesting guy. He left school after 3rd grade to provide for his family after his older brother died. Despite his lack of education, Freddie has accomplished a great deal. He was the head of the school board here, and also the head of the traditional council. He started the Piniq search and rescue operation, and undoubtedly lots of other exploits I don’t know about. We steamed hot and long, and there is nothing like the walk home on a clear, cool night after a great steam. There were a million stars out in the crisp air, and the steam has a knack for dissipating tension and preventing the sweating over small stuff that I tend to do. Hopefully he will call again tonight.
Last Friday was grand. First thing in the morning I was out with an elder named Tom to check his needlefish traps out on the tundra. We drove his four wheeler out to the end of the air strip, hid it in some tall grass, and walked about a mile to the tip of a lake out on the tundra. It was gorgeous out, crisp but a nice temperature for a hike. We cleared the trap, filled up our knapsacks with needlefish and hiked back.
When I got home Brandon called to see if I wanted to go out seal hunting. I talked Leisy into teaching my class and headed out. We weren’t gone long, and didn’t catch anything, but I spotted a couple of seals, and it was beautiful out on the water. It feels great to be using my waders and other new gear, although you definitely reach the limits of your gear quickly out on the water. For instance, I don’t think I have a warm enough hat or gloves. Hopefully I’ll get more used to the cold, otherwise I could be in trouble. Arriving at home after a day out on the water always feels wonderful.
And then, above all, there are the priceless moments with Jules. His tantrums and difficult periods are always interspersed with the cutest moments imaginable. He is really into cracking jokes now, for instance he’ll say: “One, two, buckle my……stream engine!; One, two, buckle my……Cessna!” and squeal with delight. The other night, after hours of struggle, he finally fell asleep on my chest, something he hasn’t done since he was an infant. Last night when he finally calmed down and started talking himself to sleep (his usual method), he said: “Want Daddy come lay down real nice.”
 In the trying times I have to remember what a privilege it is to be able to have so much time with my family and to witness so much of my son’s development. I need to focus on the moments of delight and wonder, the new experiences, all that I am getting to see and hear and learn and do, and all the blessings that I have.
I think my apple is just about ready.

©2000, Michael Thornton Wyman