Another trip back to Sitka. This time for a friends memorial at the Whalefest celebration. Jan made both boat trips out on the water to watch Humpback whales and sea Otters lazing around on the surface of a calm rainy sea. We ate fabulous dinners with old friends and saw lots more just walking around town. We stayed in a lovely apartment downtown right across the street from the Whalefest gathering. Everything is so familiar in my old home town.
The first day there I gave some remarks at a memorial for Craig George who died in a river rafting accident this past summer. I had practiced the remarks for almost a week, but when time came to give them on stage infront of almost a thousand people I felt almost overwhelmed by emotion. It caught me by surprise and it was not a good feeling. I reallly hate to lose control of my emotions in those circumstances. I feel that my job in those situations is to give comfort to the grieving family and the community of friends and to break down in tears is just to draw attention to myself and my own grief, which sets the whole wrong tone for the event. But… it basically went fine, I wes just a little dissapointed.
But why the tears? Certainly I was sad about the death of our friend Craig who truly was a one of a kind person: a prominent scientists, a good musician, a funny gental man. But too there was something about being in this placre that most of my life I have thought of as home. A town full of friends where I have also lost so many friends. Alaska, it can be a dangerous place, and given enough time you will inevitably lose good people: Nels, Terrence, Molly, Bill, Dave many others. I suppose the truth of it is also that I’m growing fond of my new life in California, with Jan and Arthur, Finn and Emily and the smattering of new friends I’m starting to make. But why would this make me sad? Why the tears?
Up on the stage I felt haunted by my missing friends, and I felt that perhaps I was slipping through the cracks in my life. Not really at home here in Alaska nor fully belonging to California. For the truth is I am becoming more at home in California and that’s a good thing but when I’m back here I’m flooded with complex feeliing, as if I’m caught observing my life.
Last night I had a dream that I was wrapped in a sheet of plastic explosives. I was warm and cosy and very happy to be wrapped up. There was no blood or explosions no death or drama just curled and comfy in me blanket of high explosives .
I told a friend about the dream and she thought about it for a moment and said… “Well, that’s life. Isn’t it?”
I suppose so.
Today Jan and I head to Ketchikan to meet with Ray Troll and Finn will be meeting us there as well. More on this laater.
Here is an old poem of mine.
