In Kodiak, the calendar’s proclamation of the first day of spring often fell out of sync with nature’s own timetable. For me, spring announced itself not through the chirping of birds or the blooming of early flowers, but through the soft, persistent sound of running water. Walking home from school along Lower Mill Bay Road, as I turned and meandered down Hemlock Street into Aleutian Homes, the ice-bound silence of winter began to break. Beneath the snow and ice, encrusted with sticks, rocks, and the odd candy wrapper, a subtle symphony of trickling water played—the heralds of warmer days...
I was raised on the island
Deep rivers, tall trees
Where mountains hold secrets
And salt rides the breeze
Well, it's a rugged place
Lush green and hard stone
But it's the people I knew
Who made it my home
I'm a Kodiak kid
No matter how far I roam
The house on North Blvd
Will always be home
I see Mrs. Mosley
With hot cocoa so warm
Pulling me inside
From the cold of the storm
George in his truck
Keeping dust from the road
And Mr. Springfield
Sharing his stories of gold
Mr. Ardinger put that first guitar in my hand
The Blair's house full of love would always expand
My father worked the post office directing the mail
Mother...
For my grandfather, August Heitman, whose name is inscribed on one of the Russian bells at the Kodiak Russian Orthodox Church.
I hear Russian bells tonight
So faint and yet so clear
Though you are now so far away
The bells have brought you near
Back to this little seaside town
And boats 'neath harbor lights
Your memory can still be found
Even on the darkest nights
A walk along the St. Paul docks
My heart holds still again
So great a man can't be forgot
So great a love won't end
And if I live one hundred years
And if my heart still tells
I shall always be remembering you
When I hear Russian...
When you return,
your hair will be longer
and your Alutiiq skin darkened
from the sun’s reflection
shining off the Pacific Ocean.
“Ukalah!” I will hear you shout
as the boat pulls into the unloading dock.
You’ll be standing on the deck of the Gallant Girl
in worn out deck loafers and weathered jeans.
I can imagine you now, squinting,
searching the horizon.
I think you must wonder if it is worth it all,
though I know you could never quit it,
this way of life, your raison d’être.
It is in your blood, like it was
in your father’s before you.
And you court these Northwest waters
like she is your secret mistress,
always leaving me...
I was born and raised in Kodiak. For those who aren’t familiar, it is an island in the gulf of Alaska, 100 miles long by 10 miles to 60 miles wide. A large percentage of the island is wilderness and includes 7 major rivers. Another 100 smaller streams cross deep valleys or fall from mountains that reach up to 5,000 feet in elevation. It is the habitat for 6 salmon species and over 250 species of birds. Other native animals include the famous Kodiak brown bear, red foxes, river otters and small brown bats.
Anchorage, the nearest city, is about...
