I recently went back to Alaska—the first time in over fifty years. I returned as part of my Hardship Alaska book tour. The book chronicles my life as a Vietnam War-era conscientious objector as I set off on two years of exile, service, soul-searching, and self-discovery in Alaska’s rugged, unforgettable beauty. The trip north was also a long overdue homecoming to the place where my worldview began to take shape as I experienced the isolation of the outsider and what it means to be part of a community—the most formative period of my life.
The first couple of days, I had the opportunity to explore where I lived when I first arrived in Anchorage on Halloween night, 1970, excited to learn that my first apartment was still there. I also learned that the church basement closet where I lived for much of my two years of alternative service was still there, too.
“On Novembre 2, 1970, I moved into a one-bedroom furnished apartment… on M Street edging a bluff overlooking Cook Inlet.” —Hardship Alaska, Sunrise, Sunset“Looking out from my porch I could glimpse the reclining Sleeping Lady, Mt. Susitna, which resembled a pink-hued silhouette of a giant reclining woman in afternoon sunlight.” —Hardship Alaska, Sunrise Sunset“I wrote a poem in college, I think it came from a dream, of men selling salmon, frozen, block-cut and wrapped in brown paper, which I bought. They stood at the end of a road beneath a bluff, a boat ramp of sorts, against a bleak horizon of a cold bay. Large chunks of ice sat still in the water with no place to go. Across the inlet slept a giant that resemble a mountain.” —Hardship Alaska, ForetellingsAfter suffering a setback with my alternative service job at Alaska Children’s Services, and forced to give up my apartment in downtown Anchorage, I found refuge at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church.Now working with the church, I served as its music director and senior youth group advisor, among several other assignments.My new living quarters included a storage closet—my bedroom—under the stairway leading from the sanctuary to the basement.“As a kid I would paint watercolors of mountains I had never seen. I spent hours brushing gray wash backgrounds suitable for both sky and rocky terrain. Clouds sweeping up from the base of the range, pushed aloft by winds cutting across the valley and coming to rest, as if asleep, win the tops of mountains.” —Hardship Alaska, Foretellings
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