Thanksgiving Day

Today was spent in the company of 9 families. 

All from different backgrounds. 

Some new to Alaska (us).

Some who have lived in Alaska for many years.

Some are military. 

Some are retired military. 

One is a full-time seminary teacher.

One is even FBI. 

One is a chiropractor. 

And many are parents.

All are wonderful. 

All are thankful, and very giving. 

Sitting around the living room, 

I listened to two grown men 

try to persuade me to try cross-country skiing. 

One gave me a book about the real Wolf-man,

Frank Glaser, to help me overcome my fear. 

If it works, I may give this a try:

Skiing on the Eagle River at night. 

Tom just goes down to the river from his house, 

and skis with his wife after ten when the kids are asleep. 

Listening to these two men, 

one, Peter, a Retired Colonel from the Army, 

and Tom, a big-game hunter, and prior Navigator in the Navy

tell me about how sensory it can be. 

Listening to the R. Colonel explain the snow as 

"glittering flakes falling from the misty clouds," 

I giggled internally as I imagined him using the word

"magical." 

Then he DID say it, 

"It is just magical."

When I heard it, I didn't laugh like I thought I would.

It actually awed me into a reverence.

Looking back at all that I have seen and done 

in my short 9 months here in the Last Frontier 

has opened up my eyes to a new understanding of 

Thanksgiving. 

Living in a location where people and animals 

coexist with a safe fear of one another, 

where men and women join together

to supply water and food when electricity goes out,

where you can hear wolves across the valley 

and mushrooms form toadstool circles,

I have learned  

it really is pretty magical 

*picture taken with Mark's iphone on a local flight around Alaska