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Six months after being born, my parents set out on an adventure to be “frontier folk.” Our destination was a 20 acre plot 50 miles west of Ketchikan. If you look on a map, you will see that even today, there is not much there. Mom likes to remind me that my first crib was a fish box they lined in foam. We had no running water or electricity. As you might imagine, with a newborn, that scenario presented some challenges. Soon, the niceties of civilization and threats of a winter freeze preventing float plane access to the bay pulled Mom and Dad back to the “big city” of Ketchikan — population at the time of about 6,900.
I share this walk down memory lane because on our recent family vacation, we cruised the Alaskan waters for seven days on a smaller ship that could explore Alaska’s uncommon adventures. It was a return home to my very young years and an opportunity for my parents to reminisce. With limited internet and incredible outdoor scenery to give my attention to, it was a successful escape from my crowded, noisier life in Southern California. The smells of seaweed, moss and fish filled my nostrils and unleashed my nostalgia.
I managed to add a couple new city halls to my “visited” list (Petersburg and Sitka), but mostly just basked in the most incredible Alaska weather — at least there is one upside to climate change. Several folks have requested pictures, so here is a link to some of the best shots from the trip.
The distance from work and adventures provided a much-needed escape, and gave me a vantage point to reflect on all that we do in local governments to deliver for those who do not want to live on the frontier. Flushing toilets, trash pickup and electricity don’t just “happen” — there are people making those things work every day. While I was thrilled with my visit to the frontier, I was also thrilled to return to the infrastructure of my community, just as my parents were when I was a spud.
Utilities Rock,
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