Dearest Rachel –
Sometimes, the fact that I record these things off the cuff in real time makes it hard to say anything particularly important or appropriately meaningful. I have some idea of what to say, but it never feels like enough; especially given the current situation.
But under the circumstances, I’m operating under the assumption that, since we had his permission and blessing to go on this trip, it would be inappropriate for us to not enjoy our time here.
The weather was gorgeous in Sitka; bright, clear and sunny, in contrast with almost every other port other than Seward. Given that the place is actually part of an subarctic rainforest, it’s almost as if God Himself was agreeing with Dad by giving us some unusually good weather to appreciate: “Go out there, wander about and have fun!”
We had considered trying to catch an excursion time earlier than we were registered for (there was one scheduled for 10:55 as opposed to 12:55, for instance), but once we got outside the pier area at around ten, we were informed that the shuttles would take a good twelve minutes to drive into the downtown area. It just wouldn’t be practical to try to walk, and there wasn’t that much around the pier itself apart from the somewhat generic souvenir shops (and we determined that we would probably have a chance to browse them later on – which we did, and they were every bit as generic as we could have expected).
So we concluded that the tour could wait until the designated time, and caught the shuttle into town. And while the city itself isn’t particularly remarkable in and of itself, we made a point of wandering around through the center of town.
Meanwhile, the world goes on around us; not only do we have the awareness of Dad’s passing to set aside while we make our way about town, my phone was ringing for other reasons as well. Our broker was trying to reach me regarding a certain IPO coming out during the day; and we negotiated to buy some 160 shares or so. Now, you may ask why I’m telling you about financial dealings, especially with this backdrop behind us. Well, during the past month or two, as he’s been dealing with his own recovery and decline, Dad had been checking regularly on his portfolio; even going so far as to ask me when I would show up at the rehab center about the Dow before things like the Cubs. When I asked him why – it didn’t strike me as something he’d need to concern himself with for very long, and he agreed – he reminded me that he wants to make sure that there was still enough to sustain Mom for the rest of her days. Plus, he added, it was fun to watch it grow; in terms of wins and losses, it had a better record than the Cubs – and I couldn’t argue with that. There’s more about this topic I could go into, but it would probably merit its own separate letter, so I’ll save it until then.
Once the trade was sorted out, we made our way through the loop of streets that make up downtown Sitka, as well as through a park across from the marina. Having covered that couple of miles, and gotten ourselves a little souvenir hunting done while we were making the rounds, we were ready (with time to spare) to hop the shuttle back to the terminal.
As I said, the terminal shops, while clean and modern in appearance, were literally nothing to write home about – except that we found a display of the children’s books that Mom and Dad had gotten Daniel, either on the cruise they took us or a previous one before they brought us along. The timing of seeing these washed a wave of nostalgia over the both of us; I remember reading those pages to him as a little boy, and I’m sure you do too. Combine that thought with the current situation, and you might be able to grasp how deeply the sight cut into us.
But the day, as I said, was bright and sunny, as if God was telling us not to be too sad. As if to emphasize that, He sent us a sight that is apparently quite common for the locals to observe, but in our experience is a rare treat, indeed.
In any event, we were somewhat burdened with purchases, and we could stand a quick recharge. So, with the half hour we had before we were scheduled to meet our tour group, we returned to the room to drop off of some stuff – including, in my case, a layer of clothing (yes, it was that warm) – before heading out.
The excursion was billed as a theatrical production, and I suppose I was expecting some sort of production of native ceremonies or the like. As it happened, it was more of a story of Sitka’s (recorded) history, from its settlement by Russian fur traders, to the conflict between the Russians and the natives, the sale of it (and the entire Alaskan territory) to the United States, and the civil rights movement in the area, which took a very different arc than that of the American South. It was interesting in its own way, but somewhat less than I had been expecting.
The young man acting as the narrator worked the room beforehand as we got settled in our seats by asking about where everyone was from (for his part, he mentioned that he was a seasonal worker, and called Cleveland home). I mentioned being from the Chicago area, and discovered that several fellow passengers were from the Des Plaines neighborhood. One had even attended West School, which later became the Willows, which our flagship campus uses as an overflow parking lot these days.
As personable as he was, his status as a seasonal worker left me a little cold to the production, to be honest. The thing was, he let on that most of the dance troupe were from elsewhere as well; this sort of took some of the local, organic nature out of it. As well as it might have been done, that fact gave it something of an artificial sheen to it, that contrasted with our experience walking around, and seeing the eagles and the like beforehand.
Daniel had enough at this point, too; while we were scheduled to watch a short movie about the wilds of the area, he just wasn’t interested. And while he didn’t say much about it, I suppose the day had its emotional toll that he was still trying to parse; really, I think it’s going to be a little surreal until we get back home, no matter what. It’s kind of ironic that the folks got their first word of his birth while they were cruising with their cousins, and now, he and I are getting word of Dad’s Homegoing while we’re on a cruise ourselves. The moment even rhymes insofar as both were expected to – supposed to? – happen later than all this, but some things in life just can’t wait for everyone to be at home and be a part of, I guess.
We have one more stop coming up before we make our way to Vancouver and home, honey, and I dare say we could use the strength to continue to enjoy our time as it would seem that Dad and God intend us to. So with that being said, I’d like to ask that, as usual, you keep your eye on us, and wish us well. We’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 