Last week a friend who doesn't live in Juneau sent me screenshots of an online rant and said, “I think our neighbors complained about us on Reddit!!!” The Reddit post began, “Hello neighbor from the [redacted] block, Launching mortars last night was a really inconsiderate move.”   Uh oh. It was my friend’s block, and while my friend had not been home, her family had apparently launched New Year’s Eve fireworks.   The post incited a predictable onslaught of anonymous vitriol. Outrage and allegations built. At some point the original poster added: “The thing that gets me the most is th ..read more

I lived in a co-op for my last two years of college. I left the dorm and my sweet roommates for various reasons including a generalized anti-establishment streak, but it was mostly about food. I couldn't deal with the mass-market feel of the dining hall, I wanted to make toast in the middle of the night, and I needed to bake cookies for therapy.   The co-op was a glutton's paradise. We snacked on chocolate chips from a 25-pound box. Eight loaves of fresh bread came out of the oven every night. I developed an addiction to hot chili sesame oil, which we ordered by the case, and which I smo ..read more

Today I participated in a forum called Faith and Blue, an event spearheaded by the Juneau Police Department in association with a national weekend of activities organized by law enforcement and religious communities. The flyer notes, "National Faith & Blue weekend is a collaborative effort to build bridges and break biases." Since we don't have a resident rabbi, I got to play one on TV. The program will be edited and posted to Facebook. I'll share a link when it's available.  I was struck by the genuine caring and concern of everyone who participated, how much our cultural, religious ..read more

Among the things I found after John died were 24 cans of Rainier beer in an outside pocket of his hockey bag. Yes, it was a massive bag – a goalie bag, though John didn’t play goal.  I got rid of most of his stuff pretty efficiently when he died, some of it with unabashed glee. The boxes of old magazines he carted through each move, fraying 1986 copies of Mother Jones and Utne Reader he was always going to get to. I brought 17 boxes to paper recycling. I doled skis and jackets to friends and family. I gave away his skates. But something stopped me from giving away the hockey bag, and I’m ..read more

Last night I talked to a friend who lamented the unsolicited advice others feel entitled to offer. Her family is going through hard times, and there are difficult decisions to be made. But she did not ask for advice.    I told her I’ve learned there’s one consequence of trauma people don’t warn you about: trauma serves as an invitation to others to peer into your life and advise. Most of it is well-meaning. But it quietly robs you of self-efficacy. It can trigger a spiral of dependence and self-doubt.    Over the last decade, my husband died, my best friend died, and I went ..read more

Last year my Alaska driver’s license expired while I was living in Boston. After a week living on the edge, knowing I would rue this day but seeing little lawful alternative, I trudged into the Registry of Motor Vehicles, where an hour’s wait, a quick eye test and $30 bought me a Massachusetts license. Fast forward a year and I’m back in Alaska, buying a Subaru from Bellingham to replace the rusted-out one I sold on the way out. I need my Alaska driver’s license to avoid Washington sales tax, and to regain my bonafides. I google: I need a passport, social security number, proof of residence, k ..read more

I solved a Rubik’s cube last night. I started learning on the flight from Boston to Seattle as we were moving back to Juneau after three years. I like how planes limit my options and force me to slow down and focus. Without the Alaska Airlines crossword or meals (covid danger), we were even bored-er than usual, so I finally assented to Alder’s offer to teach me to cube.   I remember when the Rubik’s cube was all the rage in middle school. I made a few half-hearted attempts and never solved a single face. The Rubik’s cube always carried with it a vague whiff of failure. Then in Decem ..read more

Despite growing up in the Boston area, I feel like a kid who’s been blindfolded and spun around trying to pin the tail on the donkey when I drive around Boston. When we moved here from Alaska three years ago, my then 9-year-old son Alder and I experienced acute disorientation. Our sense of dislocation was spiritual and social, but also profoundly geographic. In Juneau, the roads end in every direction. The mountains and ocean that bound Juneau tell you where you are, and which way is north. Here in the northeast amidst the tangle of asphalt and buildings we felt lost, severed from nature ..read more

Parenting an 18-year-old right now is like being blindfolded in a leaky lifeboat in confused seas, one rogue wave after another slamming us. What guidance can I offer on the cusp of her graduation from high school? What comfort?  She wants to help, wants to be part of mending this broken world. What can she do that doesn’t feel like an empty gesture, virtue signaling, or preaching to the choir of her “woke” friends? Her questions are mine, only more urgent. She is on the cusp of fledging (– but where? how? I am moving, dismantling the nest. Her summer job at overnight camp is gone, and w ..read more

On Monday I participated in New York City’s annual count of unsheltered homeless individuals. Our team of five, including two West Point students who’d been bused down to volunteer, canvassed some 16 blocks between midnight and 4 a.m., asking everyone we encountered whether they had a place to sleep that night, and if they would like help. A few people laughed – we told people we were supposed to ask everyone, but the implication that we thought they might be homeless was comical to the briefcase-toting executives heading home, and to the jovial beer-drinking group of Eastern European-sounding ..read more