This last week my girl, Sondra, came down from Alaska to hang out. It was so awesome to have some quality time with her. Sondra and I grew up together in Valdez, Alaska and most of my memories of her center around the wild, nature spirit that she is. Still, even as I think we are getting older, 17 years later, I see that indomitable wildness that borders on savage, which she somehow contains long enough to be seated in a restaurant for a classy meal, before bursting back out into the trees again with a howl.
Sondra has always sort of made me think of a blond she-bear. Born of earth and primal forests, and nurtured on the snowy slopes of mountains perfect for boarding – she is not content to sit still unless it’s time to hibernate. She’s playful, protective, exuberant and optimistic. And loyal. Deeply loving and loyal.
So it is, that every time she decides to emerge from the wilderness long enough to play in the city – I feel immensely blessed. I always feel kind of lucky to be out and about with her, albeit a bit more mindful of the potential that she steps out in front of moving cars or mishandles the trappings of city dwelling. But you can’t really blame her; she spends most of her life in the forest or wilds of the north. This is not her favorite place to be – she only visits because she loves me. And I adore her for the concession she makes to stay in my world just a little while and catch up.
We were joined by Carrie on Friday night and decided to make an evening of hitting up some of my favorite places around town in succession. Martini’s. Sushi. Desserts.
Carrie is another one of my high school friends from Alaska, but she lives in Seattle now with her husband who also graduated with us. Carrie has, in all my memories of her, been the boisterous social butterfly that glues many of us together via her hard work not to let any one of us slip through a radio-silence crack.
That being said, even though she is a modern business woman, running a foreign language school in Seattle and operating a profitable MaryKay outfit – her roots as an Alaskan wild woman surface almost immediately when she’s back with her people from up north.
My memories of Carrie are of an otter-like playfulness and social networking. Trying to entertain and include, nurture and socialize. I remember thinking of her as being an escape artist, somehow managing to explore the world through the exchange student program to Japan. I was totally envious of her ability to jump in and out of two opposing elements, city and nature, equally comfortable in either realm, at home in both places without the disorientation of skipping back and forth. She seemed so fearless and willing to just jump, swim and make any environment, however unfamiliar – her home. Then once she’s mastered her new space, she always reaches out to invite you in.
She has been a trail paver, road blazer and my memories of her when we were kids always circle back to her laughing. Somehow, most of my memories are of her giggling, chuckling, or all out laughing or setting something on fire. I also think she has her work cut out for her, in the constant herding of a bunch of wild folks – trying to keep us from vanishing utterly into the thick of wilderness and also somehow trying to keep us from being sucked into the jungles of society. She is a creature of balance and is good at making sure none of us stray too far from safety in either direction. Not an easy trick.
Friday night I called Jordy and we all set out to hit the town for goodies. I imagined, I suppose, that if I hadn’t managed to horrify Jordy in the last three years I’ve known him – then certainly, the three of us at once, could somehow find a way to astonish the poor guy.
As it happens, he’s pretty damn unflinching.
We told stories the better part of the night of our misdeeds as teenagers. Renditions of Carrie ending statements with, “Oh, that party! That was awesome.” And Sondra piping in with, “I slept with that guy.” And me saying, “I don’t know how I got away with that.”
Jordy weathered it well, shaking his head from time to time, as we three girls giggled and reminisced and burst into shocked laughter as we remembered escapades that left us startled that we weren’t somehow maimed or worse in our days of growing up in a place where there are hundreds of natural ways to die, even before you factor in the general stupidity of teenagers.
Also during this time, I realized – I have been away from home too long. Being with my girls from home brings back the sharp tangy scent of ice, the lush Berber carpet texture of mossy hillsides and the diamond clarity of the dozens of waterfalls around y home town.
As we talked I felt like I was back up Mineral Creek racing along the roadside on a Quad or jumping off the dock, or swimming through glacial water in nothing but my birthday suit.
“Oh my god. That was the summer you drove the Volkswagen bug across the school lawn. Twice….”
“No. That party on the pass, when the truck was rocking and Sondra’s head popped up…”
“No that was the time the van got carjacked….”
I remember also, that the quirks I get a lot of shit for here in Portland such as; not letting men pay for my food on the first few dates, talking back to authority, not taking crap from people, bucking convention, needing to forge my own way….
These are traits also of my girlfriends from my youth. We are not dissimilar and I couldn’t contain my grin when I realized – I am not weird, I’m simply out of my element here in Portland. That I am not unusual in Alaska – but I stick out here in Stumptown by insisting on the kind of independence I flourished on back home.
This sudden understanding, that my ways are not that ridiculous – made me resolve that I will no longer stress it when guys think I’m a feminist freak for picking up the check, or when people comment that I’m just a trouble maker for not being conventional.
Because I might not be conventional HERE – then again, what I am works perfectly for where I belong. With my Alaskans. In the woods. Free.
As we were leaving Pix, Sondra and Carrie made it out ahead of Jordy and I. I was thinking he’d been such a great sport about all the reminiscing and hooting.
Jordy shrugged, “It seems there are a lot of interesting stories about you growing up in Alaska that I haven’t heard yet.”
I grinned, “Yeah, remind me one day to tell you about the time I set my snatch on fire during a bonfire walk.”
I turned in time to see our waiter, who was walking toward us pause and frown then mutter a flustered, “Have a good night.”
As we walked out the door to join the girls I thought, “Okay. Maybe I’m never really going to be a good candidate for polite society.”
Sondra, Carrie and I stayed up till nearly 5 am laughing and catching up. Telling stories and bemoaning our youth. It was a fantastic visit and I am forever grateful that they made it down to see me.
I always feel lucky to have my friends from school still. The bubble of time that happened in 92-96 in Valdez, Alaska resulted in some of the tightest, most unusual relationships that I’ve ever encountered. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel blessed to be a part of that odd conglomerate of folks that still somehow manage to glue together, all these years later.
They are my home.
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