To my surprise, there is a school in Naknek. I haven’t seen it, but I’m sure it exists, hidden down some gravel road a few miles from here. I guess the dozen kids that are born every year need somewhere to study. Those kids weren’t even born in Naknek, though. There is no hospital, there wasn’t even a doctor in town until a couple of weeks ago. I had just assumed that if the kids have to be born in a bigger town ten minutes away, that’s where they would go to school. You learn something every day, I guess.
I’ve learned a lot during my time in this backwards little town. Like, for example, that:
1. Some things are backwards. I sleep from 2:00 pm to 7:00 pm. That is my nighttime. We all say good morning at our 7:30 pm breakfast and lament our life choices at our 4:00 am lunch. Many of us skip our 12:30 pm dinner, preferring a bed over a meal. Walking back to the bunkhouse, people will say “I’ll see you in Hell,” and it will be met with a friendly wave, while giving someone the time of day will get us yelled at. Even though we get filthy, people go for days without showering. They’ve decided that the fish must be good for your skin and your hair and that maybe all of the scales will actually make them more hydrodynamic. I have yet to test this.
2. Clocks are terrible things and must be avoided at all costs, especially while trapped in a frigid factory for most of the day. Time doesn’t pay any attention to us and I’ve found that things are easier here if I don’t pay attention to time.
3. If you’re very quiet, you can actually touch an Alaskan grizzly. I’m kidding, Mom and Dad.
4. Cellphones, television, and computers are not essentials. I admit that I was hooked on technology before coming here. There is something nice about taking all of that away. It feels strange to be typing and staring into a screen again, almost like cheating on real life with distractions. I hope none of my roommates come in and see me with a laptop.
5. Food is a decent replacement for sleep. I typically get between four and five hours of sleep a night, so when I have one of my meals I really tie on the feed bag. Sleep=energy. Food=energy. Therefore food=sleep? Something like that. It’s been years since I’ve taken Algebra.
6. Hardship builds comradery. We are all equals here. The professor hangs out with the college dropouts. The guy who chose this over a homeless shelter eats lunch with the daughter of a resort owner. The sixty-year-olds pal around with the millennials. The guy who got here sporting a confederate flag bandana was put in a room with an African American guy and now they play twenty questions while gutting fish. People forget about racism and sexism and all the other –isms here because life is hard enough without them. It’s because we are all working, eating, and suffering together. Almost everyone is sick and miserable and incredibly friendly and cracking jokes and laughing at every opportunity. If these aren’t souls in need of relief, I don’t know what are.
7. Sometimes salmon gets in your mouth when you don’t want it to. Or in your eye. Or up your nose. Or caked to your hair. These are facts of life that must be dealt with here. Rolling with the punches is key. “Thick skin, short memory” is the motto and a good way to live life.
Once again, I have the opportunity to express my gratitude. Thank you to those who continue to read these posts. I do this more for my sanity than for your entertainment, but it’s very pleasing to see a steady number of readers. Thank you to my friends, old and new, for your help in getting me through this. Thank you to those who made this trip possible by hiring me or gifting supplies. Thank you to my family for your incredible and consistent love and support.
I often say that the best way to get to know yourself is to push your limits. I did that in a more intense way than I ever have before, so my final thank you goes to this experience for teaching me so much, like the fact that my limit lies somewhere a few miles south of Naknek, Alaska.
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