August 21, 2007: First stop, Fairbanks

I booked myself on an 8:10 flight out of Los Angeles this morning (Alaska Airlines flight 161 bound for Fairbanks, Alaska). The only thing I took with me was my computer with wireless Internet card, digital recorder, cell phone, digital camera, some books and maps and a small shaving kit in case I got stuck in Anchorage, the one stop I have to make. I already shipped my clothes and other paraphernalia up there and if everything goes according to plan, it will be waiting with the 2007 Mitsubishi Outlander I've leased for the next year.

The terminal at LAX was surprisingly empty this morning, which made the whole security and boarding process easier. That didn't stop the TSA people from randomly picking me out of the crowd and subjecting me to intense scrutiny. Luckily, I had gotten to the airport with plenty of time to spare, so I was able to relax comfortably in the gate area.

As the time for the flight approached, I noticed that one a few of the people traveling up north were native Alaskans. The rest of the crowd appeared to be outdoorsmen and business people. Quite a motley crew, I'd say.

As luck would have it, I found myself sitting next to an elderly Eskimo woman, probably somewhere around eighty or so. After we were up in the air for a while, I introduced myself and told her what my trip was all about. She told me her name was Buniq, which is Inuit for "sweet daughter" and she was at one time a woman of unimaginable beauty. Her first husband, Qigiq (Inuit for "white hawk that flies in the sky") was a hunter and fisherman who went missing during a severe storm only a year after they married, never to return. She waited twelve years hoping he would come back to her, but eventually her family convinced her to give up and wed again.

She met her second husband in 1959 and after a month of courting, they got married and stayed together for forty years. He died in 1990. I asked her to tell me about her second husband.

"His name was Tikaani, which in the Inuit language means 'wolf.' Unlike in English, the word wolf has no stigma attached. In fact, the wolf is considered to be a noble animal, both strong and courageous, even though they can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

Buniq watched my reactions to the last thing she said, taking delight in the look of shock followed by what most assuredly was a wry smile. We both let out a soft chuckle.

"Tikaani and I were very happy together. He was a great partner and let me have equal say in the family decisions. My husband was a woodworker. He used to make all kinds of furniture and sold it in Fairbanks to one of the stores. Both of us used to carve small totems and other souvenirs to sell to the tourists."

I encouraged her to continue.

"Besides work, we raised four three boys and one beautiful girl. In fact, I was just down in Los Angeles, visiting my youngest son, Ublureak."

I asked her what that meant in Inuit.

"Oh, you'll like this one. It means 'star'. It's funny because he moved to Hollywood to become an actor, but he never became a 'star' by studio standards, you know?"

I acknowledged the irony.

"As it turns out, he's been working as a paralegal, but he still gets small acting jobs from time to time. The rest of my kids are more successful. The oldest boy is a lawyer in Anchorage, a public defender of our people. The middle boy works on an Inuit interests magazine as a writer and editor."

I asked about the girl.

"My baby, my Noahtakmiut?"

I asked her what that word meant.

"Noahtakmiut means 'little river'. I named her that because right from birth, she seem to want to wriggle out of my hands like a small stream. These days, she's a stay at home mother, but before the second baby was born, she was detective in Anchorage. She lives in Girdwood, a pretty little town near there. Her husband's a commercial fisherman a good part of the year. I'm going to visit with her for a couple of weeks before heading back home, you know, to help out. That's what we mothers do."

I told her I was staying at the Westmark Fairbanks Hotel before shoving off tomorrow.

"That's a beautiful hotel," she assured me. "Don't forget to go to the University of Alaska when you're in Fairbanks. The campus is quite lovely, too."

I was enjoying my conversation with Buriq so much, I was a little surprised when we landed in Anchorage. We said our good-byes before exiting the plane and as I entered the terminal at Anchorage, I watched as her daughter and grandchildren greeted her with a warm hug. They rushed off to baggage claim, busily chattering amongst themselves.

Buriq said she was eighty-two, but the Alaskan climate or her strong genes were really kind to her, because her skin was barely wrinkled and she had the disposition of someone so much younger and more robust with a wonderful sense of humor. Perhaps that's the secret to long life . . . keep laughing, no matter what the Fates hand you. Something to think about.

My connecting flight to Fairbanks left on time and soon we were winging our way to the starting point of my journey. I hope I get lucky to meet such wonderful people all along the highways and byways of America. I'm feeling pretty excited about getting on the road!

From Alaska with love,

Steve Bolin

Three Thousand Miles and Back

Hello! My name is Steve Bolin and welcome to my blog. There are a near infinite number of stories across these great United States, many of which will never see the light of day. They're ordinary tales lived by ordinary people, from truckers to waitresses to librarians to retirees. I want to tell their stories.

There have been many books and television shows that have taken on this challenging assignment . . . John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley, for example, is a classic book in this vein and to some degree, the television show Made In America does a fair amount of the same thing.

Charles Kerault, of course, is the king of telling America's stories for so many years on television and in books, most notably On The Road. I certainly am no Charles Kerault, but I hope to do a serviceable job here reporting on the places, people and events I visit, meet and experience (respectively) as I travel from Alaska to Rhode Island, to Florida and then to southern California.

The difference is I'm not going anywhere. This entire trip will be fictional, at least as far as the specifics are concerned. The names will be made up, many of the towns will be invented, the stories will be spun from my imagination . . . all of it in the name of entertainment. Oh sure, the roads I traverse will be real enough, but I strongly recommend you don't take anything seriously in this blog beyond that.

Why am I doing this? Well, it's simple, really . . . I've always loved such books and television shows I've mentioned, but I don't have the luxury of making the trip I've outlined. If I did, believe me, I'd leave on the first plane to Fairbanks. Unfortunately, I'm a writer and am not blessed with Michael Crichton money. I have a day job to attend to, so instead of going to all these places, I'm going to imagine them for you right here in this blog.

Again, this is all imaginary stuff. If one of my stories sound like you or your town, it is purely coincidence. In case you feel like writing me, though, I invite you to comment on this blog and don't forget to let me know where you hail from. It would be awfully nice to make some friends on this flight of fancy. Hope you'll join me!

Steve