I’m not one for schmaltz. 

Who Am I Kidding. 

I am one for Schmaltz. You know the scene in The Sound of the Music (the lovely film) when Julie Andrew’s Maria is dancing with the Captain and her arm is above her head, she is looking into his eyes, and she is in love and simultaneously scared out of her socks? 

I’ve been trying to capture my feelings for Alaska, but that look may sum it all up: Wonder, Shock, Love, Terror. 

The terror is a slight exaggeration. I’m simply sad to leave, and a bit scared at the prospect that happiness, like a “whirling dervish” will not darken my door when the mountains fade from my gaze. 

It’s time for another excursion, says Lady Life, just before she checks my ticket. 

“Guatemala?” She says. And I say “What the heck, ya know?” 

She looks back at me and says “Oh, I know.” 

If Lady Life were played by Julie Andrews, I’m certain I’d be less terrified of her. 

She’d offer me spoonfuls of sugar whilst a robin coos along to the melody. But I know Lady Life from the pictures, the stories, and my own experience, and sometimes she is more of an Ursula bordering on Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted (get the pun?).

But oh, oh, oh, if I have gleaned any humanistic takeaways from my summer in tourism, I’d have to say that we are all looking for a vacation out of this life and not an actual experience. Tourists just bring out the worst of all of our desires in one dock, at one time, with one camera snapping a picture of your face without asking thank you Princess Cruise Lines. 

Humans just want to get off of a glorious boat and arrive to our destination, see someone in a green jacket to tell us where to go, who to meet and to give us the best deal on the trip. We want that every single day. We just want to be pointed in a direction and assured how wonderful it will be and how worth it and which seat has the best view. We don’t want to be bothered by any street drunks (take your pick here in Ketchikan), we don’t want to get lost, help the homeless, feed the hungry or sustain any injuries. Hell, we even get cagey about being bored. 

I’ve been spinning my wheels looking for a sign with a code on it to take me to my perfect shore excursion. I’ve been looking for that every day I’ve gotten out of bed. And thankfully I’ve almost always been getting out of a bed. And do you know what? I’ve missed the experience, looking for the sign that points me in the right direction. I didn’t realize that ain’t nobody gonna be holding no sign for me. Not unless I paid him some money and his name is George from the Pension Stella (but I digress). 

BUT LADY LIFE- what if the man of my dreams ISN’T in Guatemala, what if my proverbial and actual eggs DO dry up, what if I miss it: whatever it is that I am so afraid to miss? Or what if I never come back here?! What if these people who’ve come to comprise my Alaska family float away in separate directions on halibut hunts and I’m on a ferry bobbing away to a new place with nothing anchoring me. 

I don’t know, Life, what if everything goes south when I Go South. 

I want to bottle it up, all the elements of my daily life here that make it what it is: the condensation thick on my window every morning (on the inside), the slow grocery store lines, the excitement I get when I walk into Walmart, the tireless views of the mountains that never grow tiresome, the 5-minute walk-commute to work, the overpriced groceries, the overpriced apartment, the free fishing trips if you “know a guy” and the mediocre coffee you can buy from all of a handful of places in town. At home, most of my friends have college degrees. Here, it’s more unusual if they do. The question, always, “Do you live here year-round?” 

I am going to miss it. It might not sound spectacular, perhaps that’s my aversion to painting with peppy colors, but this place is a true gem of an experience. Ketchikan has it’s own foibles, annoyances and even dangers, but it’s an island. It’s meant to be bizarrely, remarkably itself. 

Here’s to you, liquid sunshine, salmon capital, First City of Alaska. Cheers. 

I have four days left and I plan to be present for all 4. And maybe a little sad.