Lost...or Free?

You lucky duck; you found my surviving posts! When I started this thing back up, I deleted the posts that weren't true to who I've become. I saved a few because it's nice to see that I've made some progress with my writing. These are here solely for nostalgic reasons, so go ahead and enjoy!

-Jenna

There comes a time in every child's life when she finds herself suddenly alone.

Dum dee dum... walking through Wal-Mart... looking at the toys...

HOLY COW! WHERE'S MOM!?!?!

Aaaaaah! What next? Panic. General mayhem. Tears.

...or, freedom?
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Jenna-- age 4. California Water Park

What a hot, hazy day on our vacation. Mom adjusted my pink swimsuit in the bathroom while Dad watched the boys and my sister. My older brother wanted to go down the huge slide that went underground for a portion, but I wanted to play under the giant mushroom that poured water. Mom and Dad spread a blanket on the grass between the two attractions. Dad went with my brother, Mom stayed with my baby sister and me.

I ran around, exploring excitedly. A river! A herd of metal circus animals! A Swiss Family Robinson Slide! I excitedly joined the line for the last one, imagining myself shipwrecked and playing in the wild water.

This slide is the best! I went on it over and over, occasionally going back to check on Mom with baby sister. I ran back to my Swiss Family Robinson slide for one more go while Mom stood up and began to look around for Dad.

Down the slide! Splash! I ran back to the blanket, soaking wet and ready to go.

Where is she? The blanket was gone, baby was gone, our backpacks were gone.

They left me?!

I set out to find them, weaving around people's legs and avoiding their eyes. After years of walking (so it seemed), a large lady leaned down and asked,

"Sweetie, are you lost?"

I nodded, feeling tears bud up in my eyes. She took my hand, tsk-ing sympathy and maternal disapproval. She led me to the Lost Kids Corral- what looked to me like a mix between a Pizza Hut and a massage parlor. Everything was a lot bigger than me.

Eventually my frantic parents found me and, relieved, led me back to the car.

That was quite enough adventure for one afternoon, thank you very much.
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Joe- - age 2 or 3- Orem, Utah

Mom and Dad left that morning, leaving my aunt to babysit my little brother and me. She was alright, sometimes we could even sneak peanut butter from the drawer and smear it into our faces.

But today, aunt wasn't feeling well. She sat down in front of the TV and turned it to the news. Bored, I walked to the door and pushed. It opened. I looked at aunt one more time, then quietly let myself into the hot July summer.

I ran.

I made it about two blocks until I had to slow down and breathe. I made it! I was out!

Now what?

I wandered around the neighborhood, looking for frogs, bugs, or hard green fruit (perfect for throwing). Suddenly a car stopped next to me and a loud voice boomed,

"What are you doing?"

I froze, looking into the sunglasses-and-hat face of cop. He climbed out of the patrol car, his gear squeaking, his gun swinging. He opened the back door of the car with a loud,

"Climb on in, we'll get you home!"

I was pretty nervous.

Am I being arrested? I wondered. Would they ever let me out again?

Soon, the car pulled over at a brown house. The officer let me out and walked me to the door. A big lady came out, holding a toddler in her arms.

"Mrs. Smith, I've got another one" the officer said, pushing me forward.

Reluctantly, I walked toward her. She nudged me inside, asking the officer questions about me. Then she gave me a popsicle

This isn't bad, I thought to myself.

Pretty soon, Mom and aunt came to the door. Mom was mad, but at aunt for a change instead of me.

I decided that running away was pretty OK.

What I Learned Living in Alaska

Growing up in Alaska means that you learn about real-life survival from the time you start to walk. Its less, "don't talk to strangers!" and more "here's what plants you can eat if you're ever lost in the woods." I love my home, but coming to the 'lower 48', as we call y'all down here, gave me lots of opportunities to compare my upbringing to that of my Utah friends. Here's what I discovered:

1. Alaska is part of North America

Duh.

But I have to say this before I start because not everyone knows this. In fact, a shocking amount of people don't know this. I came to Utah and met a great girl who didn't know that you can drive from Alaska to Utah. I felt the weight of America's public education system crush my hopes for the future.

These are also the folks voting for and against ANWR. If that doesn't make your conservationalist and oil-needy selves nervous, I don't know what will.

I also enjoy when people think that Alaska floats somewhere off the coast of California. I wish it did, think of all the lovely beaches we Alaskans would enjoy.

2. Slang Defines and Marks You

"Hey did you bring any bug dope?"
"I posted a picture of my snowmachine on Facebook"
"Can I borrow a Carrs bag?"
"I'm wearing my cold gear"

The fist two here are the most important, and frankly, whenever I use them in Utah, people give me really strange looks. But I refuse to stop using them, because the moment I call a snowmachine a snowmob-... that word..., my Alaskan-ness is pfffft gone.

This is huge.

A snowmachine is the machine with handlebars and a track and that heavenly gas-and-oil exhaust. A snowmobile is what everyone who has never ridden as snowmachine calls it. That's pretty much the distinction. If you want to label yourself as a first-time-tourist in AK, then by all means use the term snowmobile. If you want to fit right in, say snowmachine and you'll be riding with the best of them.

The second term, 'bug dope', is insect repellent. I'm frankly surprised that it doesn't say 'dope' on the can, because that's what its called in Alaska where the mosquito is the state bird.

Carrs was our grocery store chain. Now safeway bought it out, but a Carrs bag is just a normal grocery bag, but with that hometown charm. On another note, my roommates were from the south, and Publix is to them what Carrs is to me.

Finally, cold gear is a broad statement including everything from fleece to smartwool to snowpants and boots. When I say cold gear, I'm referring to the fleece that I wear skiing.

I could go on about the sayings that are popular in Utah, where a premie isn't a baby who was born early. I also died laughing the first time I heard my Utah roommate say "let's go play!" Its really a culture thing.

On a sidenote, I guess a girl that calls insect spray "dope" can't really make fun of my wonderful Utah friends, even if they do say some odd things.

3. Guns

Welcome to the land where not owning a gun probably means that you or one you love will die.

Ok, that's a little drastic. But really, you are living where you could surprise an animal (like a bear), and the consequences are usually not very pretty. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. For example, an Alaskan neighbor of mine saved a girl from a bear, story here. If she had carried a gun and known how to use it, she wouldn't have needed a rescuer. Gun knowledge and ownership is crucial here and the idea of losing gun rights in such a wild area makes me shiver. Its one of the areas in the U.S. where having a gun isn't just a fun right that lets you go shooting for kicks, it may be the difference one day between life and death. So anyway, just something to consider next time that comes up for referendum.

4. People Who Move to Alaska

This is just a heads up for any of you considering Alaska as a permanent home. I watched many couples move to AK for a job, for family, for adventure. Usually (not always, though), one spouse of the new family (usually the husband) would fall head-over-heels in love with Alaska. He would grow his beard, buy Carhart everything, get a beater truck, and fish or hunt every night. He would be passionately in  love with the raw beauty of Alaska.

But.

The wife would be upset. Oh, she would try to love it, she really would. But dang it, if ONE more moose eats her garden, she's gonna blow. She's sick of scrubbing and bleaching and soaking various clothing pieces to remove the fish egg smell, and she misses her mom and sisters.

So. All this comes to an ultimatum. She says, "we are moving out of here next week, or we are getting a divorce." Usually they move back to civilization, the wife ecstatic to leave "that awful place", and the husband leaving his soul in Alaska.

5. Beater Trucks and Winter Coats

In Utah, there's this cute fashion of wearing little wedge shoes around town during winter. And in Utah, that's OK. Sure, your feet will get wet and cold, but its not like you'll lose a toe to frostbite here.

In Alaska, warm is a fashion statement. I used to wear thick fuzzy socks to church on Sunday with my skiing coldweather fleece beneath a long skirt (although I admit, this was a new thing for my fellow worshipers to witness).

Chic Alaskan women sport (usually) clean (sometimes) namebrand winter coats in varying colors. In high school, the cool kids wore the huge down jackets that were bigger than they were. Here's another thing: nobody cares what you drive! If your car can make it down to Jim Creek (photo on the right), than its a keeper.

If you are foolish enough to buy a luxury car, then it will always be dirty and you can only drive it for one month out of the year anyway. The most admired and sought-after items in Alaska are ones that will be functional for a long time and that will get you to the places that make living in Alaska worthwhile.

I love my home. Alaska will always run in my veins, as deep as bone and as true as blood. I'll never be able to truly leave it, even if I live where fashion rivals function and cars determine status for the rest of my life.

Alaska will always define me.

(this picture, by the way, was taken from my bedroom window. Jealous?)