The American Dream

On Saturday morning, we awoke early to take care of the last few tax customers in Grayling before flying to the village of Holy Cross as soon as the sun rose. The flights in that region do not fly in the dark. The sun rises at around 10am that far west of Anchorage.

After finishing my work, I had a little time to explore Grayling.



Journal excerpt:
I explored the school halls, cafeteria and gym. There is a chicken house out front which they built last fall. They have 20 chickens which are just starting to lay eggs. Next year they hope to add some goats.
I strolled the streets of Grayling. They are actually a criss-crossing maze of snowmachine tracks. I passed a log church, the log Community Hall, and the 2-story log Tribal Council office. I made my way down to the banks of the Yukon, along which there are snow covered picnic tables and benches. In a little over a month, the racers in the Iditarod will come to Grayling along the frozen Yukon. The Community Hall is a checkpoint in the race. Some of the mushers will rest for a while in Grayling before continuing on toward Nome.

As I wandered around Grayling in the predawn darkness, I was struck by how much it reminded me of the small pioneer towns of the midwest during the late 1800's. This place could have found a place in one of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books... Little Town on the Yukon, perhaps. It has all the simple practicality and community comraderie which is necessary to survive in isolated locations. Added to that is the availability of modern conveniences like indoor plumbing and internet access. So there, on the banks of the Yukon, to my way of thinking, exists the true American Dream. All the simplicity of yesteryear coupled with the convenience of today.

But before you all pack up and head to the Bush, I should mention one other thing. The instant after my revelation that I had found the American Dream, I realized it was completely out of reach for the average person. I could not have it. Even if I moved us out there to Grayling or some other pleasant Bush village, the Dream would be out of my reach. There is not a place for me in the millenia of history of those peoples. The Dream there is theirs to have and to keep. Most of them are content to do so. Some of them, usually the youth, escape the village to see what the larger world has to offer. Only to find out they've given up more than they'll gain Outside. I can't imagine the snow is whiter on the other side of the river.



There are some people who can and do find a place for themselves in Alaska Native villages. The schools often hire teachers on one year contracts from the lower-48. But most teachers stay for one year and move on. The pay is not great and the hours are often long. But some land in situations which make it possible to attain the Dream. These, in my opinion, are the lucky ones.