Wilson Bay by Conley Stone McAnally

 

Are you still Christmas shopping? This will help!

 

An excerpt from Wilson Bay, Conley Stone McAnally's new book on his experiences in Alaska. This is such a good read. I treasure books like this because they remind me of an epigram in one of my books: "Sometimes we forget that everyone else is living their moments while we're busy living ours." The world is a big place. Don't miss a bit of it!



Wilson Bay

...The meat is divided among the hunters in proportion to the help each provided during the hunt. It is cheaper than buying beef at the village store.  

The intestines will be sold to a craftsman that will produce a water proof rain coat to sell to the tourists that want to show people after they return home how ingenious Eskimos can be.  

The skin is used for ceremonial clothing and repairing of artifacts that the Eskimos keep around more to impress the tourists than anything else.  The best part of the skin, however is taken to the eldest of the Elders.  He or she makes the selection as to who will be given the task, and then the village waits.

A three foot diameter circle is made by the selected craftsman by carving, bending, heating, and pressing driftwood together.  It is held in place by a stone vice while a handle made from ivory or still more driftwood is attached by sinew.  The length of the handle depends on the size of the beater. 

 The skin, after being cured, cleaned, and scraped to a shinny surface is stretched tightly across the circular frame.  The instrument is left to dry and harden in the sun, thus further stretching the skin tighter, thereby giving it it’s haunting melodious sound.  

The eldest of the Elders directs how the product is to be decorated.  A different craftsman provides the ceremonial decorations.  The item is then presented to the eldest of the Elders for approval. 

 After an ancient blessing, that no one now alive knows how long it has been chanted, a crafted willow stick strikes the middle of the drum and it resonates though out the tundra as all previous drums on the tundra have done for ten thousand years...

 

Note:  Conley's first book is Tales From Homer.

 

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www.JanelleMerazHooper.com



Death on the Tundra, saying goodbye to Bright Moon, Conley Snapper McAnally, guest blogger

Alaskan cemetary © 1984 Janelle Meraz Hooper



One of my favorite writers, Conley Snapper McAnally, has a blog (http://conleymcanally.blogspot.com/ ) that is near and dear to my heart because one of his subjects is Alaska. I've invited him to share one of his posts because it exemplifies a thought I've written often, "Sometimes we forget that everyone else is living their moments while we're living ours..." 

When I was a docent in the Anchorage Museum many years ago, I came to love and respect the native cultures. I hope you enjoy this little window into Alaskan Native culture as much as I did.

Conley writes about all of his world travels. I also love his stories from Italy. Check out his blog!

Death on the Tundra

Saying goodbye to Bright Moon

© Conley Snapper McAnally

Bright Moon and a bunch of her friends were riding their four-wheelers on the beach late one night. They were playing a game the kids called ditch'em. Bright Moon was riding with three other girls when they hit a piece of driftwood and were thrown in different directions. All suffered head trauma. They were evacuated to the regional hospital a couple of hundred miles away by plane.  No small feat in the middle of the night in the Alaskan bush but unfortunately a common one. Bright Moon was the most severely injured so she was sent to Anchorage. The family managed to raise enough money to be at her side the next day and eventually faced the horrendous decision of pulling the plug.

School was sort of a dismal place waiting for news about Bright Moon's condition. The vice-principal spoke over the intercom to try and set the record straight about her condition and asked everyone to observe a moment of silent prayer. An hour later he came back over the intercom and informed us that Bright Moon had died. School was dismissed.

The next day some village elders, a social worker, and the missionary came to Bright Moon's classroom and had everyone who wanted to talk about her and more or less comfort one another. They sang songs, held hands, and prayed. No separation of church and state that day.

A day or so later her body was flown back to the village where it was laid out on the family's living room floor. The wake was like a wake anywhere else. Friends and neighbors brought food, shared hugs and memories, shed tears, and bid Bright Moon farewell.

The next day a large funeral was held in the school gym. All the stores were closed, school was put on hold, and even the post office closed down.

A few days later Bright Moon's mother came to our classroom and presented us with an 8x10 colored photograph of Bright Moon. I found an old rosary and draped it over the picture. The picture and rosary hung there the rest of the school year.

When I returned the next school year the picture was still hanging on the wall. Some of Bright Moon's friends came by and asked if they could take it to their new classroom. It was a procedure that would be followed until her class graduated from high school.

The yearbook that year will have a page dedicated to Bright Moon and her presence and at the graduation ceremony her picture will be placed on the seat where she would have sat. Her name will be read as if receiving a diploma and then a close friend or relative will carry the picture down the aisle toward the future that should have been hers.

Note: Conley was a teacher in Alaska for several years.

You can't win an occupation

fantasy cover

Don't look for this cover in bookstores. It was just me and a digital camera fooling around. I still like it, though. The actual cover of my new novel was done by a professional...that's why they get the big bucks.

Sign from the Republican Convention--This got lost in my notes:

You can't win an occupation- Think about it...

The only quote of John McCain's that wasn't same-o, same-o:

"Education is the civil rights issue of this century."

Overheard conversation: It's no trick to balance the budget in Alaska when oil is $140.00 a barrel."

Quote du jour:

"Politics, it seems to me, for years, or all too long, has been concerned with right or left instead of right or wrong." Richard Armour (courtesy of Brainyquote.com)

http://www.janellemerazhooper.com/

10 days to Winter Solstice...

copyright 1999, Dick Hooper

Countdown: 10 days!

Ten days until Winter Solstice! It's a big date for me, as I hate the dark winters. The only time I haven't was when I was a docent at The Anchorage Museum...where winters were the darkest. Every morning, I'd spring out of bed and race down the hill so I'd be at the museum in time for the first school bus to roll in. Before I left our apartment, I'd always tell my husband that I'd be back early enough to get our dinner cooked, but everyday, it seemed, I'd fly through the apartment door just before he did. I could go on and on about Alaska, but this is not the place. Maybe another time.

Now, in Washington, I am without my beloved museum, and it is just dark. I don't even bother to look for my coffeepot until eight o'clock. The only light bounces off my laptop screen when it flashes Yahoo!

Woo-hoo! I answer back. Saved for another day. Did I tell you there are only ten more days until Winter Solstice? I think I did.

Oh! The photo of the two moose was taken by my husband. He has a ton of them.

Custer and His Naked Ladies was written in the Southwest, and it's a good cure for winter darkness. The days must grow shorter, even down there, but I don't remember. I do remember being cold. In Alaska, I learned that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad gear." In Oklahoma, all of my gear was bad because I chose my wardrobe for looks. I guess I was trying to keep up with my peers. So I looked good--even if my skin was blue. As I write this, I'm wearing my sheepskin house slippers, so I have learned something...