We're All in This Together

Just a drive through Mendenhall Valley

I have only been in Juneau since December first but I already know that this is unlike any other place I have lived or visited. People say here that we are all in this together. It’s not a bad thing. Juneau is not something to be endured. It something to be experienced. Juneau is beautiful, small, and isolated. To leave town, you either have to take the ferry or fly or, be like bears in Haines and swim. But, really, with swimming, you aren’t going to get far. Even if we take the cold out of the equation. 

This isolation, this sense of being all together in a rugged environment, with cold winters and tourist filled summers, really affects how you treat your fellow man. I’ve noticed that my normally short fuse is getting just a little bit longer and, when I have gotten upset with someone, I have been quick to apologize. This is a state capital, yet, with a population or right around 30,000 folks spread over a mind boggling 3,255 square miles (my home town of Portland is only 145 square miles) with only 91 miles of paved road, running into your neighbor, your bank teller, your pastor, your bartender is an everyday occurrence. It helps keep your attitude in check. It helps you fake that smile and that friendly greeting and what I’ve discovered is that it those faux-happy expressions into true expressions of friendliness ad gratitude.

Starting to make some friends, the festive type. 

Whether you live in Downtown or Douglas Island (where I live), or in the Valley, or Out the Road, people seem pretty much the same: laid back, easy going, salt of the earth, just, good people. I’m not used to that. I’m used to the hipster snobbery of Portland, Oregon. I’m into the me-first attitude and the what’s mine is mind and what’s yours is also mine attitude. I'm used to those with friendly faces and daggers for your back. This attitude, the Juneau attitude, is refreshing and really gives that feeling of everyone being in this together.

Like many folks, before moving here, I sold most of my belongings… especially my furniture. Basically, if I couldn’t fit it in my car (which I barged over) or get mailed in a regular sized box, it didn’t make the trip to Juneau. I liked the idea of simplifying. Selling half of my books, most of my DVDS and a bunch of other stuff that was not being used and was taking up space. Part of the desire to move to Alaska was for a fresh start. To simplify. To breathe in the things in life that matter. To be outside and one with nature. To fall in love again with the Creator and with the Creation. To renew my poor opinion of mankind. 

This is starting to happen. 

One of my friends here called me a couple of weeks ago. His girlfriend was moving in and he had some extra furniture. He asked if we wanted it. A sectional. A bench. An ottoman. He topped it off with some cookware, pots, pans, plates, etc. Of course we sad yes. Later, I posted an ad on Next Door asking if anyone had any dishes that we could buy for the holidays, as we had company coming into town. I had to take the ad down because, within minutes, I had more texts and e mails for people willing to give us dishes or let us borrow dishes. Nothing in return. That’s just how people are here: generous, kind, unassuming. I guess that’s the norm here. People don’t throw stuff out. They don’t sell it at exorbitant prices. They just give it away. And why shouldn’t they? After all, we are all in this together.

Just take it slow

This view from my windows helps me slow down and enjoy life.

I am one of the most impatient, fast moving people that you will ever meet. My ADHD has me constantly fidgeting. My speed pedal frequently goes to the metal and, like most people, I loathe waiting in lines.

Alaska is changing this.

Here in Juneau, it’s a much slower pace and I have to learn to adjust. That’s one of my goals in moving here: slowing down and just enjoying the journey, without worrying about the destination. Besides, right now, I am not working. I don’t start my job until Thursday. I literally have nowhere to go and no reason to be in a hurry.

The main road in an out of town has a max speed of 55. Most people here abide by the speed limit and, because there is not much traffic, we seem to be able to travel just fine. Very few horns blare, There has been one reported accident in the two plus weeks that I have been here.

But, you know, even the lines at stores move slow. The tellers check your item with no real sense of urgency. Part of this, I am sure, is due to a lack of competition, but, I also think it’s the slower pace of life here in general. People talk slower, walk slower, drive slower. Most shops in downtown Juneau don’t open before ten and are usually closed by 6. Most are closed on Sundays. This time of year, the sun is up for about five and a half hours a day, yet the slow pace seems fitting.

Because of the limited errand daylight hours, I find myself more efficient. I don’ waste time lollygagging as I would back in Portland, but part of that stems from the fact that everything is so close and I know there won’t be any traffic.

I know I’m contradicting myself here. But, trust me, I am making a conscious effort to slow down. While removing snow from my steps, I catch myself stopping and looking behind me at Mt. Juneau. It still stuns me. I swear, it’s a movie back drop. I’ll just stand there and look at it. I look up at the sky and he Big Dipper is directly overhead. Big Dipper Writing and Editing is the name of my writing/editing business, so, that makes me smile.

I wake up open my curtains to a view that can’t even be described by pictures and drink my coffee in the window by the chair. Maybe I read a book. But I slow down. I don’t start my day with a bang, I simply sit and relax and let the beauty soak in.

I stop to greet total strangers, I learn peoples’ names, I find out their stories, I find inspiration in nature and in other people and I find myself checking my bad attitude before it has a chance to take root.

I hope all these little changes last. I hope I will continue to drive a little slower, walk a little slower, be less impatient, and simply stop and reflect on God, on nature, on other people. Life is too short for impatience and speed. Alaska is helping me slow down and simply enjoy the beauty around and within.