Lifeline

Each of us have different reasons for remembering the things we do. For me, my high school years were important for various reasons. I feel I became a man during that time, the draft was looming large and had to be dealt with, I made friendships that continue to this day, and you folks are still some of the best people I've ever known, but there was one other reason that didn't show up until 7 years later.

The pictures above are of the same place, taken at different angles, and obviously at different times of the year. In 1977 Uncle Sam decided to send me to this place. A rock named Shemya near the end of the Aleutian Islands, and believe me, you never fully get a good look inside yourself until you go to a place like this. Three hundred and sixty five days in Purgatory, or as we used to say at Shemya, "This place isn't the end of the world, but you can see the edge from here". It was isolated, desolate, barren and bleak. And those were it's good points. We got mail twice a week and phone calls on and off the island were limited by time and how bad the weather was, which was usually very bad. I can recall spending 3 days stuck in one building because the wind was gusting to over 100mph and we couldn't go outside, or getting 16" of snow one day and the next day the wind blew so hard it blew all the snow off the island. We once went almost 70 days in a row without seeing the sun, and nearly two months with the wind over 30mph while at the same time the fog was so thick you couldn't see 10 feet. But there were some nice things too. I saw the northern lights and the "green flash" that's visible just as the sun dips below the horizon, and I'm one of the few people who can say he went swimming in the Bering Sea.

The point to all this is when you're stuck in a place where lonliness is so consuming, you cling to things that make you smile. Things that make you feel good and help you stay steady and in some cases even protect your sanity. Things like pictures and memories of better times. For me, the pictures and memories were of my family, obviously, and of you guys too. You were in effect, a lifeline. Something I could turn to when it seemed like I'd never get back to the real world.

Thank you.