Another Alaska Marine Highway Adventure

07 Sunday Apr 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Outdoor Action

The Kennicott

The majority of my Alaska living and exploring has taken place in the Interior of Alaska and the Kenai Peninsula. In 2010, I decided it was time to visit Alaska’s capital, in Juneau, try out the Marine Highway, and catch a glimpse of SE Alaska.

The State of Alaska owns a ferry fleet that sails from Bellingham WA (North of Seattle) to Whittier AK (South of Anchorage) and west to the Aleutian Chain. The ferries offer a cruise ship alternative with cabin accommodations, restaurants, sightseeing activities, and the ability to carry vehicles. Some tourists choose this alternative. Many locals choose this option. Locals in SE Alaska use this as their highway between communities.

http://www.akmhs.com/

My sister and I took the ferry from Whittier to Yakutat to Juneau. We slept in a tiny berth with no windows. We ate in the cafeteria, watched movies and ate popcorn in the train car size theater, sat on the main deck and took in the views, and marveled at the people who paid for walk-on accommodations only and then camped outside on the deck with a lawn chair or in a tent. We did not see many families; the passengers were primarily single adults of all ages, and older couples.

We liked the cost, informality, casual dress, close proximity to the water – and that we did not get seasick. We did not like that we locked ourselves out of our small private bathroom at 3:00 am.

Last summer, 2013, I decided to try putting a vehicle on the ferry. I purchased tickets several months in advance.

In July, I drove from Soldotna to Valdez (approximately 10-11 hours.) At one of the Valdez Museums, I showed slides from ‘A’ is for Alaska: Teacher to the Territory, about Anna Bortel who had taught in Valdez from 1954 to 1957. I then toured two other museums.

“Goat Trail’

Jim Shephard, a long-time Valdezan and history buff, had recently hand-cleared a 2.5 mile section of the historic Goat Trail; which at one time served as a throughway between Valdez and Fairbanks. I never miss an opportunity to hike. He offered to be my guide. That day, heavy fog and drizzle closed in Prince William Sound and up the Thompson highway — to the trailhead. Jim was a nimble guide. The slippery rocks and roots, and the trail-edge drop-offs that were camouflaged by tall, dense underbrush, by no means discouraged or impeded his progress. He was in his element. I was glad for the leather, water-proof gloves his wife had loaned me. I loved every minute of it.

“Goat Trail” Trail Head

Before returning to Soldotna, I accepted an invitation from Jim and his wife Charlotte, to join them for lunch and hot tea at the Tiekel Roadhouse. They’d purchased and made livable the roadhouse which is the only roadhouse still intact between Valdez and Fairbanks. Their hospitality and history-telling was the highlight of my trip.

Tiekel Roadhouse

I regretted scheduling a too-short time in Valdez.

Departure day loomed.

Port Valdez

I was apprehensive about getting my vehicle on and off the ferry. I nagged my brother and other family members about the “how to.” I nagged the terminal staff. Then I followed staff instructions and lined up in the designated lane of small trucks and SUVs.

Mellow Yellow — waiting….

When the time came to board, it was a piece of cake, or shall I say, a piece of Alaska Rhubarb Pie. Simple. The on-board attendants directed me to my spot, ushered me out of my pick-up, and blocked the vehicle tires so there would be no shifting weight during the trip.

Safe and Secure

I went up to the main deck, got a cup of steaming tea, and settled down to watch the fog roll in and out, the glacier-blue ice chunks floating in clusters, and otters and whales cavorting.

Whittier, Alaska

One and a half hours later, I was at Whittier. Too-quick; but it sure beat the long drive inland. Two hours later, I was back in Soldotna.

Where do I want to go next? This June, Jim and Charlotte are taking the ferry from Homer to Dutch Harbor (down the Aleutian Chain.) I’d love to join them. I would not love that it is in “The Deadliest Catch” water. The Alaska Marine Highway agents assure me that that’s why they only run the ferry in the summer months – when the weather is better. Better than what? I’ll wait for a first-hand report from Jim and Charlotte.

Baby Chicks: Early Memories

28 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Holidays and Special Occasions

≈ 2 Comments

Ruby Leppke: Kansas Farm Girl, holding lamb, with Naomi standing behind

My earliest memories are of baby chicks, barn cats under my grandparents’ porch, dogs named “Shep,” sweet-eyed calves, and wooly lambs. Then our family moved to Alaska. Alaska was not like Central Kansas. My new memories were of moose, bears, salmon, and “camp robbers” (Canadian Jays). I missed the farm immensely.

Our first Christmas in Alaska, a large box of gifts arrived. After it had been emptied, I crawled inside, pulled down the top flags, and called out, “Mommy, sent me to Grandma’s house!” She didn’t. Although with the bickering I did with my sister, chances are she would have liked to.

My father transferred with Public Health Services to Browning, MT. That Easter, my mother brought home four pastel-dyed fuzzy chicks. Their box sat on the black-and-white linoleum tiled kitchen floor. We four children, ages 18-months to nine-years, loved the chicks. They felt so soft against our cheeks.

Then the cute chicks turned into teenagers and developed prickly pin feathers. Their pretty colors faded. We lost our enthusiasm for holding them. One Sunday, Mom gathered up the teenagers, and on the way to Star Baptist Church in the country, we stopped at a Blackfeet Indian home and gifted them the pets, which probably turned into produce —- either egg-layers or supper.

Later, when my parents returned to Alaska and homesteaded, Mom bought chicks for the summer time. They lived in the chicken coop along the driveway – until the weather turned cold. Then she gifted them to Betty, our homestead neighbor from Nebraska, who kept her farm going year-around.

Every Easter, I think of the chicks. Sometimes I stop by a feed store just to look at chicks. A week or two ago, I drove past the Feed Store in town and the sign read “Order your Chicks Now.” I actually considered it — for a second.

A few days ago, I picked up the local paper and read “Baby Chicks a Popular Easter Gift for Kids.” A reporter, who I email occasionally with article ideas, had followed-up on my suggestion that he write about Parker Feed, one of the remaining landmarks of what this town used to be – a ranching town. I smiled. I emailed him. He thanked me for the idea.

http://www.ourcoloradonews.com/parker/news/baby-chicks-a-popular-easter-gift-for-kids/article_9c9a74aa-956c-11e2-b3f7-0019bb2963f4.html

Some year I’ll have to buy myself some Easter chicks, even if they aren’t dyed anymore. I’ll hold them against my check — and reminisce about the joys of having a farm-girl mama.

Know of anyone who’d like an after-Easter gift?

Good Adventure and Bad Adventure: Choose a Good Prescription

22 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Womens' Safety and Protection

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I like prescriptions for adventure — especially outdoor adventure. I read books about mountain climbers, barefoot runners, early explorers in the Grand Canyon, pilots heading into trouble, and Antarctica survivors . I enjoy interviewing people who appear to me as adventurers – translators/interpreters, entrepreneurs, teachers and healthcare workers in remote areas, and ordinary people making a difference with what they’ve been given for resources or talents. I stand behind causes such as Free the Girls, Christians for Biblical Equality, and Women and Family Crisis Centers.

At the same time, I do not applaud foolhardiness, nonchalance, or tempting fate. I applaud women watching out for themselves – and making the time to take self-defense classes and attend self-protection seminars; reading books and blogs about protecting themselves; teaching women safety strategies; working with victim’s advocacy; and forming support groups.

I recently attended two “Realistic Safety Solutions for Women” by Nicole Sundine. Please check out her website, attend a seminar, get on her email newsletter list, or buy her book —any of these are a prescription for a good adventure:

http://www.realisticsafetysolutions.com/

There’s bad adventure out there that I don’t want – and I don’t want any other woman or girl to have it either. Choose your prescriptions carefully.

‘A’ is for Anaktuvuk: Teacher to the Nunamiut Eskimos — 20-some Years in the Making

22 Friday Mar 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Alaska

≈ 4 Comments

I’m really not sure how it happened, but twenty-some years ago, after I’d completed Prescription for Adventure: Bush Pilot Doctor, my second-grade school teacher, Anna Bortel (Church) and I sat across my dining room table and leafed through letters, newspaper clippings, and school newspapers she’d saved from her teaching experiences in Alaska; and then we projected Kodak slides against a blank wall.

Never did I think a video-trailer was in the future. I was writing with a pencil, mailing rewrites in stamped envelopes, and wondering how to turn slides into half-tones into photos in a book. It’s not always a bad thing to have a slow-growing project.

Why did I persist? I was captivated and inspired by Anna’s heart-warming, humorous, and amazing stories. Just as the Alaska spawning salmon swim upstream, so had this single woman pushed against a society that expected her to fit the mold of wife and mother. When this rite of passage eluded her, Anna did not bemoan her singlehood. Instead, in 1954 she drove from Ohio, up the Alaska-Canada Highway, to Valdez, where snow was measured in feet and an Easter Egg hunt unheard of. There she taught for three years.

Her curiosity about Alaska wasn’t quelled. In 1957, she pushed farther north to Tanana, an isolated Athabascan village along the Yukon River. Teaching and living in drafty Quonset huts with freezing oil lines at 50 below zero added to her teaching rigors. Discouraged? Yes. Daunted? No. That’s where I met her. That’s when she became my mother’s best friend. That’s where she accompanied my physician father on a medical field trip to Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska, where the last roving bands of Nunamiuts, and the only inland Eskimos in Alaska, followed the caribou.

The trip to Anaktuvuk Pass took her even farther north. While my father checked for ear infections, tuberculosis, and nutrition issues, Anna assessed the need for education. The elders of the clan were determined to provide education within their settlement, rather than send their children to boarding school. The obstacles were daunting for a school teacher: no school building, no tent or sod house available for a teacherage, no roads to transport building supplies, no airstrip, no wood for fuel except willows, no public services besides a post office, and few English-speaking adults and children. Simon Paneak and other elders begged her to return and teach – in a place where sled dogs outnumbered the 98 people.

She returned to Tanana, She prayed. She waited. In 1960, Anna became the first permanent school teacher in Anaktuvuk Pass. Because of her willingness to live in a sod house, melt snow for water, use a kerosene lamp for light – and – teach children that ‘A’ is for ALASKA, ‘B’ is for BEAR, and ‘C’ is for CARIBOU, and adults to write their names, an airstrip was build to haul in construction materials for a school. And, the Natives ceased their perpetual migration to settle in the middle of the wide, windswept pass.

In 1960, Ernest Gruening, U.S. Senator from Alaska, described the dilemma Alaskan educators face and the determination of the Native people to obtain an education. He held up Anna Bortel as the ideal teacher, “one able to comprehend their problem, one kind and sympathetic, and above all one able to adjust to all conditions that might face her.”

Over the course of 20-some years, Anna and I worked with her stories. She had the facts, details, conversations, and photos. I crafted her material into chapters with settings, additional facts, geography, flashbacks to childhood, foreshadowing, transitions, and conclusions. I expected the results would be one book. The word count was too high. The stories over-flowed into two books.

‘A’ is for Alaska: Teacher to the Territory covers the drive to Alaska, Valdez (1954 – 1957), and Tanana (1957-1960).

‘A’ is for Anaktuvuk: Teacher to the Nunamiut Eskimos grabs some pieces from the first book, to orient the reader, and then documents the history-changes of the Nunamiuts from 1960-1962 – all in humorous, heart-wrenching, and compelling stories.

I wanted Anna’s story to be written down –and shared with her family and friends. At the same time, given how my German-Russian Mennonite heritage is significant to me, I wanted the Nunamiuts to be able to know, read, remember, and pass along their traditions and heritage.

The Simon Paneak Museum is eager to use ‘A’ is for Anaktuvuk: Teacher to the Nunamiut Eskimos as a resource in the museum, for tourist awareness, school education, and resident pride.

Now, twenty-some years later, Anna’s story is told, a segment of the Nunamiut’s history is recorded, and a video-trailer is made. Now, Anna smiles from much deserved accolades and congratulations. Now, I smile that twenty-some years of work is completed.

Outhouse races, Snowshoe Softball, Snowball Fight Tournament, Dog Races = Fur Rendezvous

21 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Fur Rendezvous, Anchorage, Alaska, 1956

The 78th Fur Rendezvous starts tomorrow in Anchorage, Alaska, and runs through March 3, 2013. The event started in 1935. I’d love to see the Outhouse races, Snowshoe Softball, Running of the Reindeer, Great Alaskan Bed Races, Snow Sculptures, Snowball Fight Tournament, Ice Bowling – and more!

My one and only time at the Fur Rendezvous was …a long time ago…..

Naomi, Ruby, Ruth Gaede

(Excerpt from Alaska Bush Pilot Doctor)

Anchorage, Alaska 1956

As told by Elmer E. Gaede

“The Anchorage Fur Rendezvous, held in February, provided more entertainment. Originally a celebration when trappers came to sell their winter’s cache of furs, this annual, ten‑day cabin‑fever antidote attracted crowds of Natives and whites. The hustle and bustle of dogsled races, dog‑pull contests, snow‑shoe races, and fur auctions nearly shut down 5th Avenue. In one of the open lots there was a platform with hundreds of raw furs, sectioned off for red fox, white fox, mink, beaver, muskrat, lynx, and wolverine. ..

…. At the first of the Rendezvous, I bid on the red fox and got two for $5 each. The next day, some of the same quality of fox went up to $20 each. I was told that I did well to bid early since the furs usually sell low the first few days before the buying interest is up. Later, when the buying fever was aroused, the prices would go up.

When the furs were brought in from the cold and into a warm room The odor went up later, too. Some of the furs came from villages where they had been tanned in barrels of human urine… I learned that in fur selection, one needs to use both eyes and nose.”

Ruth and Naomi with fox skins

(Excerpts from http://www.anchorage.net/articles/anchorage-fur-rendezvous)

Fan favorites, such as the Outhouse Races, always draw a crowd. Dog teams and their mushers complete three 25-mile loops over three days. One of the newest events is Yukigassen, a team snowball fight tournament that joined the lineup in 2011.

Native culture is celebrated in many ways.

Blanket Toss at 1956 Fur Rendezvous

- The Blanket Toss mimics the Alaska Native whaling tradition. Everyone can have a turn to either jump or grip the (walrus skin) blanket’s edge while tossing others as high as 20 feet into the air.

- Arts and crafts are displayed.

- Tribal regalia, customs and culture vary greatly between Alaska’s distinct Native cultures. The Multi-tribal Gathering celebrates their diversity, joining cultural performers and visual artists in a one-day extravaganza

Fur Rendezvous – 1956

For more information, including the schedule of events and travel specials, visit http://www.furrondy.net/ or

Writing in Crock-Pot Mode

19 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Book Reviews

≈ 1 Comment

Rhoda Ahgook and Naomi in Anaktuvuk Pass, AK – 2009

Twenty-some years I started researching and writing the Anna Bortel Teacher stories. In 2011, ‘A’ is for Alaska: Teacher to the Territory was released. A month ago, January 2013, ‘A’ is for Anaktuvuk: Teacher to the Nunamiut Eskimos arrived on my doorstep.

Over the course of these writing years, I returned to the Alaska settings: To Tanana, Alaska a handful of times and Anaktuvuk Pass, Alaska once. I worked alongside Anna on countless occasions, both in Denver, CO and in Newberg, OR.

Naomi interviewing Anna and making documentary DVD – 2008

The books had starts and stops, fits, re-boots, and sudden-death.

I did not write with lightening speed of a creative muse. I plodded.

My desire was that the history of the moment be recorded and not lost, while at the same time, the reader turned the pages as if they were fiction.

Most books don’t just-happen.

Most books don’t happen over-night.

Most books don’t happen with a stroke of genius and “I couldn’t put down my pen.”

Most books are like slow and steady crock-pots.

I recently read these non-fiction narrative books:

Hunting Eichmann: How a Band of Survivors and a Young Spy Agency Chased Down the World’s Most Notorious Nazi by Neal Bascomb.

Hunting Eichmann: How a Band of Survivors and a Young Spy Agency Chased Down the World's Most Notorious Nazi

Issac’s Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in Historyby Erik Larson.

Isaac's Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History

The Last Season by Eric Blehm.

The Last Season (P.S.)

These authors weren’t trying to giddily set a record for the fastest-book-written. No. They soberly met the challenge of doing a technical climb up a “Mt. Everest” of research. They spent years of tedious and careful research gathering, sorting and sifting facts, minutia, observations, speculations, and conversations. Not only was their research done in archives, libraries, and offices with print, photos, and interviews, but at the physical locations of their stories – where they could feel, walk, smell what it was like for their characters.

As if the stories aren’t captivating enough, in the back of each book is a lengthy documentation of phrases, interviews, interaction, and tidbits that were painstakingly woven together in a sequence that makes their non-fiction read like fiction.

For the grand finale of their print and bound accomplishment , the authors don’t pound their chests and strut in pride; they offer up acknowledgement for the people who assisted them in their research and writing marathon; not only with materials, permissions, and editing; but most likely with cups of coffee, help with daily housekeeping tasks, neck rubs, and some atta-boys. Most likely they used any strutting energy to crawl to the finish line.

These authors are my role models and mentors. They are the ones whose feet I’d like to sit and learn.

A Short Story Behind the YouTube of Alaska Bush Pilot Doctor

15 Friday Feb 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Mark

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Everything has a story — or so it seems to me. No mere incidences. The process of developing the YouTube for Alaska Bush Pilot Doctor is one of these stories.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=pItU8uxqtAg

The YouTube publisher allowed only 15 sec. I negotiated for 30.

The YouTube publisher used a female voice. I negotiated for a male voice.

The YouTube publisher put in a stock image of a de Haviland Beaver for the voiced “flew a J-3.” This book is about flying. Any pilot can spot the difference between a Beaver and a J-3. I negotiated for a change to a J-3.

The YouTube publisher put in generic/stock background music. I negotiated for my brother, Mark’s, music.

Mark was born a musician. He practiced rhythm as soon as he could crawl – with mom’s pots and pans that he pulled out of the cupboards and beat with a wooden spoon. Mom didn’t think this was cute. She saw no future in this.

When he could toddle about, he played a tiny piano.

He told me recently, “I first recognized pitches that were related when we lived in Tulare, California — I was around four-and-a-half. I was enthralled by the vinyl record we had of the Nut-Cracker Suite. That’s when I started to use the little pump organ, too.” Short as he was, and his legs were, that is hard for me to imagine. Mom played the pump organ and we had a piano. I don’t remember him playing either. He was sooo much younger than me (I was 10) and I didn’t pay much attention to him. I was busy roller-skating, dressing our black Pekingese dog in doll clothes, and learning how to make pancakes from scratch.

Our father played the accordion. Ruth and I followed suit, as did Mark – age five. In our family, it was not unusual to play a musical instrument — and to be good at it. Ruth and Mark were good at it. I just did it. We didn’t know we were living with a highly gifted child

At age ten, he was church organist– even though his feet barely touched the pedals. In grade school, his piano teacher was sorely vexed that he could play the music without reading the music — if he’d hear it once. She refused to play it for him. She was not keen on learning or playing music by ear, or allowing a musician to play what he or she hears in their head, and whose fingers play without conscious knowledge of how their fingers meet the keys.

He played trombone in junior high. In high school, the girls clustered around him in the music room where he played piano. He was short, but he was popular. The wild curly hair didn’t hurt.

He picked Mom’s mandolin and plucked a bass.

In his bedroom, with doors closed, he composed sound tracks on an old reel-to-reel. He borrowed a friend’s electric bass to add to his acoustic guitar and vocal tracks.

In his 20s, he was the basement go-to studio in Alaska for budding and wannabe vocalists who needed a demo tape to audition.

He’s cut three CDs

- Christmas music

- Original instrumental music

- Unreleased my hymns

Much of his second CD is melancholy. It reflects the turmoil and grief our families’ felt when Mom was dying, and Dad had already died. His CD of hymns is arranged in minor keys.

To make a long story short, I am very pleased with the TV trailer/YouTube of Alaska Bush Pilot Doctor. It’s more than a marketing tool. It’s brother-sister team-work and a blend of creativity where the sum is greater than the parts. It’s a story. I’d like more of these kinds of stories – with my little brother.

Psst! That’s not the only story about Mark. There are the J-3 stories, too.

Making Plans for your Trip to Alaska: A Prescription for Adventure

31 Thursday Jan 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Adventures

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If anyone is planning to fly to Alaska this summer, the time to make reservations …..was probably before now. I made reservations several weeks ago, for trips in April and in June. Unfortunately, I did not have enough frequent flier miles on Alaska Airlines for both trips. That was my own doing because I refuse to fly the red-eye back, which is the least expensive. If you have not flown to Alaska in the summer, you might not know that Frontier flies up —for the summer months only— and all their return flights are red-eyes, as are United’s and Delta’s. I fly AK Airlines because they have daytime flights back, I can use my miles, and I just really like AK Airlines — and the AK Airlines people seem to like working for AK Airlines, too, which shows in their attitudes at all stages of the trip. But, a few words for any Cheechakos flying up.

If you do make your reservations early, and particularly for flights June – August, do not be surprised if you get alerts that your flights have been changed — 2-3 times–before your departure date – no matter which airlines you fly on. It is wise to have a grip on this before you leave for the airport, and in case you have connecting flights..

If you fly through Seattle, AK Airlines may book you for a 45-50 minute lay-over between flights – or, the really good deals may book you for 6-8 hour lay-overs. The short lay-overs are fine when your next plane departs from a gate in the same terminal; but, for your insider information, AK Airlines flies in and out of the main terminal and the satellite terminal. If your flights are in different terminals, you will run around wildly, find the escalator down, catch the train, de-train, leap onto the escalator up, and locate the gate on that other side. This will give you an adrenalin rush, but really, there is no need to worry if a)your plane does not arrive late, b) there are other AK flights departing for Anchorage, following the one you were booked on —-that have seats available – and Anchorage is your destination and you don’t have to catch another flight — although ERA, out of Anchorage, handles these situations matter-of-factly and you will get on the next available flight —- which, due to heavy tourist volume in the summer – may be at 4:25 am the next morning.

AK Airlines knows that ANC is not everyone’s destination and that the last Frontier encompasses around 570,373.6 square miles. They recognize that some travelers plan to go to FBK, ENA, KOT, GAL, BE or elsewhere. Other airlines can be baffled that there is life outside Anchorage. Where and how would a person fly anywhere else when you can see polar bear roaming the streets of Anchorage, catch salmon outside the Anchorage Hilton, and see Russia from the first story of their B&B?

Another problem with the delusion that Anchorage is the final destination is with baggage. A decade ago, 50% of the time, I discover that my bags had only been booked to Anchorage — where I’d have to find them and drag them to ERA, for my next leg – to Kenai. This process is complicated because unlike the olden days when ERA flew until 1 am, there are now no ERA flights to Kenai after 10:30 pm.

Again, there is no need to work up a sweat like a husky at the end of the Iditarod. First, if you are there in the summer, the sun will be up much of the time and it won’t seem like you’re spending the night in the airport; second, the Chili’s in the main terminal serves breakfast 24-hours a day; and third, you can be first in line for any 4:25 am flights.

Just making reservations is an adventure in itself, not to mention security requirements and lines, the anticipation of unknown flight connections, and the disequilibrium of time-change coupled with arriving in the Land of the Midnight Sun. And that’s just for starters! But, isn’t that why you want to go to Alaska in the first place? For an adventure? Absolutely!

Enjoy!

My Gaede family flying to Alaska in the late ’50s

Connecting airlines to Alaska – late ’50s

When it Comes to Adventure, Age Doesn’t Matter

12 Saturday Jan 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Inspiring Adventures

≈ 2 Comments

Aunt Marianna — minutes before a rain storm.

My favorite aunt just turned 89. Her red curly hair has turned gray; in my mind, it frames her face like a halo. As far as I’ve known, beneath that halo, there’s always been a smile.

Aunt Marianna has brought a smile to my face plenty of times. Take for instance one Thanksgiving when I visited her house. I brought an uncomfortable marrow-deep chill with me and couldn’t get warm. Aunt Marianna poured hot water into a basin and set it on the floor before me. “Here,” she said. “Soak your feet. It seems that when feet are warm, the whole body feels warmer.” It worked. I smiled. I smiled too when she made her typical breakfast of fried rice, a tradition carried on from being a missionary in Japan.

She’s an adventurer. She and her husband back-packed around Europe when they were in their 60s; over fence stiles and into pastures of curd-chewing cows and wooly sheep. Years later, those stories enticed me to do a walking trip through the Cotswalds in England.

She’s an inspiration. From early on, she and my uncle opened their home and lives to international students – and in my adult years I was motivated to do the same.

When I taught a graduate class on aging, I asked who had a role model for growing older. Not a hand went up. Every student, most in their 20s, looked puzzled.. “Older” might have been age 40. Their assignment? Choose a grandparent-age person who they admired, and write about that person.

Now in her late 80s, she regularly reads stories to five classes in a nearby school. Reading isn’t “just reading,” it comes with visuals, items to touch, and conversations. Easy? Aunt Marianna has an inherited hearing loss.

Now in her late 80s, she walks a mile around the college track. Easy? Not with health issues that come with “almost 90.”

Now, in her late 80s, Marianna and her daughter, Sharon, regularly visit female inmates in the county jail who are awaiting trial, and the state prison. In the county jail, they sing along with a CD and have a Bible study.

Easy? No. Some days, at the county jail, mother and daughter are turned away due to a lockdown in the jail.

The prison is worse. “Easy” is not a word found anywhere. The guards don’t assume Marianna is a benign little old lady – dressed neatly in a red brocade kimono top. Who knows? She could be carrying contraband, a crowbar, drugs, a chainsaw, explosives, chocolates. She has to empty her pockets, pull up her pants legs and show the bottoms of her shoeless feet; then, because she cannot go through the metal detector due to her pacemaker, she is “wanded.” She also has to point out her two hearing aids and show a written statement from her doctor for wearing them.

Some days are more worse than others. The prison does not allow visitors to wear hats, hooded jackets, or carry an umbrella. During the Christmas holidays, just before her 89^th birthday, Marianna got drenched in a cold downpour while waiting to go in. Out of sensible concern for herself and her mother, Sharon urged, “Let’s go home, Mom. We can come back another day.” My role model with a dripping halo could have done just that: shed wet clothes for a cozy robe, put her feet up, and sipped a cup of steaming tea; instead, she replied, “We’re already here. I want to see one more woman.” These are not nice women and nice visits. Several women they regularly visit are in for murder. All the same, the stringently searched angels of grace and mercy buy the inmate lunch, read the Bible, pray, and encourage her.

Now in her late 80s, my aunt’s home and kitchen table welcome college students, long-time international friends, and ex-inmates. Much like the father of the Prodigal Son, when she heard an ex-inmate was coming to visit, she set out a festive table with lit candles and brewed hot tea, and greeted her with a warm embrace. The ex-inmate could have repulsed many people. Easy? Not for a judgmental person. But, even though Marianna has a strong moral compass, she isn’t judgmental. When confronted with someone’s hideous and unspeakable crime, she asks, “What would Jesus do?” She manifests the hands and face of Jesus through open arms and the gift of unconditional love and grace.

All the same, she acknowledges that what she does wouldn’t work for everyone.

“My elderly next door neighbor would be horrified if she found out I was entertaining ex-inmates in my home,” she says with a soft chuckle.

Aunt Marianna isn’t climbing Mt. Everest, wrestling alligators, cleaning up a town after a hurricane, saving the whales, or learning to hang-glide, but she’s an adventurer. Her adventures are a prescription of her own. They match her God-given personality, passions, setting, and resources. And, her adventurers are encouraged by a family of cheerleading children, grand-children, great-grandchildren, and a host of other people who call her “mom” and “grandma.”

Age Doesn’t Matter When it Comes to Adventure

Freedom, Emancipation, Homesteads

01 Tuesday Jan 2013

Posted by Naomi Gaede Penner in Gaede-80 Homestead

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“Proving up” the Gaede-80 (acre) Homestead

January 1, 1863, 150 years ago, President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation. We commonly think of this as freeing all the slaves, when it fact, it did not; it was only the beginning.

On that same day, the Homestead Act went into effect. The land was not completely “free,” improvements were necessary: (minimum) living on the land for five years, clearing a percentage of the land, and planting a harvestable crop. Each state had its own challenges. On the prairie lands of Kansas, where my forefathers and mothers moved from the Ukraine, grains could be planted and harvested.

From those wheat fields, my parents moved to Alaska in 1955. In 1962, they got in on the tail-end of the Homestead Act on the Kenai Peninsula. That area was not prairie land; it was a forest of short and tall straggly black spruce with shallow, webbed roots. Clearing this terrain was arduous. My parents spent three winters with ax, chainsaw, and burn piles to clear a half-mile airstrip — for amount required to “prove up” the land. Next came planting a crop. The growing season was too short for many grains planted by homesteaders in other states. My father tried oats and timothy. A nearby homesteader planted potatoes.

Our family still holds the Gaede-80 (acre) homestead, which my father added 33 more acres to later. The airstrip shows up on aviation maps as “Gaede Private.”

Mark Gaede and David Isaak on the “proved up” acreage/Gaede Private airstrip.

Personal freedom, land, and just about anything else we dub as “free” is not really free. Someone has worked for it, fought for it, or paid for it. There are many things we take for granted that someone before made possible. We live in the Land of the Free because of the Brave.

Homestead Act of 1862

Look for the new Emancipation Proclamation stamp – “Shall be FREE.”

Prescription for Adventure

~ by Naomi Gaede Penner

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Follow “Prescription for Adventure”

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