Jul 30 2009
Alaskan Women
When those sophisticates in California and parts back east look into the mirror to view their mental image of high chic, what is it that they are viewing besides a rail thin wraith in designer clothes, mustache, attitude and padded everything? Many of those elitist fashionistas are highly educated, sexually frustrated, shells of womankind that seek to find a purposeful life via serial affairs, political alliances, mate choices, careers as dry as their wombs, snobbery and for what? Money, status, the facade of power . . . what is the payoff?
Do they have time (spare or otherwise) set aside for their families to cook for them, play scrabble, old maid, donkey kong, or to walk in the park with them? When was the last time they wrestled playfully with their children, spouses or weren’t bound to a fixed sexual routine and schedule? Can they still relish a lunch of hotdogs, pretzels n beer along with the company of rowdy friends who act the fool? When did being refined mandate locking the doors to conceal a real and hearty guffaw over an unsolicited fart? Why is having faith in anything other than yourself or worshiping at any alter other than a mirror unacceptable? What a sad existence.
When Sarah Palin landed center stage in the political arena, these very same mavens of chic decided that a mother, wife and politician that actually like her married life and career was an oddity to be scorned and ridiculed. Collectively, they went after her like starving puppies to a teat; they were ravenous in their appetite to savage her character, her gender and her family. Sarah is an educated, very down to earth, approachable and pragmatic woman that looks great in a skirt and heels or Carhart’s and boots; she hunts, fishes and shoots, looks and is very much the lady in public and is likely a tramp in bed (five kids stand as testimony to that likely fact). In short she’s a man’s woman, who loves being a woman, mother, wife and politician. She can shoot a moose, skin and butcher it and serve it to family, friends and the state legislature while discharging her duties as governor, wife, and mother; now that’s multitasking.
When my brothers first learned that I lived in Alaska, they mockingly queried my sanity and asked if I were dating any fur bearing Alaskan ladies. The jerks, of course I was. We all (Alaskans) spend the winters dating partners we hope will be able to doff their fur coats in the spring. Men and women in Alaska enjoy a relationship that the suave chic will never allow themselves to appreciate, we actually value and need each other, and are actually made stronger by our unions. The family unit is precious to us and not viewed as an inconvenience. We irritate, frustrate and fuss with one another while never loosing sight of the gifts each contributes to our relationship. We speak truthfully to one another, then get drunk and forget what was said. In a region of the country that possesses ten percent of the nations fire arms, it really doesn’t pay to get crazy with a spouse of either gender. Surviving relationships is an art form for us. And most guys realize that up here at heavens gate, even if divorced you never really lose your mate, only your place in line.
My wife is a typical Alaskan Thai woman, she fishes and hikes my butt off; crikey, she’s like a gazelle going up the face of the local mountains and I get passed up by old folks in walkers. She’s the quinticential business woman, she designs and assembles fashionable clothing, cooks disgustingly healthy meals and travels with me to remote villages to conduct workshops. She laughs at my jokes, lets me rub her feet when she’s stressed and talks constantly about things that make me smile. She sorts out the occassional tiff among our feline buddies and soothes my ruffled feathers when I am unable to cope with stress and does so with a touch. She makes my life so much more fun and worth living than it would be without her and knows it. She’s valued and empowered by being who she is . . . how chic is that?
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