Alaska and Life

Life in Alaska is a serious kick in the butt, my wife and I never know how to anticipate or prepare for the wide variety of experiences encountered here on a day to day basis. Although we don’t suffer from the overcrowding, traffic jams, road rage, driveby’s or turf wars that are so common place in the lower 48, you know~that area below our southern border region; we do have unique situations that keep life in this frontier playground a carnival ride.

Here, should we get mad at someone, such as a sloppily dressed or nude public nuisance, policeman, politician or worst, a tourist-we go knock on their door and ring their chimes. That knowledge tends to keep us all honest and to deal fairly with one another; well, it never hurts to bear in mind that most Alaskans have access to firearms and lack the genetics that restrain most folks from using them . . . this sidebar has nothing to do with the tidbit I plan to share with you, but it makes good filler and I don’t care to be predictable.

This morning, I fell out of bed at the crack of 10am attempting to throw my soul piercing alarm clock through the wall and well, it’s just wrong to have to face that sort of an ordeal without a caffeine buffer. Indignant and thirsting for coffee, this Alaskan guy ignored the outbreak of shrieking laughter from his wide awake spouse and stumbled towards the general area of the kitchen.

But this sleepyhead was not able to do so without stepping on three out of the five very agitated feline family members while making that wall bumping, bone jarring journey to the much sought after coffee oasis. Mumbling something clever, like, “what’s up with them?” I continued on my mission. This day was not starting out well. Why is Tisha laughing like a maniac? No matter . . . “I, must, find coffee,” I said to myself mentally (using my best Capt. J.T. Kirk’s voice . . of course).

At the entry into the kitchen and my hoped for coffee salvation, a vague quick glimpse of something large and intangible caught my eye, “. . . what the hell? Forget the coffee, what is that?” Had I really seen a large dark mass on my porch through my entry door window? A bear maybe?

Leaning against the sink and peering out the kitchen window was the confirmation . . . I really had seen something large and dark.

Crap, it is a bear and hey . . . what is it doing to my garbage can . . . that looks obscene. Nonplussed, I watched that damn bear have its way with my trash bins; totally ignoring my window banging, cursing and yelling my sleep addled head off.

Finding a treasure, that bear drug a garbage bag out into the yard and began plundering it; on the way, it walked through my supposedly stout wooden porch gate as though it weren’t there. That is when I noticed that my gate was in splinters. Later I learned that Tisha had watched the bear walking onto the porch, through the latched gate, when it first arrived and had cracked up-this was the third time this summer. She was pretty darn sure that the cats and I would be mildly upset. Trust me, we were.

During the warm weather season, I keep my garage door open just enough to allow the cat’s quick entry into the house, for our mutual peace of mind. They hate the idea of being eaten and I hate the idea of having to clean up the mess. So, the door is usually open to tabby height. A fact not lost on them . . . at all.

So, there we were, at the garage door; cats with their bottoms in the air and their heads low peering out at the bear from underneath and me on my tiptoes looking out one of the window panels while that bear slung garbage around the yard and generally tap danced all up and down our collective pride. So, this is why Tisha woke me up laughing, she knew. She knew this was gonna be one of those days and we didn’t let her down.

The boys and I will be sleeping under the bed for a couple of nights, peeking out from the safety of our cat cave at every strange noise until we have regained our composure; and Tisha stops laughing at us.

Darn, I still haven’t had my coffee . . .

tlcorbin© all rights reserved

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Tags: alaska, alaska living, alaskan tall tales, humor

the Stuff Shaping My Views

I am older than dirt, happily married, a gene pool contributer and parent, an inactive Marine, an artist in several mediums, an avid outdoors man, a writer of sorts and semi educated. Although effectively retired, I am an NCCER Master Trainer and teach vocational crafts and life skills. I am a man of faith, pro life, pro guns, pro education, anti organized religion, pro gold dredging and possessed by 5 cats, Medford, Wasilla, Luke aka Rear View, Guy, Ebony; all with litter boxes and various accessories.

Organized religion and I are at odds with each other, having been exorcised several times as an adult; what’s with these folks slinging holy water around, casting out the demons that torment them from me and then going home to pound on their family? They should learn to unlax a little for sure.

I hate war and conflict but stay ready for either, as a child I was cute, trusting and abused by an confused girl learning to be a woman, she lost custody of us (my siblings and me) and we wound up in a foster home where hormonally crazed young boys experimented with their sexuality on the youngest among them and I learned to fight like a machine protecting my siblings. Later, mom married a bi-sexual pedophile and our lives sunk further into the abyss, when I tried to kill her man she took the hint. You’d think the hell of beatings, cuts and bruises would break a young spirit, but it didn’t, my siblings and I learned to apply the balm of humor to ease any pain and fear. It served us well.

As I look around, I view a world that to me is adrift and searching for an anchor; but a faithless lot have only their own baseless visions to guide them, me, god found me and established the roots of faith within me. Peace has come at long last, but still, there are questions remaining to be answered; just what the hell good is free will? When everyone has it and anarchy prevails? That’s when a belief in something greater than self has kept me from the bell tower with a rifle. Still, I am angry at the gay communities mindset and whining ~ there’s nothing gay about them. They make great Spartans, but that ran it’s course long ago.

I don’t understand asexuality or homosexual behavior, both are abhorrent to me; I don’t get it. Nor can I endorse homosexual couples adopting children other than their own. Oddly, it’s fixed in my head that homosexual behavior is the result of an overcrowded environment, single mothers and feckless upbringing. Marriage is a union between a man and a woman; civil unions can be any combination that the heart desires. Civil rights are guaranteed, and because someone is gay, their rights shouldn’t be superior to those of non gays. From my life experiences, they are predictably predatory-but then so are straight pedophiles, that’s why neither group should be allowed to adopt children at a malleable age.

Interestingly enough, I have mused over this issue: what would have happened, had I met my spouse (who I consider to be my best friend and soul mate) and we were the same gender thanks to a quirk of reincarnation and we recognized each other? The issue of acting on homosexual urges is one that can get pretty heated, but for me it is simple; I could love the person, but would likely remain celibate under the moral standard I grew up under. But what if . . .???

So, yup I have issues.

Career politicians should be outed, ousted and strict term limits should be enforced. Eight years of aggregate political service and you’re outta here pal should be the rule of the land; oh, right . . . it was, until self serving politicians exempted themselves from those laws. Never trust a man that paid out a million dollars to get a job that pays a hundred thousand; there’s mischief afoot in that scenereo. I don’t consider lawyers and politicians as normal, as truthful, honest or moral: they will all set those traits aside for their own convenience, benefit and net gain. So, from my angst filled perspective, those folks are synonymous with thief, swindler, liar, crook or the morally bankrupt.

Asked whether or not there are those that I consider to be heros worthy of being role models, I’d have to answer, “yeah . . . sure.” It’s the loving couple that quietly give up their dreams to help their children realize theirs. But I live in a fantasy world where right is right and wrong isn’t right; where men and women marry, have families and stay together to raise their offspring up without gender identification issues. In light of the anti family and anti faith PC anarchists, my final answer: My heroes would be that first couple that looked around the garden of Eden and declared to god, “This is nice, but . . . we’re outta here and we’re taking the kids.”

tlcorbin

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Tags: alaska, alaska living, alaskan men, alaskan tall tales, alaskan worldview, humor