| General Non-Fiction posted June 25, 2020 | Chapters: |
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Visiting family in Fairbanks
A chapter in the book Attack of the Fifty States
Attack of the 50 States: Alaska
by Bill Schott
It was the beginning of the Reagan Administration and the end of my second hitch in the Marines. I was a bit burned out with my position as a recruiter for the Corps in Detroit, Michigan. I couldn't bring myself to re-enlist for another three years of selling the USMC to teenagers, so I took my option and left the military to seek my fortune in Alaska.
My second sister, Muriel, and her second husband had moved to Fairbanks in the early 70s. My older brother, Albert, joined them soon after, though they lived in separate towns.
Muriel's husband had started out driving a dynamite truck on the Northern Ridge for about six months. The work was dangerous and required he be away from home for weeks at a time. The separation and the darkness of the midnight sun season had its effects on both my sister and Alan's morale and mental stability.
She had invited me up since there was talk that the pipeline was adding a gas line and a thousand new jobs would be created. By the time I had gotten there, however, the situation had changed. The President announced that we were in a recession and soon after the economy tanked. Alan's friend let him stack shelves in his store to make ends meet.
My brother lived in the town of North Pole. Yeah, I know. He also lived on Sesame Street, so most times when I told folks that they didn't believe I actually had a brother. He was recession proof, as he was the only transmission mechanic in North Pole and also drew work from Fairbanks. He was rolling in dough, but no one would ever guess it. Albert was both a hermit and, well, fiscally conservative. He lived in a thirty-foot trailer that had six inches of polyethylene foam covering it for insulation. He could heat the place with one space heater. His refrigerator was a root cellar and he managed the mobile home park he lived in, rent free.
I was now in Alaska with no job and no apparent prospects. Staying with my siblings was a temporary situation, but I needed to get work and support myself. I had two or three qualifications that might serve me with luck on my side.
I had just come off a recruiting gig and had been trained to convince high school graduates with scholarships and money to enlist in the United States Marine Corps instead. Having done that for a couple years, I figured I could sell a car to an Alaskan. There were three dealerships around, but they weren't hiring and I hadn't brought a wardrobe that was car sales appropriate.
I actually found an ad in the paper for a ballistic meteorologist at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. What? This was my original job in the Corps. I drove over for a personal interview. None of us could believe that this job and I were here at the same time. I mean, not just a meteorologist, but a ballistic meteorologist whose specialty was missiles flying through the air.
The university had planned to launch rockets into the heavens to recreate the Northern Lights artificially, as a study of which gases were present. Sadly, however, with the recession, their funding was delayed and would be doubtful before the next calendar year.
I was turning into Benjamin Franklin's three-day guest. I'd been there almost three weeks and had driven my sister to drink (though I think she already knew the way) and had somehow given my brother's wife the impression that I was flirting with her.
I summoned all my rainy day resources and flew back to Michigan as soon as possible. There I tried working in a plastics factory for a few months, but making bathtubs and toilets for mobile homes was not that fulfilling. Nothing was. Nothing was the Marine Corps. What could be? I eventually re-enlisted in the Marines and stayed another sixteen years until retirement.
My brother remained in Alaska and passed away there, having returned to Michigan only four times in fifty years.
Muriel is still there. She lives alone since her husband's passing, and has never set foot out of the state except to attend our parent's funerals.
I vowed to never return, but my wife and I took a cruise there a couple of years ago. Totally different experience.
It was the beginning of the Reagan Administration and the end of my second hitch in the Marines. I was a bit burned out with my position as a recruiter for the Corps in Detroit, Michigan. I couldn't bring myself to re-enlist for another three years of selling the USMC to teenagers, so I took my option and left the military to seek my fortune in Alaska.
My second sister, Muriel, and her second husband had moved to Fairbanks in the early 70s. My older brother, Albert, joined them soon after, though they lived in separate towns.
Muriel's husband had started out driving a dynamite truck on the Northern Ridge for about six months. The work was dangerous and required he be away from home for weeks at a time. The separation and the darkness of the midnight sun season had its effects on both my sister and Alan's morale and mental stability.
She had invited me up since there was talk that the pipeline was adding a gas line and a thousand new jobs would be created. By the time I had gotten there, however, the situation had changed. The President announced that we were in a recession and soon after the economy tanked. Alan's friend let him stack shelves in his store to make ends meet.
My brother lived in the town of North Pole. Yeah, I know. He also lived on Sesame Street, so most times when I told folks that they didn't believe I actually had a brother. He was recession proof, as he was the only transmission mechanic in North Pole and also drew work from Fairbanks. He was rolling in dough, but no one would ever guess it. Albert was both a hermit and, well, fiscally conservative. He lived in a thirty-foot trailer that had six inches of polyethylene foam covering it for insulation. He could heat the place with one space heater. His refrigerator was a root cellar and he managed the mobile home park he lived in, rent free.
I was now in Alaska with no job and no apparent prospects. Staying with my siblings was a temporary situation, but I needed to get work and support myself. I had two or three qualifications that might serve me with luck on my side.
I had just come off a recruiting gig and had been trained to convince high school graduates with scholarships and money to enlist in the United States Marine Corps instead. Having done that for a couple years, I figured I could sell a car to an Alaskan. There were three dealerships around, but they weren't hiring and I hadn't brought a wardrobe that was car sales appropriate.
I actually found an ad in the paper for a ballistic meteorologist at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. What? This was my original job in the Corps. I drove over for a personal interview. None of us could believe that this job and I were here at the same time. I mean, not just a meteorologist, but a ballistic meteorologist whose specialty was missiles flying through the air.
The university had planned to launch rockets into the heavens to recreate the Northern Lights artificially, as a study of which gases were present. Sadly, however, with the recession, their funding was delayed and would be doubtful before the next calendar year.
I was turning into Benjamin Franklin's three-day guest. I'd been there almost three weeks and had driven my sister to drink (though I think she already knew the way) and had somehow given my brother's wife the impression that I was flirting with her.
I summoned all my rainy day resources and flew back to Michigan as soon as possible. There I tried working in a plastics factory for a few months, but making bathtubs and toilets for mobile homes was not that fulfilling. Nothing was. Nothing was the Marine Corps. What could be? I eventually re-enlisted in the Marines and stayed another sixteen years until retirement.
My brother remained in Alaska and passed away there, having returned to Michigan only four times in fifty years.
Muriel is still there. She lives alone since her husband's passing, and has never set foot out of the state except to attend our parent's funerals.
I vowed to never return, but my wife and I took a cruise there a couple of years ago. Totally different experience.
My second sister, Muriel, and her second husband had moved to Fairbanks in the early 70s. My older brother, Albert, joined them soon after, though they lived in separate towns.
Muriel's husband had started out driving a dynamite truck on the Northern Ridge for about six months. The work was dangerous and required he be away from home for weeks at a time. The separation and the darkness of the midnight sun season had its effects on both my sister and Alan's morale and mental stability.
She had invited me up since there was talk that the pipeline was adding a gas line and a thousand new jobs would be created. By the time I had gotten there, however, the situation had changed. The President announced that we were in a recession and soon after the economy tanked. Alan's friend let him stack shelves in his store to make ends meet.
My brother lived in the town of North Pole. Yeah, I know. He also lived on Sesame Street, so most times when I told folks that they didn't believe I actually had a brother. He was recession proof, as he was the only transmission mechanic in North Pole and also drew work from Fairbanks. He was rolling in dough, but no one would ever guess it. Albert was both a hermit and, well, fiscally conservative. He lived in a thirty-foot trailer that had six inches of polyethylene foam covering it for insulation. He could heat the place with one space heater. His refrigerator was a root cellar and he managed the mobile home park he lived in, rent free.
I was now in Alaska with no job and no apparent prospects. Staying with my siblings was a temporary situation, but I needed to get work and support myself. I had two or three qualifications that might serve me with luck on my side.
I had just come off a recruiting gig and had been trained to convince high school graduates with scholarships and money to enlist in the United States Marine Corps instead. Having done that for a couple years, I figured I could sell a car to an Alaskan. There were three dealerships around, but they weren't hiring and I hadn't brought a wardrobe that was car sales appropriate.
I actually found an ad in the paper for a ballistic meteorologist at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. What? This was my original job in the Corps. I drove over for a personal interview. None of us could believe that this job and I were here at the same time. I mean, not just a meteorologist, but a ballistic meteorologist whose specialty was missiles flying through the air.
The university had planned to launch rockets into the heavens to recreate the Northern Lights artificially, as a study of which gases were present. Sadly, however, with the recession, their funding was delayed and would be doubtful before the next calendar year.
I was turning into Benjamin Franklin's three-day guest. I'd been there almost three weeks and had driven my sister to drink (though I think she already knew the way) and had somehow given my brother's wife the impression that I was flirting with her.
I summoned all my rainy day resources and flew back to Michigan as soon as possible. There I tried working in a plastics factory for a few months, but making bathtubs and toilets for mobile homes was not that fulfilling. Nothing was. Nothing was the Marine Corps. What could be? I eventually re-enlisted in the Marines and stayed another sixteen years until retirement.
My brother remained in Alaska and passed away there, having returned to Michigan only four times in fifty years.
Muriel is still there. She lives alone since her husband's passing, and has never set foot out of the state except to attend our parent's funerals.
I vowed to never return, but my wife and I took a cruise there a couple of years ago. Totally different experience.
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