My initial reaction

Am I missing something?

Chastised or judged?

Do we have to be thankful?

Choose to sacrifice

How and why?

Example:

The point

The purpose and intent

Gain

Loss

My broken heart

Exiled

I travelled by bush plane from Bethel to the orphanage. The pilot was friendly, even after I made fun of his last name. Not so funny though, I didn’t know it was him I had made fun of until he introduced himself. I was alone, hurting, and embarrassed, and wished myself under a rock.

God was always in it

The bull by the horns

The other kids were broken, just as I was. They were still able to laugh and play, and, “So would I,” I told myself.

Teased for my Bostonian accent, even my speech separated me from everyone. Because I had to learn from scratch the many things at which the other girls excelled, I felt ostracized. They other girls teased me and called me “baby” in their native language. However, I wouldn’t cry or give anyone the satisfaction I felt the other girls were looking for.

Rewards

Your choice?

The science of being thankful

Biblical truth

The benefits of thankfulness

Anticipation

So Close, Yet So Far

Reality Strikes

Belonging

Into the Woods

“No! You gottta run, you’re too heavy!” he shouted back to me.

At that time in my life I was still a skinny little runt, but I was strong. I had to be strong to carry 5 gallon cans of water balanced on a wooden yoke across my shoulders, from the creek to our home. My strength came from doing hard chores, like when I cut and chopped wood. I worked and played hard. It was a good way of life. Simple, honest, and busy. I did my part in helping. I felt all those sentiments as my heart protested, as my tears froze on my face. So, to prove myself, I kept running.

Arrival

Ray and I got to work quickly and felled a few trees. I got busy with the hatchet and chopped off the small branches, then helped him saw more trees. It was hard work, but it was fun. Time passes quickly when you’re having fun. Right?

Soon it was dark, and getting darker and colder as the sun threatened to dip below the icy horizon of Norton Sound. We lit the lantern. The moon was climbing in the sky and soon reached the tree tops. I looked around at shadows cast from the trees blocking the lantern’s light. There was only darkness. Thank goodness there were no glowing eyes staring back from the reflection of lantern light.

When Ray decided we had enough trees to fill the sled, we packed the tools, and began to load the trees, larger ones first. The moon had escaped from the tree tops and now took its place among the stars by the time we had finished loading and securing the logs. Occasionally an errant cloud covered the face of the “man in the moon”, and full darkness engulfed us for what seemed like an eternity.

Mercy Reigns and Covers the Lowly

“I’m tired, Ray. Can I ride now? Just for awhile?” I tried not to whine, but Im sure I wasn’t successful.

“No! You’re too heavy. You gotta run.”

So I ran, then I slowed, ran again and slowed again. Discouraged, with head down, I kept going. I didn’t want to be left behind. That was the hardest day I had ever worked, and harder than any day I had ever played. Breathing hard as I raced through the deep snow, I was determined not to cry, determined that I would be stronger than my brother could be uncaring.

I looked up and saw a glimmer of light far away.

“Who is that?” I asked. Hope surged within me. I didn’t know how long we’d been gone, but it had been dark for a very long time. The moon was high in the sky and had shifted position. It was very late. Was some brave soul coming to find us? I prayed so.

As we got closer I could see it was someone large. Someone wearing big, bulky clothes. I could tell they must be wearing snowshoes from the way they trudged in the snow, throwing their weight forward with each difficult step.

“Soolook! Soolook!” As we got closer, thinking I recognized the determined snowshoer, I kept calling his name, “Soolook, Soolook!”

Fatigue and discouragement forgotten, I ran with open arms to my rescuer. I knew Soolook loved me, and it saved my heart from breaking in that moment, because I was sure my brother didn’t. I felt safer and cared for, and after my hard day, I needed that. Just as I reached my rescuer, I stopped and stared in disbelief as the snowshoer threw back the furry hood of their parkie.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ray commanded the dog team and they came to a frenzied , barking stop.

Where had she come from? Surely God had played a trick and this was an angelic visitation. We believed in those kinds of things. But an angel with a gun and a flashlight? And snowshoes? I closed my eyes, barely daring to breathe and open them again, for fear this wonderful apparition would dissolve before my tear-brimmed eyes.

“Mommy?” I whispered. “Mommy? Mommy! “ And there she was, not Soolook, but my mommy. She was dressed in Papa’s parkie, a rifle slung over her shoulder, carrying a flashlight, and trudging her way in snowshoes, into the dark of night, into the frozen forest, alone, to find me. I threw my arms around her and willed myself to meld into her very being! I know she loved my brother too, but at that moment, she was mine, all mine. In that moment, she taught me what it meant to love fiercely. I shall always remember that.

So, I Thought You Were an Eskimo

And so I am. I’m fortunate and proud, to represent more than one beautiful ethnic group. From my mother I am Inupiat, Swede, and Northern California Indian-I don’t know from which tribe. I’ve also been told I’m part White Russian. It’s exciting to think of the history that had to occur to bring all these cultures together!

My father, with his sweet little English boy haircut, is the loving product of his British mother from London, England, and English/Tamil Indian father, from Sri Lanka. As an adolescent, I lived with my paternal grandmother in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and learned to eat and appreciate Indian food.

I use curry as a secret ingredient in some of my American recipes. It not only adds great flavor, but the aroma brings back so many loving memories and peaceful comforts for my soul. Some connected memories from my past help me to relive the beautiful moments of my life. Those moments soothe like a healing salve, and allow me to move forward.

You also, are able to take advantage of the good in your past, to enrich your present.

Soni’s Best Curry With Shrimp & Noodles

Saute’ :

2-3 Tbs chopped bacon until it makes some of its own oil
Add 3 Tbs chopped yellow onion and 1 tsp freshly minced garlic

Add 1-2 Tbs butter if saute’ is a little dry-I like and use Organic products as much as possible

Add to saute’: 1 can Coconut milk

1 C heavy whipping cream

2 C whole milk-save out about 1/2c

4 generous Tbs flour mixed with 1/2 C of the milk and stir almost continuously so milk doesn’t burn

Add 1/2 tsp ground Ginger

Add1/2 tsp Coriander

1/4 tsp ground Tumeric

1/4 to 1/2 tsp Cumin- to taste

1-2 tsp Curry and stir in–taste frequently to see how your flavors are combining

Add 2 tsp chicken Broth paste- I use Better than Boullion chicken broth

I added the shrimp (24 shrimp medium to large) in the beginning, but it should be added last. It will become too tough if cooked too long. Keep it tender.

Add 16 oz. cooked noodles to sauce and enjoy!

I remember the summer when I was fourteen. I commercial fished by set-net site, with my mom and her husband, in Egegik, Bristol Bay, Alaska. Mom was a great and spontaneous cook. From her example, I learned how to create my own recipe for my wild Alaska baked salmon.

My papa flew with me from Nome to Egegik to deliver me safely to mom. Maybe to set her up with his set-net site too.

Sometimes it was scary

In a truly adventurous style, we lived across the river from Egegik in an old abandoned scow that was anchored. It was tethered to the bluff above the beach by thick, but rusty old cables. Sometimes it was a bit scary to hear waves crashing so closely to the old fish tender.

On a stormy night, I prayed from under my tightly drawn up blankets, that the cables would remain secure. Blue skies and a bright sun in the morning always renewed my faith that I could do this! When the tide was right, we packed water and a snack into our 20 ft. skiff. Filled with hope, we headed out to pick a net full of fish.

It was a challenge some days. When the boat was full, or the nets were picked clean, we’d head to the waiting tender to sell the fish. My papa flew with me from Nome to Egegik to deliver me safely to mom. Maybe to set her up with his set-net site too.

Here’s my recipe for Wild Alaska Baked Salmon:

In a small bowl mix well:

2 Tbs melted organic butter
5Tbs mayonnaise  ( I use Best Foods)
1/2 tsp onion powder
1/4 tsp black pepper
3/4 tsp curry powder
1/2 tsp Salmon seasoning
1/2 tsp True Lemon crystallized lemon
1/8 tsp dill weed

Smear whole amount over entire fillet, thicker amount over thicker part of body.
Bake at  375 degrees for 35-40 minutes.
It will be done when flakey, but Not Dry.

If desired, you can place under broiler to brown the sauce slightly, but watch closely not to burn or over dry the meat.

SUGGESTION:
Place on platter garnished with greens, boiled parslied potatoes, and Normandy vegetables.

Words On Tap Alaska is a place of friendly conversation and a meeting place for hearts and minds. When you read my blogs and stories, you are free to ask questions and make comments. I only ask you to remember that, “out of the heart, the mouth speaks,” and we need to do our best to speak in love and respect.

There is a lot of teaching these days on getting to the root cause of our difficulties and shortcomings, especially in our relations with particular people. Many issues we face today were developed years and decades ago. Some of us have been fortunate enough to have had support in ferreting out the root causes of our issues. Some of us have issues we have learned to creatively cope with, and move through, in a forward and positive manner on our own. Or so we think. However, if we search for truth, we would find that there has always been a positive force at work in our lives, whether or not we were able to recognize it, or chose not to acknowledge it.

Some traumatic experiences in our lives can trigger deep emotional feelings we are not yet equipped to handle. In telling stories, we can shape the details to better enable our acceptance and tolerance level of these feelings. As ordinary humans it gives us a “breathing space” so to speak, before we have to engage reality head on. I have stories about my father from my relatives who knew and loved him, and stories from his mother who adored him. These stories helped me to co-write a screenplay where I inserted myself in my father’s story. In reality, he died in a plane crash, less than ten miles from home. He had been flying supplies from village to village. I was only nine months old. I never got to say good-bye. I didn’t get to know him, his laugh, his smile, or to hear him discipline me in love, as I’m sure that was the only way he would have. In the screenplay version, I had many more years with him. We had a close and loving relationship and I was even able to protest his death.

With the help of circumstances, the support of others, and mostly God’s grace, I am able to see the benefits of acknowledging my losses without allowing the pain of them to hold me back. There are choices to be made every day. I choose to look up and put my hand in the hand of the one who knew me, before I was conceived. Almighty God. I believe God has given me the gift of storytelling for His purposes. I would be remiss if I didn’t bless others where I am led to bless. My desire is to leave a positive impact through my stories, that He has placed on my heart.

Family connections were integral to the traditional culture I was raised in. This story of best friends, Annie and Ted, and their daily adventures, are from simple, happy memories that have filled my heart with love and respect for my people.

My people are a gentle and compassionate people. They love to laugh and tell stories. They love and respect our land, our elders, and our children. They love to socialize. Gathering at the Alaska Native hospital on a Sunday afternoon to sing worship songs while someone plays their guitar, or to drum and dance in celebration of our history, is not an unusual event. Many assemble in the hospital lobby to reunite and visit with relatives and friends from the villages across Alaska, or just from across town, after visiting someone in the hospital. Jokes, laughter, condolences and shared burdens with hugs and kisses attest to the compassionate hearts of my people. They like to snuggle babies, and share memories. They aren’t afraid of being referred to as the “old folks”. They were once an innocent people. It brings me happiness to share this remembered innocence with my children and the world. I believe those who read my story will be able to join in that simple happiness.

These adventures reflect the real life experiences from my own childhood. The moms and dads, grammas and grampas who read my story will be able to identify in their own lives, the value of their own similar memories. My memories have borne me through hard times and given me a hope and faith that, “all is not lost”, that it is possible to move past adversity and remain whole. I believe those who read my book, BETTER THAN NICE!, will be able to identify with, and find solace, in the positive outlook of this story.

It is sometimes hard to see the “rainbow” or “silver lining” in our lives, and this book will provide a ray of sunshine to readers everywhere.