The Passage of Time.

One of my best mates is my City-Cousin, Ryan. Mista Stutzman and I have “come up” together and I miss him dearly. Over the years I’ve learned that my dear cousin is honest and dependable but far from punctual.

About fifteen years ago, he spent a little time on an island as well but Ry-guy’s island was in the Caribbean and not the Arctic. Maybe I’m the crazy one. It’s never been a competition between us to out-do one another, maybe more like - coercion by relation and proximity.

I joined the Marine Corps. He backpacked Europe. He went to the Virgin Islands. I type this from Kivalina, Alaska.  He married a beautiful blonde from the mid-west. I married a different beautiful blonde from the mid-west. As a matter of fact, when they’re together they are often confused as sisters. He and I, brothers? No way, I’m much better looking.

I miss my friend and his Island Ways. You see Ryan was born in April of 1975 destined to one day live amongst villagers that tell time by the rise and fall of the tides. For as long as I have known him, he has lived his life on “Island Time” and his service in St. Croix only solidified his delusions of punctuality. 

“Relax man, it’ll get done.”

I, on the other hand, was always wired to the bell, the ringing of a clock or sound of an alarm. The military woke me with “Reveille” and put me to bed with “Taps” and along the way taught me that “if you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late!”

And now here I am in a world that Ryan Stutzman would excel in. Time is just a suggestion. In Kivalina, Island Time is the law of the land. It is measured by the arrival and departure of daily flight service to and from Kotzebue. The naluagmius regularly show up for work at 8:00 a.m. or earlier. The local’s scheduled workday starts at 8:30 but if they are actually reporting to work for the day, it’s typically more around the turn of the hour or later when they come pouring in. Perhaps responsibility is just a suggestion as well.

I’ve been here a while now. More than 6 months if anyone playing along at “home” is counting. My blood pressure has lowered and my chi has centered because I’ve learned to let go of the things beyond my control. I still awake each morning to the sound of a buzzing alarm but more often than not, I beat it to the punch. The other stuff usually takes care of itself. Things get done.

The Inupiat speak a language of “mights” and “shoulds” – again, only hinting that things may get done and sometimes they “might” not. And I suppose that’s O.K. too.

This week on the Rock I’ve noticed that time can be measure by births and deaths. The young lady that was holding out on a doctor’s physical last September in an attempt to join our volleyball team never got to step foot on the court when she confirmed what some had suspected. She was pregnant. I have been here long enough to hear the rumors become truths and the baby bump go from hidden to paraded. Today the fifteen year old gave birth to an eight-pound baby boy and now that this child has a had a child, I worry that the cycle of early motherhood will become burdensome to another generation of a family with their hands already full. Today I realized time measured in a gestation cycle.

The same extended family experienced death recently.  The eldest of the village elders passed away in Anchorage this week and his body arrived in Kivalina today to be prepared for burial. At 83 years old, I knew the gentleman and could recognize him in passing. I did not know he was ill. Thankfully, 83 years is a long Earthly gift. His family mourns his passing as the village prepares to bury one of their own.

This afternoon while walking, I braced against the East arctic wind. Blowing snow created drifts that the airport crew had not been able to get to yet. As I approached the graveyard and the usual turnaround point, I noticed the stark contrast of the exposed black dirt of a freshly dug grave against the backdrop of whites, grays and blues where the mountains, oceans and skies all meet. The funeral will be this weekend, the third since my arrival in July. Today I realized time measure in a life cycle.

Tomorrow, the last working day of the month, is payday and will put us officially in the books for 2016. I leave most of the finances to my lovely wife back home in Minnesota. I don’t need much; just need enough for a little treat at store every once in awhile. It makes me feel good to be able to provide some financial security for my wife and kids. The wage I’m earning in Alaska has allowed Michele and the kids to operate with less concern and for that I am proud.

While discussing tomorrow’s payday with my roommate, he realized that after this check we have but 3 left in the school year. The end of the month can only be looked forward to just three more times before I pack my bags and rotate back. That was a good feeling to share.

Sunrise and sunset.

Caribou migration or the salmon run.

Time is a suggestion.

It’s data.

A figure.

And remember, figures lie and liars figure.

“Relax man, it’ll all get done.”