A journalist observes life in the far north.
My childhood friend, Ginger, is visiting from Anchorage. She hopped a plane to Fairbanks with her husband and two boys. The visit isn’t exactly a surprise because she called first but it feels like one because it was unexpected and very welcome.
We shared a meal last night at Ivory Jacks. Alec and Charles, her husband, finally met. Later, Charles made a toast to my and Alec’s engagement. Charles and Ginger brought a bottle of champagne to the house. Their boys played outside with a sledgehammer and a pile of scrap stone while the grownups, plus a little blonde baby girl, sat inside talking.
It was a rare social evening at our house. I say rare because we don’t get many visitors way up here.
The Levines, as Charles and Ginger are called, are pondering whether to go camping in Valdez with us this weekend. The picture shows the family leaving in my old Nissan Sentra, the Bottle Washing Fairy’s car when she is in town. I loved watching Charles drive off in that jalopy with his family because I was driving that car when we first met a few years ago and he teased me about it. It’s a 1990.
I must leave now to have coffee with Ginger at her hotel on Fort Wainwright.