After several months, Lorelie and I are delighted to continue posting Carole Gibb’s LETTERS FROM ALASKA. In these excerpts from her memoir FISHING FOR COURAGE, Carole writes letters to her sister, Mary, describing her challenging experiences fishing and living in Southeastern Alaska’s outback. Her letters are vivid, honest, and often quite funny! The previous six letters are available in the WRITERS category of the NESTER blog. Her memoir, FISHING FOR COURAGE, is available on AMAZON in both book and ebook formats.
Carole Gibb has taken the buffet approach to work. A scoop of this, a dab of that, with seconds and even thirds on the favorites. Writing work is definitely a favorite. She’s been a staff writer for the Juneau Empire, an editor with Alaska’s state wildlife bureau, and has contributed essays to the public radio program AK. Her articles have also appeared in the Chicago Tribune, Today’s Chicago Woman, and the Washington Post.
Carole has a decision to make, a big decision. Does she stay in her cabin on Lisianski Inlet and live on the “cheap” or does she return to Juneau where living is expensive and take a “real” job?
Carole makes a plan that begins with her and Fidget crossing the inlet with big plans of catching a halibut but settles for two rockfish. After a brief squall that bounces the skiff around and scares her and Fidget, she returns to the cabin to prepare a delicious rockfish dinner. She has a week to make her decision.
Carole knew Mary would laugh when she read her letter. Carole was a nervous, skinny kid who
cried at the least provocation. How could Mary not be amused to hear Carole dreamed up this alternate world, where her awkward, shy self could be the bold adventurer.
Dear Mary,
Here on this Outer Coast people pursue what’s called a subsistence lifestyle. It’s a fancy way of saying they live off wild stuff like fish and deer and berries. (You would too if you saw what little was in the store.)
So today, I just caught my own lunch, and I’m sitting here feeling this satisfied glow inside. A full stomach but more than that somehow.
This day has stirred up an old memory. Do you remember that patch of woods across the street from our house? When I was ten, I dragged an old wood pallet into a mud hole over there, and for an entire summer played like I was Huck Finn. I traveled a river in my mind, overcoming hazards and having adventures.
So, sis, did any particular activity make you happy as a kid? Have you ever noticed some kids get an entranced look on their faces when doing various things? Like drawing, or building with blocks, dressing up dolls, or kicking a ball. It’s interesting, the way we all gravitate toward certain things.
I’m starting to think that even if we let go of our first passions, maybe they never let go of us. I forgot about this girl-child I used to be, playing in the woods. But it’s like she never stopped existing; she just curled up deep inside me and took a long nap. But she’s awake now.
And that special satisfaction I feel today, this weird happiness in me? It’s like I’m being reunited with someone I was once close to.
Okay, enough navel-gazing. The fire’s dying down; I’d better go feed it.
Hugs to everyone.
xxoo
Carole
~~~~~
PS: Oh-oh. Remember that rocking horse we had?
I spent a crazy amount of time on that thing, staring off into space, having cowboy dreams. (Not those kind—they came later.) So does this mean I’m also a cowpoke inside, too?
And all those hours spent bouncing on the pogo stick? What does that signify?
Smiling, Carole closed her notebook, went to stoke the fire, with thoughts of new adventures.
to read Carole Gibb’s previous posT, LETTERS FROM ALASKA 6. click here
