Today I had the rare and pleasurable experience of driving down the Seward highway for no other reason than to see the mountains and listen to music as loud as I desired. I usually travel with kids in the car, so it's a nice break when I can turn up the volume and don't have to have the same conversations over and over again:

"No, we are not going to Fred Meyers. We are going to Costco. Costco! yeah for Costco!"
"Stop kicking my seat. I've asked you three times already to stop kicking my seat. It's hard for me to drive when you kick my seat."
"It's OK Lucas, we are almost home. You're going to make it baby, just hold on a bit more."

I ended up at Beluga Point, one of my favorite writing destinations. I love to sit and watch the tourists face the wind and snap pictures and try to find sheep and whales. Kate Bush was my musical companion as I reviewed last years poems and journal entries. I ended up revising a few lines and working on a short story that I started almost two years ago. Just like me, it's all a work in progress it seems.

The biggest gift of the day was the drive home. Every mountain range in sight was out in full glory. The Talkeetna's could be seen, still snow covered, in the northeast, the Alaska Range held up the southwest skyline with their tall and impenetrable peaks forged up from the sea. Redoubt stood alone with his lopped off top, while Denali and Foraker rose above them all to the north. The Chugach, our local range, stood on my right, looking a little weather beaten, like a well worn shirt, and across Cook Inlet, Susitna, wearing her snow white death shroud, lay serenely against the blue, blue sky.

Just another blessed trip. Alaska is synonymous with home for me; even on the worst day, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.

***Thanks Honey for the time off!****

Walk the Talk

Today I learned that you can buy a nine year old girl as a sex slave for $50 in Haiti. You could just use her as a housekeeper, or for both occupations if you wanted. All you have to do is feed, clothe and shelter her. You do not have to pay her. You do not have to care for her. She is your slave. You own her.

It appalled me to hear this on NPR this morning. According to Benjamin Skinner, slavery is more rampant and less expensive than during the big Euro-American slave trade 200 years ago. I listened to this story and yelled at the radio for a moment, then stormed off in a self-righteous huff down the hall. But what use is that? My anger wont stop slavery unless I take a stand, join some organization that is trying to stop the trading of human lives, and put my money and time where my mouth is. Hmmm. That seems like a lot of work.

Here's the thing: our indignation needs to extend beyond our apathy if we are really going effect a change in our world. We may not reach Haiti, but we might make a difference in our own locale. We have to do more than talk about it though. It was one of my resolutions this year to volunteer my time, not just my money. Today's news was a reminder that I haven't done that yet. I'll keep you posted.

Disclaimer: I have not read this book-but if you are interested here it is:
A Crime So Monstrous: Face-to-Face with Modern-Day Slavery
by Benjamin Skinner
A Google search will give lots of other info on this topic as well.