unedited from my teenaged self: 5/4/1995

Living in the Yukon has provided me with some very interesting stories, for no one else experiences life as us.

Achitecturally we are very advanced with our three-story igloos, but we have no electricity, and we still have outhouses. We take our snowmobiles, or dog sleds, to school each day. I remember one day my dogs got sick, and the snowmobile wouldn’t start. The mechanic — who is also the vet, among other things — had been renovating his igloo that previous weekend and while cutting the ice, he fell in. We had to wait until the one week of spring thaw for him to shed his block of ice and serve the community. Every weekend we go out to the river and harpoon fish, and every second Saturday we hike up into the mountains and skin cariboo with our teeth; and although it’s illegal, we eat walrus blubber for candy.

The mosquitos (the season for which goes from May to October) are large enough to carry me away; one of them did one time. I got a free flight to Anchorage, Alaska, without bathrooms, in-flight service, and cabin pressurization.

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