My recent post, "One Way to Stay Warm," about the poem The Cremation of Sam McGee, got an entertaining reply from a regular reader in Alaska. (Yes, Alaska. Buster's Blog gets around.) Here it is, shared with permission. Thanks, Patty!
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Well, there's a memory from the distant past . . . the poem about Sam McGee. So now I get to tell you a story.
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| Typical ALCAN "motel"of the time |
In 1969, my husband and I had braved the then-unpaved ALCAN highway from Rochester, NY to Alaska in the fall (really winter), no less in an Opal Kadet. Our first night was spent in Tok, Alaska (yup, Tok) in grand accommodations that looked like trailers hooked together to form a "motel."
Fortunately there was a bar-restaurant next door and a bartender who hailed from Buffalo, NY. Well, he found out that I was a nurse and confided that he was having a hemorrhoidectomy the next day, so I was his best friend. To top that off, we were from the city next door to Buffalo, NY. We didn't pay for a drink the whole night. (We were young then.)
As everybody became more fuzzy, out came the poetry book which we all took turns reading . . . Sam McGee, of course. What else would one read in such a situation?
When my turn came, I read my part until a grizzled old fellow came into my sight. First his rifle muzzle, then the old coot himself made a full appearance. Well, being a girl from NY, I nearly lost some bodily fluid, but didn't. Someone took the gun away and gave him a drink. For my part, after my pulse went down, I reassured the bartender regarding his imminent surgery.
That was my introduction to the poem about Sam McGee, and my very first night in Alaska.
Thanks for the memory cue.
Patty
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