Sitka Sound is the large body of water that defines the the shores and islands of the City and Borough of Sitka and reaches out to the ocean beyond. But that’s not the sound the title refers to. Nor am I referring to Sitka’s many and varied sounds, the wonderful ravens who entertain me daily with such crazy noises, mimicking dogs, and cats and other birds, even emitting a gravelly “caw” once in a while. Neither am I referring to the whining sound of seaplanes taking off from the harbor close by nor to the city’s daily, four-note announcement that it’s noon time, a series of notes which I, for some reason, can’t seem to remember as I try to imitate the tune.
What I am referring to is the sound that has to do with solidity, something foundational, like the “family” I experience every time I visit Sitka. It starts with the Skeele/Caffrey clan, my son, John, and Beth, joining forces and producing two such remarkable children who have opted to stay in Sitka, growing up on the decks of fishing boats and now taking their own place within the fishing community both promoting its growth (Sitka Salmon Shares has put out some remarkable film footage showing the Skeeles at work) and providing services. Then, too, the Skeele/Caffrey crew manages to rally every time when I’m around, John, Beth, Marsh and Nora, all pitching in to cook dinner most every evening, always fresh salads and often fish just off the boat. The other part of the soundness I feel and see (and deeply appreciate) when I visit, is the close friendships the Skeeles have formed with others and what the others have formed with each other, resulting in a small community, deeply loyal and loving, and at the same time, free and independent. Its that community I’m welcomed into, some friendships going back to the 70’s, time-tested, and makes my time here a distinct privilege, creating an energetic, engaging environment for me to write in and to enjoy.
Since I’ve arrived, Beth has flown to Green Bay to visit her mother but not before Mary C, and her long-time friend Phyllis H. had a dinner wishing her farewell. I think I may have mentioned this dinner in an earlier journal. Beth’s absence didn’t slow anyone down. The evening meals went on as usual. What was good was that my son and I had some extra time together, walking the Totem Trail, sitting the beach along Indian River taking in the sun and talking leisurely. Two days ago, John departed to fish for halibut on another friend’s boat but here again, the hospitality never waivered, Marsh and Nora always there, taking me to lunch, helping me shop, offering rides here or there, though I most always chose to walk.
Last night, Wednesday, my last night, it was my turn and, oh, what fun I had treating six of my extended family to pizza and salad at the “Mean Queen”. The “Mean Queen”, hardly “mean”, is a popular restaurant (with a big bar) situated just at the foot of the O’Donnell Bridge leading to the airport and like everything else in downtown Sitka, an easy walk from my apartment. Marsh, Nora, Favio, Mary C., Gerry D. with Phyllis H., at my side, were all there, just the people I wanted around me, just the people I wanted to be with to celebrate a wonderful two weeks. I couldn’t have had a better time, such a productive combination of being together and apart but always in a context where you were sure of your place, left alone by choice but, you knew, always cared for. Before we called it a night, I told them how much I enjoyed my stay and the part they were playing in my life and that I definitely would be back for a longer stay next time.
