High Season

It's the high season. The locals are happy. The school kids are almost done with school. People are wearing shorts, seeing their own bare knees for the first time in months. Kayak and canoe racks have replaced ski racks on car tops. Most of our elected State officials have left town to drink their own morning coffee and sleep, finally, in their own beds at home.

Our already low unemployment numbers have plummeted. Our little town is full of tourists. Local businesses are punching out sales receipts as buyers walk away with more tee shirts, more ball caps, more guide books and more photos with the fake life size Sarah Palin than anyone can possibly use. I'm becoming a fan of the University of Nebraska sweatshirt combined with the hat from Ketchikan as seen on numerous globe-trotting retirees. I also like hearing the word "ulu" used in sentences. ("Look Ma! While you were busy buying glacial silt soap I went to the Ulu Shop and bought the kids an ulu!")

The cruise ships hang around town for about ten hours or so, and their bipedal cargo step out ready to cram as much Southeast Alaska excitement in those few hours as possible. Shiny new tour buses and decrepit old tour buses shuttle people from their nautical chariots to see whales, glaciers and bears, sample the local beer and gorge on cedar planked salmon like emaciated harbor seals.

The buses are everywhere. It might be impossible to make a left turn from an intersection. I am learning new alternative routes to get anywhere and everywhere. But, I am liking all this. Our town is happy.

Meanwhile I have a church to work on, since we don't yet have a church to work in. The seasonal rhythms of our city, including the high season will impact this work. As to how remains to be seen.