To start reading from the beginning, go to May 11, 2008.
Jimmy was back. He entered the store as his old positive self. The last I'd seen him, months ago, he was strapped in a strait jacket while state troopers loaded him into a plane for Nome or Anchorage. He was back again and stood before me without apologies, explanations, embarrassment or shame; as if the wild blip months before never happened.
I told him that while he was away I'd finally met his elusive brothers, Unksy and Gooksy (see MY ESKIMO FAMILY 66). He didn't respond in a familial way -- as if I'd met an extension of himself. I didn't recognize a trace in his demeanor as to connectedness one might expect or exude when talking about family. Maybe because he was the polar opposite of his brothers. While he was gregarious and always out and about the village, his brothers were hermit like and seemingly introverted. I suspect, in hindsight, the ALL the people of Golovin, because of their isolation and dependence, were one big family.
As for me, I wanted nothing more than to feel and believe I was intimately unquestioningly a part of a familial group. My immediate family and I were not close or very much involved with each other's lives. One of my two brothers died when we were all teenagers. My remaining brother and two sisters did not cry together or console one another. The event steeled our emotional disconnectedness into adulthood. I wrote letters home over the many months in Golovin but had yet to receive a letter from the family. My mother sent a large gift box for my birthday to the astonishment of Maggie. "What does she do for Christmas?" she asked.
Where mother made extraordinary efforts to send me gift boxes for birthday and Christmas, news and information from home barely existed. I received two or three letters consisting of newspaper articles on menstrual cramps or frostbite with a short sentence written in the margin. I hated those "letters". Perhaps my time in Golovin symbolized the conflict within between belonging -- not belonging -- the longing to belong -- and emotional isolation. The months I was in Golovin
, my inner thoughts of why I was there were not entertained by me. The adventure remained an adventure. I wished my sibling could share it with me. Soon, however, the moment would come when I realized I was outstaying my welcome and my child-like needs were intruding on family that was, ultimately, a group of strangers.
In the meantime, my devoted admirer, Jimmy, was back.
(to be continued) copyright Tamara Ann Burgh, all rights reserved
Snow drifts in Nome
Dry dock in Nome
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