About this day. It was one of those days in which so much happened that to elaborate on one or even two things would be a disservice to this particular day. So I won’t go into detail about any one thing.

I got up at 6:45 a.m., before the 7:00 p.m. wake up call, which never materialized. I went downstairs and into the room where the continental breakfast was being served. I sat at a table, adjacent to a table where five large men wearing camo jackets and pants were eating breakfast and talking loudly. There was a screen above them, apparently the royal palace had been broken into, but it was so large that the burglars could not find Kate, William, or the children. I looked, couldn’t find the milk, which I would have poured on my Cheerios or into my tea.

Took a cab back to Island Air. Knocked on the door. The staff could see me, and finally let me in. Read the Best Christmas Pageant. Finished as everyone around got up and headed towards the side door. I was the last one on the plane because the clerk had to unlock the door that had closed behind the last person.

Got on the 12-seater plane that I later learned was called The Caravan. It was filled with large men wearing camo. I took an aisle seat. It was next to the window seat. A huge man in camo had taken up half my seat. I attempted to fish for my seatbelt. He shifted his bulk around and gave me an assist. By now the plane was moving in the direction of the runway. I look up, at the back of the head of the pilot, who said, “It’s going to be bumpy,” to which I said “shit.”

The pilot was true to his word. It was bumpy liftoff, flight, and landing. I hung onto the seat bars and tightened my grip as the plane did its bucking bronco routine. I was terrified, and yes, I did think that I was going to die.

I relaxed once the plane came to a stop on the airstrip. I said to the guy next to me, “Thank you for your patience,” and he said that he’d fallen asleep five minutes into the flight. I must have looked incredulous because he then laughed and said he’d been on a lot of flights in the Aleutians.

I disembarked, then spotted Summer standing next to a fellow who was older, and whose white hair was plastered to his forehead. He introduced himself as Ray. By way of introduction, he said he used to teach at the Old Harbor School, drafting, woodworking, math, but now, retired, picked up the mail.

Summer, in the company van, took me to the Old Harbor School, which was five miles down the road. The school exterior looked like other one story government buildings, but the interior, was very school like. The windows allowed for ample light – and there was art on all the walls. The kitchen and main office were in the central area, and the classrooms were off the hallways as was the library.

I hung out for some time in the main office; Summer alternated taking care of things like a child with a cut finger and showing me the library revitalization plan for the next three days.

I spent the afternoon assisting three other teachers and several students in organizing books, prior to their going on shelves. We worked well and in a very efficient fashion.

Later, Pam arrived, and we were taken to where we were staying for the next few days, a local B and B, owned and run by Ray, the guy who picks up the mail, and Stella, who is both a B and B and community fixture.

Next: 316. 11/20/24: An Attitude of Gratitude