Chatter Marks EP 132 Haunted by Alaska with Don Rearden

Don Rearden is an author and an educator whose work is rooted in Alaska—its landscapes, its communities, and the complex realities shaping life across the North. His writing—both fiction and nonfiction—blends elements of survival, culture, and environmental change. Whether he’s exploring a pandemic unfolding in the Arctic or a coastal village on the brink of relocation, his work is grounded in lived experience and respect for place. That respect comes from his upbringing in Southwestern Alaska. He says he’s haunted by it, in a good way.  Looking into homes left behind after an epidemic, running a dogsled team out across the ice to set a fish trap, how there was only one telephone in his entire community. Images like these he can return to anytime, not just for inspiration, but as a way of staying connected to where he comes from. 

He jokes that writing is his drug of choice because he’s able to step outside his body, away from old injuries and the noise of the world, and can move freely through story. It’s something he’s always turned to as an escape. It’s his way of traveling back to his youth in Southwestern Alaska, back to the tundra, the mountains, and the places that have defined him. It’s a place where survival wasn’t abstract, it was part of daily life. That time in a tight-knit community and nature has been a constant reminder of how much he still has to learn. It's also a reminder that Alaska isn’t a place of extraction, but a place rich with stories, culture, and meaning. Across his writing, he returns to these themes again and again. There’s survival, love, an appreciation for the fleeting nature of time, and a kind of magic rooted in the mystery of the world. He says that for too long these stories have been told from the Outside, but now it’s time they’re told from within.

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Storytelling and writing

(00:11):
And one thing I have learned about storytelling and writing
that I would love to pass on to people and I try as much as I can is
in writing about it, I think you get to start to control the narrative.
I think that's something I learned early on,
even if I'm fictionalizing or burying or hiding some sort of story in fiction,

(00:36):
I'm controlling the narrative and not letting it control me.
I think I've seen that with the people I've helped write their non-fiction stories,
their memoirs, their stories of grief and trauma.
I think it helps you unbox it, like I said, to not compartmentalize those stories

(01:02):
and bring them out in the open and tell them and then you get to control them
instead of them controlling you, whether it's PTSD or reliving those moments
or being traumatized by them.
I think you can kind of, I don't know, just take control of it
instead of letting it control you.
That was Don Reardon.

(01:24):
He's an author and an educator whose work is rooted in Alaska,
its landscapes, its communities, and the complex realities
shaping life across the North.
His writing, both fiction and non-fiction, blends elements of survival,
culture, and environmental change.

(01:48):
Whether he's exploring a pandemic unfolding in the Arctic
or a coastal village on the brink of relocation,
his work is grounded in lived experience and respect for place.
That respect comes from his upbringing in southwestern Alaska.
He says he's haunted by it in a good way,

(02:10):
looking into homes left behind after an epidemic,
running a dog sled team across the ice to set a fish trap,
how there was only one telephone in his entire community.
Images like these he can return to anytime, not just for inspiration,
but as a way of staying connected to where he comes from.

(02:36):
He jokes that his writing is his drug of choice
because he's able to step outside his body,
away from old injuries and the noise of the world,
and can move freely through story.
It's something he's always turned to as an escape.
It's his way of traveling back to his youth in southwestern Alaska,

(02:59):
back to the tundra, the mountains, and the places that have defined him,
in a place where survival wasn't abstract.
It was a part of daily life.
That time in a tight-knit community and nature
has been a constant reminder of how much he still has to learn.

(03:20):
It's also a reminder that Alaska isn't a place of extraction,
but a place rich with stories, culture, and meaning.
Across his writing, he returns to these themes again and again.
Their survival, love, and appreciation for the fleeting nature of time,

(03:44):
and a kind of magic rooted in the mystery of the world.
He says that for too long, these stories have been told from the outside,
but now it's time they're told from within.
So here he is, Don Reardon.

(04:07):
Welcome to Chatter Marks,
a podcast of the Anchorage Museum,
dedicated to exploring Alaska and the circumpolar north
through the creative and critical thinking of ideas,
past, present, and future.
My name is Cody Liske, and I'll be your host.

(04:30):
I think it's pretty common for writers
to talk about how environment and landscape shapes identity.
In your experience, how does living in Alaska
change the way people think about survival,
community, and responsibility?

(04:51):
Oh, wow. I think that, well,
and shapes the way we view the landscape
and how we live and think.
I mean, that's not for everybody,
but I just think if you spend any amount of time outside,

(05:12):
those moments, those conversations,
those moments are really important.
I just think if you spend any amount of time outside,
those moments are impactful
in ways that are hard to describe,
like that the day-to-day living

(05:35):
transforms the way you think, you breathe, you act.
And then there's just the rich history that's here.
And so I think all of that on some level
is kind of transforming how we live.
And then when it comes to storytelling,

(05:56):
the stories, we tell stories every day
about things we saw, things we did.
So it's just storytelling's part of Alaska.
And then this kind of broader narrative of Alaskan stories,
you can't really remove the environment from it.
And I think that's part of the myth of Alaska too.

(06:18):
We lean in hard on this Alaska's a dangerous place narrative
and kind of neglect the day-to-day living.
But then at the same time,
Alaskans also sort of pride ourselves
on our little personal survival stories
or just the extra work it takes to live.

(06:41):
I think part of that is also inherent in life here.
When you think about your childhood in Alaska,
are there any landscapes or moments
that still feel alive in your imagination
when you sit down to write?

(07:02):
Oh, yeah.
I mean, I think at some level,
I always kind of joke that I'm haunted by Alaska in a good way,
that I can't escape it.
I can't escape, especially my early youth,
I can't escape the things that I saw
and either was there for or heard somebody tell me about.

(07:29):
And there's just so many of those visions
that are just strange or otherworldly
that people have never been a part of,
like looking into houses that had been abandoned during an epidemic
or going by sled behind a team of dogs out

(07:52):
where it's just me and an old elder.
He wasn't an elder at the time, but Robert Ivan,
and putting in a fish trap beneath the ice,
a big, giant willow fish trap
that looked like a willow version of some sort of satellite

(08:14):
to catch pike and whitefish.
Just visions like that that I'll never get to relive
or that are so strange.
I'm not that old, and yet we lived in a village
that had one telephone.
At Christmas, we would get in line
to go call out to relatives downstates.

(08:35):
So there's just some of that stuff
that's just so strange and surreal in my mind
that I can tap into really easily
because it's just always there and always present.
And then I think, too, at some level,
writing is an escape.

(08:56):
It's always been a little bit of an escape for me,
and I've lived a really rich life.
I have loving parents and was never,
you know, everything's, I just feel like super lucky.
But at the same time, I was using storytelling
as a means to escape, whether it was the bad weather

(09:18):
or, you know, at times just the isolation
of living alone in Alaska
where, you know, like, just, you know,
you're isolated in that way,
and it was escape for me creatively,
and it still is.
I think I use it as an escape from daily life
to just the stresses of work and, you know, world affairs.

(09:40):
I can slip into a story, and I can travel home.
I can be back on the tundra.
I can be in the mountains.
And so that way, I think the landscape
and my kind of upbringing in southwestern Alaska
is like a landing spot or something for me,

(10:01):
like where I can find great peace,
even though it might be a place that's also,
you know, brought me grief and loss.
Yeah, there's something comforting
about those old memories and visions of it,
of that, yeah, of that life.

(10:23):
Does your upbringing in southwest Alaska
feel like a different life sometimes?
Oh, yeah, that's a fun question.
Yeah, in some ways it was
because of the way time works, you know,
and there was a few times where we moved.

(10:44):
I moved out when I was really young in second grade,
then we moved back to Montana for a couple years,
and then we moved back to Alaska.
And so time had changed for me in terms of growth
as a young boy.
And so those were different periods in time,
but they were also different periods in time
in terms of kind of modern,

(11:06):
like how colonization affected the villages.
And in ways, the things I saw, you know,
I talked about living in a village
where there was one phone,
and then living in a village where, you know,
not everybody had phones, but they didn't have,
it was pre-cell phone, of course,

(11:28):
and then just watching the influx of technology
come and change, like every single plane
was bringing in new stuff and more stuff.
And then even myself bringing things to the village
that, you know, like one of the villages that I lived in,
like I brought gangster rap to that village.

(11:49):
Okay, okay.
Which is like a, I don't know,
I don't know if it's something I'm proud of, you know?
And there was this weird thing happening in the Delta
where whoever, the people who brought satellite TV
to the Southwest Alaska determined that MTV
was not something that kids were going to get a watch there.

(12:13):
And so they had much music from Canada.
Okay.
And so there was no, and so it was basically like censored,
you know, they were not getting any vision of what this was.
And I had all these cassette tapes that were NWA
and just straight gangster rap that people hadn't heard.

(12:36):
And yeah, and I'm making copies and sharing it.
Yeah.
You know, so it was a different time for sure.
And so in my mind, yeah, it's something.
I mean, in one of the villages they had band dancing.
And I was like really into breakdancing
and actually got in a little trouble for doing that once.

(12:59):
It was kind of like we were living in Footloose or something.
And so the only dancing that was allowed was Yupik dancing,
which is cool.
Yeah.
But yeah, the kind of church, the powers of the church
had gotten rid of dancing, any other kind of dancing.
And so, yeah, so it's just like a different time in many ways

(13:22):
in my mind for sure.
And so when I go back to those villages,
it's really interesting to kind of,
it is like stepping back in time, but at the same time modernized.
Now everybody has phones and everybody's listening to that music
and everybody's tuned in to the outside world that way.

(13:43):
Whereas when you were younger,
you're bringing these NWA cassettes into your community
and it feels like contraband.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, it was contraband for sure.
I mean, my parents didn't necessarily approve,

(14:04):
but they respected my choices.
And then for sure, yeah, it was not to be played out loud in school
or anything like that.
Wow.
Yeah, I remember two situations.
So I grew up with Eazy-E, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg,

(14:27):
The Chronic, that was what we listened to, the Fugees.
And I remember my brother Derek put in Eazy Does It on a road trip.
And after a song, my mom just ejected the tape
and threw it out the window.

(14:48):
And to this day, that is this iconic story
that my brother Derek always tells.
And I mean, in my mom's defense, I mean, that CD is very crude.
It's not like a family-friendly, whereas like Fugees,
a family could kind of listen to, but Eazy-E was not the one.

(15:11):
But I had a similar experience where I was going to church school.
I went to Muldoon Christian Community when it was a K through 12.
It was crazy.
It was a lot of older kids with like kindergartners,
which that juxtaposition is pretty crazy to think about

(15:34):
when you're walking down the halls.
But I remember the first Eminem CD came out,
and I had it in my backpack.
And I wasn't even going to listen to it at school.
I just wanted to show my friend Brandon.
I'm like, hey, check this out.
It was the CD with the Vicodin pill on the front,
and the Vicodin is like a monster.

(15:56):
But those things were just thinking about how music evolves over time,
and it goes through these periods where it is like outlawed,
depending on the community that you live in.
It was interesting for me to sort of watch the adoption of hip-hop culture.

(16:21):
I was there for that, and I was definitely a part of it.
And it made sense to me because there was, of course,
the guns and basketball, which just totally makes sense,
but then also the voices of oppression and kind of the anger
ringing through and some of the violence.

(16:44):
We didn't have gangs, but we definitely had some of those feelings of aggression.
And it was kind of funny because I was definitely one of the first,
I don't want to say first, but kind of village gangster kids.

(17:05):
I was all about the Raiders, and I was dressed up like,
yeah, the West Coast guys.
And then my friends, some of my other friends,
they were the musicians.
Later we would form a band, the Funky Eskimos.
But this was in Bethel in high school.

(17:27):
We had a radio show every Friday night.
We were on from 12 to 2, and I would be playing mostly gangster rap
and pushing the envelope for public radio for sure.
And then my friends were playing grunge.
They were into rock or alternative music.

(17:50):
And so, yeah, music was sort of everything for us.
It was really part of an escape, part of forming that band.
And between writing and music, and just kind of creative escape,
that kept us out of trouble.
12 to 2 on a Friday, we were on the radio.
Everyone else was out doing bad stuff.

(18:12):
And then we're playing explicit lyrics on public radio
and getting in trouble from our manager.
Our manager, not the manager, but the volunteer manager,
she hated us.
But she couldn't get rid of us because the actual manager,
John McDonald from KYUK, he would actually tune into our show
and liked us.

(18:34):
Really? Okay.
That's cool.
She couldn't get rid of us.
Yeah, it was pretty cool.
Yeah.
You know, I'm thinking Alaska can produce deep solitude
as well as deep connection.
How do you balance those two extremes when you're writing?

(18:55):
Yeah, in my own writing, I think that's something I've kind of maybe
I think I grappled with that for many years.
And now I'm starting to find a way through it where even if I was,
I think I was internalizing a lot of angst and loss and grief.

(19:18):
And I was only brave enough to kind of put it in fiction
or maybe in song lyrics, the occasional poem.
I couldn't find a way to sort of tell my own story,
or I don't know if I didn't value my own story enough,
or I didn't want to disrespect or upset the community or culture

(19:42):
that had been so kind to me.
And I just couldn't find a way to do that.
So there was like a level of solitude there.
Like I was swallowing some of my own story.
And the late Sherry Simpson,
just who was one of Alaska's like most fabulous writers and teachers,
she was a mentor in grad school.

(20:04):
At one point she told me this, and I took it to heart for a while,
but I wasn't living it.
And she just told me like, she basically gave me permission.
She said, you could write your story.
It's okay for you to tell your story because it's yours.
And I think now I'm getting a little older

(20:26):
and I'm starting to understand that not only can I write my own story,
but I think at a certain level I sort of have to.
There's something in me compelling me to do that and say it's okay.
It's okay for me to at least express how I'm feeling,
what I've learned along the way.

(20:49):
I don't know.
Being who I am in a way that's not hiding it through fiction
or some other form that isn't as authentic, I guess.
And so I think I'm there.
I'm feeling it now.
I'm starting to share some of that.
And I have kind of a vision.
I was like, I can't ever write a memoir about all this.

(21:11):
I'll never do that.
And now I'm like, you know what?
I think I'm going to do it.
And I'm starting to.
That's great to hear.
Where do your stories usually begin?
Is it with an image, a character, a question, or something else?
Yes.

(21:35):
It's all of those, man.
I don't know.
It's something.
Sometimes, so like a novel that I just released as a fundraiser,
Moving Salmon Bay, about a village moving because of climate change,

(21:57):
a fictional village set in southwest Alaska,
that was just me knowing that this was going to happen,
that villages were going to have to move from spending time there.
And living in a village that was kind of sinking.
I lived in the village of – Gisigalook is split in half,

(22:20):
and Akyuk is the old village, and it's just sinking into the tundra.
And that was like, man, I don't even want to say how long ago
when I was living there, and that was happening.
And so I just knew something like that would happen.
But that's not a story.
It has to be about the characters.

(22:42):
And so I just thought, you know what?
I'm going to try to tell a story of a whole village moving.
I'm going to have a village full of characters,
kind of giving myself an impossible task because sometimes
I like to kind of take on hard storytelling.
And so that was kind of where that came from.
And then I just imagined just –

(23:05):
and sometimes in my stories I'm honoring people I know or knew.
And so I'll take little bits of their character and try to –
I just try to kind of take maybe people that I knew and lost
or people that I know and love, and I just kind of put them
into this fictional village and built that world in a village
that was kind of falling apart and facing a big move

(23:28):
and a big storm coming.
So that was – I wrote that in 2011, I think.
Okay.
And so it was a while ago, and then it never got published,
only published in France at first, and then gave it away
as a fundraiser after Typhoon Halong.

(23:49):
The next novel I wrote – I think it's funny because I think
some of my novels come out of angst, like The Raven's Gift,
angst and grief.
That's for sure.
And then I wrote another novel that's never seen the light of day.

(24:10):
Only – I don't know if – only a couple people have ever read it.
And it was based on – one of my friends was in pararescue.
He'd become a pararescueman and got injured,
and his life was kind of a mess.
I was like, I'll help you tell your story, Jimmy.
And he just wasn't ready at the time.

(24:32):
And so I was like, you know what?
I'm going to write a novel, and if it does well,
I'm going to help him out that way.
And so I wrote this novel about Alaska pararescuemen
who are like our Alaskan superheroes, part of the Air Force and Air Guard,
just some of the most badass, brilliant humans on the planet.

(24:53):
And so I write this novel and gave it to my agent,
and he was like, this is kind of terrible.
Who are these – he asked the same question.
He's like, who are these PJs?
And I told him where the story came from, and he's like,
get that guy on the phone right now.
And so I called Jimmy back, and he was in a better space.

(25:17):
It had been a year or half a year or something.
I was like, do you want me to help you tell your story?
He's like, yeah, I'm ready, man. Let's do it.
That's awesome.
And so that turned into a nonfiction project, right?
And then I would do another nonfiction project with Roger Sparks.
Yeah, yeah.
So it was like Warrior's Creed with Jimmy Settle,
or Never Quit with Jimmy Settle,
and then Warrior's Creed with Roger Sparks, and then –

(25:40):
Yeah.
Yeah, so then from there, this whole entire time, though,
I was haunted by another story.
And this is a novel that I finished a year ago,
and I'm kind of maybe working on a revision
because I never found a publisher for that either,
and I know it's good, unlike the PJ novel that I wrote,
which arguably I still think it was probably okay.

(26:03):
Okay.
I respectfully disagree with my agent.
Yeah.
But the new one was about a – I was haunted by just another idea,
and the idea was, like, what if there's these bowhead whales that are ancient
and they've lived through the dawn of modern man?
And I'm like, you know, the Inupiaq beliefs

(26:27):
and probably Yupik beliefs as well are, you know, these are sentient beings,
and they communicate and they can read our thoughts.
And so, you know, like right there was this novel idea.
And so that novel, that was really fascinating because it was an idea
and I was trying to capture it for several years.

(26:50):
I did all kinds of awesome research and for years
was trying to get the beginning of this book right, and I couldn't.
And then one day the whale just started talking to me,
and I just told the story.
Okay. Yeah.
And so, yeah, it's a whale telling a story to me.
And that's the one that, yeah, I don't know what I'm going to do with that.

(27:13):
If I have to stand out on the side of the street and hand out copies
or put it on a placard, I'm going to yell it at people.
I'll be the crazy guy yelling on the street, whales talk.
Here's the story, you know.
What's that moment like for you when you're searching for, you know,
the beginning of a book and all of a sudden it hits you?

(27:38):
Oh, man.
With this particular story, it was kind of crazy
because I started writing and I had like a paragraph
and it was like, this is the beginning.
I mean, this is it.
Like I could feel it.
And then my computer shorted out.
And then I spent the next year or two or maybe three trying to find that again

(28:07):
and was haunted by it.
I just couldn't.
I tried over and over and over, like just one sentence after another,
almost like pleading for that sentence to come back to get me started.
And then when the voice came, it was overwhelming.
Yeah, it was really profound.
It was not like the other experiences where when I wrote The Raven's Gift,

(28:31):
I had all these ideas, but I had no idea about the story or the character.
And it opens.
It just opens with a guy climbing up a frozen riverbank
and looking at a destroyed village.
And that was the vision I had.
From there, the book just kind of opened itself to me.
And this was kind of the same way, except it was just a voice.

(28:53):
And it was magical.
It was profound.
I mean, there was times like when I was writing it that I was maybe in tears
or like in a trance almost of what I was learning.
I was learning the whole time I was writing it, which was really magical.
And I love that.
I love that.

(29:15):
I've always joked that writing is my drug of choice.
Not that I do drugs.
That makes it sound like I have all these drugs I like,
but writing is the one I like the best.
I mean, if I do, the drugs are like Alaska and being outside
and chopping wood.
But I've always joked for decades now, like writing is my drug of choice.

(29:41):
And then only recently last fall, I was listening to some interview with,
I think it was like Dr. Sanjay Gupta.
He was talking about like pain and different ways people relieve pain.
And he was talking about like if there are things that you really, really love,

(30:05):
they basically hit the brain in the same place as like the opioids do
and the receptors, you know.
And like when I'm writing, I'm free from all my physical pain,
from all my dumb Alaskan adventures or sports injuries,
and free from worry, and I leave my body.
I'm not in this realm.

(30:26):
I'm somewhere else.
And that's like it is my drug, you know.
And when you're locked in a story, man, it's just taking me somewhere.
I lose time.
When I'm working with my students, I have them writing,
often timing their writing just to pressurize it for them.
And I'm like, how long was that?
And they're like, oh, it was only, you know,

(30:50):
it only felt like a couple minutes.
I've been like, you've been writing for this long, you know.
And I'm like, you lose time.
And that's the sweet spot for me, and that's the, I mean,
that's what I would be doing all the time if I could.
If I could just sit and write all day, that's what I would do.

(31:11):
You know, talking about moving Salmon Bay again,
it's about relocation, not just as a logistical challenge,
but as something emotional and cultural.
What does leaving home mean in context of a place

(31:32):
where identity is inseparable from land?
Oh, wow. Yeah.
That's a profound thing that I think we all sort of need to think about.
In what I was, one of the things I was trying to get at
with moving Salmon Bay was that, you know,
like we will have our first climate refugees for our country.

(31:59):
And I was like, it's going to be here in Alaska.
And I could just see that. I could feel it.
And I could feel and just felt,
I felt like we weren't going to do enough for people.
And it's clear why I felt like that,
because we still have communities that don't have running water.

(32:20):
We can put a rover on Mars, and we can't somehow plumb the tundra,
and there's water everywhere.
And people don't have good drinking water,
and they don't have sanitation.
And to me, that just kind of showed that we would neglect people.
And then that would not only like reflect bad on us,

(32:42):
but also our inability to understand.
We're all like one disaster away from that same situation.
And we're seeing this more and more with the effects of climate change,
where, you know, the fires in California and landslides and flooding
and I think it's just our own lack of empathy

(33:05):
or enough creativity to imagine ourselves in that situation.
And so to me, that's pretty profound.
And then I think on some level, when I'm writing,
I mean, it's always about us and about ourselves.
Writers are egotistical that way, or even if we're not,

(33:29):
like we're embedding our own being in some of this.
And I think even though I've lived in Anchorage for years now,
I think I still feel displaced somewhat from leaving the culture that raised me.
And so I can feel, you know, it's not my culture.

(33:50):
I'm not Yupik, my nephews and nieces are.
And I'm seeing a really cool resurgence of their back learning the language
and doing all these cool camps out at the village where my sister lives.
And I think that's, you know, amazing.

(34:14):
And I think for me, I can just feel the loss myself
and then can only imagine what it would really be like
when, you know, you're completely displaced.
And I think of the people in Anchorage that have just,
they got, you know, got ripped out of their homes
and stuffed into a plane and flown here
and haven't got to go back and don't know if they'll get to, you know.

(34:38):
And that's tough.
Having made those moves from small villages to bigger,
you know, to move from a village to Bethel is like moving to New York City
for a mask and like somebody from Anchorage,
maybe even more dramatic in some ways.
And then to go from the village to Anchorage is,

(35:00):
man, in some ways like moving to the moon.
Okay, okay.
Yeah.
And when you have to leave your village and your culture,
yeah, I don't want to speak for the people that have had to do it,
but man, it rips me apart just having to think about it
and know how awful that must be.
And like I said, like I've lived here and I, you know,

(35:25):
love Anchorage, I love this community,
but still feel displaced in a way.
And I can't put my finger on what that is
other than when you live in a village,
every day people recognize your humanity
and it feels like I could move around Anchorage
and not necessarily have that happen.

(36:07):
♪♪
♪♪
♪♪

(36:37):
♪♪
♪♪

(36:59):
There's this feeling throughout moving Salmon Bay
that the land itself is alive, melting, shifting,
almost grieving at times.
How do you think about landscape as something that holds memory?

(37:20):
Oh, man, that's beautiful.
I love that idea.
You know, it is alive.
Like if you've ever been on the tundra,
holy crap, it's alive.
You are walking on, especially in the summer,
maybe in the winter it's a lot easier to not like recognize that.

(37:41):
But in the summer, the land beneath you is alive
on a level that is so ridiculous.
Like the, you know, one little square foot of tundra
is just packed with all kinds of organisms.
And so in that sense, you're really right.
Like it's alive beneath you.

(38:04):
And I mean, I think about this a lot.
When I'm outside walking around, my brain's going all over the place,
firing a thousand different directions.
And I'm paying attention to the big, big picture of the raven up above
in the sky looking down.
And then I'm also looking for tracks and looking on the ground.

(38:26):
And yeah, it just feels alive.
And I think that's, there's like levels of awareness that we can attain.
And I'm really into like trying to tap into some of that stuff.
And so that ground does feel alive.
And so in Salmon Bay, in moving Salmon Bay, the people, you know,

(38:52):
if you're having to move from a place where you've always been,
and that land is, the land sort of would hold the history of it
all around you from like little artifacts to tracks and trails.
And then if it's eroding, you know, it also like,

(39:13):
when you live somewhere where the permafrost is melting,
there is this like, the land beneath you, like deep down is alive too.
And so it feels like things are just crumbling.
And I remember as like the, as my like,
some of my youngest memories are going down to the Kuskokwim River
and just watching it, watching the river erode right in front of you.

(39:37):
And the land just kind of crumbling, right.
And you're like always wondering like how much, how much more will fall?
When's that big slab going to fall in?
And so those villages that are sort of stuck with, that are really coastal,
like man, it's really alive.
And I've had some neat experiences too.

(39:58):
Like friends took me to a site outside of Tuk Tuk where there were old,
like an old village was washing into the sea.
And you could just stand on the beach and watch.
You could see artifacts that, you know, the next tide we're going to take.
It was really kind of profound to me to see that too.
And I think some of those images like never left my mind.

(40:22):
And I think about the, there's a village site outside of Kwinohawk
that a new archeological site they've been digging for a few years.
And the discoveries they're making there are really incredible.
And so, you know, when you have thousands of years of history,
sort of opening up, it sort of proves what you're saying.
This idea of the land is, it's not just alive,

(40:44):
but it has a memory from way back and it's revealing itself to us.
Yeah. Yeah.
Despite the heaviness of what's going on in Salmon Bay,
there's also a sense of warmth, humor, and resilience.
How do communities maintain that in the face of ongoing loss?

(41:13):
That's, I think, I think that's kind of a part of indigenous cultures.
Like as an outsider, kind of, I'm saying that of just my admiration
for the importance of humor to survive through things.
And I get it. And I think I, my wife's a nurse.

(41:38):
So, and she's worked in the ER and have friends who are firefighters
and have friends who are first responders
and special operations guys from the military.
They all, you know, there's like dark humor, black humor.
Gallows humor.
Gallows humor. Yeah.
And you're like, how can you laugh at this?

(41:59):
Like they have to, you know, you, you, I, part of,
even in like the seven steps of survival, the last one is play.
Like you have to make sure in a survival situation,
you still remember to play and have fun, I think,
because that's what makes us human.
It's part of our human connection.
And it eases, I think it eases grief.

(42:24):
It, you know, if you can laugh, if somebody can laugh with you,
there's community, you know, and just like it helps restore community
and build community. And yeah.
So humor, I think is just, is an essential part of that.
And, and the warmth, the warmth is, you know,
you can't necessarily be warm alone. You need somebody else.

(42:47):
The more people that can kind of circle up and gather up,
the more warmth you have and the more laughter there is,
the more connectedness.
And so I think that's all sort of what, what brings us together.
And I think maybe, maybe like what I admire so much about,
about communities that are still like intact and,
and working hard together.

(43:15):
You know,
I'm thinking about all of your stories and all of your books that,
that I've read personally. And,
you know, most of them have these characters that are put into extreme
environments where survival is uncertain for fiction.

(43:38):
There's the Raven's gift and moving salmon Bay for nonfiction.
There's warrior's creed and never quit.
Warrior's creed and never quit. Like you mentioned earlier, those two,
what are those situations reveal about human nature?
I think those situations reveal the

(44:03):
resilience of human nature and,
or at least are imbued with what I've seen in terms of
resilience of human nature and our ability to,
to overcome, to, to change, to grow,

(44:24):
to love again. I think that's,
I think that's sort of the thread that I'm always looking for.
And that's part of what I love about a good story and,
and kind of what I feel in my bones or what I hope in my bones and what I want
my kids to know and understand. Yeah.

(44:48):
You said to love again, I feel like there's
in that there's the idea of second chances.
Oh yeah. Yeah. Nice. That's yeah. I love, I love your,
your interviews, Cody.
The second chances and a chance to do over,

(45:12):
you know, or, or
hope that like things can get better or we can strive to make them better.
I think that's, I think that's really important
that we can get a second chance or that we can grow.
I think that we can learn and grow from things.
And, you know, in, in warrior's creed, Roger Sparks, he, he, he's,

(45:38):
I mean, he's, that guy is like a, an elder in a young elder.
Like, I guess it's from the things he's seen and the way he grew up.
That's that book is still just resonates for me.
I feel like I'm learning every day from it,
even though I helped him tell that story.
And, and he's a big sort of believer that like
learning, like we don't change or grow or learn without pain and struggle.

(46:03):
And I, I'm like kind of way more of an optimist.
I'm like, I hope I don't want to feel that pain or,
but I totally think he's right.
You know, I think we have to, if we're going to change and grow,
we have to at least acknowledge, acknowledge the pain.
Find a way through it, you know, and it'll make us stronger.

(46:28):
When someone is stripped of comfort and routine, they're cold,
they're hungry, they're alone.
What parts of a person remain?
Oh, man.
Yeah.
There was this time when I was, uh, I,
I was setting up a camp for a dear friend,

(46:50):
a hunting camp for a caribou camp.
And he flew me in and dropped me off in the Chick Chick mountains,
um, at slate Lake, um, by float plane and left.
And I had this, I had everything a guy could need,
this amazing tent, a weather van, a caribou tent.
I had everything.
I was armed and, you know, it's an area with big bears and stuff,

(47:14):
but I was, I had everything I needed.
And, uh,
I set up camp that night in a big storm hit and ripped the tent right
off the top of me.
And it, it blew in the Lake and sank.
Um,
and,
uh,
uh,
it was,
it was,
it was,
it was,
it was,
it was,

(47:35):
it was,
um,
and,
uh,
I mean the first thing,
so I was,
I just went to sleep and I heard,
I heard a sound like,
and I was like,
Oh,
I was like,
Holy cow.
You know,
I mean,
for a minute I was like,
I was worried it was the big bear across the Lake.
I'd seen eating berries and that he,

(47:57):
that he had hit the tent or something.
And the next sound I heard was,
uh,
kind of another,
more of a roar that,
that I was like,
Oh crap,
that's a plane.
And then it's like,
looked at my clock and I was like,
Oh,
there's no way that Myron would be flying in this late.
Well,
that was the sound of the next big willow wall coming down the
Valley.
And it hit ripped the 10 off the top of me.

(48:19):
Those,
those,
those tents don't have a floor,
but it was,
it was heavily secured all the way around.
It just ripped it right off the top and blew it in the Lake.
And it sank.
I,
I watched it sinking and these white caps.
Um,
and I was,
and,
and it was blowing really hard and it was really windy.
And my stuff was blowing all over the Tundras.

(48:42):
I'm trying to grab it,
watching this thing sink.
And,
uh,
I was going to die.
You know,
I was like,
I'm going to die.
Like that was my,
it's my first thoughts.
I almost jumped in the Lake to go try to retrieve it.
Um,
had I done that,
I would have definitely died.
It would have been one of those classic Alaskan mysteries where,
where the,
where the,

(49:03):
where,
you know,
he would have showed up at that with the plane a few days later and
there's like,
everything's gone.
Yeah.
Um,
and they would have never found me.
Um,
so I opted not to jump in and,
but I was instantly soaking wet,
instantly had no shelter and was instantly in survival mode where I was
like,

(49:24):
this is not good.
Um,
and you know,
the next 24 hours were complete,
complete survival mode.
Um,
trying to not,
you know,
I was soaking wet and I never understood as it's so silly as like an
Alaskan.
Who's like,
you know,
I'm tough.
I can do all this.
I always sort of laughed at the idea of like,

(49:45):
how does somebody get hypothermia?
Like 40 degrees?
Like,
that's just silly.
Like,
you know,
only you would only freeze to death at like subzero temperatures.
I was like,
now I understand exactly how that happens.
Yeah.
Um,
when you're cold and wet bed,
it's the worst thing ever.
Uh,
yeah.
And it was,
yeah.
And so I think just that very idea of,

(50:07):
of what it's like to be,
I knew everything that what saved me was,
I knew,
I knew I had to get warm.
I knew I needed fire in a place with no trees,
um,
very little wood.
Um,
and I knew my brain would start failing me,
you know?
And,
um,
um,
so I was just like really stripped of everything.

(50:31):
Like,
you know,
like literally once I finally got a fire going,
which took hours and hours,
I kind of raid a nearby beaver lodge and tear it apart and try to find dry
wood and scrape down in the middle of the wood to get,
to get dry wood inside the wood.
It was like so desperate.
Yeah.
Hands weren't working.

(50:52):
And then,
you know,
I had to stand over this little tiny fire once I got it going to try to dry
off and get warm.
Um,
there's that idea of not having anything or anyone but yourself.
Um,
and the places your mind goes and from paranoia and,

(51:13):
uh,
obsession and loss and grief,
like all like the,
I don't like to say it cause everyone's saying it these days,
all the things.
And then I just said it.
Um,
yeah,
it was,
it was all the things.
Um,
and I remember the,
like one of the dumbest Alaskan movies ever,

(51:35):
the edge with Anthony Hopkins and,
and one of the bald ones.
I don't remember which one,
maybe it was Alec.
I don't feel too well,
Charles.
I don't feel too well at all.
Yeah.
He's,
he said in that,
in that thing,
I could,
I mean,
I,
I was thinking about,

(51:56):
I was like,
he's like,
people die of shame,
you know?
And I remember just laughing at that,
thinking how dumb that was.
And man,
I'll tell you,
as I was there dying,
uh,
or trying not to die,
that idea of dying of shame was,
I was ashamed of losing the tent.
I was like obsessed with like,
I lost this,
you know,

(52:17):
several thousand dollar tent.
Um,
and.
Yeah.
It was like,
I,
then I sort of became obsessed with,
well,
if I survive,
we're going to get that tent somehow.
Okay.
Okay.
Um,
yeah,
but,
but I,
uh,
that's a long winded way of like saying,
yeah,
I think,
um,

(52:38):
those sort of moments like strip you to a bare essence where you understand life on a different level,
you know,
I think.
And,
and,
um,
I,
you know,
I've been through stuff like that.
And I think it,
yeah,
it connects us in a different way too.
What have situations like that,
you know,

(52:59):
your time in nature or time writing,
you know,
maybe even reflecting on those situations.
What have they taught you about fear,
resilience,
grief,
and humility?
I think they've kind of taught me everything.
Um,
about not everything.

(53:21):
I think I still have a lot to learn.
Maybe that's it.
Maybe they've taught me.
I have so much more to learn.
That's a better way of thinking about it.
Um,
I think,
I think in some ways,
a lot of us come,
especially maybe where I grew up with so much loss and grief,
you start to compartmentalize everything,

(53:42):
um,
to find your way through it.
And even with fear,
I think we compartmentalize stuff.
We,
um,
and,
and I think,
I think as I'm getting older,
I'm starting to learn that I have to open that box up and,
um,
and not just shut it away.
Like shutting it away is the big tough guy move.

(54:04):
And I'm learning that that's not,
that's not going to be healthy to,
to try to live carrying that weight.
I think it's kind of,
it's kind of like the things they carried that idea of just the burden,

It's just like weighing you down,
weighing you down.

um,
I think the right move is to,
to,
to be open to it,

(54:25):
uh,
to,
I'm trying to be better about like facing my fears,
um,
expressing myself and,
you know,
being,
being vulnerable,
uh,
where before I wouldn't do that.
Um,
and so I think,
you know,
if I,
if I,
if I'm going to kind of be the person I espouse to be,

(54:46):
then I have to,
or that I want my students to be,
or,
uh,
fellow writers to,
to be honest and be real.
Then I got to do that myself too.
And,
and so,
yeah,
I think those moments sort of open you up to,
to,
to either you compartmentalize it,
to survive it,
but then you've got to,
to,
so that it doesn't haunt you for the rest of your life.

(55:09):
You got to find a way to let the burden go.
And yeah.
And one thing I have learned about storytelling and writing that I would love to pass on to people.
And I try as much as I can is in writing about it.
I think you get to start to control the narrative.
Um,
I think that's something I learned early on,
even if I was fixed,
even if I'm fictionalizing or burying or hiding some sort of story in fiction,

(55:37):
I'm controlling the narrative and not letting it control me.
I think,
um,
and I think I've seen that with the people I've helped write their nonfiction stories of their memoirs,
um,
their stories of grief and trauma.
I think it helps you.
It helps you unbox it.

(55:58):
Like I've said,
like to,
to not,
um,
compartmentalize those stories and bring them out in the open and tell them.
And then you get to control them instead of them controlling you,
whether it's PTSD or reliving those moments or being traumatized by them.
I think you can kind of,
um,
I don't know,
like,
yeah,
yeah.

(56:19):
Just like take control of it.
And,
but instead of letting it control you,
I don't know if that answered the question,
but I tried,
you know,
earlier,
you said that you've been trying to face your fears.
What kind of fears are you finding yourself trying to face?

(56:42):
I think some of the fears I'm trying to face is sort of admitting,
um,
how,
how I feel about our situation in the world,
um,
um,
as,
as kind of humanity and my concerns about that.

(57:04):
And also this real complicated situation of being a parent now and wondering how,
how,
how the heck can I give them the rich experiences that my parents did,
living in another culture,
learning from other cultures.

(57:25):
Um,
and,
and,
and then keeping them safe as well and,
and protecting them,
you know,
in a world that's just way different,
you know,
well,
you know,
you drop them off at school and you're like,
they're facing a different reality than,
than when I took a,
take a,

(57:46):
when we would take us a boat to school or a sled,
like we had a school sled that we would ride in.
Like,
it's crazy.
Um,
and then,
you know,
like I took,
I took my,
I took my 22 to,
to high school to work on the stock in shop class,
you know?
So I,
I took a rifle to school to work on it,

(58:09):
um,
in shop class.
And that was not a big deal.
And now we have school shootings,
you know?
Yeah.
In fact,
a school shooting in Bethel were where I,
I taught the year after that happened,
um,
and no intimately knew one of the kids who was killed there.
So,
yeah,

(58:30):
it's like,
it's,
it's interesting.
It kind of goes back to like facing that fear idea of like,
what,
what am I,
what am,
what am I afraid of?
And what am I leaning into?
And I think,
um,
more and more it's,
it's speaking my truth,
uh,
as I see it and trying to share what I've learned,

(58:51):
whether it's to save that so that my kids can see it down the road or
helping give back in a way,
I guess.
Um,
I guess afraid some of the fears might just be,
I'm not,
not doing enough.
Uh,
I think that's,
you know,
I think that's a big part of like living in a community,

(59:12):
um,
and feeling that connect connection and knowing it,
you know,
you've got it pretty good and other people are struggling.
And so trying to,
trying to give back in the ways that I can and stories,
how I,
how,
you know,
the thing I know,
the thing I love.
Um,
I don't know the other fears,
the other things that I,

(59:34):
that I'm kind of leaning into is maybe just trying to help other people
feel the levels of empathy that I do.
And I know story is important that way.
There's all kinds of science that show that people who read literary

(59:56):
fiction and literary nonfiction,
um,
they have higher levels of empathy and,
and then fewer and fewer people are reading.
And so that means there's going to be less empathy in the world.
And so maybe if they're not reading and I can still get stories out there,
I can help people,
you know,
feel for others and not be so self-centered.

(01:00:20):
Uh,
yeah,
I think that's,
and then I guess a big fear is that that's not going to happen,
you know,
where I won't have that chance or they won't other people,
it's just not going to happen.
Yeah.
So if I can help bring the next storytellers around that can find a way to
do it and where I didn't,
that helps too.

(01:00:43):
I feel like the through line with so much of this conversation is about place
and landscape and people and change.

that that's a big,
that's a big one as well.
And what I'm thinking of is the Arctic.

(01:01:05):
And how it's one of the fastest changing regions on earth.
Do you think storytelling has a role to play in helping people understand those
changes?
Oh yeah.
100%.
I think,
I mean,
storytelling might be the constant,

(01:01:27):
you know,
it might be the one thing that's not,

it's under attack for sure.
Or it's,
it's falling apart and we're losing some stories,
but it's what brought people here.
It's what sustained people.
It's where all of the information came from,
you know,

(01:01:48):
culture was transmitted through story.
And I think,
I think it's really important.
And I think it's,
it's also like part of where we went wrong in,
in explaining to the rest of the world,
the change that's happening here.
We just didn't tell the story the right way.
And I think that we need to find more people to help deliver that story of

(01:02:12):
like,
this place is changing and we're,
we're on the,
you know,
we're on the tip of the spear here and you better pay attention.
Instead of letting others tell our story,
you know,
like that's where Alaska,
I mean,
I don't want to blame us.
But I think that's where we fail,

(01:02:33):
but we also fail in that the people who,
who come here,
they leave,
they don't necessarily stay here.
And,
and so I've always sort of felt a little,
I was always questioning,
like,
why is this allowed to be this way?
And,
and it is this,

(01:02:54):
it's this,
this transient nature of kind of the people in control in Alaska.
Who set the narrative,
even though they're not the storytellers.
I don't know if that makes sense.
They,
they look at Alaska as this resource state and where the real resource is,
the stories and the culture and the landscape and not just something to

(01:03:19):
extract.
And that's where we've sort of failed.
And we allow the outside world to kind of tell our story and dictate what's
going to happen here.
And I think that the real,
the real like move we need to make is tell our own damn stories and find a way

(01:03:40):
to get them out there.
The,
the obsession with Alaska is not going away anytime soon,
but the,
the unfortunate part is it's always all these other people telling our story,
you know?
And so it's like,
if we can find a way to spread a better understanding and let the stories be

(01:04:02):
told in a,
in a powerful and evocative way,
that's what we need to do.
And,
and that's the constant that we need is that,
that'll help,
help us kind of set a trajectory that really like to me,
the biggest,
the,
the,
I don't know what the,
I'm missing,

(01:04:23):
I'm like kind of missing the word for it now,
but like the,
the,
the main indicator,
the most important thing is like the health of the kids,
right?
In a place,
the population,
the health of the children should be where you gauge everything like the,
the future of a community,
the future of a state should be gauged in like how healthy are the kids and how

(01:04:46):
hopeful are they for the future?
And,
you know,
in a state with the highest rates of suicide,
like,
and that's youth,
like,
there you go.
Like we're not there.
And I think kind of us reshaping the narrative and taking control of it
ourselves is the way to go there and,
and finding hope and,
and driving us forward in a way that's positive and fun and funny.

(01:05:10):
And,
you know,
taps into the resilience.
It's always been here.
Yeah.
Are there stories about Alaska or the Arctic that you feel still haven't been
told?
Oh,
yeah.
I mean,
there's,
there are just faults,
vaults of those,

(01:05:32):
every single community,
every single old person here,
probably even young kids.
I mean,
I think,
I think that there are,
and just historically,
there's all kinds of crazy stuff.
I mean,
I know I could spend the rest of my life easily tapping into some of those.
If I'm trying to think of specifics,

(01:05:55):
my brain kind of just melds everything all together at once,
you know?
And,
and,
and,
you know,
I,
you know,
and,
and,
and so much needs to be told where people don't understand like the
diversity that's here,
the richness of the culture of the richness of the history of before

(01:06:21):
contact,
after contact,
the,
the wars.
My biggest one,
if I could focus on one really quickly,
that I,
that I kind of love are like the,
that haven't been told in any kind of meaningful way that's reached the
youth are the various indigenous warriors.

(01:06:42):
And they're like Marvel level.
I mean,
like Marvel level,
like,
like comic book hero kind of stuff.
They're just,
they're just so bad-ass.
Whether it's,
whether it's the warriors from the Yupik book,
Bow and arrow wars or the Tlingit warriors.

(01:07:03):
I mean,
they're just so cool.
Like that's the,
I,
you know,
I would just love to see,
I love to see like these Marvel level movies made of,
of those,
of those warriors.
Or even someone like Ada Blackjack,
like.
On the main,
like silver screen for kids to see.
And,

(01:07:24):
and,
to be celebrated,
like schools named after them,
streets named after them.
Yeah.
Having kids read about them in textbooks.
And those are the stories that I think like would do go back to what I was
saying before,
bring hope,
you know,
and,
and,
and pride.
Can you give me an example of one of these warriors?

(01:07:47):
Yeah.
One of the Yupik warriors is a Panukpuk.
He was,
it's kind of,
it's so interesting.
It's,
he's almost like the model Marvel sort of superhero,
comic superhero,
like an orphan raised by his uncle.
Who'd have him roll on the beach in the,
in the rocks and the shards of,
of shells,

(01:08:08):
seashells to,
to make his skin.
Unpierceable by arrows.
Yeah.
Yeah.
He's one of them.
Oh man.
I'm trying to think of the,
the Tlingit warrior.
I keep my brain just kind of fried on me.
Oh man.
What's his name?
Oh,
I can't believe I can't think of it.
My friend.

(01:08:29):
Yat-Sin just has an album out.
One of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,

(01:08:50):
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the,
one of the top one of the,
one of the top one of the,
of the top ones.
And one of them just has an album out.
One of his songs on that album's named after.
This hero,
oh man,
he,
he like crushed the Russians.
Oh,
caught the on.

(01:09:11):
He led,
he led those,
he led those,
he led those,
those battles against the Russians and was just completely unstoppable.
Yeah.
That sounds awesome.
I would watch those movies in a second.
Me too.
I would love,
I would love to be a part of them.
Maybe if Alaska would like get a brain,

(01:09:33):
the state of Alaska and bring,
bring back,
bring back the film incentives.
Like,
come on.
We'd be here if we don't have those.
Yeah.
Are there any themes or questions you find yourself returning to as a writer?
Ones you continue to try and figure out or to understand?

(01:09:57):
Yeah.
I mean,
I survival is always going to be one of the themes for me for sure.
And just the concern for the survival of humanity inherently.
But I think love and just the appreciation for the time we have here.

(01:10:23):
I mean,
it sounds kind of just simple and dumb.
I think those are always things I'm going to return to.
And on some level,
I think magic,
the not,
not in the abracadabra sense,
but,
or,

(01:10:44):
or even in the magical realism sense in just the,
the,
the mystery of the world.
I think that's,
I think I'm really fascinated by that.
I don't,
I don't know where that fascination comes from.
It's just the unanswerable questions and exploring those.
And I love all of the interconnections of those,

(01:11:05):
of the,
those mysteries and wondering about them.
Not,
not in the religious sense,
but just in,
in the mystery of it.
And those,
those unanswerable things in life.
I,
I like exploring some of that and then allowing for the synchronicity or
surprise or the uncanny to appear in,

(01:11:27):
in our lives,
whether it's fiction or nonfiction or just the,
the broad,
broad connections that are made.
And just,
I think Alaska is a good example of that.
Like just the magical connections,
you know,
like things,
things just happen here that we are out of the ordinary,
but then we're just like,

(01:11:48):
yeah,
yeah,
that,
that happened,
you know?
That was crazy.
That was magical.
And that just,
I just saw that,
you know,
or I was a part of that.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I love that.
I think that anybody who's spent any time in Alaska,
let alone growing up there,
you see those things.

(01:12:11):
You see things that you can't readily explain and that you're left with
just accepting it.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Just weird,
weird things where you,
you know,
you pull something out,
you pull somebody out of the snow bank,
they're stuck.
And then you,
you don't know,
you have no idea who they are.

(01:12:32):
And then a few days later you run into their grandma,
you know?
Yeah.
Yeah.
And,
and,
and she's somehow helping you,
you know,
or yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Your,
your dentist just happens to,
that was,
that was his wife.
It's just,
it's just so weird.
It really is.

(01:12:53):
Yeah.
Well,
Don,
those are all the questions I have for you.
I want to thank you for your time and for the care and the depth you bring to the stories you tell,
especially the ones rooted in places and people that risk being overlooked or even erased.

(01:13:14):
Thanks,
man.
Thanks,
Cody.
I really appreciate that.
I always,
always enjoy chatting with you and love what you're doing to help share the stories of Alaskans in this form.
I think it's important and I'm always honored to,
to get a chance to,
to chat and share a little bit of little,
a little bit of what's happening between these two ears and this crazy brain of mine.

(01:13:38):
For more information about the Anchorage Museum,
visit Anchorage museum.org.
This podcast was produced by me,
Cody Liska for the Anchorage Museum with additional help from Julie Decker.

(01:14:00):
Chatter Mark's music is produced by Keys Open Doors.
Chatter Mark's music is produced by Keys Open Doors.