Alaska can bring you back to your future

April 17, 2005

Sunday Sampler/Sammye Pokryfki

Becoming a commuter recently has taught me a few things. One is to plan my departures according to traffic. I've found that if I leave my Anchorage office at 5 p.m., I get home at 6:15 (after sitting in traffic for half an hour) and, if I leave at 5:30, I still get home at 6:15 (no traffic).

Another thing I have learned is that I need more variety in my compact disc collection. But the most important thing I've learned so far is to appreciate that I live in the same area where I grew up.

When I was a senior at Bartlett High School, along with most of my classmates I dreamed of leaving Alaska and moving somewhere warm and exciting, some place where I didn't know everyone, where I could start over and be whoever I wanted to be.

But after a short stint of living in Colorado, I moved back to Alaska for good, eventually graduating from UAA. For about a decade or so I felt as if I had missed out on some important rite of passage compared to many of my friends who went Outside to college, some of whom came back to live in Alaska and some of whom permanently relocated to the Lower 48.

There were many times I felt downright provincial next to them, because their experiences were shiny and new, and mine seemed dull in comparison.

Over time, I have grown to embrace the distinction of being a lifelong Alaskan. Commuting has given me the opportunity to reflect on the privilege of living in the same area for a long time, and to realize how lucky I am to drive by my memories when I go to work.

Every time I traverse the Glenn Highway between Wasilla and Anchorage, I get to revisit my past. I grew up on Fort Richardson in the '60s and '70s, and I was taught to be patriotic at a time when being patriotic wasn't cool.

My dad was twice a Vietnam veteran, stationed in several places throughout his military career. But he spent the bulk of my childhood on duty at Ft. Rich.

Every single time I drive by that majestic American flag near the Ft. Rich gate alongside the Glenn, I think of my dad and I have a brief moment of some kind of extraordinary pride. Not because he was a combat hero or decorated officer (he was neither of those things), but because I remember what it was like to live on base among people who took to heart the words inscribed underneath that flag: "Privileged to serve."

I am proud of the sacrifices my father and thousands like him made at a time in history when many Americans did not appreciate that type of sacrifice.

Driving along the Glenn three times a week, I have been struck by the fact that this highway connects my past and future. Anchorage was my first hometown, and then I moved to the Valley, where I have raised a family, and now my career brings me back to Anchorage.

The Glenn Highway is my own "back to the future" experience. Through the years, I've seen the Glenn change in terms of the number of lanes and cars. But one thing that hasn't changed is its position through some of the most glorious natural scenery in the state.

I've watched each year with anticipation to see the Arctic Valley star light up and have enjoyed seeing my children share that anticipation.

I remember when a drive to Palmer (on the Old Glenn) seemed like going out to the country; it was so far away and culturally different than Anchorage. Now the Mat-Su is a lot like the Anchorage I knew during the pipeline boom - growing at the speed of light and losing some of its smalltown charm, while gaining economic promise and the richness of diversity.

My youngest child is now starting to prepare for college. She says she wants to go to school someplace Outside where it is warm, where she doesn't know everyone, where she can figure out who she wants to be.

I understand that.

But I know this much is true: Alaska has a way of bringing you back to your future, and that's a blessing that can take a lifetime to appreciate.

Sammye Pokryfki lives and writes in Wasilla.