Season's change brings time for reflection

Aug. 14, 2005

Sunday Sampler\Sammye Pokryfki

Just when I thought it was safe to put away my tank tops, it looks like we have one more burst of summer. It has been hot all week, and forecasters predict more of the same.

Most people agree that we have had a wacky summer, with thunderstorms and lightning wreaking havoc statewide. That same unpredictable weather did some damage to my plans for refinishing the deck.

I got started one clear sunny morning, only to have a torrential downpour that washed away my effort in the afternoon. (My mother did not raise a fool, so this only had to happen once for me to recognize it as a plausible excuse for not refinishing the deck all summer. Weather too unpredictable; don't want to risk it.)

Aside from unusual weather, June and July were much the same as always: a blur of long days filled with seasonal chores, outdoor adventures and visitors. August has arrived and with it, my sadness to see the impending end of a glorious Alaska summer mixed with relief that things are slowing down for a minute before we head into the next busy season -- hunting, fall sports and back to school.

August feels to me like the lull between the two storms of July and September. According to the annual calendar that we all live by, December is the end of a year's cycle. Consequently, many people evaluate their lives and examine their priorities in January, and commit to a new year, making changes if needed.

I think Alaska has its own calendar and its own seasons of change, so maybe that's why I never feel compelled to make resolutions in January, when we are right in the middle of winter and nothing is going to change for a while. I'm more likely to reflect on things in August, when it feels like something important is ending and something new and exciting is about to begin.

Like many people, I have lots of summer traditions, and one of them is an annual meeting with my two oldest friends, Mark and Peggy. We were all Army brats who somehow managed to spend most of our childhood at Fort Richardson.

Most military kids rarely get to spend much time in one place, which makes it difficult to have enduring childhood friendships. But we three became friends in the summer after fifth grade and went all the way through high school together.

Although Mark hasn't lived in Alaska for many years, his family has a commercial fishing operation near Dillingham, so he spends a few weeks working the site. Switching planes in Anchorage offers an opportunity to visit.

Peggy lives in Anchorage, but our face-to-face visits are few and far between. When the three of us got together at the end of July, we had a year of catching up to do.

Peggy dominated the conversation because she had recently experienced a plane crash that took the life of her dog and almost killed her as well. She described the horrific feeling of being trapped inside a small plane, upside down in a cold lake, scrambling to find the door handle and recognizing that her next breath would be a watery one.

At the life-flashing-before-her-eyes moment before she was yanked from the plane and dragged to the surface, she realized how much she wanted to live, and her priorities got really clear, really fast. In the days of reflection following the accident, she realized she wanted to make some changes, big and small.

"I had bought some purple suede shoes in Paris last year," she said, "I loved them, but when I got home to Alaska, they seemed too outrageous for me to wear and they sat in a box in my closet. Two days after the crash, I said the heck with that way of thinking, took them out of the box and have been wearing them ever since."

This was not a fashionista talking, but a sturdy woman who knows a metaphor when she sees one. A week after the accident, she went up in a small plane again.

I haven't ever been in a plane crash, but there have been a couple of times in my life when seminal events prompted me to re-think my priorities. In the lull of August, I have the time and space to reflect on those priorities and decide how I want to approach the coming year.

Before I get sidetracked by the activities of autumn, I have this brief interlude to see if there are any metaphorical purple shoes stuck in my closet, examine my ways of thinking, and make changes if needed so I can keep flying high. All of which gives me something to think about while I refinish the deck, weather permitting of course.

Sammye Pokryfki lives and writes in Wasilla. She can be contacted at sammyepokryfki@ hotmail.com.