Voices from the Sitka, Alaska Wordsmith: Book 2 of the Martin R. Strand, Sr. Trilogy
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About this ebook
The editor, Ken Smith, has been involved socially, politically, culturally, economically and spiritually in the life of Alaska for over sixty years. He has been Martins friend for this same period of time. Martin, who physically passed away soon after deciding to write these books, had great expectations for this trilogy. It is our hope that we have at least partially fulfilled those expectations.
Martin R. Strand Sr. is a unique transitional person between Tlingit culture and Caucasian culture within the State of Alaska, not just in the past but also in the present. As you read the various selections in the trilogy you will gain an accurate understanding of this personality who was forever seeking to understand other persons, the natural habitat in which he was raised, and the cultural nuances that he received from his grandparents only to be passed on to his grandchildren and others. He is proud but at the same time loving. He is curious but also satisfied with little. Above all else he wants to make a difference and through these writings he does.
Martin R. Strand
Martin R. Strand was a resident of Sitka, Alaska, of Norwegian and Tlingit background. His total involvement in community and state affairs qualifies him to speak to the total native population. He speaks from a first personal awareness. He is acknowledged as a spokesperson for Alaskan natives.
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Voices from the Sitka, Alaska Wordsmith - Martin R. Strand
Voices from The Sitka, Alaska Wordsmith
Book 2 of the Martin R. Strand, Sr. Trilogy
Copyright © 2010 by Martin R. Strand-
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
iUniverse 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN47403 www.iuniverse.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-6918-6 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-4502-6919-3 (ebk)
Contents
DEDICATION
FORWARD
AN EXPRESSION OF APPRECIATION
THE INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER 1 ALASKA NATIVE BROTHERHOOD, SISTERHOOD
THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE WE CALL GRAND CAMP
WORKING FOR ANB
THE GRANDSON OF A FOUNDER
WHAT ANB MEANS TO ME
VETS
NEVER A LAST DAY
FOUNDER’S DAY 2006
GATHERING AT THE HERRING ROCK IN SPRING
TLINGIT & HAIDA’S 7⁰th
TIMES OF STRUGGLE - MARTIN LUTHER KING DAY
NATIVE AWARENESS PARADE
MY WORLD
ALASKA NATIVE BROTHERHOOD AND TLINGIT HAIDA ARE MIXED
APRIL 19, 1999
JUNEAU AT TLINGIT & HAIDA ASSEMBLY, 2000
THE BIRD TAKES FLIGHT
REPORT TO SITKA ABOUT THE TLINGIT & HAIDA ASSEMBLY
EAGLE NEST HOUSE
IN CRAIG FOR TLINGIT & HAIDA 2001
PAUSE FOR CONSIDERATION
AGAIN ON KAKE
SYNOPSIS
ON TO HOONAH
A FERRY TRIP TO HOONAH
SOGGY MORNING IN HOONAH
WHAT’S IT LIKE AT GRAND CAMP?
MY HOONAH
ON THE WAY TO JUNEAU
NINETY FIRST ANB GRAND CAMP
THE 2004 GRAND CAMP REPORT
ANB/ANS 2005 CONVENTION
CHAPTER 2 HUNTING AND NATURE SEPTEMBER MORNING THOUGHT
AT SEA INTO THE NIGHT
PADDLING OVER MY WORLD
GLAD FOR NATURE
BEELINE FOR LAZARUS
SUBSISTENCE RESPONSIBILITIES
SHORE BIRDS
HUNTING
TO BE A GREAT HUNTER
WRITING THE MEANING - BIRDS
SINGING TALL ON A LOW BRANCH
MOSS GARDEN
INDIAN RIVER BRIDGE FISHING
THE SALMON BAKE
HUNTING LESSONS
WALK UP INDIAN RIVER
CHAPTER 3 SHELDON JACKSON INFLUENCE
THE WINDING STAIRS OF WHITMORE
FOUNDERS, CLASS OF ‘57
SHELDON JACKSON HISTORY
REUNION 2007
A TIME FOR SHARING
FOUNDER’S DAY 2007
BURSTING WITH PRIDE
WITH SUMMER WIND BLOWING
BOATBUILDERS AWARDS
SHELDON JACKSON BOAT BUILDING HERITAGE
ALUMNI OF SHELDON JACKSON
SUN—DRENCHED FRIDAY ON CAMPUS
SHELDON JACKSON THIS DAY
OVERSEEING YOUR VILLAGE
MY HOPE FOR YOU
FOOTPRINTS TO THE FUTURE
AASJ VICE PRESIDENT SPEAKS
VISIT THE SPIRIT
THE BATTLE
MONTE AND HELEN
CHAPTER 4 COMMUNITY RELATIONSHIPS REFLECTIVE TIMES
NEW YEAR
WHERE TO, NOW ?
JANUARY MOURNING
IN EAGLE RIVER
GRASPING THE CLIFF’S EDGE
VIGIL DEEP INTO THE NIGHT
SUMMER AND EARLY FALL OF 1995
CHRISTMAS 1998
PART OF MY LIFE RETURNS HOME
THE BOAT RIDE OUT OF TOWN
A FAIR CHANCE
CAFÉ RACER
MY LIFE’S OPEN WINDOW
SILENCE AS NO LONGER GOLDEN
A LUNCH TO BE REMEMBERED
FOURTH OF JULY 2005
ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN YEARS AND COUNTING
HONORING VETS
SAD DAY AT 402
OUR JOURNEY
NATIONAL CONFERENCE OF TRIBAL ARCHIVISTS
OKLAHOMA ADVENTURE
ADA OKLAHOMA
CATS AND BIRDS
CHAPTER 5 MUSIC MAKES THE MAN NOTES ON PRELUDE
DREAMS OF MARTIN STRAND FOR 1999 AND BEYOND
ANB CHRISTMAS TIMES 1999
MUSICALLY ENHANCED
CASIO KEYBOARD OPTIONS 12-07-98
WEDNESDAY IN REVERSE
TCHAIKOVSKY’S # 6 MONDAY
SEARHC PRAYER VIGIL
NORWEGIAN RELATIVES
THURSDAY MORNING WITH DAVID & MARTIN
TECHNICAL HAZARDS
MUSIC JUXTAPOSITION
SEEING MYSELF MORE CLEARLY
STILL MORE CLEARLY
CANDLE IN THE DARK
MUSICALLY RESTORED!
MARCH INTO THE FUTURE
RELATIONSHIP BLUES
AH, MUSIC
MUSIC OF THEIR LIVES
OUR SPRING CONCERT
SYMPHONY OF DEATH
CHAPTER 6 SPORTS THEY WERE LEGENDS IN THEIR OWN TIME
POOL AND RELOADING
POOL LEAGUE
ANOTHER BIRTHDAY PASSES
NINE BALL WISDOM
NINE BALL GAME
A FRESH, NEW OUTLOOK
CONCLUSION
DEDICATION
This book is written by Martin R. Strand, a Kaagwaantaan man named K’wách’ In memory of our ancestors and Tlingit elders Kiks.ádi & Kaagwaantaan and is lovingly dedicated to our grandchildren: Lila
Denali
Gary
Ben
Tyler
Shelby
FORWARD
Pat Sheahan
My friend Monty Wilson went to school with Martin and would almost always comment after an encounter with him, that, he has always marched to the beat of a different drum.
Martin Strand came off at first impression as peculiar. Known as Brother Martin he had a way of presenting himself at first with comedic one liners that disarmed and made new acquaintances feel comfortable. But it also made an impression that he had a silly disposition. In fact, Martin was observing and reflecting and appreciated everything and everyone around him with an astute sense, guided by the conviction that all were important, even sacred.
First impressions are often deceiving. Martin belonged to many groups and to many people. He didn’t always enjoy being front and center, however. Rather, he participated in his complicated social world with the ironic eye of an outsider looking in, simultaneously showing solidarity and yet sometimes feeling himself partly outside and on the margins. It is that rare combination, albeit contradictory, that gave him that blessed gift of poetry and artistry.
As to his work, Brother Martin is significant because his words and the images he captured represent an important but confusing time for some Sitkans, especially those that are residents year round over the course of decades. I will try to explain. Martin was old school
. He belonged to the Alaska Native Brotherhood (ANB) because his grandfather’s heart bled ANB
.
This group is itself an interesting combination of people, holding to tradition and embracing modern realities. Martin was a man in two worlds.
On the one hand, he was never as animated as when we went hunting and fishing in the traditional grounds around Sitka Sound. There he hunted seal and recalled trips with his family to fish camp when he was young. He took pride in his status at Dog Point Fish camp, where he had a bedroom dedicated to him for when he would come to teach any student who was interested in catching and preparing salmon. Martin taught me about marksmanship and ethics and friendship. We reloaded ammunition together and told stories and dreamed about future excursions.
What we caught, we shared. And we went to ANB meetings together. It was there that I witnessed his allegiance to his clan and to the memory of those Native peoples that had gone on before him. Martin’s identity is tied to the Kaagwaantaan clan and nothing made him more proud than that affiliation.
But Martin was a Renaissance man, too. He grew up in the cottages of Sheldon Jackson College, somewhat separate from the traditional native neighborhoods of Sitka. He may have been only a mile away, but Martin would pay a price of this separation by being on the fringes socially. The reward, however, was the chance to be mobile and to expand his opportunities.
He motorcycled across Canada and the U.S. He went to the University in Ohio. He learned piano, hustled people in pool halls, took up photography. At home, Martin ventured into radio broadcasting and computers. He enjoyed bicycles and socialized in any place that might be susceptible to a story in exchange for a cup of coffee or tea. He took up the art of peacemaking and mediation.
And he watched things carefully, documenting people, times and events with an eye toward tribute, not judgment. He was as apt to quote a French philosopher as he was a Native Elder. Watching Martin watch others, I have often wondered how those seas of influence converged in his mind. I believe he used his crafts as a way of maintaining sanity and letting things stand on their own merit. And we are the recipients of his creative compartmentalizing. Creative endeavor is by nature both limiting and expressive.
Martin Strand will also be remembered for being friendly. When I had coffee with him, I was amazed at how many people he knew by first name. He related to the young person serving ice cream at McDonalds’ with the same level of attention he would as someone with notoriety in town. He was gentle and saw the best in people and situations. The topics he wrote about and the subjects he photographed related to the average person in town.
And that is what made Martin so exceptional. His industry and unpretentious personality gave voice and honor to what others deemed ordinary and unworthy of celebration. We need caring people to help us see the intrinsic beauty and value of every day life. We needed Martin to be with us and yet apart so that he could respond to the cadence and syncopation of rhythms that at first seemed contradictory and tense.
We needed him to help us to stop, consider and find meaning in the routines of life. Martin marched to the beat of a different drum, but it was the cacophony of sounds that his town, state and nation provided him. Now we can reciprocate as friends do, by listening and learning from him.
AN EXPRESSION OF APPRECIATION
If Martin were writing this expression it would be as long as one of the books of the trilogy. It would include grandparents down to grandchildren, and every family person in between. It would include those whose eulogies have been presented in the third volume of the trilogy. It would include teachers, professors and students related to his formal education along with those who aided him in his cultural learning. It would include the Eagle and the Raven elders whom he held in great respect. It would include those who participated with him musically, or over a cup of coffee, or in camp activities and particularly those who aided him in his medical battles. Every fishing buddy, along with every hunting buddy along with every ‘gatherer’ would be included. It would include every citizen, or clan member of Sitka, a unique city located in Southeastern Alaska, the beauty of which can not be equaled. Martin was never exclusive.
As the editor I would like to thank Marcia for her long hours of search for his writings, his pictures and her holding together of the family. Our thanks is extended to James Poulson for the picture of Martin, to Henrietta VanMaanen, to Ronald Williams, to Dawn McAllister, proof-reader and occasional editor, and to Dick and Judy Marcum for their technical computer skills. And I extend to God thanks for the ability to put Martin’s thoughts together in these books.
Sincerely, Ken Smith, editor.
THE INTRODUCTION
BUILDING OF THE BOOK
Like a fish out of water I struggle to breath the breath of purpose. The possibility of my poetic work to reach a larger audience Has a strangeness of feeling that it might eventually happen. It never was my intention to put out a book of my work. That there are so many hoops I have to jump through is confusing to me.
I can see the value in such a project for my family and friends. I wonder what universal appeal my work could express to others? What in my poetic attitude would others see of value? Most of my effort is written on the same day of the event. The writing comes easily knowing great people I know.
Being a ‘memorial poet’ is perhaps what I do best. I rarely write about my own condition but feelings about others. I am not one to think on my feet as I have to taste my words. I get messages from my Tribal elders for reading my poems. They seem to think I should be more spontaneous expressing myself.
In the beginning of the day I want to be original in my speaking The people I meet in my travels deserve something new. I try to formulate something different in every day greetings. How are you?
they ask. Fair to poor with gusts to disgusting
is my quick reply.
A dramatic life appeals to me in meeting friends and others. Why not add something extra special in our daily walk? My mentors have played an important part in my life. I will speak in colorful ways without current vulgarity, Lots of reading sparks my communication skills.
In my formative years I excelled in speech and music. Missionary contacts lead the way to long for excellence. Perhaps, involvement in my church taught me to speak well. Radio and TV work caused me to learn great habits. It was a continuous learning journey I learned to love.
A long list of mentors paved the way to my eventual work. Every success I had gathered much praise from my Elders. My church, in not so subtle ways, guided me forward. Mother Lila, highly educated, gave me the inspiration I needed. She exposed me to the world’s finest piano music. I often think of my life as a whole city. My precincts of thought wander down streets and alleys Filling my mind of poetic thoughts on a daily basis. I can scarcely leave my front door without capturing a picture. My camera, an extension of my mind reaches outward.
There is a question about the camera images I make. It is in an historical nature I photograph the passing scenes. The daily changes that move from season to season thrill me. This year, sadly, I missed the important shore bird migration. So tuned to Nature this is part of my life style.
The poetic side of images gather in my dreams so often In picture and word they visit my life constantly. I often wonder if I am wordsmith or camera man. If I am to publish my work which one will be dominant? Can I combine the two efforts into one publication?
These are some of my thoughts flashing past my mind today. Your help, dear reader, is much appreciated by Marcia and myself. I have many questions about making initial efforts in this regard. The machinery of it all attacks my mind in urgent ways. But it is a bright ray of hope in presenting my work.
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