Alaska

When I was seventeen, the summer in between my junior and senior year of high school, which was the year 1990, I took a teen tour to Alaska. I didn’t mean to take a teen tour to Alaska. It happened because my mom’s very close friend’s daughter, Polly, decided she wanted to do a volunteer work summer trip, not to St. Lucia, or the Dominican Republic, but rather to Alaska. Minto, Alaska, to be exact. I could not even justify or remember in any sensible way why I decided to play copy cat to my friend, whom later, I found out, might have likely chosen Minto, Alaska as her summer destination exactly in order to avoid me. I was insecure enough that when I found a buddy who was going away on a trip with the same organization, and my mom told me that was where Polly had chosen, I just impulsively said, that’s where I wanna go too. What ensued in the six weeks we were away was truly bananas. And treacherous. And weird. Here is the story:

I grew up in New York City and went to a private school. We are a liberal, equal opportunity old New York family. Part of my Upper West Side upbringing were lively political and cultural dinner time conversations among diverse and talented, and sometimes famous dinner guests. The Civil Rights movement, the Holocaust, and discussions about race and equality were always on the menu. My spiffy education, and very outspoken mother, a writer, taught me to hold on to my own seat at the table. Since this is not…