By KLAS STOLPE
Pure Sole
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... Nope, that’s been used.
Call me Ishmael... hmm, used and might cause some appropriation rants.
I’m a little tea pot short and stout… Very well known but perhaps too, um, childish?
Maybe I should just tip back my felt fedora with the crumpled “PRESS” card tucked into the brim… hang my trench coat on the wooden rack behind the door… ignore the lunch stains on my white shirt… loosen my neck tie… place the ignited stogie off to the side of my vintage Royal typewriter… reach in the desk drawer for a quick nip… and begin the clickety-clack-clack of fingers on manual keys dancing under a slow-moving piece of white paper on the carriage at the back.
Very cool.
And very old school.
While my thoughts remain in that old-timey vein, you may know my method of delivery has been more baseball cap, ASAA lanyard, sweat pants, Power Bar, Diet Dr. Pepper and Mac Book Pro.
When I saw you here, Sitka, I didn’t know what to expect.
Growing up, I had heard tales of the large oaken athletes who roamed the rock.
In my youth, I had met a few on the fields of battle and fallen swiftly.
Yet now you took me by surprise.
I found compassion in your strength and that relationship bore fruit.
OUR kids inspire me to venture outside and leave me longing to return.
I have not tired of you.
Once you have traveled on both sides of the John O’Connell Bridge your fate is sealed.
You are Braves and Wolves, Barracudas and herring, Redoubt and Sandy Beach, Cross Trail and Bear Mountain, the USCG and Pioneers Home, Sitka Tribe and Russian Mission, a science center, performing arts and music festival… why, even the Assembly and School Board.
Yes, my ink dried on each at some point, my lens focused without judgment, and thank God my editor corrected any mess it formed.
I have become a better player by being here, and a better teammate.
My contract wasn’t terminated.
I wasn’t sent away on waivers, didn’t void my no-trade clause and wasn’t traded for future draft picks.
I didn’t hold out for bigger bucks or search the league for a team that was more championship-ready.
Nope.
I had everything I needed right here.
You gave me everything I needed to be happy.
All I had to do was listen to what you had to say, and watch what you were doing.
It was all so simple and pure.
Like a walk in the morning along the docks, an afternoon in the forest or an evening at a game.
Just us.
There was an attraction.
I know you felt it, too.
Then why am I leaving?
Sometimes the only way we grow is to leave home, sometimes we only grow when we come back, sometimes we grow when others make us feel like we are home.
I will miss every square inch of gymnasium floor, turf field, dirt track, rooted trail, and hallowed hall you welcomed me into.
There are so many who impacted my life here.
I came to help and it was you who helped me.
No words, whether brazenly tapped on a keyboard or tearfully formed by antique cursive stylings, can do justice to you.
You are the best of Southeast, the class of Alaska… why, if I wasn’t born and raised in Little Norway I would call you the Petersburg of the coast.
So I just tip my hat, give a pleasant nod, a small wave.
Until we meet again.
Until you read something I write or until I see something you or yours have done…
Until then...
The sun has gone to bed and so must I.
So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye!
