Yesterday after what seemed like the hundredth time I refreshed Facebook to look for updates on the override vote or the fire, I resolved to get off social media for awhile. I was just churning out impotent rage. My self-imposed exile lasted less than 24 hours, but I came here to say this:
I’m not leaving.
Or at least when I do, it will be on my own terms.
It’s easier said than done when John’s job is on the line, when 95% of my community is affiliated with or employed by UAF, when the world is burning. (Literally and figuratively! We keep saying this like it’s a joke! But it’s true.)
I love Fairbanks, my version of it. And the best part about my Fairbanks is the people, my people. If you’re reading this, that probably means you. You are my people.
Living in Seattle for the decade of what basically amounted to the entirety of my young adult life, it took me almost five years to really find my people, but when I did, I felt like I owned the world: happy hours, movie nights, camping trips on the coast and Cascades, sailboats, beaches, brunches, singing with the Chorale - it was a dream life.
Leaving the city and returning to Alaska was like a death, and I spent much of the first few years back in Fairbanks in mourning for that urban adventurous life before children.
It’s taken me even longer to feel like I’ve found my community in Fairbanks, but I have. And I feel like I own the world again. I sing, make art, read books, and go camping with friends, and I have people over for dinner even with a messy house. And my kids play in the woods and go to dance camp and Calypso Farm and Wild Rose and Denali with your kids, and the world is magical. And every time I start to listen to the siren song of the PNW that calls me back, the thing that stops me is you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave this community that we have made together.
You make this place special. You make the arts scene welcoming. You make book clubs fun. You make bonfires a sacred rite of fall. You grow food that feeds my family and makes me feel connected to this place. You are a superhero parent and just a gosh darn good person. You make me laugh and cheer when I see you on stage. You make me want to canoe every river and hike every dome of this magnificent state. You make downtown cool again. You make me feel like my kids have a second home. You make our little slice of Fairbanks seem cosmopolitan. You make the community better by serving in public office, or by being a fantastic teacher, or principal, or archeologist, social worker, or just by living here. You make Fairbanks better.
So stay here with me. Because I’m not leaving. I’m going to help whoever runs against Tammie Wilson (but hey, thanks for at least showing up to vote in Juneau) and Talerico in their next races. And I’m going to support Grier and Scott and whoever actually shows up to help our state from hemorrhaging its people, its resources, and prosperity. Can you hemorrhage prosperity? I don’t care. All I’m saying is that the future looks dire, but the fight isn’t over and I want you to stay because you are a part of what makes this state a great place to live. Stay with me. I’m not leaving.
