Growing up Alaskan

The Girl by the Lake

The glacier an unnatural blue and deathly cold. It was large enough that our mother convinced us we would be unable to get around it in one day, so we never tried. We never swam in it. Rather, it was something to behold, respectfully and from a distance, like an untamed animal.

The camp sites above the shoreline were cozy and spacious. In those days they never filled up. It was before camping became a craze among the circles of tired parents needing to get out of the house, with its endless chores and social media sucking up every moment of life. 

My mother loved camping. She saw it as a sacred human experience of the highest order. In the woods she could live as people were meant to live, uninhibited, without boundaries around them. Her favorite song was “Don’t Fence Me In,” and I can still see her hoping around the kitchen as she cruned the lyrics. Maybe that’s why she made the decision to move to Alaska-all that open space called to her and she couldn't resist.

It is by the lake that my story begins. It was mid afternoon my family was relaxing down by the shore. We all decided to go up and play cards, while my grandma said she would stay. Three-year old Annie said she wanted to stay with Grandma. Grandma fell asleep for some time, and when she came back up to the camp an hour later Annie was not with her. We decided she must have gone to sleep in the tent, but she wasn’t there. For a time we were simply puzzled, where could she have gone? The shoreline was not wide and when we looked left and right along the lakeshore we could see nothing but the smooth, round rocks circling the water. Suddenly we realized, Annie was lost. The nearest phone was over an hour’s drive away, and the territory was wild bear country. All at once, we started to panic. My Dad jumped in the car with my older sister and went for help. The nearest ranger station was hours away. He tore out of that camp ground like an Indy driver. Meanwhile Mom and the rest of us stayed back at the campsite to look for our lost little girl. We didn’t have a plan, we just called and called till we were hoarse and we asked everyone we saw, “Did you see a blonde little girl? She’s lost. Please tell us if you see a little girl. We’re at campsite nine. Thank you!” As time went by, we didn’t bother to hide the fear in our voices. “Pray the Rosary” my Mom told  us. There weren’t a lot of people at the campsite to help, and we felt relieved when we saw a group of men come our way. They might be able to help us. When my mom saw the guns and leaned they were hunters, she sat down at a picnic table and just looked helpless. She started praying, and she told me later that something I had said popped into her head, “Hey Mom, why don’t we go to daily Mass anymore, you know, like we did during Lent?”

Sitting at that picnic table, my Mom did something a person should never do who doesn’t want their life changed, she made a promise to God. “Lord, if we find our little Annie . . . I promise to take the whole family to Mass . . . everyday . . .”  In the same breath with which she made the prayer, she gave a little cry of hope as she looked up and saw a Ranger Truck. The Ranger had a radio. With the radio he called for help and a helicopter was sent up to see if they could get a visual on Annie. After what seemed like an eternity, they spotted her from the helicopter, miles down the narrow beach. It was getting late and they said we had to hope she didn’t go into the woods. As long as they could keep a visual on her, they would be able to send someone in on foot to carry her back to us. That night, at around 11pm, as the late Alaskan sun was about to set, we saw a man coming towards us with a little girl on his shoulder. I remember that moment vividly as we ran up to Annie and grabbed her from the stunned ranger. 

She had been gone for 7 hours. Now she was home! And our family would never be the same again.