In the summer of 1994, I had the privilege of moving to Fairbanks, Alaska. Having grown up in inland northern California, I knew I was in for a different way of life when I got there, but I was surprised and pleased at what I found—because although life in Interior Alaska is demanding, it’s also rewarding. But it isn’t for everyone, and for many people after a few years, the demands seem to outweigh the rewards.
That’s why, in the summer of 1999, my wife—whose career with the National Weather Service had brought us to Alaska—sought a new job with the agency, this time in the Atlanta area, just a few hours’ drive from her family in Chattanooga. It was another major change in lifestyle, but the act of leaving Alaska and crossing two countries was itself a major undertaking.
Regrettably, the pictures I took during this journey, few as they were, were ruined by a camera malfunction when I tried to retrieve the film for processing. I apologize for there not being any images to spice up the reading. If I ever have this opportunity again, I now have a digital camera.
July 1999
Chris and I learned of our upcoming move to Georgia when she got a call on July 12 from John Feldt, the hydrologist-in-charge at the Southeast River Forecast Center in Peachtree City (about 25 miles south of Atlanta), asking if she would accept, if offered, a position other than the one she had applied for. After listening to the details of the offer, Chris agreed to accept—if the offer could in fact be made. Since the National Weather Service is a federal agency, nothing it does is ever final until several layers of red tape have been wound around it.
Many days later, on the 20th, most of the red tape had been applied, and Mr. Feldt announced that Chris was to be appointed to a hydrologist position at the SERFC, effective in September.
As July draws to a close, we’re working on the extensive list of things that need to be done to prepare for this move. The government will make the arrangements for getting our belongings down to metro Atlanta, so that’s one major headache we’re spared. However, we have to get our house on the market, and we have a lot of things we need to sell, including the car (nicknamed The Sardine Can) I was driving before we got the Bronco. Fortunately, an effort we began just before learning of Chris’ new job—that of turning our unsightly yard into something remotely resembling a lawn—seems to be working out. Several days of consistently rainy weather seem to have given the lawn what it needs to sprout and start growing fast. I’m glad I got the lawn mower fixed.
There are some things we’re going to miss when we go. We did enjoy the cold weather and snow, if we could have enjoyed even more having somewhat less of it. We’ll miss the way North Pole turns Christmas from an occasion into an actual place, especially during the Christmas season. We’ll miss the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race, which is for Interior residents a more laid-back local alternative to the overhyped Iditarod (although Alaska mystery writer Sue Henry, who debuted with Murder on the Iditarod Trail, has now penned a new mystery titled Murder on the Yukon Quest).
We will of course miss the friends we’ve made up here, though thank God (not Al Gore) for the Internet because it will make it that much easier to stay in touch with them. Chris has become involved in the North Pole chapter of Women of the Moose, holding an appointed position since last April. I’ve been Treasurer of the Interior Taxpayers Association since last November, and served as Vice President before that.
For now, we have realtors to meet with, touch-ups and fix-ups to get done, and things to sell.
