Saturday in Anchorage having just arrived back in the most populated city in Alaska I thought it was high time to venture out on my own. Portland has the corner on public transit and Anchorage while being far better than Norfolk took a bit of time to figure out. Finally making it downtown dropped off on the corner of C Street I did what I usually do when exploring a new city...walk with no direction.
As an aside: There are moments when an unspoken idea grips me and I have to meander along until it makes itself clear. For example during Advent I felt like I should go to the Abby and after having arrived walking up the steps three deer eating blocked the walk way so we stood in silence for thirty minutes observing. When the moment was broken I drove back to the ranch knowing I had experienced what I had come to experience.
So meandering down the sidewalk a fur shop can into view and no longer being of the P.E.T.A. persuasion I stepped into the shop. Within seconds the introduction was made by the older Asian looking gentleman, apparently the owner of the shop. He was sitting in front of a wall filled with foreign currency, strangely not an odd site in Alaska. Immediately I came across the Mongolian currency and I pointed it out. Which of course prompted mutual inquiry and dialogue.
As the fates would have it he was a native Alaskan and by native I mean grew up in an Eskimo village in the bush. Joined the military under Harry S. Truman and served in the Pacific under MacArthur (before Truman sacked the general calling him a "dumb son of a bitch"). This gentleman, whom I'll call affectionately "the Eskimo" because his name I can't pronounce or spell, is not the poster child for native Americans of any stripe. It would take a vast amount of space to describe in full but he is an articulate, traveled, educated, gentleman....with a strange sensuality. When one thinks of sensuality one thinks of Mediterranean cultures or exotic Persians. Not articulate traveled Eskimo fur traders. Like with all well traveled older gentleman the course turned to my travels and then life lessons from those who have gone before. He bombarded me with questions such as: Where did you spend your first 20 years? Why are you going to Tanzania? Where did you learn to speak so well who is responsible for that? and the formative question which turned into life lessons "Are you at peace?"
The main point he attempted to drive home is that "one look is worth a hundred readings" ~ Confucius . He encouraged me to use my "good legs" and see everything for myself for to only view the world through pages is a partial and incomplete view... "Stand before the Mona Lisa!" "Stand in the middle of Ulanbattar" Of course these aren't ideas I don't know but it was an encouragement to hear it from an older "successful" man. When a drunk on the streets tells you to keep the faith and keep moving around it's disregarded as quickly as the dollar you just relinquished. But from a man of substance it lasts.
We spoke of Rembrandt whom he called "a personal friend" no doubt from the 35 times in St. Petersburg. He told me how to approach African women and despite the "aristocratic way they hold their neck" to pass on any romantic liaisons. And in the end of the conversation, mostly due to the fact I'd had one to many cups of coffee. He told me my English was very good but it had to much Richmond, to much Billy Graham, too much Ronald Reagan. He said i should rub shoulders with the Oxford and Cambridge educated in order to refine my English.
Sages, priests, and teachers can be found anywhere...sometimes they come in the form of Eskimo fur traders in Anchorage, AK.
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