I’m not sure why, but Alaska seems to attract a lot of–to put it tactfully–“colorful” personalities. They especially seem to accumulate in the bush. Perhaps it’s a Last Frontier thing, what with the rugged individualism and all. I suppose it’s to be expected that anyone who would purposely make their abode in a place that can get colder than winter on the backside of Saturn has to be a few beans short of a burrito.
Not that that’s a bad thing. I always thought burritos had too many beans in them anyway. At any rate, I’ll never forget some of the Alaskans I’ve met and known. Their quaint personalities, their idiosyncrasies and their eccentric behavior add texture to my nostalgia. Many of them will be a part of me for as long as I wake up screaming in the middle of the night.
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