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A lot of people have supported me very strongly in my writing. It would probably be impossible to list everyone and thank them all individually, but I can still try.

Dearest Jennie,

You and I are abandoned ships, floating in this sea independently, not being able to ride the currents together. I am glad to have reconnected with you. You are an incredible joy to talk to, even in this crazy online world. I appreciate your support on my goals. I am famously horrible at following through with these things, but you don’t seem to notice, nudging me slightly to do what I need to do. Thank you.

Someday, we may both find ourselves tied up in the same harbor, finally together. But I’m not certain of that. Perhaps we were only meant to meet and be friends from afar, one chance encounter and then a series of rediscoveries. Regardless of the universe’s plans, I look forward to knowing you throughout this life.

Many hugs, my little lapin,
Brian

Mom,

Okay, I hear you. I need to write. Don’t get me wrong, I really do appreciate the reminders that someone likes my writing. For a long time, I thought you only said these things out of motherly obligation. I am beginning to switch that thought over. It seems that someone who reads as much as you do wouldn’t encourage me to fail. You must really think I have a talent for this. Thank you for that faith. It is very important to me to know that you want me to succeed — and that you think I can.

Don’t stop encouraging me. I sometimes forget what my goals have been. Remind me as often as it seems necessary. You keep me focused on my task.

I love you,
Brian

Oh, Travis,

You are all too often the little voice in my head. I hate that about you and I love that about you. I’m always saying to myself “don’t be sorry, change your actions,” a useful reminder and life lesson. More often than that, I keep remembering that I could have written a book by now, another helpful reminder from you. You nag me to get things done. I really do appreciate that.

Thanks,
Brian

“Meems”

How odd that I would want to thank you for encouraging me to write. You didn’t think there would be enough money in it to justify it as a career. I know you didn’t mean it to be hurtful, but sometimes it was. It felt like you were reserving some of your approval until you could see success in this goal. What I took away from this, however, was a strong desire to prove you wrong. I haven’t yet, but someday I hope to still. To me, it now seems that your wariness of writing as a profession was a type of encouragement. Thank you.

Brian

{I think I will break this part up into a couple more parts. I’d like to thank many others, but will stop for now.}

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27.7

Through the dirty pane of glass
I see the lingering snow —
an ever shrinking mass of white.
It’s April and I wonder how much
longer I will be alone.
My head has hurt for a week now
and I can barely stay calm in a job
that seems to have become a prison.

I am calm. I am resolved.
The love is enough; the love
from my family of new friends
(fellow refugees, struggling to
find themselves)
They soothe me and I feel
less angry about failure.

The snow will stick
for a few more weeks.
The grass is displacing patches
here and there — this guest
is no longer welcome.

I am standing here
at my kitchen door,
ready to take to the air;
ready to break free and
start this next phase.
I inhale deeply,
but I do not move.

4.11.2007

Thoughts to people I’ve had on my mind lately. I don’t expect these people to read this, but I wanted my thoughts out there. I also don’t want anyone to feel left out. I have a lot of people in my life and a lot of love to give. Don’t take it personally if I didn’t mention you.

David: You know what I think about you and how I wish you could be content. I am so pained by the hurt you go through, as if I have somehow become an extension of you — an additional limb you don’t really want to deal with. I don’t mean to care so strongly, but I’m not sure I can reverse and love you less. You are a good person who deserves all the things you want, even if you sometimes want them too much. I want to stare into your face for hours. It soothes me and is familiar; you make me feel at home.

Bradley: You’ve endured such pain. I am sorry you’ve had to go through such a terrible time. You are a great person and I know that wherever your life takes you, good things are possible. I hope you realize the blessings in your life and cherish them.

Heather: You put up with too much from me (you put up with too much from everybody). I appreciate your concern about me and know that you really do care. That means a lot. I have tried to distance myself from you a little lately and I am sorry if it has seemed like rejection. It isn’t. I still care about you as much as always, but feel like we needed a bit of a break. I don’t think that anymore. I have been so lucky to have you as a friend.

Grant: I am worried that we have failed to connect recently. I have really tried to open up to you as a friend, but held back a little. I find it difficult to relate to men who aren’t gay, which is horrible of me. I feel like I am disappointing you at work and I hate it. Working for you is the only reason I am still at the store. I want to work for/with you, not only because you are a great guy to be around, but also because you know how to manage a store.

Jacci: You have so much to give. I wish I could just accept it and allow you into my life more. I don’t know if I am scared of something or what, but I just can’t seem to let my guard down around you. I am trying.

Mom: I feel like my journey has caused unnecessary stress for you. I know you don’t understand why I needed to be in Alaska — I don’t really either, but the last thing I ever wanted was to be further away from you. You are one of my closest friends and I wish I could be more open with you. I also worry about you a great deal. I wish I could see you every single day.

People I miss (in no particular order): Jess C, Jess F, Justin, Becky, Meghan, Jill, Jeff, Marla, Serenity, The Kim, Dad, Lori, Ed, Sharon, Stan, G, Annie, Laurisa, Samantha, Kendra, Mimi, Valeri, JoBeth, Ray, Opie, Geri, Jerry, Travis, Conner, Tim, Kathy, Mary C, Mary, Ann, Mom, JD, Jason, Jennie, Elisabeth, Emily, Matt A, Ken, Shauna, Gordon, KC, John H, James, Debbie, Molly, Avery, May, Riley, Jason M, Brent, Bryce, Cara, Paul, Patrick, David E, David M

I know that frustration will only cause me more problems and I can’t live with it. I have to move on and become who I am right now. Life is far too short to accept pain. Having almost literally counted my blessings, it seems that I must realize how lucky I am. And I do know that. I hope all of this means I am moving forward.Continue Reading

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It was March 10, 2002 — a Sunday morning. I was at work, shelving a cart in the corner of the store where the history, biography, & social sciences sections were kept. I had paused for a moment to read the inside flap on the book.  I had taken entirely too much time looking decided to place it on hold for myself so I could look at it later. I took it to the front and placed it on the employee hold shelf. Bettina announced that I had a phone call. I knew it would be my parents and it irritated me that they could never figure out to not call me before we open.

When I answered the phone, it was my dad. There were no pleasantries; he simply said I needed to leave work and drive to Stillwater immediately. Not really catching on to the tone, I informed him that I couldn’t leave work, but wanted to know what was going on. “Mimi has been taken to the hospital and is probably not going to make it.” That still breaks my heart. My brain went numb and my eyes blurry. I said I would leave and be there as soon as possible. As soon as I hung up, I went back to the office, told Bettina I needed to go, and fell apart. She comforted me, telling me not to worry about work and instructing me to do what I needed to do. I left work, went home to let Justin (who was my roommate at the time) know where I’d be, and rushed to Stillwater. On the way, my cousin Becky called to make sure I knew what was going on.

I arrived in Stillwater about an hour and a half after the initial phone call. As I walked in, I was met by my mom, who was bawling. The entire tone of the house was energetic and sad — each family member’s arrival starting the tears over again.

“Mimi” is my mom’s mom, Bonita Christine “Chris” Tucker. She was the matriarch of our family; the force that connected us all and kept us together. She orchestrated every event that brought us together, reminded us to connect with one another, and nagged us all mercilessly. Mimi was an extremely confident woman who knew who she was. She was totally devoted to her husband, her God, & the other members of her church. She was generous with her money and her time, but was never afraid to tell you her opinion on what you were doing. Evidently, there wasn’t enough money to be made as a writer to justify her supporting it. I cherished talking to her. I would sit with her and talk about people for hours… she knew absolutely everything going on in Stillwater. But it never seemed like gossip. Mimi was a very good-hearted person.

By the time I arrived in Stillwater, she had passed away. After the watery greetings from my mom and aunt, I settled in with my brothers and cousin — those I always hang out with when everyone is together. Star, my grandparents’ cat, was the hero of this story. Even though he was unable to save her, he did what he could. Apparently, he went to my grandpa (Papa), woke him up, and led him to where Mimi had fallen. We suspect either a massive heart attack, stroke, or aneurysm, as her arms were still by her side and she hadn’t tried to stop her fall.

Bonita
on viewing my Mimi’s body

She looks perfect,
her familiar red dress matched
beautifully with the soft pink lining,
the red heart draped around her neck.
As if she’d just come in
from church for a nap —
a lazy Sunday afternoon,
shy lay resting — calm, peaceful.
Tears stream down my grandpa’s
too often stoic face.
His wife — the woman he
devoted his entire life to —
his best friend.
“She really is a beautiful lady.”

Brian Fuchs 3.12.2002

That week was surreal. I still don’t remember much of it. Of course, it culminated in a beautiful funeral. I had gone back home to Tulsa to get some clothes and for the funeral I chose the shirt she had just given me for Christmas. The shirt was a gold knit with a collar. I wore khaki pants. I wouldn’t have felt right in dark colors and I really wanted to celebrate life. The funeral was made that much more difficult when I discovered that my cousins’ nanny was sitting with them and I couldn’t sit with my immediate family because of it. Furthermore, I ended up next to my mom’s friend, who had apparently not figured out that I was an adult and kept talking to me as if I were a child.

When the funeral was over, my two best friends came up to me and asked if I was okay. I had really been fine all week, only crying on Sunday morning. I shook my head no and buried myself in their arms and cried. I felt like the world had just ended. A few days later, I left on a trip with them, where I was able to sort through things slowly throughout the next week. Which isn’t to say I felt any better about it all.

untitled (‘100 days’)

It’s been one hundred days
and if feels like it all happened
just this morning.
I’m starting to realize she’s gone —
finally missing her and ultimately
knowing I can never see her again.

I hate that morning —
when Mimi died.
Loneliness overtook me and
pain was invited in.
All I needed was a hug
from Bettina, JD, Travis, Becky,
Mom — but they weren’t there.
I’m cold inside and sad.
I miss her.

Brian Fuchs 6.18.2002

It took a long time to accept that Mimi was gone. I imagine I will have that hole in my heart for the rest of my life. I haven’t even been able to return to her house for any length of time and feel comfortable. That always makes me feel guilty because I do want to visit Papa, who is remarried, but there is too much history in that place. But it is also important to remember that I got to know Mimi. I had the amazing opportunity to be a member of a family with her at the head.

That is when I first realized my life had become about death. It had only been 447 days since my grandma Fuchs (“G”) had passed away. Since then, I have lost 2 friends and 2 great-grandmothers. I am ready to have my life defined by something else; be defined by love or friendship or family. I have felt rather selfish about these deaths over these past 6 years. They are important to me, but moving on is much more important.

21 March 2007Continue Reading

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3+17+1997=10 or “Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.” -Frank O’Hara

This might mean nothing to anyone but me, but it felt important to share it. Today, St Patrick’s Day, 2007, marks the 10th anniversary of me coming out to my friends as gay. It has been quite a journey, but this is an account of what happened before. To understand the full extent of where I am, it is important to first understand where I was. This poem by Frank O’Hara expresses it in ways I couldn’t.

February

The scene is the same,
and though I try to imagine
plinking starry guitars,

and while I spend my
time listening to a foreign
contralto sing the truth,

the earth is everywhere,
brown and aching. At first
it seemed that this life

would be different: born
again in someone else’s
arms, after seasons of childhood

and error and defense.
I thought freshly and tried
to change the color of my

habit. New metrics would be
mine in this excess of
love! but I was a braggart

to hope so. My old hurts
kept attacking me at odd
moments, after too many

songs, on public conveyances,
in the blue light of bars. Ah!
I cried, do not blame me,

save your temper for the
others! and at the same instant
in the same breath cried,

break me! I dare you, for
which of us am I? you will
break yourself! And this

became only too true, the
worst of all possible vistas,
my lone dark land.

–Frank O’Hara

That was me. It still is from time to time, wondering how my life is really different and hoping that I have really changed — grown. I was lost. I had desperately tried to force myself into someone I am not, agrily trying to “not be gay.”

The feeling that I was different started as early as 5 or 6. I didn’t know how, but I felt like there was something about me that wasn’t “normal.” What’s more, as a young child, I knew that there were things I needed to hide from my parents — things they wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how we come to these conclusions. My first crush on a boy happened in 4th grade, but I didn’t think much of it.

I remember a number of times during church activities, specifically Bible Bowl, when I would drift off into my own world of introspection, wondering how much love I would find in these people if they knew this awful truth about me. I pretended to have crushes, marking my papers with the most obvious name, hoping to be caught pining for one of my teammates. I quickly became outspoken over my disdain for the public education system’s willingness to teach homosexuality as acceptable. I was turning on myself and was only 14.

The one thing I took away from that part of my life was self-loathing. And I could have ended up with some great experiences and memories, but the pain of being something you don’t want to be was very difficult to deal with.

A couple years later, I found myself washing dishes daily at my first job. I had gotten in through a series of somewhat unusual events, but was enjoying it greatly. I had started to realize that I would have to face this part of myself. I couldn’t hide behind hatred any longer, but I was terrified at what that would mean.

The climate of the world for gays was very different in 1995 & 1996. From my teenaged perspective, it seemed like the dark ages. I didn’t want to indetify with them. There were no gay characters on television, no role models. If I were to accept being gay as who I actually am, I felt that I would be giving up; giving in to what I had been taught to believe is wrong. Furthermore, I was saying to the world that I accepted that I would have no place to fit in; no safe place to run to when life became too much.

Let me back up for just a second. I don’t actually remember my parents (or their parents) having ever spoken about the issue of homosexuality. I never had reason to believe they had thought about it at all. Neither do I recall any lessons in church concerning it. I remember lessons on love and compassion, but never about how wrong gays were. My lessons on this subject were from specific people, friends, who had “moral” objections to certain “lifestyle choices.” I didn’t want to be anything that would upset these people.

I was feeling rather exhausted about the whole issue and was no longer doing well in school. I spent my days worrying about turning into this pariah I didn’t want to be, all the while sitting in the car with my friends, or over at their house, a little removed from the group… from the situation. I was starting to feel like I was enormous, trapsing around people’s houses, hopind desperately to blend in and not be noticed, but failing. I started to discuss issues with my coworker and friend, hoping to find wisdom in her words. It turned out to not be so easy.

In June 1996, I made one of the weirdest mistakes of my life. I went on a class trip to France for 2 weeks. The teacher going with us was unable to attend at the last minute, due to a medical emergency, and I was left with a group of students, all a year older than me, who wouldn’t even talk to me or include me in their group… and the teacher wouldn’t be there. My 2 weeks in France would basically be on my own. And so they were. I befriended a few people from a group from Idaho, but basically did my own thing. As long as I was on the bus when I was supposed to be, nobody seemed to take much notice.

Everything was going great, until a rainy day in Paris. There wasn’t much we could go do that evening, but the guys I was sharing a room with went to hang out with the girls, so I was alone… with my thoughts… and having been in France for a few days, the newness having worn off, I was thinking about the same things that kept me sad and angry at home. That night I accepted it. I didn’t like it, but I realized that I couldn’t be anyone but who I am. The rest of the trip was very hard; I barely enjoyed myself. I would hang out with the bus driver, Kamal, or our tour guide, Arnaud, at almost every stop. I didn’t feel like I should be there anymore.

My biggest regret about that trip is not hiding my bitterness when I returned home. My family and friends were waiting at the gate to greet me; I was so happy to see them. But I was difficult and cranky and spoiled the mood for everyone.

I spent most of my senior year trying to convice people I was straight. But a huge weight had been lifted. The distraction that made the previous year so hard was gone, but I would eventually need to tell someone else.

Travis, one of my two best friends, had spent spring break in Mexico (I think), leaving myself and JD to spend a fun filled week of working more hours at our jobs. We did want to do something though, so we spent the week at my uncle’s cabin just outside of town. Travis returned that weekend and we all hung out on Sunday. I was a little down; Travis could tell. I drove home, talking to Travis on the CB (yes, it’s true) the entire way. He had followed me and pulled in behind me at my house. He and I talked about things. I wasn’t really ready to tell him everything, but I told him that I could never see myself marrying a woman and having kids with her. If felt like enough for that moment. He was very comforting, much more so than most friends. He told me that JD had asked if Travis thought I was gay. Travis laughed it off as a silly notion. I felt extremely exposed.

The next day was my favorite holiday of the year, St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t know why I love it, but I do. The first thing I did in my first class was to write a letter, expressing to both Travis & JD how I felt and about who I am. I told them of the many days, wanting to no longer live. I told them how painful it had been to let them down. And I told them that I am gay. I couldn’t face them, knowing that I was losing my two best friends.

I had an eye appointment and then work after school. I was almost finished at work when Travis & JD showed up. I tried to avoid them, but they seemed angry. I just walked out to the parking lot, letting them follow me. I intended to go home and forget the day had ever happened. But my car was missing. Defeated, I got into Travis’ car. We drove around a little; they told me they had gotten permission from my mom to keep me away all night. They told me that they didn’t care that I am gay, but they were angry that I had been so depressed and didn’t tell them.

Somehow, we ended up at Red Lobster, where they continued to assure me that they still loved me. It felt nice, but was painful at the same time. We drove around for a long time, talking (I was crying). I think I stayed at Travis’ that night. And that was it. It was done. I didn’t have to hide myself anymore. The last few months we lived in Stillwater were the happiest as a teenager that I can remember. Life had been so painful for me for so long.

A month later, Ellen Degeneres came out, bursting the doors wide open for gay men and women everywhere. It felt good to be a part of something from the begining. It still does.

I didn’t tell my family for a long time after this, but I will save that for another time. It deserves the same attention.

Today, I am very happy with who I am. It feels so good to be me and I am glad I came out when I did. I hope that there is a day when being gay doesn’t break children into secrecy. I hope that day comes soon.

St Patrick’s Moon

St Patrick’s moon shone
gently on us as we left
Texas, back to our lives.
The brief stays seem sad
and this was the last visit
with all of us single.

St Patrick’s moon shone
on the new baby — born
to make some forget
the tragedy its birthday
marked — the sadness of
this anniversary of death.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the just-cracked blinds
on Laurisa’s face — the new
life growing within her body.
More family, more joy,
more love to make us forget.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the rear window of
JD’s car onto my face as
I smiled. My life seems
to be getting closer to real.
I laughed a little because
life can be so wonderful.

Brian Fuchs (3.17.2003)

17 March 2007Continue Reading

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Life can really slap you in the face sometimes. I got a gentle reminder that I am not in control on Monday. My brother called me at work; I knew something was wrong, since he had never called me at work before. “Don’t freak out,” he said, “but Dad had another heart attack. He is fine; they flew him to Mercy Hospital in [Oklahoma] City.”

Don’t freak out? Is it ever possible to not freak out when you are told not to freak out? Of course, the first thing I thought of is that I hope Mom doesn’t reach for a bottle. That just wouldn’t help anything, but knew that it was a strong possibility. Brent gave me all the information he had and told me that he would keep me posted. I was pretty much useless the rest of the day at work.

When I got home, I called Brent. Everything seemed to have gone smoothly. The heart attack started around 1:00 p.m. & by 3:45 p.m. they had finished putting in a stent at a hospital 60 miles away. My dad had wanted to play a joke on my mom at the hospital. He wanted the nurse to get him a toe tag and pull the sheet up over his head for her arrival. She would not have been amused, so I am thankful that the nurse refused. I do, however, find it funny myself.

I finally talked to him that evening. He sounded fine & had plenty of energy. What scares me is that it was a massive attack and his doctor said he was lucky to have gone to the hospital when he did; he might not have survived otherwise. I am not ready at all for something like that to happen. Not only can I not imagine losing one of my parents, but mine are both great friends and people I would want to know even if I wasn’t related to them. They are good people, wonderfully naïve about the indecencies in the world. Wholesome.

It has really made me think though. I guess this is a typical reaction — the assessment of the family bond and the closeness to those who just went through whatever ordeal. “Why?” has never been important to me. I really don’t care “why” events occur. My dad’s heart attack is no exception to that. It really doesn’t matter, what matters is “how do we keep it from happening again?” The doctor informed him, as doctors will do, that he needs to quit smoking. But in this case, he has a point… a strong one. The heart attack, in all of its ferocity, was brought on almost entirely because of smoking. Dad spends long hours working outside and is in excellent health in many respects. However, he does tend to cough a lot (more and more recently, I’ve noticed). I guess it is time to stop, if he can. And I hope sincerely that he can. He is too important to too many people.

Any blessings from this? Maybe. My brothers both have a tendancy to drop their kids off with my parents. I understand this. They have to make ends meet and you do what you can to struggle through with a young family. I get it. But Mom & Dad have both been pretty exhausted with it all lately. They’ve needed a break. Mom’s back needs some time & Dad just needs some time off for his mental health. Now, it seems they will get a little break. It is unfortunate that it had to happen in this way though.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Bradley is facing the end of his marriage. It has been coming for some time. When they first got married, Jess was great. I still think she is a good person and fun to be around. But she and Brad, who enjoyed a weirdly romantic & tumultuous relationship, have drifted apart rather calmly.

This would all be much ado about nothing if it wasn’t for the two kids. Brad & Jess have two boys, who are being used, as happens so often, to cause Brad more pain. He is repetedly denied seeing his boys by Jess, who has decided to move in with her mother, who is in the midst of mourning her husband, and who until very recently had nothing to do with the kids. Even now, her version of watching them is to take them to the neighbor’s house and have her watch them.

It angers me.

Bradley has a strong case for custody of those two boys, but I am afraid he will never try to make it, as he clings to hope that the marriage will survive. I just wish there was a better solution to the entire situation… that I would have confidence that I will know my nephews as they grow up. I am not so sure.

The boat has been rocked. We are in a cosmic reality show and all the viewers are waiting to see what we will do next. It is a great cliffhanger to the end of this season, but the choices we make in the near future could dictate entire decades of our lives.Continue Reading

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We’re Off To See The Blizzard

I ended my trip home by spending a few hours with Becky. I loved seeing her and was glad to finally reconnect. It had been far too long since we’d had a chance to hang out. I wish I could be around her all the time. She is so much fun.

The rest of Sunday was spent on a plane. 9 hours in the same seat… it isn’t fun. I was seated next to a woman who just loved to talk and I tried to not accidentally indicate that I may want to talk to her. It was a largely successful effort and I was able to spend my trip in silence. I did read My Fine Feathered Friend, which I had purchased in Stillwater for 20¢. I enjoyed it and was glad I didn’t pay cover price for it. I will most likely read it again and again, but it was too short.

When I arrived in Anchorage, it was very late… after midnight. Heather had arrived early to pick me up at 11:30, when the plane was suppose to land. I felt bad that she had to wait, but I couldn’t have known ahead of time. She helped me get my stuff into her car. I detected a bit of congestion starting, but I assumed it was a symptom of being on the plane for as long as I was. On the short drive home, I enjoyed the view of the week-old blanket of snow covering the city. It was January cold, but I felt warm to be at home.

How strange, I remarked, that this place feels like home. Heather agreed. She helped get my stuff into the house and hung out for a little bit. We both decided it was time for bed and she left. I was scheduled to be at work at 6:00 a.m.

a sick body is a prison

I woke up Monday morning very early. It was 5:00 and I couldn’t talk. I could barely breathe. The tickle from the night before was now a full-blown illness. I debated a little, waited until 6:00, & called the store. Work was not going to happen… not until I had a little medicine. I pretty much felt crappy all day. I missed the luncheon for Grant, which sucks. I missed work and getting payroll done correctly, which I am just now paying for.

I returned to work on Tuesday. I didn’t quite feel 100%, but wasn’t quite sick either. Tuesday was great, Wednesday was good. I was sleeping a lot, which was expected. I hadn’t had to do anything for 2 weeks. Thursday hit me like a ton of bricks. I was completely congested again. My head hurt and I could barely think correctly. I spent the entire day at work trying to stay motivated and awake. As soon as I got home, I crashed.

After a few hours I woke up, still feeling like poo and lethargic. I showered, which helped a bit. Heather called at 9:00 p.m. about the movie plans. I had totally forgotten, but agreed to go. I was a bit cranky. The movie, The Film Is Not Yet Rated, was amazing. Shocking, really. I recommend it.

Today, Friday, has been just as bad. I feel horrible. I did get to the store for some DayQuil & NyQuil. I hope they help. I can’t miss work… I have too much to do.

Okay, I will stop complaining now. 😉

I love snow.Continue Reading

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🌼💀 Día de los Muertos:

I woke this morning at 5:00 after nearly 14 hours of sleep.  My body aparently needed the rest.  I did, unfortunately, sleep through November 1 and was not awake to wish everyone a happy Día de los Muertos.  I hope everyone had a great day and celebrated those who are no longer with us in their own way.

I came with Mom to Oklahoma City to watch the girls for a couple days.  It also gives me a chance to stop by Borders to ship some things to myself.  I need to get out of here a little bit today.

I hate that I haven’t been able to visit with everyone I wanted to, but it is hard to squeeze everything into 2 weeks.  I am really looking forward to getting back to Anchorage and to work.  I miss my life, my couch, my friends, and the kibs.*

Call of the Wild:

Bradley’s friend is seriously considering moving to Alaska.  He would certainly have a place to stay (my house), but I feel bad for Brad.  John is his best friend and it would be nice to keep all of his friends close.  Bradley is one of the best people in the world and I only want happiness for him.  I really hope that John can find what he is looking for in life and remain Brad’s confidant and close friend.

On that note, I really need everyone to pray for Brad.  He is such a generous and gentle soul who has really been dealt a bad hand in life.  He is always up against the world and I really wish everything would be easier for him.  I really want him to come to Alaska, but he needs to be near his kids.  It is just another “between a rock and a hard place” kind of situation.

Happy Birthday, Travis.Continue Reading