From one big state to another

RYAN REYNOLDS

June 05, 2008 at 3:36PM AKST

Before we get started, I feel I should say something. Just get it right out in the open so there’s no trouble later.

I wouldn’t want anybody to feel cheated on down the road when they found out I’m from Texas. Yes, it’s true.

Now, before the mob assembles, I would like to point out that I’m allergic to chicken feathers and never cared much for tar. Riding around town trussed up like a pig could be fun for a little while, but I can think of at least three things off hand that I’d rather do this evening.

Though I suppose if someone had three gallons of maple syrup and a ptarmigan or two, we might have a deal in the works. However, for the moment I’ll assume that since this lovely town is inundated with Texans each summer that at least some level of tolerance must be present.

I’ve been living in Seward for less than a year now, which I know qualifies me as something of a rookie. Aug. 28 marks my first anniversary, which curiously enough, is a special someone’s birthday. Not sure what to get her for a present yet.

The traditional gift is “paper,” so maybe a few back issues of The Log? Don’t worry, I’ll use a nice bow.

You know, since my arrival here I’ve come to understand that seniority carries a lot of water in Alaska, and Outsiders, while they may always be welcome, don’t often scratch below the snow bank. I guess I had assumed that there would be one magic moment when the clouds would part, the doors would all open, and suddenly I would know that I had truly arrived.

A long, dark winter taught me otherwise. It brought home to me the old mantra that good things take time.

And it wasn’t just all the homebrew maturing in my basement. It was as if the warmth and kinship of those around me increased as the mercury dropped. As if the heart shone brighter as the sun grew lazy. I learned the value of a good friend and the wealth to be found in a warm smile.

The word community is bounced around so often these days that I feel it’s shed some of its weight. In a way, it was only the elusive potential of the word that I ever understood. Something to aspire to.

Since I left my home in Texas four years ago, I’ve been trying to find a new one. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for Texas anymore, but that I felt there was something more, out past yonder horizon.

California showed promise for a short while, then Vermont. Portland seemed to be a dream come true, and then it was almost back to Austin when I realized that I just couldn’t ignore what my heart was telling me any longer. Sometimes, most times, it’s best to follow your gut.

Before this past year I had worked two summers in Alaska. One here and one out in Lake Clark. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to plant a seed. I guess it wasn’t until last fall that I realized I had a chest full of fireweed flowers, and if I didn’t want them to wither away and die far from home, I had better hop to it.

And so North I came.

Now before we end up on into tomorrow, I guess what I’m angling at here is a big old thank you in a way. Thank you, Seward. You’re beautiful.

And if you don’t mind too much, I’m going to clog up The Log every other week with a few words about you. I’ll do my best to get a few smiles in there, and a couple of furry hearts ’n’ honey kind of moments, and maybe something worth reading now and then.

But mostly, I hope it pays tribute to the best little cold and cloudy slice of heaven that I’ve ever seen. Until next time, let’s follow the sun.

Ryan Reynolds used to live in Texas, but we like him anyway. Send complaints, concerns, angry letters, diatribes or the occasional compliment to ryannreynolds@gmail.com.