September 13,
2017 Ketchikan, Alaska – Bucket List Blog # 5
Ketchikan – The Road Not Taken
I have always loved Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken”
– especially the last line that says, “And I took the one less traveled and
that has made the difference.” Although I am by upbringing not inclined to
stray too far from the beaten path, there are times when I feel the need to do
something a little differently. I have found that this makes me far more
flexible and open minded and often puts wonderful serendipities into my life
that are always among some of my favorite memories. I don’t actually plan these
things, but when it appears I may be lost or encounter what some might think is
negative, I cautiously welcome it and follow it through to the end. Such was my
experience in Ketchikan.
As I walked toward the visitor’s
center located on Front St. that overlooks the Ketchikan harbor, I saw a
typical fishing village. Quaint, commercial fishing boats bounced in the harbor
waters with two giant cruise ships towering over them to create a postcard image
of the two major economies that support the people there – commercial fishing
and tourism. I stood on Front Street looking at my map and the city thinking
about what I was going to do. I had taken one organized tour in Juneau, but had
chosen to see Sitka on my own. I was glad I had done that and planned to do the
same in Ketchikan. Find the library and free Wi-Fi, and then do the self-guided
two mile walking tour through the city followed by some Christmas shopping before
returning to the ship.
There was one problem, however. Our time in Ketchikan was the
shortest of all the port stays and the city was bigger than Sitka. As I stood
there deciding what to do, I saw a small van that said “free shuttle” into the
city. Today, I would ride. When I stepped on the bus, I asked the driver,
“where is the library and free Wi-Fi?” She told me that the library was on the
other side of the island and she did not go there. She said there was free
Wi-Fi at the McDonald’s in the Plaza that was one of her last stops. What to
do? An opportunity for “the road not taken.” I got off the shuttle at the first
stop in front of the Totem Pole Museum. The Museum was located atop a hill in a
wooded area fed by Ketchikan Stream which was filled with salmon. The bus
driver said that residents were free to fish there as well as the harbor and
suggested that I have a look at it before going into the Museum. The stream was
clear and cold and filled with large salmon. Impressive. I walked up the hill
and entered the Museum.
After I purchased my ticket, the clerk told me the group
coming in was a private group and I could surreptitiously enjoy the commentary.
I recognized the group as one from the Eurodam. The narrator was Tlingit and
shared stories about the totem poles by referring to her own heritage. As I
listened to her, I realized I had heard all of this from Mame in Glacier Bay,
so I walked around the corner and began reading about the exhibits on display
as the narrator’s voice became more distant. These exhibits were ancient pieces
found all over the area and preserved like the ancient mummies of Egypt. As I
read and looked at the displays, the totem pole culture of the Tlingit began to
come to life.
Unlike the members of the Iroquois Confederacy, the Tlingit
believed in ownership of property and the accumulation of wealth and the totems
were the expression of this. Elaborate totems were placed in front of the plank
houses that lined the harbor to tell the history of the clan that lived
there. Other totems recorded the
potlatches of a village chieftain to establish his status as a powerful member
of the community. Potlatches were celebrations of a birthday, wedding or
successful salmon run. There was gift giving, but gifts were given by the hosts
to the attending guests – a way of showing a higher rank than others in the
community. But potlatches were more than just celebrations, they were also
religious rituals.
After Christian missionaries arrived in the 19th
Century, the practice of the potlatch disappeared along with all the other
aspects of the Tlingit culture during the time of assimilation. I stood looking
at the houses as they looked in the 19th Century; I became aware of
someone standing behind me. I turned and saw a man with silver white hair who
looked a lot like Kenny Rogers. He must have been reading my mind because he
pointed to some of the plank houses and said, “Those houses with the horizontal
planks and windows show the influence of the missionaries.” That was all he
said and then he turned and walked away leaving me thinking of the blanket
destruction of a people and all their monuments that kept their stories and
history alive. I left the Museum
thinking about Frost’s poem. I had taken the road less traveled and because of
that I had a new perspective on some of the challenges we are facing in our polarized
society today.
That night, I went to the evening trivia and, as usual,
played with a group from Seattle. After the game ended one of the men in the
group chose to ask me about my thoughts on the Confederate monuments. I suppose
he asked me because he knew I was from Kentucky. After my encounter at the
Museum, I had spent a lot of time thinking about this very thing. I said the
following, “I think all people’s monuments belong in a museum, not on display
to be idolized. Every culture struggles with good and evil and many times when
one group of people overcome another and establish dominance, the stories
become distorted and the concept of what is good and what is evil changes based
on who won. It is the responsibility of the leaders to tell the stories with
compassion and honesty so their descendants can sort out the lessons of history
and decide what they believe to be good and evil.” That’s all I said. The man acknowledged
my comment with a nod of his head and a tight smile. The rest was silence.
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