It’s a rare day in Ketchikan. The sun is shining!
Averaging 162 inches of rain a year, it’s unusual
to find this temperate rain forest with skies as
blue as a robin’s egg. I am standing in front of the
Saxman tribal house looking out at Tongass
Passage, which is densely rimmed by tall hemlocks
and ancient cedars. In the background, sapphire blue mountain
peaks stand as sentinels, successfully blocking the invasion
of outsiders by land.
The terrain around me is as lush and green as a tropical
island—not at all what I expect to find in Alaska. Were it not
for the totem poles and native Alaskan guide at my side, I might
wonder if I’d lost my way. But this is indeed Southeast Alaska—
First City, as it is known—the first port on my Alaskan voyage.
Here, surrounded by the only true wilderness I have ever
known, I relinquish the pressures of my city lifestyle and give
myself over to looking, listening, and imagining.
I yearn to know the real Alaska—to hear the haunting
melodies of the night, smell the intoxicating perfume of grass
washed clean by a summer rain, and feel the tug of the wind
as a gale blows in from the ocean. But most of all, I wish to
discover more about the proud culture of the people who
belong to this rugged and magnificent place.
Saahc, our native guide, intrigues me. And though I desire
to learn more about his heritage, I find myself too reserved to
attempt conversation. It is only months after I have returned
to Chicago that we meet again through the miracle of cyberspace
and words on a page. Since that time, we have shared
news and bits and pieces of our lives. Slowly he is beginning to
paint a picture for me of what life was like long ago. But one
of the most pleasurable parts of this burgeoning friendship is
an unexpected benefit—the honor and respect that he
brings to our relationship.
Though he has come to know me well, he insists on calling
me “Miss Peg,” a polite, respectful nod of deference. And when
he refers to our friendship, he acknowledges me, not as just his
friend, but his “honored” friend—offering all the consideration
that this title confers. Although I am probably not worthy of
this honor, it reminds me of the nature of a true friend—one
who does not see another for what they are, but instead sees
and honors only what is best within them.
For a time, honor seemed an out-of-fashion virtue. But
since the events of September 11th, I’m glad to see that it has
come back into vogue. Many have stepped forward, paying
honor to God, country, and to those who serve and protect.
Calvin Coolidge once said, “No person was ever honored
for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he
gave.” In this issue of Becoming Family, we want to pay tribute to
a few families who have “given” and deserve our praise.
As a staff, we’ve been privileged to meet the Allen family (pg.
32) who lost their son in the terrorist attack at the World Trade
Center. The courage and love with which they met this crisis has
inspired us all. We experienced this love firsthand, when in the
midst of their grief, the Allens took time out to write a warm
note thanking, praising, and encouraging our creative team for
the work that went into the story about their son.
Working with the Kays (pg. 38) has also been an inspiring
experience.This military family, like all those who serve, has
to face separation and danger to keep our country free. Yet
they couldn’t be more modest. Lieutenant Colonel Kay says,
“my job is just that—my job.”
Two of our families, the Nechitas (pg. 54) and the Smiths
(pg. 46), have realized the American Dream. In “Legacy of
Love,” we revisit the past with a Belgian war bride and her
American soldier husband. And we also discover the gift
they’ve chosen to leave their children—one more valuable
than any riches. From the Nechitas, who fled Communist
Romania for a better way of life, we learn how to nurture and
unlock the promise of each of our children.
Looking at the lives represented in this issue, I can’t help but
feel proud to call myself an American. Honor courses through
the veins of our people and comes from all corners of our
shores. The same cultural diversity from which our nation draws
its strength has filled our pages—and our hearts—with lessons
and blessings. Our hope is that it fills your heart and home as well.
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