If you are reading this column, then the August 2003 issue of the Gazette has indeed been completed.  I always call it a miracle.  At the moment of this writing, I am in another world far away from Vic-toria, a world that takes over my senses as never before.
I see miles and miles of snow-capped mountains all around us.  I taste fresh grilled salmon and halibut.  I touch ancient hospitality and heritage.  I hear the barking of Iditarod huskies and the screeching of hungry seagulls.  I feel brisk northern winds, warm northern sun, soft northern rains.  I ride horseback on the tundra.  I tread carefully on a glacier near crevasses that could easily swallow me whole.  I smell smoke wafting in from Siberia.
Except for this brief interlude with you, it is Alaska that has my attention, that commands my attention.  Can one cruise an ocean liner and not look out?  Can one walk past a gift shop and not look in?  Can one sit at the foot of a mountain and not look up?  Can one stand at the top of a mountain and not look down?
As Allan says, "There's no sculptor like Mother Nature."  As I say, "The art reflects the Artist."
In the grandeur and enormity of the majestic landscape, I see God the Father; Denali, which is the Athabascan name for "The High One," is the highest mountain on the North American Continent.  We know it more famously as Mt. McKinley.
In the people of Alaska and in their ability to transcend the extreme elements of snow, wind, ice ... and darkness, I see God the Son; and we know from whence comes the name "Resurrection Bay."  It lies near Seward, one of the port cities we visited on the Gulf of Alaska.
In the vastness of waters and wispy clouds that hover over the land and frost the horizon, I see God the Holy Spirit; His haunting voice speaks in the rushing streams, strong winds, and deep silence.  He's more than a Ghost in this world.
Put it all together and you end up with a religious experience.  As a matter of fact, Genesis seems to have been inspired in this Land of the Midnight Sun.  There is an overwhelming presence here, and I am reminded at every turn that in the beginning God made the heavens and the earth.
This place lifts me for a time beyond the straw in my life, the straw that needs to be cut, raked, and baled when I return to the field.  I am lifted by the trains, trams, and trolleys, not to mention the helicopter and ships at sea.  I am lifted by the sightings of moose, bear, and caribou, not to mention the whales, otters, and sea lions.  I am lifted by the kindness of our travel friends, not to mention the "Good Morning" greetings and "Happy Days" toasts in the evening.
When I am brought back to my normal life, I will rush to embrace my dear children and Sweet Adeline and old Victoria friends.  I will open scads of mail and e-mail and get back into the swing of things as I tend to the straw.
I am lifted by this great land of Alaska, and I will also be lifted by home, because that's where my heart is.

                                                                            ~Sue