The daylight has been increasing by 5 minutes per day, or more, since the solstice.  It is surprising how quickly the length of day increases with that steady amount.  Today the sun came up around 9am, and it'll go down around 7pm, and it won't be long before we'll have have 14 hours of sunlight.  What an odd occurrence that will be.

For most everybody who lives here daylight is rather not a factor.  I had the thought prior to making this relocation, that the long nights in the winter caused the depressions, which I have found to not be the case at all.  Certainly it is a different way of operating than I have been used to, however my 80 days' worth of experience is having me formulate a different idea; which we'll see how true that may be later.

I'm thinking that there are two issues that occur here, and when they do so simultaneously, symptoms of depression increase.  The first is lack of purpose.  I don't mean "job" so much in the way that people understand a job in the paycheck sense, but I mean a reason for getting up in the morning.  That purpose could just as easily be getting wood for heat or going to school in the morning.  Those that do have jobs here, tend to have their purpose clearly established and depression seems to be staved off.  (There is a flip-side to that:  others in the community attribute that role as belonging only to that one person, and therefore the weight of the community is felt by that one person, however that is a different topic, entirely.)

Identifying a purpose is rather false, unless that purpose is clear and has simply been avoided.  Having a person get up before the sun rises for the sole purpose of having something to do, is clearly circular and at best not helpful.  That purpose needs to be self-evident, not contrived.  Survival needs are clear, yet outside of that most "purposes" are perceived as doing something just to do it.  School, for instance is certainly something to do, yet the longer term reason to attend and graduate is lost as there is no population in their home-villages to support an industry or anything professional.  Which brings me to the second co-occuring contributor to depression.

Lack of people with which to interact is stifling.  Friends are family; cousins in one sense or another.  There are few people who can be looked up to as models of what can be achieved for others.  AA has little sobriety overall.  There are professionals in the area, but they are perceived as outsiders therefore they are not personal role-models.  This deprivation of forward-thinking is typically referred to as having lost the Native culture, and although that may be accurate, it is not enough for me to understand.  When the population was small, survival was the only option.  As the population has grown, more options have certainly become apparent however not viable, for a thousand different reasons I haven't yet identified.

Being alongside the rest of Americans who come here because they are professionals hasn't resulted in a mindset of, "let me do that too," but that of, "I'll never be able to do that."  I don't know where the fault lies, in the air of superiority of those who are professional, or the sense of helplessness of those who are not.  Either way, the long-timers have not been able to connect as equals with the newly transplanted professionals, and so their equals and friends are still their family.   The variety of people-groups in this area has not yet resulted in a large population though, and so industries are virtually 'assigned' to various ethnic backgrounds: Albanians are cab-drivers, Caucasians are professionals, Natives are substistence, Koreans are restaurant-owners.

Being acutely aware that there are innumerable choices yet still seeing only one option as realistic, has resulted in a perception of learned-helplessness -- depression.

Those that have a sense of purpose and are able to connect with others outside of their family seem to have less depressive symptoms.  In fact, these are the people that thrive here.  These people are able to see how the whole world is open before them if they set themselves up for it, and the opportunities here are seen as a spring-board into untold options all around.

I have never worked among more professional people than I do right now.  From doctors to therapists to admininstrative people, from those who do the initial screening to those who do the medication managment, nobody does more -- even though the resources are far less.  Even so, nobody runs around like a chicken with their head cut off.  Nobody is so busy that they can't stop to chat, and nobody is so stretched thin that they are unable to be personable.  The culture of the whole delta is this way: doing the job right by seeing it through to the point of everybody's satisfaction while not appearing to be busy.  My previous cultural experience was virtually the opposite: appear to be busy in order to justify the position, salary and resources.

Here, much is being done yet the first-impressions and outward appearances would seem to say otherwise.  In my earlier experiences, little was being done yet the outward show was enormous.

Previously I had felt as though I needed to justify every one of my actions.  I had this sense that I needed to look as though I was working hard, no matter what.  If something came easily to me, or if something got done efficiently and well, I was supposed to then talk everything through with others in order to justify my having taken the 'shorter' route; thereby nullifying any time I might have gained by being efficient in the first place.  How asinine.

The culture here is not one of show, but one of substance and relationship:  do the job right and do right by the people.  Bragging and stressing doesn't help relationships, and it uses up the energy that would otherwise be put into the job.  Drop everything and fish when the run is on, or you will be hungry in the next few months.  If the birds are flying, stop and collect the eggs or they won't be found.  If the caribou are in the area, get a few -- right then and there.  Take advantage of the opportunities or they will be lost to you.

The jobs here have not historically been professional jobs, dependent upon a clock and a legal contract, but ones of rather straight-forward survival now referred to as subsistence living.  To those coming in from outside this way of thinking, it could easily look as though these people aren't in a hurry and couldn't care less.  After all, if they're able to see a Native and have the time in which to hold a conversation, that person obviously isn't gathering wood for the next season.  Hunting in the Lower 48 isn't a matter of survival: it's a sport.  Even if a family was to live solely off the land in the Lower 48 (I've never met one), they would still have the option of affordable food from a grocery store.  Not so here. 

I live in the booming metropolis of Bethel, a town that is now about 7,000 mostly Native people.  One hundred years ago there were less than one hundred people here total, while fifty years ago it had expanded to about 1,000.  Even with the population explosion there are only two grocery stores, three if you really want to be generous -- all of which are extraordinarily expensive.  People cannot feasibly afford to shop locally for their food, even still; survival remains the issue.  Bragging and stressing simply doesn't help, as everybody has to do the same things.  Being prepared to go when the moment arrives, doing it well and then enjoying time with the people afterward is what has always been important -- and still is.  The appearance of being busy is not only not valued, it is considered selfish and vain -- being busy in reality doesn't require stress; it requires action when the time is ripe followed by the reward of being prepared for the future, which means real rest can now be had.

Nothing has been written in the past few weeks, as I have been waiting for inspiration to arrive, or maybe for my internet service to speed up.  As neither has happened, I am now motivated by a sleeping wife, three children thankfully quiet as they watch a movie and a thermos full of freshly brewed coffee.

It has been a quiet day, however productive.  I made breakfast and dinner, both with the help of the younger set.  Lunch was inconspicuously absent, due to the timing of the other two meals, and the arrival of the cake and ice cream.  The chocolate cake recipe was downloaded from the internet ... I have found and appreciate allrecipes.com.  Val suggested that I use a box ... well, that just won't happen now that it's been suggested.  Also, she wanted some of the vanilla butter cream frosting that I made for Eliana's birthday two weeks ago; having come directly from America's Test Kitchen.

Do I sound like all the other bloggers writing about what they put into their gullet?  I have previously threatened to write about what I excrete afterwards, but now that it's before me, that just won't happen.

The other day Samara was walking out of the doctor's office and made the comment, "This feels just like Tennessee".  At that moment, Bethel was ten degrees below zero, with a very slight breeze, while Chattanooga was at 50 above.  I absolutely loved her comment ... she has acclimated well.  The day earlier Eliana made the comment, "How come you wanted to move to Alaska where it's always fun?"  My kiddos make me proud!

We have practically figured out how to use the webcam, utilizing Skype.  It is almost as easy as a regular phone, and it would seem has a quicker response time than the people who have called in on their land line to ours.  When that has occured, the delay has been more signifcant than from computer-to-computer or computer-to-land line.

Yesterday warmed up to above freezing for a few hours, and everything started to melt.  It was nice to be able to make some snowballs, rather carving out chunks of ice from the ground to throw at each other.  The down-side to the short time of melting, is the layer of ice that forms on top of every surface when everything refreezes.   Ice cleets are simply an essential during those times.  I never had them previously, even though they were just as essential in Iowa and Nebraska, yet a person can walk or run on ice without an issue with the cleets, and even right up a frozen hill that has no foot holds.

The kids found Val some presents of which we wouldn't have thought previously: a fleece lined hat with ear flaps and a neoprene face mask with holes for breathing.  Winter still will be in effect for the next two months here, and Val is quite pleased to have these.  We very well may be traveling down-river (or up, I can't remember), to go ice fishing one of these next few weeks.  I was given a tremendous compliment by one of my coworkers.  They had mentioned that I didn't look cold on one of the 20-below days, and I mentioned that as I kept walking I was fine.  Her comment?  "You must be a real Eskimo."  It was at that point that she invited me along with her family to go ice fishing with them.  Although the invitation is present, the time and date are not, so I am not sure when that will occur.  I will not go on the river for the first time without a guide; probably the second, but even then only when listening to their wisdom.  She reported one-time having caught 200 fish over the course of eight hours.  I'll be happy with the experience alone.

We bought a truck:  a 1992 Ford Bronco with 4-wheel drive.  It's an official "Bethel Beater".  We know the history in full: a repo from Anchorage, barged over here to be run on the river during the winter.  So, exactly what I bought it for.  It runs, and holds our family.  Gas is still $6 per gallon here.  When the barge brings the final gas of the season in, sometime in September, the price is locked until the next barge is able to get here, sometime in May.  $25 put in about 1/8th of a tank, but we've been running around on that for two weeks now.

With the truck, Val is now looking at a job.  There are many jobs available, however it is not so much the job issue, as the Eliana issue.  Daycare/school will be needed for her.  The summer will start before too long, and arrangements will need to be identified for all the kids.  This phase of life will be different for us.

There have been more days missed in school this year due to the weather, than budgeted.  The school year does not get extended here, as the days get long and the salmon start to run.  Therefore, there will be a few Saturdays of school to make up for them:  Aidan's bane.