The luckiest people

I help Sam push his aluminum boat off of the gravel shore into the choppy gray water. The fishing has been especially good this year, and the salmon are going strong. Sam and the rest of the people in this coastal Alaskan village are grateful for the bounty.

“Think it will be another good day for salmon?” I ask, admiring the streams of sunlight that come through the gaps in the clouds and light up patches of the bay.

“Today I’m going for halibut,” he answers, smiling. Anyone else would have known from the gear in the boat what kind of fish he was going for.

“Yeah, well I’m from Arizona,” I laugh. “We just go for sandfish!”

“It’s too hot there,” Sam looked serious. “In fact, when I listen to the news, I’m glad to be where I am. Down in the States, the people are dying from the heat and the fires are burning up the forest and the towns.”

We look out along the shoreline where the grass and flowers of the tundra meet the sparkling waters of the sea. “Sometimes I think we’re the luckiest people in the world,” Sam continued. “No heat, no fires, no war, and everybody has enough to eat!”

People in the small town of Toksook Bay are no strangers to hardship. Two typhoons have struck the coast in the past two years, destroying some homes and many boats. Melting permafrost has destabilized the shorelines along with the foundations of many houses, half of which do not have plumbing. Winter temperatures hang out at minus thirty degrees for weeks at a time. When fish and seals are not plentiful, many people go hungry.

But here today, the village is peaceful, the sea is full of abundance, and Sam considers himself among the luckiest people in the world. And so do I.

by Scott Coverdale