Hill Street


 I was at a loss as to what to write about today. Several days ago the morning broke bright and sunny so I grabbed my camera hoping to get a shot of Ears Mountain with the fog lifting off the top and the sun highlighting the snow. As it was, by the time I got the camera, the scene had changed so I couldn't get the shot I wanted and I ended up getting a few pictures of some other things. Because the sun has been such a rare occurrence this year, I thought I would document the blue sky over Hill Street, where I live. As you can see, or maybe you can't really see, so I will tell you, like so much of the rest of Hoonah, the houses are an odd collection of tastes and lifestyles. There are white folks and natives and a combination of the two who live here. There are fishemen and a carpenter and social worker and a bookeeper and retired folks and some folks who don't work at all, and I'm not sure if they ever did. How the heck they stay alive is anyone's guess.  There isn't anyone really well to do on my street, so we don't have any really fancy houses to speak of. The green house on the corner has been empty for a  number of years. If you look close you can see that there is the remnants of a blue tarp on the roof. It was put there a few years ago because the metal roofing had blown away during a storm and a fellow had expressed interest in possibly buying the place, so someone tried to keep the rain out. I guess the buyer lost interest or just couldn't get the owners to sell. As often happens here, the primary owner of a home dies, and the family is left with the property. Families being what they are, one person wants to sell the property, another doesn't, there is a squabble about who has title and instead of fixing up the place so that they all get a share of the profits, the place sits abandoned until it falls apart. I've been tempted to solve the problem for them with some pyrotechnics, but it would be my luck that my place would catch fire. Up the street aways there are a few houses that are fixed up pretty well and one, that though occupied, hasn't seen a drop of paint in years. Across the street there are two mobile homes- actually only one. I think the other one is more of a glorified travel trailer that has been empty for years since the owner died. The neighborhood is a reflection of the folks who live there. Some folks mow their lawns and paint their houses and some folks throw their broken refrigerator out back. Personally, I'd kind of like to see more lawn mowing going on, but it's not up to me. I guess it's the price you pay to live here. I know that I'd rather be somewhere that folks have the freedom to live as they will- within reason- than be in a gated community where someone else tells you what color to paint your house and whether or not you can have the stars and stripes flying out front. From the way things are sounding in the news, Hoonah may be the last bastion of freedom. The mayor here hasn't said a word about outlawing Styrofoam cups or thirty two ounce soft drinks, and I can guarantee you if some government official comes here with the intent of controlling our guns, he'll discover real quick that this isn't the lower 48. 
  I guess that's all I have to say about that. In an unrelated note, if you need a laugh, please check out the blog, Tideline to Treeline. My friend who used to live here posted a good article on baking biscuits.  Have a great day.

Comments

  1. Love the photo! I always miss home, and it will always be home to me!

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  2. I love that street. Memories..Ben

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  3. Now that we are grown the street looks so much smaller as do the stairs leading up to snob hill. Very fond memories for sure. Liz

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  4. The hill looks a lot smaller than the one we used to spend our winters sledding down

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  5. Hi Guys- I know what you mean about everything looking smaller. When I went back to my childhood home after being gone for many years, I couldn't believe how small it seemed. Part of growing up I guess. I'm glad that you all had some good memories to keep.I'm sure there were some lousy ones too, but who wants to remember the bad times? It's hard to believe that we all lived in that small house, but then we were all smaller then too. Thanks for commenting everyone.

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