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Since I was a young woman I have been striving to fill my life with authentic experiences. What are authentic experiences? I can only describe them by telling what they are not. Vacationing in san francisco and choosing to dine at Applebee's is not an authentic experience. Going to cleveland and having pastromi at a jewish deli is authentic. The homogenization of our country saddens me and so I attempt to experience the authenticity of a place, where ever I go.

Today, as I was droving the grey muffler less (thanks to deejay in shop class) Subaru in the dark along icy Basargin Road (which was littered with a dozen Budweiser boxes), watching the sun rise over the glaciers to the south, and thinking about the faces that would be peering at me today with their deeply accented voices, I realized that once again I have created an authentic experience for myself.

Yesterday class was disrupted by a coyote running up to school. Then a weasel. Then a little mouse got caught in the trap. Then all the kids hopped on their wheelers and went home for lunch and I thought, "where else?"


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