Alaska Writes

Socially Clueless

Wed, 03 Oct 2007 08:46:50 -0800

I moved to Anchorage six months ago, after living 20 years in Fairbanks. The move has been invigorating and refreshing, but of course there are folks I miss. Still, Alaskans pass through Anchorage all the time. I knew I’d see my friends, and I have.

Yesterday I was lucky enough to see two of them, if only briefly. The first is one of my favorite people. We shopped and shared a salad and talked about family, friends, life, and plans. She’s a person I always feel privileged to be with - gracious, kind, intelligent. She’s the kind of person who leaves you feeling enriched and loved.

The second - well, let’s say it was a contrast. It was the first time I’d seen her since the Big Move. I showed her where I lived, asked about her life, asked about her plans, asked about mutual friends. I asked till I couldn’t think of what to ask anymore. An hour passed, and I was feeling tired. I’m not good at monologue. Not once did she ask about me, what I’d been doing, my life here. Not once was there a point of real connection.

Now, what if I told you one of these was a man?

Not all social graces are gender-specific, but some are. And circumstances play a big part in how we interact with others. My second friend may have been distracted, not really in the moment. But even as I tried to excuse the behavior, it left me feeling empty, and wondering about what makes for good social interaction, and whether it matters.

Let me be clear. I’m naturally bad at small talk, and I spent a good part of my life being painfully shy. But I made an effort, and I’d like to think I’ve made some progress with both. I think that’s important. Recently I read an article about one of those studies that points out the obvious. Social skills set humans apart from other creatures. Moreover, societies in which the group matters more than the individual are more successful.

That bodes ill for Americans, and perhaps for Alaskans in particular - the independent spirit and all that jazz. But I don’t think Alaska’s just for loners and the socially inept. When I first came here in the late 70’s to teach in several Yup’ik villages, I found a closer sense of community than I’ve ever found elsewhere. Gussak teachers were the minority. Villagers were gracious but distant. They’d seen enough of us come and go. We were the outsiders. So we clung together, forming deep and lasting relationships with people who weren’t all that much like us. The situation threw us together. We bonded, and we were better people for it.

I suppose a certain percentage of people have always been socially clueless, which is mostly another way of saying they’re “all about me.” I had a great discussion last weekend with a friend who’s a retired State Trooper. We were watching 48 hours, a story about a wife who’d maybe murdered her husband. What about these criminals, I asked. The ones who seem so normal, whose friends talk about how nice they are, the PTA moms who bake cookies and host cookouts and get arrested for murder. Guilty, he said. Listen to her. It’s all about her. Me, me, me.

Okay, maybe that’s more than just socially clueless. But why do some people get it and some people don’t? It’s like some people’s rear view mirrors reflect only back on themselves.

The rules of engagement are slipping away. No one disputes that. In their place, we have electronic interaction. Social networking. Blogs. Millions of forums, countless opportunities to interact. I’d like to think that some - this blog included, of course - promote positive interaction. But the medium is the messasge, as McLuhan tried to warn us so many years ago. Now we have distance and the delete key, and no obligation to respond if we don’t feel like it.

Ah, the irony. Look at the forum for this rant.

I’d like to hear what you have to say. Really.

Stripper on trial

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 15:30:15 -0800

Who's following the Mechelle Linehan trial?

Gail Giles

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 15:06:16 -0800

Gail Giles: If you’re looking for good YA novels, read Gail Giles. She’s phenomenal. No longer an Alaskan, but we still love her.

Deb Vanasse

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 15:04:30 -0800

Deb Vanasse: Books and thoughts about writing from Alaskan author Deb Vanasse

"When a big animal grabs a little one and runs into the woods, that’s not play anymore."

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 15:03:41 -0800

““When a big animal grabs a little one and runs into the woods, that’s not play anymore.””

- Rick Sinnott, Alaska Dept. of Fish and Game, talking about Romeo the wolf.

Morning at Kenai Lake, Sept. 22.

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 14:50:27 -0800

Morning at Kenai Lake, Sept. 22.

Alaska Writes

Sun, 30 Sep 2007 14:45:55 -0800

Amazing writers live in Alaska. That is not hyperbole. Alaska is a long way from the nation’s pub hub, but maybe that’s a plus. We know what’s bigger than us, what’s meaner than us, and most of all, what really matters.

We’ve got our flaws, like everyone else. We’re embarrassed that our state’s entire congressional delegation made the Citizens for Ethics list of the 22 most corrupt politicians. As a state, we’ve let ourselves get far too cozy with the oil industry.

Then again, it’s PFD time. $1654 is a nice splash in the bank account for the proverbial starving artist.

Politics and economics aside, Alaskans produce some stunningly beautiful poetry and prose. No doubt we are inspired by mountains, sea and sky that beg for description, then cunningly defy it. Nature as a force looms large in our lives. Isolation taunts and beckons. Place is more than backdrop, more than character. It inhabits who we are and who we will become.

Today the wind blows in from the Inlet, jarring leaves from the golden birch. Winter is just around the proverbial corner. The drizzle falling now will soon be snow. I meant to climb up Flattop Mountain before the rocks turned icy. Already it’s too late.

I’ve seen 27 winters here. Some blew across the tundra from the Bering Sea. Some tumbled into the Tanana River valley. Some began with termination dust creeping down the Chugach Mountains. But each has brought its own adventures, and each its humbling reminder that I am small and this place looms large.

Anchorage hosted the 2007 Bouchercon this year. Though I hated staying inside on two of fall’s more flamboyant days, I loved the synergy of our Alaskan writers mingling with authors from across the continent. Dana Stabenow, Sue Henry, John Straley, Michael Armstrong, Elyse Guttenberg - all were there. If you haven’t read them, you should.