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Monday Morning Memo

I met Joy at a rest stop on my trek up to where the polar bears swim. The official name of the Haul Road is Dalton Highway, a too-narrow gravel road with deep potholes, arctic weather, and a caravan of trucks taking supplies to the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay. 

It was summer. We were about to drive over the 4,738 foot Atigun Pass. At the rest stop was a giant red truck. I was gazing at it when a petite young woman strolled over and began climbing up to the door, I asked if I could take a picture of her in front of it. “I’m a painter and would like to do a painting.” She chuckled. Click. 

I was pleased with my painting so I tracked her down. Not many women drive the Haul Road, so Joy was easy to find. I invited her to my gallery opening and she and I became friends. We met at a coffee shop several times. Driving a truck is not all fun and adventure. The danger is real. Joy Wiebe was hauling a 59-foot tanker with 9700 gallons of diesel fuel across the tundra when her truck flipped off the embankment. She left behind a broken-hearted husband and three adorable children. I remember her smile and her chuckle. I think she would want us to remember her chuckle.

Amy Butcher wrote a book about Joy that was released a few days ago. Mothertrucker: Finding Joy on the Loneliest Road in America. The movie will be released soon.

– Raven, at Alaskan Raven Studio

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Random Quote:

“What a child needs, what we all need, is to find some other people who have imagined life along lines that make sense to us and allow some freedom. And listen to them. Not hear passively, but listen. Listening is an act of community, which takes space, time, and silence.

Reading is a means of listening.

Reading is not as passive as hearing or viewing. It’s an act: you do it. You read at your pace, your own speed, not the ceaseless, incoherent, gabbling, shouting rush of the media. You take in what you can and want to take in, not what they (the media) shove at you fast and hard and loud in order to overwhelm and control you. Reading a story, you may be told something, but you’re not being sold anything. And though you’re usually alone when you read, you are in communion with another mind. You aren’t being brainwashed or co-opted or used; you’ve joined in an act of the imagination.
The reason literacy is important is that literature is the operating instructions. The best manual we have. The most useful guide to the country we’re visiting  —life.”

- Ursula Le Guin

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The Wizard Trilogy

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