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I wish I was ice fishing
When my nephew, Kael, was about 9 years old, that formative age where the world imprints itself upon you, he came to Anchorage from his home in Unalakleet, Alaska, with his auntie, Heidi. It was summer, and he was loving all the diversions of the big city. Movies, shopping at the mall, meals at restaurants,…
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Bringing the best of home
“Uvlaalautaq, Mr. Crawford,” my son Henning said as he shook his first grade teacher’s hand at the door before the school day began. “What did you say?” the teacher asked. “Uvlaalautaq,” Henning said and went into his classroom to hang his jacket and backpack. His teacher looked at me. “He said ‘uvlaalautaq.’ It means ‘good…
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All-lady seal hunting crew
One of my favorite stories comes from one of my favorite memories. I’ll never forget just finishing up some of my cousin Allen’s akuutaq (it’s so good!) and seeing a seal pop up right in front of us. I hustled to the boat, putting my muck boots on, asking my Dad if my niece, Katiya,…
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He shot a bear and I wondered if I’d nagu him
A few years ago, on September 15, Timm’s birthday wish was to drive our four wheelers to Tom Cod, a high, proud hill north of us. After eating some blueberry lemon birthday cake, TImm, Henning, Sidney and I packed up our bags with our binoculars, tea, dried ugruk meat and some chocolate. “Should I see…
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Losing salmon means losing more than just food
I’ve long held an aversion to the word subsistence. It’s felt too shallow for what this lifestyle gives. Subsistence living is so much more than just getting food. It’s health. It’s belonging. It’s relationship with the land and waters. It’s healing. My latest High Country News column explores our relationship with salmon. Our relationship with…
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Picking aqpiit I found a surprise
A funny thing no one seems to talk about when writing for magazines is timing. For a piece that publishes in July, the story is written months ahead of time. Editors need time for editing, writers need time for rewrites, and the art department needs time finding photos and laying out the stories. I’m sure…
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Feathers in the Tent and Fish in the Pan
The yellow Arctic Oven tent is nestled in the snow in front of a grove of spruce trees. Stoic, strong spires telling us they remain even in winter. A winter that has brought rain in December, covering everything in an inch of ice, and week-long January windstorms that blew siding and roof metal off houses.…
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Native food is my love language
I don’t think I’ve ever written about it, but I should. The first time I visited Timm in Noatak, and after we officially started liking each other that way he kind of sealed the deal with my send off meal. Out of his freezer in his teacher apartment he served me trout quaq, bowhead maktak,…
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If my house was on fire, I’d grab my favorite ulu
My journalist friend, Julia O’Malley, hooked me up with an editor for Eater Magazine to write a piece about the ulu. She reminds me of the importance of community and the recurring lesson that we cannot do anything alone. Thank you, Julia. It was interesting writing about an every day Inupiaq/Yup’ik item in a literal…
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Compassion is transformative
This spring I spoke with U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo for a story for New Mexico’s El Palacio Magazine. For five years it was my job to interview people. All kinds of people. Hunters, mayors, U.S. Senators, Alaska Governors, CEOs and birders. I was rarely nervous, and definitely never as nervous as I was in…
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Gram, Beach Greens, Fermenting & Home
Our busy harvesting season begins with our ugruk hunts in May. After ugruk we have the oil to store greens and roots like tukaiyuk, masru and sura. (I actually don’t pick sura because I don’t have the patience to pick and clean the tiny greens, LOL.) In June we pick beach greens to ferment. To…
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I’m writing again!
It’s been a while. I know. Thanks to High Country News, I’ll be sharing glimpses into our life in western Alaska. My favorite thing. This past summer I took a qulliq carving class with one of the greatest teachers of our time, Kunaq. This column explores welcoming the seal oil lamp back into our homes.…
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Hurt and healing, maybe even hope
For a few days I’ve simply been emotionally numb. Numb to the fact that thousands of Indigenous children’s bodies are buried. Children murdered, abused. Children sick with TB, died without family. Without love. Without care. Children buried. In unmarked graves. Children. While these children died at the hands of the Canadian government and the Catholic…
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Group project
Let’s do a project together. Last night I read that you don’t get exhausted doing what you love. It got me thinking. I never got exhausted when working at KNOM Radio providing information to the region, and I have never worked longer hours. I loved it. With everything going on (how we natives say COVID-19…
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Family Time Means Moose Hunting
This past year I full-on caught the moose hunting bug. Some call the fever Moose Brain. The infection started a few years ago when intending to drive way up North River to my Uncle Burkher’s camp. On the way we saw a cow and a bull moose in the middle of the river. My brother,…
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laureli ivanoff 