The Beautiful Citizens of Soldotna, Alaska

See that Starbuck's logo?   Get yourself in there.  You might just get lucky and met Michael and his 11 year old daughter.   Never did get her name.   Just her wisdom.   The Starbucks cafe abuts the exit of one of the grocery lines.  Forty year old and chubby, Michael and his happy-go-lucky daughter Maddie (made that up out of the initials for "Michael's Daughter") had just checked out of the grocery line.   He caught my eye and nodded at me while I was working on my blog.  We struck up a conversation.   Turns out that Micheal is a single parent, divorced from his wife who now lives "...somewhere in the hellish bowels of Alabama".  He got custody of his daughter because "...my ex is "...too busy finding herself a rich plantation owner.  That's okay though because this little girl makes me a most blessed man."   We talked about what I was doing in town (drinking Starbucks for hours and hours???) and how someone should hook up with the RV parks to offer kayaking and river-fishing lessons to the yuppie RVers from the city.   Long and short of it, Michael gave me his number and offered to teach me both "...next time you come passing through when the weather is a bit warmer."   We got to talking about all sorts of "Solutions To The World's Ills" and somehow, after about 20 minutes or longer, we ended up very briefly on the subject of Sarah Palin.   Michael backed off and pointed rapidly to his daughter.  She reared up at Palin's name and scowled: "She's not only ignorant, she's a total phoney. We all know that."  I made the mistake of rebutting without thinking: "Well, I can't believe that she was able to fool you people up here in Alaska for so long."  To which Little Maddie correctly, astutely and promptly responded: "Well, you Texans have your Governor Perry, so there."

Whoa!!  You go kiddo!   She had me on the floor with laughter.  She explained that all the kids her age take an active interest in their Current Affairs class at school.   I left Starbucks that day in Soldotna, Alaska filled with more hope for the future than in a long, long time.    

Perhaps we'll meet again one day, Mr. Michael and "Maddie".   In the meantime, thank you both!

And fifty yards from Safeway/Starbucks, sharing the same parking lot there is a McDonalds....

...and in this McDonald's there works the most compelling person I met when I visited Soldotna, Alaska.

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"Hey, let me know if you want a refill and I'll get it for you."

I thought I'd made a mistake in coming in to McDonald's; there were so many young kids; teenagers.  But I wanted to continue working on my blog,  and I felt I'd overstayed my welcome at Starbuck's and I'd heard that McDonald's has free WiFi.  So I waddled on over and ordered an unwanted cup of coffee just to have an excuse to sit and use their internet. 

Dillon is a busboy at McDonald's.  Bespecled and built like a reed, he seemed like a typical average-looking "nerdy-type" teenager.  I'd not really noticed him except from the corner of my consciousness he seemed popular with a few girls when I first walked in.  His offer of a refill was upbeat and friendly, and I was immediately impressed by his outgoing personality. 

"I normally don't come in until later on Saturdays, but they called me at 8:30 this morning and asked me to come in.  I guess everybody just had to have McDonald's pancakes this morning.  What a mess too! I hate to say anything bad about minorities, but some of those, you know,  Hispanics.  Well, they just never clean up or take their trays away." 

"You know?  I really don't like working here.   It's been 4 long years.  I can't believe it's been that long.  But where else can I go?   I used to work at Subway, but it was boring.  At least here the clients are nice and I get to talk to them if it's not too busy.  I can probably get you some cookies for free too if you want."   I declined.

Something seemed "off".  Then I saw a series: first, his pants were all kind of askew.  Sort of like how someone dresses when they have cerebral palsy or other muscular dysfunction.   Then I saw the slight limp in his arm and his leg.  I congratulated him on how popular he seemed with the girls.   He beamed, but then said:

"But I really don't have time for them.   I'm not gay.  I just have to really focus on my studies.  I'm a junior in high school now, and I have to take my studies seriously if I want to get out of here.  I've worked here a long time.  Each pay period, I keep $20 and give the rest to my grandparents.  What do I need the money for?   I give my grandparents the rest to help with food and living costs.   I live with them.  They take care of me and I give them money.   I worry about them.  My grandmother is disabled and gets a disability check from the government.  She can't work.   My grandfather is retired from the railroad.   He gets some kind of retirement pay; I don't know exactly what.   But he's just old and kinda run down.  They've taken care of me, and so I give them all my money other than $20 a pay check.  I keep that. I don't need it, but I keep it.  I don't have dates; I just work and study.  One day maybe I'll go to college.  You know I'd like to go to college and get a degree so I can get outta McDonald's.  I hate it here, but there's no other place to go like I said before.  Who's gonna hire a kid like me?  But if I can save my money and go to college, maybe I can get a better job and help my grandparents more.   They always appreciate my giving them money.   They always say they're grateful, and they're happy when I give them money.  What do I need it for anyway?"   I detected sadness in his voice, but also a fierce desire to convince himself that everything was okay and that he'd get ahead somehow in the future.

We talked about scholarships and how so many go begging for recipients each year: "Yeah, my teachers told us about that.  I think if I can keep my grades good, they'll help me find money to go to some kind of college.  I worry about my grandparents though.  I just hope they'll be okay.  Maybe I can go someplace close by.  I need to start saving money for college.   Last week I got all my money stolen at school.  I had $44 saved up. You know how I knew someone stole my money?  I suddenly felt my wallet was in my front pants pocket.  That's  how I knew.  I opened my wallet and all my money was gone."

He said that in a matter-of-fact manner.  No self-pity.  As if it really didn't matter, and that he'd recover from it.  My inclination was to reach into my own wallet and pull out a few $20's, but I had a very distinct impression that such an act would have confused and upset him more than the original loss.

"It was the first time that's ever happened to me."   Some other kids came by and tapped him on the arm as they passed, acknowledging his presence.  "I'll be more careful.   It just happens.   But it's nice to come in here and meet people though.  And they treat me good here.  They appreciate me; even call me all the time when they need extra help."

We talked about his plans for college and how lucky he felt to be needed.  Then we parted.  He had tables to clean.  "Good luck with your trip.  Have lots of fun."

I ended up learning a lot about Dillon and his life in Soldotna.  But in the end, I left with the disquietude that comes from having more questions raised than answers: Where were his parents?  What happened to them?  What were his grandparents doing with the money that he gave them?  What did he really feel about the loss of his $44 savings?  What does the future hold for Dillon?