My Wolf Brothers

This is the true story of an experience I had on our trip to Alaska several years ago. It was originally published on my website in 1998.


My Wolf Brothers

It was a crisp, dawn morning(about 9:30am, due to the time of year) and the sun was just starting to glisten on the snow outside the cabin. It was very cold as I walked out onto the wooden porch of the cabin and stood there drinking my coffee. I knew it was going to take several hours to get the Land Cruiser warmed up enough to take off again, so I was in no particular hurry. The cabin was in a remote village in Alaska called Tok. It's directly off the Al-Can, but that's not saying much as the whole village is about 20 buildings. Our cabin was on the very edge of this and the absolute wilderness lay a mere 50 yards from my cabin's porch. There was a small clearing for the cabin and then a solid wall of forest beyond. It was here that my gaze was fixed that cold clear morning. The sun was coming through the trees like a huge swarm of fire flies dancing everywhere.

I suddenly became aware of just how unusually still and quiet it was. I realized even the slight breeze had calmed. I've spent enough years hiking and camping to know that something was up. I sipped my coffee and looked around the clearing and peered as deeply as I could into the woods looking for signs of movement. (They had just recently had a few bear attacks, so I really had the thought of some rogue bear bounding out of the woods on my mind.) I had stood there for about 10 minutes and it was kind of mesmerizing to become so focused on the silence...almost like a trance came over me. I was deep in this state of feeling when I heard the most primal sound I've ever heard in my life. And it was very, very close to me. The long lone howl of a wolf pierced the silence like Excalibur itself. The sound shook through my body down to my toes. It was loud, much louder than I would of expected and long and deep and very low. The wolf could not have been more than 10 feet beyond the edge of the clearing. He was right there almost in front of me, yet invisible in the vail of the forest. I finally remembered to breathe a minute or so later, and had just drawn in that breath, when he repeated this long, low howl. I was totally transfixed on this sound. I could not move, only feel. It felt like the whole world just stopped. Then for what seemed like ages, but was only another minute or two there was silence again. I still couldn't breathe, could only feel and listen in this altered reality.

Then from the other side of the clearing, I heard an answering howl. There were two of them. This one was slightly higher, distinct and yet just as powerful. They talked back and forth to each other and to me. Then as if I could have opened the gates of heaven, I heard two more, and then another, and another. Some eight distinctive howls I heard within yards of the clearing. Like a chorus howling madly at the dawn. This symphony of wolfsong went on for almost 20 full minutes...as I just stood, barely breathing, allowing the sound to engulf me. I heard them rustle the leaves, I knew where they were. I heard them yip and howl and yip again, between themselves. They played with me, for me and yet I never saw them...not once. I heard their voices, listened to their song and almost danced with them, became them somehow and was playing in the forest with them. They finally howled themselves away, and I listened for another 10 or so minutes as I heard the last of them howl far off in the distance. I couldn't move at first. I realized I hadn't moved a muscle in over thirty minutes. My coffee cup almost frozen to my hand, I slowly sat down on the porch, and breathed deeply. I couldn't move or speak for maybe another 30 minutes as I just couldn't let go of the sound in my head and deep in my heart. I finally slowly came back to reality, but I will never be quite the same after that experience. I danced with the wolves that morning and I do still to this day.

Lost Arts...

There was a time..long ago..in my childhood, when all the other kids were out playing football and riding bikes on a lazy Texas Saturday morning. I however, was parked in my grandmother's dining room, pouring over the large, open volume of "Amy Vanderbilt's Book of Etiquette". I was carefully supervised by my grandmother in the art of setting a proper dinner table, as well as the proper etiquette for using each of the myriad tools laid out on the table. I was taught how to deal with waiters, how waiters should act and serve, how I should respond, etc. The reasoning for all this was to prevent me from making some horrific mistake in the company of finer society. I dreaded those mornings, but managed some twisted satisfaction if I performed admirably for my grandmother. It was just "expected" in my family growing up.

Later in life, I have found all that training to be a blessing and a curse. It has stood me well, in business and social situations, where I'm never at a loss or embarassed or nervous when presented with a formal situation. It has also proven at times to be seen as "uppity" or "snobbish", by others who are intimidated by my knowledge. The thing my grandmother didn't teach me, was that there was another side to life, where all those "rules" were invalid and any attempt to display them was seen as my thinking I was better than someone else. I had to learn when and where to use my talents on my own.

I've often debated whether or not any of it really mattered in the long run, except that it does when it's required or "expected". So knowing in that instance is still better than not knowing. My most common example being trying to take girlfriends to meet my grandmother. It always was an "afternoon tea" type situation..an audition if you will, before any other introductions to family or society could be contemplated. The first couple of girlfriends, I just brought to tea and it was a disaster. My grandmother could hardly contain her contempt of my choices. It wasn't that they were bad girls, just not schooled in any formal way and that was enough to scratch them from my grandmother's list. Slowly I decided that the only way I could have a social life that included my girlfriends and family in the same room was to "school" the girls prior to any meeting with my grandmother. I had a few breakups with girls who thought I'd gone off my rocker, but the ones that toiled and learned were the keepers and the ones that made my life livable and compatible with the whole of my being.

My grandmother passed several years ago and since then I've allowed myself to pretty much walk away from all that formalism, as it's no longer a requirement of my lifestyle. My mother although formal, doesn't "demand" the same social rigor. She appreciates it when it's there, but realizes that not everyone is gonna know the rules.

Fast forward to this Thanksgiving. Mom recently moved down to Tennessee and has been putting her house together and having a few basic social gatherings. She likes to entertain, hostess and set a formal table for the holidays. This Thanksgiving though, she realized that she really is short some silverware serving pieces that she'd like to have to finish out her sets. This is not to say that she'd never had these pieces, but as with anything in life, certain pieces disappeared over time through a hundred different paths.

Julia had already told her that she'd better tell her what she wanted for Christmas or she'd get another Lowe's gift card, which we really didn't want to do this year. Mom mentioned serving pieces and we thought..that's perfect and set out to find them in short order!

Then came the quest! I was completely shocked to find that serving pieces are becoming a dying breed. They are still available if you're willing to pay about $20-100 a piece for each for open stock like Gorham or Towle..but the basic stainless pieces are almost forgotten. Mom wanted basic stainless, nothing major expensive, just nice and functional to fill out her set. I remember even 25 years ago, when doing theater, we had to have inexpensive "silver service" as props for several plays we did and they were readily available. Walking into a store today, you can't find them. You can find a wide variety of flatware and cooking utensils, but even finding a basic meat fork, gravy ladle, or cake knife is almost non-existent. Part of it may be the small rural community I live in, but it took a trip to Jackson and 4 different stores to gather a decent array of the required pieces and it will be quite an ecclectic set as there was ZERO opportunity to find one brand and style to match for all the required pieces. I had also searched heavily online prior to making the trip too, but to little avail.

We did manage to gather a nice collection that she'll enjoy and use well, but it saddens me to realize that so much of what I was taught was important is just dying out, like an untended fire. I can't blame anyone, because I'm just as guilty as the rest for becoming lazy and uncaring. I guess that there are still social circles where all the graces are still practiced and understood. I know I'm not even confronted anymore with the need to know, except at my mom's holiday table and the occasional wedding reception.

I guess I just hope that somehow we don't lose the joy and beauty of a well-laid table, with all it's regalia and symmetry.