Excerpts from Parallel Logic

Another favorite gathering place—and the only restaurant in town opened year round back then—was Al’s Eskimo Cafe. There was a place called Brower’s Cafe, but it only opened in the summer for the tourists. It was tradition to go there at least once a season and eat a bowl of reindeer soup while listening to the tour guides’ latest spiels about Barrow.

Al’s Eskimo Cafe, owned and operated by Al Hopson Sr., was the really special place. It was the original highway greasy spoon translated into tundra ambiance. I wouldn’t have been surprised if, after downing one of those wonderful

I left for Alaska on October 1, 1972. I was accompanied to the airport by a large contingent of relatives who seemed unduly concerned that this move would somehow lead to my permanent removal from their circle. Although in hindsight that proved more true than not, at the time I found myself wondering if my grandparents had had to endure this when they departed for America. Of course, at that point I wasn’t too sure the move was as bright an idea as it had seemed when first conceived. Some things are much cloudier in the light of stark reality