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Debbie
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![]() Rocking the dock around five years old, Taku Lodge |
![]() Constructing the bear proof box, Snettisham Homestead |
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I was born in Juneau, Alaska, and raised at the edge of the Taku River. My mother, Kathy (Gilbreth) Maas, arrived in Juneau from Flagstaff, Arizona, to teach elementary school at the age of 20; my father, Ron Maas, was raised in Watertown, Wisconsin and moved to Alaska in 1960. Both musicians, they met in the Juneau Symphony. By a lucky chance, the Taku Lodge fell into my dad's hands in 1972 when the bank asked Maas Realty if it wanted to purchase the property after the previous owners went bankrupt. My parents were married at the lodge and opened it in 1979 as a cruise ship attraction; tourists flew in over the Juneau Icefield and then landed at the lodge for a homemade salmon bake dinner and a stroll around the picturesque property. I was two when the lodge opened and spent every summer there until I was fifteen and the lodge was sold into other hands. My summers at the lodge were...well, quite indescribable. A thousand tourists told me how lucky I was to live there, but of course I did not understand that until my last few years there, and then not fully until it was gone. I was happy, raising Canada geese, getting to know black bears, feeding squirrels, exploring the woods, sitting in endless contemplation on the riverbank, watching the world go by from the branches of the cottonwood tree, canoeing through the sloughs behind the lodge, picking strawberries and blueberries for my shredded wheat in the morning, (when I didn't eat fresh oatmeal raisin cookies), flying onto remote mountain lakes where I swam in cold, clear water, fishing on Johnson Creek, reading by the wood stove at night while the mice scampered across the floor. All nostalgia aside, I was happy, if somewhat melancholy, with few exceptions. In the fall, my family moved back to our house in Juneau so my brother Michael and I could attend school. The transition from living in the wilderness without my peers to school life was always difficult and I felt the same confusion in reverse each spring. As I aged, the fall transition became easier and the spring transitions harder (though I was always grateful in time). After I started my sophomore year of high school,
my parents sold the lodge and built a cabin on their new property at
Bullard's Landing three miles south of the lodge. I spent much of
the following summer there, but less so thereafter. After
graduating from Juneau-Douglas High School, I was
lucky
enough to be accepted into the Oberlin Conservatory of Music. I
moved to Oberlin, Ohio, where I spent three semesters immersed in
classical music, but generally miserable. I finally realized that
living in a city, or living outside of Alaska at all, was not worth
anything, even playing the trumpet for a living, so I moved back to
Juneau. After working at a plant nursery in the summer and in
respite care during the winter for a few years, I returned to school at
the
University of Alaska Southeast where I discovered that I needn't have
left Juneau for brilliant, stimulating professors and life changing
classes. I graduated with a liberal arts degree in social science
(emphasis in anthrolopogy). Since returning from Ohio, I had reoriented
on the wilderness and on tourism. During summer breaks I worked
on tour boats narrating about
local history and wildlife, including on short
wildlife trips out of Auke Bay and day-long trips to Tracy Arm and
Gustavus/Icy Strait. The ocean became
more and more important until I wound up with a sailboat (now sold),
skiff, and
a full set of SCUBA gear and I'm on the water as often as I'm
able. For many years my vacations were almost entirely taken up
by diving. After I graduated from UAS, I took a job with the
State of Alaska where I still work, today with the Alaska Department of
Fish and
Game. In 2002 I began
building an eco-tourism lodge in Port
Snettisham with the hope of one day making a living sharing this place
with visitors. New Year's Letter 2003 New Year's Letter 2004 New Year's Letter 2005 New Year's Letter 2006 New Year's Letter 2007 New Year's Letter 2008 New Year's Letter 2009 New Year's Letter 2010 New Year's Letter 2011 |
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(though I'm happy to say I don't feel quite this melancholy most of the
time anymore):
Many a green isle needs must be
In the deep wide sea of Misery,
Or the mariner, worn and wan,
Never thus could voyage on--
Day and night, and night and day,
Drifting on his dreary way,
With the solid darkness black
Closing round his vessel's track;
Whilst above the sunless sky,
Big with clouds, hangs heavily,
And behind the tempest fleet
Hurries on with lightening feet,
Riving sail, and cord, and plank,
Till the ship has almost drank
Death from the o'er-brimming deep;
And sinks down, down, like that sleep
When the dreamer seems to be
Weltering through eternity;
And the dim low line before
Of a dark and distant shore
Still recedes, as ever still
Longing with divided will,
But no power to seek or shun,
He is ever drifted on
O'er the unreposing wave
To the haven of the grave....