24 Nov It Can’t All be Fiction
Sometimes readers of Fierce believe the stories are autobiographical. These readers seem convinced I’ve spent two bushwhacked years alone in the Yukon wilderness, assisted a strange little girl’s doll-napping, and considered diving off a water tower into six inches of water because my boyfriend left me for a stripper who worked at Dolls ‘N More.
They are wrong! The only time someone took me to the top of a water tower, I was seven and determined to live. And my only exposure to strippers happened while I supported a developmentally delayed client explore his community.
It can’t all be fiction those disbelieving readers probably think. And they are a little bit right. So, in the interests of transparency, here is a partial list of Fierce’s autobiographical elements:
-I watched in awe and admiration as a heartbroken man walked out onto the breaking Yukon River.
-I traveled by foot without weapons or common sense through grizzly territory in berry season just to see a ghost town that still had stained glass windows, school desks, hymnals, and a genuine gramophone (see picture for proof—of the town, not the grizzlies).
-I was fostered by a loving Aboriginal family who took me to the long house and canoe races and fed me sun-dried salmon and Indian ice cream.
-I befriended a decrepit old horse who roamed Dawson City looking for carrots and love.
-I witnessed a northern six-toed cat invasion.
-I dressed punk even though I didn’t like the music.
-I played a game called Ugly Cruising with girlfriends on Saturday nights.
-And, yup, despite a crippling fear of heights, I joined the first spring caravan of travelers driving the treacherous ribbon of road aptly named the Top of the World Highway from Dawson City, Yukon to Chicken, Alaska.
cartoon © Ian Holborn 2018