Tomorrow I fly to Utqiagvik, where I will be for four days. It will be dark there the entire time – I won’t see the sun until I return. Cloud cover is one thing, but total darkness is another. I get claustrophobic when I think about it.

And, no, I am not keen on the idea of flying. I wish that there was a train going there – that would be fun and restful. But I keep reminding myself that this is a two hour flight, the only one of the day. It is not like I am flying into Seattle, which is a major west coast hub, or having to make any plane changes. No rushing to catch a plane and having to take a subway to Concourse N.

Kiita Learning Community book fair

I had a few moments today when I felt an inkling of excitement about embarking on this adventure, but it was fleeting. I need to remind myself that pilots and flight attendants fly all the time, and in so doing, they beat the odds. Me, I’m going to be on two planes, so the odds are good I’ll return home safely.

If I don’t, and the plane crashes, Pete will read this and he will say, “she knew how her life was going to end. I should have kept her from getting on that plane.”

Bill Schmidtkunz went to Milwaukee, Wisconsin in order to see his family over the Thanksgiving Holidays. He’s probably on his way home now. He probably is taking the red eye from Seattle to Anchorage because this is cheaper than the daytime flight.

Bill’s going to be in the air a long time, and he’ll be in several well-traveled flight paths. I should be fretting about him rather than about me.

My phobia can be likened to those who get traumatized when crossing bridges. The odds are that the bridge won’t collapse, and the plane won’t fall out of the sky.

I remember being a kid, about 12 years old, and going through a phase where I had a fear of dying. I had to close my eyes when passing a local cemetery, and I would not, when at viewings, go up and look in the coffin. I outgrew this fear as much as anyone outgrows a fear of the inevitable. It consequently became a rational fear. And I figure that if I live to be 100, by then I’ll be ready to go.

Most think that the best way to go is to go in your sleep. I’m not sure that this is the best way. You just know you are going, and of course are terrified.

Terrified, that is unless you a person of great faith. Faith is a buffer – because you are convinced that there’s life everlasting, you don’t fret about the hereafter.

I don’t have faith. I also don’t have hope. The two walk together, hand in hand and every so often sneak a chaste kiss.

Will I see the sun before I leave this area tomorrow? Dare I hope that this is so.

Next: 328. 11/29/23: An Uneventful Beginning of a Short Trip