Horsin' around
Don Coldsmith, Syndicated Columnist
Originally published 01:34 p.m., June 23, 2008
Updated 01:34 p.m., June 23, 2008
It MUST have been in December 1994 that the phone rang — a call from a publicist at Bantam-Doubleday-Dell, my publisher.
After the usual greetings, he got down to the point.
“Would you be willing to take a promotional tour to Alaska?”
Well, that took only a moment to consider. Of course I would — but wait — it was for a promotion for a couple of books that were due for release in February and March 1995 — books are usually available two or three weeks before the official release — January or February — Alaska? Go slow here, Don —
“When did you have in mind?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
He laughed. “Oh, not right away! How about in June?”
June was already pretty full, with a publicity tour and book signings in southern Missouri, the Tallgrass Writing Workshop at Emporia State and the annual Western Writers’ Convention in El Paso.
But how often does a chance like this happen? I quickly checked my pocket calendar. There was a week there in the middle.
“Sure,” I said as calmly as I could, “if it could be between these dates.” I gave him my schedule.
“That will work,” he said agreeably. “Now, if Edna wants to go, I can tell you what her ticket will cost. And, you may want to stay over an extra day or two to see the sights.”
I was afraid I’d wake up and find I was dreaming all this. A chance to see Alaska! It’s a place we’d always wanted to go anyway, but had never felt we could afford it. This way, though, my expenses would be covered and we’d be responsible only for her plane fare and a few incidentals. Dates would be worked out later, right up to the last day or two as new appearances and book signings were added.
I sauntered casually out to the kitchen to ask Edna if she’d like to go to Alaska with me. I think they almost heard her acceptance in Fairbanks. But pretty soon she returned to earth and began to ask details, which of course we didn’t have yet. We’d get those later.
Now to back up a bit, there was a time when I actually considered settling in Alaska. I was just about to be mustered out of the Army and I happened to pick up a copy of a magazine from Alaska, then Alaska Territory, before statehood. There was an article about homestead land still available.
It was an intriguing thought. I had no major responsibilities yet. I had just turned 20. (I would not meet Edna for another 10 years, but I didn’t know that yet, of course). The thing that really hooked me was something I hadn’t known: Military service could be counted against time necessary to prove out on a homestead, month for month. Not only that, combat time counted double.
Wow! I quickly counted on my fingers — the way it worked out, I’d have considerably more than half my homestead time already served. I requested and received the necessary papers to fill out, along with maps and more detailed requirements. I was narrowing it down to an area on the Kenai peninsula, where the Japan current warms the southern shores. I was planning what sort of log structure I could build and making sketches.
I was discharged in August and arrived home to Kansas about the sixth. I realized that by the time I got to Alaska and filed my homestead claim, it would be too late to start building a place to live. Too expensive to stay there, or to travel back and forth. Travel was almost entirely by ship.
So, I might as well enroll in a semester of college and defer the homestead to next spring, I figured. Then I’d have the summer to begin to build.
Well, the best-laid plans are sometimes diverted. During that first semester of college at Baker University, my hormones began to whisper to me. I realized that there were girls in college and very few in the Kenai. I had just spent a while in the Pacific and — well, Alaska would still be there, right?
That was true. It still is there, but I never did get up to see it until June 1995. Regrets? Not really. I would never have met Edna —
See you down the road.
Author and columnist Don Coldsmith lives in Emporia.