It wasn't cold enough.
My first year in school had been successful. We lived about a mile outside of the village and I walked the distance back and forth every weekday. There were two ways of going about this: one through an open field and the other on a path high above the river bank. I preferred the second option, but this was only available until the snow had piled up enough to make things too slippery (we averaged seven feet a year). There was one house along the way. In typical Alaskan fashion, the owners kept a team of dogs on their property. These were fairly large dogs, being the kind used for dog sleds. I was relatively small, still, I was never able to sneak past the house without incident. Not that I wanted to. The dogs, upon noticing me, enjoyed barking and then charging full speed in my direction. I enjoyed watching their eyes bulge as their chains suddenly took effect.
During the rest of the year I had to walk through the field. For most of that time there wasn't all that much to see; or, to put it more accurately, there was less that I could see. It was dark in both directions. The sun wouldn't commit to an appearance until about 10:30. And by 1:30 it was all over. For just under three hours, by looking due south over the tundra, one could debate on whether or not the sun was rising or setting. In my morbider moods, I would imagine that it had been sentenced to death by drowning and was gasping for its last breath. Our teacher would make it a point to coordinate our breaks with what ever daylight there was. We grew less appreciative as the year went on.
Each day required more layers. Eventually, it would get to the point where I would have to wear four or five pairs each of socks and long johns and just as many T-shirts. These were topped with a regular button up shirt under two or three sweaters. I would also wear up to three pairs of pants at a time. This was topped with a scarf, a snow suit and some masks, several mittens, and a parka. The other students were much the same. The trick was to wear our clothes in such a manner that we could shed layers inside while still presenting some appearance of modesty. While it may have saved time to wear more long johns and fewer pants, it was not conducive to the educational environment for all the students to be learning in their underwear. The time it took to get dressed would eventually surpass the time that we could actually spend outside. At first, we would wait until our teacher told us to come back inside. Even then, we were reluctant, occasionally rebellious. Sunlight was, after all, a luxury. Eventually though, when further layering had become impracticable, the cold would start to win. It began with cheerful obedience at being called back indoors. It ended by just not going out in the first place. Being outside to get to and from school was bad enough. The sun provided a poor excuse to try it a third time each day.
And so during the winter, I would walk through the field in the dark. This path took me by a cluster of three houses. They also, in typical Alaskan fashion, kept a team of dogs on their property. These dogs always left me alone. It wasn't that they liked me any more than the other dogs, it was just too cold for them not to stay huddled together.
The days got longer and warmer. Spring came, enough snow melted, and I was able to resume walking above the river bank. And then school was over. Just when it got pleasant enough to do so, my daily trip was no longer necessary.
One evening, while sitting at the kitchen table, I looked out the window at the river and casually mentioned how interesting it was that large chunks of ice were flowing upstream. My parents weren't taking it quite as well. The next morning, we got in a boat and made our way to the school building across the open field. Our only means of locomotion was to pull ourselves along the willows. The oars and motor had been early flood victims. Things got a lot easier after my mother noticed that my sister and I, who were sitting in the back of the boat, were trying to help by pulling in the wrong direction. My father sent the family to Michigan until the worst of the flood was over. When we got back, the inside of the house was covered with mud. A few hapless salmon had made the mistake of venturing into our basement. The treetops were decorated with various pieces of furniture.
September came along with the new school year. I decided to take my preferred path above the river bank. Things looked different. It wasn't until I had to jump out of the way of the charging dogs that I realized a lot of the ground had been washed away in the flood. The chains were just as long but the path had moved. It was too late to take the other path but I was able to stay just out of their reach. Still, I would have chosen to miss the experience.
As I was saying, it wasn't cold enough. The only reason that the dogs in the houses by the open field didn't bother me was because they were too cold. They weren't nearly as nice in September. Nor were they chained. And so, after my first day of second grade, when all the other children had gone home, I heard my new teacher, who was looking out the window, ask, "Kevin, why are you just sitting there in the wheelbarrow?"
"I like sitting in the wheelbarrow." Finding it most necessary to impress my new teacher, I couldn't admit to being scared of "the bitey dogs." But I could only feign a predilection for wheelbarrows for so long. I'm not sure who would have won our battle of wills if I had not come up with an ingenious plan for getting past the dogs. I jumped out of the wheelbarrow, waved good-bye, and preceded along the riverbank path where the dogs were chained.
When I got to the point where I could not avoid attracting their attention, I turned sidewise, hands down at my side, faced them head on and began singing:
"Joy to the world, the Lord is come..."
They started to bark and began charging, but I stood my ground.
"Let earth receive her king..."
They stopped running but continued barking and howling.
"No more let sin and sorrows grow..."
Now they were just standing there whimpering . By the time the world was being ruled with truth and grace every last dog was sitting down and staring at me in absolute silence. I had achieved my own personal millennium. The wild beasts had been pacified and I was able to walk away while they sat perfectly still. I didn't have to give any more recitals because the dogs never bothered me again.
I had only seen a group of dogs hold that still one other time. It was earlier in the same year before school had let out. The days had gotten long enough for there to be light on the way home, but it was still cold. One of my friends wanted me to come over and see the litter of puppies that had been born a few weeks earlier. He also mentioned how clean they were. When we got to his house, the mother dog seemed a bit dazed. Her puppies, all in playful poses, were scattered around the yard. My friend had given them a bath that morning and left them in the house. After he had gone to school, his father, not being convinced that house dogs were such a good idea, put them outside. It only took a matter of seconds but they all froze solid before having a chance to realize that anything was wrong.
Wherewith shall I come before the Lord
And bow myself before his holy throne?
To give to him that which he does not own
I cannot, nor could I such things afford.
Yet, could he ask that I should take a sword
And slay my son for sins that I have sown?
Oh no! for just such love for me was shown
When his Son's blood o'er all my sins was poured.
When Jesus in my stead on Calvary stood,
He gave, that I might dwell with him above,
The righteousness in which I now am shod.
And he has shown to me that which is good:
Do justly, and at all times mercy love,
And humbly walk with him who is my God.
Wherewith shall I come before the Lord
And bow myself before his holy throne?
For there is nothing that I can afford
To give to him, which now he does not own.
And so he can't be pleased with any price
Of payment from the things that I have won;
Nor could he ask that I would sacrifice
To him, for all my sins, my firstborn son.
For price as this God did aforetime give
When in my place, for sins, his Son there stood
And I, in his, received the right to live.
For he has shown to me that which is good-
That I should justice do and mercy love
And humbly walk below with God above.
Serenely sitting sipping sodas, seventy sinister savages said, "Sooth, Sir Samson, shall she surely sleep so soundly, snoring so? Shouldn't someone, shrill sounds screaming, stop such selfish slumberings? Supper's slowly seeping savor, shan't she serve some somewhat soon? Studies show such sluggish service soon shall see some stomachs svelt. Soon surrounding such subordinates, skinny shapes shall skeletal seem. Shall such stigmas stick so strongly? Shall she see some stultified, sallow, sunken, sapless, shrivelled, salivating, smelling sop? Surely sir, such stupefaction shan't successive strokes subjoin?"
Said Sir Samson, "Stop such sayings, scanty, scabious scalawags. Something slightly saponaceous seriously sinister savages scrubbing soon shall see some soundly sleeping servant serve some salted soup."
Seventy scoured scholars slurping soup slurp such sardonically- saddened so since such satiety seems somehow somniferous.