Just Another Jim's

Alaska Journal

Ch. 3: The House

Posted July 21, 2006 by James E. Nelson

But our Alaska adventure did not begin at the shore of a quiet and primeval lake, there were some treacherous rapids that had to be traversed first. In particular, there was The House; and our first glimpse of Delta Junction didn’t involve The House at all. That glimpse was a video that the Pastor Nominating Committee sent. It was more interesting than helpful because it showed us the best (in contrast to the most important) features of the community and church. It was also the project of one person on the committee and emphasized her particular interests—flowers, the Alaska Range, the hand-carved doors on the church building. On both counts footage of The House didn’t rank too high.

Because of the cost of plane tickets, it was decided that I would travel to Alaska by myself to candidate. I took extensive video while I was there so that I could bring back a more complete report to Brenda and Chris. Of course, this arrangement was anything but ideal, but Westminster was interviewing Associate Pastor candidates, so my interim pastor position in Lincoln was coming to an end and school would be starting in not that many weeks. The pressing sense of a need to move outweighed the foolishness of candidating without the whole family present.

Brenda broke into tears when she finally saw the video of the house.

The House . . . It was actually a commercial building, one of the ubiquitous ATCO buildings so common in the far north. The Alberta Trailer Company mass produced these approximately box car sized modular units and shipped them all across the north land. Alyeska, the company that built the oil pipeline from Prudhoe Bay to Prince William Sound, bought many of them for offices, temporary housing, and recreational halls. This particular building, made up of six of the box car sized modular units, was once a rec hall. The “house” portion consisted of the back five units. The front unit was “the library” to the right, and “the commodities room” to the left.

The grit and glory of The House needs to be seen from an Alaskan perspective. It was much nicer than many of the homes in Delta. It was fairly low maintenance, which made it possible for the congregation to be able to call a pastor. But the congregation and the candidating pastor (me) had different expectation as to what defined a proper home. Alaskan culture is rooted in overcoming obstacles. The edifice of basic human expectations is built on a very different foundation in Alaska. What would have been anathema in most other places (a commercial building as a house), was simply seen as a disadvantage or romantic challenge in rural Alaska. The Committee on Ministry—that group of ministers and elders the Presbyterians in Alaska elected to oversee pastoral relations—may have had some reservations, but no one ever told the church that The House was not acceptable. It was, after all, quite a bit better than some of the houses Committee on Ministry members lived in.

The House came equipped with many advantages too. It was cavernous. Chris’s bedroom was so large that we were able to do batting practice (with wiffle balls) in the back half of the room. We hung a large plastic tarp about two feet away from the back wall and he hit balls into it. On long wintery nights he would roller blade up and down the central hall, occasionally make that sharp turn into the utility room toward the bathroom, and circle back toward his own bedroom. We could play basketball in that same hall, and when mom wasn’t looking, even throw the football back and forth. It was also located across the street from the video store and within easy walking distance of the grocery store and library. As winter began to fade we scooped the snow from the roof so it wouldn’t leak in the sun-warmed air. Chris could entertain himself by jumping from the roof unto the great snow drifts, then rolling to the ground.

But in spite of certain advantages, our sojourn in Delta Junction was always defined by The House. The windows were small and the rooms, though large, tended to be dark and dreary in natural light. The lighting was commercial fluorescent, so it never felt homey, although we could make any room overwhelmingly bright, which was an advantage in the long winter. It was heated with two huge forced air furnaces that needed large amounts of fresh air to function properly, so whenever the furnace came on, the house was drafty and cold.

No matter how beautiful the coast, we always had to The House. No matter how majestic the mountains, how amazing the wildlife, The House was always what we had to return to. In spite of the grandeur of the Alaska Range, which pushed beyond the sky in our backyard, The House towered above all else while we lived in Delta Junction.