Cheers to the LCC2001 Folk. As if organizing an outstanding convention were not sufficient, they developed an Authors2Bush Program to send writers to outlying communities where writers generally do not go.

I told Kathleen Putman, the Program Coordinator, that I'd like to go somewhere different, and she obliged me, all right. My wife and I left Anchorage Sunday afternoon for Kotzebue, northeast of Nome, above the Arctic Circle. I've seen some gorgeous sunsets in Seattle, but nothing ever to match the sight of the setting sun as we were landing in Kotzebue. Snow - just snow - as far as I could see, the color of salmon. Like a scene on another planet.

In Kotzebue, our coordinator, Stacey Glaser, librarian at Chukchi College, did a superb job of organizing our activities. She was waiting for us at the airport, drove us through the city, and took us to the excellent Nulligvak Hotel.

Next morning, Stacey took us to Radio Station KOTZ - the only station on the dial, AM or FM, where Dead Air Dave did a great job of interviewing me on the air. Myra, my wife, had one wish: a dogsled ride, so after the interview, Stacey drove us to the home of Judi McClain, an experienced musher, where Myra helped Judi and Kathy Spirtes (another musher) hitch up the huskies; then, off they went for an hour and a half across the frozen ocean and tundra.

That's right: frozen ocean. Kotzebue is located at the end of a thin peninsula, and though it's a bustling seaport in (the short) summer, in winter the ocean is frozen. Snowmobiles zip across the ice in large numbers; so do odd little four-wheel vehicles, and of course, dogsleds. These snowgoes are not for the faint of heart; in my 2+ days in Kotz, I saw impressive numbers of people who'd had serious back and head injuries from snowmobile accidents. It also seemed like a macho thing to ride the snowgo barely clothed; temperatures were mild during our stay (teens to mid-twenties) and people were in all seriousness saying "It feels like spring", and we saw a teenager in just a T-shirt and shorts barrel past us on a snowgo.

After the dogsled ride and a restorative visit to the Espresso Shop (No, I'm not kidding; it was first-class), we went to the Boys and Girls Club for an informal session with the smaller kids. I brought along a number of music boxes (like the ones featured in my Thomas Purdue series), including a junker that I took apart to show how a music box works. This was Presidents' Day, and the children were properly impressed when I showed them a music box built when Abraham Lincoln was President.

After dinner, I did a reading/music box demonstration for the adults. My usual presentations at bookstores last about half an hour; this one went on for more than an hour and a half. Stacey's husband Seth is a writer, has a degree in Journalism from the U. of Montana at Missoula. He teaches a weekly creative writing course in Kotzebue, and the questions and comments I heard from his students (and other attendees as well) were incredibly insightful, intelligent and pertinent. If the audience had half as good a time as I did, it was a roaring success.

Next day Myra and I went to the middle school/high school, where we were shepherded through five hour-long class sessions with children between the sixth grade and the twelfth. Some of the younger ones had been at the previous afternoon's session, and their comments as we came into their room clearly showed they'd been listening, and their enthusiasm indicated real interest. Neat! I tried to gear my sessions to the different age groups, and was pleased with the results. We had some good discussions about why people write, how people write, the history of music boxes, and even got into some lively exchanges about writing about (and maybe even living with) people who bend or even break rules to achieve what they see as a good end.

Kotzebue was definitely a new - and wonderful - experience. Aside from the amazing landscape, the people were warm, welcoming, and interesting. To see the way a group of people live in such an extreme environment was a gift. People in Kotz don't pay much attention to time; schedules are approximations, and being late is not a rudeness. I will try to remember the patience and courtesy of these lovely people at times when my own life becomes a bit more hectic than I'd like. Cool it, Larry. It'll all get done.

I'm grateful to Kathleen and her team for the opportunity, grateful to the people of Kotzebue for their gracious kindness. Myra and I were treated like royalty.