insurgent49

December 22, 2006
The Tao of Waitressing
by Lindsay Luckey, insurgent49

Yesterday was the darkest day of the year.

Any Alaskan who’s traveled outside of our great state can attest to the fact that one of the top ten things that amazes “outsiders” is how we can survive the long, cold, dark winters. The lack of sunlight is right up there with living in igloos, taking dog sleds to work and clubbing baby seals.

But even with one of the shortest days in the world, we (Anchorage) still had a heavenly five hours and 27 minutes of light yesterday. And, had the snowstorm ever let up, we would’ve had a beautiful sunrise and sunset at times when most people are all awake and can enjoy them. Our friends to the north though, in say Barrow, had no sunlight. At all. Zero hours of sunlight.

While it’s no question that the lack of light affects people and their moods, the longest night of the year is cause for celebration.

Scandinavian countries with similar latitudes are especially adept at this. In Japan, the seasons are very distinct so their separators (solstices and equinoxes) are party days too. I have several friends in town who attended solstice parties, some the descendants of Scandinavians and the others merely hippies.

And conveniently, the solstice happens to fall around a couple of pretty popular holidays. When talking to people about their Christmas, Hanukkah and (fill in religious winter holiday here) plans, there are few people who seemed 100% excited about the all inclusive “holiday season”. For a lot of people, this time of year means last minute shopping, cleaning and cooking for unappreciative guests, too many parties and obligations than time allows for and snowstorms adding to already clogged traffic arteries. Many have expressed a desire for the holidays to “just be over with already”.

I waited on a table of six young men at one of my jobs last week. They were in a festive mood, but not because of the coming holidays. Theirs was a bachelor party. Having not known it was a bachelor party until they were leaving, I was impressed with their attitudes and respect towards me as their waitress, especially after a few drinks. I enjoyed serving them not only because they were so friendly to me and fun to talk to, but also because they were genuinely enjoying each other’s company. I thought they must have been old high school friends reunited, a group of fraternity brothers or teammates of some kind.

The next day I saw the groom-to-be. After expressing my happiness that he was still alive after a night of debauchery, he thanked me for the nice experience they had had dining with me and apologized if any of his friends had been disrespectful. I told him they hadn’t and that I’d had fun serving them for the above mentioned reasons.

I asked him what connected his group of friends. I was utterly shocked when he replied that he and his five friends were medics who had recently returned from Iraq. We talked a little more and I could see that anything more than surface level questions about his experience were too painful to talk about, or even really think about.

They’d just finished with the “don’t beat your wife when you get home” training and I thought about how long it took me to process all of the things I’d seen and done on my extended travels abroad. I had to deal with being a minority, not understanding the language and missing friends and family. Those were hard enough without also being an unwelcome liberator, treating my friends’ battle wounds and having to say goodbye to some forever.

I put up some mistletoe yesterday in my house and read a little blurb on the back of the package about how mistletoe came to be a plant we hang and kiss under during the holidays. According to Norse mythology, the god Balder was killed by an arrow of mistletoe and after that, his mother, the goddess Frigga, vowed that mistletoe could never again be used to hurt and would instead be a symbol of peace and love.

I also read in the paper yesterday that our president is considering sending another 15,000 to 30,000 troops to Iraq.

A dark day indeed.

Slowly but surely, the sun will come back. Let’s put down our arrows and kiss.
And if you’re not holding an arrow, remember to appreciate the kisses and light that you do have.

Lindsay Luckey is a waitress and aspiring Renaissance woman. She lives and works in undisclosed locations in downtown Anchorage, and can be reached at lindsay@insurgent49.com..

- Columnists -

Editor's Desk
by Aaron Selbig

Rank and File
by Nova Stubbs

Red Alert
by Soren Wuerth

Alaskan In Exile
by Neil Zawicki

The
Bramble Bush
by Kevin Morford

The Tao
of Waitressing
by Lindsay Luckey

- column archive -

December 15, 2006

December 8, 2006

- also by this writer -

The Least We Can Do

The Tao of Waitressing