4th Place Winner: William Faulkner

Aurora

Aurora is my Grandfather Stumpy's home. Located across Kachemack Bay from my hometown Homer, Aurora is a group of completely isolated cabins that were built from scratch by Stumpy and his children in 1978. There are few places in this world that have contributed more to my individual character than Aurora has.

The unique Aurora experience begins on the drive over. When I was a child my Dad would use the hour-long boat ride to teach me the basics of boating: why the turning radius of a boat is always smaller turning with the current; how to take the waves at an angle; knowing North, East, South, and West. Now, since I have graduated, I spend the boat ride sitting at the bow of the boat. Riding at the bow of our little skiff in the early twilight hours is nothing short of my favorite place in the world. There is no more accurate representation of Alaska, my true home.

Surrounding me is Kachemack Bay. As the boat hums along the flat, early morning water, a family of otters and a club of seals dive under the water. The puffins join them underwater. Seagulls and ducks jump to flight. If lucky, we may catch a glimpse of breaching killer whales. Surrounding Kachemack Bay are the dark and still mountains. Real mountains. Not New England hills that New Englanders awe at and call mountains. Between the mountains are glaciers. Ominous masses of blue ice. Surrounding the mountain range is the Alaskan sky. There are no big industrial cities in Alaska, and therefore no huge light sources to pollute the sky. The stars are always out. Life at the bow of the boat is so contrary to the busy life that we so often lead. What makes it special is that on these trips across Kachemack Bay there is absolutely no sense of what Walker Percy would call the "everydayness" of life. It is just plain and simple pristine Alaska.

After the hour ride, we arrive at Aurora and dock, or "beach," the boat. After we say our initial hello to Stumpy, and give him our customary present of toilet paper, the usual order of business is a fishing trip. Thus, we kids rush to the Boathouse and prepare the rods: "Turn nine times; the rabbit goes through the hole at the base, and back through the hole you just made" (how I was taught to tie a swivel, which holds the hook onto the string). The whole family would then walk out to the mouth of Aurora Lagoon. Along the way, Stumpy would sometimes stop and make us distinguish "goose tongue," a nice herb to mix steamer clams with, from arrowhead, a lethal shrub filled with arsenic. The night's dinner would soon be caught, so fishing for salmon soon turned into a different competition: who could spear the most flounder. Though I hold the record for least casts with a fish (one), I never was really good at spearing flounder.

The typical Aurora day would then fork into many different events. At times, I would take a hike into the mountains with my family. During these adventures into the Alaskan wilderness we would cross glacier rivers, "guess" which way the trail led, and sometimes run into unexpecting animals. Other times, I would hike down to the beach at low tide and dig for steamer clams. A constant that I always looked forward to, however, was the nighttime. At dinner, every male member of the family would insist on making his own "secret recipe" for clams, halibut, shrimp, or salmon. A truly Alaskan feast was always in order, for it is genuinely hard to make fresh clams, halibut, shrimp, or salmon taste bad. After dinner, the musically-sound members of the family retreat to the beach and perform songs written by Stumpy, the most famous of which is "Three Little Buggers." It would be a long while until I went to bed. It will be a long while before I forget those nights on the beach.

Frederick Jackson Turner, in his famous 1893 essay The Significance of the Frontier in American History, postulated that the root of the American identity came from the struggles on the frontier. Specifically, Turner stated that, "From the conditions of frontier life came intellectual traits of profound importance." Furthermore, and maybe more importantly, without a frontier, America's unique identity would begin to fade. I have been lucky enough to grow up in Alaska, known by many as "The Last Frontier." The roots of much of my character are a result of the experiences I have had while growing up in Alaska, especially at places like Aurora. When attending a school like Andover, I have seen how each unique background affects the character of each individual. Though throughout my life I will undoubtedly explore new frontiers, the fear I have is getting caught up in the "everydayness" of life and forgetting Alaska, or better yet at Aurora. For doing so would be to forget the very characteristics that have made me who I am.