The Famous, the Infamous, the Lame

“What did you do last summer?” It’s the proverbial first assignment of every school year, the essay everyone professes to dread, often because “I didn’t do anything last summer,” or, at least, “I didn’t do anything really cool last summer.”

My school days are long gone, though. Too bad. Because I’ve got some really neat stuff to tell about my vacation this year.

I had the chance to visit my oldest son, Jacob, in Alaska. Jacob moved to Anchorage two years ago, to take a new job. He’s loved it; he’ll never move back to Hoosierland, so far as I can tell. There’s something about the adventure, the challenge, and the excitement of the nation’s “last frontier” that has stolen his heart.

After visiting Jake in the 49th state, I know why.

Here’s some fascinating trivia that would make great filler for my “what did I do last summer” report:

Alaska is the English adaptation of the Aleut word Alyeska, which means “great land.”

Alaska spans four time zones. If a map of Alaska was superimposed over a map of the lower 48, it would stretch from coast-to-coast. There are uninhabited tracts of land in Alaska larger than the state of Texas. Denali National Park (which includes Mt. McKinley, the continent’s highest peak) is larger than the state of Massachusetts. But at 6,000,000 acres, Denali is small potatoes compared to the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Wrangell is the nation’s largest national park—almost twice the size of Denali and larger than Switzerland (with more mountains, too).

Anchorage is one of the world’s busiest airports. Why? It’s the number one air cargo transfer point in the world—as jumbo jets carrying merchandise between Europe, Asia, and the two Americas stop, transfer, and refuel there 24/7.

Over 50% of Alaska’s land mass is owned by the federal government. Another 30% is owned by the State of Alaska. The “native corporations” (owned by Alaska’s original peoples like the Eskimo, Aleut, and Athabascan) own another 19%. That leaves only 1% of Alaska for private development. But, that 1% is no small chunk—that 1% is still almost three times the size of Delaware. The North Slope School District is the world’s largest, covering 93,000 square miles (that’s almost three times the size of the whole state of Indiana).

Over 25% of the oil produced in the United States comes from Alaska. The state government’s share of that oil wealth means that Alaskans pay no sales or state income tax. They’re still mining gold in the Alaska mountains, too—and have been ever since Joe Juneau discovered it in the panhandle in 1880.

Alaska remains a land of astonishing opportunity—a place that seems everywhere to be “in the making.” The state’s motto: “north to the future” is more than apt. The culture of optimism, can-do, “let’s give it a try” no matter what the odds, is contagious and energizing. We can see why Jacob loves it there.

For all of the superlatives, though—for all of the spectacle of Mt. McKinley in stark relief against the deep blue sky, for the hushed wonder of watching grizzly bears, wolves, caribou, doll sheep, eagles, and more in the vast wild (yep, we saw ‘em all), for all of the breathtaking glaciers and whale-watching on the Seward coast (yep, we saw the whales, too)—nothing can describe the best part of “what I did last summer.”

The best part? It was walking off the plane in Anchorage and seeing Jacob Lyon at the gate. Because he works in the tourist trade, he has a security clearance at the airport. He was actually standing at the arrival gate, as we walked off the jetway. Tall. Self assured. Handsome. Grinning ear-to-ear. As he swept his mother into his arms and gave her a hug I was all but overcome. He is our first-born. Our son. The child we prayed for and prayed over. And now, he has found his place, at last, in the last frontier.

Wherever you go in the world, whatever wonders you see, the best, most fulfilling, most memorable, most life-giving moments are always those defined by relationships, framed by love. You don’t have to be a parent to experience this. You don’t have to be married to know this. You don’t have to go to Alaska to taste this. You just have to have a heart tuned to God’s own. And, if you do, you will find that relationships are the gold, the oil, the wealth and wonder of lifetimes.

If Jacob had been standing at the airport in Fargo or Timbuktu, my summer could not have been more complete. Seeing him made seeing Mt. McKinley look lame.

Okay, so Mt. McKinley can’t be described as lame. But, you get the idea.

What did you do this summer? Did you invest in somebody, somewhere? Did you find a hug—and give one back, too? Did your unconditional love become the summer’s postcard never to be forgotten? What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen this summer? Bless and be blessed, Madison Park. You don’t have to fly across six time zones to Jesus B. B Jesus wherever you are.