of them for fear of spreading their unknown condition to the islanders. In a village conference of Marina Gunderson, Ol Chris Halverson and my school agent Chris Gunderson, we discussed the possibility that we might be experiencing a repeat of the world wide pandemic flu of 1918 which killed millions worldwide. They’d heard old fishermen tell about remote villages in Alaska being wiped out even when no germ carrying outsider had visited them. Contamination from that flu was said to have spread not from one infected person to others as with other diseases but seemed to be airborne.
Our situation was serious and someone on the island had to make some medical decisions quickly. If only I could get advice from some medical authority.
Over the years, the Alaska Dept. of Health had heard too many false emergency calls that they had developed a reputation of being reluctant to respond. To them a frantic call from a first year bush teacher might be considered just an over-reaction. I knew I might be ignored but sent a message anyway through our makeshift radio relay set-up. I asked for aid, but had no way of knowing whether the message got through or even if they would respond. But, when the weather cleared two days later, we heard an airplane. That Coast Guard amphibian was the first plane to visit Sanak since World War Two. We all ran out to see it drop a parachute high in the air. Even though it was a PBY-5A, capable of landing in our protected waters, the pilot chose not to put down in the unknown waters of Pauloff Harbor, but instead he delivered the cargo a quicker way. Their aim was perfect, as they dropped a cargo parachute directly on top of our bright green, newly painted, Quonset hut.
I picked up the chute and unwrapped it. There was just a bottle of pills without a label. There was no written information. Soon the natives started arriving at the school. I couldn’t send them away so made up a prescription. “Take 2 every 4 hours with lots of water,” I said, thinking it sounded very professional. When an official message arrived by mail-boat two weeks later, I learned that I’d been close. It said, "For severe cases, take 4 tablets to start with, then one every 4 hours, but never more than 6 tablets in one day and always with lots of water to flush the system." By that time, however, that sulfa drug, they had dropped along with my make-shift prescription, had cured the village.
One of the first community responsibilities, Marie and I learned, was to order Christmas presents for every child on the island. The order had to be sent out on the October mail boat so as to get the returns back by Christmas. One evening Marina Gunderson, old Sophie Holmberg and Marie sat down with the latest Sears catalog. They went through it ordering one present for each student and pre-school child on the island, selecting what they thought that child might like. A collection was taken from all the families to pay for the order.
Nov.28th Kids sure got on my nerves today. They just wouldn't settle down at all. Made a banana cream pie using just what I had-banana extract. We had been making model airplanes the day before and Sandy said the pie tasted like airplane glue! Well, that's the last time he'll ever get a pie from me!
Dec.10th It's been six months since we were married. Had a roast Emperor goose that Sandy shot for dinner. Sandy had to eat it all because I am getting a terrible cold. A fishing boat, the Alaco 2 came all the way from Sandpoint with the old used light plant Katie Morris sent to us. Started practicing the Christmas program during afternoon classes. Felt another earthquake last Sunday when we were lying in bed. They happen all the time out here near the Aleutian volcanoes, known as The Chain of Fire.
We didn't see the Garland at all during the month of December as the weather was too rough for them to unload. Were we going to miss Christmas because of bad weather?
However, Emil Gunderson took the faithful Thrasher sixty miles in rough seas over to False Pass where they’d left all our mail. His return to Sanak four days later included the cargo of our Sears and Roebuck order so the kids would have their gifts at our preplanned school program. Sanak would have Christmas after all!!
Dec. 18 Play practice all afternoon. Every kid had a part in the program that Sandy made up. Wrapped some of the 85 Christmas presents for the island people tonight.
Dec. 23rd All the upper grades with Sandy and I went caroling at 7PM. It's a shame to waste those good songs on all the drunks. On the November mail-boat, we got some Christmas decorations from my sister Irene, but there are no trees in the Aleutians. Sandy found a dead driftwood branch on the beach that may have floated in from Siberia, so we wrapped it with green crepe paper and stuck on Irene’s decorations. That was our Christmas tree.
Marie and I adapted a Walt Disney type Christmas skit with choral music for the enjoyment of the islanders. Every person on Sanak Island fitted into the old school storehouse for our program, some standing and some on makeshift benches. It was about Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. With our music and the gifts, the school kids performed well in their program. It was a real Christmas holiday for everyone.
Dec. 26 Had school in the morning. Gave out candy, oranges and apples that the Garland gave to the kids. We forgot to give them at yesterday's Christmas party.
One day, old Mrs. Sophie Holmberg came storming into the school and into our living quarters at the lunch hour. She first asked, "Did I disturb your lunch?" Of course she had, but we invited her in anyway. She came right up to within six inches of my face and shouted, "I want you to find out who infected my little Sophie with lice!" I politely responded that I would check every kid in school when they came back after lunch break. She accused the Hoblet girls, who came from across the bay every day by rowboat. That was like being from the "other side of the tracks" according to the Holmbergs, who seldom spoke with either of the two families who lived on that "other side" of Pauloff Harbor.
Marie and I checked every head that afternoon, running our hands through the hair looking for little white specks next to the scalp. Luckily we didn't find any, as the social implications would have been devastating for the family involved. Prejudice and conflict existed here even in this isolated small, fishing community. We used the incident to give a health lesson to everyone concerning washing hair and general grooming. Every week afterward we held hair inspections.
Every mail day was sort of a holiday celebration on the island. Peter Nielson, the postman, would usually tell everyone when the Garland was about to arrive. Then everyone would be anxiously waiting around the dock in front of the school. When they heard its steam whistle, the fishermen would get in their small skiffs and head out to where it would drop anchor. In bad weather one of the bigger fishing seiners would go. The mail-boat would stop about a mile off shore and the skiffs would arrive just the same time as the anchor hit the water. If the weather was calm enough, everyone would tether their skiffs to a drop-line and come aboard. Each seasoned islander would clamber up the sides like boarding pirates. Soon they would throw down the mail sacks and freight into the waiting dories bouncing along side. The men in the waiting dories would try to receive them safely.. A few times, in rough weather, mail sacks had been lost overboard. When that happened, they'd just shake their heads and say, "Too bad."
There was always a brief trading session with the skipper or sometimes even with a crewmember without the skipper's knowledge. That transaction usually concerned some Sanak smoked salmon in exchange for fresh food from the ship's supply or sometimes from a crewman's personal stash of booze. After the sacks of mail were delivered, the anchor would soon be hauled and each native would climb back down the painter or step carefully down the Jacobs Ladder and jump the remaining distance into his waiting dory and speed away to the Harbor.
When the sacks arrived at the small post office which was housed in the closet of the old abandoned school store room just across from our Quonset Hut, Peter would close and lock the door until he had the sacks opened and all the mail sorted. Many of us would be waiting outside the door. Usually about thirty of the total ninety people on the island would be there. By then it would be dark. Soon Peter
