A Day in the Life of Chaos

When I was a child growing up on MacINNES St. in the frozen northern town of Anchorage, Alaska, my world seemed like a world unto itself.  It was a clearly defined nation state with borders I needed a passport stamp from my parents to cross.  Wide roads acting as frontiers ringed the nation with seemingly impenetrable traffic.  Around my house there was a vast menagerie of streets that seemed to wind their way through all forms of terrain, perfect for a bicycle.  There were hills, gravel areas, circles that safely went around and returned to where they started.  Best of all, there were trails that skirted houses.  They led to areas that seemed vast and wild.  We gave them names like Burlington Woods and the Swamp near Geneva Woods.  Each had their own characteristics, places filled with secret trails, hiding spots and rafts of old wood.  These were the National Parks of our country, places where kids were kids and parents were a distant shout from a porch calling for dinner. My so

A few weeks back I wrote an essay on things that go yelp in the night.  It was a recounting of a terrible sound that nearly froze my blood in the darkness of the night.  Coyotes were on the loose.  Nature was at my back door.  I live in a town with a buffer of woods edging the back of my property.  It is an area where deer roam and coyotes stalk the night.  Snakes hide under rocks by a stream and turtles move from sun spot to sun spot.  Hawks circle over head and occasionally a lake heron will fly buy surveying the gold fish and koi in my ornamental pond. While frightening and savage there is something peaceful about knowing I coexist with the natural world so close to my door. Just beyond the flickering light of the Animal Channel on my 56 inch LCD tv is a primeval world of hunters and the hunted. The people that populate my job are a curious mix of educated northerners transplanted here by some cosmic design and red neck Task Force officers.  A Task Force officer is simply a pol