Mim’s Missives

While I was in Wrangell, Alaska for a church meeting, my eye was frequently drawn to an old, dilapidated shed across the street from the equally old lovely Episcopal Church. One morning, as I was enjoying the unusual sunshine, a friend told me a story about this old fallen-down building, and about a native custom I was not familiar with.

My friend took me across the street and down the sidewalk to look through an old broken window of this leaning, sagging building. We looked across old furniture, and bits of ancient detritus, things which I had already noticed before, until down at the other end of the building, in the midst of the shadows, he pointed out the dull metallic red hiding under a fallen roof.

The now-dead owner of the car and the building was passionate about cars. Now, you need to understand that Wrangell is not like any old town. This small community is on an island, Wrangell Island, which is not connected to the mainland. And there are only so many miles available to drive on. But never mind all that. The Corvette is something like a 1956, I think. Sorry, you car fanatics, I didn’t write down the year. And apparently, it was not injured when the roof collapsed on it. Now, why, you ask, is the car still in there when the owner has passed on and the building is of no possible use? A reasonable question, no doubt. Practical, aren’t we?

And here’s the lesson on Tlingit customs. Please remember that this information is gained third hand so I may have some facts wrong. It turns out that these people believe that if the person’s home is torn down you lose the memory of the owner. So they leave the empty building until it is time to tear it down. When is that? I don’t know - I guess when it’s time, it’s time. So there you have it. An old car, in an old shed, a man loved, and a man died. And he’s not forgotten.