Well, we made it safely to Alaska. If you didn’t know we were going to Alaska, then you don’t read our newsletters. Shame on you! Nah, it’s OK. I know how that goes. I literally have 19,000 unread emails in my Gmail account. If you want to receive our email newsletters, click here.
Why did we go to Alaska? Well to sum it up: I needed more experience doing line maintenance. Maintenance that goes something like, “Hey you! There’s an airplane that shut off on the taxiway and it won’t start again. Go figure out what’s wrong with it.” Since we did such extensive projects at MMS, there wasn’t a lot of time-sensitive troubleshooting experiences like that. So I volunteered at MARC (Missionary Aviation Repair Center) in Soldotna, AK in hopes of getting a broader range of experience before we ship over to Papua New Guinea in January (Lord willing).
Because a generous, mission minded individual offered us free lodging in his log cabin, the cost of serving in missions in Alaska was about the same as renting temporary housing anywhere else. Being in Alaska also gives my children the opportunity to hang out with their nine Alaskan cousins because they live right down the road from where we’re staying! Our families will get to connect for two months right before we move overseas for two years. Plus: log cabin in Alaska! We couldn’t pass it up.
But our trip to Alaska is just part of a travel marathon. First, we drove out to Michigan to visit Janice’s sister, Erleen, who was home from Bangladesh where she’s been living for the last two years. Then we drove back to northern Ohio to get Janice’s brother, Eric, married off. My condolences to his new wife, Amanda! A Michigan fan and an Ohio State fan got married so I guess love does conquer all.
After the wedding we drove back to Janice’s mom’s house in Michigan where we stayed for the night before driving even further west. I decided it was time to try a new hairstyle, or lack of hairstyle, that I’ve been wanting to try for some time: shaving my head! It’s important to note that I shaved my head after Eric’s wedding because Janice wouldn’t let me shave it before the wedding. “We’ll be taking family pictures and, just in case it doesn’t look good, you better wait,” she said. I decided that was good advice.
Now I thought it would be easy to remove all the hair from my head but the hair put up quite a fight. It didn’t help that I was using an old disposable razor and a bar of Ivory soap as lubricant. Several moles got scalped. Multiple passes from a dull razor were required. The process took quite some time and the land was not conquered without some blood being spilled. Despite all that work it didn’t seem that I was any more handsome since Janice couldn’t bear to look at me. “Oh my. I can’t look at it.” She grimaces. “It just looks so painful.” Her sixth sense was right. My head not only looked painful but it actually was painful.
Now I know it looks shiny but it actually feels rough, just like snake skin or shark skin. I guess neither of them are known for their luxurious pelts.
I took a picture of myself and sent it to our Snader family chat group. My mom replied to the message with a single word, “Why?”
My dad was less polite. “You look like a gulag survivor.” A gulag is a Russian prison camp.
Back to my mom’s question; why? Why would I shave my head? Is it a cry for help, kind of like a Brittney Spears situation? Do I have a medical condition? Is this a mid-life crisis?
Well, take a survival situation for example. I can strike a match on my head since my head has the same sandpaper texture as that red strip on the side of a matchbox. Or, if I’m lost in the jungle I can use my shiny white head as a mirror and flash an SOS to search aircraft by swinging my head from side to side. It’s also very aerodynamic. If I have to run from a bear while in Alaska, I’ll take all the advantage I can get. After all, professional bicyclists shave their legs for the aerodynamic advantage when they race in the Tour de France. Surely not getting eaten by a bear demands even more dedication.
But really, the reason I did it is three fold.
1) My hair is getting thinner and, like a politician getting ahead of a scandal, I decided to go ahead and admit it. I wanted to see what the public fallout would be if I changed my hairstyle by just removing my hair.
2) The lowlands of Papua New Guinea, where we’ll be moving in January, is hot all the time and I couldn’t help but feel that a shaved head would be cooler in the tropical heat. It’s definitely cooler during Ohio summers.
3) I know several people who sport shaved heads and bushy beards and I think it looks pretty manly. Manly is an appealing look on a man. So what could I lose? A little hair? Off it came.
Early the next morning we left mom’s house in Michigan to go help Samaritan Aviation run their booth at an airshow in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
“Be sure to wear a hat while you’re in the booth.” Janice said.
“Does it look that bad?” I asked. She grimaced and reached out to gingerly touch my head. She just barely touched it before she quickly jerked her hand away and shivered. “I’ll wear a hat,” I said.
We drove around the bottom of Lake Michigan and up the shore until we arrived in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. We found ourselves engulfed in the largest airshow in the world.
Meeting People at OshKosh
Last year we went to Oshkosh and camped in a patch of poison ivy for three days just to get a chance to meet some Samaritan Aviation missionaries and see if we got along with each other. This year we were there helping them run their booth. It’s funny how time changes things.
I met all kinds of people from all over the world and was happy to share with them how we’re saving lives along the northern coast of Papua New Guinea, although repeating the same thing dozens of times every hour got kind of old. I tried very hard not to sound like a pushy used car salesman who memorized the manufacturer’s brochures.
I offended one individual when I implied that he didn’t know where Papua New Guinea was. He snorted, “I know where Papua New Guinea is! I’m not that uncultured!” Well, excuse me sir! You just threw a lot of people under the bus. It became a good conversation starter. “Would you be offended if I asked you if you know where Papua New Guinea is?” People would laugh and off we would go.
I met one of the guys who designed the Kodiak bush plane. He also designed the composite floats that we use on our airplanes in Papua New Guinea.
I met the son of the aerobatics legend Walter Extra (but I already forgot his name).
I met Ryan, the “Missionary Bush Pilot” of YouTube who flies Pilatus PC-6s in Papua New Guinea.
I met people from South Africa, from Zimbabwe, from England, and even from the mysterious land of Canada.
I met a woman who worked at the local airport so she could get cheap pilot training. She was so tired of dealing with airplanes that week that she didn’t feel like coming to Oshkosh but decided to come anyway. Then she met some folks from MMS Aviation, and, as “luck” would have it, she was in the middle of her search for low cost ways to get her A&P training because she wanted to get involved in mission aviation. I was able to give her first-hand insight into what an apprenticeship at MMS Aviation looks like.
I met a doctor who said he enjoys collecting missionaries, sort of like some head hunters used to do, but in a more financial, less deadly way. I immediately offered him one of our prayer cards and a free, lifetime subscription to our newsletter.
I met another doctor who tried to tell me that all religions are the same. I guess, taking him at his word, he sees no difference between being an Aztec priest who rips someone’s heart out of their chest while it’s still beating to appease his gods and being a Christian who does his best to lay down his life for the eternal salvation of mankind. That must be a very hopeless world to live in. I doubt my few words did little to convince him of anything but at least we got to say hello to each other. He was very supportive of the idea of letting our kids experience different cultures and was excited about what we did. We found things to agree on and I’m glad our paths crossed.
That being said, I’m still an introvert and Oshkosh is stimulation saturation. There’s loud noise, baking heat, overpriced food, hoards of strange people, and enough airplanes to invade a foreign country. In fact, the control tower at OshKosh is the busiest in the world during the week of the airshow. I knew I was overstimulated when I found myself pleasantly refreshed after sitting in silence for twenty minutes in a public porta-potty. Maybe that’s why the line was so long – there was a bunch of introverts hiding in the only quiet place they could find! Such was the case with me. I eventually felt guilty for occupying such valuable real estate so I slathered on a generous helping of foam hand sanitizer that smelled like old ladies at Goodwill, sighed, swung open the door, and reveled in the blast of cool air that was sucked in. I was ready to meet some more new people.
After church on Sunday morning (shoutout to Ascension Lutheran Church in Fon Du Lac, WI) we left the hum drum of chaos and drove back down around the bottom of Lake Michigan, through Chicago (where we had to detour around a burning car), and back to our little house in Ohio.
We had three days to clean the van, clean our huge pile of dirty laundry, and then re-pack for our trip Alaska.
I know I mentioned cleaning the van in passing, like it wasn’t a significant undertaking. Since Janice was cleaning a pile of dirty clothes so high it was experiencing snowfall on the summit, I took it upon myself to clean the van. I removed the seats, the car seats, and the floor mats and sanctified the interior with all the purity modern cleaning products can muster. Janice says it’s easier to be a patient Christian mom when your van isn’t all gross and sticky.
I agree with her. It’s funny how, after weaving violently through Chicago traffic with children screaming, putting my hand into unidentified sticky goo in the center console is enough to cause the safety valve on my emotional bottle of rage that’s been pressurizing for the last two hours to catastrophically fail. Janice will say something like, “Boy, I wish we were making better time.” And I’ll answer by baring my teeth and spewing spittle over the windshield, much like a lion who was just spanked by a cattle prod. So, suffice to say, cleaning the van is important before we travel.
I sucked enough dried food crumbs from seat cracks and floor crevices and scraped enough sticky goo from the cupholders that, if I rehydrated it with water and heated it up, I suspect I could have produced an entire Thanksgiving meal. I could have certainly recreated a #1 combo from Dairy Queen.
The van was a sparkling success and early the next morning we hit the road again. Since we were flying out of O’Hare in Chicago (because of drastically cheaper tickets) we drove straight back to the same stupid city we drove through a couple days ago. The pavement didn’t even have a chance to cool off. The gas station attendants were rubbing their palms and cackling with glee as I whipped my credit card like a cruel farmer beating a dead horse. Such is life when you operate a traveling circus.
Our flight to Alaska went very well. We could have flown out of Columbus which would be easier but flying out of O’Hare gave us several advantages. It was cheaper! Like half the cost. We could also get a direct flight to Anchorage and the way airports are being run lately, this meant less chances of being left to die after missing a connection somewhere. And we could get Janice’s brother to drop us off and drive our van back to his house, saving us any parking expenses.
The flight went well and we are adjusting to Alaska time, which is four hours behind Ohio. Adjusting to this time zone means going to bed as late as possible and sleeping in until you can’t sleep anymore. I can handle that.
The downside to all of this is that our poor children start twitching when we say, “Get in the van!” Every time the poor kids get in the van they never know if they’ll be strapped in their car seats for eight hours or eight minutes. We’re working hard to maintain some sort of schedule or routine but they are definitely out of sorts. I can’t blame them I guess.
Tuesday, I think ,is going to be my first day at MARC. Pray that I could learn a lot of lessons and pray that none of them will be expensive.
We’re planning on staying here until the end of September.
From Clam Gulch, Alaska… until next time…
Josh
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