Running Real

IMG_1266

I had two remarkable conversations last Sunday. In the afternoon, I spoke with and moderated a conversation with Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor. Usually, I like to spend at least an hour or so with my interviewee, a few days before we record. Unfortunately, the justice’s schedule was so full, I only had about 15 minutes with her before we went on stage. Nevertheless, Justice Sotomayor was warm, engaging and absolutely authentic.

While we spoke, she took the opportunity to step off the stage and saunter up and down the aisles shaking hands with the audience members and even posing for pictures. That was a first for me. By making herself available to the people, and offering thoughtful responses to the questions, she charmed the audience. To be honest, she charmed me as well. I will be posting a link to the video of our conversation when the producers release it.

Today’s posting, however, is drawn from my first conversation last Sunday, and it also deals with an authentic woman. I first met Liz Lyke before she transitioned to her current gender. I’ve talked about a group of grizzled guys in their 60s who gather most Sundays to ski or bike together. They’re called the SCUM, a moniker that stands for Susan’s Class of Unteachable Men. One summer, a few years back, a younger biker showed up and starting riding with us. Since he was obviously several decades our junior and injury free, we began calling him “The Kid.” The Kid was really strong, fast and took the sport seriously. He was also good natured – he let us call him The Kid, after all.

A little more than a year ago he, or I should say she, wrote a heart-wrenchingly earnest and detailed email to the SCUM explaining why we wouldn’t be seeing him, or rather her, much in the near future. He was transitioning to a she. (I found myself slightly disoriented among the pronouns.) With that email, “The Kid” became Elizabeth, or Liz, and she thanked the SCUM for giving her an opportunity to ski and bike with us.

I found the email an incredibly courageous expression of what was obvious a very difficult process. Liz was the first transgender person, I’d ever met. I was only vaguely aware of the national drama playing out with Bruce Jenner’s transition to Caitlyn. When I started Northern Soundings I recognized I wanted very much to talk with Liz and learn more about what led up to, and what followed after, her email to the SCUM. This posting is that conversation.

Word and Image: Peggy Shumaker and Kesler Woodward

6a00d83452fd3d69e201bb0878004a970d-800wi

More than a month ago I attended a fine event at the University of Alaska Museum of the North. It featured a collaborative project uniting Peggy Shumaker‘s poetry with Kesler Woodward‘s paintings. Far from an arbitrary pairing however, the project was very much a call and response between two friends. That evening celebrated an iteration of Kes and Peggy’s exchange captured in the Alaska Quarterly Review.  I say iteration because, as you will hear, the current conversation took on a life of its own.  Moreover, it isn’t the first time the two have worked together. AQR’s founder and editor Ronald Spatz had featured another collaborative project by Kes and Peggy in the review’s pages eleven years earlier.

However, the conversation that played out at the museum that evening  included another writer’s voice, that of the late Eva Saulitis. Peggy and Kes knew her well and the Alaska Quarterly Review dedicated to Saulitis’ memory the issue the featured Peggy and Kes’ conversation. That’s fitting. As you’ll hear, Eva was very much on the minds of both artists as they creatively responded to each other.

I had hoped to have both Kes and Peggy in my studio to continue the conversation. But scheduling wouldn’t permit it. I’ll have them both back at some point, I’m sure.  But we are fortunate they recorded a version of their conversation for Ron and AQR and granted me permission to use parts of it for this podcast.

I extend my thanks to Peggy, Kes, Ron Spatz, the Alaska Quarterly Review and Theresa Bakker from the Museum of the North for their help in making this program possible.

Frank Soos, Pt. 2

Frank-Soos

There is a traditional view of the writer as a solitary explorer of ideas, characters and incidents. The grand-daddy of the personal essay, Montaigne, serves as a good example. A member of the nobility, he had a dedicated room in his chateau where he would pen his observations in solitude. But most writers today have to work in order to serve their muse, and for many that means teaching, and thus engaging others routinely about ideas.

Frank Soos is now retired, but for many years he taught at the University of Alaska Fairbanks and he was good at it. As you’ll hear, several Alaskan literary lights had Frank as a professor.  But he has also forged some lasting friendships and working relationships with fellow UAF Profs: Perhaps most importantly, with the painter and art historian Kesler Woodward. Kes and Frank attended Davidson College together, and Frank’s writing is deeply informed by the visual arts. Frank is also married to the visual artist Margo Klass and the two have exhibited together and co-created several books. Finally, it should be mentioned the poet Peggy Shumaker is another retired professor and friend from the UAF English Department who continues to collaborate with both Frank and Kes.

In this episode, I ask Frank about his educational background and collaborative projects.

Frank Soos, Pt. 1

Frank Portrait

Frank Soos ©Kesler Woodward

An Interview with Frank Soos, Pt. 1

Almost 30 years ago I found myself in a University of Alaska Fairbanks undergraduate creative writing class taught by Frank Soos. It’s hard to overestimate the effect the class had on me. Until then, only two teachers had radically changed the way I viewed the world.  That fall, I found a third.

The thing is, looking at Frank you would never peg him as a prof. He’s tall, whipcord trim and sturdily framed, despite the height. He sports a mustache that vaguely suggests an outlaw in a John Ford Western.  That changes when you see him teach. He’ll diffidently shuffle into class, cock his head as if trying to catch a phrase just out of earshot and address the students. Unfailingly polite, he then leads, prods, and draws forth from the class observations about the assignments you only dimly imagined.

All of which is to say, Frank is a gifted teacher. He is also a lyrical and intelligent writer. Like Frank’s appearance, his prose is deceptively casual, even conversational; but on reflection you discover his deep understanding of literature and culture. His collection of short stories Unified Field Theory won the Flannery O’Connor prize for short fiction. He currently serves as Alaska’s Writer Laureate, an honor that coincides with the publication of his latest collection of essays, Unpleasantries: Considerations of Difficult Questions. He has also collaborated on wonderful book projects with visual artists, his wife Margo Klass and longtime friend Kes Woodward.

More personally, Frank contributed reviews to KUAC’s Alaska Edition, a public radio show I helped produce. His range was impressive, besides casting a critical eye on literature, he also reviewed performances by basketball teams competing at the Top of the World tournament. Those reviews date back more than a decade. But here’s the thing, I still get people asking me when the station will bring them back.

So, I knew I wanted Frank as my inaugural guest for Northern Soundings. I hope you enjoy the interview