In 1943, when I was 4, my parents moved from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, to Fairbanks, Alaska, where adventure was never very far away. We arrived in the summer, just in time to enjoy the midnight sun. All that sunlight was fantastic for Mom’s vegetable garden. Working in the garden at midnight tended to throw her timing off, so she didn’t care much about my bedtime. Dad was a Railway Express agent and Mom was his clerk. That left me in a mess. I usually managed to find some trouble to get into. Once I had a little fire going in the dirt basement of a hotel. I had tried to light a barrel of paint but couldn’t really get a good fire going. The smoke got pretty bad, though, and when I made my exit, a crowd and the police were there to greet me. The policemen took my matches and drove me home. Mom and Dad were occupied in the garden and Dad told the police to keep me, and they did! I had a tour of the prison before Mom rescued me. I hadn’t turned 5 yet. As I entered kindergarten, the serious cold began to set in. Would it surprise you to know that I soon left part of my tongue on a mental handrail at school? As for Leonhard Seppala, famous as a dog sledder, I think I knew him well because I was taken for a ride with his white dog team one Sunday. At the time I didn’t realize what a superstar he was, but I do remember the ride well. I was wrapped heavily and well sheltered from the freezing and blowing weather. In 1950, we moved back to Coeur d’Alene, but we got one more Alaskan adventure when Leonhard invited us eight years later by paying a visit to Idaho to attend a gathering of former neighbors of Alaska.