Umbrellas

Let me begin by saying how thankful we are in Juneau for tourists. It is a gift to have guests and show off the land we love. Thank you for visiting. 

And now two confessions:
1. We are always a bit relieved when October rolls around and the ships stop coming. It's like after company leaves and our entire town puts on pajamas to lounge on the sofa and drink wine. I personally appreciate the return of quiet. There were no helicopters, crowds, or float planes when I hiked today to disrupt the melody of the water and wind.

2. If you visit Juneau and carry an umbrella or wear a poncho, then we point and laugh. I'm sorry.  I don't know why this is true, but those things seem appropriate for Disney not a rain forest. An umbrella is a sure sign that you're not from here because people who live with 285 days of precipitation know how to handle rain.


Those of us who live here wear whatever and get wet. Like idiots. Or locals. However you want to cut that one.

I've given into the Juneau pressure to fit in. I'm not sure if it is self-consciousness, pride, or seeking acceptance, but I just stood in the pouring rain with lots of other parents at a cross country meet without a rain coat, umbrella, or poncho. It's like defying the wet of the rain. 

We live with so much rain, we don't need any protection; we're above it. 

Except we're not; I was cold and wet. 

The web of self-consciousness, trying to fit in, and pride can tangle me into some stupid choices. I'm old enough to know this. There have been too many opportunities I've passed up because I thought I might look ridiculous or get teased.

So, I've started carrying an umbrella on Sundays. I always walk to church on Sunday morning regardless of weather and one Sunday I was wrapping my backpack so it didn't get wet and putting on all my rain gear because I didn't want to show up to church all wet, when it finally hit me that I could use one of the myriad of umbrellas my parents have either brought or purchased when they visit. 

I carried an umbrella while walking on a busy street. 

People did point and laugh. I took some heckling, but I realized two things:
1. I stayed dry with less effort

2. Umbrellas make me happy. I sang Singing in the Rain and Mary Poppins' songs the whole way. The pointing and laughing might be related to that, too.

This past Sunday was a little too windy for an umbrella and I started thinking how amazing a transparent poncho would be (I don't know why transparent, they just seem a little cooler), but I'm not quite self-confident enough to walk down the street in a transparent poncho yet.