Did you know that Alaska is the only place in the country with a flag-stop train? There’s nowhere else you can stand by the tracks and wave down a passenger car to pick you up. This was news to me since I’ve been using the Hurricane Turn—America’s last flag-stop train service—since before I could walk. When I was a little girl riding the train to my grandmother’s little blue house in the woods was pure adventure, as I grew into an adult it grew into a lifestyle. So many of the core experiences that shaped me took place on that 77-acre homestead smooshed between the blunt foothills of the Talkeetna Range and the eastern edge of Denali State Park, a place only accessible by rail. My own boisterous family, the miles-distant neighbors, the Train engineers, conductors, hikers, hunters, and the wide-eyed tourists on that train car back and forth to Talkeetna were the culture I steeped myself in. From them, I learned the value of preparedness, capability, of camaraderie. I saw people jump to the aid of others without a second thought. I learned to look for opportunities to do the same. One year I helped break down a moose with a passing hunter who came knocking on the cabin door, worried he was going to miss his train if he didn’t have help dressing out. I participated once in the dire and dangerous task of hunting down a black bear who had survived being struck by the train, a harrowing task. One summer I met a group of river rafters in the woods and struck up a friendship that lasted for years and stretched across the continent. I learned to thrive on that homestead and the train car that took me there. I harvested cranberry and fiddlehead fern, planted gardens and cleared forests, dug rocks out of the creek to create a reservoir of clean water (and then learned how to use a marine pump and PVC pipes to route water to an old porcelain sink in my grandmother’s back yard). I learned to harvest lumber, and operate a one-man sawmill, I learned small engine repair, construction, wood stove baking, and how to build a fire. There have been drawbacks to a life spent continually drawn to the edges of civilization. I’ve given up jobs and education opportunities to be available to the needs of the homestead and my family. The desire to be out beyond cell range skews my perspective on the importance of civilized life. After decades of dedicating myself to the concrete and achievable feats of ingenuity that homestead life requires, I find myself inadequately prepared for a modern labor market. I need an education, and finding the money to do it feels like another challenge that can only be met by values like collaboration, ingenuity, and good planning. So I’m seeking to collaborate with you as a part of my broader plan to make this new challenge possible. If I could summarize what I’ve learned here that I couldn’t learn anywhere else, it’s that I learned how to be an Alaskan. I’ve learned what we value, I’ve learned what to expect of the place and the people, and how to participate in one of the most supportive and unique cultures in the world. I’m so proud of my community, and I’m grateful to be a part of this wild and lovely place.