The following was discovered in the cubicle of McDuffie Mirror Staff Writer Kristopher Wells shortly after his disappearance during a recent mission trip to southeast Alaska. We wish his family luck in the search; he will be missed.
It's almost time for our mission trip to Alaska. It seems like only yesterday that we decided to go to Prince of Wales Island, where there are few paved roads and only two ferries onto the island each day. My uncle Chuck - who's been there a dozen times - tells me that it's so remote it's the closest thing to a foreign mission field right here in the states. I like the middle of nowhere.
I'm writing this mostly because there are several things that you need to remind me to take, like deodorant. I certainly don't want to be building bunks all day up there and be stinky. Priscilla would probably divorce me if I did that. No, just kidding; she would wear a gas mask in public though.
Alright, some things I need to remember: bug spray because I learned the last time I was up there that the state bird is the mosquito; rain gear because they stop measuring yearly rainfall in inches and go up to feet, 13 to be exact; a backpack because there will be no pavement to roll a suitcase around on; medicine for motion sickness, not for the ferry ride but for the terrible road conditions.
Oh and as a side note, don't mention anything about hugging trees. These folks are all loggers who lost their jobs during the Clinton years. I might get beat up by some burly Alaska man if I mention that having trees for our grandchildren to see is a good thing.
Most importantly though take a Bible and a good attitude. I know that last one's hard, but you'll have to keep reminding me not to be negative and instead be flexible. Plans always change in a split second on a mission trip. I've got to remember that tiny Bible though, because everything I carry will be strapped to my back, and it ain't that strong of a back.
Other than that, take Vacation Bible School material to teach those kids about Jesus. The tools and materials for repairing the church will already be up there. And no, I can't take my guitar. Even though I'll be playing praise and worship music all over the island (kind of like a mini-tour) they tell me it's a bad idea to check a Gibson or a Fender on the plane. Besides I can borrow the preacher's six string.
Who knows? It's remote, and it's beautiful with all the bald eagles, whales and tons of wide open spaces. And the only crazy folks up there don't parade around town; they just want to be left alone. Sounds like an awesome place to live. Hmm. We may just have to see about that. I'll write you later, maybe.