(Editor's Note: Amanda wrote the following as part of a junior high history assignment. She was required to read various primary sources dealing with the Trail of Tears and compose a letter to President Andrew Jackson expressing concerns with the plight of the Cherokee and other native tribes east of the Mississippi River. Amanda did a fine job assimilating the sources, expressing her opinion, and relating the event to her own world -- exactly what a history teacher hopes his students will accomplish)

Dear President Jackson,

    My name’s Amanda Friendshuh, and I’m from a small farming community in rural Alaska. All around my home there are small orange signs that mark Ahtna territory, which means to you have to have a permit to access the land. At first those signs were pretty annoying and I think my dad would agree with me, but that’s not important. Alaska gives its Native Americans first claims on land and each group has its own territory, and now I know why. Alaska didn’t want to treat its native people the way you did. The last frontier decided that the people that were here first deserved their equal share. And, I believe, that was a very wise choice.
    At first I admired you for your concern for all Americans despite wealth or background. You were from a poor family yourself and I thought you understood what it was like to be treated differently. As it turns out, I was wrong. You are a selfish human being, too blinded by the prospect of money to actually see what you have done. And I have to be the one to remind you that all people are worthy of respect and fair, equal treatment no matter what race they originate from.
    The five civilized tribes were prospering. They had a good farming industry and they were doing all right, despite white man’s intrusion. When you said they were “in a state of decay” I almost laughed out loud. You are a terrible liar. The only reason you tried to use that excuse is because you were afraid of their own success.
    After hearing from a direct source, my dislike toward you increased to a large amount, very near to the point of hatred. Samuel Cloud, a Cherokee boy who travelled on the Trail of Tears, described his hardships very vividly. His mother and father died, and had no personal possessions besides the cloths on his body; his only  recollection of home a swiftly disappearing glimpse of paradise. If you think about it you were responsible for his misery, you killed his parents, and you stole his near perfect childhood. I mean, he was only eight years old when you forced his family to leave their only home. Where’s your humanity?
    As if that was enough. The Supreme Court tells you that the federal government had no right to interfere with the Cherokee. But what do you do? Interfere, rather forcefully. Even though The Supreme Court doesn’t have as much power, you should respect their wishes because they are trying to do what’s best for all of us. They’re supreme for a reason/
    Justice. Just let that word sink in. When the founding fathers set up our government they used that word to describe its goal. You’ve taken that word apart and have given another meaning. So I guess you think it means cruelty, guilt, and unjust punishment. Is that what our government’s come to?  Accusing innocent people for the sake of land and money?
    Let’s see, you killed thousands of natives, destroyed thousands of lives, and became a liar, a coward, and a disobedient, greedy child. Nice job Jackson. So, “Mr. President” the next time you attempt to ruin someone’s life, listen to the Supreme Court and remember my sincere letter.

With the least of Respects,

Amanda E. Friendshuh

(I speak for all Americans)

    Combine an opinionated politician, an agricultural activist, and a caring community character and you’ll end up with David West. He came to Alaska in 1984 because of the ‘adventure.’ “I used to do a lot of hunting, fishing,[and] trapping in Washington. I lived down there...Alaska just seemed like the ultimate place to go to do all that,” he said.
    After a serious brain injury, Mr. West turned to farming for recovery. His healthy, home- grown diet and commitment to his animals keeps him going every day. “And after I got disabled and I had lots of time on my hands, so, I decided that I would give it a try and, uh, it’s been working out good for us,” West says.
    Mr. West’s opinions on politics compare to those of our third president, Thomas Jefferson. He describes our government as corrupt and believes it doesn’t involve the people as much as it should. He says, “I think there’s a lot of greed and corruption in the politics that are out there today and I think that it’d be simpler if they had less government and worked a little harder on ,uh, communitarian efforts to help people out. “
    He sells vegetables and raises animals for a steady income.  Wandering around his yard you’ll find pigs, rabbits, cats, chickens, ducks, and the occasional goose. He and his wife also grow tomatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, cabbage, turnips, radishes, lettuce, and many other vegetables. Mr. West has several barns and greenhouses that houses his livelihood during the winters. “We grow probably eighty percent if the food[s] that we eat... Just about any vegetable you can grow outside,” he said.

Though living in Slana, Alaska is an adventure all on its own, Mr. West has managed to work the grainy soil, and provide for his family. His caring heart has led the community for years and he loves where he lives and even winter will never sway his loyalty. “The part I don’t like is nine months of winter. The older I get, the less I like that,” he said.

 

In truth, we should thank Mr. West for being so dedicated. It’s people like him that make Alaska the warmest state there is, if you catch my meaning.“One time I was out hunting with a friend of mine and [we were] walking down this moose trail and I tripped and fell on my face and he goes, ‘Oh, you looking for tracks?” West said.

Thought of the day: How can learning about other people bring about major changes in your life? What can you take away from it?

    Congratulations! If you are reading this you have been born first. If any younger siblings or parents are reading this, close this link immediately. I’ll give you a second. Okay, now that that’s taken care of, I will introduce myself to you formally: My name is Amanda, to my younger sister I’m known lovingly as “idiot”, and to my youngest sister I am known affectionately as “Mandy.” I would love to hear all of your “nicknames,” but unfortunately we don’t have time for that.
     In this blog I am going to tell you how to survive as an older sibling. Remember the first siblings; one of them killed the other. We are trying to avoid that. I can’t guarantee the success of this procedure, so your siblings will grow to love or possibly hate you, whatever works for you.
    Being an older sibling can be tough at times, well, all the time, but if you follow these tips you have a 50-50 chance of survival. For the younger siblings who are reading this, which I know you are because you love to irritate, remember, I did warn you.
    Ten is a magical number. It controls anger issues, it’s a great teaching tool for siblings younger than 5, and it can help you get to sleep when your brothers or sisters are bothering you. This is how you use it: count slowly in your head 1, 2, 3… and so on. Once you reach ten you should see immediate results.
    Find at least one sibling who you can talk with freely or share secrets with. Make sure you know that that trusted sibling knows that you don’t share their secrets with your friends. If you trust no one but your diary, that works too.
    Take the time at least once a day to tell all your brothers or sisters that you love them. Yes, you have to mean it. Even if you don’t think that you can love all those siblings, you know you do deep down. If you express love to a brother or sister and they give you a weird look, it’s okay, they’ll get used to it.
    Patience is a virtue, usually. Most of the time you feel like your temper will take over any moment. Just refer to tip #1.
    Live, Love, Laugh, and in your case, Exhale. Breathing is often referred to as an excellent relaxation technique. It goes like this: breathe in really deeply and exhale really loudly. It will show your troublesome sibling that you are very mad. After “exhaling” talk really slowly to imply that you are about to blow (No, not your nose).
    So, Be thankful! Celebrate you were born first. This privilege comes with seniority benefits: your own room (usually), and you get everything first. Just try not to be commanding, irritating, or demanding. Congrats! You get to plow the road, make the path, and lead the way for your younger siblings. Therefore you experience everything first. Whoop de do. Yes, I know, so exciting, but try to follow my advice and you will be the perfect role model to your siblings. More or less.
    Thought of the day: “The Rule of Sibs: If your sibling gets something you want, you(1) try to take it; (2) break it; or (3) say it’s no good.”
    -Patricia Fleming (Though I wish I came up with it)

    Many people argue whether humans have the ability to create utopias. A utopia is an ideal place where everyone is satisfied with a stable economy, safety and protection, crime prevention, and a working community industry.  To put it short, it’s a “happy place” created according to a person’s dream.
    I personally believe that it is impossible to create a utopia. Many people have tried to create a perfect community, yet over and over again, they have failed. Why? Well, I believe humans have a natural tendency to make mistakes. To me this statement is not just a belief, but a fact. Think about this: have you ever gone one day without doing something wrong?
    Here are some examples of utopias that started off well, but eventually the creators made poor decisions:
    Brook Farm: Brook Farm was founded and created by George Ripley. Ripley had a vision: to establish a community inhabited by people from various arts: singers, painters, sculptors, etc. He saw the community working as a unified family. From 1842 -1843, the settlement was off to a great start. The 200 acre community was occupied by a boarding school, shops, and many families. One decision shattered Ripley’s dream. He was inspired by a man named Brisbane to enforce the idea of Fourierism, which required all young adults and older children to be given the responsibility of carrying out the unwanted chores. Some of these included killing animals for meals, cleaning up after horses, and repairing roads. Not long after this idea was enforced, the community began to fall apart. In 1847, families began to leave because of the new principle, though other events led to the fall of the settlement, After a serious epidemic of smallpox and a terrible fire, the utopia collapsed, having “gone up in flames.”
    Fruitland: Fruitland was founded in 1843 by Bronson Alcott (Bronson Alcott was the father of Louisa May) and Charles Lane. Their vision: to create a community made up of vegetarians. The establishment was small and not as popular as Brook Farm, but it was successful, for a short time. The members were not allowed to make use of animal produce such as skins, bones, and manure, and they were against eating meat. Because of this principle, many people were diagnosed with malnutrition. As a result of the sickness and strict diets, several people moved out of the community. By 1844 the community was abandoned after having only lasted a year.
    To create a fantasy land, people don’t invite just anybody in. They invite the most reliable, honest people they can find to help in establishing the perfect community.
    “All paradises, all utopias are designed by who is not there, by the people who are not allowed in.”
    -Toni Morrison, Online News Hour interview, Mar. 9, 1998
    If you were to create a utopia, what would you consider most important: giving “peace loving” people a safe place to live and live up to their “potentials,” or to prove to the world that it is possible to create a perfect world? There are communities that have failed because of people who simply wanted to establish a utopia so that they didn’t have to deal with imperfect or “different” people. The truth is there is no such thing as a perfect person. Therefore, no community created by man can ever be perfect. There are so many stories, but they all have one thing in common: the community isn’t really perfect, even if the creator thinks it is.
    People have dreams and visions about their “happy” place, what they consider a perfect world. People all across the world often refer to this idea as the “American Dream.” The truth is, no one has the same goal or dream. Everybody has a completely different “castle in a cloud.” How can drastically different people come together as one to create a community based off of another person’s dream? It seems impossible.
    “Nothing, not even a utopia, can necessarily make the pursuit of happiness a successful one that ends in capture. The best society can merely allow every individual to flourish in the pursuit.”
    -Daniel Nettle in Happiness: The Science behind Your Smile
    Utopias are designed by one person, while others live in it. Many people in utopias are deprived of living their own dreams because they are too busy trying in live up to another’s goals. Do they have the opportunity or the money to create a place that they feel safe? If Alcott, Lane, and Ripley had thought of people other than themselves, like the families that dwelled in their communities, perhaps their utopias could have been successful. 
    The idea of the American Dream has inspired people across the nation to reach for the stars. To make your dreams a reality, you don’t go the opposite direction. You run forward. Utopias are created according to a person’s dream. Instead of living someone else’s dream, pursue your own.

    Many leaders in history became corrupt because they believed they could change the world for the better. In other words they thought Power + Me = Perfect World. Hitler, a German military leader, thought he would be happy if the Jews were wiped off the face of the earth. Napoleon was a famous leader of the French Revolution, but he let his hunger for power get the better of him. Both of these leaders should have backed up a few steps and taken a closer look.
     To change the world you just need small, powerless you. It might surprise you how one tiny act of kindness can change a person’s life. A smile can encourage someone to apply for law school. A helping hand can lift another out of depression. To make it simple, the equation is: an open heart + willing attitude = a major difference. The truth is, you don’t make a difference in the world by accomplishing something big; you make a difference by giving of yourself.
    For example, a lot of my readers knew Dorris Eames. She recently passed away, but her beautiful heart and sweet memory hasn’t. She accepted people into her house and her heart with joy, not leaving anyone out. She gave of herself and made a huge difference in my life, and many others.
    People wonder all time whether or not the world needs to be changed. To be honest, that is a ridiculous thing to even think. The crime, violence, the corrupt governments, the debts, I could go on and on about the bad things in the world. But, the real question is, how you change the world. I have narrowed it down to three simple steps. The steps may be plain and simple, but they are extremely hard.
    Step 1: Love your neighbors as you love yourself. You may be saying “oh, the golden rule.” But think about it, if everyone did this the world would be very different. 
    Step 2: Make a difference. There are small ways you can volunteer all over the place. You don’t need to win the Nobel Peace Prize; you just need to show others you care.
    Step 3: Be a gift. You don’t need to wrap yourself up in wrapping paper and send yourself via airmail. You just need to give yourself by donating your time, your money, and your heart to people who need it.

                Making a change in the world is hard, but the rewards are endless. The rewards may not be apparent, or even worth anything to you. They may be as simple as a little girl’s smile, or a thank you note. But it’s not the gift that counts, it’s the reason the gift was given.

Thought of the Day: What in your life can you change that will affect someone else’s life for the better, and make a positive change in you?

    You’re probably thinking: well, duh. Cowards are well, cowardly, and heroes are brave. But what does that really mean?
     When you look up the definition of a coward, the results are probably lacking courage; somebody regarded as fearful and uncourageous. Well, that’s true. If you are a coward, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re not brave, it just means you are afraid to show the real you. People you might even regard as the bravest people you know always have a fear of something, whether it’s speaking in front of large crowds, or even trying something they have never tried before.
     Cowards are sometimes afraid of doing the right thing. They hide behind a fake mask and pretend to be someone totally different. After all, people are who they are when no one is looking. When they see someone doing something they believe is wrong, they don’t have the courage to do what’s right.
    A hero is described as a brave person; a person who has shown a remarkable quality. Heroes are often depicted as the main character of a story.  Heroes are not cowards; that much is obvious.
    There are heroes in everybody’s lives. Whether it’s someone you greatly admire for who they are as a person, or someone you respect because of something they’ve done. We all have heroes, but have we been a hero for someone else? Maybe you have done something for someone, but that someone doesn’t know you did it. That’s the best kind or hero.
    If you are a coward, and haven’t done anything “heroic” for anyone else, be a hero for yourself first. Stand up for what you think is right, and who knows, you might become a hero for another person.
    Thought for the Day: To be a Hero, rescue yourself.

    Christmas is just around the corner, and I’m sure most of you reading this blog are about to start out on another shopping spree. I’m glad you chose to take a few moments to read my writing.
    Every year, my aunts, uncles, and cousins all make a trip down to my grandparents’ house for Christmas. Last year I wanted to make the presents for my family instead of purchasing them. Unfortunately, I cut it rather close. In other words, I was sewing and cooking down to the last minute. Note to self: Never start getting presents together during the trip.
    Anyway, I should have thought it out more thoroughly. I was afraid that no one would like the gifts. After I thought about it more, I realized a significant detail I had missed. No matter how bad the presents turned out, it was the thought that counted. Even if a present to a relative is as simple as a hug, you just gave a piece of your heart. Each individual gift you give this break, let it be from your heart.
    This is the thing about a giving heart: it never runs out. If you keep buying gifts, you will eventually run out of money.  If you give from your heart, you will never go broke. Every gift you give, the fuller your heart becomes.
    Here is a great quote I found about Christmas:
“Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.”
-Oren Arnold
    Remember these things while shopping this year. And let’s not forget the reason for the season: Jesus Christ. He died so that we could live to give others joy. Our punishment was death, but for Christmas, he gave us life. His gift wasn’t expensive or something you could buy, it was simple.
    Thought for the day: The simpler the gift, the more precious it is to the recipient.

    Waking up early and scouting around is an accurate way to describe hunting. If you’ve lived in Alaska long enough, you should know what comes after and before the gunshot.
     Most of you know this September, I shot my first caribou. I have shot at one caribou before in what my dad calls a “bad scenario,” but really, it was my first time actually hitting the target.
    We had traveled down a four-wheeler trail and arrived around late morning. Right away we spotted four big bulls feeding down in a grassy swamp. After a flurry of gun cases and meat bags, we headed toward the animals.
    On the way over, I started developing second thoughts, as all hunters do. It wasn’t that I was afraid of killing the caribou, I just was concerned that I would wound the animal and it would run into the woods and we might not find it. My dad looked behind him because my steps became slower and I was lagging behind. I felt my face turning white, and my hands becoming clammy. After what seemed like a few seconds, we slowed and crouched down. All I could hear was the pounding of my nervous heart,  the crunch of our footsteps, and the nonstop creaking of my dad’s pack. We stalked within a 100 yards of the animals and dad set up the tripod and I flicked the safety lever off.
    Keeping my fingers away from the trigger, I waited quietly for a good view of a shoulder blade. Taking deep breaths, I tried to get ahold of my scattered emotions. Hunting wasn’t that stressful: it’s supposed to be jovial; it’s natural to be nervous, right? The caribou went from here to there snagging bits and pieces of tundra shrub. One caribou roamed from the group, and I kept the cross hairs on it for a shot behind the shoulder.
     Congenial is not a realistic way to describe what I was feeling; in fact it was the total opposite. The caribou never really gave me a clear target, so I relaxed. By now the caribou had set off to search for some better tundra, so we looked elsewhere for game. We spotted another group and decided to find out if there were any bulls.
    Staying low, we snuck up and climbed a small hill and set up the tripod to look for the bulls in the group. There were two, and they were about the same size. I carefully stood up and the caribou sensed danger. One by one they passed through a small clearing and disappeared. One bull went past, but there was a cow behind it, and I didn’t want to take a chance. The other bull started through; dad made a sound and the caribou stopped and looked at us. I knew this was my chance. Nonchalantly, I took aim. The shot echoed through my ears and the bull took off.
    Dad didn’t know if I hit it right, so he loaded his gun. We strained our eyes to see the group. Then the caribou I had shot appeared in a small clearing. My dad shot at it and it laid down. A few seconds later it stood up again rather slothfully and dad shot it yet again. It fell down and didn’t move for a few minutes. I stayed on the hill and dad snuck up on it ready to make the final shot. The shot echoed through my ears.
    The caribou itself was rather plump, and small. When dad shot it in the head, he dislodged an antler, so the rack was rather grotesque. The eyes, because it was wounded, were gawky in appearance. There’s is only one way to describe them: bulging. The eyes were sticking out of its head like one of those plastic toys that when you squeeze it the eyes pop out.
    After the pictures it was time to get to work. I will spare you the details, but for people who understand, one of the shots burst the stomach, so it smelled like roses the entire time (grimace.) After doing the dirty work, we hiked back to the four wheeler. Dad must have packed it about one and half miles. It took two trips because dad didn’t bring an extra pack,( not that I was strong enough to carry or even lift one). It took a couple hours, but we made it.

            This hunt taught me that hunting is exciting, but you should relax all the same. It’s the same with life. You need to take the time to enjoy it, but you also need to move on or you will miss out on the treasures life has to offer.

    Since I didn’t introduce myself in my previous post, I suppose I should do that now. Hopefully, you will learn more about me as you read my blogs.
    My name is Amanda Friendshuh, and I am starting my final grade before high school. I love to write, and I am especially fond of poetry and descriptive writing. Collecting descriptive words has always been a hobby of mine. What can I say; I just love good adjectives.
    Writing has always been an important part of my life. If I am depressed or annoyed, I calm myself using the rhythm of the pencil on paper. It serves as a safe alternative to breaking a door down. Much to my annoyance, midnight seems to be the time when my imagination comes alive. Then I quickly write down my ideas and hopefully go back to sleep.
    I have two beautiful sisters, a wonderful mom, and a great, awesome, and amazing dad. Let’s say I am extremely blessed. (Having my own room is just a part of that blessing.) My mom and sister, Nikki, are always the ones that put up with my continual, “Is it good enough?” or “Do you think it will be okay?” My dad is the one who says, “It’s fine” without even looking at my work. Kelsie, my little free spirited sister, is the member of my family that takes the time to write me a special note on my door.
    In the summer I travel down to Soldotna, Alaska, to visit my two sets of grandparents. There I enjoy swimming, fishing, eating fish, sewing, and gardening. This last summer I caught my first red salmon. Every time my dad and I went fishing, he always caught seven, which is all you can catch in one day. As for me, my record was six.
    No matter where I end up, Kenny Lake will always be my home.  Plus, it’s fun to watch peoples’ expression when you describe where you are from. Even when you say 80 miles north of Valdez, puzzlement shows on their faces. I love where I live, and nothing will ever change that.
    Throughout the year, my writing will be posted on this website, and I look forward to receiving your feedback on my work. Though I’ll admit I am not the greatest writer, I hope to progress in my skills as an author during this class.

    You may notice that I don’t introduce myself in this blog. I believe that the best way to get to know a person is through their writing. I will tell you more about myself later, but this is for now. I am going to tell you about one of many family experiences.
    When my family goes hiking you never know what to expect. As my dad said these very words, I knew this was the beginning to an ultimate adventure.
     At the start of the Skyline trail (a few miles out of Soldotna) we hiked up a path leading into fairyland. The trail was laced with all kinds of wildflowers, and the mountain vegetation spread over us like a big green canopy.
     It was a sunny day, the forest kept us cool until we reached the tree line, and it was then we started to perspire. As we sat down to rest, my family could look up the mountain into a whole different world. We humans get so caught up in our man-made world that we forget the natural world.
    The mountain’s unique beauty made me ponder if a painter went crazy with color and texture. The beauty was exquisite, the jagged peaks and the remaining snow patches gave the mountainside character. I don’t think dad felt the same way. I ought to remind you that his nicknames for his kids include “chicken lips,” “turkey toes,” and the occasional “knuckle head.” (Only his students are special enough to be called bonehead!)Not exactly a deep thinker.
    We reached the rocky trail leading to the mountain peak, and the wind started to pick up. My hair whipped in front of my face as I tried to find the right footing so I wouldn’t slide back down the mountain. At these times I regret having long hair. I spied a fellow hiker kneeling a little ways down the slope.  I wished I could sit with him and soak in the sound of howling wind and the rocks crunching under hikers’ feet.
    My family drew nearer and nearer to the summit, and then we encountered a small patch of snow. My sister Nikki and I dove face-first into the ice crystals and our dog Halo wasn’t far behind. She leaped into the frosty patch and continued sliding down the slope. I almost expected her to be waiting at the bottom of the mountain when we tried to find her.
     As we proceeded up the mountain it got colder and even windier than before. Finally we reached the peak, and we stepped the last weary step. You’d expect us to be without energy, but it was just the opposite.  With Kelsie leaping around like Heidi in the Alps, Nikki and I running from one rock to another, and Halo racing back and forth, we could barely sit still for the family picture. The excitement was hardly containable.
    As they say, happy times never last and unfortunately this exciting time followed the tradition. It was time to descend Skyline. On the way we had to be careful about our footing, or else we would be going down faster than we expected! On the way down I picked one of every wildflower I stumbled upon. Before long I had both hands full.
    Since I wanted to leave you with something sweet, I saved the grove of spruce trees clinging to the slope for last. These were not ordinary spruce trees; they were bent and twisted from the wind on the mountainside. They reminded me of people who believed they could conquer the wind, but they turned out to be fools. The blowing force of wind is indestructible, yet it can create something wonderful like the trees. My sisters and I climbed them and ran our fingers over the bark and tried to memorize the shape so we could remember it forever.
    We reached the family car, which was hot from the sun, and climbed in. I watched my wildflowers start to wilt and whither under the sweltering heat. I kept in mind that they would not last for eternity, but I knew this special memory would.