Living in a city of wildly diverse individuals, where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are above average, I'm continually amazed at how thunderstruck my fellow New York denizens react upon learning of my Alaskan roots. I would be able to nod knowingly to a Martian. While I'm intensely proud of my home state heritage, the passing of each year pushes me further and further from Alaska, whether its losing my eligibility for my cut of the Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend (It was $1654 this year!) or not having enjoyed reindeer sausage in three years. Or is it four now? I don't know. I don't remember.
The only constant that proved and verified that I was still Alaskan all these years since I left was my driver's license (No, you jackasses--it's not to certify driving sled dogs or bears). I discovered earlier this week to my utter sadness that it is scheduled to expire in January 2008. I won't be going home this year for the holidays, which means I will be turning in my expiring Alaskan license for a boring, common New York State one. I'm pretty disconsolate about it, but maybe as a consolation I can get Mrod or McLovin as my name on it. But, I'm going to miss my lopsidedly laminated license that looked like a very bad fake ID.
[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=XZcG0NBMcDA]