Yesterday morning I received a sad phone call from my mother. As I poured my first cup of coffee, she gently broke the news that our favorite restaurant, the historic Copper Center Lodge, had burned to the ground just hours before. As soon as she confirmed to me that there was no one inside and that my friend's family (the lodge's owner's) were okay, we began to discuss the finer points of the beautiful Alaskan landmark that no longer was.
When I hung up the phone, my heart was heavy and I cried for the better part of an hour. I was a bit surprised at my strong reaction to the news and I began to wonder why or how I could become so attached to a place. How can we fall so in love with a building or a piece of land, that it's memory or it's mere absence can make us nostalgic, homesick, and even make us weep when it seems like we will never see that place again?
But as I recall the history behind that building, the time spent there with loved ones, I am reminded that a place can possess more than just the physical materials that we often tend to hold so dear. It wasn't the tables where we sat, the beautiful artwork on the walls, or the artifacts on display that I was crying over. Nor was it the hotel rooms or rustic Alaskan decor. It wasn't even their amazing food I was crying over. (Although my heart did sink a little when I thought about the delicious sourdough starter that they've used for over one hundred years to make the best pancakes in the state.)
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My Grandpa, Chief Harry Johns |
The original lodge was built in 1896 for the gold miners passing through that needed a warm overnight stay and a hot meal. Years later, my grandfather, the late Chief Harry Johns, lost his mother to the 1918 flu. He was only 9 years old. Shortly after, Mrs. Barnes of Copper Center Lodge took him under her wing and hired him to do odd jobs. I believe he recalled that time as an enriching learning experience and thought of Mrs. Barnes as a mother figure.
My great-grandfather, Estaco Ewan (top-middle) |
Then the original structure was lost in a fire and rebuilt in 1928. My great-grandfather (my late grandmother, Ruth Johns, father), Estaco Ewan, carved the diamond willow banister that decorated the lodge's stairs. It was beautiful and full of thick, knotty diamonds and remained apart of the stairwell until yesterday. In 1948, the Huddleston family took over the lodge and hosted many guests and many family gatherings. My own family celebrated my Aunt Patsy's wedding there and, throughout the years, Copper Center Lodge became the place to eat, to visit, and to celebrate. And that is exactly how I spent my time there.
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Diamond willow banister |
Unbeknownst to us, two of our friends were lurking outside, tying soda cans to our car and painting, "Just Married" on it's back window. Dave and I said a teary goodbye to everyone as we departed for our new life in Anchorage. We drove away in our decorated car, honked our horn, and left our family, friends, and the Copper Center Lodge in our rearview. What a beautiful, exciting day. I'll never forget it.
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Our wedding day celebration at CCL, August 21, 2000 |
When Dave was working on the North Slope and I was living at the cabin, I could always count on my Mom to join me for a meal at the lodge when I was craving some good food and my "Momma time." We spent so many breakfasts and dinners there, I can't even count. Sometimes, I would wake up on a cold morning at the cabin after letting the fire go out. I would reluctantly get out of bed and shiver and shuffle about as I tried to find food and make coffee. Then my stomach would growl, I'd think of sourdough pancakes, and before I knew it, I'd be dialing my Mom.
The last time I went to Copper Center Lodge was a couple months ago. There was still snow on the ground and the cold morning beckoned for something heavy and homemade. My Mom and I split an order of eggs and bacon, and an order of their biscuits and gravy. Oh man, the indulgence, the decadence of their food! So good for the tummy! Even better for the soul. Aftan came to our table to say hello and scooped up my son in her arms to get her "baby-fix." She carried him about the lodge, showing him off to her mom and other customers, and gave me a bit of a break so that I could enjoy my meal without interruption. My Mom and I left there with full stomachs and happy hearts. It was the same as so many other times at the lodge. It was perfect. It was just as it should be.
So, when my Mom called me yesterday, I was saddened by the news and I couldn't help but wish that I had gone there on my most recent visit to Glennallen and had just one last meal; one last hello to the "regulars", and one last look at those old log walls, perhaps even my photo taken by the diamond willow banister that my great-grandfather carved. But I didn't. Like every other day, we just never imagine that these things will disappear.
I spoke to my husband late last night and cried yet again when I told him the news. He was understanding and, in his warm way, he wanted to brighten my spirits. So he looked up the event on ADN and read the article out-loud to me. It spoke of the lodge's history and how it was called the "jewel of the roadhouses". It spoke of the people it kept fed and warm and how the lodge has meant so much to the community for over a century. As he continued to read, my heavy heart began to lift. Particularly when he got to the following excerpt:
A sourdough starter used to make locally-beloved pancakes was destroyed, but neighbors had some to spare. "The pancakes will be coming back," Huddleston said....The couple plans to rebuild the lodge. "The building is gone but the history is still there," he said. (ADN, May 20th 2012)
I was surprised, yet delighted to hear that they have plans to rebuild. Of course, nothing will be exactly as it was, but Huddleston is right. The history, the spirit of the place will still be there. And my roots will be too. The Copper River Valley is as much apart of me as my limbs are. I am grown from it's soil. So was the lodge. And the spirit of a place can live on this earth, long after it's structure is gone.
So glad to see that you wrote about the Lodge! Made me tear up a little thinking back on all the good memories! I as well was happy to hear that the Huddlestons plans to rebuild! Are memories will always be there, now we'll just have to make some new ones with the new lodge. Love you Jo!!
ReplyDeleteThank Mandy! Yes, I'm looking forward to many more meals and memories at the new lodge! Love you too!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for this Jo. I called my parents as soon as I left your house and had them look it up. My mom read it to my dad and I. I had to pull over because of the tears. It touched our hearts when we needed it. Again, thank you- Aftan
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you like it and shared it with your parents Aftan! And so glad you guys are rebuilding. Take care! and hope to visit you guys soon!
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