phoenix goes eagle

I was six when gyros came into my life. I’m not talking about spinny things.  I’m talking about munchy things.  Stick it in your mouth and taste-buds twirl.  My family introduced the Greek Gyros sandwich to Alaska.  I’m proud of this, this funky side note in AK cuisine.  There was a distribution business built that covered the state and even Hawaii, for a time.

The distribution part of the business was sold off years ago – what has remained is the family booth at the Alaska State Fair.  31 years of tzatziki sauce, onions, tomatoes, long days, long nights, laughter, dancing and tears.  It has been one of the most consistent aspects of my life.

As a kid, the Fair is where I learned how to pepper my language with all kinds of cuss words, as well as running around with my brother to explore the gazebo (now torn down), watch the daily puppet show over and over again, be bored, and learn how to work.  The booth was busy from day one, and has been a constant source of amusement to hear the different ways ‘Gyros’ is pronounced.

For the record it goes like this: YEE-dos.  I’ve heard ji-row, jee-row, ghee-ros, heer-ows… sandwich.  After awhile I gave up trying to correct or repeat myself and just call it as it is usually pronounced: gyro (jai-row).  But that doesn’t work because then I run into someone who knows how to pronounce it and I get corrected.  Cest’ la vie.

A little over ten years ago it came time to take over the business from the parentals, and it was then I really came to love my yearly pause in wherever I was to come up and work the fair.  Three weeks of hard work and introspection over a hot grill and a LOT of sour cream.

Almost like a metronome for life, I came to see it as a time not only to work, but to see where I had changed and grown.  It was a yearly rhythm of seeing friends and Alaska, my beloved Alaska.  The mountains out back of the booth, I spent many a spare minute taking them in and how the varying degrees of sunlight changes their texture throughout the day.  I’ve yet to climb Pike’s Peak; its been a decade’s long intention.

The booth was where I first put into practice the concepts of enlightened self-interest, a business philosophy I was introduced to at some point in high school.  I saw it work to a great effect.  The fair was also one of the places where I felt safe enough to let down my ‘gay guard.’  I was surrounded by people who did not mock me for my gay inflections or sensibilities – it was pleasantly a non-issue.  I was a good boss and ran a successful business.  Boons on all levels.

But things change.  Of course they do.  And my metronome wasn’t mine alone.  Its a business, and as more family came to take a growing interest, the rhythm changed, and it was no longer the place it once was for me.  I was sad, angry, etc. for quite awhile about this.

The seasons change, and if I am to hold true to my original estimation, then… how have I changed this year?  After a decade’s worth of attempting to reach a compromise between conflicting business philosophies, I’m letting go.  The metronome is sounding its last for me.

It takes effort for large personalities in a small space over long days to serve one another.  I’ve come away many a year with quite the opposite of the self-satisfaction I once knew.  No longer a safe place, the ‘gay guard’ exhausting itself by too long an active duty, under fluorescent lights that hurt my eyes (not an undocumented phenomenon), it comes to a point where total acceptance of the situation is necessary.  And with surrender to what is, a new type of decision making starts to rise.

I’m one to change and refine things. I’m also one for deep talks and honest bits.  I’m an artist, and sometimes, as many artists know, its a different way of living.  I had an amazing interview with Ms. Julie Decker today, and I am so grateful to hear that mine isn’t the only case of (at times) misunderstood living.  I don’t feel bad about this anymore.

It’s challenging at times, yeah, but so what! I accept it.  And it changes and it isn’t what I think it is going to be.  Sometimes the challenges are interior and get WAY too manifested in the exterior.  Or the other way around.  And then boons slip in, in such unexpected fashions.  I’m left humbled and grateful for the lessons along the way, and strong enough to wish those who decide to stay all the best.  No hard feelings.

The metronome will tok for someone else, you know.