I never thought I’d leave. Then came grandchildren. In Portland.
Even so, I was adamant. Juneau was home, the place I would be buried. I had no interest in living in a city that requires me to drive to get almost anywhere and endure summer temperatures in the 90’s.
Juneau was the place I felt most like myself. My two children grew up here and in important ways, so did I. Far away from family on the East Coast, it was this community that filled the cavern I hadn’t known was there. Early Thanksgivings were comprised of friends who also hailed from “outside,” we shared recipes and stories, created new traditions. Back then, friendships mushroomed organically from hellos over coffee at downtown Heritage or casual chats while browsing at Big City Books.
After I’d lived here nearly a decade, my father came to visit. Delighted by the salmon run, thrilled at catching his first halibut and gazing at Gastineau channel and the surrounding mountains, my dad — not given to hyperbole — kept his mouth in a perpetual wow. After our walk into town when multiple people greeted me by name, he took my hand, now I understand why you live here and stopped asking, when are you coming home?
It isn’t always easy to live here. Sideways rain and Taku Winds, along with many days of oppressively low cloud cover can smother the joy of even the most ardent optimist. We’re far away from family and friends who live outside. Housing is tight. Things are expensive.
There’s just something about it. Trying to explain why I love Juneau to someone from the Lower 48 is impossible. The way the land still grabs me by the throat, my awestruck gaze the first time I witnessed undulating waves of the aurora, the reassurance that cleanses when I wander through the Tongass.
But as I gaze out at Mount Jumbo each morning over coffee, I’m mindful of perhaps the truer reasons I stayed. Where else can I go to a drive-in that offers two live bands, themed food and drink and a dirty dancing contest before the eponymous movie? We’re a small town with well-earned boasting rights to incredible musicians and artists, an accessible local government and a world-class trail system. I’ll miss coffee meetups at Coppa, pop-up marimba concerts at the Whale Park, hiking Cowee Creek Meadows. I’ll miss warm bread from Al Bocca Al Lupo. I’ll miss seeing young women who were girl scouts in a troop I led over 30 years ago who are now successful professionals and wonderful moms. Folk Fest, Gallery Walk, First Fridays. Grocery shopping in Portland will feel a bit lonely without stopping every few minutes to chat with someone I know.
My etched memory of downtown includes local shops and restaurants as far down as South Franklin Street, Baranof’s Mother’s Day brunches, Hearthside Books on the corner by the clock, Lyle’s Hardware, movies at the 20th Century Twin. But change is inevitable.
And difficult. Long time businesses disappeared. Fires happened, properties were bought and sold. The internet changed the nature of shopping. Tourism grew, then exploded.
Entrepreneurs have revitalized some of downtown’s aging buildings, inspiring new energy and interest from both locals and visitors (think Devil’s Club, Crystal Saloon, Deckhand Dave’s). Sealaska Heritage Institute reclaimed the corners of Front and the former Seward Street, now named Heritage Square and installed beautiful totem poles along the waterfront.
There are also, however an increasing number of buildings unoccupied or poorly maintained. Even at the height of Juneau’s busiest season, empty storefronts abound. Tourists either don’t seem to notice such things, or because many are here only a few hours, aren’t negatively impacted. Locals do notice.
I won’t be here to see how Juneau handles this next challenging phase of its history. But I believe that Juneau’s ability to retain its downtown character and attract people to live, work and play here will require the ongoing attention of everyone proud to call this place home.
Lyrics to Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi keep ringing in my ears: Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got till it’s gone. Perhaps you remember the rest.
• Patty Ware has lived in Juneau for 35 years and served on the CBJ’s Blueprint Downtown Committee. She and her husband board the Alaska ferry Aug. 27 for their next life chapter in Portland.
