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RAISED IN RUINS
A Memoir
TARA NEILSON
Text and images © 2020 by Tara Neilson
Cover photograph by Romi Neilson; photograph on page 263 courtesy of Kizamu Tsutakawa; photograph on page 269 courtesy of Ove Korsnes.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Neilson, Tara, author.
Title: Raised in ruins: a memoir / Tara Neilson.
Description: Berkeley, CA: West Margin Press, [2020] | Summary: “A personal memoir of Tara Neilson’s unconventional childhood growing up in the burnt remains of an old cannery in remote Southeast Alaska”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019047777 (print) | LCCN 2019047778 (ebook) | ISBN 9781513262635 (paperback) | ISBN 9781513262864 (hardback) | ISBN 9781513262871 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Neilson, Tara—Childhood and youth. | Frontier and pioneer life—Alaska, Southeast. | Union Bay Cannery. | Houseboats—Alaska, Southeast. | Alaska, Southeast—Biography.
Classification: LCC F910.7.N45 A3 2020 (print) | LCC F910.7.N45 (ebook) | DDC 979/3.8—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019047777
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019047778
Published by Alaska Northwest Books®
an imprint of
WEST MARGIN PRESS
Publishing Director: Jennifer Newens
Marketing Manager: Angela Zbornik
Editor: Olivia Ngai
Design & Production: Rachel Lopez Metzger
For the Neilsons of Cannery Creek:
Gary, Romi, Jamie, Tara, Megan, Robin, and Chris.
And the cannery workers who went before us.
CONTENTS
THREE UNION BAY CANNERY WORKERS
INTRODUCTION
ONE DAY when it was just my mom and us kids alone in the New House we’d built in the wilderness with our own labor, with lumber our dad milled himself, a huge brown bear paced back and forth in front of the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows in our game room where we spent most of our time.
Back and forth, back and forth, it paced agitatedly, disturbed by our presence next to the salmon-choked creek. Our mom was terrified of guns, but she got down the .22-250, which she probably couldn’t have shot if she tried, and told us kids to go upstairs. We ignored her.
We figured if the bear broke in we’d all scatter and the bear might get one or two of us, but he wouldn’t get us all. Our tension escalated as the huge mound of fur, teeth, and claws continued its angry pacing. Finally he rounded the house, going around the kitchen to the front where our temporary door was made of thin pieces of wood and plastic. If it just sneezed, the bear could break through it.
We followed it from room to room, our hearts beating uncomfortably hard. Finally, we saw it head down to the creek. With the gun in hand, Mom stepped outside to make sure it kept going. She told us to stay inside, but, again, we ignored her.
Suddenly my youngest brother, Chris, took off after the bear.
“What are you doing? Get back here!” Mom whisper-yelled, afraid of alerting the bear. She gripped the gun helplessly. “Christopher Michael! Get back here, right now!”
Chris kept running, gaining on the bear.
The rest of kids stared after him, shocked. When no one moved, I sprinted after him. In front of us the huge bear lumbered toward the shining creek filled with salmon fins and sea gulls. This is crazy, this is crazy, I thought as I ran toward the bear.
I collared Chris, and dragged him back. He fought me every inch of the way. I cast glances over my shoulder, sure the bear would come after us and shred us to pieces in front of our family. The bear turned at the noise and raised itself onto its hind legs, sniffing the air and peering at us.
Fortunately, we all escaped a mauling that day.
• • •
There are many, many more stories like this that I couldn’t include in this memoir due to lack of space. I had to leave out almost all of our adventures we had with the kids in the village of Meyers Chuck, and at the all-grades