Sounding Board is one of my favorite programs at KNOM. I never thought I’d say that. But over the last year, the show that was once the stressful bane of my existence has become an opportunity for connection that I look forward to every time.

Sounding Board is an hour-long live call-in show the volunteers host each Thursday, with a new topic, and a new set of co-hosts, each week. We try to choose a topic that is “on the hearts and minds of our listeners,” whether a hot news item, a fun conversation sparker, or an important issue with a positive, gentle and respectful spin.

Behind the scenes, hosting duties rotate through volunteers and Laureli, the News Director. There’s always two people hosting and a volunteer answering phones. The host of the week chooses the topic, and after getting approval from Laureli, interviews a local expert to provide context at the beginning of the show–and fill up dead air time.

The topics range from political to sentimental, cultural to environmental, serious to fluff. We’ve hosted Sounding Boards on everything from heroin, to Arctic Shipping Policy, to celebrating native drum and dance. Some of the shows get pretty heavy, addressing serious issues with a hopeful angle. We’ve talked about grief, overcoming addiction, healthy parenting and preventing child abuse.

At first, hosting the show was incredibly stressful. My head was buzzing with what-ifs. What if no one called in? What if my co-host and I had to talk, live, on-air for an hour straight? Would I sound coherent? What if I lost my train of thought? Could I lead Sounding Board and operate the actual sound board that controls the mics, the pre-recorded clips from experts, and the phones? What if a caller swore? Would I remember to push the delete button? Would I remember where the delete button was??

Well, none of that happened. Once I stopped being afraid of embarrassing myself or messing up and just did the best that I could do, my anxiety subsided. I learned how to listen. I learned, fundamentally, the show is not about me.

For listeners, Sounding Board is a chance to hear from their neighbors, relatives, and community–to exchange stories, ideas, opinions. For the KNOM volunteers, Sounding Board is a chance to connect with the listener.

Radio tends to be a one way form of communication. As deejays, reporters, or news anchors, we try to entertain, inspire, inform and engage them, but we rarely hear back from the people we’re speaking to.

During those magical hours from 10 to 11 every Thursday, we’ve had listeners, the people we think about all the time, open up their hearts and tell incredible stories of pain and strength. It’s been inspiring to hear their courage, to listen to them talk about suffering and how they overcame it.

What I love about Sounding Board is it cuts down to the beautiful core of KNOM’s mission.We’re here to serve the listener. The call-in show gets their voices on air, so their neighbors and friends can hear what they have to say–and, more importantly, recognize that their neighbors and friends are worth listening to.

We don’t expect to be saving the world. Maybe we’ve shared a hotline number that someone in crisis needs, or helped people empathize, or just shared a cool story that sparks conversations around the water cooler. Maybe when the conversation has flowed, and the phones are lighting up with calls, we’ve helped connect the listeners to each other.

I know Sounding Board has helped me feel connected. Whenever I finish hosting the show, I feel refreshed, like my work, our work, is contributing to something larger than myself. Something that starts to feel like a community.

KNOM staff and volunteers in a recent photo.

It’s not just me, long standing Nomites agree as well: it is too cold, snowy, and miserable in Nome for this to be spring, even by Alaskan standards. Well, duh. That’s because this is not a matter of temperamental Alaskan weather or global warming.

This is obviously a full blown Dementor attack.

Think about it. It’s cold and overcast. We feel like happiness is being sucked right of us and we can’t even see the true culprit responsible for this. As many of us know, the only way to fight Dementors is to conjure a Patronus Charm, and the only way to conjure a patronus is think of your happiest memory ever. That’s a lot of pressure to put on people when they are already absolutely miserable, but personally, I refuse to go down without a fight. So let’s start small, one small happy memory at a time.

Daynee’s Not-So-Secret Dementor Fighting Techniques:

LAUGHTER

Babies with mustaches. My best friend once said that there was nothing funnier than a baby with a mustache and she is right. The next best thing is a baby with a beard.

CATS. This is coming from a dog person: watch a cat do something crazy on the Internet. Don’t discriminate between videos and pictures and don’t be judgmental of poor grammar. There is a cat out there for everyone. My favorite is Henri, the existential cat:

RANDOM DISTRACTIONS

Dancing yellow chick. This is basically a solar-powered mechanical yellow chick sitting by the window at the volunteer house. All it does is move back and forth. Bored? Depressed? Stare at this chick for a few minutes. I guarantee your life perspective will change.

Wearing fun hats. There is a reason why British soldiers wore pith helmets. I’ll give you a hint: for the same reason why I own one of these babies.

Comfort food (aka Chocolate). This is a temporary solution and not a healthy long-term thing, but even Remus Lupin gave Harry Potter some chocolate after his first Dementor attack. Candy heals.

Movement. Hiking, running, dancing, walking. Do something. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people ______.

CREATIVE ENDEVOURS

Music. I am not a performer. In fact, I think the only reason I ever started playing music was for therapeutic purposes. Nothing makes me feel better in such short bursts of time than playing or listening to music. At the very least it distracts me from whatever crazy thing Mother Nature is doing outside my door.

Writing. Like music but doesn’t require you to know how to play an instrument. It’s also cheap and accessible, so there’s no reason not to try it.

Toast Robot. I cannot explain what this creature is. It is neither toast nor robot. It’s more like a joyous piece of popcorn. I drew it when I first arrived in Nome and it has since grown to be a sort of meme synonymous with whatever nonsensical thing I do or say.

PEOPLE

Old friends. They know your ins and outs, what makes you smile, what makes you tick. Don’t let go of old connections because of distance. They know what dementors are and how to fight them.

3am ice cream run. We all need crazy people to do crazy things with.

New friends. You may not have a history with these people but don’t rule them out because of it. They may understand you better than you think.

Fighting Dementors= Hard.

I’m not even going to pretend that coming up with this list didn’t take over an hour, nor am I going to pretend that talking about Dementors isn’t super nerdy. But writing this list cheered me up a bit. Maybe the whole think-of-something-happy thing isn’t your thing, and that’s cool. All I hope is that wherever you are, if you are under attack, you have something or someone to help you through it. In the very least I hope I can provide you with as many cat videos as it takes, however many times it takes.

It’s really nice to catch up with friends while on walkabout – even if conversations are limited, they produce a sense of shared experience and accomplishment. It’s also a pleasant surprise when hearing your name called out – not only are you recognized, you’re sought after!

That leads me to another kind of being social – using facebook and twitter. I think in our usage, we’re trying for that same experience (even with this blog!). A sense of, “Hey – I know those people!” It’s hard to remember to take pictures or videos of events that pop up – but we’re getting better at it. For instance, here’s a video of Josh, Eva, and Margaret walking around in Mayvember:

There’ll be new videos every once in a while – we’re mostly radio people, but the videos are a lot like running into someone on the street – a brief connection, letting each other know how things are going. It’s always great to hear from our friends (ie, you!) – so if you have comments on things we’re up to, let us know through any of the social media – or send an e-mail or snailmail (PO Box 988, Nome AK 99762) – or leave a comment on the blog!

After spending almost two years in service, I’ve come to realize something quite real…

My life is completely dependent upon the generosity of others.

Graduation Day – May 2009

Growing up, I remember my immediate needs were met by my parents, then eventually by friends and of course by myself as an adult; however, now counting four years that have passed since college graduation, I am relying on others to support me.

This almost seems selfish in a way. I’m college-educated, intelligent, competent, and healthy. These are traits that I could utilize to support myself.

Have I taken a step back by expecting others to care for me?

Well, no. I find humility in needing help from others. I’ll admit I’m proud. We all are. I’m taking the opportunity to let go of what I thought I needed: my car, my cell phone, material things. In letting go and trusting others, I have found simplicity, peace, freedom.

I never understood the story of the rich man who leaves everything behind to follow Jesus. How could he do that? Surely he would need something – food, perhaps, or an extra piece of clothing? No, Jesus gives him everything he needs – more than the man may have even realized. God provided for this man. He provides for me, also, through the generosity of strangers. Strangers – people I don’t even know. I may never meet these people in my lifetime, but they’ve shared their hard-earned money, time, love, advice to help me, an unknown, to have an experience of a lifetime.

“I want to move to Alaska,” I said. “I want to volunteer at a radio station.”

Photo by Joshua Cunningham

Someone or many someones paid for my trip from Philadelphia. I moved here with suitcases full of clothing I received from donations strangers had dropped off at my last year of service. (How funny to think their old pair of jeans traveled from Cleveland, Ohio all the way to Nome. It really is a tale of traveling pants.) I moved into a house that was built by hands of people I’ll never know, to sleep in a bed provided by someone I’ll never meet.

Our house and garage

From the money in my wallet to the shoes on my feet, each item has come from another. Another’s love, kindness, sacrifice.

I suppose that’s why I’m in Alaska. I’m here to meet strangers and hear their stories. I’m here to hopefully plant seeds and maybe make a small impact in someone’s life. Someone whose face I’ll never see through the microphone. Someone I’ll never meet in a community I’ll never travel to. The cycle continues.

I am inspired, humbled by those who share so much with me. I feel called to pass on this full and open giving, paying it forward, if you will. It connects us. So, in the end, are we truly strangers ?

When my friend Jason traveled from Knoxville to Nome the other week, he seemed to bring a few suitcases full of that warm Southeastern sunshine with him. The evening he arrived was the first of about a week of snow melting, come-out-and-play kind of weather. And what does one do after spending an Alaskan winter indoors? Well, you make the most of the new playground that has been defrosted.

Maybe it was simply the excitement of having a good friend from home by my side for a few days. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing all the flora and fauna that I haven’t even thought about since winter began. Maybe it was the realization that my time in Nome is beginning to come to a close. Whatever the contributing factors may have been, I think I lived more of Alaska in those couple of days than I have in the entirety of my stay here.

I sometimes get nervous about playing the part of tour guide. After months of living the day-to-day in Nome, I have forgotten how exciting this place is from an outside perspective. As much as I don’t like to admit it, I take so much of the novelty and beauty of Nome for granted by just looking at it from my bedroom window. As silly as it may sound, I get so comfortable with my work and home routine that I forget we are living in the aptly named Last Frontier.

Luckily my friend Jason can be described as “adventure ready.” In his short stay, we went snowshoeing, explored an abandoned dredge, tracked down the largest herd of muskox I had ever seen, all while introducing him to the ins and outs of Nome daily life as well as that of the KNOM community house. In some respects, it is the latter that I enjoy showing off the most. I won’t paint a picture that our humble home is always brimming with energy, harmony, and laughter – but when our paths do lead towards those things, it is something else to experience. Dance parties, family dinners, movies, and just time spent standing in the kitchen talking – we have gotten comments from all of our visitors about the quality of our family time and our ability to easily open our hearts to hospitality.

*All photos are by my wonderfully talented photographer friend, Jason R. Scott.

Knoxville, in a sense, is my spiritual home; where I will return when my time as a KNOM Volunteer is over. Having someone from there, who was part of my life before I set off on this adventure, and who simultaneously fills the role of being an individual who will be part of my life when all is said and done here, put me in the kind of mindset I really needed. It reminded me a lot of why I wanted this to be my next stepping stone in life; why I wanted so badly to be a part of KNOM’s mission. As I look back on my time here, I am, of course, so grateful for the time I have gotten to spend with my fellow Nomeites, but when it came to opening my eyes to view the wonders that reside around me, I really have to thank all of those who have come to visit us during our time in Nome and all of you who are visiting us through the content of this blog.

Thank you for sharing this adventure with us. You help make it even more worthwhile.

Nome’s mountains sure are beautiful. Photo by Josh Cunningham.

Last week, Josh and I went on a bike ride after work. It was a clear, sunny night in the tundra north of Nome. It was 9 pm, but by the sun, it looked like mid afternoon. We rode a path tucked next to one of the main roads going out of town. We call this path the greenway, though, right now, there’s nothing green about it.

It was 20 degrees and boy, we were cold. A kind snowplow had come through and cleared the bike path, so there were stacks of snow built up nine or ten feet high on either side of us. It was amazing. I felt like we were riding through a snow tunnel.

At one point the path rose above the snow, or the snow melted down, and we rode by a woman feeding her sled dogs on her dog lot. (In case you’re curious, dog lots are where mushers keep their sled dogs outdoors year-round, with wooden boxes to sit on, hay to sleep on, and chains to keep them from running away. If this seems cruel to you, consider sled dogs descended from huskies, and the Arctic winter is their natural home. As sled dogs, they get to live outdoors in their preferred habitat without any fear of survival. They get a constant supply of food, secure territory, and plenty of exercise.) Josh and I watched the woman grab hunks of frozen salmon from a bucket. Nine or so huskies stood at attention. We waved and she waved back.

Josh turned to me on his bike and smiled, joking, “Yep, time to break out the barbeque. Grab a couple of cold ones. Have the kids run through the sprinklers.”

We laughed and talked about how amazing it is to live in a place like Nome. And how much we’ll miss this when we move back to the Lower 48 next year–the closeness to nature, the quiet, and most of all, the sense of community. Nome is a place where two goofy-looking strangers on bikes wave to a long-time Alaskan and the person waves back.

Josh and I kept riding, giddily cold, taking in the beautiful clear blue sky, the quiet, the snowy tundra unfolding, empty, on either side as far as the eye could see, and the still frozen sea. A big smile growed across my face. I felt so grateful. I’ll never experience a May 1st bike ride, a year, or a community, quite like this.

Lucus was away this week and I hosted the morning show alone. In his absence, I learned three very important things about myself.

1. Waking up at 5 am is the same for me as waking up at 7 am, which is the same as waking up at 10am, which is the same as noon. I am going to be grumpy and non-responsive for the first hour I am awake, so might as well rise early.
2. If I have no one to talk to I am going to talk to myself.
3. When I talk to myself, I argue. A lot.

Daynee, that’s not how you change a tire.

la la la… I’m not listening!

First thing’s first: yes. This happened live. I pre-recorded myself saying a few things and triggered them to respond to myself on the air. But mostly it was live Daynee on Daynee action. I could have pre-recorded the entire segments, but let’s be honest. When you turn on the radio, it’s kind of nice to have an actual living, breathing, human being (or two) coming out of the speakers keeping you company as you move about through the hustle and bustle of your morning routine. In the very least, knowing there’s a real person at the other end of those speakers makes you feel a little less alone.

Silence can be scary. On our own time it’s fine (and perhaps encouraged) to seek solitude and listen to ourselves, but when you’re on the air that’s not really an option. We don’t want dead air.

Sometimes it takes the absence of something or someone to understand yourself a little better. Your contradictions, your quirks, your strengths, your faults, the little things that others notice about you but are somehow out of your peripheral vision. When you have no one but yourself to project these bit of you, you may find yourself learning something new.

Communicating with others is often about compromise; what is appropriate to say to whom and when. However, when you are communicating with yourself, these rules don’t apply the same way because it’s all happening in your head.

What do you talk to yourself about when others are listening?

Thankfully, most people don’t ever have to ask themselves this question.

You can’t dance by yourself without Billy Idol. You just can’t.

Where is Daynee number two now? Put her on the phone!

I am out of coffee so I will ask my second self to brew more for me.

What day is it?

My kitchen stove is not telling me the right time.

My other self doesn’t want to talk to me right now. Hi.

I’m dancing right now!

I’d like to request a song for Saturday. We Are the World? The new version?

Was I alone after all? I guess not. Whenever people call to tell me about their days or ask me the most random questions, it reminds me just how many people I am sharing my day with. Daynee and Daynee are alone in the studio, but hanging out with western Alaska for four hours. We keep each other company.

Why so lonely, Communicator 2012? You have four friends on the way!

Now Lucus is back and things are returning to normal. At least, as normal as they can get. Two hours after his arrival, we learned we’ve won four Communicator awards for KNOM. Lucus got one for production work of one of his spots, I got another for writing & creative concept of my adventure safety series, and KNOM got two others, for our Christmas play, and for on-air talent of our Breakfast Wednesday segments. If only the award givers knew what communicating on the air meant for me this week, if only they knew.

Spring fever is in the air. After only four hours of daylight in the fall, much darkness, sadness, adjustment, the sun is here to stay.

Everyone is coming out of the woodwork. As roads continue to clear, children are seen riding their bikes, playing in the diminishing piles of snow, jumping in puddles. I find myself just wanting to be outside as much as possible soaking up the sun, breathing fresh air, stepping on soft ground.

Josh and I took a drive out of town recently  - the road is now open.

It was surreal driving through tundra and mountains. I had to remind myself that this is where I live. I’m in Alaska, and I’m only a few minutes out of town.

This past Saturday, a group of us took a hike out to one of the gold dredges out on the tundra. It has been abandoned since probably the 1980s. I felt like we were exploring another world.

As I look forward to the summertime with lush, green tundra and rolling ocean waves, I will remember this as a time of transition – shaking off my time in hibernation and reflection to a period of new growth.

Walking on Blue Ice

My parents don’t travel very much so when they told me just a few short months ago that they were coming to visit me in Nome, I was pretty blown away.  In my past three years of service my mom and dad have only had a couple of opportunities to peek inside my day to day work life.  While I know that they are proud of what I am doing with my life right now, it means a lot for them to be able to see the ins and outs of service that I’m dedicating myself to during this time.

After you’ve lived in Nome for a couple of months and the initial novelty begins to sit on the back burner, you find yourself a bit nervous about keeping busy.  When it comes time to have visitors you might worry about how to keep them occupied in this small town when many of the roads are still dwelling under feet of snow, the ocean is less of a summertime beach experience and more so a lunar landscape, and hikes are limited only to those with snowshoes willing to brave the chill awaiting them at the apex.  All of my roommates have heard me express my angst at keeping my folks busy and entertained during their visit and each of them assured me that they would have plenty of fodder in which to make an adventure out of.

They were so right.

Dad out dog mushing!

In just a week’s time my parents have become versed in dog mushing, walks on the frozen ocean, negative temperatures (not a commonality with our home of North Carolina), native clothing, on-air radio time, and many other Western Alaskan gifts.  In all honesty, I don’t think I ever realized how adventurous good ol’ Ma and Pa were until I found myself waiting for them to return home from hours of cross-tundra mushing.  It’s funny how the roles reversed in my life for a few days.  Instead of my parents worrying about me during my Alaskan adventure, here I was wondering when my parents would return to me from their very own.

After having spent so much time away from home post-college, it was so wonderful to have home come and visit me for a bit.  The older I get the more I realize that the same fear I had when Mom and Dad would drop me off at school for me to embark on a solo journey is still ever present.  I am grateful to have very supportive parents who, even if they don’t entirely understand why I feel I need to fly across the world to be on the radio, give me the courage to embark on this adventure just as they did in my days of grade school.

Should you ever have the opportunity to visit Nome, don’t worry about planning around events and weather.  I say you might as well just dive right in.  Though we do live in a small community, there is always something to do, interesting people to meet, and places to explore.

Sorry for the late blog! It’s been such a whirl-wind this past week that I thought today was Monday. But Tuesday it is, and time to reflect on what has been an amazing few days at KNOM.

My twin sister is visiting from New York City! It has been very exciting to have my sister in Nome. She is here for a few more days, but already, her visit has exceeded my wildest expectations. She has been able to do and see so much more than I ever hoped for, thanks to the wonderful generosity of KNOM.

My twin sister and I on the plane to Unalakleet. Photo by Monica Watchman.

We made a last-minute village trip to Unalakleet, a community of 600 on the Bering Sea Coast. I went to cover the Native Youth Olympics, and she got to tag along for free, thanks to our station’s underwriting from the local airline company. She got to see me interviewing athletes, recording sounds in the gym, and experience the strong sense of community. She got to fly in a small airplane over the Alaska wilderness, see where the tree line starts and the ice breaks up.

The Bering Sea from the plane! Photo by Sarah DeLappe.

But the best part has been just hanging out with my sister and the KNOM Volunteers at the KNOM house. I am so happy my twin sister can meet people who have become so important to me and KNOM Volunteers can meet my twin. At first, it was strange, to combine such different worlds and parts of my life. But after it has been heart-warming to see people I care about meet, play board games together and have a good time.

Couch-time! Photo by Margaret DeMaioribus.