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The Monday Morning Memo

I met Joy at a rest stop on my trek up to where the polar bears swim. The official name of the Haul Road is Dalton Highway, a too-narrow gravel road with deep potholes, arctic weather, and a caravan of trucks taking supplies to the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay. 

It was summer. We were about to drive over the 4,738 foot Atigun Pass. At the rest stop was a giant red truck. I was gazing at it when a petite young woman strolled over and began climbing up to the door, I asked if I could take a picture of her in front of it. “I’m a painter and would like to do a painting.” She chuckled. Click. 

I was pleased with my painting so I tracked her down. Not many women drive the Haul Road, so Joy was easy to find. I invited her to my gallery opening and she and I became friends. We met at a coffee shop several times. Driving a truck is not all fun and adventure. The danger is real. Joy Wiebe was hauling a 59-foot tanker with 9700 gallons of diesel fuel across the tundra when her truck flipped off the embankment. She left behind a broken-hearted husband and three adorable children. I remember her smile and her chuckle. I think she would want us to remember her chuckle.

Amy Butcher wrote a book about Joy that was released a few days ago. Mothertrucker: Finding Joy on the Loneliest Road in America. The movie will be released soon.

– Raven, at Alaskan Raven Studio

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Random Quote:

“Sofia rose from the table to give her father a kiss on the cheek. Then returning to her chair, she leaned back, squinted, and said: “Famous threesomes.”

“Ha-ha!” exclaimed the count.

Thus, as the candles were consumed by their flames and the bottle of Margaux was drunk to its lees, reference was made to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; Purgatory, Heaven, and Hell; the three rings of Moscow; the three Magi; the three Fates; the Three Musketeers; the gray ladies from Macbeth; the riddle of the Sphinx; the heads of Cerberus; the Pythagorean theorem; forks, spoons, and knives; reading, writing, and arithmetic; faith, hope, and love (with the greatest of these being love).

“Past, present, future.”
“Beginning, middle, end.”
“Morning, noon, and night.”
“The sun, the moon, the stars.”

And with this particular category, perhaps the game could have gone on all night long, but for the fact that the Count tipped over his own king with a bow of the head when Sofia said:

“Andrey, Emile, and Alexander.”

- Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow, p.421 (the lines in bold were bolded by me – Indy Beagle)

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