Copyright 2007 Lydia HinshawNORTH POLE, AK -- Some towns struggle to find an identity. That isn't a problem here.
Some of the streetlights are shaped like candy canes. Christmas banners adorn conventional untility poles. The visitors center has a lighted tree and a gift shop full of Christmas-related items.
Out front, a stuffed Santa doll in a dogsled holds a sign giving the Christmas countdown -- 175 days as of Tuesday.
I suppose the place is lighted up for Christmas at night, during the times of year when there is enough darkness to make it worthwhile.
Prince Charming and I had a day off together for the first time in five weeks Tuesday and we used it to make a day trip to Fairbanks. Once we were there, we decided to continue to North Pole, which is 13 miles farther. The place has grown since the last time I passed through in 1999, but it hasn't lost its obsession.
We wished the lady in the visitors center a very merry and fled back to Fairbanks for a barbecue fix, a car wash, some shopping, and a stroll down the nature trail at Creamers Migratory Waterfowl Refuge.
There weren't many birds on hand, except for some sandhill cranes snoozing through an 80-degree afternoon.
In the refuge visitors center, a lively lady surely into her ninth decade told us she once lived in Daytona Beach, way back in 1943.
"Then you must have been in the Army,'' I guessed, educatedly.
She told us stories about driving, and marching, on the beach. And about the time a young lady giving commands during a beach drill got flustered and failed to order the turn necessary to keep the company from marching into the surf. There were lots of wet feet that day.
One last chore didn't get accomplished in Fairbanks -- a haircut for me. The going rate for haircuts here is beyond what I'm willing to pay.
This is territory where the Prince fears to carry scissors, so I'm settling for a self-inflicted trim of the parts that stick out. My work uniform includes a baseball cap that hides a multitude of sins.
And no, there will be no pictures.
Some of the streetlights are shaped like candy canes. Christmas banners adorn conventional untility poles. The visitors center has a lighted tree and a gift shop full of Christmas-related items.
Out front, a stuffed Santa doll in a dogsled holds a sign giving the Christmas countdown -- 175 days as of Tuesday.
I suppose the place is lighted up for Christmas at night, during the times of year when there is enough darkness to make it worthwhile.
Prince Charming and I had a day off together for the first time in five weeks Tuesday and we used it to make a day trip to Fairbanks. Once we were there, we decided to continue to North Pole, which is 13 miles farther. The place has grown since the last time I passed through in 1999, but it hasn't lost its obsession.
We wished the lady in the visitors center a very merry and fled back to Fairbanks for a barbecue fix, a car wash, some shopping, and a stroll down the nature trail at Creamers Migratory Waterfowl Refuge.
There weren't many birds on hand, except for some sandhill cranes snoozing through an 80-degree afternoon.
In the refuge visitors center, a lively lady surely into her ninth decade told us she once lived in Daytona Beach, way back in 1943.
"Then you must have been in the Army,'' I guessed, educatedly.
She told us stories about driving, and marching, on the beach. And about the time a young lady giving commands during a beach drill got flustered and failed to order the turn necessary to keep the company from marching into the surf. There were lots of wet feet that day.
One last chore didn't get accomplished in Fairbanks -- a haircut for me. The going rate for haircuts here is beyond what I'm willing to pay.
This is territory where the Prince fears to carry scissors, so I'm settling for a self-inflicted trim of the parts that stick out. My work uniform includes a baseball cap that hides a multitude of sins.
And no, there will be no pictures.
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