Well… It’s my last week in the office, again. We’ll see if this time it sticks. Things are still a
bit up in the air with my next semester, but I hope I’ll be able to make it back up to the Hill. In the meantime, I’ve been looking forward to the winter break. I’ve been feeling a building need to get back home. To get back to the mountains, to the snow. To my family. As I usually feel in D.C. towards the middle of December, I miss the winter. I miss the cold. Actual cold, not just the windy “cold” that gets everybody bundled up here. As things are now, I feel like I can’t even listen to Christmas music. There isn’t an ounce of snow on the ground, nor a bit of frost on the sickly, ochre and umber colored grass. The land feels more barren and dead than the dynamism of Alaska’s winter snowscape. In the midst of the pandemic, the differences between here and home feel greater than ever. I feel a deep need to go back. That being said, I leave the Senate this time with my heart already home. I take with me many great experiences, and a lot of reading material. You see, after a call I had with Kate earlier this week, she sent me reams of documents focused solely on the Chehalis v. Mnuchin case I wrote about a while back. Motions from the parties involved in the case, the decision from the district court, and more were all sent to me in consecutive emails at the very end of my last day. Knowing that printing the documents at my university or at home would cost me a fair amount of money, I printed every document I could before I left. Last I saw, I scheduled over 600 pages to be printed in the last half hour before I headed out. I still have to three hole punch the papers together and aggregate them all into a binder, but I should have a fair amount of reading material for my winter break. We’ll see if I actually get to reading it by the time break is over, but I’m grateful to have more information about a case that has captivated me so much over this past semester. Even if I don’t return to the Senate next semester, I hope I can still keep up with important events like this which may impact our Alaska Native communities. For now though? I’ve got a plane to catch, and plenty of reading to do.
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This week, I spent a couple of hours talking with a class from West Anchorage High School,
my alma mater. Invited back by my senior literature teacher, Mrs. Tinker, I talked with a group of high school teachers about my path from high school through college. In so doing, I flashed back to how I was finishing high school. The worries and stressors I had, as well as the focuses and ideals I held. Charting the path back from now to then, I was amazed at how much I’ve grown. Not only physically (growing from 6’1” to 6’3”), but also characteristically. I’m less shy now than I was then, more responsible than I was, and more sure of myself and my capabilities than I ever was in high school. I also feel more sure of what I want to do and where I want to be than I ever was in high school. Back then, I thought I wanted to do something government or policy related, maybe internationally, working with anybody from Congress to the World Bank. At the time, I was eager to get out of Alaska and not too sure if I would come back. Now, working in the Senate and in my third (and hopefully final) year of college at American University, I have a much smaller, well defined focus. I want to go into federal Indian law. I want to be a lawyer and potentially a litigator. I hope to get involved with the creation and implementation of federal Indian policy, and want to get to know the levers of power within politics. Bridging my mixed identity as both an Alaska Native and American Indian man, I want to reform policies concerning all Indigenous communities – particularly as it pertains to increased tribal sovereignty concerning issues of public safety. I solidly feel I know what I want to do, and the way to get to a place where I can actually do it. It’s a remarkable feeling. Talking with the class, I hoped to provide them with some of the building blocks I’ve used to get where I am now. I passed along advice from my dad concerning problems that may come up in life and how to get through them. Advice I gained from my physics class about how to move forward when you don’t know what to do. And how a universal truth to life is that everyone, even the most seemingly implacable person, doesn’t have it all figured out. How we’re all working and learning together as a collective. Fielding their questions, I reminded them to have faith in themselves, and confidence in their abilities. I encouraged them to take chances, and trust their instincts. And most of all, I encouraged them to ask every question they had, no matter how simple it may seem. At the end of it all, I affirmed my belief in their potential, thinking back to my own. Knowing that I never believed I would make it this far, but believed I had the skills to. Thankful as always that along the way I had people who supported me, teachers who believed in me, and opportunities offered to me. Unlike my time in quarantine, this week away from the office I was able to get out and
about. In fact, today my girlfriend and I went out together to Ocean City, Maryland and Assateague Island. A day trip we’ve been hoping to do for a while now, we shopped at a small antique shop, explored Assateague Island’s sand dunes, and even saw a few of the island’s wild horses! It was a much needed getaway considering the past month. Just getting back from the Eastern Shore, I think my favorite parts of the trip came from the beach. It was a cool day, lightly cloudy with some slight winds, the smallest of whitecaps on the waves of the Atlantic. Walking in the surf, I thought of my dad, and his love for the water. How, whenever we’re together near the ocean in the Lower 48, he typically takes his socks off and stuffs them in his Sambas, holding them and wading into the water. The last couple of times we’ve been together and done that – last fall when we drove to Kitty Hawk together and another time at Huntington Beach in California – it’s just been him and me. I can’t go to a beach and not wade in now when we’re apart, thinking of him. Walking along the dunes with my girlfriend, I also loved the sunset. The sky turned from a hazy mix of clouds and grey sky into this wonderful kaleidoscope of blues, purples, pinks, oranges, and reds, broken only by the contrails of airplanes thousands of feet up. As the sunset to the West, the moon rose in the East over the sea, casting a bright pure white sheen over the darkening sea. And in the middle of it all, at least from my perspective, was my girlfriend. The way the wind played through her hair. The way her eyes looked reflecting the light. Her smile and laugh. She was angelic. I’m very grateful I could spend that time with her. As we drove back, listening to NPR and enjoying one another’s company, I couldn’t help but to think of all of the things I’m thankful for in this world – my family, my girlfriend, my friends, my health, my financial security… I could go on and on. I am incredibly fortunate to have all that I have and I thank God, my parents, and my family for everything I am and everything I have. Writing now, I’m so very grateful for my life and everything I have, from the ability to go on day trips like the one my girlfriend and I went on today to my life itself. I look forward to more opportunities to get out and see the world. And hope that I keep a sense of humility as I do so. This world is the host of so much beauty and wonder, I can’t wait to see more of it. With my dad, with my girlfriend, with my family and friends. I hope post-pandemic, we can all go out again with greater regularity. But for now, I’ll enjoy the opportunities of the moment, and the memories of yesteryear. I’m into the second week of quarantine, and I have never needed a haircut more badly. I
feel scruffy and scraggly with it all grown out. I’m beginning to get restless and impatient at being restricted to the 900 or so square feet of the apartment, and look forward to going on a walk as soon as I possibly can. My girlfriend and I both received our first negative tests last week, and are waiting to hear back on our second tests now. It’s been amazing to spend so much time with her. As much as I feel frustrated now at needing a haircut and being restricted to living in a small apartment, I wouldn’t rather quarantine with anybody else. She’s the only person I think I could spend so much time in such a confined space with without becoming ornery and disheartened. That being said, I really hope we’re able to get our second negative tests back soon so I can head back to work. I never thought I’d miss the commute so badly, not to mention my coworkers and the work itself. For all the glamor of working from home, getting out and changing environments has a lot going for it. I miss working in a suit or khakis in an office. Working from home and only from home is not the most productive thing for me. I’m itching to leave the apartment and get out into the real world again. Staying cooped up is not for me. Back to Work! It happened! My girlfriend and I received our second negative tests and are out of quarantine! Today, I was able to come back to the office for the first time in farrrrrrrrr too long, and boy have I missed it. Coming back to my desk earlier was like returning to my room in my parents’ house. Catching up with everyone was amazing for my mental health, and for the first time in a while I felt like I was getting back on track. I think it’s the only time I wished the work week was longer, especially since we were told we’d have all of next week off to celebrate Thanksgiving. I couldn’t get enough of dressing up for work. Putting back on my favorite khakis and sweater, I felt like I was coming into the office for the first time. Though I’m usually excited to head in to work, today was a new high. I can’t wait for the week after Thanksgiving. It’s been too long. This week has been full of good news and bad news. The good news came Saturday, when it
was announced that former Vice President Joe Biden will be the next President of the United States. I breathed a sigh of relief at the news, knowing that the election is finally over. D.C. breathed with me, as the entire city erupted in cheers. From the Mall to Maryland, cars were honking their horns, people were yelling and waving American flags. Exhilaration and exuberance abounded. Driving through the city, it was as if the United States had just won some great war against tyranny. The streets were flooded by people in cars, honking and blasting music. It was the greatest singular celebration I have ever seen. The next day brought bad news for me. Two of my close friends reported positive coronavirus cases, and were in quarantine together with high fevers and bad coughs. Having celebrated together on election night, I immediately began to quarantine as well. I texted my supervisor with the bad news, and per CDC guidelines am intent on waiting things out as I hope for two negative tests over the course of two weeks. I feel fine now, and hope that doesn’t change, but we’ll see. In the past I’ve always gotten really sick at least once in the fall semester. Freshman year I caught the flu and had the worst fever and chills I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t even fully remember the week I was sick, only that I got up one day and felt like I had been hit with a stack of bricks. Everything is sort of hazy from there on through. Now, in quarantine with my girlfriend, I’m trying to look at the bright side. I’m not able to work on anything for the office, but I’ve been able to spend some time going over work for school that I haven’t had the time to work on. The opportunity has also allowed me to put in some more work towards extracurricular organizations I’m involved in. And, admittedly, it has been nice to just take some time and relax. As I mentioned last week, I don’t think I’ve been able to truly relax for some time, with the anxiety and stress wrought by the pandemic and the election. Taking some time to play a computer game or watch a tv show and decompress may just be a blessing in disguise. In any case, I’m sad I’m missing out on work. I had hoped to be there after the election results were revealed, and I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to see my coworkers’ reactions to Senator Sullivan’s reelection victory. I’m disappointed I won’t be able to have lunch with my fellow interns, or help a coworker move. But, working off of what I can control, I am dedicated to keeping others safe, even if it means I have to quarantine for a while. So for this week and next, I’ll be working in an apartment, not the Hart building. I’ve kept the television on all-day, though I don’t dare look at it. I feel like a sports fan, not
wanting to jinx results I have no control over but immense interest in. I’ve kept to busy work today, working in the office. It’s so weird to think that by tomorrow morning, this place could look entirely different. Working at the center of American governance on the day of the election, it feels like going back to school the day before graduation. Everything feels decided already, but the nervousness is still there. It’s a weird limbo. I’m looking forward to going back to my apartment later tonight and spending some time with my friends reviewing the results together. Today doesn’t feel like a good time to wear a suit or khakis, but to be with friends and family. The Days After: It’s still too close to call. I don’t think North Carolina is going for Biden, but it seems like Michigan, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Nevada, and Georgia just might by the slimmest of margins. Having things this close… it feels almost like sleep paralysis. Cognition of reality is there, but action over it is impossible for some reason. Throughout D.C., places are still boarded up. People exchange worried, tentative glances in grocery stores and on buses. It’s like everyone’s waiting for something to give. The tension has eased a bit, but nobody has been able to decompress. Every time I check NPR, or get a buzz on my phone from Twitter, I keep hoping to see some clarity in the election results, but states are taking their time. Nevada in particular is really dragging its feet. Alaska too is taking a while. With so many mail in ballots to count, results are farrrr behind showing clear winners anywhere, but I think certain races are able to be called now. If the early returns indicate anything, it seems that I was right earlier. I think the Senator is coming back to D.C. I can’t wait to be in the office when those results are announced. In the meantime, I’ll go back through the readings I mentioned a few weeks ago. I’ve got them all in a couple of binders now, and am trying to read as much as I can when work is low like it is now. Hopefully it’ll be a good distraction from the static results we’ve got. The presidential election is next week, and here in the office, people are restless. Like
everyone else in America, we’re waiting for the results, and unsure of the future. It’s the only thing we talk about. At once, people seem confident and tentative at what next Tuesday night’s results will show. Personally, like it or not, I think President Trump will be reelected, though I think there is a good chance the Senate will flip blue. With Senator Linsey Graham’s contradictory stances on the election of Supreme Court justices in an election year (“use this against me…”), Senator Joni Ernst’s inability to recall the price of soybeans in Iowa, Cal Cunningham’s momentum in North Carolina, and Scott Kelly’s momentum in Arizona, I think there are plenty of areas for Democrats to win out in the upper chamber. Meanwhile, though the pandemic has altered things, I don’t know if I think America is willing to leave behind Trump. His active campaigning through his presidency has kept his base in line, while increased partisanship has cemented many Republican and single-issue conservative voters to Trump by association. In any case, not a lot of work is getting done as we wait. I think that no matter the results, folks are going to be happy that the election is over. There is a palpable uncertainty here that we’re all fearful to address. Around town, storefronts from Farragut Square to McLean Gardens are boarding up their windows and doors. There’s fears that the pandemic won’t dissuade people from rioting if the results don’t break one way or another. Back at my apartment, my roommate is stocking up on non-perishables, just in case it’s not safe to go out for a while. In my classes, professors have been encouraging us to prepare for civil unrest around the country as we grapple with the results of the election. Tensions are high, and fear seeps in whenever one begins to think too hard on what the results could be. I’d like to get to work as usual, and I know everyone else feels the same way, but for now it just feels like we’re captives. Captives waiting for our future to be determined by an unknown mass of people. It’s a scary reality to be living through. For all of the chronic stress I and everyone else have been feeling due to the pandemic, this added acute stress and anxiety isn’t great for one’s mental health. I just look forward to being able to get back out and live life normally again. With no election stress, no pandemic stress, just health, safety, security, and freedom. The thought of that future is helping me pull through this week as we wait. I hope it comes sooner rather than later. For now, I wait and pray. Similar to last week, work hasn’t been too stressful this week. The main task I’ve been
working with is retroactively attaching contacts to events for the Senator’s virtual rural tour this past summer. In all honesty, it is pretty basic clerical work. But it’s given me a good opportunity to reflect, and like all weeks, to learn. Reviewing everyone the Senator met with, I saw so many Alaska Native leaders I’ve never heard of. From various Alaska Native regional corporations to advocacy groups to rural governments, there was such a great Alaska Native presence. Reading some of their biographies, I was amazed to read about the experiences each brought with them. I sometimes forget that in Alaska, our relatively recent colonial history and westernization means that many of the progenitors of our major statewide organizations and institutions are still present with us. Being reminded by my task this week was a great lesson in understanding both the richness of our Alaska Native community as well as the institutional knowledge we carry. Reviewing all of the experiences and stories each member holds, I hopefully pictured myself in their position one day. Having the ear of a senator, representing their communities humbly and faithfully. Ideally passing along whatever knowledge I can to young folks just like me now. It’s an inspiring thought. I think of something my mom has drilled into me about Indigenous cultures generally, and our insistence upon sharing, learning, and growing – all with humility. Throughout her parenthood of my sister and I, she taught us that our Elders ought to be at once venerated and cared for, and also listened to and learned from. With that thought in mind I went back through to the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Project Jukebox, listening to some of the stories Elders like Clarence Alexander and Lorraine Adams had recorded. It was nice to work listening to them. It made me miss home and my family, but it was a good reminder of where I come from and what I hope to do, as well as what has been made possible by those who came before me. In the end, the clerical work I started off with became much more meaningful than simply digitally tying names to an event. And I’m all the more grateful for it. It’s been a quiet week in the office. The Senate has been out of session and will continue to
be for the rest of the month through the election, so my fellow interns and I make up the majority of the office staff actually working in the office. Out of session, we’re back to dressing casually, and I have to say I’m getting more and more used to wearing khakis, dress shirts, and sweaters. Being out of session naturally slows down the workload for all of us, which can be nice. I’ve heard the interns up front complaining about having nothing to do, but in the back I like the autonomy. I’ve taken to reading over federal reports on “Indian Affairs”. Beyond reviewing the Chehalis decision, I’ve been able to read about Carcieri v. Salazar (2009) and its impacts on federally recognized tribes. I even was able to get whole reports commissioned by Congress printed for my reading. In short, I was in wonk heaven. With my pen in hand, legal pad beside me, and new binder full of federal Indian policy analysis in front of me, I set myself out to learn. I didn’t have any particular purpose besides learning. As I’ve mentioned before, as a student and a young professional, I know I have a lot to learn if I hope to be the best advocate and representative I can be for Alaska Native and American Indian communities. That said, I relished the opportunity to learn more. If there’s one thing I’ve loved about my time with Sen. Sullivan’s office, it’s that I’ve been able to blend my personal interests with professional activities. With each thing I learn through my research, I’m better prepared to reply to constituent needs. All the while, I get to build out skills that may come in handy later. It’s a symbiotic relationship I am trying to take full advantage of, and is another thing I am really grateful for. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll be able to do something that is the subject of reports like these. This week I turned in the first draft of the Senator’s Alaska Federation of Natives (AFN)
speech. It marked the end of a couple weeks of work on a project I’ve spent more time, energy, and thought on than near any other single thing I’ve worked on in my entire life. Simultaneously, it is probably the single greatest thing I have produced (to-date) that has a possibility of making a mark in the world. Most of my work has been resigned to a classroom, a club, or a back room, away from public consumption. With this speech though… everything is different. Public officials’ AFN speeches are legendary, and basically serve as a “State of the Union” speech for Alaska Natives. They work to set the agenda for Alaska Native policy at the state and federal level, and outline officials’ long-term views for Alaska Natives and their respective governments. I still remember how influential Governor Walker’s 2018 AFN speech was. The tears shed in the audience and honor song shared afterwards. It was huge. For this year’s speech, I wanted the Senator’s message to reflect both the everlasting strength and fortitude of the communities he would be speaking to as well as the spirit he has for working with them. To match the moment we all are in while maintaining a certitude for the direction we must head moving forward. I felt daunted by the task. To start, I looked back over his past speeches to AFN. Reviewing the speeches as written and also as presented, I hoped to get an insight into the way the Senator talked. The ways he communicates and also how he sees the world. The conceptions he carries concerning Alaska Natives and the ways in which he frames the concerns and capabilities of Alaska Native communities. Reviewing four years of speeches, I took over two dozen pages of notes. I identified themes and noted repeated phrases and worked as best I could to solidify his cadence, humor, and performative style. After that, I went back and reviewed all of the work we’ve done as an office over the past year concerning Alaska Native policy. With the help of a couple staff members, I worked on identifying our recent accomplishments while tying in some issues the Senator has consistently touched upon in each of his past speeches. Creating a framework of issue areas and policy approaches, I finally decided upon a couple different calls to action. In the end, the first draft of the speech is around 2,500 words. And there is plenty more room to expand. But, with the speech just a week or so away, it’s now out of my hands. I don’t know what will happen to it. I sure hope that some of what I wrote makes it in to the final draft. I’m nervous to see what gets cut and what is kept by the time the Senator delivers his speech on the 16 th . In any case, I look forward to seeing what comes of it. If it has any impact on anybody. Or, like most speeches, if it is just lost to the ether. |
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Photo used under Creative Commons from Mike Juvrud