My wife and I are officially members of a unique group. We even have a certificate to prove it. The certificate states that “we crossed THE ARCTIC CIRCLE and survived an adventurous journey through the wilderness of Alaska…” It was signed on June 14, 2006 by Kati, our guide. To further prove it, I even have a photo of our first step on that circle as we drove the Dalton Highway from Fairbanks to Coldspot. After stepping over a dotted line on the red carpet, Kati unfolded us and gave us all a piece of chocolate cake to celebrate our achievement. We laughed about it, swatted at a few hundred mosquitoes, and continued on our journey. The ritual that accompanied this little adventure made it one of those moments that will remain in our memory. It served to remind me that rituals of all kinds are vital to the lives of our families.
To illustrate, here’s what Todd Shelton wrote about the importance of ritual upon joining his Kappa Alpha college fraternity.
“Any ritual, if practiced indifferently, can become rigmarole, but something much deeper than repetitive performances makes a ritual both vital and enduring. A good ritual is a distillation of the wisdom of ages past. The attraction of any ritual is its universal communication. It penetrates the mind and heart of the young initiate. It is about the fundamental nature of personal growth that all men must deal with. Society is constantly changing, but human beings remain basically the same. Herein lies the value of ritualism; today’s initiate can relate to initiates of other generations because both have reacted to an identical personal experience. A new initiate may feel vaguely akin to the glory of the past, but to him the ritual is as fresh as dawn. It’s the ritual that turns men into frat brothers even if they’ve never met. It binds each initiate by a private but significant bond with all other members of the brotherhood.” So far Shelton.
I’m not sure I’m linked by my Arctic Circle ritual to those hundreds of other brave and sometimes foolish and resilient souls who spilled out onto the tundra in search of gold in years past. However, I have a new feeling about the enormous challenges that nature presented to them. The Arctic is no place for ladybugs. Less than a foot below the tundra is permafrost of solid ice. Winter temperatures drop well below 60 degrees Fahrenheit, not counting wind chill. On top of that, there is only darkness for almost a month. In our day, such extremes present real challenges to those seeking the black gold called oil.
In contrast to those strong souls of the gold rush days, as well as today’s oil drillers, our crossing was literally a “no brainer.” We traveled north on the gravel road in a ten-passenger van and flew back to Fairbanks in a nine-passenger plane. However, we now have a kinship with all of them and our little ritual confirmed it.
That is the value of rituals. They connect us with each other and with those who have gone before us. Sylvia and I got home a few days before our National Father’s Day. I grant you that Father’s Day is not as important as Mother’s Day, but my daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren visited me. They invited Sylvia and me to dinner and gave me a little present. My son and his family were vacationing on an African safari, but he even found a way to call his dad from the other side of the world. It all meant a lot. It was part of the ritual. We all strengthened our bond with each other. This was much more than the third Sunday in June. It was Father’s Day and because of the day’s rituals I am the remembered dad. I will not forget
