Tele Aadsen

writer - fisherman - listener

One year ago today, Hooked went live with this post. Astute read­ers may notice that that first post’s date doesn’t match today’s cel­e­bra­tion. Though I wrote and post­ed “The Launch” on March 10, 2011, I didn’t have the courage to make it pub­lic until 8 days lat­er. Full of trep­i­da­tion, I wasn’t sure what I had to say – or if any­one would care. Arriv­ing late to the blo­gos­phere (about 3 years after my dad prod­ded, “Do you have a blog yet?”), I ago­nized over what kind of first impres­sion Hooked would make.

That first post laid out a pret­ty mod­est mis­sion: “Hooked is intend­ed to share the sto­ry of what it is to be a South­east Alaskan fish­er­man, a troller/longliner who combs the sea to har­vest the high­est-qual­i­ty wild salmon, black cod and halibut.”

Fish­er­man” is both an occu­pa­tion and iden­ti­ty for me, so this was­n’t a bad goal to begin with, but I like to have room to stretch. The next line left the nar­ra­tive door ajar: “Fish­er­men are a diverse bunch, and no one’s per­spec­tive is quite the same. My voice as a tree hug­ging, tofu eat­ing, pub­lic radio lis­ten­ing, pierced/tattooed bleed­ing heart pescatar­i­an fem­i­nist, a lapsed social work­er turned pro­fes­sion­al deck­hand, is – per­haps – a tad unique.”

Just as my per­spec­tive is unique, so is yours. As you intro­duced your­selves in the com­ments, strangers became new friends, and I delight­ed in your diverse voic­es. Encour­ag­ing fam­i­ly mem­bers. Cur­rent and retired fish­er­men. Women from an astound­ing vari­ety of life expe­ri­ences. Whether active­ly work­ing on the water, land-locked and dream­ing of a life adrift, or sea­sick-prone and hap­pi­ly root­ed ashore, you tugged the threads of these posts and found them con­nect­ed to the fab­ric of your own lives.

So this post isn’t about cel­e­brat­ing 12 months of a one-dimen­sion­al online con­struct. This is about rec­og­niz­ing and hon­or­ing com­mu­ni­ty, and that’s all of you who take the time to stop by and say hel­lo. You’ve become par­tic­i­pants in these sto­ries. Your hearts seized as whales rose up beneath the Ner­ka. (Maybe some exple­tives fell from your lips, too, in cho­rus with those falling from mine.) You cel­e­brat­ed Cap’n J’s birth­day, and you imag­ined the taste of tra­di­tion­al Tlin­git foods. When I shared my writer’s pan­ic last fall, you offered sup­port and encour­age­ment. You learned the inter­de­pen­dent rela­tion­ship between salmon, trees, and South­east Alaskans, and you ral­lied as spokes­peo­ple for the Ton­gass Nation­al For­est. You cheered for the 2012 Fish­er Poets, and you griev­ed those lost at sea.

Hooked’s read­ers have been the great­est joy of this expe­ri­ence.  I wish I could offer you a slice of that aquat­ic-themed cake (or pro­vide a gluten-free/­sug­ar-free/ve­g­an alter­na­tive) in thanks. You’ll just have to trust that we enjoyed it with you in mind. Bear, too.

In lieu of cake, I do have a gift for one of you. Two months ago, I print­ed a few copies of Hooked: The Best of 2011 through blurb.com. An 80 page col­lec­tion of my favorite posts, they came out pret­ty nice­ly (only 2 typos dis­cov­ered thus far, and pure­ly my fault.) If you’d like to be entered into a draw­ing to win your own copy, leave a com­ment here before mid­night on Wednes­day, and I’ll put your name in a hat. (No, not a hat, but an Xtra Tuf boot. Thanks for the sug­ges­tion, Cedar — cul­tur­al authen­ti­cy mat­ters!)  Cap’n J will do the hon­ors on the morn­ing of the 22nd, and I’ll stick the winner’s copy in the mail as one of my final tasks before we head north.

Are you a long-time Hooked read­er, or a new vis­i­tor? As we approach the upcom­ing fish­ing sea­son, are there par­tic­u­lar sto­ries or issues you’d like to hear about? What have you liked in your time with Hooked, and what could we do dif­fer­ent­ly over our sec­ond year?