I pedal into the graveyard and am surprised to happen on Wasilla's former mayor - this individual who put us into our house on Sarah's Way
Tuesday, October 20, 2009 at 4:06AM ;)
I have pedaled by the Wasilla graveyard on Aspen many times, but, until today, never into it. Today I did and was surprised to come upon this grave first thing: Charles Howard Bumpus - Charlie Bumpus. Mayor Charlie Bumpus. Were it not for this man, perhaps my family and I would never have lived in Wasilla at all.
Lisa would probably not even exist, because where else but inside this house could circumstance have brought Margie and I together at just the right moment to conceive her?
We met Charlie Bumpus a little more than a year after we had rolled into Alaska, homeless and jobless. By then, I had a marginal income, plus the first Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend and the state had a low-interest, guaranteed, loan program to help first time home buyers on the struggling side to purchase a house. Charlie Bumpus had come up with a brilliant scheme on how to bring these home buyers to him.
Even with the state program, a house like the one we are in would have been out of reach, but Bumpus figured out that if he created a subdivision, then took orders for five houses at a time, he could build at package prices, lower the cost and make them affordable to more people and thus make a good profit himself.
So we drove out from Anchorage and met him in a downtown Wasilla devoid of fast food joints and chain stores. He was tall, slender and freckled; he had blond, curly, hair and was highly animated and energized. Soon, as we followed, both desperate and fearful to keep up, he sped at an insane speed down Lucille Street, which in those days was a narrow, windy, gravel, road, kicking up gravel, dust, and stones. Each time he rounded a curve, it looked like we was about to slide off the road. I could feel the tires slip a bit as we rounded those same curves behind him. It was easy to imagine that we might soon fly right off the road.
Finally, we reached Ravenview Subdivision, # 1, where we transferred to his car. Charlie drove us through the gravel streets past empty lots of birch, spruce and cottonwood that stood over a spongy, mossy forest floor and then gave us an inside tour of the few model homes he had already built.
"I'm not doing this for the money," he insisted. "I'm doing it so that one day I can drive through here with my daughter, show her a thriving neighborhood and tell her, 'your dad built this!'"
We chose a lot on Sarah's Way, picked the cheapest of the three-bedroom home models, looked at linoleum samples, cabinets, sinks, refrigerators, showers, toilets, ovens, woodstoves and such and chose what we wanted.
We then signed the papers, knowing full well that we had just wasted his time and ours. We knew the state was not going to approve us for the program.
But the state did. And here we are.
Bumpus quickly rose to become one of Wasilla's most important residents, famous not only for his business skills, but his talent as a saxophone player. He ran in races and participated in other sports.
He was fit and prosperous. Life looked good for him. In 1985, he was elected Mayor of the City of Wasilla. Less than a year later, at the age of 45, Mayor Bumpus suffered a sudden heart attack and died - right on the 15th birthday of his daughter, Sarah.
I wonder how many times he had driven her down the street that he named for her? Our street? Did he swell with fatherly pride as he drove her past our house? Did she feel daughterly adoration toward him?
And what would he have thought of Sarah Palin, who, in 1996, became the third mayor to succeed him? If he had finished his term and had then been relected, the whole political landscape of Wasilla would have played out differently than it did. Would Sarah Palin have even become Mayor? Would anybody, outside of a few locals, even know her name?
So today I pedaled into the Wasilla graveyard and came immediately upon his headstone. It was a modest headstone, for one of such wealth and prestige.
;)
A little further, I happened upon a cherub.
;)
Just beyond that, I found a married couple waiting for three of their four children to join them. The other already has.
;)
What did this mean? Was it a child's grave? Or an adult, who was loved by some who imagined this to be the way he had lived as a child? Or was he, perhaps, a fan of Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer?
I saw some graves that were definitely children and, just as I did these, I photographed them as I pedaled past. But I didn't post the pictures.
;)
Out in the trees, I saw the Virgin Mary looking at me.
;)
A cherub, bathing nude in the sun.
;)
In the upper graveyard, the new part, devoid of trees, I again saw Mary.
;)
They seemed to rise from the ground as ghosts, and I could not even read their names. I wondered about their origins and how it was that they came to live in Wasilla, and if some of the many people of the old Russian faith that I see around here - the women in their long skirts and head scarfs, the men in their plain clothes - descend directly from them?
;)
Since this was a bicycle shoot, I had resolved not to get off my bike or the trail, but I compromised, because I wanted to see this couple closer up, as individuals. I laid my bike down at the edge of the grass and walked over.
This is he.
;)
And this is she.
Can you see how much work I have ahead of me, if I am to meet my goal of finding the soul of Wasilla?
So far, I have done very little. Given Margie and my needs to survive, coupled with all the work I still want to do outside of Wasilla, it seems so impossible, but I believe that I am going to do it.
That means that one day fairly soon, before I join them, I must get to know these two, at least a little bit.
;)
I then picked up my bike and pedaled home.
Reader Comments (6)
I love piecing together stories from headstones. I love old cemeteries.
My favorite part of the day is reading your posts. Always interesting.
I can ask Ivan Rakhmistryuk who works here at Everts in the warehouse about this lady if you would like. I would assume they are family since he lives in Wasilla and has the same last name.
Charlie
Me, too, Debby. Yet, I don't ever want to lie beneath one.
Thank you, ManxMamma. I suppose I cannot help but disappoint every now and then, but it is good to know that you look forward to this.
Charlie, I will appreciate that. Give Piizzle's a scritch.
Oh, I think you're okay Bill. Seems like to me that you're on top of a good story, not under one.
Bill, Was turned on to your blog because of the story of Gilly and have been enjoying it. Of course the bicycle title caught me and I can imagine how many great "shots" you come across on two wheels. Your field trip through the Wasilla graveyard reminds me of skiing through my back yard in Barrow and the old Barrow graveyard and how many friends I have resting there.