A "Real" Alaskan

I've often wondered when I would be able to call myself a "real Alaskan."

I thought perhaps it was when I endured temperatures less than 50 degrees below zero.

Then I thought it was when I had survived a whole winter here.

I wondered if it was when my kids declared that 70 degrees was "steamin' hot."

Or perhaps it was when they went swimming in the lake and it was less than 70 degrees outside.

But my latest take is it happened when I saw a black bear lumber into a stream, catch a salmon, and wander off into the reeds to eat it.

Yeah, it's pretty cool to be an Alaskan.