by Terry W. Sheely
In the gray half-light and mist that passes for daylight this morning along the docks in Juneau, two guys in orange Grunden bibs are throwing a small mountain of sport-fishing gear, crab pots, coolers, and duffle bags into a cavernous tugboat. Hands reach out of the gloom, grab a load and disappear into the cabin.
I’m drawn to the boat, attracted by the energy and optimism spilling off the dock; fish chatter, quick lampoons of laughable criticism, Christmas-morning-in-August giddiness.
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