The Village Watchman
By Terry Tempest Williams Terry Tempest Williams (1955- ), a fifth-generation Mormon, grew up within sight of Great Salt Lake. A former naturalist-in-residence at the Utah Museum of National History and Visiting Professor of English at the University of Utah, Williams has written and edited a number of books including the recent An Unspoken Hunger: Stories from the Field (1994); Desert Quartet: An Erotic Landscape (1995); and The New Genesis: Mormons Writing on the Environment (1998). In 1997, she was awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship for nonfiction. Newsweek identified her as a person likely to have “a considerable impact on the political, economic, and environmental issues facing the western states in this decade.” “The Village Watchman” first appeared in Between Friends (1994), a collection of essays; it was reprinted in her collection of essays titled An Unspoken Hunger (1994). Stories carved in cedar rise from the deep woods of Sitka. These totem poles are foreign to me, this vertical lineage of clans: Eagle, Raven, Wolf, and Salmon. The Tlingit craftsmen create a genealogy of the earth, a reminder of mentors, a reminder that we come into this world in need of proper instruction. I sit on the soft floor of this Alaskan forest and feel the presence of Other. The totem before me is called “Wolf Pole” by locals. The Village Watchmen sits on top of Wolf’s head with his knees drawn to his chest, his hands holding them tight against his body. He wears a red and black stripped hat. His eyes are direct, deep set, painted blue. The expression on his face reminds me of a man I loved, a man who was born into this world feet first. “Breech,” my mother told me of her brother’s birth. “Alan was born feet first. As a result, his brain was denied oxygen. He is special.” As a child, I was impressed by this information.