Birth­days are impor­tant to me, but I’ve been slip­ping late­ly. Just last week, I kept a close eye on the cal­en­dar, eager to call my dad on his high holy day. And I did call him – only to learn that I’d cir­cled a date two days past due. Oops. Between that and the fab­u­lous Wild Moun­tain Mem­oir Retreat, this belat­ed recog­ni­tion of Hooked’s sec­ond birth­day isn’t surprising.

It’s okay — no boat cats were harmed for this photo.

Some might find it sil­ly, fuss­ing over a blog’s date of ori­gin. Maybe. But in rec­og­niz­ing Hooked’s begin­nings, what I real­ly mean to hon­or is the anniver­sary of our friend­ship. Some of you have been here since our launch two years ago, while oth­ers are new­ly aboard. Some fre­quent­ly engage in the con­ver­sa­tion; many more are like I was all through school – claim­ing an unob­tru­sive spot in the back, care­ful­ly fol­low­ing dis­cus­sions while fly­ing under the radar.

What­ev­er role suits you best, I’m grate­ful for your pres­ence. You buoy me by sim­ply show­ing up, and encour­age me to show up, too. Thanks to you, I strung a lot of words togeth­er over the past 12 months. Some more mem­o­rable than oth­ers; main­tain­ing a prac­tice of writ­ing was the point. You made me account­able where I might have oth­er­wise been lazy. As author Heather Lende explained, “I write because you read.”

And what did you read?

You joined Cap’n J and I for our sea­son­al life aboard the Ner­ka, tran­si­tion­ing from land to sea last March. In Sep­tem­ber, you heard Bear the Boat Cat share her dis­plea­sure at too-many months aboard. You went hal­ibut fish­ing with us in May, spent June prepar­ing for the salmon sea­son, and chased kings in July. (The next two months were a blur: over 47 days, we spent 149 hours at the dock. I wasn’t such a reli­able con­trib­u­tor dur­ing that time.) You gave thanks for the sea­son’s boun­ty, tak­ing a seat at the table for Fish­er­man’s Thanks­giv­ing.

Though I often refer to our work’s sea­son­al­i­ty, you under­stand that being a fish­er­man includes year-round respon­si­bil­i­ties. It means advo­cat­ing for con­sci­en­tious man­age­ment  and speak­ing out against genet­i­cal­ly engi­neered salmon. (That work isn’t over, friends. The FDA’s pub­lic com­ment peri­od clos­es on April 26; please go here to add your thoughts.)

You’re aware of the inher­ent risks we accept every time we untie the dock lines, and know that we feel each loss at sea – even those on the oth­er side of the con­ti­nent – as one of our own. You know that some­times fish­er­men get lucky, like the mirac­u­lous sur­vival of the man in the fish tote. Regard­less of whether you’re an ocean-goer your­self or firm­ly root­ed to the shore, you under­stand the real price of fish.

You know that gen­der is bound to my expe­ri­ence as a fish­er­man. I told you about being the first woman that one of my male ship­mates crewed with. You met Aman­da, a young woman dream­ing of a life at sea. You encour­aged her through her uncer­tain­ty and frus­tra­tions, and cel­e­brat­ed her tri­umph. (Aman­da was also Hooked’s first guest writer. I loved you all a seri­ous lot for the warm wel­come you gave her.)

You griev­ed with me, remem­ber­ing a young man from my social work­er days, and hon­ored Native leader Isabel­la Brady for her tremen­dous lega­cy. We walked for life last May, acknowl­edg­ing sui­cide as an epi­dem­ic in rur­al Alaskan com­mu­ni­ties, and sought hope in this video.

We laid Hooked’s first incar­na­tion, a WordPress.com site, to rest with a video from one of my favorite places in Sit­ka. Thanks to the Chica­go Boy’s gen­er­ous time and skill, we rang 2013 in by migrat­ing to our new, self-host­ed home here.

Good tim­ing, this birth­day. Writ­ers burned up the inter­nets last week, hot­ly argu­ing whether or not  they should be blog­ging. Is it a dis­trac­tion from “real” writ­ing projects? Is it nec­es­sary to pave the road to publication?

I can’t deny that Hooked some­times dis­tracts me from the chap­ters I need to be writ­ing. But that’s not because blog­ging is some­thing I think I should be doing, that this is a strate­gic, end-goal-ori­ent­ed oblig­a­tion. Being here with you is fun. Over the past two years, you’ve made writ­ing a grat­i­fy­ing, rec­i­p­ro­cal exchange.

My friend Kar­la made this beau­ti­ful sug­ges­tion. “Per­haps blog­ging is like the tide, a flood that can serve to recharge and the ebb which is a drain. The inten­si­ty, depen­dent on the seasons.”

A per­fect thought to close one spe­cial year and enter the next.

Thanks to Port Townsend’s Tyler Street Café for apple strudel birth­day cake. Bear approved.