Yukon River: The Steaks

After spending some time in the wilderness, the lure of certain foods begins to attack the senses. The night before we were due to canoe into Dawson City, our group gathered around the campfire. The topic of restaurant food at our celebratory dinner was high on the agenda.

The "regulars" appeared: ice cream, hamburger, fries, salad, chocolate cake, anything without sand or dirt. Then, there was Horst's choice .

Horst was, as you may have guessed, from Germany. This big strapping fellow had a deep, strong authoritative voice, that no doubt served him well as a special forces policeman in Berlin.

"Len, I must have a big steak. It will be the biggest steak in Dawson. Where would I find such a steak?"

I cautioned Horst that steaks are extremely expensive in Dawson. The largest on a menu would be around 16 oz, as most people could not eat, nor afford, more. I expected that this reality check would cause Horst to lower his expectations.

"Good! I am pleased. I will have two steaks."

But - the cost, the indigestion?

"I will tell you a story, Len. My father was a hard working man in the factory. He grew up during the tough times before the war. He looked after his family. When my mother died, he continued his daily routine at home and at work. He never took a holiday away from home. He used to talk to me about the places he wanted to see, but there never was enough money to see his dreams come true.

When I became a policeman and was making good pay, I would arrange travel trips for my retired father so that he could see all the places that he would talk about. I was happy that I could do that for my father.

After he died, I was pleased that his retirement days were filled with good memories.

I went to the lawyer to hear about the few possessions he had. The lawyer explained that the important things in his life would be passed on to me, as well as all the money that my father had in his savings account at the bank. The lawyer had me look at my father's bank information. I looked at my father's bank book. 'This must be a mistake,' I said to the lawyer. He said that there was no mistake. I looked at the balance again - it was over one million deutschmarks - that would be over one million dollars Canadian! How could this be? I was helping him pay some bills and sending him on trips.

The lawyer said that it is true. My father had won a big lottery a number of years ago. The lawyer said that many men who came from my father's generation were afraid that the economy would be bad again, like it was before and after the war. They held on to their money for fear that they would have enough to live if inflation made the deutschmark almost worthless again.

I will not be my father - I will have the steaks."

Horst did have his steaks, with all the fixings. He gladly paid the more than $75 dollar tab.