Our table at the Iditarod Mushers' Banquet. From the left, you see Caleb, Andrew, Sarah, and Laura.A few days before every race, there is a Mushers' Banquet in Anchorage. It was surreal. The banquet was in a huge convention center, filled with tables and people. One of my mother's favorite musicians, Hobo Jim, was strumming away on his guitar. Hobo Jim holds an honored spot among the very small number of CDs that my mother regularly plays in her truck, so I am well-acquainted with the man's music.
ExxonMobil, a sponsor of the IditarodMy mom wanted her poster autographed by every musher, so she assigned the project to my sister and me. Like a brother-sister con act, I identified the easy marks (that is, mushers I recognized), then my sister would swoop in for the kill (that is, ask them for their autograph). Sadly, the mushers usually seemed to be shoveling steak into their mouths just as we arrived to coax an autograph out of them. Nevertheless, we got a nice handful of celebrity mushers to sign my mom's poster: mission accomplished.
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