How to Bag an Alaska Man

People say you can’t choose to or who to fall in love with, but that’s because they’ve never seen it done or made up their mind to do it because it never occurred to them that it might be possible.  Additionally, the media reinforces the belief that you can magically fall in love with a person you just met and everything will be perfect.  Billions of dollars are made off this belief, so don’t expect it to change.  Well, it’s a load of moose-poo.  Marriage for life takes a lot of hard work and self-sacrifice.  You need someone strong enough to handle the challenge.

Yep, I bagged an Alaska Man a few decades ago.  We have four massive children, because, well, he’s a skyscraper. Probably would’ve had more little darlings if I’d gotten started earlier. Everything’s big in Alaska, you know, and our brood seemed about average. Our governor at the time, Sarah Palin, had five. Plenty of room and lots of salmon and moose-burger to eat and the economy was booming. Ha!

Sidenote: Alaska is always in need of medical professionals and teachers.


I was a late bloomer and didn’t really start feeling like a grown-up until I was pushing thirty. And then I was, like, “Gadzooks! I need to get hitched!”

Because I wanted a large family.


Being the child of divorce, I knew it would take an especially strong man with similar values.  I wanted my babies to have a daddy who would stick around and help raise them.


(My review of this Alaska Romance can be found here- HIS SECRET ALASKAN HEIRESS)

I began to develop a plan. I looked around where I was and didn’t see any suitable husband material, so I asked my biggest brother because he married well and had lots of babies too. He said I should move to Alaska, walk into the biggest church in town, and just take my pick.

At the time, the men outnumbered the women ten to one in Alaska. In churches, it was about thirty to one, probably because of the military bases. Also, Alaska attracts lots of rugged manly men simply because, well, it’s Alaska. The Alaska Experiment


So, I moved to Alaska, walked into the biggest church in town, laid eyes on a tall, gorgeous blond and said, “Okay, Lord, I’ll take that one.”

And the rest is history.  Family History.

So what if you want to bag your own, but you’re not into churches? Get social in a group where there are lots of guys with similar values and interests in life. You don’t have to fall in love with an idiot-loser, no matter how handsome or charming. You can make up your own mind, and your heart will follow. Love horses? Join an equestrian group. Want to go hiking? There’s plenty of outdoor adventure groups.

Also, there is a Matchmaker, come to think of it. Check out Susie’s Alaska Men

Think I’m crazy? My single mom once tracked down an Alaska Man when she spotted his bumper-sticker advertising for a wife. Yep, it runs in the family. She didn’t end up marrying him though, too cold for her up there.  (I’m glad too, because the dude she did marry is great.)

Which brings me to the last point.

Don’t go bag an Alaska Man unless you’re sure you want to live in Alaska for the rest of your life. (I’ll post about moving to Alaska later.) I never understood the fascination with wanting to change a man, because that typically dooms the relationship. And then he wouldn’t be the same man you fell in love with anyway. I’ve seen it happen to a lot of women. I’m assuming you’re in this for life. Accept your man for what he already is and be thankful.
Meanwhile, check out ALASKA ROMANCE NOVELS
sweethomealaskaThis little beauty is on sale now, but you might need to order it online.  The Heartwarming line isn’t typically on store shelves, although I think it really should be.  SWEET HOME ALASKA at Harlequin

Happy Trails.

P.S. This post was originally intended for the Cowboy Baby Homestead blog, but I’ve merged it with this one.  I intend to morph the Kimber Li blog into a Lifestyle Blog.  If you want to read more posts like this one, pop over to The Cowboy Baby Homestead


  1. Chewtoy says:

    Not sure it is a few decades yet but almost.


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