Harold Houston

Harold Raymond Houston, age 72, passed away in his sleep on 7/7/17, at home with his daughter Erin Hall. He was the husband of Annette Houston from 1980-present, Barbara Houston 1968-1979.
Born in Evansville, Indiana, he was son of Harold and Colleen Houston. He worked as a surveyor his whole life working in California, Arizona, and Alaska. He made no secret that the best times of his life were on the slopes of Alaska with his friends Bill Orr, Raymond Naylor, and Bill Mills.
Harold was incredibly intelligent and well read. He would give you a history lesson as he beat you at Chess. He was never good at showing it but he was loving and supportive father. He was always there to give the best advice from life to homework questions. He always believed his children would succeed and did what he could to help. His love and support will be terribly missed.
He is survived by his wife, Annette, 4 children: Erin, Jeff, Erik, and Josh, his 7 grandchildren, and his 2 sisters: Marsha and Janet.
He always talked about "running away back to Alaska", so his ashes will be spread in the Kenai River near the Gulf of Alaska.

The Spell of the Yukon
BY ROBERT W. SERVICE
I wanted the gold, and I sought it;
I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvya�"I fought it;
I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got ita�"
Came out with a fortune last fall,a�"
Yet somehow life's not what I thought it,
And somehow the gold isn't all.

No! There's the land. (Have you seen it?)
It's the cussedest land that I know,
From the big, dizzy mountains that screen it
To the deep, deathlike valleys below.
Some say God was tired when He made it;
Some say it's a fine land to shun;
Maybe; but there's some as would trade it
For no land on eartha�"and I'm one.

You come to get rich (damned good reason);
You feel like an exile at first;
You hate it like hell for a season,
And then you are worse than the worst.
It grips you like some kinds of sinning;
It twists you from foe to a friend;
It seems it's been since the beginning;
It seems it will be to the end.

I've stood in some mighty-mouthed hollow
That's plumb-full of hush to the brim;
I've watched the big, husky sun wallow
In crimson and gold, and grow dim,
Till the moon set the pearly peaks gleaming,
And the stars tumbled out, neck and crop;
And I've thought that I surely was dreaming,
With the peace o' the world piled on top.

The summera�"no sweeter was ever;
The sunshiny woods all athrill;
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.
The strong life that never knows harness;
The wilds where the caribou call;
The freshness, the freedom, the farnessa�"
O God! how I'm stuck on it all.

The winter! the brightness that blinds you,
The white land locked tight as a drum,
The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.
The snows that are older than history,
The woods where the weird shadows slant;
The stillness, the moonlight, the mystery,
I've bade 'em good-bya�"but I can't.

There's a land where the mountains are nameless,
And the rivers all run God knows where;
There are lives that are erring and aimless,
And deaths that just hang by a hair;
There are hardships that nobody reckons;
There are valleys unpeopled and still;
There's a landa�"oh, it beckons and beckons,
And I want to go backa�"and I will.

They're making my money diminish;
I'm sick of the taste of champagne.
Thank God! when I'm skinned to a finish
I'll pike to the Yukon again.
I'll fighta�"and you bet it's no sham-fight;
It's hell!a�"but I've been there before;
And it's better than this by a damsitea�"
So me for the Yukon once more.

There's gold, and it's haunting and haunting;
It's luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting
So much as just finding the gold.
It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder,
It's the forests where silence has lease;
It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It's the stillness that fills me with peace.