Ode to Dorro Sokol

Dorro Sokol was a fine lady, especially when it came to making Ice Worm Cocktails. Really!

Way back in the early 1990s, Dorro and a few other stalwart Sisters Country residents enrolled in Carol Moorehead's Sisters Campus COCC Continuing Education class I was teaching on the Bard of the North, Robert Service. Oh, what a grand time we had sharing his poetry with one another and learning about his life. We thrilled when he took his small river boat and explored the upper reaches of the Yukon River, and began to write his immortal poetry.

Two of Service's elegant poems caught us all in the COCC class. One, "The World's All Right," with the powerful last stanza:

The World's all right; serene I sit, And joy that I'm a part of it;

And put my trust in Nature's plan,

And try to aid her all I can;

Content to pass. If in my place

I've served the uplift of the Race.

Truth! Beauty! Love! O Radiant Day -

What ho! The World's all right, I say.

And the one that hit Dorro and other members of the class and me in the funny bone was, "The Ballad of the Ice Worm Cocktail." We all delighted in it. That piece is one of Service's longer works, and actually a very clever and hilarious story about a nimrod named Major Percy Brown who came to the Yukon to kill indigenous wildlife, but ran afoul of Barman Bill, Sheriff Black and his drinkin' buddies.

Between them they got Major Brown talked into drinking the infamous Yukon Ice Worm Cocktail, which about put poor old Brown into the grave, coaxing him along with such lines as:

And with a roar the mob proclaimed: "Cheechako, Major Brown; Reveal that you're of Sourdough stuff, and drink your cocktail down."

The Major took another look, then quickly closed his eyes; For even as he raised his glass he felt his gorge arise;

Aye, even though his sight was sealed, in fancy he could see; That grey and greasy thing that reared and sneered in mockery.

It was the last line in the ballad that Dorro and I loved, and without prompting she said, "Hey, next week is the last class, let's all celebrate with an Ice Worm Cocktail."

I caught the ice worms, and bless Dorro's fun-loving soul, she brought the cocktail glasses and the sparkling cider. I will never forget that night as we all stood and toasted the Bard of the North, reciting his grand poem, and at the end, when we all dashed our ice worm cocktails down...

And ere next night his story was the talk of Dawson Town; But gone and reft of glory was the wrathful Major Brown; For that ice-worm (so they told him) of such formidable size; Was-a stick of stained spaghetti with two red ink spots for eyes.

So long, Dorro Old Pal, it's been good to know ya'.