LAKESIDE OR CITY? By Edward Fesler

Where's the best place to live, Lakeside or city? I'll jump right into the fight and declare unequivocally that Lakeside is better. Here's why: My home is right on this big, crystal-clear lake, which is sixty miles wide. I have a beautiful, unobstructed view. I have tranquility, plenty of sun (sometimes 24 hours a day), and no pollution. Very few neighbors to crowd me. Friendly natives. No cars. The kids around here are as cute and friendly as newborn waif pups.

People don't realize that a lake of this size stabilizes the swings of temperature. It makes the daily differences less extreme. The moon and stars are absolutely brilliant in the cold night sky. You see neighbors sloshing their way home from bridge games or the Little Theater guided by the light of the moon and the stars. Candle light from some of the homes also helps them find their way.

How many cultural activities do we have? Well, we have a good library that's open between 10 and 12 AM. It's in English. There's lots of bridge games going on all the time. Some of those bridge games get so serious you'd think you were watching a polar bear fight. Our little theater group does lots of swell plays in English. The American Legion club has dances and serves food when it's available. All of us, men, women and children, work in crafts. We work mainly in bone and leather, which first has to be chewed to make it pliable.

Our lake is big, but the boats on it are small, not much bigger than an ordinary kayak. The fish we catch are tiny little things. I think the bigger fish are eaten by hungry animals swimming in the lake. I've seen their round brown heads and droopy gray moustaches poking above the surface of the water.

I'm no expert on life in the Big City, but one winter I took the eight-week trek straight south to the biggest city I know, which is Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and I got really mad. A thing called an "automobile" ran over White Fang, my lead sled dog, and zoomed off before I could unsling my walrus rifle and peg a shot at it. But I've heard tell that five thousand miles south of here is another crystal-clear lake sixty miles wide. It's called Lake Chapala, in Mexico, so I'm leaving the North Pole to go there. Their Legion club serves hamburgers instead of whale blubber of and the fish in the lake grow huge because there are no walruses to eat them. It sounds like paradise to me.

But I sure hope they have a library, bridge club and little theater at Lake Chapala. A cultivated Eskimo like me appreciates all the better things in life. At least I won't have to live in a goldanged city where automobiles run over your best sled dogs.