I wasn’t going to put the bear part in, because although I survived, I was eleven and did so by crouching, pants still down, in the very corner of the outhouse (it was a large outhouse, owned by a private family, so it wasn’t as gross as it could have been lol), crying, listening to the bear claw at the wooden door and growl. He shook the whole thing a few times, then I could hear him lumber off into the brush.

I still didn’t move — not even to pull up my pants — for another hour. Everyone over eighteen was down fishing, so it was really just me and I wasn’t going to chance it.

LOL I’d only lived in Alaska for a year, then. I was TERRIFIED.

But it is, if nothing else, a VIVID memory. :)