Hi, I am Gwen Neal, known by my friends as “Aurora.” I grew up in a small town in Minnesota, where my expectations for myself were clear—meet someone in college, get married, become a teacher, and eventually stay home to raise children. That was the path laid out for me and so many your women like me. It’s what I thought I wanted. But my life didn’t quite follow that script.
I graduated from college without a boyfriend, and with an adventurous spirit, I decided to move from Minnesota to Alaska. My aunt, uncle, and cousins lived there, and I had already worked summers as a waitress in their fast-paced restaurant. It seemed like the perfect place to start my teaching career. I taught elementary music teacher for a couple of years. Teaching was what I knew, all I had ever known.
My father was an amazing music teacher and my life was deeply enriched by music. But something inside me knew teaching wasn’t the right fit. I felt drawn toward something different, just what I didn’t know.
I left teaching and tried other things, mostly office work. I got married, but after three years, we divorced—thankfully, without children. This was a turning point. I moved to a breathtakingly beautiful small town, still in Alaska, on the ocean, surrounded by mountains.
From here, life had its own plans for me. I took an office job with a construction company. Several months later my boss asked me out. Our friendship and admiration for each other grew into love. A Christmas Eve proposal was followed by our marriage the following summer. My husband, Tony, was older and had two children who split their time between Alaska and Australia.
Not long into our relationship, Tony received a letter from his former wife, who wanted the children to settle in Alaska full-time as they progressed out of primary into middle and secondary education. That was the beginning of family life—a role I stepped into with open arms. I had always wanted children but couldn’t, so creating an Alaska family with these two pre-teens, Sarah and Jeff, was a tremendous gift. As time went on, I suggested to my husband, Tony, that we adopt a child, and he was in favor of the idea. Tony had visited India and really liked the people. The children were on board, too, and that was how our adoption journey began.
In 1987, the Society for International Child Welfare in Kolkata (then Calcutta) published a book of “Waiting Children.” We searched for a child who would be closer in age to Sarah and Jeff, and that’s when we found Munna. There was something special about him—his energy, his engaging smile, and his precious little singing voice. As a musician, I felt connected to him immediately. We needed a healthy child since we lived in a small town without many medical resources, and Munna was the perfect fit. The adoption process took about a year, and when the time came, I flew to India with Bobbie, who regularly escorted adopting children. We brought Munna and other little ones to the U.S. It was a happy day when we finally landed in Seattle, Washington. But with all the excitement, I suddenly realized I’d forgotten to get Munna a plane ticket to Alaska! I bit of scrambling and we were back on track, headed north.
It was September, 1987, and we enrolled Munna in school right away. At first, his teacher was hesitant. “I don’t know if I can have him in my class. He won’t wear his shoes. He runs around so full of energy,” she said. I reassured her, “He’ll figure it out.” And he did. He thrived in school, and to channel his energy, we introduced him to wrestling. It became his passion. He wrestled from the age of seven all the way through university. It gave him focus, discipline, and a sense of belonging. We also needed to rename Munna, which was more a name for a sweet little child than a real name. We chose Sirish, an Indian name that means bounty. And he was just that. He goes by “Siri.”
Adopting Siri remains the most significant and fulfilling decision of my life. While raising Siri, I pursued another dream. I wanted to earn a master’s degree and found a program in the San Francisco Bay area of California that focused on culture and spirituality—subjects that had always intrigued me. To balance family and education, I attended just one semester per year, extending the time it took to complete the program. Tony and Siri remained in Alaska. We made intermittent visits in both directions. Sarah and Jeff were both living in the Bay area attending university, so we had family time in California. My thesis explored how women maintain their sense of self in relationship—a question I had personally wrestled with during the early years of marriage. That project gave me clarity and direction for the next several years and the next stage of my life.
After raising the children and seeing them off to university and beyond, I found myself at another crossroads. My husband owned a construction business that primarily worked with the Department of Defense in Guam and remote locations of Alaska. I worked alongside him, but as global politics shifted, so did the industry, providing the opportunity to pursue something new. This would be my final career. I needed it to be something I felt passionate about. It needed to be challenging, not boring, and with continuous opportunity to learn and grow as a human being. I decided to go to law school.
I was 48 when the idea first took hold, and by 50, I was starting my legal education back in Minnesota. I chose a law school that emphasized hands-on experience and welcomed older students. It was a perfect fit—I was back home, surrounded by family and long-time friends. Law school was challenging, especially after being out of school for so long, but I was motivated, excited, and determined to succeed.
My focus in law school was clear: I wanted to help families. I specialized in domestic relations working with children and parents. After graduation, I faced the daunting task of passing the Alaska bar exam, one of the toughest in the country. With tremendous family support I passed and opened my own practice. From day one I was busy. I had been a part of the community for many years, with a wide-ranging network of associations. I have been so fortunate.
Today, a significant portion of my work is government-contracted. I represent parents—mothers or fathers—whose children have been taken away due to neglect, drug misuse, or unsafe conditions. My job is to guide them through the process, to help them understand the steps they need to take to reunite with their children. It’s not easy. All parents struggle and many don’t succeed. But when they commit to the process, there’s hope.
Many of my criminal defendant clients also have children in the government’s custody. If a parent is incarcerated, their chances of regaining custody diminish. But if the other parent is able to stabilize and develop a safe living environment, the children can reunite with that parent. Many parents don’t succeed and lose their parental rights. Their children are usually adopted by family members or foster parents, regardless of the child’s age.
I also handle divorce cases, always with the children’s best interests in mind. Divorce can have a devastating impact on kids, and I do my best to encourage parents to put their children first, to help them transition with as little disruption as possible.
This work isn’t glamorous—it’s messy and emotional—but it is truly my passion. I’ve always been a people person, and sitting in a corporate office drafting contracts was never for me. I may not have taken the most traditional path, but I found my true calling in advocating for families. That is where I belong.
Another adventurous tradition in our family is commercial fishing for salmon. Every year for the past 38+ years our family and hired crew have gathered in June and July at a remote location we call “fish camp,” to fish in the ocean for sockeye salmon.
Thanks to Starlink satellite technology, I can run my law practice from this remote place accessible only by airplane. Siri has been fishing here since he was eight years old—he’s now 45. Siri and Sarah return every year with their children. This year our foster daughter Amy, another tremendous joy in our family life, is fishing with us. Fish camp is the glue that holds our family together. Working hard together and living together makes for intimate family time, something we treasure year after year.
Meanwhile, life has come full circle. Siri is now a father with a sweet and energetic six-year-old son named Sanjay, in Sanskrit meaning “triumphant.” Sanjay’s caring mom is Lesa, who immigrated to the USA from Jamaica. Siri and I just returned from a most amazing journey to India where we retraced Siri’s roots from being a street kid in Kolkata to living in the Liluah institution, then the SICW (now Society for Indian Children’s Welfare) orphanage, and finally, being adopted. We visited Nina Nayak, who facilitated Siri’s adoption almost 40 years ago, and is affectionately known as Siri’s “India mom.”
My journey hasn’t been conventional, but it’s been extraordinary. Every choice, every twist and turn, has led me to a life filled with purpose. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.
