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Jessica A. Lishinski
April 15, 1978 - May 21, 1999
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There are not many times in a lifetime that a truly
talented person happens to appear at the door, begins unobtrusively to
make a mark and then is whisked away before you know it. This was the circumstance
for Lake Superior Magazine as we worked on this issue and were joined
by Jessica Lishinski, an intern from St. Cloud State University, St. Cloud,
Minnesota. No sooner did we get to know her than her life was ended in
a tragic accident that affected us all in significant ways.
Jessica became endeared to our entire staff within hours of beginning her
short stint with the magazine. She was a woman with a strong set of goals,
and it became obvious that when she set goals, she achieved them. Jessica
learned early on that she had choices in her life. She selected the ones
that normally might be ignored and bent them to her will.
In her application for her internship with LSM, Jessica told us,
“As a person with a passion for culture and nature who is mesmerized by
the recreation and beauty our natural wonders provide, I believe Lake
Superior Magazine could provide me with a unique opportunity to apply
my writing talents and develop them further.… I refuse to become a victim
of the ‘couch potato’ society; I believe the adage ‘the pen is mightier
than the sword;’ I have a meticulous obsession with grammar and like a
little intellectual sweat.”
When Jessica was still a small girl, her mother read to her from the book
Girls
Can Be Anything: you can choose to be the stewardess or you can choose
to be the pilot. Jessica always chose to be the pilot.
And she literally became a pilot by the age of 21, giving her family a
thrill by flying them around the Minnesota Iron Range, where she lived
most of her life. She also managed to “pilot” herself to Africa for an
adventure. Jessica had a passion for Lake Superior and a special rock near
their family’s vacation cottage in the Keweenaw that she called her “thinking
spot.”
She set one goal to become a journalist and along the way managed to land
an internship with a daily newspaper that really wasn’t looking for an
intern but needed a full-time reporter. The Mesabi Daily News couldn’t
believe its good fortune to have such skills at its fingertips from someone
only hired for the summer to answer phones.
Jessica was to be the assistant managing editor at her college newspaper
when she returned for her senior year this fall. But first, she wanted
to fill part of her summer with the special internship at Lake Superior
Magazine. Her mother and father, Ann and Gary, tell us it’s what she
had talked about for months. She wanted most to see her name in a glossy
publication. And so she began her magazine career with us by working on
stories about shooting stars, water rescues and bumboats. Before she was
two weeks into the training, she fell 30 feet onto rocks while inline skating
during a recreational outing in one of Duluth’s parks. She suffered fatal
injuries from the fall, but she had already made the wish known that her
organs should be removed to be donated to others. It left her family and
friends in a state of shock that such a vibrant, willing woman could lose
her future so quickly. And it left us at the magazine totally saddened
that her potential and abilities would be lost. One of our rising stars
was gone.
Jessica had developed an amazing perspective on life in her 21 short, but
full, years. We hardly knew her and yet we knew her so well. At the funeral
we learned that she had developed a love of quiet Tuesday afternoons and
shooting stars. Ironically, on her last day with us, she researched a story
about a shooting star sighted over the Keweenaw. It was the quiet Tuesday
afternoon of her fatal accident.
Jessica wrote a column while she was interning at the Mesabi Daily News
about her “thinking spot” in the Keweenaw. We have permission to share
it with you. We mourn the loss of this special person, but we celebrate
her contributions.
Jessica Lishinski loved Lake Superior, and her sister, Jaime, and brother,
Matt, share that love.
IN SOLITUDE WE’RE REALLY LEAST ALONE
In solitude we are least alone. That’s what my fortune cookie told me after
dinner last night, and its echoes are still fierce.
The echoes sing with a striking sense of peace, evoking an intense flow
of personal emotions. The echoes bring an image to mind of the special
place I recently visited. An image of profound solitude.
The words proclaimed by my fortune cookie bring me down a winding path
framed by thimbleberry bushes, over the heap of driftwood, which plays
home to field mice and bears an immortal mark of the love I share with
Billy, as our names are carved deeply into its veins.
They bring me to the rocky shoreline of Lake Superior, where I carefully
watch my footing as I navigate to my destination … a theater where I see
the infinite blue waters swallow the sun at nightfall from my seat in the
audience - the rock I call my “thinking spot.”
Whether it be a lawn chair in the back yard or a trail through the woods,
we should all have a “thinking spot.” A place where we are swallowed and
overwhelmed by our surroundings. A place where we feel like a part of something
greater. A place where we feel like dust in the wind.
My rock is nestled behind the summer home in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula
where I spent all of my childhood summers. A place 300 miles from Virginia
(Minnesota), yet a world away.
A place where my dad gave me throwing lessons, with a rock as my baseball,
the water my field. A place where, on a clear day, you can see Isle Royale
on the horizon line. A place so far from city lights that the presence
of the stars is overwhelming enough to knock you off your feet. A place
where the beam from the lighthouse sweeps the beach, illuminating the rugged
shoreline with a spotlight fit for Broadway. A place where, at night, the
strings of lights on the ore boats in the shipping lanes seven miles from
shore glimmer like diamond bracelets on their way to Duluth. A place where
August’s meteor showers let you wish on 30 falling stars. A place that
swallowed me when I was seven, and swallows me still at 20.
My rock is a place where I am not only a part of the world, but the world
is also a part of me.
The waves below roll through my veins, crashing onto the rocky shoreline
of my soul, still managing to splash me somehow. There is music all around
me. That powerful crash and the bell buoy’s chime, synchronized with a
faint rustle of the wind through the oaks, keep time with the proverbial
metronome ticking within my chest.
The wind is biting, but the fire in my soul keeps me warm.
My rock is a place where I am alone. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with
my dreams. Alone with God. A place where being alone isn’t lonely.
In solitude we are least alone.
- Jessica Lishinski
REPRINTED WITH PERMISSION FROM MESABI DAILY NEWS
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