This truth came home to me as I indulged in one of the joys
of being editor of Lake Superior Magazine. I was researching a piece of
lake history and stumbled time and again onto story connections. The
story (found in this issue) is about the great Mataafa Blow of 1905, a
horrific storm that brought tragedies and heroism in its wake.
While I was copying old newspaper articles in the public
library, an older woman at a nearby table asked what story I had there.
When I told her, she said, “My grandmother used to tell me about going
down to the canal and watching that boat in the storm.” Barely a degree
there.
Later at the office, I was tracking the family of a man
in an old newspaper article who said that he survived on Mataafa. About
that time, our customer service representative handed me a note from an
out-of-state subscriber who, while renewing her subscription, mentioned
that her father-in-law had been on Mataafa. His was the family I sought.
Within a week or two, another generous subscriber called.
Did I have any use, she asked, for a 1905 postcard of the Mataafa wreck
by photographer Hugh McKenzie?
Folks from bigger cities might be surprised by such links,
but here they are so normal as to be expected. With generations of
human roots and a not-so-big population around the lake, we often share
common family or friends, common experiences or common histories. Time
for us does not fade as quickly as in places where associations are
more rare. Only a degree or two separates us from ties to a century-old
storm. Imagine how much closer the connection - and sorrow - for
something so recent as the sinking of Edmund Fitzgerald just 30 years
ago. Many crew members came from our shores and many families remain
here. Each anniversary of the famous wreck, with its accompanying
attention, reminds of the grief never fully healed.
I like to believe that the small-town seams on our big-sea
lake make us a little friendlier to strangers. Who wants to risk being
rude to the sister of your aunt’s best friend? These things get back to
the family, you know.
The real bond, of course, whether family, friend or
first-time visitor, is the large expanse of water that washes over all
of our lives. We drink it, we play in it and some of us have lost our
people to its angrier moods or pitiless moments. It is our past, our
present and our future. Between our lives and Lake Superior, there is
really no degree of separation at all.
Konnie LeMay
Editor
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