when the waves turn the minutes to hours

my father used to/still does sing this song whenever the waves begin to pick up on the lake. my mother always quickly hushes him, but we all sit there humming in under our breath. saying these little prayers. looking out over the lake that is so calm and gentle, yet so ruthless and unforgiving. its this level of respect for the water. i couldn't quite explain it when asked recently, but the song always seems to sum it up.


"The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'.
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early!"

when the waves turn the minutes to hours

my father used to/still does sing this song whenever the waves begin to pick up on the lake. my mother always quickly hushes him, but we all sit there humming in under our breath. saying these little prayers. looking out over the lake that is so calm and gentle, yet so ruthless and unforgiving. its this level of respect for the water. i couldn't quite explain it when asked recently, but the song always seems to sum it up.


"The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'.
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early!"

"its yours baby..."

my parents never cease to amaze me.

so. get this.

friday. mom calls. "hunny, why don't you meet me at the marina and help me unpack for the weekend and then your father and i want to take you out for dinner...." So I'm like, strange, you're pretty capable, but I love you (and the promised free meal is an excellent inncentive), so,..."I'll see you at 4:00. "So mom swings by the Loft to pick me up.

***TIME OUT***
Important detail #1.
If you don't know, I don't have a car, haven't had a car for almost 6 months now. "Sticky-stick", the manual transmission, 5 speed, 1991 Mazda 626 finally passed on this winter. (May sticky-stick rest in peace).

Important detail #2.
I sold my explorer. My parents were going to take the money, buy a new trany for Sticky-stick, and ship her back to the coast for me. That was supposed to happen......about 2 months ago.

Important detail #3.
I have 2 jobs. This is good. I have a bike. This is good. Except the occasional inconvenience of riding my bike in the rain and or thunder storm, hailstorm, lightening storm, tornado, or hurricanes that have taken to afflicting the greater west michigan area. And Oh, Yeah, did I mention its a mountain bike? Not exactly the most user friendly bike during the 7-mile-each-way-ride-to-work.

(alright, continue...)

So mom and I go to the marina. I grab the cart, load up the bags, and trek out onto the dock. I take the bags, place them on the boat, put the cooler on the dock. Make an Ice run to the ship's store. Ice is $2.00 this year. What a joke! $2.00 for frozen water! Mom says she wants to buy an ice maker and put it in the gazebo, but maybe the marina wouldn't be too crazy about that...

So we get unpacked. Mom talks to dad. He says he's still an hour or so out. I'm hungry. Mom is hungry. We grumble about being hungry. We get done grumbling about our bellies, and grab some chairs and my laptop. We sit on the end of the concrete docks, on the corner where everyone beaches their inflatables. We check the weather, I show mom some of my drawings, we talk about our weeks, about the weather. We get back around to grumbling about our stomachs again. I say I'm going to the boat to nap or read or something. Mom says, "Grab the keys off the boat, and get my camera out of the van. Go take some pictures of the clouds." I'm mutter, "fine," under my breath and march off to the boat. I grab the camera, slow down the shutter speed, and try to take some shots of the waves. Mom wants pictures of the clouds, and pictures of the white caps on Lake Mac. I'm a little annoyed. She's grown up on the lake, it's not like she's never seen whitecaps on the lake. But I enjoy photography, so I keeping snapping shots. I come back, she calls dad, "Where are you? We're getting hungry!" He's 10 minutes out.

All of a sudden a red station wagon pulls up. I'm pretty sure dad is in it. "Is that dad?" I ask mom. "no, that's not your father." she answers. I'm thinking, no that's definitely dad, what the heck is going on?! He gets out. "Dad, where's your truck?! What happened?" He has a stern face on. I'm seriously worried now. "What's going on?" He says, "My truck is fine, they took it, they put me in something economical." I say, "What?!" He mutters something about being "new at the company" and "needing to prove himself". I'm almost in tears now. Dad has been working weekends and overtime for the past 5 months. He's drained and tired every time I see him. Then he says, "It's yours."

"WHAT?"

"Its yours baby. Its yours."

"The CAR?"

"Yeah sweety. Your mother and Chris scraped some money together and got it."


"Oh my gosh."


(so point of this story)

I am pretty blessed. I have a beautiful family who pulls together when we need it most. We aren't always a pretty picture. We don't always speak in soft tones. But we are a family. What a picture of sacrifice. I saw Jesus when my parents were standing there in front of that little red car. What a beautiful thing!


So I am the owner of a 1996 Red Ford Escort Station Wagon.

Name suggestions are welcome.