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I played a child’s birth with a doomed legacy, only the sound the unspoken dark notes of minors and flats. I played a young boy with a voice from God: major C, sweet major G. I played a child who was not afraid to be alone: strong D and D diminished seventh wherein the fear trembled and then was taken up. I played a man who was listened to, because his words were carefully chosen, a tired man whose compassion was spoken: powerful F, soft E flat. I would have played the last supper, but I did not know what betrayal sounded like.
I did not know then how close my own loss was.
The music may have only been noise to my father, but it pealed out from the flute, circled up to the dark cross, wrapped itself around Christ’s body, leapt across the stained glass window, and turned and pealed out the open door, where I heard its distant moan and lilt echoing out across the night bay, where Te-bik-ke-ze, the Ojibwa moon, like God, was silent.
Continue reading "The Religion of Loss"
Old Mission Peninsula
Carol and her husband, Steve, are editors and publishers of the Old Mission Peninsula Historical Society newsletter, a semi-annual account of the doings and works of the people involved in the Historical Society of this unique peninsula. It is here where the first white settler, Peter Dougherty, arrived in Old Mission Peninsula in 1839, and built a 10 bedroom house by hand, the first frame house north of Grand Rapids and south of the Mackinac Bridge. It is a good thing, as 10 children were born to the Doughertys. Through enormous work, the Dougherty-Rushmore House is now preserved. Due to the hard working efforts of the historical society and the graciousness of Peninsula Township, it stands as a monument to our extraordinary beginnings.