Tag Archives: guilt

Grateful for you during Christmas!

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I have been thinking all week about what I could write that someone wants to read about that I am grateful for this week. I ran through my list of everything I am grateful for that I have not mentioned yet, and none of it seemed worth mentioning because it is too trivial, or important just to me.

Every day I sit at my computer I see a box of Christmas cards off to my left. They are not special cards, or expensive, just the every day run of the mill cards that we buy at the store to fill out and mail to each other. I imagine for someone who has never been in my computer room they would seem out of place. Whether it is January or July for a number of years now, they would see the same box of cards.

The reason they are here and not in a landfill a decade go is not because I filled them out and mailed them, is because I have not. I tell myself each year, I am going to address the cards, write something personal inside of each one, and mail them. Every day this time of year I tell myself I am going to do it tomorrow for sure. I started telling myself this year I was going to write them them tomorrow back in October. That way they would be ready for December, and I would actually mail them for once.

In the mean time every Christmas season I receive Christmas cards from family and friends. I receive just enough that the guilt of myself not sending any out again is enough to spur me on to keep that box of cards out until next year. Every day they are out, and I see them I am reminded of my family and friends who have sent me cards over the years. I am grateful for those who do send me cards every Christmas, and I feel guilty I never manage to myself. This year is going to be different, or so I tell myself once again. I am going to surprise everyone who has just about given up on me. I am going to fill them out tomorrow and have them in the mail.

I have decided I am going to do the same thing with the packages I never manage to get in the mail until after New Years. Packages are a lot different. The post office gets so busy this time of year, and the carriers are working a lot more than they should have to. Then because it is so busy, all packages receive some pretty rough treatment. They get thrown, slammed, and crushed. I do not want that to happen to packages I send, so I end up rationalizing why I should wait until after New Years to send them out. That is usually when my Christmas packages are sent. Around the fifth of January.

Now my shameful secret is out and made public about Christmas. I am one of those people with great intent, and terrible follow through with Christmas cards. If you are one of the people who year after year send out Christmas cards to people like me, I am grateful you are there and you send them knowing you probably won’t hear from me. I am grateful you think enough of me for whatever reason to know how much I treasure each and every card, and how bad I feel I never mange to let you know that.

If you are someone just like me I am grateful for you too. I am grateful for you, because the reasons I am grateful this week, will be perfectly obvious to you because you are just like me. Which ever group you are in, I am grateful you are there, and you do what you do. Keep it up, I sure appreciate you!

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Sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald

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The anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald is almost here. The Edmund Fitzgerald sank on November 10, 1975, and her crew of twenty-nine went to their death in freezing water when the Fitzgerald went under during that stormy evening.

I have some guilt that comes out around this time of year because of three of the men that died working on the Fitzgerald. Their names are Bruce L. Hudson, Paul M. Riipa, and Mark A. Thomas, good men all.

I am not sure how I feel now knowing their names. I haven’t looked at their profiles, although I imagine I may some day. In 1975 I was living in California, when in mid summer I left and made my way to the lower Iron Range area of Minnesota. There was a family friend at the time who sailed on the Great Lakes for United States Steel Corp. He heard I needed a job, and made it possible for me to get my card so I could sail too.

I worked on the John Hulst in the fall of 1975. She was an old coal burner, one of the last of her kind to still ply the Great Lakes. The John Hulst would take on a load of Taconite pellets from around the Duluth area, and unload them in the Chicago, Gary, or similar area. It was hard work, and demanding as you spent little time anywhere other than steaming around from dock to dock. The thrill went a way about the beginning of October for me, but I stayed until the John Hulst docked for the winter.

The family friend who helped with my merchant marine card asked me if I was interested in winter sailing? Lake Superior freezes over in the brutal cold that drops down on her, but a few ore boats would continue to work for most if not all of the winter. It was dangerous work naturally, but the pay was increased and it was a lucrative offering. I asked if he would be sailing too, and he said yes he would. So I said sure, why not, I thought it would be more fun if there was someone on board I knew. My friend set it up and we had our report date to sail on the Edmund Fitzgerald as she made her transition from summer to winter sailing.

One night about five days before we were to report, my friend said he was not feeling that well, and he was not going to report for winter sailing. I replied, well if you are are not going, I am not going either, and it was settled just like that. I do not think I spent five seconds thinking about what I said. I knew I did not especially care for that life, so it did not take much to keep me off the boats in the winter weather.

The rest is history, except I remember this time of year, that a snap decision over a bottle of beer caused a man to die in my place. He may of been married, had a family, or wanted to earn money to buy a house, or any other number of wants that drive a man to do dangerous work. Of all the things a man should die for, I hope the man that took my place, had more noble reasons for winter sailing than I did for staying home.

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