July 10
        Home!
  on Michigan Island
What joy to be back here and have Jack with me! He arrived in Ashland from our cabin early yesterday afternoon.

Arrived at Roy’s Point this morning in good style, enjoyed a much calmer ride out, and have reveled in sharing the delight of the Island together.

The “President’s Brunch” on Sunday (for 50-year alumni and older) was its normal inspiring and loving time. I glow in their love of Northland.

July 11

I really enjoyed having Jack here, and was struck afresh by his essential sweetness. He helped me close up last night and reopen this morning, for example, just to experience my routines.

Had a funny moment today. I was singing at the top of my lungs down on the dock as I awaited the tour boat’s docking. After a brilliant finale, I looked up and saw a T.V. camera pointing at me:

I had forgotten today was the day for another media blitz. Sure hope he didn’t have a zoom on, or I’m going to look like a fool, belting out a Judy Garland number at the top of my lungs.

July 12

The peacefulness of the compound as I open everything up in the morning is sublime. Birds chirping; bees humming. They say a hot couple days ahead. Sitting here, in the oh-so-calm morning, a humming bird darting around to peek at me, I feel quite simply that my heart could explode for the sheer joy of it all. Blessings!

Just got the word on the radio that they won’t be doing runs to refill propane tanks either (on top of no latrine pumping.) This is stress for my friends at the Park Service!

My family of Phoebes has “flown the coop.” I miss their noise and activity, but it is nice to have the porch back. Allows me to look at the lighthouses as I read. Extra bonus today, too, as the tour boat brought only campers. Gives me a couple extra hours to myself, though the stream of private boats has been quite steady. I slept 10 solid hours last night.

I won’t predict anymore which days will be slow or busy: today’s weather and docking conditions were perfect. No one on the tour, and a very slow stream of privates.

July 13

Another superb night’s sleep. I’m really “at home” and totally in my routine here now. Making my dinner this morning (French rice salad) because the forecast is for 90 degrees.

Started my day with an hour long visit from Park Superintendent Bob Krumenaker: we talked about the Park and about Scotland (from which he had just returned.)

The rest of the day, I’ve been working NOT to build a sweat, with no shower at hand. Should I dare a swim?

Later: I indeed put on my suit, just in time to hear a boat engine. On went the uniform, desultory tour followed. Sat on the porch until 4:15 pm when the heat and the bugs got to me. So, I ascended. Damn. Another boat! This time it was [Northland colleagues] Brad, Lisa, and Rick. We had a nice time together on the tower, though [one of them] is afraid of heights. I was like a proud Momma showing off. We sat on the porch afterwards, chatting comfortably. No talk of work, which I appreciated. It’s because of their skill that I could be away this month without too much guilt.

Why do I say this is the best thing I’ve ever done?

• Time, which provided perspective, resting, integration
• Beauty, which provided awe, gratitude
• Connection, to my past through reading my journals, to the Park Service, to the visitors, to the Apostle Islands which provided a sense of belonging and destiny
• Timeliness, a good moment in my life and the life of my College to take stock of the present and take hold of the future
• God’s Providence, an incessant “I am” and pressure on my heart to draw nearer
• Writing, my own and others. The power of the written (not typed) word to tap the soul’s core
• Blessing, the affirming sense that I have been prepared to come and serve this special place at this time. I need this time to really solidify that sense of Calling

July 15
 Halfway through the summer: a real beauty

Awakened at 5:30 this morning. Early forecast is for an unbelievable high of 96 degrees (but, of course, global warming is just a theory.) Re-read this journal and am very pleased. It will be a good record in the future of this incomparable time.

The “grand old dame” glows in the afternoon sun, and stands so proudly nestled among the trees.

The tall one, dominating the horizon, framed by the incredible blue sky. I’ll be doing errands—washing dishes for instance—look up, and there they are.

Grand, serene, picturesque. The reason for my being here.

A very hot day. The breeze finally failed after almost a month, and the flies can drive one to distraction. So, I went swimming. How incredible to look up while floating on one’s back and see the lighthouse peering down at one! Two boats arrived which cut my enjoyment short.

July 16

A very stormy night, though the area south of us bore the brunt. A rapidity of lightening that I only recall seeing the night of the straight line winds back in Upstate New York. This is when you feel isolated: knowing someone got clobbered last night, but also knowing you won’t learn who it was unless someone mentions it on the radio.

Very funny (and telling) to read this first reaction [in my journal] to being contacted about the Presidency of Northland College in December 2001: “too small, too isolated, too far north.” Having accepted the call, on March 2003, I wrote: “Being President means constantly learning about yourself, being challenged, finding new depths. Being President means living outside your comfort zone, but being given a chance to serve in deep and abiding ways. Being President is an honor beyond belief.”

On Top of my Tower: Last time

Lake very calm; birds chirping happily all around me. Gorgeous fluffy clouds against pale blue giving way to orange and gray storm clouds to the north and west. A distant rumble of thunder.

What has the month meant to me? Peace; quiet; rebalancing; rediscovery of myself and my past. Solitude. Serenity. Blessings. God’s Creation. God. Gratitude beyond measure.

July 17
Still Michigan Island

When I was awakened by the wind around 4 a.m. this morning, I figured it didn’t look good for an 8 a.m. departure. So it proved. I’m packed and ready to go, and hoping for an early afternoon pick-up.

As I sat on the porch, I smelled smoke and my eyes began to burn. I grabbed the radio and ascended the big tower. So much haze I couldn’t even see Madeline Island! Just when I was going to call in, Stockton beat me to it. Turns out to be a big fire in the Boundary Waters, near where our cabin is! So, back down I ran to call Jack on my cell phone. Couldn’t get through my first two times: heart in throat. Then, I got him and he assured me that the fire is well up the trail. He’s not even getting any of the smoke that is lying so thick around me many miles away. Waiting for Jack to answer the phone—hours it seemed—was a vivid demonstration of how very precious he is to me.

My Michigan Island totals:

June: 32 tours 128 people
July: 67 tours 367 people
Total: 99 tours 495 people

Later: 2:05 pm The call just came in to say that the Plover is leaving Little Sand Bay, en route Michigan Island. Right on cue, the phoebe comes back to the sign: first time in a week, to bid me “adieu.” So, this month of marvels draws to a close. “Karen of Michigan Island,” now part of a community of lighthouse keepers stretching back to 1869. How proud I am of that!

Lessons from the Island

• Lake Superior is a wilderness, too
• Humility in the face of nature’s vastness and power
• Humility in the face of responsibilities outside my comfort zone
• Seeing the trees from my porch, seeing the forest from the high tower
• The forest acts likes another sea as the zephyrs ripple over the tree tops’ surface
• No wonder eagles look so proud and fierce
• Mosquitoes can have as much determining impact on your decisions as bears
• One needs time as well as beauty
• The value of private space and time and privacy
• The chance to play a different role, with vastly different expectations
• I’ve gotten used to people doing things for me, or vastly simplifying mechanical tasks for me
• The rediscovered joy of writing (not typing)
• How quickly one’s footsteps in the sand fade away
• Though it seems at times that you’ll never get to the top of the towers, you always do, and it’s always worth the pain
• Standing 110’ feet above ground, and 200’ above the Lake, IS the right perspective for checking on storms and monitoring boat traffic, but is NOT the correct place to decide if the lawn needs mowing
• Today’s conveniences distance us from so many traditional and important ways of understanding
• It’s almost like I’m in love: my heart glows as I drive around the Chequamegon Bay and look out towards “my” Island
• The inestimable and unique value of true solitude
• The surface beauties of Lake and forest conceal deep wounds that are still trying to heal
• “Beacons in the Wilderness,” just like Northland College
• Enjoying a great and important partnership between Northland and the staff at the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore
• It takes a while for the winds that buffet the tower to produce waves on the Lake. Like changing a college, the momentum takes time to build
• I’ve remembered how to “Be Still,” and rediscovered the “Peace that Surpasseth All Understanding.”

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