by James Bates
black coffee
The huge iron ore freighter was thirty miles out when
Jerry Jorgenson saw it appear on the horizon, barely visible, a tiny spec. He
pulled down his seed company cap to shade his eyes, and used his binoculars to
watch as the ship slowly made its way toward where he was standing, close to the
shipping canal between Lake Superior and the Port of Duluth. They say that death
and taxes were what you could always count on. Well, to that you could add the
Mesabi Miner, thought Jerry, as he watched the huge vessel's slow but steady
progress. The freighter had been carrying iron ore back and forth across all of
five of the great lakes for seventy-three years, Jerry's entire life. It was as
dependable as the day was long, was how he looked at it.
It took nearly two hours for
the ship to make the journey, and as it approached the entrance to the canal it
began slowing down, making ready to leave the lake. By now Jerry was surrounded
by a boisterous crowd of men, women and children from all walks of life.
Everyone was excited and the festive atmosphere blended in perfectly with the
bright sun and warm sand and raucous seagulls. The huge vessel was so close he
could almost reach out and touch it's riveted steel immensity: one-thousand feet
long, one-hundred feet wide and over fifty feet deep. It was fully laden with
nearly eighty-thousand tons of iron ore, and it gave him a thrill beyond words
to be standing so close to it.
The wheel house was
seventy-five feet above the water. Unexpectedly, a figure appeared at the small
window, leaned out and saluted good naturedly to those gathered below. It was
the captain. The crowd called out and waved back excitedly. Not Jerry. He wasn't
what you'd call a demonstrative person by any stretch of the imagination.
Instead, he watched closely as the captain doffed his cap, expecting to see a
grizzled and weathered seaman. But that's not what he got. He did a double take,
and then had to raise his binoculars to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving
him. They weren't. It wasn't a man who was doffing a cap and commanding his
beloved freighter. It was a woman. And, even more remarkable, she wasn't even
very old. He was stunned beyond belief. What was going on? Was this a sick joke
of some kind? What had happened to manly tradition and the stoically competent
seafarers who were supposed to be safely guiding the huge iron ore freighters
across the always treacherous Great Lakes? More to the point, what was this
woman doing on what he always thought of as his ship?
Jerry could not accept what he
was seeing. It made him almost physically ill. Then as if to add insult to
injury, the captain (That woman!) shook her head and set free long tresses of
blond Scandinavian hair that shown in the sun like the finest imported satin.
Her tanned face broke into a big smile as she gave the jovial crowd an impish
wink and waved enthusiastically to them.
Jerry was aghast. She's going
to smash that ship, that's what she's going to do, he thought to himself. I'll
bet my pension check from the steel workers union that she's going to sink the
Mesabi Miner to the bottom of the canal. Then they'll be sorry. Everybody knows
that only men have the knowledge and skill necessary to make it through that
narrow passageway and into the port beyond. He folded his arms tightly across
his chest in a huff, as if challenging her to fail. Then he watched and waited,
expecting the worst.
If the young captain could
sense Jerry's skepticism, she didn't let on. Undaunted, she turned seriously to
the task at hand and, like thread through a needle's eye, she cool handedly
guided Jerry's beloved iron ore freighter through the narrow canal into the safe
harbor beyond, completing the Mesabi Miner's journey by tooting it's horn three
times. The crowd erupted as one and began wildly cheering. Not Jerry. He turned
away in disgust, the roar in his ears almost too much to bear.
He took two fast steps, and in
his haste to get away almost knocked over a young girl about ten years old
wearing a Minnesota Twins baseball hat. As he sidestepped her it occurred to him
that his own granddaughter was about the same age. She was a delight to be
around and was already an accomplished hockey player. It dawned on him that her
mom, Jerry's daughter, was about the same as the ship's captain. She not only
was a wonderful mother, but also a highly respected veterinarian. Damn. It was a
pain in the ass to do so, but he had to admit that the world he used to know was
changing. Sometimes too fast for him, but it was.
He quickly
apologized to the young girl who smiled and said cheerfully, "That's okay,
mister."
He took a few steps and then
stopped and thought to himself, Hell, that lady captain actually did do a good
job steering the freighter through the shipping canal, way better than I could
have anyway. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly as the realization hit him.
Yeah, she really was pretty good.
He straightened up tall, having
made what was for him a momentous decision. He turned and gave the departing
vessel as snappy salute. Then he begrudgingly joined in with the crowd and began
applauding.
About the author
Jim
lives in a small town three hours south of the shores of beautiful Lake
Superior. As much as he loves to go there, he doesn't get there nearly as often
as he'd like. More of his stories can be found at: www.theviewfromlonglake.wordpress.com
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