I grew up hearing that song and can likely recite most of it. Guess that's from growing up in the 70's.
The words of that song are haunting. Growing up in California and being near the ocean, it was hard for me to comprehend a ship of that size being destroyed on a fresh water lake. My mom and dad, who grew up outside Toronto and near the Great Lakes used to tell me about the violent storms that could blow up out there and how they used to see very big waves crashing ashore.
Growing up around boats had a big impact on my life. At 22, and part way through college, I realized I had no plan for my life. I went down after school and work one afternoon and enlisted in the U. S. Coast Guard. I was stationed on an ocean going buoy tender out of Kodiak, Alaska. Our operation area was west of Kodiak, along the Aleutian Islands and up in the Bering Sea as far as the ice.
Spending time up there on a 180 foot long ship helped me realize what that night on Lake Superior must have been like for those guys. I've experienced seas that towered over the bridge, seeing the entire front 75 feet of the ship completely submerged under water as we plowed bow first into a wave. I've walked along the bulkheads because we were heeled over so far in rough seas. What those guys must have go through out there on that night must have been frightening, to say the least. Being at sea for a living is dangerous work. We fool ourselves into thinking we are in control and masters of our environment. Being out in a bad storm in a ship makes you realize that in the order of things, we are tiny specks on the face of this earth.
My heart goes out to the "wives and the sons and the daughters" that were left behind. To loose a family member at sea (or a lake) and never recover the remains is a terrible thing for a family to go through. I'm sure they are still scarred by this.
Thanks for posting this, it's good to remember these sorts of things.
