Cedar Tree Institute

from Marquette Monthly December, 2008

Working the end-of-life shift

It was a late December evening thirty years ago, dark, cold, the earth as hard as iron. I was serving as parish pastor of a small congregation in Mackinac County. Shortly before midnight, I received a telephone call from one of our parishioners. Having grown up in an isolated tourist town, trapped in the crunch of a bottomed-out economy, she’d managed that winter to find a part-time job as a nurse’s aide on the night shift at our local medical facility.

There was a woman in her mid-eighties, she said, an hour or two from the edge of life, suffering from the last stages of cancer. Respectfully, she asked whether I was available to stop by. She’d called to tell me the patient was weak, barely conscious, but something puzzling was happening. My friend paused, then continued, “She’s singing. I’ve never heard anything like this. Her sister from Petoskey is with me. They’re Native Americans, Ojibway. Her sister told me it’s a death song, to help her cross over to another world.”

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from Marquette Monthly December, 2007

Leaders converge on lake topic

Canal Street is one of the jewels of Duluth’s commercial district. Located on the water’s edge of Lake Superior’s largest port city, perched on foundations of old industrial docks, it’s a glistening neighborhood of upscale art galleries, restaurants, gift shops and bookstores.

On this brisk October morning, 500 technicians, government officials, environmentalists and researchers are shuffling through registration lines at the Duluth Entertainment Convention Center. They’ve traveled from Chicago, Toronto, Ottawa, Minneapolis and dozens of universities and government agencies for the 2007 “Making a Great Lake Superior Conference.” Workshops, panel discussions, films, art displays and informal conversations shape the agenda. This is the first time since 1990 that the USEPA (United States Environmental Protection Agency) has sponsored such a gathering. There’s plenty to talk about.

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from Marquette Monthly December, 2006

The life and legacy of Frederick Baraga

Mounted on a closet door in my home office is a pair of hemlock-framed, leather-bound snowshoes. They’re more than thirty years old, purchased during my first winter serving as a parish pastor in Mackinac County. I was assured this particular style of snowshoe, made in Shingleton by the Iverson family, was used by the most experienced loggers, trappers and hunters in the Upper Midwest. There’s not a finer example of craftsmanship and durability.

In coming winter days, a younger generation of outdoor enthusiasts will trudge their way across Marquette County’s backcountry snow for recreational snowshoeing. Chances are, after an hour or two, they’ll find their way to a local coffee shop to console each other about weary legs, cold wind and the glare of sun off ice and snow. Most will be unaware they follow in the footsteps of a remarkable nineteenth century priest Frederic Baraga, who worked among the Ojibway and Ottawa Indian peoples of Northern Michigan.

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from Marquette Monthly December, 2005

Native American tale offers important lessons

Early winter nights beckon the telling of tales. Darkness falls fast during these late afternoons; descriptions of storms and snow shape daily conversations about weather. We huddle down.

It remains the custom of traditional Ojibway and most other Native peoples across this wide continent that telling of certain stories is reserved for winter months. Such liturgical seasons are similarly revered in many of the world’s oldest religions.

Most of these winter stories hold entertainment value, but they also unfold, for the discerning listener, secrets about living lives of integrity, courage and meaning. Karen Armstrong, a former nun and contemporary English writer, puts it more eloquently. The telling of a good story, she said, “like a work of art, invades our being and changes it forever. It’s a transcendent encounter that tells us, in effect: ‘Change your life.’ ”

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from Marquette Monthly December, 2004

The plight of replanting wild rice in the Upper Peninsula

I remember it clearly. My heart jumped. I was dozing off during an environmental conference, sponsored by the Lake Superior Binational Forum, on the Bad River Reservation ten miles east of Ashland. Down the hall you could hear the low jingle from the casino.

We were listening to presentations on environmental restoration efforts in the Lake Superior Basin. A particular series of aerial photographs struck me. I will never forget them. A soft-spoken tribal representative was reviewing their wild rice (Manoomin in the Ojibwe language) seeding project. He framed his presentation with a projection of 35mm slides showing contrasting seasonal photographs of large, expansive wetlands.

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from Marquette Monthly December, 2003

The art of mindfulness: spirituality & landscape

“I have arrived. I am home. I am here. Now.” — Thich Nhat Hnah

It’s late afternoon. I’m 10,000 feet above Lake Superior in a cramped twenty-seat Fairchild Turbo Prop headed from Sault Ste Marie to Thunder Bay (Ontario). There are only a few of us on board: a middle-aged woman of Cree or Ojibway descent, a government official, a couple of engineers. The shadowed edge of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is fading from view, framed by a sunset tinged with streaks of gold. Below us, I see snow has fallen on the distant coastline. Outside the air is bitter, icy cold.

I am looking forward to the next few days. Coming up is a weekend meeting of the Lake Superior Binational Forum, a small citizen’s advisory group that meets a few times each year to make recommendations to the Canadian and United States governments on policies designed to protect the Lake environment.

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