Sault Sainte Marie
Edit : Wrote in 2020, woops!
(A piece I wrote in 2020, I hope you enjoy!)
“North is the time of our elders, our old people. It is a time of wisdom, so much like the answers found in our dreams. It represents the night, as a time called midnight, and a time called winter when things are as unpredictable as our dreams. The north is representative of those things that are positive, a time of snow and purity.
The bear received the gift of courage and strength from G’tchi Manitou. Another of the Anishinaabeg clans, the bear is representative of all medicine powers in creation. Claws dig medicine roots. Bear passes knowledge on through dreams, visions.
White symbolizes spirituality. We give thanks to our northern grandfather.”
--
Anishinaabeg Tribal Flag, The Sault Tribe of Chippewa Indians
When I was a child, my beliefs were staunchly in the realm of Fundamental Christianity. Honestly, it wasn’t like the campfire stories of ghosts and things that go “bump in the night” weren’t necessarily outlawed; it was just that we had to look at it in the context of Good versus Evil, God versus Satan. There just wasn’t any room in my worldview to take supernatural stories seriously.
One of my earliest, and fondest memories, of dealing with the “supernatural” had to do with UFOs. Reader, unless you have lived in a cave for the last hundred years, you probably already know of UFOs and the ever persistent hunt to prove that every sighting of these unidentified flying objects are “most definitely this time I promise you” actually alien spacecraft. My youthful imagination was fueled with satellite television exposes of witnesses presenting dubious yet fanciful claims and of course Hollywood classics of a certain extra-terrestrial.
So with those thoughts pre-occupying my mind, I found myself one winter evening splitting wood for the furnace. I actually found myself doing this often because I enjoyed the opportunity it lent for me to take time to admire the beauty of the stars and our moon. As I took a quick breath and said a short greeting to my lunar neighbor, I began to notice a regular interval of light taking over the sky, receding, and taking over again. Immediately I found myself transported to many a scene of similar effect in classic alien movies.
I must give my father credit for allowing my imagination to flourish for the sake of adventure, even though in hindsight I had my suspicions that he knew what was going on. We jumped into our red box shaped wonder van and drove into the forested night; periodically looking into the night sky to gauge our success. Eventually and to my dismay, the adventure ended all too soon with the anti-climatic realization that the mystery lighting was just that of a casino strobe light.
I think a part of my wonder and awe for the world and its many mysteries died that night. It didn’t take much comparison and absent minded thought to bridge discussions of ghosts, UFOs, Santa Claus, and God to come to the conclusion that it was all just made up to make our boring lives just a little less boring. For me personally though, it felt like I was lied to.
I originally lost my faith in my religious upbringing due to almost comical levels of mainstream angst; a dissatisfaction for concrete evidence in God, a rebellious need to go the opposite direction of my parents, and the allure of those things which my specific sect did not allow. It was this fascination in the forbidden that eventually allowed me to consider the existence of the “otherworldly” and things of spiritual nature. And with every experiment and every moment of suspending my disbelief, I left only feeling cheated at best and lied to at worse. Every religion felt like a con, every supernatural story an exercise in hyperbole.
One night, all that changed and my understanding of the world was shattered.
--
It was my freshman year of college and I just could not concentrate on my studies at all. Like a cat in it’s carrier, I felt cooped up for way too long. I needed some fresh air and my favorite hobby at the time was taking long walks though downtown Sault Sainte Marie during the night.
In the summer and early fall season, Sault Sainte Marie was a beautiful city full of life as tourists walked its famous locks and various venues. As a child I found what I called the “tourist stretch” to be equal parts intoxicating and magical. During the day, many shops sold exciting novelties and delicious treats, while local musicians played and the big ocean freighters would sound their horns. As a young adult, I discovered the joy of walking the same path in the amber hues of the sidewalk lights, listening to the laughter of patrons while a mix of exotic smells escaped the various “hole-in-a-wall” establishments. I loved this ancient city, who’s founding in 1668, somehow eluded me for most of my life, in spite of its large sign which read “Welcome to Sault Sainte Marie Since 1668”.
These days though, the “tourist stretch” was more and more of a ghost town during the winter months. I think that was my favorite part about living in Sault Sainte Marie, a feeling of being completely alone while being surrounded by the antithesis of hermitude. I admired this beautiful paradox while putting on my winter gear; the snowfall was slow but steady with no sign of stopping.
My usual route for these late night walks always started with going down Easterday Avenue past the steep downhill, a left turn onto Ashmun Street across the canal bridge, another left turn onto the West Portage Avenue (the beautiful tourist stretch of my youth), and a small detour through residential roads back up to campus. As I reached the end of Easterday hill, I noticed what appeared to be a brown bear head down a side road.
While it wasn’t uncommon to come across some wildlife in town, it was usually only deer, rabbits, or the occasional stray pet. Seeing a bear was something more unusual. Like the first victim in any good horror cliche’, I decided to follow the bear against my better judgement. Maybe I was just seeing some sort of snow induced mirage. Something about this encounter was strange though. No paw prints were left in the snow and it wasn’t late enough for the city to be void of all human presence; yet neither could be found. After a few minutes I abandoned my curiosity and returned to my normal route. The snow was coming down harder but I was bundled well enough in my clothing and I could see well enough.
The Ashmun Street bridge over the city’s energy canal wasn’t necessarily famous but I had a certain affinity to its tan colored steel and fancy concrete wall adornments on each end. Often I would find myself standing at the center point where I could best see the deep foreboding canal proper. I had heard a few urban legends of people who had jumped from the bridge for suicidal or idiotic reasons, only to be swept quickly into the electric company’s turbines.
Now having traversed the bridge, the snow fall had become thick and I could only see a few yards ahead of me. I considered for a moment to turn around but my eye caught the familiar silhouette ahead of me. Again, without thought or concern, I approached. Obscurity led to familiarity as I noticed the bear’s features. This time it was staring at me, staring into my soul. I didn’t understand why, but it seemed full of sorrow. The bear turned away and walked back into the snowfall.
Again and again, I would walk forward until I saw the bear, only to be left by it. I felt like it was guiding me somewhere. This wasn’t a normal bear and I did not know its purpose.
The last time I saw the bear, I had left one of the residential areas expecting to be on the main road. Instead, I found myself in the middle of a clearing, with the snowfall not as heavy. In the middle of the clearing was a building sized hole in the ground and on the other side was the bear looking straight at me.
It stuck its paw out toward me, motioning to the hole.
“Who are you?” I asked, knowing that there was more going on than what my eyes perceived.
The bear was silent, still holding its paw out to the hole, still looking at me sorrowfully.
I came closer and peered into it. The hole wasn’t shallow but instead was a gaping chasm with no bottom in sight. I grew dizzy and fell forward into the snow.
“Was this it?” I thought to myself. Was this the end of my life and the bear it’s specter of death? I did not want to die, I did not want to become consumed by this chasm.
Reaching down to brace myself, the hole was gone. In relief, I flipped over onto my back to see the bear sitting next to me, holding its paw out. It was like it was pointing to my chest. It was then that I noticed the chasm was within me, a deep and dark wound.
--
I woke up in my dorm room, breathing hard and sweat on my brow. In a bit of a panic, I checked my chest to see if I was all there and was relieved to find nothing abnormal. I washed my face and thought to myself “Did any of that happen?”
As nonchalant as I could, I asked my dorm mates about when I returned last night, but all of them agreed that I didn’t go anywhere and that I had gone to bed early. I also found out that there wasn’t a snow storm and nowhere in the news or local gossip was there a talk of a bear.
I was tempted to think of it as a dream but I still to this day see the bear out of the corner of my vision, watching me with its sad eyes.
(A piece I wrote in 2020, I hope you enjoy!)
“North is the time of our elders, our old people. It is a time of wisdom, so much like the answers found in our dreams. It represents the night, as a time called midnight, and a time called winter when things are as unpredictable as our dreams. The north is representative of those things that are positive, a time of snow and purity.
The bear received the gift of courage and strength from G’tchi Manitou. Another of the Anishinaabeg clans, the bear is representative of all medicine powers in creation. Claws dig medicine roots. Bear passes knowledge on through dreams, visions.
White symbolizes spirituality. We give thanks to our northern grandfather.”
--
Anishinaabeg Tribal Flag, The Sault Tribe of Chippewa Indians
When I was a child, my beliefs were staunchly in the realm of Fundamental Christianity. Honestly, it wasn’t like the campfire stories of ghosts and things that go “bump in the night” weren’t necessarily outlawed; it was just that we had to look at it in the context of Good versus Evil, God versus Satan. There just wasn’t any room in my worldview to take supernatural stories seriously.
One of my earliest, and fondest memories, of dealing with the “supernatural” had to do with UFOs. Reader, unless you have lived in a cave for the last hundred years, you probably already know of UFOs and the ever persistent hunt to prove that every sighting of these unidentified flying objects are “most definitely this time I promise you” actually alien spacecraft. My youthful imagination was fueled with satellite television exposes of witnesses presenting dubious yet fanciful claims and of course Hollywood classics of a certain extra-terrestrial.
So with those thoughts pre-occupying my mind, I found myself one winter evening splitting wood for the furnace. I actually found myself doing this often because I enjoyed the opportunity it lent for me to take time to admire the beauty of the stars and our moon. As I took a quick breath and said a short greeting to my lunar neighbor, I began to notice a regular interval of light taking over the sky, receding, and taking over again. Immediately I found myself transported to many a scene of similar effect in classic alien movies.
I must give my father credit for allowing my imagination to flourish for the sake of adventure, even though in hindsight I had my suspicions that he knew what was going on. We jumped into our red box shaped wonder van and drove into the forested night; periodically looking into the night sky to gauge our success. Eventually and to my dismay, the adventure ended all too soon with the anti-climatic realization that the mystery lighting was just that of a casino strobe light.
I think a part of my wonder and awe for the world and its many mysteries died that night. It didn’t take much comparison and absent minded thought to bridge discussions of ghosts, UFOs, Santa Claus, and God to come to the conclusion that it was all just made up to make our boring lives just a little less boring. For me personally though, it felt like I was lied to.
I originally lost my faith in my religious upbringing due to almost comical levels of mainstream angst; a dissatisfaction for concrete evidence in God, a rebellious need to go the opposite direction of my parents, and the allure of those things which my specific sect did not allow. It was this fascination in the forbidden that eventually allowed me to consider the existence of the “otherworldly” and things of spiritual nature. And with every experiment and every moment of suspending my disbelief, I left only feeling cheated at best and lied to at worse. Every religion felt like a con, every supernatural story an exercise in hyperbole.
One night, all that changed and my understanding of the world was shattered.
--
It was my freshman year of college and I just could not concentrate on my studies at all. Like a cat in it’s carrier, I felt cooped up for way too long. I needed some fresh air and my favorite hobby at the time was taking long walks though downtown Sault Sainte Marie during the night.
In the summer and early fall season, Sault Sainte Marie was a beautiful city full of life as tourists walked its famous locks and various venues. As a child I found what I called the “tourist stretch” to be equal parts intoxicating and magical. During the day, many shops sold exciting novelties and delicious treats, while local musicians played and the big ocean freighters would sound their horns. As a young adult, I discovered the joy of walking the same path in the amber hues of the sidewalk lights, listening to the laughter of patrons while a mix of exotic smells escaped the various “hole-in-a-wall” establishments. I loved this ancient city, who’s founding in 1668, somehow eluded me for most of my life, in spite of its large sign which read “Welcome to Sault Sainte Marie Since 1668”.
These days though, the “tourist stretch” was more and more of a ghost town during the winter months. I think that was my favorite part about living in Sault Sainte Marie, a feeling of being completely alone while being surrounded by the antithesis of hermitude. I admired this beautiful paradox while putting on my winter gear; the snowfall was slow but steady with no sign of stopping.
My usual route for these late night walks always started with going down Easterday Avenue past the steep downhill, a left turn onto Ashmun Street across the canal bridge, another left turn onto the West Portage Avenue (the beautiful tourist stretch of my youth), and a small detour through residential roads back up to campus. As I reached the end of Easterday hill, I noticed what appeared to be a brown bear head down a side road.
While it wasn’t uncommon to come across some wildlife in town, it was usually only deer, rabbits, or the occasional stray pet. Seeing a bear was something more unusual. Like the first victim in any good horror cliche’, I decided to follow the bear against my better judgement. Maybe I was just seeing some sort of snow induced mirage. Something about this encounter was strange though. No paw prints were left in the snow and it wasn’t late enough for the city to be void of all human presence; yet neither could be found. After a few minutes I abandoned my curiosity and returned to my normal route. The snow was coming down harder but I was bundled well enough in my clothing and I could see well enough.
The Ashmun Street bridge over the city’s energy canal wasn’t necessarily famous but I had a certain affinity to its tan colored steel and fancy concrete wall adornments on each end. Often I would find myself standing at the center point where I could best see the deep foreboding canal proper. I had heard a few urban legends of people who had jumped from the bridge for suicidal or idiotic reasons, only to be swept quickly into the electric company’s turbines.
Now having traversed the bridge, the snow fall had become thick and I could only see a few yards ahead of me. I considered for a moment to turn around but my eye caught the familiar silhouette ahead of me. Again, without thought or concern, I approached. Obscurity led to familiarity as I noticed the bear’s features. This time it was staring at me, staring into my soul. I didn’t understand why, but it seemed full of sorrow. The bear turned away and walked back into the snowfall.
Again and again, I would walk forward until I saw the bear, only to be left by it. I felt like it was guiding me somewhere. This wasn’t a normal bear and I did not know its purpose.
The last time I saw the bear, I had left one of the residential areas expecting to be on the main road. Instead, I found myself in the middle of a clearing, with the snowfall not as heavy. In the middle of the clearing was a building sized hole in the ground and on the other side was the bear looking straight at me.
It stuck its paw out toward me, motioning to the hole.
“Who are you?” I asked, knowing that there was more going on than what my eyes perceived.
The bear was silent, still holding its paw out to the hole, still looking at me sorrowfully.
I came closer and peered into it. The hole wasn’t shallow but instead was a gaping chasm with no bottom in sight. I grew dizzy and fell forward into the snow.
“Was this it?” I thought to myself. Was this the end of my life and the bear it’s specter of death? I did not want to die, I did not want to become consumed by this chasm.
Reaching down to brace myself, the hole was gone. In relief, I flipped over onto my back to see the bear sitting next to me, holding its paw out. It was like it was pointing to my chest. It was then that I noticed the chasm was within me, a deep and dark wound.
--
I woke up in my dorm room, breathing hard and sweat on my brow. In a bit of a panic, I checked my chest to see if I was all there and was relieved to find nothing abnormal. I washed my face and thought to myself “Did any of that happen?”
As nonchalant as I could, I asked my dorm mates about when I returned last night, but all of them agreed that I didn’t go anywhere and that I had gone to bed early. I also found out that there wasn’t a snow storm and nowhere in the news or local gossip was there a talk of a bear.
I was tempted to think of it as a dream but I still to this day see the bear out of the corner of my vision, watching me with its sad eyes.
