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Updated: Mar 4

*photo 2024 by Matt Mead



I remember the sloop Jenny/Ann

The best of the fleet on the deep lake,

The Ojibwe called Michigami.

When the bag-lake exploded one gale-sultry day.

The day Jenny-Ann met her fate.

Michigami rules the Great Lakes

From it’s depths to the top

Of it’s sun-baked dunes.

The sloop Jenny-Ann was destiny struck,

In 1872, when the big lake

Called her November number.

The sloop they say,

Built better than most

Was better than

Michigami could muster

But like her sister, Gitchigumee,

Neither lake gives quarter

To those that dare venture


No one really knew,


Nor how many souls were taken

Plus two,

From captain, passengers and crew

Who knew? Who knew

Michigami would snatch up two.

That ominous fate-filled,

Storm-driven day.

So utter a prayer,

‘Pon passing the Jenny

And in reverence

Don’t dare lay a hand

On the skeletal ribs

That lay half-buried in shore-sand

In reverence to the remains of that fateful Fall.

When Michigami came a calling.

tom tenbrunsel

A Carl Sandburg Writer

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