Letters

Letters 10-27-2014

Paging Doctor Dan: The doctor’s promise to repeal Obamacare reminds me of the frantic restaurant owner hurrying to install an exhaust fan after the kitchen burns down. He voted 51 times to replace the ACA law; a colossal waste of money and time. It’s here to stay and he has nothing to replace it.

Evolution Is Real Science: Breathtaking inanity. That was the term used by Judge John Jones III in his elegant evisceration of creationist arguments attempting to equate it to evolutionary theory in his landmark Kitzmiller vs. Dover Board of Education decision in 2005.

U.S. No Global Police: Steven Tuttle in the October 13 issue is correct: our military, under the leadership of the President (not the Congress) is charged with protecting the country, its citizens, and its borders. It is not charged with  performing military missions in other places in the world just because they have something we want (oil), or we don’t like their form of government, or we want to force them to live by the UN or our rules.

Graffiti: Art Or Vandalism?: I walk the [Grand Traverse] Commons frequently and sometimes I include the loop up to the cistern just to go and see how the art on the cistern has evolved. Granted there is the occasional gross image or word but generally there is a flurry of color.

NMEAC Snubbed: Northern Michigan Environmental Action Council (NMEAC) is the Grand Traverse region’s oldest grassroots environmental advocacy organization. Preserving the environment through citizen action and education is our mission.

Vote, Everyone: Election Day on November 4 is fast approaching, and now is the time to make a commitment to vote. You may be getting sick of the political ads on TV, but instead, be grateful that you live in a free country with open elections. Take the time to learn about the candidates by contacting your county parties and doing research.

Do Fluoride Research: Hydrofluorosilicic acid, H2SiF6, is a byproduct from the production of fertilizer. This liquid, not environmentally safe, is scrubbed from the chimney of the fertilizer plant, put into containers, and shipped. Now it is a ‘product’ added to the public drinking water.

Meet The Homeless: As someone who volunteers for a Traverse City organization that works with homeless people, I am appalled at what is happening at the meetings regarding the homeless shelter. The people fighting this shelter need to get to know some homeless families. They have the wrong idea about who the homeless are.

Home · Articles · News · Books · Our Secret Garden
. . . .

Our Secret Garden

Robert Downes - November 9th, 2006
No one gets to the heart of Northern Michigan’s great outdoors like Jim McIntyre, who knows how to weave a spellbinding tale and has the theatrical skills and know-how to bring it to life.
Those skills come to bear in “Our Secret Garden,” a new spoken-word CD which tells of Jim’s many seasons hunting amid the fields and forests of remote Garden Island in Lake Michigan. The centerpiece of the four stories on this disc is the tale of a hunter killed on the island -- “taken out of season long before his time” -- an inconceivable death, given the island’s faraway, seemingly peaceful location.
McIntyre is executive vice president of Knorr Marketing in Traverse City, which is celebrating its 20th anniversary this month. He’s well known to TV viewers across the region for the humorous slice-of-life commercials the agency has produced through the years in which he stars as a male chauvinist husband who banters with his wife on behalf of local products and services.
This is McIntyre’s second venture in the spoken word genre. Several years ago, he released “Minnow Al,” about a gruff, rustic character met on hunting trips in northern Ontario. Exceptionally literate and written with the lean economy of the wild itself, his stories capture the essence of the hunting and fishing experience in words that are carefully weighed and measured for the images they invoke.
In “Our Secret Garden,” he takes us back to the days of his youth and how he was introduced to hunting. For hunters, McIntyre’s story of bagging his first buck at the age of 19 is sure to invoke a trip down memory lane. So too is his tale of nailing his biggest buck ever: a 205 lb., eight-point giant on Garden Island in 1980. “Without doubt the finest specimen I’d ever seen.” Non-hunters will get a glimpse over his shoulder into the thrill of the outdoor life, sparked each November 15th on “St. Antler’s Day.”
McIntyre eases into his story by unrolling his years on the hunt: When the hunting action gets too crowded on mainland Michigan, he and some friends explore the lonely trails and mysteries of Garden Island, a small stretch of land just north of Beaver Island. Over the course of 26 years, the island refuge becomes the “secret” of the title of his work, jealously guarded by the few hunters who venture there each November.
These are men who love the island and tend its trails, slowly growing to know each other through the years, living in their separate deer camps.
“The men who hunt Garden Island have a bond that exists among them,” McIntyre recounts. “It isn’t something that we speak of, but I know it exists. All are skilled hunters, all have a deep respect for the animals that we pursue; all have a reverence for the island, its history and its future. It’s not an easy trip; the waters of Lake Michigan can be treacherous and cold in November. The weather can be miserable, cold rain, snow, subfreezing temperatures, dangerous winds. We sleep in tents on cots and cook on charcoal. There are no roads, no restaurants, no bars, no showers. And until just recently, no communication.”
The island becomes a metaphor for something that endures in the hunters’ lives -- a yearly rendezvous that carries on over 26 years when all else seems lost: “Individually we divorced, changed careers, moved, married; lived through heart attacks, surgeries, plane crashes and broken hearts. We laughed so hard we cried, and sometimes we just cried. Our campfire conversations reflected our circumstances at the times. Sometimes we shared secrets that we brought with us like excess baggage. We unpacked it -- sometimes we left it there -- sometimes we took it back with us.”
On opening day of 2000, McIntyre was sitting in his deer blind when he heard
a Coast Guard helicopter landing. At
first, he thought that someone had suffered a heart attack. “It never occurred to us that someone had been shot -- not these hunters.”
A few hours later, the helicopter came back with a sheriff. Retired Detroit firefighter Jerry Byers had been shot, never to hunt the island again.
McIntyre wraps up his story with the aftermath and how the camp at the ‘Secret Garden’ fell apart. But it’s not the ending that’s most satisfying in his story -- it’s the journey there. McIntyre has a poet’s appreciation for the written word and a gifted storyteller’s skill in weaving a spell. He’s done a great, rare thing, adding a sense of literature to nonfiction in the tradition of journalists Sebastian Junger or Jon Krakauer.
You can feel your heart rise and fall with the rhythm of his words in a story that brings you to the shores of a remote, wild island. His story brings Garden Island to life.
 
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