The Briefcase in Blueberry Inlet

Look carefully at the photo. Can you spot a leather briefcase above the left side of the big rock? The case belonged to my dad. Last week I brought it "home" to Canada a few days shy of what would have been his hundreth birthday. I placed the well-used case in one of my dad's favorite places on Lake of the Woods.

My dad passed away five years ago, but I haven't been able to part with his briefcase. The briefcase was always close to him, often open. It was filled with plenty of freshly sharpened pencils, vitamins, paper clips, but mostly letters and papers scribbled with his ideas. The briefcase was given to dad in 1977. A metal plate inside the case is inscribed with his name and the date. Dad never liked to replace anything unless the old one totally wore out. He used this case for almost thirty years.

For the last few years of his life, the case sat on a chair in the apartment Dad shared with my mother at their senior residence. When Dad was well enough to leave the nursing care area and spend time in the apartment he liked to work on his papers. After he died, the case sat on the same chair until my mother passed away four years later. It was as if the case was simply waiting for him to return.

For the past five years the briefcase has rested at my house. Nobody in the family really wanted it with its broken side, worn and stained leather, rusted hardware. But I couldn't bear to just throw it in the trash. And then I found a photo of my dad sitting on an island in Canada at lunch time with his briefcase open on a rock. I knew then that an island on Lake of the Woods would be the last best place for this iconic remnant of my dad's life.

We've come upon other memorials out on the lake like inukshuks, placques nailed to trees, trinkets placed on rocks. I don't want to litter, but believe the old leather will disintegrate in time until only small pieces of metal remain. And those will soon be covered with a carpet of moss and pine needles.

So, on a perfect summer day with an eagle leading the way, we headed down the sun-sparkled waters of the Sunset Channel, took a right at Beacon Island and headed into Blueberry Inlet. It's a magical place off the beaten path of most fishing boats. Some years it's only accessible by canoe. Dad loved to come to this inlet in early June and cast against the shoreline for bass and walleye.

Ancient rock walls line the narrow entrance. The bays are calm and quiet. Time almost stands still in these pristene waters. That old Dan Fogelberg song, Longer Than, drifted thru my mind. Stronger than any mountain cathedral. Deeper than any forest primeval.  No church I've ever been in can compare with the Cathedral of Blueberry Inlet.

A pair of loons watched as Greg clambered up a boulder to gently tuck the briefcase between two trees. I felt a deep sense of peace. I don't enjoy catching fish the same way my dad did, but I can think of no better way to spend precious summer days than in the quiet beauty of Lake of the Woods. God feels close in Blueberry Inlet. The world feels right again there.

Sometimes saying goodbye is a very long journey.                                             

July 15, 2011