My First Tattoo

I used to clean up nasty mud. The muck at the bottom of a river or lake that was so chalked full of chemicals it was too dangerous to be left alone. It wasn't sexy, but it was my job and I was passionate about it. My focus was on the Great Lakes and the rivers feeding them.

My first big project was the clean up of chemicals at the bottom of the Manistique River and Harbor located in Manistique, Michigan - a small mill town in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Getting to "clean-up" took a few exhausting years of shear determination by me and a host of others.

At this point in my life, Manistique was my vision quest - it was a journey of will. The clean up involved giant cranes, mining devices, divers, planes, helicopters, barges, boats, and dozens of crews. It was basically a construction operation on steroids. I led it for a period of time - especially during the fall of 1996.

I was a young guy with little experience managing lots of people let alone a massive clean-up that would reach a budget of $60 million. I made plenty of mistakes, but learned quickly. It was real stressful. The one thing that helped me decompress at night was a CD collection of folk music . I was getting into folk music because I was taking guitar lessons back in Chicago at the Old Town School of Folk Music - a well known hub of folk talent.

While "on-site" in the cold rugged terrain of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, I'd rent a small A-frame cabin in the woods on a lake instead of staying in a hotel - it was cheaper and far more homey. I remember cold autumn nights getting home, starting a fire and making dinner listening to a CD called "Sunday Morning Sessions"- a fine collection of folk songs and singers. If you find it, buy it.

This collection helped me get through a hard lonely time. One song stands out in my memory called "This Warm House" by Larry Barrett. I was listening to it today. It brought back the cold, the stress and the satisfaction of pursuing something you believe is worth giving everything you have. It was a good memory. It reminded me of how it felt to believe my effort helped leave a good mark on the planet. I think of Manistique as my first tattoo because in return, it left a permanent mark on me.

Funny, exactly one year later, Manistique became the place where my girlfriend (now wife) visited me to spend our first weekend together as a couple. She's from Venezuela and in her adorable thick accent, she would call me "Her Man from Manistique".