The Mailman
A Poem for Sonny
I had heard of the passing of Edward ”Sonny”Anderson and it stirred memories of when he would cross the lake from Rabbit Point to Snake Island to get the mail. We would hear the sound of his motor, a 25 horse Johnson , I believe, approaching the lighthouse at Black Bear Island. Dad would go to look and tell us, “It’s Sonny going for the mail.” Dad would always watch to see he kept safe. He was a bit older than my brothers so I only knew him as The Rabbit Point Mailman.
~ Patrick, Black Bear Island
The Mailman
We used to watch him crossing
From the cliffs of the Black Bear Light
He came from Princess Harbour
faced the Lake’s foul rage and might
A tall blond man standing in the stern
Of a Lake built wooden yawl
He’d ride into the tempest
Of Muddy Water’s angry squall
Mail may seem a minor thing
In today’s fast gratification
But way back then in our chldhood days
It was our only communication
He’d climb the whitecap rollers
We could see him rise and fall
A calm sea would let him travel fast
But the wind forced a deadly crawl
The seven miles of winter
Miles of ice and wind and snow
Still the mailman made the crossing
While howling North winds blow
He has made the final crossing
He will ride the waves no more
Yet we old men will remember him
Part of the lakemen’s lore