One of my [late] brother’s many talents was to be able to BURP the word Tregurtha. Yes, he had a raunchy sense of humor. It runs in the family, although my own sense of humor is probably better described as “wry”. The Paul Tregurtha is the longest Great Lakes freighter at 1013.5 feet. It launched in 1981 and I have watched it go up and down the upper St. Marys River many a time.

Today, we tried out a very popular eastern yooperland restaurant albeit one we have never eaten at. The Cozy Corners (not to be confused with the Cozy Inn in Brimley) is on the lower St. Marys River, just a wee bit north of the Neebish Island ferry and this is what we were greeted with as we approached. Needless to say. we approached with care🤪

The Cozy Corners did not disappoint. I had the cozy wrap (grilled chicken with feta and dried cherries and I fergit what else). The staff was very friendly and they ring a big bell whenever a freighter is about to pass by. All in all it was a great time and we’ll be back.

Well, it was great except for the Trumper sitting next to us. We are in a deep red area and we chose to sit at the bar so you get what you get. This character had Trump written all over him. He opened with a couple dirty jokes. Those don’t bother me and he was also polite enough to make sure I (and the waitress) wouldn’t be offended.

After the jokes, the conversation rambled on and when he said, “I like that Trump,” I CLAMPED my mouth shut. His reasoning (like so many misguided folks in our country) was “he’s not a politician, he’s a businessman.” My silent response? “He’s not a businessman, he’s a MIDGET!” I’m paraphrasing something the Mean Old Grunchie Old Grinchie said a bazillion years ago while ranting and raving about somebody he was forced to work with, “He’s not a dry-waller, he’s a MIDGET!” His sister and I (I am their cousin) were speechless!

Whatever. I will NOT get into an argument over Trump in a yooperland bar. I don’t even bother getting into arguments with the Trumpers I know, love (and live with😵‍💫). And who knows whether my brother would’ve been a Trumper or not. He could sometimes be led astray. When I was in high school, The Commander once enlisted my help in case a certain Christian shirt-tail relative came to call. “Will you be home this afternoon?” “Yes, moom, I will be.” She knew my presence would scare this kid off. I do not and will not ever understand why people believe the crapola that spews out of Trump’s mouth and keyboard.

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