loading . . . Guest Blog: Faith Currie - Global Maritime History Faith Currie is the Lead Museum Educator at the National Museum of the Great Lakes where sheâll be one of several knowledgeable and engaging guides of SS Edmund Fitzgerald specialty tours honoring and remembering the 50th Anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, she is a regular contributor to the quarterly journal Inland Seas, she is a certified nature journaling educator through the Wild Wonder Foundation, and an artist with public art in the city of Toledo. Currie is also the host of the Sunday night radio program The Great Lakes St. Lawrence Story System on WAKT community radio in Toledo. âCompared with the usual fate of humans, we who are engaged in preservation work, daily in contact with what we most like and admire, are fortunate indeed.â âFreeman Tilden, Interpreting Our Heritage I am âfortunate indeedâ that my work days revolve around things that are fundamental to meâthe Great Lakes and the myriad bodies of water, fields, forests, flora and fauna around and between them. And, that I have the native Rust Belterâs nostalgic pride in industry, and intrinsic appreciation for the utilitarian. I have been on the historic lake freighter I work on around 200 times and I have never not been impressed the moment I stepped on deck. In his 1957 classic âInterpreting Our Heritage,â Freeman Tilden endeavored to define interpretation, thus: For dictionary purposes to fill a hiatus that urgently needs to be remedied, I am prepared to define the function called interpretation, by the National Park Service, by state and municipal parks, by museums and similar cultural institutions as follows: An educational activity which aims to reveal meanings and relationships through the use of original objects, by firsthand experience, and by illustrative media, rather than simply to communicate factual information. I conduct guided tours for groups of all ages on the SS Col. James M. Schoonmaker. While those tours all convey much of the same information, I adapt each one to meet the group in front of me. If they are senior citizens whoâve grown up in Toledo, Iâm prepared to talk about the S.S. Willis B. Boyer and answer variations on the question, âWhy would somebody change the boatâs name?â If theyâre farmers from rural Ohio, I know Iâll be reserving time for extra discussion in the galley and a visit to the engine roomâs tool displays. One woman thanked me at the end of a tour, saying, âMy son is in the Navy and I want to thank you for this, because now I know how important the Great Lakes are to our country. I have an understanding I didnât have before.â School kids from Downriver Detroit might get an extra story about the J.W. Westcott Company which operates from the foot of 24th St. in Detroit. No two tours are identical. Kids from kindergarten through high school, and their grown-ups, get the best version for them. When I take kids on the boat, I have two overriding interpretive goals. One is to make space for their questions and reactions to what they are experiencing. The other is to help them discover the relationships between what theyâre learning and their own lives. Some things like the two-bed four-person Oilers and Wipers cabin are easy. While they look at the cabin, I tell them what Oilers and Wipers did. I talk about shift-work. I tell them about the working environment on a coal-fired steamship. Then I tell them about hot bunking. They are generally and delightfully appalled. I ask, âDo you think you would like to trade shifts and share a cabin like this?â The answer is always a resounding, âNo.â My favorite place to board is midship into the hold. When kids step through the door into the vast center hold they are awed. Not only is âawedâ a good state of mind to start them off with, it makes for a breathtaking experience when they climb the narrow ships ladder and emerge on the deck facing the Maumee. As for relating personally from the hold to the deck, most of them have seen a freight train passing; oftentimes with open coal cars. I ask them how many coal cars worth of coal they think fit in the hold. When we get up to the deck, they can see the river, the city skyline, the double-leaf bascule bridges theyâre standing between, and railroad tracks. We walk down the deck and enter the galley through the crew mess. The galley is something they recognize, so the stories tend toward the roles of the steward, cook, and porter. Their eyes are as big as the saucers behind the fiddle rails in the metal cabinets when I tell them about the quality and the amount of food prepared for the sailors. We talk about scratch cooking, holiday menus, and Saturday steak nights. At that point, I like to ask whoâs had a frozen microwave meal and every hand goes up. Now theyâre ready for a story they have the life experience to understand. I point to the freezers installed by the owners in the 1970s. I explain how even before most families had microwaves in their homes, the same companies whose names we recognize on microwave meals today were making large frozen meals for cooking in ovens. I tell them how the owners wanted to save money by having less âhome-cookedâ food. When I get to, âWhat do you think the sailors thought of that?,â their reactions are similar to the idea of hot bunking. âYouâre right,â I say, and tell them that the company went back to the old meals by the end of the season because the crew were threatening to go elsewhere next season. The galley staffâs cabins are of particular interest to them when they find out that families used to live in those spaces when a parent took the winter layup ship keeper position. There are many spots throughout the boat to make these connections, and enough suitable ones to [âŠ] https://globalmaritimehistory.com/guest-blog-faith-currie/