Sunday, August 8, 2021

My Great Sock Puppet Lake

The lake is called Superior for a reason. It's huge, it's awesome, it's frequently scary and occasionally deadly. For me, however, all that vanishes the second I look at a map of it. It makes me giggle. What I see is a raggedy-ass sock puppet.

Start with Duluth/Suprior, in the lower left of the map. Or Southwest, if you insist. That's the nose. The long head rises up to where Isle Royale forms a slanted eye. If you follow the southern shore, the first bit of land jutting north into the lake, forming a mouth, is where Bayfield and the Apostle Islands lay. I can't help imagining the islands as food bits in the mouth, ready to pour out since my puppet is chewing with its mouth open, and of course facing down.

The next bit of land jutting up north into the lake/puppet ends at Copper Harbor. This is the neck, and everything behind it, aka to the east, is a raggedy sock, loose and raveled, likely why it was donated for this silly use in the first place. Why turn a good sock into a puppet, after all?

Still can't see it? Take your right hand, thumb towards you. Bend it down at the wrist, fingers together but thumb spread. Imagine a sock fitted over the hand at that angle, the toe stuffed back up into that gap between fingers and thumb making the mouth of the puppet. Unlike the lake, when your thumb moves separately from your fingers, it's a mouth talking. It's how sock puppets work. Add a long eye, and voila! You now have a "Superior" sock puppet.

If you're like me, once you see it, you can never unsee the puppet. But shhhhh! It'll be our little secret.

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