In early August, my family and I stayed in a house along Elk Lake called
"Whispering Hope."  It's fun to try and see what the name of a boat or
summer home means. Elk Lake empties into Grand Traverse Bay at Elk Rapids, Michigan.  Elk
Rapids is a little town of about 1,500 with a great bakery and picturesque
tennis courts on the beach.
        People on big boats travel through Grand Traverse Bay, going from town to
town and renting slips in towns with deep harbors.  In Elk Rapids, the
harbor is deep and about 75 cruisers and sailboats were anchored in the
harbor in early August.
        Each day on my morning run I headed down to the harbor to see what
different boats came in the evening before.  I was a little, gawking kid,
running along the dock, reading the name on the back of each boat.  Most
had a name with the city and state below the name.
        Some of the names give you a good hint at the story behind the boat.  The
first boat that caught my eye was named "Patricia Ann."  That's my mother's
name.   That boat was one among several with a woman's name painted on the
back.
        A couple in their early 60s sat in lounge chairs on the back of one
35-foot sailboat named "No More Tuition."  Fair enough, I thought.
        Not far from "No More Tuition" was an elegant, craft with sliding glass
doors that allowed me to see inside the cabin and view thick-cushioned
black leather chairs.  That vessel was named "Adding Zeroes."  As the
saying goes, if you have to ask the boat dealer how much it costs, you
can't afford it.
        Resting between two large sailboats was a "smaller" vessel named
"Compromise."  Did he want a big boat but she insisted on a big house
first?  Or was it the other way around?  Still, Compromise cost plenty of
zeroes.  Some compromise.
        One luxury boat from East Peoria, Illinois, was named "Lucky Duck."
Well,
at least the owners admit it.  A little white poodle ran to the edge of the
boat and yapped at me when I jogged by.
        The one name that gave me pause was "One More Chance."  Had someone
recovered from an illness?  Had a first business deal failed?  Or the
previous boat sunk?  Perhaps some person had a religious conversion.
        And finally came the name of the boat that scored points for being most
honest.  This yacht had dirt bikes strapped to the rail and a Rottweiler
lumbering around the feet of an older woman with "blonde" hair and pink
lipstick.  It was one of those boats you stare at and say, "Wow."  The name
painted in black cursive was, appropriately,  "Nev'r Satisfied."
        Having come from the wheatfields of Kansas to the cornfields of Illinois,
I have never owned a boat.  But one afternoon I was talking with my
children, wondering aloud what we might name "our luxury boat."  My son
suggested that if we had a quarter-million dollar cabin cruiser we could
name it "Who Needs Prayer?"  I countered with, "How about 'Learning
Contentment.'"  My daughter said, "We could name it 'Daily Devotion.'"  The
names went downhill after that.
        Running back from the harbor to the cute little house on Elk Lake always
brought me back to reality.   The white cottage was peaceful, and in fact,
"Whispering Hope" has its own story.
The elderly woman we rented from for years once told us the story behind
the name.  Back in the 1930s her 10-year-old brother was hit by a car and
killed.  Their distraught mother decided to name their then new Elk Lake
summer home "Whispering Hope."
        That name comes from a Christian hymn written in the 19th century, and
the hymn gave the grieving mother hope.  One verse says, "Hope, as an anchor so
steadfast, rends the dark veil for the soul. …Whispering hope, oh how
welcome thy voice, making my heart in its sorrow rejoice."
        The woman told us that her mom used to sing the hymn over and over again,
especially as she sat on the front porch of the summer home.  She said her
mother had hope that she would one day see her son again.   Her mom sang
the song and then often quoted a verse from Hebrews:  "Hope we have as an
anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast."
        The peace of that grieving woman remains to this day on the front porch
over which the name hangs, "Whispering Hope."

        Reprinted with permission from the Champaign-Urbana News-Gazette,
copyright 2000.