Who Was the Last SMI Baby?

     My father grew up on South Manitou Island, became a Coast Guardsman in the late 1920's, and married the island's young school teacher in the mid-1930's. They lived in a rented home near the Coast Guard Station; the one now called the "Thompson/Meeker House." I was conceived in that house on the island, probably on New Years Eve, the night that 1939 turned into 1940.

     It only recently occurred to me that I might have been the island's last baby; the last child concieved and brought into life within an island-resident family descending from some of its earliest settlers. This seems possible, since by the time I was born, things had pretty much wound down on the island. Most of its young people had left for the mainland, leaving only the old timers remaining on the farms. Young couples were limited to a few Coast Guardsmen and their wives, and most of the able-bodied men were, like my father, called away to the war shortly after I was born.

     Now, in the twilight of my life, as it were, I think now and again about ending my story where it began; about being buried on the island when that time comes. As one having strong ancestral connections to the island, Lakeshore policy technically affords me that right. Yet, the main cemetery is a special place; mainly the final resting place for people who called the island home for most of their lives, and ultimately died there. I wonder about desecration; about what special aspect of me would justify my intrusion into that special contingent of saints.

     As was the custom after the turn of the century, my mother was taken across to the mainland early the following autumn, probably by my grandpa August Warner, but maybe in the Coast Guard life boat, to have her baby in a hospital. A few days later, she returned with South Manitou's newest and youngest "islander" in her arms.

     Perhaps the ancestry, my being a product of both the Hutzler and Haas families, is enough. That evidently is the Lakeshore's view. But then, there are lots of people now living who could trace their roots back to island families. That's really nothing special. I suppose one could discount all those who never actually lived on the island. That would reduce the potential number of burials, since all of the old time residents had left by the early 1950's. I suppose one could consider any nut-case who still wanted to be buried on the island as "special." My father left for sea duty (WW-II) shortly after I was born; my grandparents left some dozen years later. They never looked back, never went back, and certainly didn't want to be buried over there. So, yes; I suppose that wish does make me special.

     This historical trivia, a minor point-of-interest for latter day visitors, might be worthy of some small space in the corner of the South Manitou cemetery.

     And so I'm opening this little research project, searching for the island's last baby. If you have any light to shed on this subject, drop me a line and let me know what you know.