In the eyes of a child, the seemingly endless sprawlof water that extends from the shore of Lake Michiganis just that. It is “really big.” Or it might be “pretty.” Ormaybe it’s just “Too cold! I’d rather sit on the beach.”Without perspective, these first impressions remainsurface-level, like the shimmer of the waves. As I’vegrown older, life experiences have deepened myrespect for these lakes I grew up around. I’ve beenfrom Savannah to San Francisco and have yet to find acoastline that elicits the same feeling in me as the FreshCoast. With age, I’ve come to think that “Great” might noteven be a sufficient moniker.
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