by Cheryl Mathis on July 31st, 2008
After not making it on a ferris wheel for the entire Fourth of July holiday, I knew I would start going into withdrawal when the big fair came to town. This girl loves ferris wheels. And funnel cakes. And sweet corn dipped in butter.I’m a frugal sort, however, and the fair entry cost would probably be better used towards something like our electric bill or the ice cream addiction.
Even if I’m not going to indulge in the wild and wooly fair, I bet some of you will. What draws you there? The music? The 4-H exhibits? The rides? The horrible-for-you food? The awesome parking?
If I were going to go on Sunday when tickets are only five dollars each, I would do the following: Ferris wheel, funnel cake, 4-H exhibits to show my little boy about animals, sweet corn, ferris wheel, some cheesy ride with the little boy, another cheesy ride, ferris wheel, and a funnel cake to take home.
I’m not a roller coaster fan, live music is kind of frenetic with so many people and I can’t handle spinning very fast in one of those crazy contraptions. My fair needs would be simple and direct. I vote for the fair people to offer the Citizen Wausau editorial board free day passes so we’ll write more about them — they absolutely need the publicity.
Let me live vicariously through you, dear readers. What is your favorite fair memory?
by Citizen Wausau on July 29th, 2008
I am having a hard time coming up with a good intro. But there is a lot of very interesting reading for one and all in CW’s personal blogs this week:
• Working with hay bales is hard work, man, if you have done it you know it is no joke. On the “A Stable Personality” blog, Billie tells a nice, warm story about stacking hay bales with friends, and about stacking hay bales as a random act of kindness.
• christopher thinks about technology and connectedness, and ponders severing the cord.
• The first-ever Green Bay Packers News podcast! The man is a natural.
• A near-crash, followed by a real crash, a pursuit, and a breathalyzer test. Stephenie writes about the consequences of underage drinking and driving, and about how police choose to apply punishment.
• And an update from politicalactorvist, who tells us that he is switching from the “actor” side to the political for a little while.
by Citizen Wausau on July 25th, 2008
[We want to thank Jane Neal for these questions. It was great to get help from someone who writes for a living, and teaches. If you have a set of questions, please feel free to send them to us. Dino.]
1. When you listen to music, are you listening for the melody, the lyrics, or the whole package? I think different people love and listen differently. I can love a song totally for what it says, but I know other people who love songs and have no idea what’s being said in the lyrics. (”Hold me close, young Tony Danza”)
2. Are you more defined by your dwelling or your vehicle? My first car was a Chevy Camaro…wow, I still miss him. (I saw one very similar to him yesterday and it had COLLECTOR’s PLATES!)
Now my car is a vehicle that gets me from hither to yon. And my bike does that when the trip is short and the weather is fine. My home is my haven.
3. What’s your favorite bar and/or restaurant in town? Why? I used to value merely good service (having my water glass filled without having to ask) and a degree of anonymity. Now, I appreciate the “Cheers” aspect of being greeted and made to feel welcome. One surly barkeep can drive me away (unless the food or drinks are REALLY good).
4. Do you wear socks with sandals? Please tell me why. I come from a much warmer clime and sandals are for wearing when the weather is warm. If it is so cold that you require socks, perhaps you should wear, I don’t know … shoes?
5. Do you have any food quirks? Things you won’t eat, or things you only eat a certain way? I prefer not to eat raw tomatoes or raw onions, but will eat both cooked. But prefer raw carrots to cooked ones. I will not eat mushrooms. (hello! Fungus!) Conversely, I will not discuss whether the bleu cheese on my salad or the gorgonzola melting across my steak and stuffed into the olive in my martini may in fact, be moldy cheese. Lalalalala … I can’t hear you.
by Dino Corvino on July 24th, 2008
It has been a while since I posted an agenda or meeting minutes. I got this one in the electronic mailbox, and I knew I had to sit down and relight my personal civic fire.
In the past, others have asked, why post this stuff? Those dudes and dudettes do not listen to the common man; those folks just listen to the fancy people. Maybe so, I respond, but maybe you are not speaking the right language. Maybe they do not know you, and you do not know them. Either way, I tend to think they listen.
But this HR Agenda jumped out at me. If we have one area of concern, it is HR. Mr. Nagle is leaving, Mr. Morrissey left, Kristen Fish moved on. Anne Werth was named interim boss at Development, but the city is calling for an applicant search.
So, a lot is going on. I will pose this one question to be a wise guy, and let it not be a parting shot. With the HR Director, Nagle, effectively gone, who will run the search for Mr. Morrissey’s replacement? The Mayor appointed himself; I repeat that … the Mayor appointed himself the head of Development after Mr. Morrissey left. Mr. Nagle is leaving, will the Mayor appoint himself? Will the Mayor appoint Mr. Forrest?
If I may be so bold, I ask another question, based solely on my perception. When the new Council sat, in the first few sessions, Mr. Forrest effectively tried to have a coup in the castle, removing the Mayor from power on a wide range of voting and procedural issues. A brave move to bring more power and authority to the City Council, but in the end, this revolt was quickly put down. In the past few months, City Council President Forrest has remained amazingly silent and passive given the revolt he led in the first weeks. Does anyone have a theory as to why that is? I have posed the theory that Mr. Forrest is a highly qualified replacement for Mr. Morrissey. Our city could do worse than a man with his pedigree. It is possible to see this in two ways — laying low to not ruffle feathers so he can be seriously considered for the position, or the more inflammatory option being someone told him he would be considered or hired if he got on the team.
Since we are talking about HR and retirement and tomfooleryh, let us not forget about the Wendy Jasurda matter. It now appears that many of the players from said lawsuit have left public service as a career. Does this change the nature of the lawsuit, given the fact that these people are no longer employees? If the lawsuit is lost, will those people deemed at fault, Morrissey and Nagle, have their pensions and future monies from the city affected?
I think the city faces growing pains, massive growth spurts that create pain and ill-fitting pants, and as a result, the HR Committee might be the committee that decides our collective future.
HR Committee Agenda-July 28
by Citizen Wausau on July 21st, 2008
Welcome, one and all. It was a relatively quiet week in the CW personal blogs section, though perhaps that’s because there were so much great front-page submissions. Here are just a few of the highlights from the past week in the blogs:
• Jill Knetter writes about being maid of honor at her mother’s wedding. She has some conflicting emotions, and some very personal but also rather universal thoughts about marriage and family.
• Andy Laub looks back at the just-closed WCT performance of Over the River & Through the Woods, in which he played the lead. And he looks forward to the upcoming production of Sweeney Todd!
• Erik has a date for the Wausau screening of his movie Microcosm: It’s Sept. 5 at UWMC.
• And the Green Bay Packers News blog is doing its Green Bay Packers news thing, plus a very worthwhile shot at the places that have been censoring anti-Favre speech.
by Cheryl Mathis on July 21st, 2008
Before dinner last night, my little family and I went to Schofield FunDays to have some community time. We basked in the boyish bliss of the bounce house and giant inflatable slide until our delight was tainted by the actions of one woman on the playground.
As a way to lure our toddler son away from the rides, we promised him some playground time at the school playground near where we had parked. I ran around with Ben, taking too many pictures of him as usual, and Chris stayed on a bench with Baby Anna.
A woman with children came to join us, but she sat down next to Chris and lit up a cigarette, just a couple feet away from Anna’s face. We left. Ben has asthma, and Anna, as a preemie, is especially susceptible.
We were in public and outside, so that’s a smoking area, right? Sure, but it’s a school playground.
Chris and I hotly debated the issue on the way home. We were both outraged and indignant by her rudeness, but I drew similarities between people who are sensitive to cigarette smoke and people who get migraines when in the presence of perfume wafting through the air. When do the rights of the sensitive people outweigh those of others?
Though I smoked for several years, I don’t anymore, mostly because of my children but also because the severity of my family history of lung cancer finally knocked itself into my thick skull.
Soon after quitting, I became hypersensitive to the smell of cigarette smoke. I avoided it because it made me long for the good ol’ days when I could indulge. When I was pregnant, I avoided it for the sake of my gestating baby, and I was annoyed but resigned to walking through the smoking section of the Log Cabin Restaurant to get to the restroom.
Like the sensitive people who avoid perfume, I now avoid cigarettes. I walk away. I pack up my kids and leave. I silently judge those who smoke in their children’s faces. I quietly hope that someday, the desire to quit wins out over the nicotine addiction.
How do you feel about smoking bans? Should there be different rules for places for children rather than for adult places like bars?
by Cheryl Mathis on July 18th, 2008
- When you ride a bike, do you wear a helmet? My mom fell off of her bike last Tuesday, and she badly damaged her eye because she slammed down on her sunglasses. They think that the damage would have been far less severe if she had been wearing a helmet. Still, wearing one doesn’t come naturally to me because I never wore one when I was a kid. New habits have to start NOW.
- Are you taking any precautions against mosquitoes this summer? I’m freaked out about West Nile, so I won’t let my son have a wading pool in the backyard unless we just fill it for a one-time use. Do you know any natural ways of fending off the terrible scourge on the hide of humanity?
- Are you attending any family reunions this summer? We have one that we’re going to a couple weekends from now, but none of my siblings and their families are attending. I feel like a fuddy-duddy for caring about my extended family. Is it a generational thing that some people don’t care about reunions anymore?
- Do you still prefer the music of your youth? In my plurk group, people have been oohing and aahing over the Packer Blog guy getting to meet Bret Michaels of Poison, though Jim Carlson already knows him. I missed that era completely. In general, I’ve noticed that the music that was popular during your teen years is usually the stuff you prefer to listen to later on. It’s close to your heart because it was so much a part of your formative years. What other excuse could there be for WIFC to play “Pour Some Sugar On Me” five times a day? The nineties was my music era, for better or for worse. What music still turns you on after all these years?
- How do you feel about beer tents at community events? Shawn Sullivan and his family were startled to find a beer garden at the Balloon Rally this year, and they shared some awkward and disturbing drinking-related incidents that upset their small children. Is it a societal norm in Wisconsin? Should it be?
- How are your New Year’s Resolutions doing? My husband and I decided that 2008 would be the year of weight loss, and we’ve lost 40 pounds each. Since April, we’ve fallen off the wagon with our workouts (and eating too much delicious ice cream), and I’m determined to climb back on and continue with the weight loss. I’m kicking our butts in gear, and we’re going to the Y tonight after work to do some fierce cardio. What did you decide to do?
by Darcey Westcott on July 17th, 2008
Wausau’s ChalkFest was a hugely successful event…on Saturday and Sunday when the artists were spending literally hours creating their chalk masterpieces. Fast forward to Monday and reality hits as the city’s automatic sprinkler system kicks in. Thoughtless oversight? Or intentional washout?
I talked to many of the artists during the weekend, some of whose fingers were rubbed raw from blending chalk colors on the bumpy blacktop as they painstakingly etched their drawings to perfection. Some camped out next to their allotted square space (seriously, there were tents) and spent the entire two days creating and improving their personal masterpieces. Many of the drawings were group efforts: the “Last Supper” was a conglomerate of art students from UWMC; a peace sign mural was created by two best friends; a series of three cartoons was set in sequence by an entire family. Every chalk drawing seemed to have a story.
It was an honor to be a part of the event as an observer…as well as a family member of one of the artists. If you attended the event, you couldn’t help but feel intense pride from the artists, their families and friends. Smiles, hugs, oohs and aahs were prevalent as you walked around the city square, studying and admiring unique presentations from amateur to accomplished artists. And there was one overhanging and often-spoken phrase that marked the weekend: “Thank God it didn’t rain.”
This year’s ChalkFest was a well-publicized event and the kind not to be missed by many in our community. If you happened to be out of town that weekend, you could be calmed by the fact that, if it didn’t rain, you could take a trip downtown on Monday and view the drawings in their finality.
As it didn’t rain at all on Sunday, I took a trip back downtown on Monday with my children to ooh and aah at the chalk masterpieces and have fun talking about the sharks and Nemos and lions and Tiggers and tweety birds and daffy ducks and Sylvester the cats… What we found were shadows of artworks, empty squares of blacktop and award signs posted next to top-voted drawings– but no drawings to view.
What happened? Did it mystically rain throughout the day or night? Did the stronger-than-average wind blow all the chalk off the square? Did too many people walk on the drawings and erase the chalk with their shoes? As I was asking these questions out loud to my children, a passerby noted: “The automatic sprinklers came on and washed all the drawings away.”
Wow. That answer blew my mind. Were the artists aware this would happen? Was Wausau Area Events made aware of the quick demise these drawings would receive? It’s rather ironic. With such a looming fear of rain washing away the personal presentations, our own city sprinklers washed them away within hours of their completion. I’m sure there are logical reasons why the automatic sprinklers couldn’t be delayed a day or two to preserve this unique event, but seriously, it feels a bit hard-nosed that the efforts of our community could be so effortlessly erased.
There’s always next year. And the lesson learned is….well, you can fill in the rest of that statement.
by Tom Neal on July 16th, 2008
This week, I was riding my bike on the east side when a strong, oily smell smote my nostrils. I looked around and saw a darkish cloud roiling above a funeral home. “Oh, cripes! They’re incinerating someone!” was my first reaction. And I somewhat recoiled at the sight; and unreasonably so. After all, they do indeed burn dead people — they call it cremation. You get to keep the ashes of your loved one if you want; you can hold onto them or scatter them in some special place.
But, having that blackish smoke invade my day was sobering and I couldn’t help feeling offended or intruded upon. Thought, “Shouldn’t they do this at night?” I always thought that funeral ovens were so incredibly hot that there would be no troublesome smoke. And indeed, as I stood with my bike, transfixed by the evidence of the ceremony within, the smoke was replaced by clear, shimmery heat waves emanating from the large chimney. (Mission accomplished.) I wondered, “What does the roof look like? Lots of bits of burned people up there?”
“Hey Frank, it’s your turn to go up and sweep off the roof.”
Dark. Sorry. But what do you expect, given the tableau d’morte I had just witnessed?
Then, I considered the other posthumous rites and practices we encounter. Chances are that you, like me, have attended the open-casket funeral where the deceased loved one lies there, a waxen, plastic facsimile of the person you knew and loved. Other times, the coffin holds someone who merely looks peacefully asleep.
Then we bury. And erect a monument, or at least plant a flat marker. And a vast city of the dead … and their living attendants … spreads out below the trees, surrounded on all sides by life. I haven’t been to my parents’ graves up in Sault Ste. Marie since we buried my Mom a few years back. So many graves, unvisited, unacknowledged, although not necessarily forgotten.
So, what do you want them to do with you? When the time comes. When you have to be dealt with.
I think of the options: ashes scattered in the Scottish Highlands, or across the waves of Lake Superior or the Irish Sea (brrrr!); a dignified, imposing granite block marking my resting place in a lonesome bone yard somewhere; a Reebok shoebox containing my ashes surreptitiously buried in the woods by a trout stream. My wife Jane wants a large statue of Venus rising from the waves on a half-shell, but no grave to go with it. Do you want to be embalmed or “go green”? Do you want a sealed, steel casket (funeral director will say how this will “protect” the remains in perpetuity, i.e. forever) or in a plain wooden variety?
Old lyric:
The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out
The ones that go in are lean and thin
The ones that crawl out are fat and stout
Your eyes fall in and your teeth fall out
Your brains come tumbling down your snout
Be merry, my friends, be merry
Do you think you deserve or need that 4×8 piece of real estate? Do you want to be “preserved”? Do you want to go out in a flash of super-heat, maybe wee bits up the ol’ chimney and down for rooftop repose or to infiltrate some biker’s nose? And what music do you want played at your funeral. I’ll insist on “A Whiter Shade of Pale.”
What do you want them to do with you? And why?
by Dino Corvino on July 15th, 2008
I feel strange writing about Brett Favre. I have not wanted to really ever write about sports, save the for brilliance of Bobby Bowden or the metaphysical brilliance of Roy Jones, Jr., but I have had enough. I have had enough of this constant onslaught of this man and his never-ending string of manipulation at the expense of the people of this great state. Just a few months ago, I stood in County Market, and I cried. At 37, I cried as we all listened to the press conference played over the PA. Grown men stood unmoving while our hero stepped aside.
Then I came to my office and put off working to write a post thanking Brett for his time, that it meant something more than sports to me. The memories of watching the first touchdown in the Superbowl, sitting with my now passed father, watching something bigger than just a football game. This guy — we all believed him to be our hero. No matter who you are, no matter how cynical you are, everyone in this state was happy for the run of Brett. We were all glad that this dude was our quarterback.
But this run is over, and it ended badly. I am angry, not for anything related to football, but because I think Brett lied to me, lied to us all. He was our gunslinger, our beer-drinking, stubble-having, good old boy who just liked to play the football, just liked to get out there and mix it up every week. Brett was never in too many commercials here in Wisconsin, and we never thought he was a big time football star like the others. He was not in a ton of ads like Peyton Manning or dating supermodels and getting actresses pregnant like Tom Brady. He was just one of us, as likely to be at the fish fry at the VFW as he was to be in the gym working out.
All that is done. It’s over. Tonight this guy took the time to go on Red State News (Fox) and spin his tale. He has had his minions out there doing the media work for him, pushing the Green Bay Packers, our team in so many ways, into a corner. The ultimate diva move, this is Scottie Pippen demanding a raise or he would leave and break up the Bulls, this is Kobe demanding in so many hints that Shaq needs to go.
We need to remember that Favre is, in fact, not one of us. Well, he is not one of me anyway. He is a multimillionaire who lives in another state. He makes more money on interest each month than I make all year. This agent, while having the nickname Bud, is in fact a high-powered agent. This is not some dude who is making calls from the cab of his straight truck while he is driving a Frito Lay route.
The Packer News blog here on Citizen Wausau has all sorts of facts. Serious discussion about this stuff, and I will leave that to him as he does a good job. I just want to try some of my own facts though.
1. This dude Favre retired. A willing choice as HR people will stipulate.
2. This guy Favre had years remaining on his contract worth a ton of money. So he could have returned if he wanted to.
3. When one retires, it is like quitting a job.
4. In the NFL, when one retires, you are put on the retired list, but still remain a member of the team. So you cannot retire, and just go play wherever you want, as that would be a shady business practice.
5. Favre has had some second thoughts to the retirement thing, BUT …
6. If one wants to unretire in the NFL, one can, and return to the team one retired from. You simply need to petition the NFL for reinstatement.
7. BUT … Brett clearly did not want to ask for reinstatement. He could have had his lawyers and agents send that letter, or his assistant could have done it.
8. Brett did not want to do that. He DID NOT SEND THAT LETTER. HE DID NOT WANT TO RETURN TO THE PACKERS.
9. Instead he sent a letter demanding his release. He did not want to return to the Packers. He wanted to be released to go play for someone else.
He did not want to return to the Green Bay Packers. He wanted his unconditional release so he could go play somewhere else.
That is what it was. This man, this multimillionaire wanted to go play a game somewhere else. He wanted to move on and leave the Green Bay Packers. This hero did not want to stand in the room and work it out with Packer management.
As far as the act of retirement goes … I would love to have the chance to sit down with my boss, QUIT, and then a few months later decide that I wanted to come back and do the job. I would want them to fire the dude who was doing my job, and let me do it again. Maybe I would do it all year, or maybe I would get it in my head to retire again.
I know I want the chance to flip-flop with my employer as to whether I would want to come back and do my job. I know I would like it better that way. The ability to hold my employer hostage is cool.
Let us not be moved by the mouth moving of Brett Favre. His is just the mouth of another multimillionaire athlete, prepped and coiffed like Terrell Owens or a repentant Randy Moss. Brett Favre has become the thing that we have all thought he was not, the superstar athlete. Not one of us. Not one of us.
I am sorry, Brett. You are a gazillionaire, and for you, the people of Wisconsin have become emotionally battered. We want to love you, but I must tell you that because of my anger at your actions, your selling out of your own legacy, I cannot see you anymore. You are not our gunslinger; you did not walk into the sunset like John Wayne.
You drove into the sunset in your Escalade, to the private plane of the Packers, and they flew you back to where ever you live. Then your assistant, who probably makes more than me, picked you up at the airport in what I assume was not an old pickup. Your assistant drove you to your multimillion-dollar house, where your multimillion-dollar agent and attorney met you to go over your post football strategy.
You are not John Wayne. John Wayne did not send him mom to do his bidding, or his brother, or someone holding up the memory of your father. John Wayne would have stood up on his own and asked on his own. You sent your mom to radio, your brother or uncle or whatever folksy person you wanted to send out there to sound salt of the Earth.
I hope you stay retired, Brett. But more than that, I hope you at least to cop to being a rich guy. This was a sad manipulation, Brett. This was terrible. You pulled the heartstrings of good Wisconsin people on purpose, with the intent of lashing out at management. This is Wisconsin. These are people that lived and died for you, man, and you jerked them around like so many wrestling fans. You are guilty of that, Brett.
I am going to go back to cheering for Florida State football. I want nothing more to do with this crap.
