Ideas for a Green Wausau, for a sustainable future, sometimes seem far-fetched or too costly, but I assert that this doesn’t have to be true. By taking some first steps to sustainability, we can achieve a more environmentally healthy city and hopefully, less of a dependence on foreign oil. With a media focus on T. Boone Pickens’ plan, we can take this moment to talk about the first steps that Wausau can take, should take, since we are a community packed full of conscientious, brilliant people with determination and grit. (more…)
Voice the official Citizen Wausau blog
When summer fades and autumn moves in and winter looms, I feel bad about putting my bicycle up for the season, but I feel good about wearing boots again. I’ll miss the porch, but welcome the fireplace back into my life.
1. Do you have an autumn activity you like returning to, like making soup or reading the classics?
2. If you had to choose your last meal (like on Death Row), what would it be? I’m going with all-you-can-eat snow crab legs with drawn butter and fresh raspberries with real whipped cream.
3. Did you attend Exhibitour last week? Have you ever attended an Exhibitour? If so, what did you think about it?
4. Do you ever ride up to the top of Rib Mountain just to look around? If so, how often?
5. What is something that never fails to make you angry?
6. What is something that never fails to make you smile?
The City of Wausau is a small town. Like a small car, the City of Wausau can be a nimble thing, darting through changes, looking forward, wind in its hair. But like a badly maintained small car, the city of Wausau can be an underpowered, unresponsive car without any room for friends or family or even the dog. I think that this is a challenging time, a time with opportunity, and a time where we have the resources to make our City the best small car we can make it.
As the Fourth of July just passed, I am left with the reality that we built this country not with committees or procedures, but literally with shovels and hoes, and our hands got dirty. We came here (and yes, we stole the country from its previous tenants) and created government out of an idea, out of an abstraction. Blood in the streets, brothers killing brothers, and law was the beginning.
Today we have a much different world. Some might say a more stagnant world, one that sits on its laurels and rests in hopes of resting at a later time — a slower, less dynamic, less responsive, less brave world. A world often led by its fear.
We in Wausau have a chance to change some of that. We have a chance, we have the resources, and we have the wherewithal to do it.
Jim Rosenberg is a member of our City Council and a member of the County Board. He has been there since before the Civil War, I think, and was a founding father of this city. Just kidding, but he has, in fact, been a civic leader for a long time. In case anyone was wondering, Jim works at WPS. The electric company. A big electric company. Jim is a leader both in the city and in the big electric company.
Let us think about that for a second shall we? A man in a leadership position in the City is also sitting in a position to know all the players in the energy business. When I wanted to explore solar power, Jim was a tremendous asset, telling me who was reputable and who was not.
How can this apply to our city? HOW DOES IT NOT? Mr. Rosenberg has access and contact with people who are experts in both electricity and alternative energy, just through his daily reading for his job. How can these people help us in Wausau? How can they not?
We have a Commission for a Greener Tomorrow. I have read every agenda and every set of minutes they have put forth. We have a mayor who has a chance to lead us into a sustainable working model for our city. And we have Rosenberg.
We have a chance to exploit the professional knowledge and contacts of this Rosenberg character to the fullest extent. If the City of Wausau is really serious about making a commitment to being green or sustainable, it has someone on its council who can and should be called upon to lead the way.
Sadly though, like a sluggish small car, we are underpowered and under committed. A statement from our Mayor at the beginning, a unanimous vote to name an ad hoc committee. That is it, and it is sad.
New York City has an entire department devoted to Sustainability. New York is like a Sherman Tank compared to a small car. A small car can move faster, change direction quicker, and I hope we do. A green Wausau could contain solar and wind power, more community gardens, hybrid fleet vehicles, and greener building standards. In part two of this series, I’ll describe many specific, tangible ideas that we can invest in and implement.
We live in a challenging time, a time of vast change and significant social upheaval. Small towns, medium cities, all have a chance to lead. To be innovative, to be responsive, to be the best small car we can be.
A lot of puzzles present themselves to me every week. Why does my son only color with the red crayon? Why does my daughter rub peanut butter in her hair? Why do I keep forgetting which week is recycling week? The following questions should be easier to answer. They were carefully culled from some of the best of the internet’s “memes,” and I found them intriguing and interesting. Bonus points if you can answer any of my personal puzzles.
- If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the body or the mind of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?
- What is the worst psychological torture you can imagine suffering? (it cannot involve any physical harm to you)?
- Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as your dinner guest? As a close friend? As a lover?
- What, in your opinion, is the worst song ever?
- Who is your favorite comedian?
Well, the heat is really turning up in the Presidential election. Intense debates, emotions running high, personal attacks, accusations, spurious claims, twisted facts, falsehoods — and all that is just between regular citizens on different sides of the fence!
I had a pretty involved debate recently with a friend who’s way at the other end of the political spectrum from me. In typical fashion, I was loud and overbearing, and I wagged my index finger often to make “points.” This is the sort of thing I’ve seen or been part of lots of times in my life, like a heated encounter you might see at a coffee house in Bulgaria or something. (Is there still a Bulgaria?)
My friend became frustrated by my demeanor and several interruptions. Rightfully so. I got overly excited about what I viewed as partisan statements that were baseless or just plain wrong. I’m thinking, after all, if you’re going to disagree, then it should be about real things, not falsehoods, eh? Let’s stick to the facts and all that.
At the end of it all, several points that we both made were left unsupported factually. I offered to follow up next day with e-mailed background facts. When I e-mailed the added info and a healthy portion of my pointed opinions, I received a pretty strong rebuke — a virtual cease-and-desist order. In retrospect, I know I was being very preachy. And now: a friendship is somewhat bruised, hopefully not fractured. We’ll see.
This leads me to the thing I’m wondering about. Civil discourse. Political discourse. Discussing the issues during a major national election. Certainly, nobody should ambush anybody on the street corner or in the grocery store and just start yelling partisan positions at them (maybe because the target is wearing a political button or t-shirt). But, when there is a comment made from one side and a response from the other side, and then opposing viewpoints start flying, is that a bad thing? Should we shy away from such things? Even the TV commentators get in each other’s faces pretty good. Should we just let our vote do our talking? Lately, I’ve heard the following statement several times: “The most patriotic thing you can do is vote on election day.” Nice sentiment, but is that where it begins and ends? The booth?
I grew up in an incendiary time of conflict, open dissent, protest, confrontation, politics that certainly affected friendships. People yelled, argued, sang, marched, published, paraded, and even got beaten up and shot. In the end, much of it was witnessed by the public at large. People saw both sides in stark contrast and made their own judgments and decisions accordingly.
Today, is it different? Do we sit and let the “leaders” do the talking? Do we accept their speeches and proclamations and then just “go vote.” Should the rich not hear what the poor have to say? Should gays go unheard by religious conservatives? Should a community not see its own people in the street expressing their hopes, anger or fears? Should libs and neocons just avoid each other, or at least keep their mouths shut, maybe talk about the weather? At the party conventions in Denver and St. Paul, the street was tightly controlled. Would-be protestors were corralled, controlled, cajoled and manhandled, far from the eyes of delegates and national media. I’m not a fan of anarchy or out-of-control mobs, and I don’t like seeing protestors get smacked, smoked, tasered or cuffed, but I sure would like to see more activity by Joe and Jane public. More signs. More buttons. More posters. More gatherings.
You know, as soon as you start talking about war, injustice, equality, taxes, poverty, life, global warming, patriotism or any of a host of potentially polar subjects, you will run into claims and counter-claims, emotions, beliefs, outrage and stubbornness. As long as it doesn’t devolve into violence, that’s probably the way it has to be for our own good. How can we remain cool and detached about these subjects? How can we really, truly “respect” and tolerate a moral or political opinion that runs counter to the very soul of our being? Sometimes, particularly in times like these, it’s more than okay to express a strong opinion and challenge someone about their own. It’s essential.
This is big stuff. It impacts our immediate lives. It impacts our children and theirs. I’ve mentioned before here on CW that I’m disappointed by low voter turnout. One contributor commented that I should be glad; this was democracy in action. I said it was democracy inaction! Twenty-some percent of the public should not be all we can muster to the polls.
Ultimately, it does come down to the vote. We’re 50-odd days away. I think everyone should dig deeper for facts, engage in discussion and, yes, heated debate. Everyone should get fired up, get off their asses, be heard, try to make an impact, try to change minds, try to enlist others, try to bring issues out into the clear light of day … and not just leave it to the speechwriters and media pundits to do it all for us.
In advance, I’m sorry if I come on too strong or offend you with my political views if we get into a talk. But, that’s what this country is supposed to be all about. America was born out of dissent. It was built upon dissent. It was tested by dissent. It grew and matured through dissent. Dissent may not be pretty, but it’s necessary. And it needs a loud, strong voice.
So, are you going to pussyfoot to the voting booth or are you going to march there? Or are you going there at all? What do you have to say for yourself?
I remember recess at my grade school in Milwaukee. They’d barricade both ends of the street, which then became our playground. I remember candy pencils and pretzels and the smell of the breweries. Friction tape, my army surplus shoulder bag, the lumberyard, plums, pork chops, the dry cleaners. Sometimes, a whiff of something, a taste, a sound, a texture or a shape will send me hurtling back in time like Tooter Turtle to very real moments and places. Then, Mr. Wizard the lizard intones, “Trizzle, trazzle, truzzle, trome, time for this one to come home” and I’m back here, now.
1. When’s the last time you smelled something that took you way back? What was it? Where did it take you? Was it good or bad?
2. What do you love touching? What do you hate touching?
3. How visually oriented are you? Do you notice crooked pictures? Do you get transfixed by a freckle? Are you oblivious to a near-blind level or hyper observant?
4. What sounds send you ‘round the bend? You know, like you can’t be in the same room with a wind chime or canary. What sounds just make you melt with ecstasy?
5. Do you take care of your taste buds and treat them to exquisite experiences? Or do you kill them with tobacco, cheap beer and fast food? When’s the last time your taste buds said, “Wow, thanks, man!”
6. Nobody wants to be blind; I would expect that would be pretty major to deal with. So, I’m just going to exempt that sense from this question: What is the one sense (of the remaining four) you would never want to live without? Why?
7. Is there a sixth sense? Like ESP or seeing dead people?
I was reading an article on CNN.com about the 9/11 memorial at the Pentagon when I remembered something that happened to me on Friday night.
I was in the Wendy’s in Marshfield with my daughter on our “date night.” She was trying to get through her hamburger so she could have her Frosty and I was gobbling the sour cream on my baked potato. I looked up and saw an older gentleman at the condiment counter, and the whole evening changed for me. The gentleman was wearing a retired Marine hat and t-shirt and was leaning on a cane. He started walking back to his table, so I got up and followed him. When he reached his table, where his wife and young daughter were waiting for him, he turned around and looked at me. I held my hand out to shake his and said, “I don’t mean to disturb your meal, but I wanted to take a moment to say thank you.” He took my hand, looked me deeply in the eyes and said, “You’re welcome.” With that, I walked away.
I went to the counter to get my daughter’s Frosty, and he followed me. When he got to the counter, he turned to me and said, “Ma’am, that young man working the drive-thru is also a Marine.” I waited a moment until the young man came near me and said, “Excuse me, but I just thanked that gentleman for his service, and he told me you’re a Marine, too. I just wanted to say thank you.” That young man also looked me deeply in the eyes and said, “You’re welcome, and thank you for recognizing our service.”
As I walked back to my table with tears in my eyes, I passed the older gentleman’s wife who mouthed the words “thank you” to me. I stopped to tell her that I always thank service people when I see them, but I can’t do it without tearing up. You see, I have a little girl, and I understand that our men and women are serving our country for her future. A future where she can be free to reach whatever goals she sets for herself. With that, I got all choked up and couldn’t speak, so I waved goodbye and walked back to my table. My daughter saw the tears in my eyes and asked why I was crying. I told her “because I love you.”
We finished our meal by sharing her Frosty. As we left the restaurant I made eye contact with the retired Marine. There was such gratitude in his face – gratitude for a complete stranger who took a moment to thank him for doing his job.
Now I’d like to challenge everyone reading this. Please, no matter how silly or embarrassed you feel, say “thank you” to each and every service person you meet in your daily travels. Even if you don’t support the war in the Middle East, please support the people who are giving their lives to fight for us. A simple little “thank you” can make all the difference.
We must be out of the summer doldrums, because we have had a flurry of activity on the CW personal blogs. It is my pleasure to showcase a few, with the understanding that these links are merely a sampling, and that in fact you should be spending lots and lots of time exploring the Citizen Wausau community:
• I really feel it’s necessary to start off this week with a shout-out to the Green Bay Packers News blog, because the football season is upon us.
• Our own politicalactorvist, now a freshman at UW-Eau Claire, has a close call where he temporarily thinks an old friend died in a car crash. They didn’t, but the kid who did really, really did not have to.
• With his movie premiere completed, the soon-to-be-Baltimorean Erik takes a moment to consider the work that went into it, and to write a bit about what it feels like to have a chance to step back and watch it as an audience member.
• Tom Neal gears up for a radio show of protest songs with some thoughts on the form and a call for requests for his Thursday-night show.
• And dcvoterboy considers the state of parking and policy in downtown Wausau.
After the show was over last night, Dino said he couldn’t wait to read what I write about my first rock concert. I hope he’s not disappointed, and I hope he treats this with kindness.
I went to my first rock concert last night at The Fillmor. The venue is beautiful and large and sparkling. Everyone I met was warm and enthusiastic, and I made new friends and had some fantastic conversations between sets. I even *gulp* drank some alcoholic beverages. My experiences are filtered through that boozy haze, and my head feels like it’s filled with angry cotton balls this morning, yet I still have something I need to say.
Years ago, I made the conscious decision to retreat from the social butterfly life of my college years. The drama turned scary, and I needed to figure out a new path for adulthood. I grew introspective and began to live very much in my own body. I spent months invariably alone, listening to countless audiobooks, working on needle crafts, finding some quiet in my head. The peace I found was pervasive, and it’s been very difficult to leave those years behind and move on to the next phase of my life.
I think I expected college-years-Cheryl to stretch out of her self-imposed cocoon and flutter about and party hard last night. It didn’t happen that way. My ear drums quickly grew numb, so the music’s lyrics blended into the background of loud excellent sound. I felt mute, my voice not reaching more than three inches in front of my face, and I became more quiet inside than ever before.
The music was great. Even I could tell that. Cool Hand and then SUNSPOT rocked that stage until it closed the place down, slamming the crowd with rough-edged rock anthems and what can only be described as superb musicianship. I was fascinated by the display of skill: they made it look so easy and fun! (I had to play piano for more than seven years before performing became easy and fun… I can only imagine what they’ve done to prepare). The “show” was good, and it was interesting to see the dynamic between musicians and between musicians and the fans.
It felt like pure escapism at one minute, but the next, simply elemental, a connection made between strangers with only a piercing glance and shared sound thumping through our bones. Discarded glasses and bottles littered the stage as that of candles in a cult ritual, the blue, red and yellow lights reflecting off the glass, glimmering like soft moonlight on water, standing sentinel.
I stayed until the end, watching and writing, talking and listening – observing, because that’s what I do now, this Cheryl who is not 23 anymore. Me, the mom of two small children, the writerly person who is seeped in sarcasm and spontaneous joy. I tried to find within me the desire to get up and dance like the rest, but it just wasn’t there anymore. The alcohol dulled my senses, and I think that was disturbing enough to keep me in my seat, maintaining tentative control over a foreign situation.
The effects of alcohol is an interesting study. To me, it felt like a slow snake venom through my veins. After the first drink, my cheeks went numb and showing expression took extra effort. My brain felt like it was sloshing about in my skull, and I seemed transparent to the crowd of rockers. They were a display of high-octane energy and enthusiasm, shared goodwill and willingness to scream along with the music. Most of the lyrics were seeped in the booze and drug-infused life of the rock and roll star and “living straight sucks” mentality, and near the end of the night, I craved sobriety more than I’ve craved anything before. I yearned for it, my drunken head ached for it.
I’ll go again for the people, for dialogues with people who aren’t in my everyday, diaper-changing, crayon-slinging life, people like Billie and Lacy who accepted so quickly for who I am. Friends made in a minute, all these people who came together for a night of communal fun and debauchery. That’s what I’ll go back for, time and time again, I’m sure.
I’ll be going again to see Freedown, Aaron Williams and the Hoodoo, and the amazing Scott Holt on October 10. This time, I’ll be bringing the husband, and I won’t be drinking. Honestly? I act more like the uninhibited rock and roll lover more when I’m sober, when I’m feeling a serendipitous burst of joy and energy at a funny quirk one of my kids exhibits, more like dancing when I’m in the kitchen in my socks with my hands soaking in soapy dishwater. I’m more likely to start headbanging when a particularly awesome song comes on the radio, and I turn my living room into a mosh pit with the kids.
Lately, I find myself grasping for meaning. What does this or that word really mean now? I mean, in today’s parlance, what do we mean, deep down, when we use certain loaded or supercharged words — words that might have meant something different a century ago, decades ago, seven years ago? Words twist and spin and reverse direction, taking on new identities and powers. Like, at what precise point in our history was “cheap” dropped in favor of “inexpensive”? Cheap used to be a good thing. Words.
1. On the self-image front, in your opinion, what is a liberal and what is a conservative? Now, careful here. I don’t care about tax-and-spend versus small government … that’s politics. I’m talking about just plain old people and how they see themselves. You. Your friends. People you know. When someone says “I’m a conservative” or “I’m a liberal,” what are they saying? What comes with each package? Were the definitions the same in say, 1900?
2. On the civic involvement front, what is an activist and what is a supporter? Tell me if you think there’s a difference in the sense that the terms are used in news reports and speeches.
3. On the musical front, what is classic rock? When did it start? When did it end? Is it the same as “old school”?
4. In the same vein, what is classical music? Specifically. Says who? Does Frank Zappa qualify?
5. Do you carry a “cell” or a “mobile”? Which is better? Do they still make “cellular” phones?
6. I hear a lot about the “environment” these days, but nobody seems to say “ecology” anymore. What happened?
7. What or who is “emo”? A Muppet?
8. Do you invite someone over for “drinks” or “libations”?
9. I’ve heard there’s an “American culture” … what is it? I sure don’t know.
10. What words can you think of that are sort of weird when you think about them?
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