"We Didn't Start the Fire" or "Great Balls of Fire" or "C'mon Baby Light My Fire"

Big changes on the horizon. Namely, new furniture, new clothes, new toys, new apartment.

Friday, June 19th, my apartment was engulfed in flames. Thankfully, I wasn't home, but was out fishing. Not so thankfully, just about everything inside was toast/bbq/burnt hot dogs. What wasn't burned to a crisp had pretty severe smoke/water damage.

The fire department got the 911 call from a neighbor at 7:35 pm, I had left at 6:30 pm, but since I was out fishing I didn't get the message on my cell phone until 9:05 pm or so, and at that point sped home. By the time I arrived at 9:30 pm, all the action was done (I know, I didn't even get to see the show) and it was a matter of giving an official report to the fire department and going into shock at the circumstances.

The thought is that somehow the fire started in the motor of the refrigerator; it's pretty rare for this to be a cause, but it's not unheard of. It was an older house with two apartments in it so there was sufficient old dry wood, ceiling tiles, carpet, etc. for the whole thing to go up like a tinder box. Once the FD had things under control it was determined that anything in the kitchen was a 100% loss, including hunting gear, boots, GPS, ammunition etc. that was stored in a closet. The bedroom which was off the kitchen was a total loss as well, so all of the clothing and some other furniture was gone too. In the other rooms, living room & office, anything electronic or near the walls was a loss, as well as most pieces of furniture. All in all, probably a 90% loss on my personal property.

Insurance has paid for me to be holed up in a Best Western for the last ten days as I've been apartment hunting/trying to get back on my feet/etc.

Luckily, I did have renter's insurance, so there will be a check coming from the insurance company shortly which will help me begin to replace some of the things I lost. I've made some progress with apartment hunting and will move into a new place later this week (hopefully).
All the "stuff" that you accumulate over the years can be replaced, and it will be nice to upgrade the electronics and wardrobe. The insurance process has been tedious but I'm glad it's there and the adjustor seems to be decent enough to work with.

Long story short: this would be a hell of a lot worse to try to deal with without insurance. Granted it could have not happened (the preferable option), but it did, and the only option now is to move on, replacing the items I had that I need to replace, and living without the other ones. One thought is that this will make things alot easier the next time I move.

And it may not be the worst thing to re-gear for the second decade of the 2000's with a simpler, more efficient, utilitarian set of possessions.

Remedy

Today was one of those days -- you know the type, the type that keeps going and going and going. There was production -- don't get me wrong, things were getting done -- but when I finished at 5:45 there were more things on the list than when I started at 7:00.

The solution? Seeing as how a half bottle of whiskey isn't really a good call for a Wednesday; the only solution was to grab the fishing pole and head out for the first time this season. Now the fishing is good in this neck of the woods, good enough that "out-staters" (yes, you Madison & Milwaukee types, I am talking about you) regularly spend vacations in these parts with the sole purpose of spending their week of vacation in a boat.

I try and take advantage of that fact, and am hoping to spend a bit more time out on the lake this summer than I did last year. I realize I won't be located up here forever and am trying to focus on capitalizing on the assets of the locale. I still find it remarkable that within five minutes I can be the only person in a county forest, or the only one out on a lake. And since I am always traveling the area for work, I often stumble upon new spots to go check out.

So fishing, yes, I was doing it, for the first time this year.

Within fifteen minutes I was at a secluded spot (only three wrong turns later) wetting the line in Bear Lake. It was quiet in that odd way that it is when bullfrogs and birds are making all the noise they could possibly muster. But since you cannot hear the sounds of modern man, it is as quiet as it ever could be. Bald eagles were out and about soaring above, and I even caught a few fish in the clear water; so all in all a success, and just the remedy I needed after a day that offered just one too many new tasks.

I think that our Wisconsin forefathers would have been proud, as there I sat, rod and reel in hand, clad in a flannel shirt and a Brewer's ball-cap, drinking a can of Miller, watching the birds up above, and the fish down below.

The Cool of the Evening

Yeesh, after a nine-week sabbatical (the muses just weren't talking okay?) there's finally something of note to blog about. Well, not really, I've passed by many opportunities in the last couple months to get a quick post in, including: the first day of Spring, opening day of baseball season, a work trip to St. Louis/Kansas City, and more that I'm sure I'm missing, but that's life.

Just got an evening walk in and had to post about one of my favorite Spring rituals (well, all season really, but that much better in the Spring) -- the late dusk stroll. Those of you who know me well will attest that I have always been a walker. Whether it was ducking out of the dormitories at 1 AM to blow off some steam, or taking an indirect route back from the library or work, I've always been a fan of the evening walk as a way to recollect and (sometimes) make sense of the passing day, while refocusing for the upcoming one. It's also one hell of a way to try and work out a problem rolling around the brain. The Spring is an especially good season to be out though. There's that hint of freshness in the air as things are greening up again, a bit of light in the air as the sun has recently set, and an ideal temperature that calls for only a light jacket. It was a good way to stretch the muscles, clear the head after a rough Monday, and get a grasp on the coming week ahead.

Meaningless topic? Undoubtedly. Let's hope this spells the return of regular musings though. I'm hoping for a summer of documenting life in the Northwoods with some suprises thrown in for good measure.

Oh, and I ran a half-marathon this weekend, but more on that later. I'm still trying to gather my thoughts.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.

The Mallard Lodge

Rice Lake has gotten 12 inches on snow in the last six hours...and it is still coming down pretty heavily. I like winter as much as the next guy, but it's when I stumble across pictures like the one below that I could go for a nice fall hunting day.


And I don't mean a late-November deer hunting day where it is 15 degrees, but rather an early-October bird hunting day where the sun is shining, the multi-colored leaves are bright, and the temperature is 70 degrees.

Soon enough, soon enough.

Dispatch from the Birkie

I headed 45 miles north yesterday to Hayward, WI for the 36th annual racing of the American Birkebeiner cross-country ski race. The 54 km race had over 7,000 participants, and it was reported that another 15,000 were on hand as spectators. To put these numbers in perspective, the population of Hayward is only 2,100 people.
The annual event is a highlight of the Northwoods calendar, and I now understand why.

I pulled into town about 10:20, parked the car, and hustled over to the finish line (basically, they dump a few feet of snow onto main street, and cordon it off) just in time to see the winner cross in 2 hours 11 minutes. The womens race featured the sort of photo finish you see only in movies, with both racers neck and neck across the line, with a video review needed to determine the winner.

Judged on the number of participants, this is the largest ski race in North America. There were skiers competing from 48 different states and 21 countries. A 12-time Norwegian Olympic medalist (including 8 golds), Bjorn Daehlie, also competed, which is pretty damn cool. As contestants finished, the announcer would read their name and hometown. He was dropping Russias, Slovakias, Norways, and Swedens all over the place, in addition to basically any state that gets snow at least once a year.

Those that were on hand as spectators seemed to be having a blast. Exhibit A being the number of bloody marys and cold brews being consumed at 10:30 am while watching skiiers cross the finish line. In talking with some folks it seems that Saturday night is quite the party. I can imagine it being so, especially with the trans-national/international flavor to things.

I didn't stick around past the afternoon, but I'm half-tempted to pull a group together next year and make a weekend of it (don't worry, no delusions exist about myself or any of my beer-guzzling compatriots being able to complete a 50+ km cross-country ski race). Anyone game?

Oh, and lest people begin to think I am photographically talented, the pictures in this post were poached from various news articles about the event as nothing I took did the event any justice at all for what it was.

This is gonna be one rockin' summer

Spring training has officially started. And after a four hour wait in a "virtual line" on the Chicago Cubs web site I bought tickets for the Minnesota Twins - Chicago Cubs series at Wrigley Field.

Anyone else ready for summer?

Best Sport....Ever

I had nearly forgotten about the great sport of Cricket until I stumbled upon something titled "International warfare on a ball field" while wandering though the interweb this afternoon. If you're not familiar with the glories of this sport, check the link out.

I was first exposed to Cricket in a London airport while watching tv waiting for a bus on my first day in the United Kingdom. I had a chance to view the sport live a few times over the subsequent months, as well as to be exposed to it daily on television and on the Sports pages of the newspapers.

I also had a chance to play the sport a few times as well, and honestly, have no idea how to even describe those experiences. Other than to say that it was one hell of a good time.

In summary, England creates a sport and exports it to the colonies it would take men, resources, and goods from over the next 250 years. Fast forward to the twenty-first century and said countries kick England's arse in cricket every year.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.

Annual Performance Review

So I have my annual performace review this afternoon, which has absoloutely nothing to do with the general focus of this blog. But it gives me a chance to plug one of my top-10 clips from "The Office."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FjBQc2bCFk8


Which begs the question, do people still get raises when the economy is in the crapper? Or is the least I can hope for is having my "salary kept consistent with inflation?"

In preperation, I have reviewed the Wikipedia entry for negotiation .

And there goes any case I had whatsoever for being someone that uses my time at work productively.

Population: 105

The landscape of Northern Wisconsin is littered with crossroad settlements, villages, and dried-up ghosts of towns. Many of these classic "blink-and-you'll miss it" stops were once considerably more populous logging-camps or railroad stops.

You know how the story goes though, people move somewhere and create a settlement based on some sort of economic opportunity in that area. If that opportunity is single-pronged, though, when the opportunity eventually dries up so do the people.

These small villages are all slightly unique, but have much in common too. They all have a shuttered, crumbling, closed school. Most have a shuttered, crumbling, closed church too. They all at least have a bar. And then there are the 2-3 blocks of less than a dozen houses each. I wasn't kidding when I said these places were small.

The population game gets to be a vicious cycle. Kids grow up, leave because there are few opportunities, and day by day, the population ages that much more. Without young adults in town to start families, there's no longer any need for a school - and then there it is, one less reason to move to the village if given the chance.

One of these burgs does stick out from the rest though: the Village of Tony, population 105, and hometown of former Wisconsin Badger star and current Baltimore Ravens player Jim Leonhard.

The village is proud of their local-boy-makes-good. They've got a huge billboard devoted to him as you drive through town. The bar has his jerseys on the wall.

It is kind of a neat idea though, that any place, no matter how small, desolate, or empty can produce anyone capable of anything.

I'm watching Leonhard play football on tv as I write this.

The Place Where A Kid Can be a Kid...

Doing some random websurfing over the holidays, I stumbled across this interesting site, Urbangeography. It's basically a web clearinghouse of graphs, charts, and other visual items related to information. I suppose there is some sort of vague link to geography with most things posted, although not all. It may just be my inherent geekiness that made the site attractive to me, but what the heck, check it out.

Anyways, stumbled across this little graphic showing of all things police reports from calls to Chuck E. Cheese restaurants. It's a pretty funny snippet, but a little disturbing too. I don't recall any major incidents from my age 7 birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's but maybe that has more to do with the fact that it was in placid Omaha more than anything else.

I did a little further digging and found this article from the Wall Street Journal which delves a little deeper into the trend and comes up with an unsuprising culprit: alcohol. Apparently, most Chuck E. Cheese's serve both beer and wine.

The Milwaukee branch of the restaurant has even gone so far as to begin having armed guards stationed at their location. Go Wisconsin!

Unfortaunately, I haven't ever witnessed the mayhem at Chuck E. Cheese - I can see how it would be one hell of a show though. The best I can do is to recall the time I saw a family at Chippewa Valley low-caliber pizza buffet specialists Pizza del Rey that had their two children (who had to be aged somewhere from age 10-12) dressed in footie pajamas.

So where are you gonna have your next birthday celebration?

Obligatory Year-End/ Year-Beginning Post

Here it is, the end of one year, and the beginning of another. It's interesting how one of the unintended consequences of the calendar is that the end of each year triggers near universal recollection and introspection at the course that we plotted over the previous twelve months. Inevitably there are things that we wish would have gone better, tiny (or sometimes not so) failures, and to be fair - victories of the spirit as well.

The process of looking back at the previous year leads us to make mental notes of things that we'd like to see ourselves do differently over the upcoming one: resolutions. Oftentimes we don't quite make it to the point of following through successfully on those resolutions, but for some of us, we're bound to get it right eventually. One of these years, something will click, and ta-da we'll finally be where we've wanted to be for so long.

For myself, 2008 was not one for the record books. It opened with a brutal winter season before segueing into a middling summer season, and ending with a fall in which things where on the upswing. I've got high expectations for 2009, though. Both of fate and the random rolls of life's dice, but more importantly for myself. There's alot that will be up to me. This time, I'm ready for the fight.

Local Boy Makes Good

Not sure if anyone else is up on this, but Eau Claire native, and UW-Eau Claire alum Justin Vernon has taken the indie/alternative music world by storm over the last 12 months culminating with a gig on the David Letterman show last week.

Vernon's band is Bon Iver (French for Good Winter) and is part of the neo-folk movement, although they do manage to rock it out at times too. Vernon had been on my radar for years, since my early days at UW-Eau Claire, well before his current band has taken off so it has been a neat thing to see this guy I used to catch at shows as a freshman on national tv, and in national magazines like Rolling Stone, and in the New York Times, and generally anywhere you look online if the site is related to music.

The basic story behind Bon Iver's rise to international prominence follows. Vernon and fellow Chippewa Valleyians who had formed an immensly popular local band, Deyarmond Edison took their show on the road, moving to Raleigh N.C. To make a long story shorter, the band broke up, Vernon broke up with his girlfriend, and decided to recess to his father's hunting cabin in northern Wisconsin (not all that far from where I'm at currently) where he self-recorded an album and generally got his head right. Late last year, I caught one of his shows, bought a copy of the self-recorded/self-released CD and then things really took off. Things caught fire in the music blogosphere, Vernon's band toured the U.S. and Europe, played on Conan O'Brien and Letterman, and had their album named the 29th best CD of 2008 in Rolling Stone magazine.

Granted, it is not music that everyone can get it into, I'll be the first to concede that. But you have to admit that the story behind it all is pretty unique. And it's been pretty damn cool to see this guy I met early in my college career, drank down the bar from later in my college career, and saw release an album that he poured his aching soul into, achieve international fame in the music field.

Let me know if you dig it.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.

The Chance to Live a Second Life

Interesting essay here about one man's dream of building a cabin in the woods as his second home. It's not his venture that is anything remarkable (although anyone doing anything with real estate right now is somewhat remarkable), but rather his comments on doing so that struck me. The author writes of building a cabin by hand with his brother in the Maine wilderness and comments that, "Second homes are an American obsession, partly — maybe mainly — because of the chance they give us to live a second life, one that may be truer to our real selves than the first that we live out of necessity." Intriguing thoughts.

The landscape here is littered with second & vacation homes/cabins/palaces on the water. I had never really thought about the pysche of the second home. Obviously it is a place that we view as an escape, but I had never really thought about what people were escaping from. Well, besides society. But that one is basically a given, right?

The other thing that stood out for me was the authors harvest of the lumber that grew near a previous home. I've always enjoyed the idea of taking a piece of a property with you when you leave, something tangible in addition to the obvious memories. But harvesting the trees into lumber and then building another home from the product of that land? That is a whole new take on that concept.

Which makes me wish that I would have taken some sort of piece of furnishing from my last two residences to add to future ones. Especially now that one of them has been destined for demolition. Oh well, the memories live on forever. And always in the form of drunken bar-tales.

Gave it a whirl

Yesterday morning, bright and early, I drove down the unplowed highway for a return to the building at UW-Eau Claire where I had roughly 90% of my college classes - Richard E. Hibbard Hall.

The purpose for the pre-dawn visit to the alma mater was to take the law school admission test or LSAT for short. In brief -- that was one tough exam.

Applying for law school is an idea that has always been creeping around in my head -- way, way back there. I had never really taken the idea all that seriously though. It had always seemed like quite the application process for something I wasn't all that sure I wanted to pursue. Truth is, it is quite the application process, and I'm still not all that sure I want to puruse that field. What it comes down to though is that in order for it to even be an option I've got to at least take the test and send in a few applications. I figure that I will get the applications in and then force the decision on accepting the offer (assuming I could even get accepted) further down the road.

Back to the test though: it consists of six 35 minute sessions. Two sections titled Logical Reasoning, two labeled Analytical Reasoning (only of these counts though - the other is basically a placebo), one section on reading comprehension, and a final writing sample. When you factor in breaks and procedural business, it came out to about five hours worth of time yesterday.

I ran through several timed practice tests in preperation as well as tried to develop some strategies for each section. With 25-30 substantial questions for each 35 minute section, timing becomes a big issue. With each practice run things got a little easier so I went into things optimistic yesterday. The logical reasoning, writing sample, and reading comprehension ended up all being in line with my expectations for difficutly, but the anaylitical reasoning ended up being quite a bit to wrap my head around. In talking with others after the test though it seemed like that was the most difficult for others as well.

If you're curious on what the format of the questions are, there's a sample from each question type here.

Now it's a matter of waiting a month for the test results to come back and beginning to gather letters of reccomendation, work on application essays, etc.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.

Closed for the next ten days

This normally sparsely populated area is full of people today. Driving throughout the forests and countryside the roads are full of trucks pulling trailers with ATV's, their drivers' heads cloaked in that ubiquitous shade of orange which can mean only one thing: deer season.

I had a work meeting at a country cafe in the tiny village of Glen Flora, population 92. We waited for a table - this has gotta be the only time of the year that ever happens.

The parking lot at the grocery store: full. I waited through a cycle of three red lights before making it through the intersection. By far the closest thing Rice Lake will ever see to a traffic jam.

It's not a bad thing in my mind though. A nice late-fall booster shot for the local economy, and it is kind of nice to live somewhere that other people want to be - even if it is just for nine days.

All the local shops, restaurants, and bars have "Widow's Weekend" specials advertised for those left at home while their spouses head to the forests. Nevermind that females are the fastest-growing part of the hunting population.

Two interesting contrasts: the sports shop, normally closed at 5, open till 9 -- and the vaccum repair shop, closed for the next ten days.

Happy Hunting!

Eve of the deer season

It is the eve of one of the highlights of life in Wisconsin - northern Wisconsin, especially: the advent of Wisconsin's tradition-steeped annual deer hunt.

For most Wisconsinites, the annual hunt is about more than just the pursuit of a trophy rack or venison for the freezer, it is about other less tangible things. Things such as re-uniting with family and friends at the trailer without plumbing on a 40-acre spread of forestland, or returning to the plot of land which an ancestor purchased for either recreation or in an attempt to make a new go of things. It's about returning to the bond with the land that is undeniably a part of our very being, however many generations we are removed from it. That bond that lets you know that although you have the opportunity to take from the land the land also has an opportunity to give. As one city-bound friend put it: "sitting in the woods during deer season is that one time each year when I have a chance to really think about things."

And that's true, the solitude and quiet of the forest is a powerful thing. So the annual hunt is about many things to many people, for some meat and the pursuit of trophy; for others an annual respite from all else, a reunion with friends and family; still for others a chance to recollect and reconvene with nature.

For me, I think it comes down to the relationship with the land and the opportunity to be reminded that although I am no longer in a position to be dependent of the land for every meal - not all that long ago, my ancestors were - and what a unique bond that is.

Giga-waabamin minawaa

This phrase probably requires some explanation. Giga-waabamin minawaa is Ojibwe (Chippewa, or Anishinaabe) for "I'll see you again." Interestingly enough, there is not a word in the Ojibwe language for goodbye. Rather, the standard phrase was Giga-waabamin minawaa or I'll see you again. So it does seem fitting to end a correspondence in that way.

For those of you unaware, there is a large Ojibwe Indian reservation North of 8: Lac Courte Oreilles - or Lake Short Ears. An interesting place, I know some good people there, and some of the other variety as well. But you have that anywhere. I'll have to share the origin legend that the Ojibwe attribute to their arrival in Wisconsin; it's a good tale. But not now, some other time.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.

Origins

In Wisconsin lore, and most likely in fact too, U.S. Highway 8 marks a sort of demarcation point in the state. Supposedly, the road marks the line in the state where economic livlihood becomes, not impossible, but markedly more difficult. I suppose that could be the case - a disproportionate number of people are involved in practices that are tied to the land. Some in farming, most in logging. Life in such trades can at times slog along at levels just a share above subsistence - especially in a failing economy and in an environment in which building has slowed down considerably.

It is not just economics though. According to some, Highway 8, also marks a line in behavior in the state. To the southern Madison-Milwaukee belt of elites, "up-norders" have little knowledge of the finer things. I think, that rather than ignorance, it is just a choice to pursue a different set of finer things. Things like a crisp fall morning, mist rising off the water, and a sunset unspoiled by the hues caused by air pollution. Still, generalizations.

And so, this blog, in addition to a regular (semi) accounting of life, will also delve into an investigation into life "North of 8." I hope to discuss the history and lore of the area, as well as ruminations on the finer things described above.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.

It took a year, but I think I am used to life up here - in a position to fully appreciate all the things that the area, and region, both offer and lack.

What you gain in natural beauty and in unspoiled hills, creeks, forests, and vistas you lose in social and cultural events and opportunities.

What you save with a relatively low cost of living (rent, groceries, etc.) you make up for with regular trips - both short and extended - for both essentials and delicacies.

The ease with which one can find solitude has another side too, the difficulty of finding that place where one can blend in completely, confident that somewhere in the same room, or in the same building, or even in the same village, town, or city lies another similar soul.

As I've always been fond of saying though, life is a game of trade-offs in every single last choice that we make. And thus, it is true once again. The scale never truly balances, some days tipping precariously toward one side, other days teetering and tottering back and forth from one side to another. But the scale is never concrete either, leaving one the wonderment, or the dread of another day.

As I said, trade-offs.

Giga-waabamin minawaa.