Camp Milwaukee

"C" it looks like a cubs logo from a distance and I remember seeing this one day driving through the heart of Shorewood, Wisconsin.  Now through a complete twist of fate; by trying to discover myself once again, I happened upon this place through an OnMilwaukee article saying this place had an amazing bartender.  The best in the city even.

Shorewood, Wisconsin boast a plethora of newer business.  Owned by those that are going to make it because the 30-40 somethings made their wealth early and are following the millenial dream of doing something that matters or that is different.

The ski lodge like decor is a rarity in the cream city break of Milwaukee.  There is always something to me (mountain region girl and all) that is comforted by this.  There is something intentional yet beautiful about the unmeasured yet finished wood of the bar.

The crowd is eclectic.  The median age...33?  I play a pull tab for the first time in my life and I can tell you it's not as thrilling as I thought it would be.  I am sure my being alone permeates the room and takes away some of the magic.

There are a few great people I meet there.  I always love doing this in bars; a car salesman from Monroe, Wisconsin and his wife, an older couple who spent what I thought was an unimaginable amount on pull tabs, an elderly professor from UW Milwaukee who kissed me on the forehead as he left.  Could this be the perfect mesh of small town Wisconsin and the metropolitan snobbish spirit I enjoy?  I think so.

Brad, the best bartender in Milwaukee, has a certain warmness about him.  He flatters appropriately.  I left my writing notebook at the bar after several shots of Jameson.  When I called the next morning he said, "Oh you're the artist at the end of the bar."  Though, I could live off that for the next 6 months, I was praying that  he would not look inside the notebook and realize what a fraud I was.

A Capitol Day - reposted from my wordpress

A CAPITOL DAY. MADISON, WI

Posted by unfortunatetwinkie on November 12, 2010 · Leave a Comment 

The state capitol building in Madison, WI stands high above a mess of one way streets and a confused industrial neighborhood which has a smattering of hip coffee shops which sell t-shirts telling us to homogenize milk not Madison.  The capitol building itself is located on the isthmus of Lake Monona and Lake Mendota.  Isthmus, a geographical feature the people of Madtown boast on their alternative newspapers and variety of small businesses.

As a recent transplant to Wisconsin I was very interested in exploring the state capitol building.  The only one I had been in previously was in Salt Lake City, Utah where I interviewed for and failed to get a receptionist position for then Gov. Huntsman.  The capitol building in Madison did  not disappoint.  We were able to find street parking.  The parking is metered and marked for time limit; either 2 hours or 25 minutes.  It cost $3.00 for 2 hours.  Any entrance you chose to take seemed to take you right into the rotunda and the 4th largest dome in the world hovers high above you.  I was happy to see they offered free tours and that one so just happened to be starting in 15 minutes.  The highlight for me would have to be the tour guide, Jim.  A cross between my favorite high school history teacher and Mr. Rogers he fills your head with knowledge and takes you on the best adult field trip of your life.  Looking at the other tour guides behind the desk after the tour I know that they would probably disappoint.

Free tours are offered daily with the exception of some holidays.  I will be back for a visit in the summer months when the museum and observation deck are open.

Falling In Love...Again

I am an expert runner.  5 middle schools, 4 high schools, 8 states and numerous locations within them; sometimes we get so used to change it is impossible for us to ever develop roots.  When I turned 18 and I was in charge of my own relocation(s) I became an expert of removing myself from uncomfortable situations.  It usually took a couple tanks of gas and a month to month lease.  My constant bouncing from one place to another was encouraged by friends that found this behavior, "daring" and "adventurous" and "brave".  I usually developed more of a relationship with the city/state I lived in than with the people in it.  

My second stint in Salt Lake, I didn't want to leave but like most habits/addictions you do them anyway even if you want to quit, so I moved to Wisconsin.  I grew in Wisconsin.  I married a man I met in Wisconsin.  I kept my first 12 month lease in Wisconsin.  I am getting divorced in Wisconsin.  I gave a lot of myself here, Wisconsin changed me.  

The first time I ever stepped foot in Wisconsin, I was 17.  I was  visiting my brother in Chicago and he wanted to drive up to Milwaukee and take photographs.  It was March and the mugginess of Chicago did not join us when I opened the door of the car and was hit by a blast of cold air.  The streets were relatively empty and the gray sky made the buildings ominously beautiful.  There is a loneliness to Milwaukee on a gray day and I felt a kinship with it immediately. 

Before we headed back south we drove aimlessly until we found a place to take a pit stop.  There was a grocery store on a hill.  Almost like a monument.  "They call their grocery stores Pick N Save???  That's awesome!!"  Stupid things give me a thrill sometimes.  They always have.  I walked in and they were playing Brahms overhead and I found the Produce section especially well organized.  I don't know why but it left an impression. As we drove away, I remember telling my brother that one day I would come back to Wisconsin and buy something from that grocery store, Pick N Save.  Little did I know that in less than 10 years my life would take me back there and I would be living within walking distance from that exact store.  

*    *     *     *

"So what's the plan?  Where are you off to next?"  Is the question I have been asked the most after hearing about my divorce.  I am encouraged to move to any of the numerous places that I've lived previously and still have contact with people there.  I can hear the anticipation in some of their voices wanting to live vicariously from any rash decision I may make.  I hadn't even considered leaving...seriously anyway.  I even got this question from people in Wisconsin.  I finally asked why everyone thinks I am wanting to leave. ..."BECAUSE YOU HATE WISCONSIN", was the resounding reply.  This bothered me because I didn't think I hated Wisconsin.  I didn't want to convey something I didn't even know I felt.

"You don't have to hate Wisconsin just because your life fell apart there."  This hit me like a ton of bricks.  I realized that I "hated" Wisconsin because I was mad and hurt about my divorce.  I "hated" it because it always challenged me out of my comfort zone and made me face my fears and insecurities.  I really "hated" it because I didn't necessarily want to leave.  I felt betrayed by the place that clipped my wings and didn't give me anything back.  I knew that if I was ever going to break my cycle of running I had to take a stand and at least commit to developing a home base.  This caused my gypsy soul to scream and thrash in protest and I feel like half of me is disappointed.  Wisconsin makes me feel raw.  It represents all the wants that I haven't explored and that make me feel vulnerable.  Wisconsin says to me, "I will take your sarcasm and your walls but I want every other part of you that you've ignored and pretend like it doesn't exist."

*   *   *   *

"Oconomowoc"

"Menomonee Falls"

"Waukesha"

Laughter erupts from the back of the car as I try to  phonetically pronounce the names of the cities we drive past.  I am starting a new journey in another location in the United States.  I ignore the taunting. I am too mesmerized by the water towers that boast the mysterious names and the new scenery that is full of possibility.  The scenery reminded me of a never ending road trip with hundreds of places I wanted to stop just because; exploring and listening to stories of the people who lived in the homes with the manicured lawns.  

We pull up to an apartment complex behind a Family Video.  This is going to be my home.  I saw the pictures online and as I walk up the stairs I realize how large my new home will be and I feel an incredible weight in my stomach.  The spaciousness carried with it responsibility. I felt nauseousness that I would be discovered as a fraud, and I wouldn't be able to live up to the expectations that this perfect piece of Americana embodied.  

My relationship with Wisconsin started cautiously, I bought travel books, books by the naturalists, guides to hiking and biking trails and set out.  On my long commute into Milwaukee from West Bend I was mesmerized by the community storytelling 88.9 FM and knew I wanted to be a part of this community.  I remembered the lonely buildings and streets from when I was 17 and wanted to fight for it.  To be a part of the grit.  I did and I loved it.  My friend from out of state came to visit and as we were driving  through downtown Milwaukee we turned to each other and said, "Now this is what a city looks like."

I would take walks along the beach in Port Washington and ride my bike up to Eden.  I would hike and snowshoe through the Kettle Moraine.  Bonfires and fish fry in Washington county, the observatory in Lake Geneva, driving past small farms with red barns; I looked at these with wonder and warmness.

I want that feeling back, but like ex-lovers that are trying to rekindle a romance there is distrust and fear and awkwardness.  It's like restoring an antique; through the proper time, care, patience it can be as good as new.  My relationships with the places I live can be just as tumultuous and/or pleasurable than the ones I have with the people in it.  Anyway, Wisconsin...after all my bumbling verbosity, what I am trying to say is best said by John Cusack from the state that I had an awesome relationship with before you...Here it is...

The Fear of Disconnect

It is a beautiful thing to be in silence.  As I look out my friend's bay window into a setting that would make Robert Frost's heart skip a beat, I feel content to be a spectator of beauty.  There is a warm glow coming from a neighbor's window and I gaze into the house which is obviously a home.  Wisconsinites don't have fences in their backyards.  They see their neighbors to know which walls to build around their hearts.  A part of me wants to become a part of it and understood by it, but too often I find myself a few steps behind and moving to a different beat.

The feeling of not belonging is numbed by the instant gratification of social media.  I have to share this experience with someone.  I need this moment of grace validated.  A few likes and a comment later I gaze back out the window and the sun has set.  The moment is lost and I can't reconnect.  

Later that evening a friend from Milwaukee comes to visit.  We both periodically check our phones and check in on all the appropriate social media apps.  He checks in the shitty beer he is drinking and let's me know that he has had over 100 different types of beer in the past year.   

"How are you feeling?" 

"Fine"

"You?"

"Alright."

We're both going through a divorce and decided to commiserate with each other over beers.  Both of us look down at our phones again.  Houston, I think we have a problem...I look up at the other people at the dimly lit bar immersed in conversation, 10 years ago this would have been a dream to come in here and talk to people, to know their stories and become a richer person for it.  Now, I am more concerned about making an impression on the people that aren't even in the room.  

I've decided to disconnect.  I've been disconnected from the present anyway for far too long.  The decision made,

I already feel the rawness.  I feel lonely knowing that social validation is now a longer process that just two clicks and a few sentences away.  I want to reach out and have beautiful moments and enjoy other's presence and really see them.  Real connection is now going to be a learned behavior, one that I hope I can master.  

Goodbye To A Friend

There are so many things that will always remind me of you. You were one of those people. The kind of person that stated their likes and dislikes all the time; taking possession of the tangible and intangible so your memory will be forever intertwined with them.

I will never look at sunny days on the patio, the St. Louis Rams, tomatoes, smushy pillows or polar bears the same way because I was one of the people that was chosen to be blessed with knowing you. While those things are trivial, I guess the one thing I will always look at differently from knowing you is myself.

When we met I was 17, desperate to be older and you 30, amused by my naiveté. I sat in your chair complaining about boys and the latest fights with my girlfriends; always, of course trying to make myself sound more mature than I was. You would listen and nod and always made me feel legitimate. At the end of our 3 hours (enough time for a cut, shampoo and highlights) I would feel beautiful inside and out.

I always thought we shared a kinship immediately and this was reciprocated when I was finally 21 and after many discussions on NFL stats between you talking me out of not bleaching my hair blonde for the millionth time; we decided to watch football together at a local sports bar.

Through our years of friendship we were roommates, had fights and watched each other fall in love and supported each other when it all crashed and burned. I stayed with you during your first knee surgery and you gave me a place that felt like home.

The last time I saw you was the day before I moved to Wisconsin. You looked defeated. You cried. You had so much on your plate. I tried to comfort you and you told me I didn't understand. After all our years of friendship I didn't understand but I wanted to.

When I got the call I knew before anything was said. I thought at first you were finally at peace; as I write this I can only think of myself and how much I will miss you.