Driving 15 miles per hour in a whiteout. Wind chill? Minus 30.
That's how I approached Monroe along Wisconsin 69 during my Jan. 8 move here from Madison.
A first impression lasts forever, and what was mine? A giant green sign off in the distance. All I could see were two words: BEER JUDGE.
My God, I thought, I'm here just in time.
Moments later I saw the fine print, and concluded James Beer was running for judge. OK, so much for that.
Still, I figured my arrival in Monroe was meant to be - at least chronologically. After Madison, as you should know, comes Monroe on the list of presidents. Next is Quincy Adams, and yes Wisconsin has an Adams and Illinois has a Quincy, but the hell if I'm commuting between the two.
Besides, Monroe is right in the middle.
And for the record, I have no interest in president-town hopping. After all, I'd eventually find myself in Clinton. Folks there can argue all they want that their town wasn't named after Slick Willy, but that falls on deaf ears.
Anyway, buckle up and join me for my first drive through town. I must warn you, my driving could be a bit erratic because my left middle finger suffered frostbite on moving day. Back in Madison, I needed it to properly mingle with the Beltline crowd, but here I envision driving tranquility.
OK, there's the hospital. And there's the Justice Center. Note to self: End up at neither.
Oh, and there's another sign. This time it says "Retain Beer." Doesn't that lead to bloating?
Turning the corner now, and here's a funeral home. Is it really named Newcomer? Well, that ought to make you believe in the afterlife.
Next stop is City Hall. Yikes! Did Mike Brady of the Brady Bunch design this place?
Time for a break, so into Baumgartner's we stumble. Ah ha! Now I've found the real city hall, complete with "conference" tables and a huge history exhibit up on the wall. Who can forget the battle of the Wines vs. the Steins?
Not to be confused with the battle of the Winesteins.
It is here I conduct my first social experiment. In the interest of being succinct - something you'll rarely find in this column, so enjoy it while you can - I asked victims/patrons to describe Monroe in one word.
Nadine Whiteman was first, using the word "potential."
She's not a native but the local teacher said she has seen great changes to the city - especially to the downtown, which she explained needed some updates and the ousting of some questionable characters. As a newbie, that came as a surprise. The downtown seems so innocent.
Good news is, she said, both have occurred.
Nadine and her husband, Troy, kindly invited me to sit with them and chat. Next thing I know, I'm learning of Nadine's great directing and choreography skills as she shows me a video presentation of grown men, in white aprons, prancing about during Cheese Days.
What did I think?
In turn, I would respond: "Well, um, potential?"
Later, I learned her brother is my landlord.
I was starting to connect the dots ... that everyone here is somehow connected. It made me, a stranger, feel at home.
Next was Paul Moyer, a native, who used the word "family."
When he told me he is one of 10 kids - five from his mother, Donna, and another five from his stepmother, also Donna, I understood why he chose that word.
He had just lost his father, but still chatted with an inviting demeanor.
To my right was Jack Reese, an old-timer who was equally friendly. He used the word, well, "friendly."
Soon, I would discover everyone who came and went knew him. And cherished him.
His son Jim was at his side, and noted I was sitting on a Baumie's bar stool he had re-created. Retired from life in the military in the Southwest, he has returned home to Monroe, and is literally back in his childhood home.
He explained how his love for his good-old-days stomping grounds motivated him to build the new stool - perfectly matching the specs of the originals - free of charge. Now, whenever a stool needs to be retired he is commissioned to craft its replacement.
That's all I needed. I understood Monroe.
In short order, I also realized most everyone here has a story to tell. This column is intended to help narrate those stories and celebrate life in Monroe. Please don't be shy to pass along to me your suggestions.
Back in the car, I headed toward my office. Wait a second, did I really just drive past the intersection of 10th and 10th? Good luck with pizza delivery in this town.
A sign for Fuzzy's looms. OK, you've got to be pretty confident to attach that name to an audio-video company. I wonder if they get any "static" about that.
Getting near my destination here, so I'll let you know I am fully aware of all the cheese history. I'm here to say I love cheese. Once ate a brick of colby in one sitting. So I won't bother with the Swiss cheese jokes. You've heard them all, and you'd only poke holes in them (snicker, snicker).
So, in conclusion, what did I see here? Other than 71,247 (conservative count) Judge Beer re-election signs?
I saw wide-open spaces, classic homes, palpable Old-World charm and a sense of yesteryear permeating about.
And I saw potential, I saw families and I saw friendlies.
I always wondered why people say "cheese" when they are asked to smile. Now I know.
- John Morton covers the city beat for The Monroe Times and can be reached at jmorton@themonroetimes.com or by phone at 608-328-4202, ext. 50. His column appears Mondays.
That's how I approached Monroe along Wisconsin 69 during my Jan. 8 move here from Madison.
A first impression lasts forever, and what was mine? A giant green sign off in the distance. All I could see were two words: BEER JUDGE.
My God, I thought, I'm here just in time.
Moments later I saw the fine print, and concluded James Beer was running for judge. OK, so much for that.
Still, I figured my arrival in Monroe was meant to be - at least chronologically. After Madison, as you should know, comes Monroe on the list of presidents. Next is Quincy Adams, and yes Wisconsin has an Adams and Illinois has a Quincy, but the hell if I'm commuting between the two.
Besides, Monroe is right in the middle.
And for the record, I have no interest in president-town hopping. After all, I'd eventually find myself in Clinton. Folks there can argue all they want that their town wasn't named after Slick Willy, but that falls on deaf ears.
Anyway, buckle up and join me for my first drive through town. I must warn you, my driving could be a bit erratic because my left middle finger suffered frostbite on moving day. Back in Madison, I needed it to properly mingle with the Beltline crowd, but here I envision driving tranquility.
OK, there's the hospital. And there's the Justice Center. Note to self: End up at neither.
Oh, and there's another sign. This time it says "Retain Beer." Doesn't that lead to bloating?
Turning the corner now, and here's a funeral home. Is it really named Newcomer? Well, that ought to make you believe in the afterlife.
Next stop is City Hall. Yikes! Did Mike Brady of the Brady Bunch design this place?
Time for a break, so into Baumgartner's we stumble. Ah ha! Now I've found the real city hall, complete with "conference" tables and a huge history exhibit up on the wall. Who can forget the battle of the Wines vs. the Steins?
Not to be confused with the battle of the Winesteins.
It is here I conduct my first social experiment. In the interest of being succinct - something you'll rarely find in this column, so enjoy it while you can - I asked victims/patrons to describe Monroe in one word.
Nadine Whiteman was first, using the word "potential."
She's not a native but the local teacher said she has seen great changes to the city - especially to the downtown, which she explained needed some updates and the ousting of some questionable characters. As a newbie, that came as a surprise. The downtown seems so innocent.
Good news is, she said, both have occurred.
Nadine and her husband, Troy, kindly invited me to sit with them and chat. Next thing I know, I'm learning of Nadine's great directing and choreography skills as she shows me a video presentation of grown men, in white aprons, prancing about during Cheese Days.
What did I think?
In turn, I would respond: "Well, um, potential?"
Later, I learned her brother is my landlord.
I was starting to connect the dots ... that everyone here is somehow connected. It made me, a stranger, feel at home.
Next was Paul Moyer, a native, who used the word "family."
When he told me he is one of 10 kids - five from his mother, Donna, and another five from his stepmother, also Donna, I understood why he chose that word.
He had just lost his father, but still chatted with an inviting demeanor.
To my right was Jack Reese, an old-timer who was equally friendly. He used the word, well, "friendly."
Soon, I would discover everyone who came and went knew him. And cherished him.
His son Jim was at his side, and noted I was sitting on a Baumie's bar stool he had re-created. Retired from life in the military in the Southwest, he has returned home to Monroe, and is literally back in his childhood home.
He explained how his love for his good-old-days stomping grounds motivated him to build the new stool - perfectly matching the specs of the originals - free of charge. Now, whenever a stool needs to be retired he is commissioned to craft its replacement.
That's all I needed. I understood Monroe.
In short order, I also realized most everyone here has a story to tell. This column is intended to help narrate those stories and celebrate life in Monroe. Please don't be shy to pass along to me your suggestions.
Back in the car, I headed toward my office. Wait a second, did I really just drive past the intersection of 10th and 10th? Good luck with pizza delivery in this town.
A sign for Fuzzy's looms. OK, you've got to be pretty confident to attach that name to an audio-video company. I wonder if they get any "static" about that.
Getting near my destination here, so I'll let you know I am fully aware of all the cheese history. I'm here to say I love cheese. Once ate a brick of colby in one sitting. So I won't bother with the Swiss cheese jokes. You've heard them all, and you'd only poke holes in them (snicker, snicker).
So, in conclusion, what did I see here? Other than 71,247 (conservative count) Judge Beer re-election signs?
I saw wide-open spaces, classic homes, palpable Old-World charm and a sense of yesteryear permeating about.
And I saw potential, I saw families and I saw friendlies.
I always wondered why people say "cheese" when they are asked to smile. Now I know.
- John Morton covers the city beat for The Monroe Times and can be reached at jmorton@themonroetimes.com or by phone at 608-328-4202, ext. 50. His column appears Mondays.