Up All Night
The Letting Go lesson
Dear Readers, I’ve been living on my own for more than two decades now, and over time I’ve moved slowly, inevitably, towards a more structured existence. Sometimes I get a little misty thinking about the good old days of scoring sofas from the curbs of better neighborhoods and organizing my social life around whose car had gas or what clubs were on the bus line. Other days, I revel in my ability to make a cake without running to the store for eggs and usually having a pen and paper handy when I need to make a list. But one thing about my life has never changed. I don’t send holiday cards or annual family letters. I just don’t like the idea of buying boxes of someone else’s pictures and words, agonizing over personal notes to all the people to whom I wish I’d been a better friend or relative over the past year and clogging the U.S. mail and landfills around the country with another five pounds of paper waste. And family letters are a trap. Too optimistic comes off as false; too pessimistic is a real downer. Needless to say, I no longer receive many holiday missives, and the stack gets shorter every year. At this rate, I estimate I’ll be completely free from them by 2008, except for a few holdouts who never trim their list to exclude non-participants. Wish me luck. That having been said, and never having been one to deny my own hypocrisy, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the past year at Vital. One year ago, things were looking pretty bleak. Within two weeks, I lost my managing editor and ended an often-rocky relationship with my art director. The same month, my much-loved administrator/sales assistant/ad designer decided she needed to leave to focus on her last year of grad school. Already stretched paper-thin, I picked up the slack as best I could, which wasn’t very well. Subsequently, ad revenues fell off as I spent more time doing other things (I also used to be the sales staff) and we fell behind with some bills. By February, the wolves were at the door. At our birthday party that month, I wandered around in a state of self-indulgent melancholy, drinking a little too much and silently thinking “goodbye” to everyone who came out to celebrate with us. Afterwards, I hid in my home office for three days, wrapped in my bathrobe, not even able to get it up to take a shower or answer my phone. Mehrdad and I had a few incredibly depressing conversations about the nature and implications of failure. In the meantime, though, we felt we had to keep putting out Vital until we had a plan. So we did, and I’m here to tell you that the experience was one of the most valuable of my life. It totally sucked to operate through the emotional filter that our beloved publication was in hospice; so much so, in fact, that we […]
Jan 1st, 2006 by Jon Anne Willow
December 2005
By Jon Anne Willow Dear Readers, This is something every American should see. Gyeongju, Republic of KoreaNovember 17, 2005, 12:15 p.m. local timeTranscript excerpt from press conference with South Korean President Roh Moo-hyun Q: Mr. President, Vice President Cheney called it reprehensible for critics to question how you took the country to war, but Senator Hagel says it’s patriotic to ask those kinds of questions. Who do you think is right? BUSH: The Vice President. Q: Why? BUSH: Well, look, ours is a country where people ought to be able to disagree, and I expect there to be criticism. But when Democrats say that I deliberately misled the Congress and the people, that’s irresponsible… It’s irresponsible to use politics. This is serious business making – winning this war. But it’s irresponsible to do what they’ve done. So I agree with the Vice President. . . . ME: He must be kidding. He is kidding, right? Dissent is “using politics?” Even more laughable, when did the Bush administration grow averse to the practice? Anyone remember Bill Frist’s crocodile tears on the Senate floor over Terry Schiavo? How about Libby and Rove dropping the dime on Joe Wilson’s wife when his weapons investigation didn’t come back from Africa as instructed? We could sit around all day thinking of more examples, but let’s not. The holidays are stressful enough without rehashing our national shame. Bush’s words have already been all but washed away by Rep. Murtha’s call for withdrawal from Iraq and the Republicans’ subsequent quashing of that resolution, as well as by the president’s free-falling approval ratings, but his statement is an event of major significance. It may not be news, per se, but to hear the words spoken plainly, in front of an international audience, should at least piss you off and embarass you on behalf of your country, regardless of your party affiliation. In this month’s “We The People” (p. 31), Phil Walzak takes up another aspect of the partisan struggle. So-called “liberals” are angry with current policies that favor war, bloat the national debt and prey on the vulnerable, and yet they (we) continue to offer no alternate plan, disagreeing over details and letting conservative strategists frame the debate. We all know this, but it’s crucial we knock it off right now. Can we put our differences aside, even if only long enough to take up the mantle of responsible governance? Are we really so willing to risk our very democracy that we can’t unify on key issues? Some say the beauty of liberalism is its plurality of ideas, and this is certainly true, but when one faction seeks to undermine the very tenets of our nation, it is the sworn duty of the other(s) to defend them, and to build bipartisan alliances with others who hold the same belief. Oppression is not inevitable. We can restore our lost principles. But we have to call it like we see it and not turn away because it seems scary and […]
Dec 1st, 2005 by Jon Anne Willow
October 2005
Dear Readers, In the wake of the mind-bending chain of events in the four years since 9/11, most people who are honest with themselves will acknowledge that their political and social beliefs influence their outward behavior more than in the past. I was not around for McCarthyism; I was a child during Viet Nam, but I imagine the elevated tension between co-workers and neighbors with differing viewpoints is similar to the mood that divided Americans in those other times. Never in my lifetime have I heard people so commonly characterized by their political affiliation. “Joe in accounting? He’s okay, but he’s a conservative.” “Lisa down the street? She’s an MPS teacher, so you know she voted for Kerry.” I did not believe in God on September 10, 2001. I had never felt a Presence, and therefore didn’t believe “the faithful” had, either. I was angry at organized religion for the dogmatic subjugation of congregations by both fear of hell and the promise of moral superiority (okay, I’m still pretty pissed about that). But on September 11, when the planes rained fiery death on thousands of innocent humans, I felt, through my whole body, a great tearing, a sucking loss of life force instantly filled by a rushing wave of intense sorrow stronger than I could ever have imagined. In the days that followed, I could see my own reflection in the faces of everyone I met. We all wanted to help, to fix the horrible thing that had happened. We all wanted to cry, and we did – in our cars, at our desks and in our living rooms. Living through this, I came to understand the nature of God. God is not 19 extremists flying hijacked instruments of death into people-filled buildings. Nor is God a raging hurricane plunging hundreds of thousands of our most vulnerable citizens into a living nightmare. God is what happens in the wake of such tragedy. God is when we all really, really feel the pain together. When we extend a hand to help, giving of ourselves without considering the social or political views of those we’re helping. God is Love. We are God. And whether you affix the existence of God to a “collective We” or not, you may be starting to notice a change in the air these last few weeks. I think we’re sick of fighting with each other; (almost) ready to move past our relentless divisiveness, for now anyway. As a citizenry, we’ve got problems we can only fix if we work together. We need real jobs, we need quality schools and we need a safety net for the vulnerable. These are the greatest threats facing America now, and as more citizens are personally confronted with basic needs not met – and not prioritized – by our leadership on both sides of the aisle, I believe we will turn back to each other for answers, for hope. In doing so, we can push our will upwards and into the American […]
Oct 1st, 2005 by Jon Anne Willow
December 2004
Dear Readers, It seems like this would be the month to recount a touching holiday memory, wish everyone peace in the New Year, mention that it’s my two-year anniversary with Vital Source and be done with it. But in the words of Chuck D., I’ve got so much trouble on my mind. I’ve been trying, hard as I can, to engage in the same liberal/progressive group hug so extensively talked about in this issue. I’m trying to tell myself that given the choice between the ineptitude we knew and the vote of no-confidence we couldn’t trust, it’s not surprising-and maybe even not the worst thing in the world-that we stick with the leadership we have for another four years. But I don’t know if I can continue to tamp down my uneasiness and be a good national citizen in light of some pretty scary shit going on around the country and in our own backyard. I’m kind of freaked out about Weldon Angelos. He’s the 25-year old Utah man convicted for the first time of selling pot while carrying a pistol in his bootstrap and having more guns at home. Granted, it’s no way to raise a family, and I have a low opinion of him for putting his two young sons in harm’s way, not to mention the example he was setting. But U.S. District Judge Paul Cassell was forced to sentence him to 55 years with no probation because of the weapons possession element, which forced the case into federal court. Now before you dismiss me as a sniveling liberal soft on drug crime, hang on for just a second while we place this in its larger context. Judge Cassell himself, described as a brainy, conservative former law professor, surveyed the maximum sentences for other federal crimes, and this is what he found: Hijacking an airplane: 25 years. Terrorist bombing intending to kill a bystander: 20 years. Second-degree murder: 14 years. Kidnapping: 13 years. Rape of a 10-year-old: 11 years. Selling pot while carrying a pistol: 55 years. Needless to say, Cassell is mortified, Angelo’s family is devastated and people everywhere are starting to call for re-examination of mandatory sentences and the possibility that some violate our Eighth Amendment rights under the Constitution. In the meantime, Weldon’s plans are to sit behind bars until he’s 80 years old and his sons are old men themselves. So much for family values. Speaking of which, I have a good friend whose two sons are teenagers in New Berlin. The eldest is a senior, and he’s had his share of troubles. He’s been picked up by New Berlin’s finest for awful crimes like stealing a hood ornament off an abandoned car, leaving campus for lunch and littering in a Taco Bell parking lot (that one earned him four squads and a canine unit). This week, he received a detention for swearing. The naughty nugget? “Jesus Christ.” Yep, that’s what this seventeen year-old boy said, and the fine administration of New Berlin […]
Dec 1st, 2004 by Jon Anne Willow
November 2004
Dear Readers, Years from now, I hope to re-read this particular blog and laugh, picturing myself propped up on pillows trying to balance my keyboard on my lap, cursing over not breaking down and getting the laptop which would come in so handy now as I try to type without throwing my back into another painful spasm. I have restricted myself to ibuprofen until this column is finished, but my head is nevertheless filled with fog from the pain in my back and leg. I shift again. I cannot get comfortable. I should see a doctor. Maybe I can wait until tomorrow… It seemed like a good idea at the time. I awoke before everyone else and, as is my wont, began thinking about how I could maximize a few stolen moments of “alone time” before the demands of breakfast and soccer and an all-day production marathon took over the rest of my waking hours. I was feeling a little toxic after a long week of work, and decided a nice bike ride to my local coffee shop on North Ave. would be just the thing. I’d pick up donuts and be back before anyone even knew I was gone. It had been raining earlier, but it was fairly warm, just a little misty. I live on the east side of Wauwatosa. The residential streets in my neighborhood are quiet and mostly level, perfect for an easy ride. I took Meinecke west about three blocks past Cranky Al’s, then headed back east on North, riding in the bike lane. As the lane came to an end, I tapped the brakes. I remember my wheels locking up on the wet pavement, then the quick realization that yes, I was actually going down, then a full spin in the middle of the normally busy street, my body twisting most unnaturally. My right cheek kissed the pavement as my bike landed on top of me. I lay there for a second. A nice older lady was standing over me, trying to lift my bike and urging me to get out of the street. At first I thought the cuts and bruises on my leg were the worst of it, but as the minutes wore on, it grew increasingly difficult to breathe. Every inhale brought a stab of pain and not enough oxygen. A steel band formed quickly around my torso. I had seriously messed up my back. Like an idiot, I still stopped at Al’s for donuts, refusing rides home from several of the good neighbors there, insisting that I could make it on my own. Stupid. By the time I stumbled in to my house, I could barely stand. Eight hours later, I am sitting up for the first time. Call it instant karma. Three days ago, my art director, Tony, flipped his truck on the same off-ramp he takes every day. He’d realized too late as he took a tight turn that he hadn’t compensated enough for the wet road conditions. […]
Nov 1st, 2004 by Jon Anne Willow
October 2004
Dear Readers, An oft-discussed but little understood theory of Albert Einstein’s is that of length contraction, in which a decrease in length is experienced by objects traveling at a substantial fraction of the speed of light (at least 10� but only in the direction in which the object is traveling. Extended, this theory applies to time itself. Simply stated (and possibly somewhat misstated, so I’ll ask advance forgiveness from mathematicians and physicists here): if something is moving fast enough in a certain direction, it actually moves faster than time. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because, like almost everyone I know, I am overwhelmed by how quickly time passes. It truly does feel like the more we’re in motion, the faster time moves. The more we try to do, the more we are faced with decisions we must make that affect both our present and our future, the less time we seem to have to think about what we’re doing. Even though the physics of this phenomenon are beyond my understanding, I can identify with the thought that the faster we move, the faster time does indeed pass. I wish there was a scientific way to physically measure the speed of change as it pertains to both personal and global events and situations. If that were possible, we might find that we are indeed hurtling along at 1/10 the speed of light, the point at which time does indeed start to contract, and things are really happening more and more quickly. The next step would be to see if there was any way at all to slow the world down a bit, to give each of us more time to consider the implications of our decisions and actions. In practical terms, we could more thoroughly evaluate how our two major parties have switched identities in twenty short years. Mysteriously, the Republican party claims banner rights as guardian and gatekeeper of corporate interests and the moral well-being of all Americans, while the Democrats represent balanced budgets, global relations, smaller government and, most interestingly to me, personal choice and autonomy. Does anyone yet remember that the Republican party was founded 150 years ago, right here in Ripon, Wisconsin, by socialists pissed off at ineffectual Democrats and Whigs, both of which had become parties of complacent conservatism, content with the enslavement of blacks and the congenital economic and social structure slavery fostered? Abraham Lincoln was their leader. Trust buster Teddy Roosevelt was a Republican, too. My, how times have changed. And so quickly! Think about that on your way to the polls. Something else to think about this election season is the considerable influence of third parties on our two party political system. When we think about third parties, we think of their most colorful characters – Ross Perot, Jesse Ventura, Ralph Nader. But while no independent party has yet succeeded in gaining legal and financial status that would make it competitive with either the Democrats or the Republicans, some of […]
Oct 1st, 2004 by Jon Anne Willow
December 2003
Dear Readers, This is such an emotionally charged time of year. Colder weather, increased contact with family, insane schedules, and the pressures of our consumer economy settle themselves like a weight onto the shoulders of many. Depending on who you are, and/or where you are in your life, you might be heading towards a rush of anticipation, reflection, hope, stress, financial worry, love, antipathy or dread as the holidays approach. Or maybe all of them together. This is the season when I most wish I was a kid again. I grew up three decades ago in a small town in Iowa. Most of the year, we were the least conventional family in town. My mom was a divorced woman who owned her home, which she bought herself, even though it meant she made most of our clothes and doomed us to subsidized hot lunch at school. True to our activist roots, we were part of the “underground railroad” for objectors fleeing to Canada to avoid going to Viet Nam. Behind the water heater in the basement was a cot with a trunk next to it, on which sat a small lamp and an alarm clock. It wasn’t unusual for me as a five year old to enter the kitchen in the morning to find a tired-looking young man I’d never seen gulping coffee and eggs, on his way to the next place. The neighbors thought horrible things about my mom and her cavalcade of “male friends.” But what could she say in her own defense? It was from her example that I learned to keep secrets. At Christmas time, however, you’d have thought we sprang straight from a Rockwell postcard. Some of my dearest childhood memories are of painting wooden ornaments for our tree, making paper chains and listening to holiday music before bed, curled up on the couch with a cup of eggnog, the room illuminated only by the lights on the tree. I remember the thrill of opening the door to carolers, neighbors come to call. Despite their year-long suspicion of us, they didn’t skip our house, and we invited them in for chocolate and cookies, with something stronger for the grownups. Even as a kid, I could sense something about people getting along because of the holiday. I hope I can pass that on to my son, not just at the holidays, but all the time. In truth, people have more in common than in difference. And while I try to live and work according to my beliefs, I am not a friend of meaningless divisiveness. It’s such a waste of energy, and you miss out on the caroling. Speaking of memories, we all got to yakking at a recent staff meeting, and ended up spinning our own holiday/family yarns for each other. We ended up deciding to share them with everyone in this issue, and we hope you like them. On the other hand, you can skip over that piece if it’s not your cup of […]
Dec 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
November 2003
Dear Readers, I’m always hesitant to hail new heroes, especially when all I have to go by is a single action. With that disclaimer, my new hero (not displacing Chief Tonasket out there in Washington) is Nathaniel Heatwole. If you’ve been living in a box, Heatwole is the 20-year old Massachusetts lad who loaded a couple of Southwest Airlines flights with dangerous contraband like boxcutters and bleach on several occasions from February to September without getting caught, then told the TSA (Transportation Security Administration) about it by email on September 15. A month later, when they finally got around to reading it, they contacted Heatwole at the phone number he left them. He was promptly arrested and now faces up to ten years in prison. He claims he committed an act of civil disobedience out of concern for a lack of real airport security. The Fed, naturally embarrassed, is dying to prosecute him to the full extent of the law. U.S. Attorney Thomas DiBiagio has made his position perfectly clear. “This was not a prank. This is not poor judgment,” DiBiagio said. “This is a crime… ” Right he is. But what, exactly, is the nature of the crime? And, one could argue, who committed it? Also from the “scary but true file,” George Bush recently told Brit Hume in a Fox News interview that he doesn’t bother reading the news. It’s so bizarre that I have to print a portion of it here: HUME: How do you get your news? BUSH: I get briefed by Andy Card and Condi in the morning. They come in and tell me. In all due respect, you’ve got a beautiful face and everything. I glance at the headlines just to kind of get a flavor for what’s moving. I rarely read the stories, and get briefed by people who probably read the news themselves. But like Condoleezza, in her case, the national security adviser is getting her news directly from the participants on the world stage. HUME: Has that been your practice since day one, or is that a practice that you’ve… BUSH: Practice since day one. HUME: Really? BUSH: Yes. You know, look, I have great respect for the media. I mean, our society is a good, solid democracy because of a good, solid media. But I also understand that a lot of times there’s opinions mixed in with news. And I… HUME: I won’t disagree with that, sir. BUSH: I appreciate people’s opinions, but I’m more interested in news. And the best way to get the news is from objective sources. And the most objective sources I have are people on my staff who tell me what’s happening in the world. HUME: Mr. President, thank you very much. Indeed. I don’t even have anything to add to that. Except that the hair on the back of my neck won’t lay down. Maybe some gel or something would do the trick, I don’t know. By now you’ve probably heard that the letters […]
Nov 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
What the hell?
Dear Readers, I’d like to open this month with a question: What in the hell is going on in America? Have we been so successfully distracted by the “Iraq Conflict” and the near cataclysmic domestic situation that we don’t care about obvious attempts to undermine democratic process? So that’s two questions, but really, what does it take to make us mad these days? While America munches Doritos and consumes the laughably mismanaged Gray Davis recall like so much reality TV, 11 Texas State Senators are hiding in New Mexico (at press time), using the only constitutionally allowed means (breaking the quorum in the Texas Senate) of blocking an illegal redistricting, spearheaded by Gov. Rick Perry and House Majority Leader Tom Delay (R- Texas) and passed by the U.S. Supreme Court without legislative review. The new districting, which falls outside Texas’ legal frequency of once per US census, is a blatant effort to gerrymander US Congressional districts to a solidly Republican majority. Perry has called in The Departments of Homeland Security, Transportation and Justice to “help bring these guys back,” even though they’re not breaking the law. The Governor has indicated he will continue calling special sessions until the Republican redistricting plan is enacted, despite the fact that the Republican-controlled Texas Supreme Court recently rejected the Governor’s writ of mandamus filing to compel the Senators to return. Meanwhile, eleven Democratic state senators are exiled from their state, unable to be with their families, friends and constituents, for fear of being arrested. In the most recent indignity, Republican Senators voted to fine the absent Democrats up to $5,000 per day, and to revoke parking and other privileges for their staffs, for as long as the Senators are away. Needless to say, while these measures are mean-spirited, they have not been effective. Meantime, Ashcroft is on a stump tour of the country to garner support for the PATRIOT Act, parts of which are scheduled to expire soon. The Administration doesn’t want that, and they’re meeting with more opposition than anticipated. Of special note is that the Attorney General has cancelled his scheduled Milwaukee visit, the only stop in the state. No explanation has been given, so we must ask ourselves: does he feel adequate support won’t be found here, or is he confident enough in our habitually low voter turnout that he doesn’t need it? Read Richard Walter’s special We The People feature, “Hope Lives in Tonasket.” It’s the story of how a tiny town of mostly conservative farmers has passed a town resolution to protect the Constitution from “enemies of the state, both foreign and domestic.” The time to leave affairs of state in the hands of the “experts” has passed. I truly believe this country was founded on principles of Liberty And Justice For All, and the time has come to get off the couch and take notice. Use it or lose it: it’s a phrase never more loaded with meaning for each and every one of us. Back here in […]
Sep 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
Riverwest Rising
It’s hard to say where it started. The first “event” could be marked as the racist rally downtown last November. Add to it an undercurrent of widespread frustration stemming from innumerable social ills: a dismal economy; a confusing, seemingly interminable “war on terrorism”; continually decreasing funds for education; a less than successful attempt at welfare reform; long term high unemployment, with hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of Americans having exhausted both benefits and their savings. The list, as they say, goes on and on. In the Riverwest neighborhood, where Vital Source has its offices (as well as sister businesses Bremen Café and The Guardian), signs of unrest have been building over recent months. We’ve come a long way since the early 90s, with areas along Center, Locust and Clarke, as well as pockets throughout the area, blossoming with successful businesses, due in large part to the dedication of early pioneers like Fuel Café and Linneman’s. Home owner occupation is at decades-high levels; property values have (legitimately) increased. Children of all races play along the sidewalks as hipsters, artists and working class Joes walk the streets. Yes, there is crime here. Car break-ins are frequent, as are incidents of burglary and vandalism. But in ever increasing numbers, to the credit of those who won’t be driven “west”, or even east, Riverwesterners are doing what’s required to take Riverwest back from the brink of becoming another urban wasteland statistic. The gauntlet of hate is thrown down. So, as a community, we’ve been collectively horrified over the last several weeks by disturbing events, which, until very recently, have been passed over by both the mainstream media and, if you ask people around here, the serious attention of law enforcement officials. First it was a series of dumpster/garbage can fires set by arsonists with gasoline. Then the now publicized beatings of several residents by groups of youth, often on bicycles. Scean Rose, owner of Riverhorse, a club in the 700 block of E. Center, has reported “frequent” incidents of purse snatchings and worse outside his bar, in plain sight of patrons. In the words of John Mellencamp, it’s hard times for an honest man. People are understandably shaken. And in the midst of the crisis, the gauntlet of hatred has been thrown down. On Saturday, July 12, racist flyers were distributed throughout Riverwest by a group calling itself RAM- the Riverwest Anti-Nigger Movement. The handbill called for “you niggers to vacate all white premises IMMEDIATELY!” There’s more, and it’s even worse. In fact, it’s obscene. It was meant to frighten, to breed hostility and paranoia, to pit neighbor against neighbor. But it has backfired. Riverwest will be walking. And watching. On July 14, two meetings were held. Notice of the first, held at Onopa Brewing Co., spread by word of mouth for less than a day. Over 50 people attended, even though the meeting was held in the afternoon before many people were home from work. It was mostly younger people, and action was […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
August 2003
Dear Readers, As a community, we love the Harley. Probably more than any otherwise disparate group of mostly non-riders, Milwaukeeans appreciate the growl of the engine, the flash of the chrome and the signature emblem unique to one of our city’s greatest shared treasures. This month marks Harley Davidson’s 100th anniversary, and the party will be long-remembered. We chose to pick a little slice called the Riders Ranch, and tell you all about it. It’s pretty dang cool. Check out the story, and think about heading over. Good seats are still available. Hate has raised its ugly head in Riverwest, but the neighbors are brandishing olive branches and dancing in the streets in answer. See “Riverwest Rising,” this month’s We The People, for more about how this community has come together in the very face of division in its lowest form. This month’s Vital sports several shorter, light reading pieces. If you enjoyed our wine piece last month, check out “Morsels,” Cynthia Vasques’ quest for succulent softshell crabs in landlocked Wisconsin. There’s even a recipe. (We’re not afraid to break the mold that way…) We think you’ll also dig Bill Wandschneider’s piece on con artists, “Slicker than a snake on ice.” He joined a band of them for a weekend, living the life and learning about “the Quickness.” It’s a great story. As we go to press, I am on the way home to Iowa. On July 19th, my grandfather, Russell Rudolph Berard, passed away at the age of 83. The circumstances of his death were sudden and unfortunate, but his legacy to me, and the hundreds of people he quietly helped throughout his life, will live for a very long time. Russ was born to Italian immigrant parents in Des Moines, Iowa. He worked with his hands for the city for most of his life, eventually retiring as a supervisor. For him, this was the beginning of his “real” life in many ways. Uneducated and not exposed to “opportunity” as we know it today, Russ was keenly intelligent, political, and morally outraged at the lack of access to meaningful services suffered by the people with disabilities who fall through the cracks of social services. He spent countless hours — and thousands of his retirement dollars — in the garage workshop of his modest southside ranch home building contraptions to help folks live independently: winches for getting in and out of the shower, mouth-operated wheelchair controls, even a crazy electric leg framework so a young woman suddenly paralyzed from the waist down could walk upright. Some of his inventions were over the top, but all were greatly appreciated. His was a labor of love. He was always there for family and friends. He bailed me out of a number of jams as a rowdy teenager, never spilling the beans to the rest of the family, but “leaving it to me” to “do what (I) know is right” by telling my own parents, at least after the fact. He never judged […]
Aug 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
July 2003
By Jon Anne Willow Dear Readers, First off, I’d like to congratulate the winners of our Danceworks Summer Camp scholarship drawing and essay contest. We received lots of entries (interestingly, not one single essay) and, after tough deliberation, chose three. The winning entries are below, and black and white doesn’t do them justice. Thanks to everyone who entered. We had a great time with this month’s cover story. With the economy “a little slow” these days, more of us are looking closer to home for vacations. In our last editorial meeting, a straw poll revealed a rising popularity (at least for now) in day trips. Everyone had fave spots within a day’s drive, where one can discover the spirit of Wisconsin — from grass roots entrepreneurs building attractions in the middle of nowhere, to awesome (someone else’s words) limburger cheese sandwiches. We chose a handful of our favorite nearby getaways. We hope you enjoy our little tour. Speaking of the spirit of Wisconsin, Andrew Muchin’s piece on Wisconsin’s Jewish history is both a nostalgic look at times that once were, and a wistful reminder that the close knit community that once defined rural America is fading, never to return. The pictures are phenomenal. With the Tobacco Control Board now a thing of the past (that didn’t last long, eh?), the already fragile “tobacco settlement” allocation for anti-smoking efforts has once again been substantially reduced. And even research showing a decline in youth smoking in the state over the course of the Board’s tenure (a brief three years) could not save them. Coincidentally (?), the tobacco lobby in Wisconsin is uncommonly strong. But there’s at least one group that will fight on, whether or no they are brought into the funding fold of the new office in the Department of Health. Strive Media Institute is a full service agency (they produce the FACT anti-tobacco campaign), publisher, and producer of an Emmy-winning TV show (Gumbo TV), based right here in Milwaukee. Their work is good, really good, as a matter of fact. And the coolest part is that they’re all high school students. Writers, producers, photographers, web developers, on down the line. Strivers become leaders, and know that the only way to keep the power with the people is to understand the bigger picture. These kids are amazing, as are their adult mentors. Strive is another hidden gem in Milwaukee’s bursting treasure chest. Frizell Bailey reports on Strive and the Big Tobacco big picture in Wisconsin. By the time this issue has been on the streets a few weeks (the challenge of the monthly), a new budget will probably be passed. Everyone seems to have their pet watch areas. While it’s so hard to pick just one, I am most intrigued by Senate Majority Leader Mary Panzer’s movement to “time out” property taxes for three years. Doyle has said he will veto it, no matter how much wheeling and dealing Panzer and Dennis George (D- Milwaukee) accomplish behind closed doors. And while […]
Jul 1st, 2003 by Jon Anne Willow
