Crossing over into Wisconsin for the first time, there is a sign at the border advertising "Cheese and Fireworks." In Alabama, this would just be fireworks, but Wisconsin is a state of this kind of pairing: in Hayward, the small town I visited for Thanksgiving, a sign read "Liquor and Bait."
Immediately across the border, the landscape feels different, misty and evocative. If it were a person it would be lackadaisical yet productive, one of those people who looks really laid back all the time, yet then produces most of the country's cheese.
I stopped on the way from Chicago to St. Paul to stay overnight with our friend Nathan, the only person I know who does ultramarathons, someone for whom "winter camping" is not an oxymoron. He currently clerks for a judge there. Without getting too much into his working life, it sounds fascinating, and like a lot of work. Intellectually, he has been both taken under the wing and designated as a chess opponent of a lovely and brilliant person who happens to me "untouched by Wisconsin" in personality. It was s Sunday afternoon / evening, and Nathan was at work. Picturesquely, I drove straight to the capitol building.
Nathan gave me keys and, at my request, directions to the food co-op. (This one would get a laugh from the British boy I used to tutor: "The Willie Street Co-op.") I made dinner, under the auspices of the food for lawyers program, and because I hadn't been cooking in ages -- certainly not at Pete's. There was an enjoyable pottering and cooking phase, with a Girl from Ipanema CD, Brazil in Wisconsin. We had dinner. Nathan went back to the office. I fell fast asleep on the couch. He got home. I remember saying something like, "I don't have to get up, do I?" while being half asleep, and then seeing him the next morning, when he took me for breakfast at a delicious politico hangout near the capitol. I thought the guy at the next table looked like a young John Boehner. Nathan reminded me, "He probably is." Here's Nathan "at the office":
That's right, the second one is the courthouse:
On the walk back through the capitol building afterwards, a group of activists had a great big foamboard cover of Sarah Palin's book, except it said "Goin' Nowhere: An American Quitter."
It had a beanbag cutout so you could put your head in and pose for a picture.
I give the organizers a lot of credit for not just having an idea but executing it so fully. Here they are:
I headed for St. Paul, stopping for lunch in this very Scandinavian town, going to what turned out to be a chain: Norske Nook.
Some local color from the town:
Onward to St. Paul. . . .
Postscript: signature 'photographing while driving' style takes an abstract new direction:
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