Life lessons, learned in an instant

(Published in the Janesville Messenger, 3-23-14)

It was one of those summer evenings years ago when the sun seems to stay up forever. One of those days when teenagers are out looking for something fun to do outside.

I was driving on a quiet country road after picking up a friend. Where we were going now is lost to memory, but this much is not. As I drove, I saw a small dog in the road ahead. It was in my lane, only a couple of feet from the ditch.

The idea seemed so good in my head. I was going to give my friend a momentary shock by pretending I was going to purposely flatten the dog. So I declared, "Two points!" and proceeded to temporarily point my ’71 Cutlass toward the dog.

Of course, I had no intention of actually running over someone’s pet. I figured the dog would quickly scoot off the right side of the road, and I would make a wide berth to the left to make sure I avoided it.

The previous paragraph should give you all the proof you need that teenagers’ brains aren’t always wired properly. When the dog noticed my car approaching, it did not take the shorter route to safety. Instead, it took off toward the house on the opposite side of the road and ran directly in front of my car, which was already veering toward the left. I tried to swerve back to the right to miss it, but was unsuccessful.

I felt absolutely horrible. My friend was livid, accusing me of intentional canicide. I tried to explain to him that it was all a terrible mistake. And it was.

Our assumption was that the dog’s owners lived in the house that the poor little canine was running to. Filled with shame and guilt, I knocked on the door to inform the owners that I had stupidly removed their pet from this world. No one answered, which actually gave me a sense of relief that I did not have to own up to my deed.

I should have stopped by the next day and tried again. If they weren’t home again, I could have left a note in their door. That would have been the right thing to do. But I didn’t do that. And the next day became the next day, became the next week, became the next month, became the next year.

Flash forward about 20 years later. I was riding my bicycle in the countryside on a beautiful day, taking lesser-traveled roads whenever I could. My route took me to that road where, many years ago, I ended the life of someone’s little dog. I recognized the scene as I approached. Thinking about what happened, I still felt the shame. Then I looked toward the house the dog was running to. Next to it was a business sign.

The property was now a pet cemetery.

When I saw the sign, I nearly fell off my bike. It felt like more than a coincidence.

My assumption, of course, was that the dog I ran over was the inspiration for their business. I do not know if this is true. Part of me doesn’t want to know.

Since that day, it has stuck in my mind that often we don’t realize how our actions directly affect the lives of others. All I can do is hope that something good came out of my teenage irresponsibility. Maybe a grieving family decided to offer care and support to others who had suffered the loss of a beloved pet, and helped them find comfort.

It’s a theme that was explored in Mitch Albom’s "The Five People You Meet in Heaven," as the main character learns that there are no random events in life, and all individuals and experiences are connected in some way. It’s a humbling and somewhat frightening thought.

And one worth remembering.

Yesterday Came Suddenly

(Published in the Janesville Messenger, 2-23-14)

In yet another reminder that my youth has waved a hankie and shouted "bon voyage," this month marked the 50th anniversary of the Beatles’ arrival in America.

When this subject came up at a recent arts meeting, I realized that I was one of only two people at the table who was alive when this moment in history occurred.

In my defense, I am not old enough to remember the Beatles’ appearances on the "Ed Sullivan Show," but I certainly remember the group still performing together as a band -- for example, seeing them play "Hey Jude" on television.

I watched Beatles cartoons on Saturday mornings and was confused that their cartoon voices didn’t sound like their real voices. (I recently discovered that the fellow who voiced John and George in the cartoons was also the voice of Boris Badenov in "Rocky and Bullwinkle.")

I also remember when the Beatles broke up, the exclamation point occurring when my brother brought home Paul McCartney’s first solo album. Paul was just a lad of 27 when the group splintered. "When I’m Sixty-Four?" For Paul, that was so eight years ago.

Although the group was a household name during my childhood, I probably can thank my three older siblings for the fact that I am a huge Beatles fan. They played plenty of Beatles music in our home, and the joy they derived from it rubbed off on me and never left. By the ripe old age of 6, I was proudly plunking down 66 cents at the Ben Franklin store in Edgerton to buy my own Beatles 45s.

The first single I can recall bringing home was "Hello Goodbye/I Am the Walrus," complete with a cool picture sleeve that absolutely appalled my mother. The reason? The photo revealed that all four members of the group had grown facial hair.

Through my teen years, I continued to collect more and more of the Beatles’ music. Forty years ago, to mark the 10th anniversary of their arrival in America, Chicago radio powerhouse WLS did a special countdown of Beatles music, which I excitedly taped on my cheap GE cassette recorder.

My record collection expanded, from the double album package "Rock and Roll Music" to collectibles like "The White Album" pressed on white vinyl and a "Sgt. Pepper" picture disc.

The poster and individual photos inserted into the sleeve of the "White Album" were proudly taped to my bedroom wall. I even wound up with the original 45 rpm singles of "She Loves You" and "Twist and Shout," released on small independent labels that held the rights to the group’s music prior to their explosion of popularity in the United States.

Many of those records would have value now, if I hadn’t stupidly sold them off to finance the purchase of my first CD player. Sure, I now own the CD releases of all of the Beatles’ official albums so I have the music, but man, what was I thinking? I made the mistake of looking on eBay to see what some of those vinyl treasures are worth now, and nearly got sick to my stomach. Chalk up another one to the mistakes of youth.

As my siblings did with me, I passed my love of the Beatles’ music to my kids. Two of their favorite movies growing up were "Help!" and "Yellow Submarine," which received repeated viewings. One of our family art projects was painting figurines of John and Paul’s animated "Yellow Submarine" characters, one of which ended up adorning my daughter’s college dorm room.

When we are on long drives to distant destinations, Beatles CDs are often the ones all four of us in the car can agree on. It’s a testament to how special they were that 50 years later, their music endures and remains a uniting force between generations.

All you need is love, and some great music.

A Tough Road to Pedal

(Published in the Janesville Messenger, 2-2-14)

Change is inevitable, and everyone has a different way of gauging just how extensively and rapidly things around you are evolving.

In my case, it's based on how I have to adjust my bicycle routes.

In the 22 years I've lived in my current house in Milton, I've seen new streets, new schools, expanded schools, new parks and new subdivisions. I've seen businesses of various sizes come and go. And I've seen Highway 26 evolve from a single two-lane road to a divided four-lane to a freeway that bypasses the city.

But darn it, when they mess with my bike routes, now that's an adjustment.

I have always had four favorite routes – one in each direction – that I use to leave the city and head to distant destinations. My favorite route was always County M southeast to Townline Road, which I then took east toward LaGrange. Once I was on M, it was an immediate shift from city to rural area.

Soon after a big ethanol plant showed up, Highway 59 and County M were completely realigned, resulting in a strange but relatively minor change to my route.

The new Highway 26 Bypass, on the other hand, meant having to completely re-figure both my driving and biking routes in and out of town. Unlike my auto navigation, however, I am actually looking forward to trying the new bike trail that runs alongside the bypass and connects Milton with Janesville and Fort Atkinson. And the realignment of Janesville Street (the former 26) now gives me a straight shot to Townline Road for my ride to LaGrange. What hath God wrought?

So when the talk started about an I-90 interchange at County M west of Milton along with a city annexation of 1,200 acres for an industrial park, my first thought was about how that part of my bike ride to Indianford would be affected. Now, when I get a few blocks past Milton West Elementary School, I am riding past cornfields. This proposal would extend the city about three miles west. Tractors and fields would be replaced with semi trailers and buildings.

Sure, I could easily just change my route and avoid it. But there's something about this development that goes beyond altering a peaceful bike ride in the country. It would be a sudden and drastic change to Milton. If my map-reading skills are accurate, it would double the city's east-west width.

From a personal standpoint, it also encroaches closer to what I always considered our neighborhood growing up, the rural area that sent kids like me to tiny Consolidated School. The western edge of the proposed development is near an area the old-timers called Sandy Sink. It also reaches within a half-mile or so of Threshermen's Park, home to the annual Rock River Thresheree. Antique tractors, meet tractor trailers.

A billion dollars of development, 24 million dollars of tax revenue, and the promise of jobs, jobs, jobs sounds very appealing. But what scares me is that the project seems so massive, especially if it is done all at once as the developers intend. And what if they build it and nobody comes? Not to sound pessimistic, but it would not be unprecedented. You may recall that an enthusiastic home builder envisioned 1,000 new homes along Highway 26 between Milton and Janesville by now. The project stalled after only 12 were built.

The decision to put in the interchange and convert this much farmland is a big step, perhaps a defining moment in the history of the city. Will it be a huge economic boon? Or a massive change to the town's identity? Or both?

We may know soon whether Milton and its adjoining townships go down this road or not. My quiet two wheels may be replaced by many sets of eighteen. On the surface, it seems like it may be a tough road to pedal.