Weird Western Wisconsin

(From GazetteXtra.com, 6-23-2010)

Hoover: This is ridiculous. What are we going to do?

Otter & Boon: Road trip.

-“National Lampoon’s Animal House”

Earlier this week, I found myself in the car for seven hours, making a trip to Independence, Iowa and back. My GPS insisted that the quickest way to my destination began by taking I-90 up to Madison, and then US 151 southwest to Dubuque. But I opted to shorten the route by 21 miles and take Highway 11 west from Janesville instead. Am I glad I did; I expected a more scenic and interesting trip but was not prepared for the treasure trove of weirdness that I found between Monroe and the Iowa state line.

(By the way, when I don’t follow the path my GPS has mapped out for me, it gets very annoyed. It repeatedly implores me to turn around and go back to its preferred route. There’s something very satisfying about mentally telling a machine to stuff it, like Garry Kasparov defeating Big Blue in chess.)

The trip west was, at times, a pretty trip. Orange tiger lilies lined the highway through several areas. But the beautiful was often mixed with the odd.

First, we had Animal Odd – the real and the unreal, and sometimes both.

The real: a Holstein, lying dead at the end of a driveway, being picked apart by birds.

The unreal: a group of metal dinosaurs, set up in a random field.

The both: a dead deer lying on the shoulder of the road, while on a small hill overlooking the scene, a statue of a content lion sat proudly, giving one the impression that the lion killed the deer. I initially thought this might make for a humorous photo, but the deer carcass was just too grotesque.

There was Vehicle Odd. A standard farm tractor sat in a front yard, souped up with massive dual exhaust pipes protruding from the sides. On another front lawn, what looked like an older model blue Camaro Z28 sat with police lights affixed to the top. (Both times past, I reflexively hit the brakes.)

There was Sign Odd.

Like the new municipal hall in Hazel Green that has its name hyphenated in stone on the front (“Municipal-Hall”). Or the sign in Leadmine pointing the way to the “Primitive Methodist Church.” (I assumed it meant a historic chapel, but a Google search revealed that it’s actually a small denomination.) But the best by far was the sign in Benton advertising lawn mower races, to be held at the “Death Bowl.”

Then as I was driving through a rural area in Lafayette County, I saw this scene and immediately thought of Janesville:

These observations made the long trip much more interesting and often amusing, but it also made me wonder what travelers think when they pass through Milton or Rock County. What do visitors find amusing or odd about our area? I’m sure Bessie the Cow turns some heads, and Heaven knows I’ve heard enough comments about the three roundabouts in Milton.

I’m sure it’s all perspective. What is commonplace to us probably strikes others as weird, just as people in Lafayette County don’t find the “Primitive Methodist Church” sign the least bit interesting. But being on the lookout for the unusual made seven hours in the car go much faster for us.

Laughter (And Graduation) In The Rain

(From GazetteXtra, 6-13-10)

As I sat in the bleachers at the Milton High School football field, awaiting my daughter's graduation ceremony, my brother-in-law asked me what I remembered about my own graduation at that same location 30 years before.

Not much, I told him. It was outdoors and it was windy. Other than that, it wasn't memorable.

The same cannot be said about my daughter's.
As I mentioned in a previous blog, a questionable weather forecast was the last bit of drama we had to deal with as Graduation Party Saturday and Commencement Sunday approached.

As it turned out, we had nothing to worry about Saturday. Instead of 90 and muggy, the day was comfortable and even cool at times. But if the weather forecasters had egg on their face about Saturday's predictions, they must be hiding in shame about Sunday's.

Throughout the morning, I switched back-and-forth between the weather service web site and GazetteXtra, alternately checking the weather radar and forecast while watching for a possible announcement that the event was being moved indoors. The only reason it mattered that much to me is that it made the difference between having ten family members attend or only four, due to the limited seating indoors. (All seniors received three tickets to the event if it was held indoors. I scored a fourth ticket thanks to a neighbor.)

As noon approached, the forecast still called for showers around 6 p.m., in plenty of time to have the 2 p.m. graduation outdoors. By the time we were leaving to get our seats at about 1 p.m., the forecast had changed. Showers were now expected around 3:30 or 4:00. The “future” radar on weather.com confirmed the timing of the rain's arrival. That was cutting it closer, but still not a problem.

My sister-in-law brought her umbrella to the ceremony as “insurance,” reasoning that if she brought it, some sort of karmic law would assure that she didn't need it. It turned out yesterday's karma was today's good planning.

There was a full program scheduled, with speeches from three students (including my daughter Corinne), two choir numbers, a band performance, the presentation of the class gift, and of course, the distribution of 230 or so diplomas.

As soon as the ceremony began, what seemed like it would be a routine overcast afternoon began to turn more ominous. During valedictorian Elizabeth Camenga's speech, the sky darkened and the wind began to whip around the MHS banner behind the podium. Nervous administrators on the stage consulted with each other.

When Elizabeth finished, Principal Jeremy Bilhorn took the microphone and spoke directly to Corinne in the front row. “I'm sorry, Corinne,” he said, “but we need to skip down the agenda and distribute the diplomas now. We'll get to your speech later if we can.”

And with that, what is in all likelihood the fastest distribution of diplomas in Milton High School history commenced. Corinne was fifth in line to receive hers, and as she made her way back to her seat, the sprinkles began. At first, it was just a light rain. Then the heavens absolutely opened and we had ourselves a gullywasher.

When the downpour began, chaos ensued. Spectators hurried from the metal bleachers, some mistaking the flash of cameras for lightning. The band grabbed their instruments and scrambled to find shelter. The public address system shorted out, turning the distribution of diplomas into a quick, anonymous receiving line. Water bottles distributed to the graduates ended up being used not for quenching of thirsts, but dousing of heads. Parents took photographs using abandoned music stands as umbrellas.

As for me, all I could do was watch this scene...and laugh. Within minutes I was soaked to my skin, but I was like Mary Tyler Moore at Chuckles The Clown's funeral, unable to stop inappropriately laughing. My wife was equally soaked, with white streaks all over her face and neck from the sunscreen she had optimistically applied earlier. Meanwhile, my sisters and Corinne's grandmothers were huddling under umbrellas, my mom sporting a clear plastic rain bonnet that only ladies from a certain generation still wear.

Bleachers that were once full now resembled the attendance at a Florida Marlins game. Among the diehards that were still in the stands was the mother of one of Corinne's friends who declared, “This is the best graduation ever!” Down below on the track, barefoot girls pranced in the puddles.

When the last drenched student received their diploma, the students filed out in a relatively orderly fashion. Corinne and her friends shed their shoes and ran toward the front of the school, intent on fulfilling their plan of taking pictures in front of the newly-painted, grammatically incorrect MHS rock.

Reactions to the situation varied. Facebook updates by Corinne's friends ranged from “What a CRAPPY graduation!!” to “This is officially THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!” For the most part, though, the students seemed to find the same humor in the situation that I did. Just witnessing their sheer joy dancing in the wet grass around the rock was worth the price of admission.

The biggest shame was that we didn't get to witness the final performance of Bill Schrank, who would have been directing the choir for the last time before retiring to his fishing boat after 32 distinguished years as Milton's choral director.

I felt horrible for Principal Jeremy Bilhorn, who looked like he had just endured the longest day of his life. I hope people upset by Mother Nature's fury don't take it out on Mr. Bilhorn. An outdoor ceremony is always preferred, and with the forecast being inaccurate and ever-changing, he was in a no-win situation. If he had moved the ceremony indoors and it didn't rain, he would have been pummeled as well. I was watching the weather all morning, too, and he made the same call I would have made.

Mr. Bilhorn apologized profusely to Corinne for not being able to give her salutatorian speech, though she was not upset in the least. In fact, she was relieved. Nevertheless, he offered to have her give her speech on camera inside the school so that it could be added to the graduation DVD.

So our graduation day ended inside the Red Hawk Media room, where a small group of friends heard Corinne read her speech from a saturated page. Since her cap (and just about everyone else's) was destroyed in the rain, she wore one used by a friend's boyfriend at his commencement from Edgerton High. Her gown, the same one I wore 30 years ago, had regained its musty basement smell thanks to the sudden soaking.

It was a comical end to a wonderful four years.

Ho, Ho, Ho - A Word From The CEO

(From the Janesville Messenger, 7-5-09)

Dear Shareholder,

Those of you who are long time investors in Santa Claus Industries, Inc. know that I rarely find it necessary to send you a mid-year “Christmas in July” financial statement. However, these are extraordinary times, and due to the current state of the world economy, I feel that it is necessary to update you on unprecedented steps we are taking to remain a viable operation here at the North Pole.

Santa Claus Industries experienced a staggering decrease in revenue due to high unemployment and the eroding of disposable income, creating a budgetary shortfall that needed to be addressed swiftly. Difficult, but necessary, decisions needed to be made.

Early in the year, it was determined that we needed to consolidate toy-making operations and bring all manufacturing back to the main workshop here at the Pole. We were able to relocate about one-third of the affected elf workers to positions at the main workshop; unfortunately, it was necessary to give layoff notices to the rest. The layoffs were painful and unprecedented. The decisions on which elves to keep was based on seniority, which means that the original elves, the ones that built the Santa Claus brand into the solid marketing force that it is today, remain a part of the operation.

The elves that were brought on during our massive expansion of operations in the 20th Century are generally the ones that were affected by the layoffs. Our expectation is that, over time, we can bring these employees back into the operation as the economy recovers. I know that as shareholders, you are concerned that with nothing but manufacturing experience, current job prospects for many of the elves are limited. However, they are uniquely qualified for some specialty positions, and I am personally aware that a few have found employment in circuses and traveling entertainment shows featuring the characters of J.R.R. Tolkien and L. Frank Baum.

Also in the first half of this year, other personnel moves were deemed necessary to prevent financial losses:

· Of the elves still in our employ, each was required to take a one-week unpaid furlough during the second quarter.
· We determined that it was necessary to reduce reindeer headcount by two. This resulted in the delivery of layoff notices to Vixen and Cupid. Although Rudolph has less seniority, his departure would have put us in violation of FAA regulations that require the sleigh to be illuminated during flight.

These changes to our workforce will obviously result in a decrease of our toy output, as well as the speed of toy delivery on Christmas Eve. However, those factors will be balanced out by the fact that there has been a large increase in the number of poor children that will not be receiving Christmas presents this year.

These are indeed sad and unprecedented times for Santa Claus Industries. But the moves we have made were completely necessary to keep SCI in the black and operating in a manner that the public has come to expect. Let me personally assure you that everyone, including myself, has found it necessary to make sacrifices. I personally had to cut my post-Christmas 90-day Caribbean vacation short by three days.

Moving forward, we will be making changes in the distribution of coal on Christmas Eve during our worldwide run. Production of coal is down, and quite frankly, it is needed here at the Pole for warmth. We simply cannot spare coal for delivery to the stockings of those on the naughty list, even for those who greatly deserve it. However, one resource here at the Pole is plentiful and will serve as a “green” alternative to coal - reindeer manure. There is no lack of it to distribute to state and federal politicians and corporate managers.

Sincerely,

K. Kringle
Chairman and Chief Executive Officer
Santa Claus Industries, Inc.