The Big Move

Laura, our 31 year old daughter moved from our house to an apartment on July 7, 2018.  She and her male cat, Lennie, lived in one apartment until 2014.  She was laid off her job and moved back with us, her parents, until this year.  She now has a job where she believed she makes enough money to support her and her cat while paying rent.  This led to her decision in May to move to an apartment.

The first step in moving is to find an affordable apartment in a nice neighborhood in the Madison area.  The task sounds easy but is  not.  Apartment vacancies in Madison and the surrounding areas are less than 5%.  Having a major employer paying premium wages in the area, EPIC Systems in Verona, and thus driving up apartment rents, make it that much harder.

Laura and her mother, Jean, started the apartment viewing in June.  They toured two apartment complexes in one day.  The first apartment had a cheery guy stating the apartments were clean, kept up, and some of the best in Madison.  A tour of one of these apartments demonstrated the guy was either drunk, on drugs, or blind because the apartment was dirty and disgusting.  The second apartment complex in Middleton was a large complex where the person showing the apartments transported people in golf carts.  The showing of this complex at first impressed Laura but later, after visiting it again, made her reevaluate her initial assessment.

I was added the apartment finding contingent in the next round of apartment hunting.  We first viewed a loft apartment in a smaller building.  I did not know what a loft was but found out it was a no bedroom apartment with an upper story having a bathroom and enough room for a bed.  On that same day, we viewed a brand new apartment complex.  The cheapest apartment was an efficiency meaning there was barely room to put a bed.  Although the efficiency was nice, the location was not and so that apartment was removed from consideration.

The first decision was then made to go with the loft apartment for a number of reasons.  The apartment was located near work, the cat was allowed to stay for no additional charge, it was located in a safe neighborhood, a storage area was provided at no additional charge, and her car was housed in underground parking under the apartment building.  The apartment was also located about five miles from our house so the move would not take long as far as distance.

The apartment needed some work before she could move in.  The prior residents failed to pay rent and left in the cover of darkness.  For some reason they left a large amount of food.  The refrigerator contained steaks, eggs, condiments, milk, etc.  The cupboards held two types of flour and sugar.  Despite the lease stating no smoking, there was a definite smoke smell.  One of the prior residents had colored their hair red and the dye was located in the bathroom and an area of the carpeting.  The carpeting needed shampooing and the whole apartment needed paint.  Erin, the apartment manager, assured us the food would be gone, the place painted, and the carpet shampooed by the end of June because she had an outstanding maintenance guy.  Erin was true to her word and the apartment was ready for occupation on July 1st.

The next big move decision was how to get Laura's belongings from our house to the apartment.  Jean and I toured our house to assess what needed to be moved.  Laura had a large number of boxes in the basement, her bed and clothes in her upstairs bedroom, and another series of boxes in a spare bedroom.  We looked at the boxes in the basement which had to be hauled up a flight of stairs in our house, her bed which had to be hauled up a flight of stairs in her apartment, and decided we did not want to climb up all of those steps.  Because I had a knee replaced in November 2017 and Jean was looking at a hip replacement later this year, we decided our moving days were over and we would hire someone to complete the move.

I then contacted three moving companies in Madison: Above Average Movers, You Move Me, and Badger Brothers Moving.  I received quotes from all three.  The quotes were similar in that the company would supply two movers and a truck.  You supplied the movable items and the money to pay for the move.  Each of the three companies had excellent credentials on the Internet and so it came down to a matter of price.  Badger Brothers Moving was slightly cheaper and we decided to go with that company.

The move was scheduled for July 7th.  From June 29th through July 7th, excluding July 4th, we worked at getting things organized at home and the new apartment.  On June 29th, Laura was notified by Erin the apartment was painted, the food left by the former occupants was gone, and the carpets were cleaned.  She handed Laura the keys and we began getting the apartment ready for her occupancy.  The bathroom had to be cleaned, kitchen cupboards padded with contact paper, and the carpeting recleaned because it still retained that cigarette smoke odor.  All of the tasks were completed by July 6th.  We were now ready for July 7th.

Promptly at 8 a.m. a large unmarked truck pulled up to our house.  The truck was too big to back into the driveway and so parked in the street.  The truck was large enough to hold furniture for an entire house. 

Rather than two burly guys walking up to the house from the truck, there were two average medium height guys.  They walked into the house and introduced themselves as Ben and Andrew.  They then got to work.  Ben hauled boxes to the truck while Andrew carefully wrapped bubble wrap and blankets around furniture.  After Andrew completed the wrapping then he assisted Ben in loading boxes and furniture into the truck.  Ben and Andrew worked steadily for two hours and never took a break.

Ben and Andrew then drove the truck to the apartment.  The apartment was on the second floor.  The loft required climbing another staircase.  Ben and Andrew worked steadily for two and a half hours.  They moved the boxes and the furniture into the apartment.  They also set up the bed in the loft.

After the four and a half hours of lifting and climbing steps, Andrew and Ben admitted they were slightly tired but after eating a meal they should be ready for the evening.  We marveled at how good a shape each of them were.    After paying the Badger Brothers Moving fee and giving Andrew and Ben a tip, Ben and Andrew and the large truck left.

We were then left to unpack boxes, hang pictures, and get the cat organized. All of this work took three days to complete.

Everything was accomplished.  Jean and I again are empty nesters.  Laura is in her apartment.  The cat is happy as long as it gets fed twice a day.

Hamilton Street Dilemma

I was to attend a meeting of former and current DNR folks at a local eating establishment, the Great Dane located in downtown Madison on May 30th.  Although the Great Dane serves food the real enticement is the beer they brew on-site.  The beer helps in discussing past and current DNR trials and tribulations in a small or large gathering of DNR folks.

Driving a car from outside downtown to downtown and then finding a parking place is always an adventure in itself.  Downtown at any time of the year is being constructed or destructed.  In 2018 the destruction/construction occurs along the major traffic routes.  For me, I had to negotiate construction on West Washington and then determine how much of the one way streets around the capital were drivable because of the city's $156 million Judge Doyle Square project which, it just so happens, part of it is happening next to the Great Dane.

My 4 pm route took me past the construction barrels on West Washington, turning right at the stoplight on Fairchild Street, and stopping at the stoplight on Hamilton Street, and then continuing on to a parking place and the Great Dane.

I stopped at Hamilton Street on a yellow light not wanting to enter the intersection on a red light due to a better than even chance a cop could be on the corner  because the east side of Hamilton and Doty Street houses the Dane County Courthouse.  The police are known to be liberal in handing out tickets in downtown Madison.  I also noticed a police officer on the corner, an old lady pushing a walker, and another old lady pushing a guy in a wheelchair.

I stopped in the right lane and the guy in the left lane two cars back did not appreciate people stopping at the stoplight.  He immediately was on his car horn.

Beep. Beep.

The loud, obnoxious horn was continuous.

Hamilton Street going west up the street  has a rather steep incline.  The Hamilton Street and Doty Street intersection is also wide at the intersection.

Both the old lady with the walker and the old lady pushing the guy in the wheelchair wanted to get across the street and had to negotiate the grade to get to the other side of the road. The old lady with the walker went first followed 20 yards later by the old lady pushing the wheelchair.  They both struggled going up the hill through the intersection.

The stoplight turned from red to green.  Neither party was across the intersection.  The guy with the horn continued.  Beep! Beep!

The young cop viewing the situation from the corner of the intersection was trying to decide how to intervene. He had a dilemma.  He paced back and forth.  You could see the indecision on his face.  He could see the old ladies struggling to get through the intersection and hear the guy with the horn. Should he direct traffic?  Should he help the old lady with the walker or the old lady pushing the wheelchair?  What should he do about the guy with the incessant horn?  He walked along the side of the intersection trying to decide.

Beep! Beep!  The guy with the horn refused to stop.

The cop decided he had enough of the guy with the horn.  He walked out into the intersection as the old lady with the walker and the old lady pushing the wheelchair continued to struggle across the road.

The cop walked into the intersection and pointed to the car with the horn, "Stop the horn. Now!", he commanded.

The car horn stopped.  The light turned red.  The two old ladies continued their struggles and finally accomplished their goal of reaching the other side of the road.   The cop stood in the road glaring at the car emitting the car horn annoyance.  He walked back to his original spot on the side of the intersection as the light turned green.  The intersection was finally cleared and I could proceed to find a parking place so that I could attend my meeting at the Great Dane.

It might not be believable but other events happen in downtown Madison other than construction and politics.

Snow Job

In Wisconsin everyone knows the quote "in Wisconsin there are two seasons construction and winter". The winter part of the quote infers a large percentage of the year is cold and snowy. Some people reposition the snow manually while others get mechanical help.

For many years I toted the newly fallen snow  from one location to another manually.  About 15 years ago the family decided that I needed help and they bought this one stage Toro snowblower for me.  The Toro performed admirably until five years ago when it came upon a mountain of snow at the foot of our driveway piled there by a huge city-owned snowplow.  The Toro succumbed to the snow pile and burned up.  The Toro was brought to a nearby small engine center and the owner said at its autopsy that it was not repairable.

After the Toro went to the great junk yard in the sky, the family authorized me to find a replacement.  Knowing the Toro was too small to handle six foot snow piles at the end of the driveway, we purchased an Ariens 22 inch two stage snow blower.  We were assured by the salesman the Ariens would handle any mountain of snow  the city placed in front of the driveway.

The Ariens was a challenge from the beginning.  It would not start.  The procedure to start it was to turn the key, prime the carburetor, and then either pull the rope or push the button for the electric start.  Occasionally the Ariens would start and just as soon stop. After a half hour of frustration, the Ariens was placed in its comfortable garage location and then I would shovel the snow manually.

The Ariens was driven back to the dealer for repair work.  The Ariens was a heavy machine.  It took two people to load it into the back seat of our Honda minivan and then another two people to unload it at the dealership.  The dealership would look at it, proclaim nothing was wrong, and then call to tell me to pick it up.  I would return with the Ariens, it would snow and again it would not start.  We would then take it back to the dealership and the whole circle of repair would begin again.

The circle of repair happened three times.  I told a neighbor about the continued frustration regarding the Ariens.  He suggested I bring the Ariens to a different dealership where they had people with technical degrees in small engines.  I did as he suggested.

The new people stated the problem was with the carburetor.  Ariens outsources some of its parts to China.  The Chinese may be adequate in a number of areas but snow blower carburetors was not one of them.  The new guys rebuilt the carburetor, with a cost, and the Ariens at the end of the snow season two years ago finally started up with a small amount of  effort.

Since the carburetor was rebuilt, we have not had a major snowstorm.  A fixed Ariens snow blower scares the major snowstorms away.  This winter the Ariens kept the snow away until March and April.

In the middle of March we had a snowfall where the Ariens could move some snow.  I started the Ariens up and we went after the snow.  After about 30 minutes of snow blowing the Ariens decided to push the snow.  Snow was no longer blown out of the chute.

My neighbor and I looked at the Ariens.  We looked at the shaft which augurs the snow to the chute.  It was broken in two.  My neighbor was amazed because he never saw anyone break a shaft in two.  He admired my skill and suggested that I tried to blow a tree through the chute and that is why the shaft was now in two pieces.  I try to avoid trees whether I am riding a bicycle or snow blowing and so I thought his claim was a little suspect. However, he has two snow blowers to my one and so I guess he is wiser than me and I accepted his explanation.

The Ariens again went back to the new dealership to have the shaft replaced.  It took them three weeks to repair the Ariens and $300.

The Ariens returned just in time for the last snowstorm of the season in mid-April.  I pulled the starter rope and the Ariens ran on the first pull.  That was great.  I then pointed the Ariens to the snow.  The augur ran but nothing came out of the chute.  The Ariens again pushed the snow up the driveway.

My neighbor came over and we again checked out the Ariens.  We compared the Ariens to a similar unit of another neighbor.  From our comparison it appeared the new dealership reversed a plate where the augur pushes the snow to the chute.  That plate blocked the snow rather than allowing it to be ejected through the chute. Consequently, the Ariens pushed the snow rather than blowing it.

The Ariens returned to the new dealership for a correction.  The Ariens returned to its comfortable garage spot a week later after the plate was reversed.  By that time the snow season was over and so I do not know if it will blow the snow or push the snow until the next major snowfall.

So sometime in late 2018 or early 2019, the Ariens snowblower and I will assault a city-developed snow pile.  If the Ariens starts and I can point it to the snow, the snow may actually blow out of the chute.  Of course if the tires do not work then I will be back to manually removing the snow.

Gardening

Despite the 3 inch April 3rd or five inch April 15th snowfall, people do occasionally say the word "spring" in conversation.  When I hear the word "spring", my mind returns two words "gardening" and  "failure".  My parents taught me well how to be a failed gardener and I lived up to those lofty expectations over the last 38 years.

Gardening was an activity my parents completed every year with a dogged determination.  One reason to garden was to provide food for five kids, four boys and one girl. Another reason, the more important reason, was to save money on food despite the fact thy both had jobs and had enough income to buy what was produced in the garden from a grocery store.  When you factor in the time, cost of seed, and the amount of failures, I doubt that our garden production was much cheaper than buying it at the store. The produce from the garden might have been cheaper due to cheap labor from the kids, of course, if the garden produced some type of edible product.

In the early years, my dad had a garden located in back of the house.  He planted peas, beans, corn, potatoes, radishes, lettuce, kohlrabi, tomatoes, and Swiss chard.  The soil was not very fertile but he and my mother worked hard to have the garden produce something.  My dad even invested money in a rototiller so the soil would be at optimum consistency for plant growth.  He would always have some plants produce vegetables while others failed.  The failed plants and the successful plants each year were different.  The difference depended on the weather, animals, and the kid's routes through the garden taken to retrieve balls or visit friends.

Allow me to supply more information on the rototiller. A rototiller is a contraption consisting of blades in the front with a mounted gasoline engine.  The gasoline engine powers a belt turning the blades of the machine which then dig into the ground and loosen the soil.

We had this rototiller for many years and it churned soil in gardens in back of the house,  the House Garden and a later, larger garden a block away, the Depot Garden.  Anyone using the rototiller would become tired after a limited amount of  time because as the rototiller churned dirt that was either extremely or mildly compacted, the rototiller would buck like a crazed horse.  Keeping it in line required a lot of energy from the attending person. Neither my parents, mainly my dad, or us kids, when we were old enough to steer the rototiller, were enthused about operating it.

We suffered while operating the rototiller for a number of years until near the end of its useful life.  One day a neighbor borrowed the rototiller to complete some work in his yard.  He returned the rototiller and said he "fixed it".  He explained fixing it meant changing the direction of the blades.  He said we would notice a marked improvement in performance.  We did.  No longer did the rototiller buck but it dug into the soil and tilled it without much effort.  My dad, who passed along to me his lack of  mechanical ability, was astonished and could never explain why the blades were installed the wrong way and kept that way over many years of gardening.

My dad was not happy with the production of the House Garden decided one year to move the garden.  The production of the House Garden was hampered by soil infertility and the kids playing whiffle ball, softball, hardball, and football also in the same area.  The garden had trouble producing when the plants were trampled.

My dad was a railroad agent and the depot where he worked was a block from our house.  Someone, whether it was the railroad or someone else, had a large area in back of the railroad depot that was swamp. (Today a house sits on our garden spot.)  My dad decided it was an excellent spot for a garden.  The new Depot Garden was 3 times larger than the House Garden.  In addition to the items planted in House Garden he added strawberries, raspberries, and rows of tomatoes. 

The people located next door to the Depot Garden where in a descriptive word, "weird".  Doctor Gene, his wife Daisy, and their vicious dog peered at us as we toiled on the Depot Garden.  Doctor Gene was tall and slight and no one ever knew why he was called Doctor Gene.  He watched us as he worked in his garden while  Daisy  sang off-tune church hymns.  The dog would be constantly growling.

 Our family was always on the cusp of terror.  What would happen if Doctor Gene's dog got loose and decided to visit the garden?  Who would die first?  This concern worked its way out when I went to college.  Daisy died first.  Doctor Gene died a few years after Daisy.  The day after Doctor Gene died the police department was summoned  to take the dog to the pound.  The dog did not cooperate and attacked the cop. In an act of self-defense, the cop shot the dog.  To our family members the death of the dog allowed us to relax while working in the garden trying to avoid sunstroke and mosquitoes.

The Depot Garden was much more productive than the House Garden.  The problem with the Depot Garden was the time needed to make it productive.  We had to keep weeds from assaulting the strawberries, raspberries, beans and other produce .  We also had to hill rows and rows of potatoes. Most of this work was done in the late afternoon when the air in the garden was cooler.  However, when it was cooler the mosquitoes descended on the Depot Garden in swarms and it was pure agony working  even with liberally applied mosquito spray that did not deter the mosquitoes but made you a target. If the mosquitoes were absent then other insects, snakes, spiders, and mice took their place as a distraction.  For example,  the snakes liked to climb the raspberry bushes to sun themselves.  If you were removing weeds and counting the minutes until sundown, looking up and seeing a snake made your heart move a few more beats per minute.

We had an over-abundance of produce from the Depot Garden.   My parents, led by my mother, spent a good part of their extra time in September and October canning.  The big item for canning was tomatoes although pickles were canned when the tomatoes were ripening and awaiting their turn.  They canned tomato juice, stewed tomatoes, whole tomatoes, and some other concoctions with a tomato base. 

The kids, who could not escape working on the tomatoes, were employed grinding par boiled  tomatoes so the seeds were captured and the remainder of the tomato became juice.  At first my parents tried the deception that grinding tomatoes was fun.  This deception worked for the first bushel of tomatoes.   After the first bushel the grinder saw through the deception and quickly determined cranking tomatoes was tedious and hot and knew the only reason they were grinding was because my parents did not want to do it themselves.  The grinder then snuck away using excuses such as going to the bathroom or doing homework even if school was not in session.  As we got older, we got wiser and did not go anywhere near the kitchen when bushels of tomatoes were sitting outside the door. My parents were then left to grind tomatoes for some nights into the wee hours of the morning.

As a kid one learned to love, or at least tolerate, tomatoes after a successful tomato canning season.  Tomatoes of some type were incorporated into most at home lunches and dinners.  I do know people that cannot stand eating tomatoes or tomato byproducts today.  I wonder how they ever got away with this tomato avoidance when they were younger.

Even the Depot Garden had failures. However, the kids did not feel a failure was bad because the failed plants would not need weeding.  Failure would allow more times to pursue fun activities such as playing ball and sleeping.

That was many years ago.  Currently, our house has much less area and is even more infertile than my parent's House Garden.

The infertility of the land was a surprise to me because a farm was located here before the subdivision was built. You would think the soil would be fertile from the nutrients furnished by the farm animals.  In the first years of owning the house, I tried a garden in the southwest corner of the property, a garden along the west side of the house, and a garden on the southeast corner of the property.  All of the gardens were miserable failures.  The reasons for failure besides the infertile soil was lack of sun, too much sun, and lack of rain.

But I have continued trying to get something to grow. 

"Why?", do you ask.  "Madison has the best farmer's market.  He can buy all the stuff he tries to plant and someone else would have all of the headaches!"

To be perfectly honest, I have asked that question to myself many times.  I guess it has something to do with the House and Depot gardens of my parents.  I want to think I have the ability to grow something edible even if it does not turn out that way.  I believe, which over time has not been true, that I can fail less than my parent's two gardens.

My garden now consists of four boxes filled with dirt.  Because the boxes are relatively small I can add the nutrients the plants need to grow without adjusting the nutrients to account  for the many rocks in the soil. The four boxes sometimes grow beans, tomatoes, and lettuce.  Failures include raspberries, squash, cucumbers, and melons.

Not all of the failures can be blamed on the boxes.  We have an assortment of critters that attack the boxes. All of this occurs in a city.  We have rabbits the size of small gunboats,  opossum, squirrels, chipmunks, and birds.  They stage attacks at different times during the growing season and their attacks are usually successful destroying most of the plants starting to grow or growing at that time.  I have tried to erect barriers around each box over the last few years using chicken wire and PVC pipes.  This prevention has not worked.  This year I will need to construct something using wood, which is not something I am looking forward to nor good at doing.

Because of all the failures, I have decided to acquire some expert help.  I view YouTube.  One guy advised to buy a sack of MiracleGro potting soil, plant some seeds, and place it in some sun.  Voila, the plants grow and give you endless produce.  I tried the suggestion and the rabbits ravaged the plants shortly after the seeds came up producing a lot less than the guy in the YouTube video advertised. Another guy showed you how to grow vegetables in a bucket. I had some success with that approach although the buckets were used as a rearing spot for  an impressive number of spiders. Some of the YouTube presenters also had innovative, odoriferous ways to prevent animals from attacking the garden. I don't think spraying urine around the yard would be acceptable to my neighbors.  The YouTube presenter did not mention in his video where his property was located in relation to a neighbor.  Perhaps his neighbors left after his garden protection spraying. 

I also have books on the subject.  Mel wrote two books on square foot gardening.  He divides his boxes into square foot blocks.  He then plants different plants in each square foot box.  The pictures in his books are flawless.  I tried doing what Mel wrote and the problem is that some of the plants are more aggressive than other plants.  The aggressive plants shade out the more timid plants and killing or limiting the size of the companion plants. A picture of my square foot garden would not make Mel's book.

I do have some hope this year, as I do every year.  I do have an electric rototiller with the blades turned in the right direction.   I can work nutrients into the soil with the rototiller.  I have more time because I am not working.  My neighbor across the street has been aggressive in reducing the number of rabbits, opossum, squirrels, and chipmunks.  As a resource my parents never had, I still have Mel and YouTube.

So, hope springs eternal; that is if spring ever comes.

Perhaps I will have some success this year.  However, I have to be realistic after all of these years of gardening and expect failure. As Winston Churchill said:

"Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm."

If that quote is true then I am very enthusiastic.

 

Jury Experience

It happened.  After all of 38 years working, voting, and living in Dane County, Dane County wanted me as a juror.  On January 31, 2018 Carlo Esqueda, Clerk of Circuit Court, sent a letter summoning me as a juror to Dane County Courthouse, Room L1000 - Lower Level, 215 Hamilton Street, Madison on March 5, 2018 at 8:15 am. I was designated as Juror ID Number: 1440, Pool ID Number: GR09, and Pool Member Number: 207.   Further Juror ID Number: 1440 was required to call a telephone number on March 1, 2018 to determine if Carlo still needed Juror ID Number: 1440.

Dane County also summoned my younger daughter, Amy, as a juror, at the same time they wanted me.  She voted on and off in Dane County since graduating from Madison Memorial High School.  She now lived in Milwaukee.  I was puzzled as to how the Dane County computers found her when she had voted less than 10 times in Dane County while I had completed my Dane County civic duty a number of times over 38 years and they failed to find me until this year.  My wife forwarded Amy's summons to her through the mail.  She called a number printed on a special pink insert with the jury summons containing more detailed information.  She was dismissed by someone over the telephone because she now lived too far away from Dane County. 

I had some experience with juries when I lived in a suburb of Chicago because I was part of a Cook County jury in 1979 .  The Cook County Courthouse where I was summoned was a drab building and a large percentage of the building consisted of the Cook County Jail.  However, it had some space for jury trials.  I was picked to serve on a murder jury trial.

The jury trial was about a guy who lived with this woman --we never knew if they were married or not.  One night the guy decided he no longer wanted to live with the woman.  One night they were sleeping in the same bed.  While she was asleep he got out of bed and walked over to a nightstand.  On the nightstand he had a knife.  He took the knife, stabbed her multiple times, killing her.  He then decided he needed to do something with the body so he could get some sleep.  He loaded her body into her car, drove over to a forest preserve, and threw her body into a dumpster.  He then drove back to his/her apartment and went to bed.

The next day a forest reserve employee found the body and called the cops.   The guy was arrested seemingly after he had a good night's sleep.

The question of whether he killed the woman was never in doubt.  What our jury had to decide was, "Was the guy's action premeditated?"   If the actions were premeditated then he would receive a longer jail sentence.

The trial lasted for three days.  Fortunately the jurors could go home after each day of testimony rather than being sequestered in some dingy Cook County hotel.  The defense argued the guy killed the woman because he had a rage of passion. The Cook County attorney argued the guy planned the stabbing all along.

Finally, on the third day the jurors were allowed to meet and determine the guy's fate.  After three hours we determined the killing was premeditated because he had to walk across the room to fetch the knife.  If it were a crime of passion, he should have used a different means of killing her, such as suffocation. Our jury was very analytical as far as the subject of premeditated murder.

Our jury foreman gave the result to the judge.  The judge read the decision to everyone in the courtroom.  After the judge read the judgement, the guy was whisked out of the courtroom showing no emotion over the guilty verdict.  The judge then thanked everyone for their time and attention.  We were then dismissed.

That was my first and last time as a juror until the letter from Carlo. My Dane County experience was much different than my Cook County experience.

I called the number on the jury summons on March 1st.  The recorded information said they needed all jurors in GR09.  You should call back on Sunday, March 4th and find out if they changed their mind.  I called the number on Sunday and nothing changed from Friday.  Dane County needed everybody in group GR09 on Monday, March 5th at 8:15 am.

I took a city bus downtown on March 5th.  I was a little out of practice using a bus and missed an earlier bus.  The earlier bus drove down the street blissfully unaware of me as I watched four houses from the bus  stop yelling to flag down the bus.  I made sure I was picked up by the next bus 30 minutes later and I arrived downtown at 8:08 am. I then walked to the Dane County Courthouse building.

As I walked to the courthouse, I was joined by a large crowd of people also walking to the courthouse.  The number of people walking to the courthouse was analogous to the number of people walking to the Kohl Center for a Badger basketball game.

All of these people had to pass through security before entering the building.  The line to get through security was out the door and almost into the street. 

The Dane County Courthouse's  security setup was similar to an airport's security setup.  The security setup was manned by four people, two men and two women. The women commanded the X-Ray machines.  One man stood in back of the X-Ray door portal. The last guy watched and approved the building employees as they proceeded through security. For the non-employees, your belongings needed to pass through a belt conveyor X-Ray machine and your body had to pass through a door X-Ray machine.   The employee entrance security procedure was simply showing an ID to the guy overseeing the employee entrance, giving this security guy a smile, and passing through without passing through any
X-Ray machines.    

As we walked up to the security area, the woman sitting on a chair watching the X-Ray doorway rattled off instructions.  "All of your possessions go into the gray boxes.  All coins, jewelry must be placed in the containers.  Anything metal!  That includes your belts.  Once you put these items into the bins, place the bins on the belt to the X-Ray machine.  You must then pass through the X-Ray doorway."

That was quite a mouthful of instructions to say in one breath.  She added, "Thank you."

All of this was said by a person who had repeated these instructions innumerable times before.  She was very bored and did not look particularly happy.

The woman in front of me also placed her belongings in the gray box and stepped through the X-Ray door portal.   She then retrieved her belongings after the X-Ray door portal offered no comment.

As I approached the security area, I placed all of my personal belongings, coins, watch, backpack and belt, on the X-Ray machine belt.  The X-Ray machine passed the material through and was satisfied.

Next I stepped through the X-Ray door portal and as I passed through, bells and whistles went off.

"What did you do to my machine!", exclaimed the woman overseeing the X-Ray door portal. I hoped she was jesting but I was not sure.

"Nothing. I had my knee replaced in November", I offered. "I have metal in my  left knee and left foot."

"You have what!", she yelled.

I repeated the information about my left knee and foot.

"Oh, you are one of them."

She looked at me and looked at the guy standing behind the X-Ray portal and ordered loudly, "Wand him!"

The portal guy then took over.  "Sir, please walk through the door.  Place your hands above your head, face me, and take a wide stance with your legs."

I walked through the X-Ray door holding my pants up with my right hand.  I hoped the pants without the belt would stay up when I had to raise my hands above my head.  I also wondered what would happen if the wand would start beeping.  Would I be disqualified from jury duty or thrown in jail?

Much to my relief, the wand did not beep as the X-Ray portal guy completed his wanding task by starting at the top of my body and gradually working his way to my feet.  After the wand examination, the X-Ray portal wand guy waved me to the X-Ray belt machine.  I then retrieved my belt and all of my belongings.  After threading the belt through the belt loops of my pants, I then proceeded to the elevator for the next step in the adventure glad that my pants remained up while I was wanded (spell check says wanded is not a word).

We then had to pass through yet another line so that our names could be checked off by one of two women seated at a table ensuring we had met all of the obligations contained in Carlo's letter.  Each woman had a list of names and checked the name of the person off the list after the proper ID was furnished.  The list had some problems because the guy two ahead of me was not on the list.  The two women talked amongst themselves and argued a little while whispering about how this was not possible. "If he received a letter he should be on our list.  Why isn't he on our list?  We need to look at his letter.  Maybe he has the wrong date!  Maybe he has the wrong county!  The problem of him not being our list,  can't be with our list!"  They finally decided to deal with him separately and then told him to step aside.

After getting past the list checking women, I was told to take a seat in this very large room.  The room apparently had seating for around 200 to 250 people. The room's seating capacity was inadequate for the GR09 people because it was standing room only.  I fortunately found a seat before there no seats to be had and sat in a section of people working hard on their smart phones.

Our first five minutes was a welcome from a guy who told everyone how great a bunch of citizens we were for coming, this day would be hopefully an enjoyable experience, and supplied the location of the vending machines and bathrooms. He could have been Carlo but he never stated his name nor did he wear a name badge.

The second speaker was the lady in charge of coordinating the whole day.  She was honest. She told us people staying until noon would receive a pittance plus gas mileage as pay for their Dane County experience.  The people staying into the afternoon would receive a slighter increase to the pittance and gas mileage.  She told us to view it as a public service and not a money making experience.  She then smiled and asked for  questions.  She was pleasantly surprised when no one had a question so we could move on to viewing a video telling us how to be jurors.

We then viewed this 15 minute video which was completed in 2017 and "professionally done" for all jurors summoned for jury duty in any part of Wisconsin.  Patience Rogensack, Wisconsin Supreme Court justice, led off the video.  I thought this was very strange because the Wisconsin Supreme Court does not hear jury trials.  Nonetheless she started the video followed by a number of trial judges.  Did you know all jurors must have a unanimous verdict in a felony trial and only a 5/6 agreement in a civil trial?  The video was completed by 9:15.

We were then instructed to sit and wait for our juror number to be called by anyone of the Dane County sheriff deputy (also known as the bailiff) for the 27 trial judges.  If we were called we were to meet the bailiff at the elevator and be escorted to the courtroom where we would meet the judge and the lawyers.

As the woman next to me continued to play Candy Crush on her smart phone, we waited to be called.  The woman in charge made two calls for 30 jurors in the first fifteen minutes and the numbers called were very much below Pool Member Number: 207.    Then there was no activity for the next 30 minutes.

At 10:15 the woman in charge returned.  She said rather sheepishly, "I guess I did not review any of the court dockets last Friday.  If I had then I could have called a lot of you off and you would have avoided the trip here.  The courts really did not have a lot going on this week.  Sorry about that.  You are all free to go.  You will get your $15 check plus mileage in 6 weeks.  You are all off the juror list for 4 years.  Thanks for your time and have a good day."

I left the Dane County Courthouse, grabbed a city bus, and was home before noon.

Being a juror was a snap and I can't wait until Carlo or his successor sends me another letter for jury duty 38 years from now.  If I unfortunately  receive a summons  in four years perhaps it will coincide with a scheduled colonoscopy and then I will need to decide what is the bigger pain in the derriere.

Cardinal Directions

My wife, Jean, and I lived in this house since 1986.  When we first obtained a loan for the house the mortgage broker told us, "This is your starter house.  You should sell the house in a few years and get a larger house."  I guess we are bad listeners because we are still here. 

The house is situated in a quiet neighborhood without a through street.  The cardinal-points keys are the road to the north, a blue house to the west, a line of overgrown arbor vitae trees to the south with a pieced together wire fence the owner in the yard to the south installed to keep his dog in his yard and promptly got rid of the dog, and a yellow house on the east. 

South

I approached what I thought was the owner of the ugly arbor vitae trees to the south a few years ago and suggested that we jointly cut the trees down.   The arbor vitae are his trees, I think,  but I am not sure of the property line and I am too cheap to pay a surveyor to determine the property line.  After discussions with the south property owner, the ugly, overgrown arbor vitae remain because he claimed he just survived cancer and did not want to add the stress of removing trees to hinder his recuperation.

East

The yellow house to the east has gone through a succession of owners but it has continued  to be owned by somebody generally living in the house.  Since we lived here, I remember five owners. 

The original owner was a divorced woman with a son who liked to construct car trailers in the garage.  Occasionally large semis loaded with steel would  drive up our little street and drop steel girders off in their driveway.  The son and  a friend would then move the steel girders into the garage, cut them with acetylene torches, and construct the trailer using paint containing 100% volatile organic compounds.  Besides the paint smell and the noise, he and his partner would build car trailers well into the morning.  I went to the City of Madison Planning Department one day and asked whether it was legal to build car trailers in a garage in a residential zoning area.  The city planners told me it was not.  When I told the son he should not build these trailers he leveled a torrid of obscenities at me. Shortly after the verbal abuse,  I then formally complained to the Planning Department which then investigated.  Later that month he knocked on our door and conceded that he was wrong and stopped building car trailers in the garage.

The son was the same guy who wanted to pull shrubs from the front of the house.  The shrubs were there at the time it was built and firmly anchored.  He hooked a rope to the shrubs and the other rope to his back car bumper without attempting to dig out the shrubs.  He assumed horsepower was greater than root power.  He then placed the car in drive and gunned the car.  The car left with the rear bumper laying on the ground next to the shrubs and him in the street with the car shaking his head.  Most of the neighbors saw his attempt and it made for great story telling for years to come.

The next owner was a Madison Police Department (MPD) cop who got married, became sick of his shifts as a cop, and is now a security officer at Meriter General Hospital.

 The third owner couple had two kids and stayed in the house only as long as the husband,  Mike, obtained his PhD in mathematics from UW-Madison after which he was hired by Harvard University or Columbia (one of those two small eastern colleges)  to teach mathematics.  Mike did not like anything other than mathematics and so was not good at yard or house upkeep.  When they left his wife found out they were expecting kid three (Surprise!). 

After they left  the house was rented for a year to a Mormon couple with two kids who tried to buy the house from Mike.  Mike wasn't very good at selling houses either and the Mormon couple and kids bought another house before Mike could make up his mind. 

The current residents, a couple and son, rented the house for a year and decided to buy the house from Mike.  Mike got his act together and sold the house to them although he had to sign the final papers while taking a sabbatical in Germany.  The new owners,  another Mike and his wife have a 4 year old son.  The new Mike is a gear-head and  likes lawn work as much as the prior Mike.  The new Mike spends a lot of time in his garage working on one of their four cars.

Although the yellow house to the east has been interesting, the most interesting house is the  is the blue, chaotic house located to the west.

West

The blue house to the west did not begin chaotic. When we moved into our house in 1986, George and Helen owned the house.  George worked for the Department of Revenue (DOR) and had been retired when we bought the house.  George was either an attendant or pilot for the Wisconsin Air Service before he worked for DOR.  Believe it or not, at one time Wisconsin had its own airlines.  In pictures he appeared to be a steward and not a pilot, although he never said. Helen stayed at home and did cross stitch. George, at one time, was a major force in the Madison Scouts, a drum and bugle corps of some acclaim.  They had a violin showcased in a case in their main room.  George apparently played the violin also at one time.

George and Helen were always there.  We needed them one time when our second child wanted to be born in the middle of the night.  George happily came over after being called at midnight and watched the oldest daughter while we were in the hospital. Jean and I were always invited to their house during Christmas for a Christmas drink.  Jean and Helen had a Bailey's Irish Crème.  George and I had a beer.  That beer was probably the only beer George drank all year.  One year I convinced him to drink two beers at this annual event which made him tipsy and invoked Helen's anger at me.

As George moved on in years, he could no longer do many of the outside chores.  So  gradually I began mowing the lawn, cutting the hedge, and shoveling the snow.  George passed away in a nursing home in 2002.

After George's death, Helen was then left alone in the house which caused her nearest son, Doug, living in Minneapolis a lot of headaches.  Helen never drove a car and so Jean would take her grocery shopping.  Doug would travel back to Madison every other week to fix things in the house for Helen.  Gradually Doug's wife got tired of Doug's trip to Madison and convinced him that Helen should sell the house and enter an assisted living facility.  Helen was not sold on her daughter-in-law's idea but gave in and sold the house to a trust in 2006. The first attempt at placing Helen in one of these places in Madison was a dismal failure because Helen was not cooperative and Doug spent more time in Madison after moving her than when she was living in the blue house.  Doug then decided to move her to an assisted living facility  in Minneapolis closer to Doug.   The selling of the house and moving to Minneapolis broke Helen's heart and she died within a year of selling the house.

When the trust took over the house, guys who looked like former convicts employed by the trust, came in and stripped the house of any furnishings left by George and Helen.  All of the carpeting and many of the appliances were junked or replaced. After that we have seen a series of renters paying a price listed on a lawn sign of $1,450 per month.

The first renters were a black couple, Tanya and her male partner -- never could determine if they were married.  They were in the house for six months. One day Jean and I came home witnessing five MPD police cars surrounding the house.  According to the cops, Tanya was not happy with her partner and went after him with a knife.  He had serious injuries from stab wounds on his back and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance.  Some of the neighbors speculated he was dead.  We were interviewed by a MPD  detective and asked questions about how they lived.  Apparently her partner either rose from the dead or made a miraculous recovery because he was sweeping the front stoop two weeks after the knife incident.  The  couple were gradually evicted from the house for nonpayment of rent.

The next renters were a nonprofit agency which housed two young guys in wheelchairs.  The agency had people staying with the wheelchair guys 24/7.  The wheelchair guys looked at the house as a prison and the women attendants as prison guards  One day one of them made a break for it  in his motorized wheelchair when no one was looking.  The attendant discovered the breakout and stopped him at the end of the block.  The nonprofit's residents and attendants resided in the blue house for a year and a half and then one day they were gone. The movers came in the middle of the night, moved them, and left.

The third series of renters was a Veterans Administration (VA) guy by the name of Kirby. Kirby came from Rockford, Illinois and decided the VA hospital in Madison was better than the one in Rockford. Kirby had one leg amputated in a VA hospital before moving to Madison.  Jean became acquainted with him one day when she heard a voice and saw him lying on his back and not able to reach his wheelchair in his driveway.  He had left his car, missed his wheelchair, and was lying helplessly in the driveway.  Jean helped him into his wheelchair.  Kirby also locked himself out of his house one day and we had to help him break into the house by bypassing the lock.

Kirby was divorced and then remarried.  His second wife committed suicide before  he moved Madison. After lying on the driveway and locking himself out of the house, Kirby realized he needed help. Kirby then hired his first wife to be his caretaker.  The first wife and her two older sons then moved from Rockford to Madison to take care of Kirby at the house.  Mary, the first wife, appeared to work hard in keeping the house in order.

 Kirby was a bird lover and had six cockatoos.  One of the cockatoos escaped one day and was not seen even after  they performed an all-out search of the neighborhood.  I think our resident hawk found the cockatoo and had an enjoyable meal. The two sons did not work and apparently stayed in the house viewing porn on the Internet all day while drinking beer they purchased from our local Super America gas station located within walking distance of the house.

Kirby smoked and drank.  He appeared to have a great time when he lived in the house.  In July 2015, Kirby became sick and was hospitalized.  He needed surgery.  He went to the Madison VA hospital for the surgery and the surgeon discovered he was full of cancer and then closed him up. According to Mary, he died on the operating table.  Mary and the two sons could no longer afford the rent and moved shortly after Kirby's death.

The current residents are a single mom and kids.  The single mom has a boyfriend who lives with her and the kids. We are unsure how many people actually live in the house now because we see a number of different people coming and going from the house daily.  The boyfriend has a rather noisy late model car that he uses to transport various people back and forth to work and school.  His taxi service starts at 4:30 am during the work week and the noise of the car at that time in the morning has not made him popular with any of the neighbors.

We are not sure what to expect from these west-located neighbors.  On January 30, 2018 at 8 pm we had five marked and one unmarked MPD police cars parked along our street interested in the residents of the blue house.  They viewed the house from across the street for an hour and then left.

With everything that has happened in the blue house and after seeing a street full of MPD police cars, I hope not heeding the mortgage broker's advice about moving up to a different house does not come back to haunt us.

Living Room Technology

Living Room Technology

When I was a junior in college in the early 70s (that is 1970s and not the 1870s) there was an offer from Crazy TV Lenny at the American Store on the Beltline for a receiver, speakers, turntable for under $500.  Crazy TV Lenny even threw in a 10 speed bike.  The offer was too good to pass up.  A year after my TV Lenny purchase,  my roommate decided to sell me his Dolby cassette player which could be directed into the receiver after he left  for a job in Alaska.  For many years I was happy with my turntable,  receiver, cassette tape deck, and speakers.  The 10 speed bike fell apart and went to the junkyard three years later.

For those who never experienced TV Lenny, TV Lenny was an institution in Madison.  He took over a failing electronics shop, American TV, and turned it into a successful business by a combination of crazy advertising and business acumen.  He sold the business and the people taking over the business failed to continue his approach.  American TV filed for bankruptcy in 2014.

In future years, I was able to avoid the 8 track tape craze. I neither had the money or hot car to install an 8 track tape machine.  But I chose the wrong side of the beta tape - VHS tape war and bought a beta tape player that was soon obsolete and was replaced by a VHS machine.

After my left knee replacement on November 20, 2017, I have been forced to sit in a rocker-recliner located on the north side of the living room and stare at the current electronic gadgets located for the most part on the south side of the living room.  I look at our current technology configuration and shake my head as I recall the TV Lenny days.

We still have the dependable receiver, speakers, and turntable.  But in the last five years we now have an Internet modem, CD player, DVD player, DVD blu-ray player, WII playstation, Uniden telephone center, and Smart TV.  All of this equipment  has LED emitting diodes that supply a kaleidoscope of colors whether it is on or off.  The red, blue, and green LED lights brighten the living room even when everyone is in bed.  If anyone walked past our house and can see the living room past 10:30 pm it would appear we are working hard using a massive computer system. Perhaps this light display and false impression of activity has saved us from potential interlopers.  It may be one of the hidden benefits of owning all of this stuff.

The south wall also has a bookcase and entertainment center to contain and feed the gadgets. We have vinyl records.  (We had them even before they became popular again.). We also have CDs and DVDs.  Some of the CDs we never listen to and some of the DVDs we have never seen the movies or old TV shows contained in their pretty boxes. We even have DVDs for the Wii PlayStation that are bunched together expecting to be used but never see the blue light of the Wii.

We have additional electronic gadgets in other parts of the living room. We have Alexa from Amazon which listens to our conversations.  We tell Alexa to play music from a radio station ever so often to give her something to do. We have an IPOD and IPAD.  I have a Nook e-reader that I never figured out how to use.  We also have two dumb cellphones.

(Yes, I guess we are heretics in this age of smartphones.  Our two kids have smartphones which they "cannot live without".  Jean, my wife, uses her cellphone for calling and texting people.  She is perfectly happy with the ability of her dumb cellphone which disappoints our cellphone carrier,  U. S. Cellular.

Me, on the other hand, only owned a dumb cellphone because other people in the family were concerned I may be in a place where there was no telephone and that I would need to contact someone.  Since that decision was made four years ago I needed the cellphone two times.  Because I use the cellphone so often it sits in a case in a different room strategically placed so I can't hear it if it rings.  I do not know what all of the different buttons do and have no interest in finding out. 

Why, am I so out of the smartphone mainstream?  I see people with smartphones and they are always on or peering at their cellphones.  It appears to me the cellphone takes their time without supplying any benefit.  I think napping is a better use of time. But that is my take.  Oh, by the way, I have no idea what my dumb cellphone number is and so do not ask.)

Controlling my TV in college was simple.  You turned it on and the antenna would find between one and three channels.  To turn off the TV you pushed a knob.  The journey from the couch to turn on or off the TV may be all of the exercise occurring on that day of TV viewing but it was exercise nonetheless.

Today we have a dizzying amount of remotes.  (Yes, I know it is possible to consolidate all of the many remotes into one remote but I neither have the patience or understanding to do that.)   We have a remote for the TV, the cable, the DVD player, and the blu-ray player.  The cable TV remote has buttons that I am afraid to push because bad things may happen.  The DVD player remotes have buttons to start, rewind, end and do other things as you watch the DVD.  The different colored buttons begin with black and also have blue and red.   The red button does not appear to do anything when pressed, I hope.

With all of this technology we now have access to a great number of cable TV stations we never use, NETFLIX, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, and cellphone calls from credit card companies telling us we are negligent in not obtaining their credit card.  The occasional wrong number from a drunk calling from a bar in San Diego also makes the cellphone a modern convenience we look forward to using.  I also must admit I cannot figure out what Facebook can do and have no idea what to do with Twitter. I am afraid if I learn how to use Twitter, if that is possible, I may get an errant tweet from the White House which is pretty scary under the present administration.

So you can see that if someone graded me on technology knowledge today I would hover near a D or D minus and coasting downward to an F.  But I can live with that. I am afraid as to what I will need to know about the next electronic gadget that I asked for, a camera.  Oh, you say I have a camera in my dumb phone.  Really?

But if you want to go back in time and not deal with the electronics we have books located in another bookcase  on the east side of the living room.  These books are silent witnesses to the lights and glitz of the electronic gadgets on the south side. The books have one advantage over the electronics; they do not require electricity.

As I sit here in my rocker-recliner recuperating from the knee replacement, the smart TV, Alexa, and other various electronic wonders are waiting for me to press a remote or issue a voice command.  I think I will sit in my chair, take a nap, and keep them guessing.