CHAPTER 3:
WISCONSIN
Crossing the river, we come to Marinette, Wisconsin. Marinette
is named after Queen Marinette, a French/Chippewa woman, who, with her
husband, opened a fur trading post here in the town's early years. Later,
around 1830, the city was regarded as the white pine producing center
of the world. Stop and visit the Logging Museum in Stephenson Island Park.
South of Marinette, we pass through Peshtigo. Peshtigo's
claim to fame (or infamy, really) is it's famous fire, which occurred
on exactly the same day as the great Chicago fire. No, as far as we know,
there were no cows involved in this one, but the blaze was disastrous,
claiming more than 1200 people, far worse than the fatalities taking place
in Chicago, 270 miles to the south. There is a monument to those who perished,
at the Peshtigo Fire Cemetery, and on Oconto street, the Peshtigo Fire
Museum contains local items relating to the fire.
South of Peshtigo, route 41 travels through Oconto, once
the burial site of an ancient people called the Copper Culture. Visit
the Beyer Home Museum and see artifacts and displays of the Culture and
Oconto history.
Which brings us to Green Bay, the city, not the bay. Green
Bay is a mystery. How can a town with a population of only 96,000 people
be the home to a National Football League franchise that is 84 years
old? Some of the people in this town eat, sleep, and breath football,
in season and out. Green Bay is home to the Green Bay Packer Hall of Fame,
the Packer Experience, the National Railroad Museum, the University of
Wisconsin at Green Bay, the Oneida (Indian) Nation Museum, and of course,
Lambeau Field, home of the Packers. Lambeau Field is named after Curly
Lambeau, who was head coach of the Pack from 1921 to 1949, and if you
come to town during pre-season, you can watch the Pack work out in training
camp.
One thing for sure, if you like football, this is the place
to be. I like football. There is a ballet about football. Especially where
the receiver sprints down the field, the quarterback leads the runner
by throwing the ball to a spot where the runner will be, and then, the
amazing leap at just the right moment. That fingertip catch, that flying-through-the-air
with the greatest of ease, the collision with the ground, and will he
be able to hold onto the ball through it all? It's a ballet. It's a ballet
of bruises and bangs, an ebb and flow of this small sea of humanity, a
science of action and reaction, a chess-like mindgame of thrust and parry
with 22 men and the skin of a pig. A ballet of brute brawn and brute brains.
Life is like that sometimes. We meet life head-on, colliding. We spin
out of troubles, we do end-runs around our problems, we out-think our
enemies, we go for the gold, the long shot, the Hail Mary. Or we grind
life out in 3 and 4 yard runs, making our way down the field of life with
first downs every so often. Grinding it out, grinding it out, putting
one step in front of the other, grinding it out.
Did you ever notice the different ways that people get through
life? There are the 'plodders', the people that went to work for XYZ company
thirty years ago, right out of high school, and are going to get their
gold watch and retire, and they've never had anything that vaguely resembled
an adventure in their entire lives. They've raised kids, put them through
college, lived in the same house, same town, same job, grinding it out.
Houses made of ticky-tack. Good people, grinding it out. BORING!
Then there are the 'shooting stars'. People who have had
their fifteen minutes of fame early in life, maybe the high school jock,
the valedictorian, or the homecoming queen. 15 minutes of fame early on,
and then the rest of their life is a fizzle. Most-likely-to-succeeds who
don't, and the rest of their life is anti-climactic.
Or how about those who rush out into the business world
and knock 'em dead, who achieve wealth and material possessions, and then
realize that there is more to it than just that. People who seem to have
it all, the cars, the houses, the beautiful wife and lovely children,
and ten years later, the whole thing is coming apart at the seams, divorce,
child custody battles, bankruptcy, loss of job. The hardest part of success
isn't always the getting-there, it's the staying there. It's like we aren't
properly warned that once you have succeeded, you have to always be on
guard to stay there. It's like the Green Bay Packers, it's like football,
you're only as successful as your last season, as your last game. 'What
have you done for us lately', they ask in the business world? 'What have
you done for me lately', asks your wife? 'What have you done for us lately',
the kids ask? It's like you can't let your guard down for a minute, or
some tackle, some problem, will come exploding through the line and throw
you back for a ten yard loss.
Route 41 makes its way through Wisconsin, Home of the Cheeseheads.
Solid Americana. European stock, dairy farms, cheese. Lots of cheese.
Oh, and beer. Lots of beer. Corner taverns in little towns, serving the
beer that made Milwaukee famous. Wisconsin is lakes and fishing and hunting.
In the fall, hunters converge on little towns all over Wisconsin to gather
for the hunt. Little motels in little towns disgorge men in bright orange
hats and vests, out into the countryside and the dark woods, to go in
search of deer and duck. Buddies getting away from the wife and kids,
to walk through the fall colors in search of that trophy, that shot, that
moment when the quarry wanders randomly into our sights. Wrong turn, Mister
Deer, and now you are mine. BANG! Got 'em! And life is like that sometimes,
life gets us, shoots us down, sometimes down and out forever, but sometimes,
just wounded, never to recover. Going through life wounded, trying to
put things back the way they were, but never recovering. The "you-can't-go-home-again"
syndrome. And once a person realizes (and some never do) that you will
never put it back the way it was, that the solution lies in going a different
way, doing it a completely different way, that starting all over again
and doing it a completely different way is the ONLY way to go, well, it's
the only way to avoid going crazy. The other way, you go crazy. Stark-raving
crazy. You have to go a different way, live with and cope with the memories,
and try to use what you can of the way-it-was that worked, and you go
on.
Wisconsin is beer and German food, good stick-to-the-ribs
food that they have tried to tell us recently might not be so good for
us. But boy, it tastes good. Stroganoff, schnitzel, and Schlitz. You only
go around once, the commercial says, but what it fails to disclose is
that the bubbly brew can make the trip a short one. The commercials never
show the damage the suds can do to your liver, they never show the families
destroyed by a breadwinner who stops making bread because he has lost
his life to the brew, lost his job to the brew, lost his brains to the
brew. Go for the gusto, the commercial says, and we find men in gutters
who went for the gusto, men in morgues who went for the gusto, men in
mental institutions who went for the gusto. We are fed a lie that the
consumption of this beer or that alcoholic beverage will bring us the
good life, the good-looking woman, the good time. We are not told about
the loss of virginity that takes place hours later, the loss of life or
limb that takes place after the consumption of these poisons, the loss
of jobs and families and direction and accomplishment that occurs after
these addictives take hold of our lives. Truth-In-Advertising? Booze kills.
Booze destroys.
We stop at a local restaurant chain, 4 stores, Storheim's.
Good American food, hamburgers, custard, 1919 Root Beer. Clean. Delicious.
Route 41 at Oneida. We generally stay away from the national chains in
our travels, choosing rather to try to find the local eateries with reputations.
Simply stop at any gas station or truck stop and ask around. You'll soon
have plenty of opinions from the locals on where the good eats are at.
We roll through Kaukauna, the brochure tells us it is one
of the Fox Cities, cities on or near the Fox River. Isn't there some sort
of processed cheese called Kaukauna? Next up, Little Chute. Isn't there
are big pizza maker from up here, Tony's frozen pizza? Speaking of brochures,
we are collector's of brochures about the sights and scenes in our travels.
Local Chambers of Commerce, Convention and Visitor's Bureaus (CVB) and
the states pour out reams of literature to promote their area for conventions
and tourism. We take full advantage of this horde of information, and
find it is great help in planning our trips, including last minute things
that we weren't aware of until we arrived in an area. Best places to obtain
these are at motels, restaurants, and at the welcome stations as you enter
the state, which stations are usually located at the rest areas along
the interstate.
One of the brochures lists all the Wisconsin Malls, Flea
Markets, as well as Antique and Arts/Crafts shops. My wife, who is drawn
to art and craft geegaws like a bee to honey, has used the brochure to
laid out a plan of action to hit all such craft shops located on or near
route 41.
Another great source of information for planning a trip
is the American Automobile Association. Our local AAA club is the Chicago
Motor Club. The membership is worth it's weight in gold, and includes
trip planning TripTiks, Tour books that cover one or more states, a towing
service for when you break down on the road, and discounts on motels car
rentals, and admissions to national attractions like Sea World, Busch
Gardens, and more.
Appleton, Wisconsin, sits at the top of vast Lake Winnebago,
Wisconsin's largest inland lake, and is the heart of a five-city area
along the Fox River, known as "Paper Valley". The area is the home of
numerous paper mills and industries related to the paper business. The
Fox River was early-on tapped to provide electric power to the region,
a hydroelectric plant being built in 1882. Appleton is the birthplace
and home to two famous Americans, Senator Joseph McCarthy, and the magician,
Harry Houdini. McCarthy rates a bust at the county courthouse, while Houdini
has a Historical Center. During his heyday, McCarthy made Communists appear
from under every rock, and there were probably some who wished Houdini
were still around in the 50's, so he could have made McCarthy disappear.
Next down the road is Oshkosh, famous for sawdust, airplanes,
and bib overalls. Known as the "Sawdust City" back in the late 1800's,
the city proved to be a natural storage facility for the lumber industry.
More recently, Oshkosh has become the center of the experimental airplane
business, hosting the yearly Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) International
Fly-In, when hundreds of home-built and experimental craft fly in, and
owners and builders swap stories. Be sure to see the EAA Adventure Museum
near route 41 and SR44. The town is also home to the clothing manufacturer,
OshKosh B'Gosh, and most of us as kids or farmers have owned a pair of
their famous bib overalls.
Fond Du Lac, at the "bottom" of Lake Winnebago, is home
to one of North America's largest tool manufacturers, and to Mercury Marine,
makers of outboard motors and boats. Around the area, visit historic homes,
farmer's markets, sausage and cheese shops, and recreational facilities.
Also be sure to see the turn-of-the-century Galloway House and Village,
and Blakely Museum off route 41 and SR175. Be sure to stop in and say
hello to Grace and Jerry Mielke, at the Kristmas Kringle Shoppe.
Here you will find over 70 theme-decorated Christmas Trees,
including a Green Bay Packer tree, as well as hundreds of other ornaments,
gifts, and collectibles. Check out the Harley Davidson tree, the Motorcycle
tree, the sports tree, the Santa tree, the snowman tree, the Mickey Mouse
tree, trees from different countries, the Doctor tree, and the Dentist
tree. Dentist tree, dentistry, get it? Check out the Bohemian Christmas
ornaments. Check out the Czech ornaments.
We travel south through rural Wisconsin, and head for Milwaukee,
Wisconsin's largest city. If you are into geese, take a sidetrip just
west of Route 41, to the Horicon Marsh Wildlife area, where, at certain
times of the year, you can see hundreds, no, make that thousands of geese
and ducks. The din is truly unbelievable.
As we near Milwaukee, route
41 joins up with Route 45 for awhile. 45, like 41, is another north-south
highway that travels the mid-section of the country, from the Upper Peninsula
and Lake Superior, to the waters of Mobile Bay in Alabama. We are on a
4 lane limited access highway now, as we come through Germantown and Menominee
Falls on the Veteran's Memorial Highway.
Coming into Milwaukee, the highway
becomes a street, Appleton Avenue. We are astounded to see a street walker
in broad daylight, modeling the latest in lingerie as she plies her trade.
Would this ever transpire in Hancock or Houghton? We doubt it, and wonder
what brought about such a disparate difference in culture?
We pass near
Mount Mary College, and into a bonafide neighborhood, Uptown Crossing.
Lisbon Avenue, running northwest by southeast, joins us (or we join it?)
We pass a new ball park, gotta find out what that is all about, some baseball
fan would probably know all about it, but since we're not into baseball,
well... we'll find out.
Route 41 gets a little tricky here in the city,
43rd St., turn east on National, south on 27th... The kids are getting
out of school, they look just like the kids in our neighborhood, the uniform
of the day is uniform from one place to another, sloppy clothes, baggy
pants, young ladies looking like trollops, earrings everywhere, a slovenly
look. We stop at a light and are jarred by the sound coming from the vehicle
in back of us. Do these kids not know that they are going to go deaf,
that they are going deaf listening to the music so loud that it can be
heard a block away? Why is there such a general lack of civility in our
cities, why the lack of manners and courtesy? Hasn't anyone every told
these kids that it would be inconsiderate of others to play their music
at ear-shattering levels? Why is there no respect for the older generation
by the kids? Why is road rage so widespread? It appears that we have raised
a generation of brats, of spoiled children who have no regard for others.
Milwaukee is home of the Brewers and the brewers. Immigrants
from the old country built this town. Neighborhoods of Germans and Poles,
Irish and Scandinavians. Although route 41 doesn't go through the downtown,
there is much to see not far from our path. Take a side-trip there to
see the lakefront, the art center and war memorial, and the public museum.
Drive around town and see the old public library building, the zoo, and
if they're in town, take in a ballgame at County Stadium, home of the
American League Brewers. They are building a new stadium next door, Miller
Park, might be up and running by the time you get there. Before the game,
take the kids to Discovery World, where they can play hands-on with more
than 140 scientific exhibits. Finish the day off with a German meal at
any of hundreds of fine local restaurants.
We creep our way through Milwaukee, for in all the northern
tier of states in the US, there are two seasons, winter, and construction.
It is construction season as we make our way slowly through Milwaukee,
and we creep from one barricade to another. Oklahoma Avenue. Alverno College
is to the west. The Route 41 Twin Outdoor Theater. The movies have made
a comeback over the last decade, and likewise, the outdoor theater. It
must be a generational thing. Once during each generation, there is a
revival of the outdoor theater. An opportunity to watch a movie under
the stars. To make out in the front seat of the family car. To make the
trek to the concession stand for popcorn, and watch the fireworks during
intermission.
South of Milwaukee, Route 41 becomes part of Interstate
94 and runs at 65 miles per hour pass an array of outlet malls and adult
book emporiums. East of us, at the lake (Michigan), are Racine and Kenosha.
If you'd like some good stick-to-your-ribs (literally!) food, stop at
the Taste of Wisconsin restaurant at exit 344. While not the healthiest
grub, you can enjoy typical German food cooked Wisconsin style, and (last
chance) pick up some cheese and souvenirs to go.
South of Marinette, we pass through Peshtigo. Peshtigo's claim to fame (or infamy, really) is it's famous fire, which occurred on exactly the same day as the great Chicago fire. No, as far as we know, there were no cows involved in this one, but the blaze was disastrous, claiming more than 1200 people, far worse than the fatalities taking place in Chicago, 270 miles to the south. There is a monument to those who perished, at the Peshtigo Fire Cemetery, and on Oconto street, the Peshtigo Fire Museum contains local items relating to the fire.
South of Peshtigo, route 41 travels through Oconto, once the burial site of an ancient people called the Copper Culture. Visit the Beyer Home Museum and see artifacts and displays of the Culture and Oconto history.
Which brings us to Green Bay, the city, not the bay. Green Bay is a mystery. How can a town with a population of only 96,000 people be the home to a National Football League franchise that is 84 years old? Some of the people in this town eat, sleep, and breath football, in season and out. Green Bay is home to the Green Bay Packer Hall of Fame, the Packer Experience, the National Railroad Museum, the University of Wisconsin at Green Bay, the Oneida (Indian) Nation Museum, and of course, Lambeau Field, home of the Packers. Lambeau Field is named after Curly Lambeau, who was head coach of the Pack from 1921 to 1949, and if you come to town during pre-season, you can watch the Pack work out in training camp.
One thing for sure, if you like football, this is the place to be. I like football. There is a ballet about football. Especially where the receiver sprints down the field, the quarterback leads the runner by throwing the ball to a spot where the runner will be, and then, the amazing leap at just the right moment. That fingertip catch, that flying-through-the-air with the greatest of ease, the collision with the ground, and will he be able to hold onto the ball through it all? It's a ballet. It's a ballet of bruises and bangs, an ebb and flow of this small sea of humanity, a science of action and reaction, a chess-like mindgame of thrust and parry with 22 men and the skin of a pig. A ballet of brute brawn and brute brains. Life is like that sometimes. We meet life head-on, colliding. We spin out of troubles, we do end-runs around our problems, we out-think our enemies, we go for the gold, the long shot, the Hail Mary. Or we grind life out in 3 and 4 yard runs, making our way down the field of life with first downs every so often. Grinding it out, grinding it out, putting one step in front of the other, grinding it out.
Did you ever notice the different ways that people get through life? There are the 'plodders', the people that went to work for XYZ company thirty years ago, right out of high school, and are going to get their gold watch and retire, and they've never had anything that vaguely resembled an adventure in their entire lives. They've raised kids, put them through college, lived in the same house, same town, same job, grinding it out. Houses made of ticky-tack. Good people, grinding it out. BORING!
Then there are the 'shooting stars'. People who have had their fifteen minutes of fame early in life, maybe the high school jock, the valedictorian, or the homecoming queen. 15 minutes of fame early on, and then the rest of their life is a fizzle. Most-likely-to-succeeds who don't, and the rest of their life is anti-climactic.
Or how about those who rush out into the business world and knock 'em dead, who achieve wealth and material possessions, and then realize that there is more to it than just that. People who seem to have it all, the cars, the houses, the beautiful wife and lovely children, and ten years later, the whole thing is coming apart at the seams, divorce, child custody battles, bankruptcy, loss of job. The hardest part of success isn't always the getting-there, it's the staying there. It's like we aren't properly warned that once you have succeeded, you have to always be on guard to stay there. It's like the Green Bay Packers, it's like football, you're only as successful as your last season, as your last game. 'What have you done for us lately', they ask in the business world? 'What have you done for me lately', asks your wife? 'What have you done for us lately', the kids ask? It's like you can't let your guard down for a minute, or some tackle, some problem, will come exploding through the line and throw you back for a ten yard loss.
Route 41 makes its way through Wisconsin, Home of the Cheeseheads. Solid Americana. European stock, dairy farms, cheese. Lots of cheese. Oh, and beer. Lots of beer. Corner taverns in little towns, serving the beer that made Milwaukee famous. Wisconsin is lakes and fishing and hunting. In the fall, hunters converge on little towns all over Wisconsin to gather for the hunt. Little motels in little towns disgorge men in bright orange hats and vests, out into the countryside and the dark woods, to go in search of deer and duck. Buddies getting away from the wife and kids, to walk through the fall colors in search of that trophy, that shot, that moment when the quarry wanders randomly into our sights. Wrong turn, Mister Deer, and now you are mine. BANG! Got 'em! And life is like that sometimes, life gets us, shoots us down, sometimes down and out forever, but sometimes, just wounded, never to recover. Going through life wounded, trying to put things back the way they were, but never recovering. The "you-can't-go-home-again" syndrome. And once a person realizes (and some never do) that you will never put it back the way it was, that the solution lies in going a different way, doing it a completely different way, that starting all over again and doing it a completely different way is the ONLY way to go, well, it's the only way to avoid going crazy. The other way, you go crazy. Stark-raving crazy. You have to go a different way, live with and cope with the memories, and try to use what you can of the way-it-was that worked, and you go on.
Wisconsin is beer and German food, good stick-to-the-ribs food that they have tried to tell us recently might not be so good for us. But boy, it tastes good. Stroganoff, schnitzel, and Schlitz. You only go around once, the commercial says, but what it fails to disclose is that the bubbly brew can make the trip a short one. The commercials never show the damage the suds can do to your liver, they never show the families destroyed by a breadwinner who stops making bread because he has lost his life to the brew, lost his job to the brew, lost his brains to the brew. Go for the gusto, the commercial says, and we find men in gutters who went for the gusto, men in morgues who went for the gusto, men in mental institutions who went for the gusto. We are fed a lie that the consumption of this beer or that alcoholic beverage will bring us the good life, the good-looking woman, the good time. We are not told about the loss of virginity that takes place hours later, the loss of life or limb that takes place after the consumption of these poisons, the loss of jobs and families and direction and accomplishment that occurs after these addictives take hold of our lives. Truth-In-Advertising? Booze kills. Booze destroys.
We stop at a local restaurant chain, 4 stores, Storheim's. Good American food, hamburgers, custard, 1919 Root Beer. Clean. Delicious. Route 41 at Oneida. We generally stay away from the national chains in our travels, choosing rather to try to find the local eateries with reputations. Simply stop at any gas station or truck stop and ask around. You'll soon have plenty of opinions from the locals on where the good eats are at.
We roll through Kaukauna, the brochure tells us it is one of the Fox Cities, cities on or near the Fox River. Isn't there some sort of processed cheese called Kaukauna? Next up, Little Chute. Isn't there are big pizza maker from up here, Tony's frozen pizza? Speaking of brochures, we are collector's of brochures about the sights and scenes in our travels. Local Chambers of Commerce, Convention and Visitor's Bureaus (CVB) and the states pour out reams of literature to promote their area for conventions and tourism. We take full advantage of this horde of information, and find it is great help in planning our trips, including last minute things that we weren't aware of until we arrived in an area. Best places to obtain these are at motels, restaurants, and at the welcome stations as you enter the state, which stations are usually located at the rest areas along the interstate.
One of the brochures lists all the Wisconsin Malls, Flea Markets, as well as Antique and Arts/Crafts shops. My wife, who is drawn to art and craft geegaws like a bee to honey, has used the brochure to laid out a plan of action to hit all such craft shops located on or near route 41.
Another great source of information for planning a trip is the American Automobile Association. Our local AAA club is the Chicago Motor Club. The membership is worth it's weight in gold, and includes trip planning TripTiks, Tour books that cover one or more states, a towing service for when you break down on the road, and discounts on motels car rentals, and admissions to national attractions like Sea World, Busch Gardens, and more.
Appleton, Wisconsin, sits at the top of vast Lake Winnebago, Wisconsin's largest inland lake, and is the heart of a five-city area along the Fox River, known as "Paper Valley". The area is the home of numerous paper mills and industries related to the paper business. The Fox River was early-on tapped to provide electric power to the region, a hydroelectric plant being built in 1882. Appleton is the birthplace and home to two famous Americans, Senator Joseph McCarthy, and the magician, Harry Houdini. McCarthy rates a bust at the county courthouse, while Houdini has a Historical Center. During his heyday, McCarthy made Communists appear from under every rock, and there were probably some who wished Houdini were still around in the 50's, so he could have made McCarthy disappear.
Next down the road is Oshkosh, famous for sawdust, airplanes, and bib overalls. Known as the "Sawdust City" back in the late 1800's, the city proved to be a natural storage facility for the lumber industry. More recently, Oshkosh has become the center of the experimental airplane business, hosting the yearly Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) International Fly-In, when hundreds of home-built and experimental craft fly in, and owners and builders swap stories. Be sure to see the EAA Adventure Museum near route 41 and SR44. The town is also home to the clothing manufacturer, OshKosh B'Gosh, and most of us as kids or farmers have owned a pair of their famous bib overalls.
Fond Du Lac, at the "bottom" of Lake Winnebago, is home to one of North America's largest tool manufacturers, and to Mercury Marine, makers of outboard motors and boats. Around the area, visit historic homes, farmer's markets, sausage and cheese shops, and recreational facilities. Also be sure to see the turn-of-the-century Galloway House and Village, and Blakely Museum off route 41 and SR175. Be sure to stop in and say hello to Grace and Jerry Mielke, at the Kristmas Kringle Shoppe. Here you will find over 70 theme-decorated Christmas Trees, including a Green Bay Packer tree, as well as hundreds of other ornaments, gifts, and collectibles. Check out the Harley Davidson tree, the Motorcycle tree, the sports tree, the Santa tree, the snowman tree, the Mickey Mouse tree, trees from different countries, the Doctor tree, and the Dentist tree. Dentist tree, dentistry, get it? Check out the Bohemian Christmas ornaments. Check out the Czech ornaments.
We travel south through rural Wisconsin, and head for Milwaukee, Wisconsin's largest city. If you are into geese, take a sidetrip just west of Route 41, to the Horicon Marsh Wildlife area, where, at certain times of the year, you can see hundreds, no, make that thousands of geese and ducks. The din is truly unbelievable.
As we near Milwaukee, route 41 joins up with Route 45 for awhile. 45, like 41, is another north-south highway that travels the mid-section of the country, from the Upper Peninsula and Lake Superior, to the waters of Mobile Bay in Alabama. We are on a 4 lane limited access highway now, as we come through Germantown and Menominee Falls on the Veteran's Memorial Highway.
Coming into Milwaukee, the highway becomes a street, Appleton Avenue. We are astounded to see a street walker in broad daylight, modeling the latest in lingerie as she plies her trade. Would this ever transpire in Hancock or Houghton? We doubt it, and wonder what brought about such a disparate difference in culture?
We pass near Mount Mary College, and into a bonafide neighborhood, Uptown Crossing. Lisbon Avenue, running northwest by southeast, joins us (or we join it?) We pass a new ball park, gotta find out what that is all about, some baseball fan would probably know all about it, but since we're not into baseball, well... we'll find out.
Route 41 gets a little tricky here in the city, 43rd St., turn east on National, south on 27th... The kids are getting out of school, they look just like the kids in our neighborhood, the uniform of the day is uniform from one place to another, sloppy clothes, baggy pants, young ladies looking like trollops, earrings everywhere, a slovenly look. We stop at a light and are jarred by the sound coming from the vehicle in back of us. Do these kids not know that they are going to go deaf, that they are going deaf listening to the music so loud that it can be heard a block away? Why is there such a general lack of civility in our cities, why the lack of manners and courtesy? Hasn't anyone every told these kids that it would be inconsiderate of others to play their music at ear-shattering levels? Why is there no respect for the older generation by the kids? Why is road rage so widespread? It appears that we have raised a generation of brats, of spoiled children who have no regard for others.
Milwaukee is home of the Brewers and the brewers. Immigrants from the old country built this town. Neighborhoods of Germans and Poles, Irish and Scandinavians. Although route 41 doesn't go through the downtown, there is much to see not far from our path. Take a side-trip there to see the lakefront, the art center and war memorial, and the public museum. Drive around town and see the old public library building, the zoo, and if they're in town, take in a ballgame at County Stadium, home of the American League Brewers. They are building a new stadium next door, Miller Park, might be up and running by the time you get there. Before the game, take the kids to Discovery World, where they can play hands-on with more than 140 scientific exhibits. Finish the day off with a German meal at any of hundreds of fine local restaurants.
We creep our way through Milwaukee, for in all the northern tier of states in the US, there are two seasons, winter, and construction. It is construction season as we make our way slowly through Milwaukee, and we creep from one barricade to another. Oklahoma Avenue. Alverno College is to the west. The Route 41 Twin Outdoor Theater. The movies have made a comeback over the last decade, and likewise, the outdoor theater. It must be a generational thing. Once during each generation, there is a revival of the outdoor theater. An opportunity to watch a movie under the stars. To make out in the front seat of the family car. To make the trek to the concession stand for popcorn, and watch the fireworks during intermission.
South of Milwaukee, Route 41 becomes part of Interstate 94 and runs at 65 miles per hour pass an array of outlet malls and adult book emporiums. East of us, at the lake (Michigan), are Racine and Kenosha. If you'd like some good stick-to-your-ribs (literally!) food, stop at the Taste of Wisconsin restaurant at exit 344. While not the healthiest grub, you can enjoy typical German food cooked Wisconsin style, and (last chance) pick up some cheese and souvenirs to go.