We're in Wisconsin

Driving through the Wisconsin countryside, I can almost forgive my ancestors' shortsighted vision of a country of unlimited wealth and resources.

I've come to pick up Rachel in Spring Green, WI—where she is currently crafts artisan for the American Players Theatre—and will be trucking her back tomorrow to the land of sun and surf. Not having my wife has been pretty tough these three months. Thanks to anti-depressants, I've survived, but I'm glad to see that light rush through the tunnel. We've been pretty busy these past five days. I'm not much into reviewing movies, but I highly recommend Batman: The Dark Knight (as if I weren't the last man to see it) and Step Brothers. I can also recommend Arthur's Steakhouse for anyone who happens to be passing by Spring Green. Come on Friday; that's the steak buffet. And if you have both a river and your significant other nearby, grab a paddle and experience nature without the intermediary of a 52" flat-screen TV.

Being in Wisconsin reminds me of what life must have been like before my time. What life must have been like before computers, cell phones, giant construction projects, and endless highway repair. That is not to say that Wisconsin does not have these—there are Madison and Milwaukee after all—but Wisconsin still has those pleasant places where you can get away. There are entire regions without cell phone service; the area is more wide open than WIFI. Living in Alabama, I became accustomed to sparse populations of peasants trying their best to improvise a phone from a tin can. If a neighborhood had no streetlights, it is because it could not afford them. Wisconsin's backwoods are something different. There is a sense that Wisconsinites (or Wisonsonians or Wisonsinians) shun the big cities because they like to see the stars.

Before I left Alabama, I went with my father and mother to see Crosby, Stills, and Nash at the Wharf. While I enjoyed the concert—and I think Teach Your Children was a special moment for everyone—I was struck by the fleeting relevance of their message. CSN, like many boomers, decried war while gleefully spending war's spoils. How many protesters went to college on the GI bill? But more to the point: how can we denounce a war for oil (or resources in general) while pumping out ear-shattering decibels underneath a poorly orchestrated light show?

Spending the time in Wisconsin has proven to me that a return to those lost days of pre-Industrial life might not be as bad as it all seems, as long as we don't lose our heads. CSN, I solute your continued protests against this generation's Vietnam led by this generation's Nixon, but I believe it is time to listen to these quiet Wisconsonianites: it's time we start playing acoustic.