Michelle's Musings

Recently I watched a video of a man in Tennessee, who tried to bring home the honor or largest pumpkin in his state. At 910 pounds, the gargantuan squash fell short of the title, topping 1,700 lbs. 

But when life hands you giant pumpkins, there is but one thing to do–make a pumpkin boat. So that’s what he did, and the clip shows him paddling down a waterway, a hole carved in the top, like some kind of fantastical kayak. 

Giant pumpkin growing is an actual thing, and if you have never seen this spectacle, I suggest you put it on your bucket list. I first became aware of competitions for the largest pumpkin back in 2003 when I began working at a paper called the Anamosa Journal-Eureka.

The town held an event called Pumpkinfest and the Ryan Norlin Pumpkin Weigh-off. Ryan was a boy who raised giant pumpkins with his uncle. He was killed in a tragic boating accident, and his family and town members began the weigh-off to honor his memory. 

I was very much looking forward to a long awaited trip to Memphis from with my longtime friend Wendy. She lives in New Orleans and we decided to meet in Memphis for a long weekend to see Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, who is on his farewell tour, aptly named “Roll Me Away.” 

I have been to Memphis several times, but it had been about 20 years since I had stayed downtown. Walking around downtown was a strange juxtaposition of desolation and gentrification. Main Street is a tourist hot spot with upscale restaurants and shops, and it goes right past Court Square, where many homeless people sleep at night. 

I have touched on homelessness in the past in this column, but what I have not revealed is the reason I am an advocate for helping the homeless (aside from just plain humanitarianism). I was once homeless and living in my car. 

I am a label reader. I cook mostly from scratch, but sometimes I want something prepackaged, particularly snack food. 

I started reading labels because I didn’t want preservatives, dyes and artificial flavors in my food. Then, I also wanted to avoid high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), and now, palm oil. 

The label reading began because I personally didn’t want to ingest processed and potentially harmful chemicals. The palm oil, however, is strictly about the environment and the destruction of habitat. Orangutans, which were declared the closest relative to humans about a decade ago, are the most hard hit by the harvest of palm oil. 

This is something that came to my attention a few years ago, and prompted me to stop buying most peanut butter, including those proclaiming to be “natural.” I also had to give up Girl Scout cookies much to my great dismay and sadness. No more Thin Mints for me. 

Protest is part of our fiber, our existence, as Americans. Our country was literally founded on protest, specifically a monarchy that imposed high taxes, exported resources, and ruled from afar. 

The Minutemen were adamant about overthrowing the oppressive British government. Most of us are well versed in some version of revolutionary history, even if it is just Paul Revere riding through the streets announcing that the “the British are Coming!” We know that they were successful in their coup against the throne. 

When the forefathers set about drafting the Bill of Rights, the very first Amendment was concerned free speech, including the right to peaceful protest. It reads: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

One thing I learned early on when coming to the Madison area is that there are a lot of pot smokers around here. I remember driving around last summer and smelling the sweet-scented smoke wafting from a window or yard every few blocks.

I also wrote a story early on at the Times-Tribuneabout medicinal and recreational bills introduced to the Wisconsin legislature last year. Most notably, I talked to Melissa Sergeant, who has introduced several bills with the intent of legalizing the widely used plant. It failed last year. Not one to give up, apparently, she introduced another recreational legalization bill in May of this year–the fourth she has presented.

The bill probably doesn’t have the legs to get off the ground as most Republican legislators have remained strictly opposed to the idea of full legalization, and only support heavily restricted medicinal use, also illegal in the state. 

I heard a staggering statistic on the radio the other day as I was stopped on the beltline, sipping my morning coffee: Suicide is the 10^th leading cause of death for people aged 10-34 in the United States, and second leading cause of death for people aged 10-34. You read that right, second leading cause of death for those 10-34.

Everyone in this country has been touched by suicide in some way. Depression can often lead to suicide and the stigma surrounding mental health care and wellness has played a part in people refusing help.

The first time I experienced a suicide by someone I knew was in high school. Shon, a guy who was a sophomore when I was a senior, killed himself after his parents, who were out of town, found out the police had been called because he was throwing a party. In his note he said he did not want to go back to military school, which he feared would happen when his strict parents returned. 

I was 14 the summer Lady Diana Spencer married Charles Prince of Wales in 1981, only five years younger than Diana herself. I had friends with sisters her age.

I remember watching the seemingly fairy tale wedding, with young, innocent Diana emerging from a meticulous carriage, a fluff of ivory silk, pearls and sequins. To be cliché, she was glowing. I was not the only one watching that day, millions of people around the world watched as the heir to the British throne took his much younger bride.

Diana’s life was well documented by the media from dating Prince Charles, to the birth of her children, to her husband’s affair and Queen Elizabeth finally ordering them to divorce. Along the way Diana was many things to many people, a fashion icon, a doting mother, an international celebrity, and most importantly, a humanitarian. 

I really thought that the opponents to ATC’s Cardinal-Hickory Creek (CHC) high voltage power lines might actually have a chance at stopping the utility. 

I was wrong.

When I first started working in Middleton, I was commuting back and forth from Iowa, taking Hwy 151 all the way. The first trip I made to our Black Earth office piqued my curiosity with all the signs opposing the CHC line. Of course, soon after meeting Matt Geiger, editor of the Mt. Horeb Mailand former Times-Tribuneeditor, I asked, “So, what’s up with the no ATC signs?”

He gave me a brief history of the project plans and the opposition to the line. My first thought was, “Wow, with so many people opposed, it will never pass.”

I have been surrounded by toads and frogs lately. I know what some of you might be thinking: Well, we are in a wetland, so there will be frogs and toads.

Although this is true, it seems there have been an unusual number of amphibians near me of late. If all started out right before I went to Colorado in July. I was mowing our lawn and came across many toads, including one that sat and watched me mow the area in which it had been resting before the deafening whir of the ancient push mower rousted it from its otherwise cool and quiet spot. I figured the Lawn Boy would scare the bejeezus out of it, but instead it sat nearly motionless and watched me. 

I have seen a toad at my house before, typically burrowed in the cool, shaded soil next to my front door. On this occasion, there were six that I counted, and maybe more, that came out of the shadows as a worked the mower around the lawn.

I was driving past Burger King the other day when I saw a sign that read, “Try the Impossible Whopper.” For a second it didn’t register and I thought, “What is an Impossible Burger?” Then immediately remembered, “Oh a ‘bloody,’ veggie burger.”

I have not been eager to try one of these scientific marvels, a veggie burger that looks, and supposedly tastes, like the real thing, in spite of liking a real burger to be no more than pink in the middle. My friend, Olivia, however, has been obsessed with them since the moment they came out and was dying for her grocery store to offer the home version, Beyond Burgers.

She called me right after she first got a chance to consume one, and marveled at their likeness to real meat. The texture, the flavor and the look were melding together to make this the perfect veggie burger, according to Olivia.