On the Richard Record

As I often do, I found myself lost in thought one rainy night looking through photos from my time in Controller Bay, Alaska. The photos sparked a distant memory for any 20-year-old. A memory of a time I can barely even recall today, except for those few core memories that stick with someone for a lifetime. Growing up a huge Wisconsin Badger fan, it was no question that I wanted to write my fifth-grade color poem on the color red. Red is not my favorite color, but there is nothing comparable to a jam-packed, jumping Camp Randall Stadium, a maple leaf in fall about to shed a water drop to the grouse trail, or anything else that contains the powerful pigment. This red, though, isn’t representative of my childhood in the badger state. It’s a red that was more distant than the memory of my fifth-grade years. A red I didn’t even know existed, but glad I was able to find it.   It’s the red of a Red Knot   While trying to recall the original red poem crafted by a younger and l...

I was at one of my favorite places, but she was in a world of her own. I never knew what she was thinking, but one day she thought she should jump. Like everyone, I have encountered many places throughout my life, but only a few can be classified as “favorites.” Almost every summer since I met her, she and I spent many holiday weekends at Dehne’s River Resort, our family cottage in Horicon, Wis. It was a day like any other. I woke still smelling of campfire smoke from the night before, the air conditioner blowing a cool breeze in my face. After a late breakfast, I was searching for my first activity of the day. I decided on a smooth pontoon ride aboard “La Buque Verde” on that warm and sunny Fourth of July afternoon. Although not very green ship-like during the Fourth of July due to the overabundance of Uncle Sam decorations, it graced the green waters of the Rock River every summer since I can remember. Before she jumped, I would always remember her brown eyes on that special ...