Some noteworthy people have died in this, the death of winter, and my computer is over a virus of its own, so here are the cold facts:
— Yes, Shirley Temple has passed on, and not from liver or kidney disease, I’m sure. To keep that from happening locally, a man at Guv’s Place in Houlton asked the bartender to take away a half-empty — of course we won’t say half-full — glass of beer, and he then ordered a Shirley Temple drink in honor of her death. That same night, there was also plenty of talk about Flappy Birds, the popular video game. It was abruptly recalled after a gamer was killed, and prices for phones with it still on were selling for thousands on e-Bay. My friend Joe put his phone up for sale at the cut-rate of $4,000 but had no luck, possibly because a bartender said in response to his eager description of the game, “Flappy Who?”
— Actor Harold Ramus also is dead, and it’s not from a hubcap chicken bone. However, it is true that Ramus co-star Bill Murray was a good friend of the late owner of Dick’s Bar and Grill, Fred Kremer, and going back years, either of the Ghostbuster actors would dine here when they were in town on business, such as with ownership of the St. Paul Saints. Once my friend Marcy noticed that it was Ramus at a table and when serving him a drink messed with him and asked to see ID. She then gleefully showed her co-workers in the kitchen. I’m guessing that the drink was the house brand of Lucky Dog; at least it was lucky for Marcy.
— Also at that tavern, it was first seen that the Perfesser from Gilligan’s Island also had died, renewing the old debate of Ginger vs. Mary Ann. A bit later at the Oscars, there was another show biz item with a local tie-in, the nominations from a film about ocean-going Captain Phillips (by an aging Tom Hanks) who fought Somali pirates (no models themselves), and had River Falls relatives who kept a vigil while TV news unfolded. Let it be known there was no such hottie vs. hottie debate this time.
— There were three forms of “Cash” at recent Jeff Loven, one-man-band shows, (and they were not down-payments on that “new car” he always gives away at trivia contests). Guest artist Dave sang the oft-covered Folsom Prison Blues while sounding eerily like Johnnie Cash himself, longtime patron Justin was the first person in recent memory to shout out the answer while sitting far away in the other room, and a couple, while getting some money at the outdoor ATM and not having their transaction be frozen, prompted me to say, “hey, are you getting some cold, hard cash?” Ugh. Almost as hard as how I accidentally bit my lip recently when quasi-slam-danced by a groupie while I sang.
— What’s with all these people from around Miami who come to Hudson at times when there’s weather they just can’t handle? A friend of mine was at Dick’s waiting to meet up with his new on-line girlfriend, who a while back had hopped a bus from Florida and was now on her way here, facing temperatures that got colder with each state line crossed. We joked that maybe he should go there, or that she might turn around and hop a bus back to the Orange State about the time she hits Ohio. (I later found out that is indeed where she is from). Happily, I saw the couple dancing downtown the other night, so I know she actually arrived, and there was teasing about if she could fit in with the Wisconsin drinking tradition, since is was said hotter temps thin your blood. Then, at Green Mill, a couple of women who I must admit were not really that juiced, joked that “you can’t 86 us, we’re Floridians.” Apparently they thought they wouldn’t make it far if trudging back to their nearby motel rooms. Not to be outdone, earlier in March a California girl who had hopped a plane to come here but didn’t think that she could just stay at the airport, asked if someone could lend her a coat. Since this is not the beach, better give her some layers of clothing too.
— The continuing cold had brought back memories of rare such temperatures last winter, when at one time snowballs shaped like hockey pucks rolled across the snowy sidewalk outside of Dick’s, blown by icy winds and leaving a long track. Inside I had seen on TV that there is a weather term for this, but being near last call, I am a bit fuzzy on the details. As far as another weather-related term, icebergs, there is no truth to the rumor that it’s been so cold there have been some of these seen floating down the (now frozen) St. Croix River. It is true that a man was seen wearing a costume downtown of a snowsuit decorated as a skeleton.
— On the same day, metro daily newspapers harped that a officially prescribed prohibition would be kept in place despite the cold weather on the river — you still have to take down your ice house. So just after midnight on March 5, I saw a snow-plow-pulled shanty being hauled down Fourth Street North after being towed through the intersection with Sommers Street. A couple of nights later, there was a snowmobile trailer parked in roughly the same spot while also being put on ice for the season.
— A contest at Bert’s coffee shop had patrons guessing what would be the first day with temperatures above 50 degrees, which turned out to be Monday’s 53. Some jokester had guessed July Fourth. My guess is he’s either a curmudgeon, someone so patriotic he thinks the fireworks will push the number over the top, or both.
— It’s late in the snowmobile season, but this being Wisconsin, here is (at long last) a seasonal news tidbit from a long winter. Patrons at Guv’s said there’s a sorely needed snowmobile trail that should be added to take the machines from the east part of the county and Somerset area over to Houlton. This would also take them up to the Guv’s parking lot, a favorite watering hole of enough people to make such a spur worthwhile. What followed was a long discussion of rules in various municipalities of where you can and cannot drive them. Being active snowmobilers, it was surprising that they didn’t know you can’t do such sledding in the nearby village of North Hudson, going to bars or otherwise.
— A sign along Interstate 94 announced a reduced speed limit in a far lane because of construction, but it was accidentally tipped so the arrow pointed almost straight down. So I guess that when disobeying that order and going straight to hell, the necessary speed is 40 mph. Reminds me of interstate construction near Roberts this summer, when the detour sign saying that the Barnboard bar and grill was still open for business was it also tipped in such a way. Don’t think you can get a beer while curbside.
— A recent sign outside the Village Inn in North Hudson said it all about its former owner: “We love you Wolffie.” It is the second time this winter that signs outside both the Village and Kozy Korner, across the street, have mourned the loss of one of their own after a death that was anticipated finally came. Customer traffic at the Village broadened recently as people came to share their condolences and stories, and word had it that there was to be a much greater volume of people at the funeral, wearing the requested Packer green and gold and honoring one who could be a bit abrasive but still lovable.
— Bartender Jaret told me that his girlfriend is well-enough connected to get prime-seating tickets that run a hundred dollars or two — and enable them to see Pearl Jam at their home base in Seattle as the last stop of their recent tour. As you might expect, he said the grunge group’s performance was awesome and in a second version of that conversation, I pointed out that the trivia channel’s question of the moment had an answer about one of Pearl Jam’s venerable albums.
— Also at Buffalo Wild Wings, a patron was extra-chatty in the bathroom, which was unusual since we couldn’t see each other, as there was a stone divider between our two urinals that was taller than the players the establishment shows in their NBA games.
— Sure to be noticed, since it is only a hop, skip and jump from the downtown Hudson “party zone,” was the emergency scene in the parking lot outside of the Spirit Seller, where there was a recent Sunday triple shooting. Around noon there were “police line, no crossing” signs out and a sole squad car to be seen — both on my trip to and back from County Market — but by the time it was time of night for Jeff Loven, etc. all that partygoers could see remaining was a single “tale of the tape.”