While searching for unity, just don’t put the Christ Child, in a manger, in too prominent a place on the Christmas tree, if you dare to call it that. But some people of other faiths might not rake on you like you think. Like they might if you use the rake to Kick It, as in fallen leaves from the month before, into their undecorated yard.

But what when you invite all your neighbors, of various religions, under one roof for celebrating Christmas? Yes, you might want a big house over an intimate gathering, to create a buffer for when you choose. But it could be done, and it might not even be too difficult to decide which traditions to highlight — or discuss these with your guests. Gather at least four of these peoples of different faiths, around one tree, as that trait should work — just be sensitive in what you hang on it. Psst, a young adult Jesus, not other ages, might be best. See why below.

This was the year believe it or not. So hope you made the most of it. Four key religions, some normally at odds, coming together? In our just experienced unusual annum, Christmas Day was celebrated, and on the same day because of an occasionally, not-every-decade-seen oddity in the alignment of their calendars, Menorahs were lighted by the Jewish people as the start of the days of their celebration, some Muslims found various ways to get involved in selected festivities, and the Kashaa fest celebrated by Black people (big around the area of my Milwaukee family) entered into the fray on Dec. 26, taking over for Christmas basically to the second.

All of these seem like festivals of light to me.  

But I have worked on more than one newspaper where the headline was always some close manifestation of this phrase: Keep Christ In Christmas. In the last city where this was a December staple, right here in Hudson, it seemed that no other topic could be highlighted. I think this turned off some of the ethnically diverse professionals who were part of the commuter crowd.

Nextdoor to my brother’s house that is decorated with numerous lights and decorations and Christmas figures, some religious and some secular, is a home that recently became occupied by people they believe are Palestinian. No holiday decorations on the lawn there, spare a small hockey net that’s kitty-korner to the steps. No visible tree in front of any unshaded window. But a full nativity just across the lot line, courtesy of my brother.

But lookout across the street, there is a house in which a family from Vietnam reside, with literally thousands of individual lights, some flashing or scrolling or blinking or rolling, especially on the two-car garage door, but even with their brightness and Busta Move, it was hard to see because their party had already started, and cars were parked in front..

But back to my brother’s immediate neighbors, a google search showed that many people of such descent and belief also celebrate a few of the holiday traditions of Christians — even Jesus based — such as putting up lights or flashers, and exchanging gifts, although many of them choose this as a time to reflect then intentionally conserve their money and/or utilize it for a purpose that’s more needed than say toys or jewelry or clothes. Some even erect a tree, and may decorate it too, but they say the togetherness with family and friends and sharing a bountiful and thus sacred meal is more valued.

This may not be totally Christ centered, but he is in the picture, as Jesus is considered a major prophet, note I said major, in the Muslim Holy Book, which also teaches, get this, that he before “death” was assumed higher into a place of salvation by God. Not bad for someone whom some think they are supposed to despise. But wait, was Jesus not crucified? It is taught by them that a substitute who looks like him stood in for Jesus and was the one on the cross. Imagine pulling off this bait and switch. So Muslims don’t fully celebrate the birth itself, and forget the crucifixion and Easter. I’m not a student of the Koran, so I’m not sure how or if the shepherds and Three Wise Men are slotted in. How would the three men weigh in if reigning in immigration court? Two of three, not four of seven, ruling for you would keep you here? I’m sure someone would appeal. Again and again …

So in this of all years, with everyone bickering about who should even be allowed here, and the plans for mass deportation, of even whole families who choose not to be split and make this their last and lost holiday season together, thicken and pick up smell, it was still possible for the believers in some of the largest religions in the world to celebrate simultaneously, if not a bit differently, and maybe even (if unleavened) break bread together — if indeed they all feast in that same manner. So why don’t we all issue each other an invitation.

Until then, see the music video of The Christmas Truce as done by heavy metal band Sabaton, a true story where both the entrenched Allied and German troops on Christmas Eve put down their arms and feasted and kicked the soccer ball around together, before they again resumed brutal fighting once Christmas had past, rifling balls of lead not woven cloth.

See you, all of you, next year in Jerusalem?

But first …

Here at HudsonWiNightlife, the idea has been floated to bring in other voices to the conversation, although that has proven to be far flung and in the future. Or so I thought.

The guest writer, whose work follows, moved that far forward fast. Someone I may at some point collaborate with, a budding musician who also writes lyrics, said I should in the foregoing run some great song-like poems by an older relative who is close to him. When I saw it, running this stuff during the just ending holiday season seemed a foregone conclusion. So I moved it to the forefront. But this site being what it is, I could have used a bit more foreboding and questioning. As in honor the message — and like my own writing it brings in God, either in well-chosen spots or full-blown forays — but bring in irony when appropriate. With that said, and to further align it with this site, when you read through, carefully, you may see similarities to the work of artists in heavy metal, a staple of this site, from Maiden to Metallica to even Motorhead. And rare here and there for her, again pick and choose, the presence of doubt you see more often in those other bands. But a strong faith is good, and there is room for many places on that range. That said, again, enjoy this poetry in this season. Good stuff. Joy from often jolly Joy.   

“A Sight Unseen”

By Joy Conrad

You shed your tears, for I am blind

Please don’t cry; I really don’t mind.

I have seen the light and it guides my way:

And I will see the face of God some day.

Weep for those who have their sight, 

But cannot see wrong from right.

For they live in darkness – not I who am blind,

You must see in one’s heart and beauty you’ll find.

Don’t cry for me because I am poor, 

I have more riches than ever before.

I have God’s love in my heart to glow:

Shining brighter than all the gold you could show.

Yet, weep for those who cherish their things;

For only God’s love is what happiness brings.

Don’t cry for me because I move so slow,

God doesn’t mind waiting for me – you know, 

Shed your tears for those who run fast,

Not seeing the beauty they have just passed.

Hurrying along without a moment to spare – 

Not even knowing what God has to share.

They stumble and fall and don’t understand:

Yet I walk slow – God holding my hand.

“True Love is Worth Waiting For”

By Joy Conrad

Waiting and waiting is sometimes hard to do.

Waiting for that someone whose love will be so true. 

The temptations of life are so hard to resist – 

I sometimes wonder if that someone does exist.

But, deep within my heart, there he’s a strong fate – 

That soon I will find my so much dreamed of mate.

His love will be honest, clean, and true,

A love that’s understood by few.

But, to each other our love will be fulfilled

Through the hands of true love that God hath willed.

Before we go back to more Joy …

— As a follow-up, boy did my brother come through on Christmas with all the gear, as far as decorating. This says it: Multiples of both Christmas trees and full nativities. Even at least one decoration in every bathroom. Dozens of not just bulbs, but also balls and bells on even the smallest tree. But as far as nativities, once past his neighborhood and its very nice houses, I saw a craggy cracked small nativity that looked like it was about to drop wood pieces. I thought that in reality, sans lights so bright, this was more like what the first Christmas probably looked like. And the advent calendar, the Old School one with doors you open while you wait, had been appropriately placed on the door of a further back room.

The holiday, or just prior, for a bell-ringer I saw was also less than comfortable, if not cozy. It was the first real cold snap, and it was bitter. Earlier in the day it had been in the 40s with little wind. So the bell-ringer thought he need not look at the weather report, and it showed in his dress. But there was the gathering area of a store for a very occasional less-than-two-minute warmup. I asked him if he had looked at the weather report, and the question he kinda dodged, simply saying he had volunteered for the job and signed up back before Thanksgiving. All over town, there were late-breaking sessions for free gift-wrapping for those late shoppers, each across multiple venues. Once home for the holidays I was naughty and didn’t get a last trio of gift cards until the noon hour, Dec. 24. The Olive Garden was practically filled with bags, mostly grocery style, that were partway full. I thought they were either doing the ultimate holiday charitable giveaway, or people had yet to arrive for a pickup catered Christmas. Seems it was a combo of both. One woman had several bags of prepared food lugged out. I guess she did not have to cook this day. — 

Now Joy picks up where she left off …

“In My Heart Forever”

By Joy Conrad

You are the only one I love and will forever more.

You’ve given me the love I’d never known before. 

A love that is more than love, and words I must look to find.

To express the feelings that are always there,

In my heart and in my mind.

And Darling soon we’ll be together and words we will not speak,

Yet in the moments the meaning of true love we’ll seek.

Together we will always share all the happiness life can give.

Forever Darling my heart is yours, my life for you I live.

“Our Savior”

By Joy Conrad

Jesus, our Savior, our Truest Friend

When our hearts are broken, He will mend.

He is the way, the Guiding Light, 

To help us through each day and night.

Each one of our hearts he wins;

So that our lives be not of sins.

He will help us to do right.

For we are always in His sight.

Jesus is Whom we really need

No matter who, what color, or creed!

“Flying”

By Joy Conrad

Lord, I’m looking from above

At the wondrous land filled with your Love.

The clouds so mellow, the sky so blue,

And I feel your love through and through.

Oh, how you have touched me, knowing you are near,

To ease the pain and sorrow of the unknown that I fear.

It’s trusting in You and believing Your Word.

No words are spoken, yet I’ve heard

The beauty of life You’ve given me;

Yet, I know the hereafter is a glory with Thee.

May I live my life, and You guide me through

With peace, and love, and joy with You!

“I’m Walking With You, Lord”

By Joy Conrad

You are with me wherever I go;

Without You, the sun doesn’t shine; a star doesn’t glow.

When I need help, You’re a Friend who’s there:

To comfort, to love, and show You care.

You reach out in darkness and make it light

I do the wrong thing and You show me what’s right.

Forgetting my faults, forgiving the wrong

You take me hand as we walk along.

When I’m walking too fast, Lord, You slow me down.

You ease my heart – make a smile from a frown.

The path may be rough, the hills steep and wide

But, I’ll make the journey with You by my side!

“Friendship”

By Joy Conrad

Friendship is a beautiful and priceless gift,

It is one you give as well as receive.

A friend is someone who is there when you need help

He laughs with you in joy, comforts you in sadness.

A friend reaches out with understanding and openness.

He lends a hand before he is asked.

A friend forgives.

When you need someone to talk to day or night…

A friend will listen, he will hear you.

He will stand by you, but never step on you.

A friend will guide you, but never rule you.

A friend will give from his heart

And make sure he never breaks yours.

A friend – someone in your life who says – 

“Thank you” for being my friend!

“Up On the Mountain”

By Joy Conrad

Looking down from the mountain, Lord, 

At the beauty you have poured.

The trees, the grass the sun’s warmth I receive;

And from my heart saying – in You I believe!

You’ve given me life, You’ve given me love;

You’ve given me strength from above.

You’ve touched my heart in sorrow,

Reached out when I needed you there.

And trusting in You, I know, 

No burden or hardship is too great to bear!

So often, Lord, I find myself hurrying through the day,

Not taking time to thank You for all You’ve sent my way.

So looking down from the mountain Lord – 

I’m looking up to You!

“For Mary’s Son”

By Joy Conrad

If I cannot reach you with my arms, 

Let me reach you through my heart.

You are my son and always will be;

Even though we are apart.

Times are hard and I wish I were there…

To tell you son how much I care.

Sometimes I’m alone and the tears fill my eyes;

I’m thinking of you and I hear your cries.

I’m not always right, but I try my best – 

I guess God is putting us through a test.

But, through my heart and God’s love – please understand…

And when I’m not there — let Him take your hand.

For Chuck’s Mom – “Margaret Conrad”

By Joy Conrad

Dear Mom –

I know I’ve said it so many times before;

But “love” cannot be said too much

For someone I adore.

You’ve reached out and touched me 

In so many ways,

Giving me the sunshine if it were a gloomy day.

Caring and giving of yourself in all you do,

Being so “special” because you’re just “you!”

Giving me strength and helping me grow

You saw my faults but never let me know.

You were always there before I could ask –

To help no matter what the task.

“Love” – a special word from my heart;

And no matter where you are, we’re never apart.

“One Yellow Rose”

By Joy Conrad

I give this rose with lasting love

And I feel your presence from above.

I think of you as each day goes by

And cherish the memories that never die.

I remember your unselfish heart and giving way;

The sunshine you put in every day.

The memories of how much you cared

And that special warmth you always shared.

Your courage and strength, so incredibly true.

When I began to fall, you carried me through.

As I give this rose and my heart cries;

Life must end, but love never dies!

“Anthony David Tutrone II”

By Joy Conrad

A baby boy entered this world on June 28, 1964.

A cute little bundle we all grew to adore.

Yet, life was a struggle for this one to keep alive;

Like a “Tiger” he fought and fought to survive.

God has blessed him with courage, strength, and ambition;

Sincerity, kindness, faith, and devotion.

He’s served his school in sports, in council, and more.

Achieved awards none had achieved before.

He’s admired by his fellow students; loved by his family and friends.

The list of his accomplishments never seems to end.

He believes in equality, what’s fair, and that justice survives.

There is no prejudice seen through his eyes.

His goals he sets high, as his future nears

He overcame doubts and shuns those fears.

He is walking through life – each step firm and strong –

God taking his hand as they walk along.

“You Never Left My Side”

By Joy Conrad

How many times I have failed you, Lord.

I’ve let you down when I should have tried.

Yet, You never left my side.

When I felt alone and had no one to care.

Fought out in anger and reached despair.

I felt you there when all I defied.

You never left my side.

I’ve taken the wrong road and you turned me around:

‘Til the path to Your door I again found. 

You let me in and held me when I cried.

You never left my side.

You’ve forgiven me and made me whole.

Touched my heart and healed my soul. 

In Your faithful love we will always abide;

You never left my side.

“As I Look Into My Life”

By Joy Conrad

To understand myself is truly a goal,

To look into my heart and search my soul.

To let go of the old and grasp onto the new;

To live life to the fullest as God intended me to do.

To conquer my fears, as they have conquered me;

To be more than I hoped I could be!

To love unconditionally as my Lord loves me,

To look deeper than only what I see.

To realize success is only knowing that I’ve tried;

To know happiness is measured from the inside.

To not judge a man until I’ve traveled in his shoes;

To reach out to others, telling them the “Good News!”

To grow and learn what I do not understand

To let God guide my life as He takes my hand.

The end.

Tree up, towards the middling skies above, and I’m thinking heaven past that! Tree down, mom takes a breath, at least these days. … Christmas is not about gift-getting, (you don’t have to wrap a tree, at least not in the formal sense), or gift-giving, (you only need one tree, really, but oodles of gifts), rather it’s all about decorating, and maybe they’ll do it for you if you give them the keys to the closet. But we flat-out need a tree. And it better be a balsam, Mr. Grinch.

To tree or not to tree? I know what my brother thinks. And my mom. I’m somewhere between …

It never used to be Christmas without one. When in college, early years in the work force, and later once the hours required waned and the vacation time had been built up, it was always home for the holidays and at the centerpiece of each celebration was – a usually massive tree. At the house where I reside the other 51.5 or so weeks of the year, sometimes one was put up sometimes not, with the coin flip usually going against in the last decade or two. At the same time, in the last few years my mom has either also opted in that direction, since it was a lot of work for her, but less when the grandchildren took over the task. The youngest had long ago taken over the role of chief decorator, and he knew just where each and every ornament had to go! I have never taken the time during the busy present unwrapping event to ask him if he had a favorite.

—When leaving a downtown bar, I noticed someone had placed a big candy cane-shaped decoration into the thick snow. No wait a minute, until I got closer and looked closer, it was actually a dead plant sized like a cat-tail but partially bent over. Think I gotta get off the sauce … The best decked out vehicle though, even beside the decorated trucks we see, is the Hudson-based bus company that has one of its fleet set out by the street, showing strings of colored lights bulbing out in all the right places – you know,  along the narrow-crack door edges that run up and down and across. One of our fine grill and bars closes at 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve, but lets you known with the same small sign on its door that last call is not until 3:30 p.m. An earlier day, but not by much, that snow plow, or was it another implement, on an icy city street during a snowstorm sure was hauling ass. And not to a now-its-melting manger. On the other end of things, that street de-icing machine built the size of the lawnmower, and booking it down a main road, really wasn’t going fast enough to not block traffic. —

But this year, the Christmas tree at my brother’s house, always outranking the reaching-toward-the-heavens cathedral ceiling for importance, underscored a lack that pro-typical balsam fir at my mom’s condo. I wrapped a last present and turned my torso to place it under a tree that was not there. But I still remain OK with the idea of staring only into the figurative eyes and heart of that figure – the tree at the brother’s home, for decades, that lunges more than a dozen feet in the air nearly at the exact point of a pair of skylights.

The traditional bulbs are always the best, orbs with colored foil that caved in, with more folds, at just the right places of the circle with a spire, some going back to when I was a very small child and at grandma’s house, too. All the trees, no matter at whose house, had a style of shape that was widest at the very bottom, but had somewhat straggly branches that could be snipped or culled completely, leaving room for presents. Although the biggest boxes had to be housed until Christmas alongside, or maybe even in back of the tree, if that’s where the lower branches were slimmest. Good thing we gave that tree a last twist, when setting it up, so it turns out that there were practicality and not just beauty reasons.

Back to mom. She still put up some of the standard, as in being around multi-generationally and as such obligatorily, decor stuff on all the cabinet and end-table tops, to no end, or this time there was one. The nativity was still there, and next to it a tiny makeshift pine tree I once bought mom for Christmas, although both were missing most of their small stones on the roof, or sparkly thingees attached to the end of branches, respectably and respectfully. By the front door, there were the two wooden and painted planks, made when mom did a holiday bold paint job on them with her grand-daughters at a class for doing such, at a local business that specializes in doing such. (I on my end did an advertorial for Cheers Pablo on such things and they stiffed me. So naughty or nice, and coal in their stocking, and I think that is part of what is handcrafted.) But Christmas cookies were a half-and-half deal as far as volume, and none of that famous (moreso than in most cases, the term applies) cranberry sauce with other fruit add-ins, or punch, spiked or otherwise. I know my sister-in-law will more than make up the difference in a (mid)holiday meal.

I know that back at my first home to call such as an adult, getting the tree just right – in those early years when my wife and I decided to have one – can be a push and pull that can lead to squabbles. As can the process of sweeping and vacuuming and picking up personally needles that drop That First Time Up The Stairs. Every single Grinch-like needle, and don’t dare miss one! And to cut off the bottom base of the trunk – they call it hard wood for a reason — later done out in the garage but varying in location depending on the size of tree, and how it grew in the middle years, then dwindled. The thick screws that gave support to the old-fashioned metal stand, colored red and green with some gray streaks from the scraping, never seemed to go in straight, always angling off to the side. The arms did the same, and are they actually called arms, or did I hear her shout directions wrong when standing just near enough to hold the tree by way of one of its sturdiest branches, but far enough away to be able to see if it was at least sorta straight. Could never seem to get that right, and “right” seems to be a word I’m using a lot here.

How do fix this whole situation? Joe always had a good idea that was bad in practice. There were an endless supply of wrong-size, just barely, widgets and jahoozits and many other words that you can almost spell to serve as splints and small joices, words my dad loved, and there were a few other words coming from me too blue to be printed – I believe that even new Catholics like I were told to go to what they used to call confession, PRIOR to Christmas not after when it’s really needed. They changed the term to make it softer and call it reconciliation? Not cuz of the likes of me! This is why Christmas is only once a year, to keep folks like me from building up (bad) points to ensure us of hell. OK, it wasn’t really that grievous, likely since God took one look at what my tree trimming had done to his once beautiful creation and He got distracted!

What, more tinsel, don’t we have enough hundreds of strings of tinsel on it already, and remember somebody has to take it off after 12 days, and Thank God there are that many days in the holiday, to give me time to decompress/procrastinate. And no, that there really is a bare or bald spot, that’s what’s coming to my head, and there is actually a traffic jam of orbs already, right where you are pointing …

So abrupt ending to end this essay … no more words too, to throw at you.

Happy holidays and Merry Christmas, Joe.

The price of a (small) spruce is up to hundreds? Balsam besides. So I pine away. Eva Gabor of Green Acres didn’t have to worry about this, because I think she played the stock market well. Because of this doing, had plenty of dough. So she didn’t have to raise one herself.

To the point: Price gouging is a gift that keeps on giving, galore and they gotcha and just keep grabbing more, or keeping you from doing the same. Harris had that nagging woe natilly nailed, with her platform that had few planks because why, price of wood is so high and she was being outspent. But going back to gouging, just how can this all be? And how is it playing out in the fact that it’s much tougher to load up under the tree, or get one straight and tall, much less buy it to start with? The star on top might fade, and lights flicker away.

— Is BOGO a Christmas term? Is Two Minutes To Midnight an Xmas jingle? These are a pair of last minute holiday gift ideas that as such are beyond what’s become the usual buy $100 worth, and get $25, or even just $20: (1) At the Dairy Queen, Hudson branch only, half-off on gift certificates in virtually any domination, if you want to increase your winter chill with some ice cream. Nothing says and sells seasons like a Blizzard. (2) At Kwik Trip, a total of two BOGO tickets for Bucky Badger to their own Holiday Face-Off college hockey tournament down in Milwaukee, at the Fiserv Forum.

Or, you can just get brand-name cigs, and a two-pack and not solely in hip-hop, for $2 off, but you have to be a member of the loyalty club, so sign up! Oh yeah, the special is at Joe’s Mart on the south end of downtown Hudson, across from the DQ by the way, and let it be thus known that despite the name, I’m not a member of the ownership team  and have no vested or otherwise proprietary interest in their relatively new venture. —

The need just keeps on getting greater, for those marginally valued these days who are on the margin, right in time for the holidays and the season of give-that-killer-gift as one-upmanship concerning your affluent family, and Thank God and Goodness my very own family is beyond forgiving. They have put-up for years with my cheap White Elephant-turned-slate-gray — almost like the before-burnt color of coal that reasonably should be put in my stocking? — vague attempts at Xmas presents, all done in the name of it’s the thought that counts. But maybe if you burn that coal to a cinder — isn’t that kinda what the grinch did? — it becomes a bit whiter, to save the holiday. 

Backing up to describe the now-more-than-ever-need, when money for gifts is needed, even to be done by the needy. That nary-the-poor-price makeup note attached to the holiday card only goes so far. And I’m sure there are those who truly cannot scrounge up a White Elephant gift or dish to pass.  

I recall seeing some pretty good looking, surplus furniture being set out for free on the lawn of The Phipps Center For The Arts, and it was all snapped up before nightfall. And that occurrence was in summer.

Food pantries and various other distribution places are seeing greater and greater numbers of clients, judging from a quick survey of such entities in the area. In my apartment building, the rate at which extra produce and dry goods that’s donated by residents so their neighbors can partake has stepped up in pace month by month. Same day as placed out, it’s often taken, and people are being less and less picky. This is time-of-month dependent, as for when people get their benefit checks, or these days direct deposits — there are no more actual food stamps, just plastic swipe cards that these days hey you never know, might have a chip incumbent or included or embedded or incurred — but even that benchmark on hang-tight-until-The-First-Of-The-Month is going by the wayside. Back to the people in my apartment complex and its gathering and food table station, who will settle for cans of free generic black beans becomes a barometer. Green beans maybe not as much so. And so many more people have to resort to going on the Greyhound bus, another barometer, or maybe can’t even afford the ticket.

The Haves among the Have Nots are doing quite well, thank you, and this is shown by the fact that while some of these people are placing old (easy) chairs out on the curb for free, some are just chucking out ones that some people would take, in the dumpster, sometimes more than one at once. (I myself have picked up from the curb a usable table, and also what looked like a wooden version of an Xmas Red Ryder to stack on top, to work as an overflow food pantry, and love the two-inch-wide strips on either side of it for stuffing stuff that kept encumbering my cabinet space, like counting up cake mixes.)

All this taps at something that the Democrats should have hammered home more often: Their candidate for the highest office in the land had said, on occasion, that she would go after, like she did in her day as DA, those charging ungodly high prices. She did not say just how she would minimize price gouging, as it was called, But that would resonate, you would think, with those whining about rises in grocery prices.

But how did grocery prices skyrocket, well beyond the factor of inflation? I don’t think it is your typical grocer, or farmer, making those extra bucks, and there of course is always the middle-man. But as I now shoot oddly from the hip, unlike the accuracy of Old School Matt Dillon As Marshal, look as you needed to do, and still must, past just Big Pharma. Go also with your wrath to Big Corp — and Big Insurance and Big Legal — as in the very-large-scale producers of things like those tractors and all kinds of wagons, and lots of other implements that plow the fields, and make products like fertilizers and seed and pesticides, (and these are being rounded up these days), and the list could go on forever. And don’t forget the crazy prices of real estate, as in the land to plant on. All these things drive up the cost to produce food, and it’s the big corporations who mass produce them, then sell them, at whatever the market will bear. And if you want to try to get insurance in a fire-ravaged area, good luck in its adjusting.

These factors are going to be there no matter who is in office, and that’s the case too with all the blow-up-everything wars across the world, and natural disasters that mess with their farmers getting food on your table. And with global warming and the havoc it has reeked with what-we’re-finally-now-seeing-as-delicate ecosystems, growing conditions are impaired. Even right here in Wisconsin we have seen the records fall, or close to it, in categories such as drought and flooding. Yes, both of them, in the same years.

Top that off with massive tariffs that will mean the extra cost has to be picked up by someone, and that’s you oh Joe Consumer, and things are not going to get better soon.

What we really need to do is go after That Sticky Circumstance Of The Stock Market. No amount of dividend or shares gaining greater value is going to be enough to satisfy the typical holder of stock in what, corporations! The more they get, the more they want, and feeding this machine becomes more important than ethical behavior. Even the dough paid out to greedy CEOs, large amounts of it seen in massive market holdings of their own stock, pales by comparison with these numbers. (I’ll check out actual numbers, to see just how bad this teller impact is, in a subsequent post.)

Until then, check out the song by get-this, British-based-band Dire Straits, called Industrial Disease, becoming his country’s fall from grace as a machining powerhouse. They have seen the problem since (shortly after?) the ’70s. The song tanked in the US, but was killer on the UK music charts, as they were ahead of us in this game, in recognizing the problem, and seeing things as global before it was a buzz word.

Also, in recent times being a CEO is not a walk in the park, and many are quietly or not so much so leaving their sky-high posts and coming down to earth. But too late, they have become a tangible symbol for corporate greed, as nobody is worth that much money — although a former co-worker, this back in the ’80s, got mad at me for saying such, as her father was a big-shot and with every penny!?! I refer to multiple verses in the Judas Priest song named Breaking The Law, and others of the like from this working class band from an industrial area, cramming a lot of thought into a tune that weighs in at just over two minutes long. So when that health corporation head exec was shot to death when out for a walk recently, does that violent act really surprise us? It shouldn’t.

Victim of Changes, sings the priest in a comparison I make. Without warning, somethings dawning.

Expanding on all this was a conversation, as speaking with others later reiterated, with whom else? Mom. This alleged crime should shock people, but in what way … Killing is not justified and anyway he did not have any direct dealings with the insurer, just a blanket – or I don’t have a blanket anymore since I gave mine to another now homeless person – grudge against need-to-be-very-much-all things corporate. This is where I differ from mom: Could the shooter have been narrowing it down to the health industry, and all that it is. But what if he got massively got screwed by some middle-man or broker to that company, with all its arms?  Or has a friend or relative to which that has happened. (Should someone like him thus vent anger even if he is not impacted in an immediate way, if like say myself, be it thrust out against a family member who is in the financial department, but not heading it, of a health care insurer?) Then the next news clip, where someone set on fire and killed a woman who was sleeping on a subway train. Will this criminal matter, by comparison, be subject to the “here today, gone from tomorrow’s news cycle” scenario? Because she apparently was homeless. I dare to compare. And as far as the idea that we revere some people but dismiss others because of the manner in which they die, see the System of a Down song Chop Suey.

Star Wars are nothing compared to the Local Store Wars that have woven their way back into the Hudson Hill retail scene, tilting the landscape several blocks to the west, and not just because we’re heading back toward the river.

Another Minnesota as well stalwart, Festival Foods, has been built, complete with on-sale-only liquor, as we like Zep look to the west, and enters the fray, jumping in on opening day like a baseball game with a completely full lot, to a car, and loads of people in each and every line. County Market now finds itself needing to readjust their market position.

Family Fresh grocery was here but then it’s gone, a few years back, and now the big building across the parking lot from the Target has as occupant another retailer, or two or three, and the monopolizing effect meant that County Market, across the freeway, could jack up their prices. At least a little. That was pre-pandemic.

No more, of such stickering. So stop snickering. Festival Foods has moved in where a torn-down big motel had been, a rebuild that added at least and at last a second full-fledged grocer to the Hudson scene. Walmart, not the super kind like in New Richmond, does not count as full-fledged. And the new grocer constructed their store in a place with not much else next door.

— The newest decorating craze finds drivers pasting strings of Christmas lights onto sides mostly, but also hoods and roofs of their car or truck, and in that case payload too. The first one I saw in Hudson ran down the main drag with hundreds, including five orange ones — an odd line and color choice — across the very top of his thick visors. Some strings also spread from the high up cab across to the rear gate.

Outside the Smilin’ Moose, the painted truck passed between two different party buses, parked on either side of the street, thus taking up two of the four lanes.

Outside Hop N Barrel I saw, between parked cars, a man with a yellow construction-type jersey between a group of people, Was he in security, maybe even a designated driver — nope, he was gathering up gift boxes to be wrapped there as part of a community project. —

Within a month before Festival Foods opened, the County Market dropped prices, cents off each dollar spent there — get limit-four canned veggies for 49 cents — and brought back more frequently some old faves in its couponing, which is quite different in signature style and information delivery method from its competitor, which is often more detailed. There also are stark differences in their other retail services offered, with each store having many. (See the end of this post.) So let the Store Wars begin. And the consumer advantage is now. At both current stores.

But first I have to give County Market some love.

In early fall, I had to leave town in a hurry for a family matter, and the a.m. bus would be here soon. But the really cool coupons, mailed to me and everyone in the Hudson area so there is only one copy for each, expired later that day. So an early morning rush to County Market.

I thought I had it nailed. If I use the five-bucks-off-50-coupon once, then take the second one I found lying face-down in the parking lot, thus circle around and go to a different aisle with a different clerk …

Damn, the store was quite quiet and there was only one cashier, mainly, encouraging self-checkout. But I wasn’t confident enough for such with my use of couponing … Plan thwarted.

But still had a few minutes, though my driver was getting bored with YouTube. I thought I’d go, discreetly, to the self-checkout farthest from the main cashier area. Got most of the goods through, but then a problem, and I blame it on myself. Seconds clicking away. Turned out I coulda used an hour.

Darn if that lone clerk didn’t come over to help. She was very nice, fixed the main woe and even ran through my second dollars-off coupon without me even prompting her, and didn’t give me any quip or guilt trip, much less any lip. But she did say one of the items I was trying to bag had not been scanned, even though I thought it was, and there was no time to quibble. So I gave back my Chex mix and tried to run. Literally, in more than one way.

Now I had to lug my second batch of groceries, in addition to the first one I had stowed just outside the door. I hadn’t been bold enough to put it behind one of the bushes being sold just feet away. Meanwhile, the driver is strumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

Items fell from my arms. Pick them up, only have them drop again. And then the clerk asks to help! Exposed a second time.

Bottom line, after all was said and done, I was out two bags of Chex mix I could have eaten on the bus. And I want to make it clear this is all my fault, not the stores. But when back in town I did call to see if I could get my mix back.

Both the next clerk and earlier, the woman on the phone, were also more than helpful, and I quickly got my free one(s) — and even at its own on-special two-for-five-dollars. They said all through the process that they’d do whatever they could to help, and trust, a frequent customer, as I was called without question. How did they know?

But coming into play might be that they now had competition. And on opening night at Festival Foods, there was nary a space left in their big parking lot. Even width-wise of the store, that’s impressive.

The lines were there, long and in waiting, by the dozens for that set of cashiers to check off on the newfound food or even beer special. About seven aisles were open — and that doesn’t count the liquor store section and its tiny-plastic-shot-glass specials to sample if you were of age after coming in through its own door — and they needed all of them. There were as many as 50 with their carts backed up into the aisles.

And hands were on duty, and the guy giving out their gas-off-via-partnership-with-Kwik Trip explained things well, on the fly. The next one over gave away two different kinds of wraps, creative in their use of ingredients and bountiful with the meat in this huge store. They even had hot dogs available. Brats too, so super cool.

There were photo opps too. I got a chuckle out of the mom, with dad standing in the background, who took the non-selfie pic of her smiling little one, (like a small moose), behind the wheel of the little cart like a small car, positioned out in front of the store, parked there for at least the day or weekend as a snapshot for what there was.

Much bigger, large truck size, was the vehicle that sat out there a bit to the east, and that payload could have hauled over to the big bins and filled most of the produce department, well at least the organic section.

A driver, though, said that in two weeks, she’d only dropped off two people to shop there, despite noticing the store’s early weekend-opening traffic.

Even though the Local Store Wars have brought down prices all around, we still are seeing overall higher prices for various reasons that include price gouging by Big Corp — see my take on why coming soon — the holiday meals may still cost you, originating way back from the place it’s grown.

There was a time not too many years ago when you could get a pre-made-meal-just-maybe-warm-it-up, for a few people or more and including meat and most all the fixins, for $40. Now it will cost you, and I refer again to County Market and still a good deal, comparison-wise, at between $80 and $200. (All these figures have you save a cent, as a tip?) As a counterpoint, Festival Foods in their very-much-different-styled flyer does not actually list the main prices for their catering, and party tray, but there is the feed-a-bunch bag of pre-made BBQ ribs, killer homestyle St. Louis style, and also pristine chicken breasts, for $2 a pound. OK, again, you actually save a cent on that off each pound. Like the several couponed Festival Foods specials for just 99 cents.

But back to the here and now, going forward. County Market hawks its daily sushi, while Festival Foods its many kinds of seafood as sorry, a sea that’s very diverse, said the best in Wisconsin. There’s a Caribou Coffee at both of the locations, so apparently there’s no exclusivity agreement — unlike the evident persistance in some stores of say, beef over fowl — and the coffee shop has any number of creative and killer drink specials right now for the season. With County Market the only real game in town for a number of years, it was the one-stop place to go for scrubbing things like dry cleaning pickup and Rug Doctor rental. It also led the way in faxing, laminating and the presence of a legitimate cafe next to the coffee shop. Festival Foods offers that at its liquor store, in many cases it has the lowest legal prices, and online they can even help you pre-set your shopping list. Both the places don’t do a very good job on informing the customer of most of these options in their weekly mailings, even though there are many, although Festival Foods initially offered a rundown.

I just got, locally, a County Market gift card. The store said that it was also available in Minnesota at North Branch. It did not list central Wisconsin in the name of Wausau. Small world.

So take advantage of all of these different details, in both places, while in Hudson. If you can, depending where you are.

It has been a while since I’ve delved into the fickle whims of the fashion winds. Seems we’ve quickly gone from maillots and accompanying heels or flip-flops, to muffs to mukluks, and all this includes Macy’s style designer shoes, “decreed and degreed” by varieties in the hundreds. But in this season, it’s seldom longer such numbers in terms of temps, God help us and our gift-giving.

No word (yet) on mullet or mohawk inclusion. That is a much more hairy situation, as far as (today’s) economy, if you think as the newest hairdresser in town you’ve got game to fix it. But though, maybe Musk and his millions-times-millions can help, by providing money for startups, even if they prove to be non-starters — fantasy football and Shark Tank aside. If we can whether that bell like Designing Women …

Anyway, in less than a couple of months, give or take a weak week, as temps tussled with the gusto of wind gusts with each other’s bid for dominance, the rise before the fall, we’ve seen on the scene the transformation from the open-toed-somewhat-strappy shoes spotlighting painted nails — and not with tops of toes purple from the cold and replacing pink skin tones — then coming all the way around to mukluks. With bunny slippers, as the rabbit has it, and tennies in-between. No laces, either or also through thick and thin, needed to add to warmth just yet.

Timeliness has crapped out like an ill-forecast snowstorm concerning our weather, and what I’ve witnessed up here in western Wisconsin while writing within the warm climes of my apartment, going back only a couple of months to when seeing women finding it balmy enough to — forget lip balm — sport bare legs. Not even necessarily with hosiery.

— (Odd bedfellows? Do Kwik Trip and Macy’s, low-brow convenience and upscale department stores, respectively, go together at all? A model-tall black woman in a headshot wearing stylish shades in one of their ads, Macy’s not Kwik Trip, looked just like someone I saw pumping gas and then buying a slurpy. A better fitting model motif, stylewise, was one woman at Dick’s a couple of nights later. And anything is a good combo when considering a longtime spy-type friend, who got all around the local scene, then bolted for a top-secret-and-I-can’t-even-tell-you-just-yet CIA job, followed by a for-a-while popular radio show with another Hudsonite, although based in Madison, on modern relationships. My newly exotic friend I just noticed around the holidays happens to resemble, with the face and hairstyle especially, the perfume model featured in ad inserts wearing — what else? — string bikini and whom is just totally tanned. To seduce James Bond?) —

It was when coming out of County Market during my search for lower-price Halloween candy, it seemed like the vast majority of the dozens of such shoppers I spotted were wearing skirts short enough to show off their open-toed, clunky-heeled-but-otherwise-a-bit-strappy shoes, which thus revealed almost always carefully painted nails. Not just the smile, with eyes and ears and nose and throat, drawn on a pumpkin. No frostbite gaining a foothold on either toes or that token squash or two, like the number of feet you have if not one of those rotten bots. (My uncarved pumpkin, from a mold standpoint, is still fully intact, even though kept inside.)

It also, was only about a week ago, that I saw that harbinger of what’s usually quelled in October, a man outside with flip-flops. That small smidgen of plastic must have been cold, since this was the most frigid day next to these last two, but at least it was not steel-toed-boot-type. He had on a thin T-shirt, too, and short-pants to boot. (I gotta at least say pants somewhere in there.) It turns out he was en route back to his car, parked a few spaces (just?) up the way, and in his response to a comment about his bravery/stupidity, he noted that he had winter clothing in the backseat.

So why not just put it on first, in the first place.

I too often have worn shorts into the first week of December, but not when the conditions are like what we’ve seen in much of this month’s go-round. In the last 48 hours we have seen temps way below zero, and only hovering back around that range come mid-day, with wind chills even worse, especially when those gusts picked up. Boo be it to you, if one of those hit when you were at a crosswalk, with no backup to the blowing from buildings. And I’m still seeing T-shirts, especially among drivers, and sub-specially those with heated steering wheels, so they don’t necessarily need gloves either, except when getting out the wheelchair for a disabled client. (One of those who is always, and not with regard to temperature, sure to be wearing driving gloves, with holes for fingers and do we see a theme here, explained that it’s all actually for a medical condition, he being a medical driver. Apropo?) 

Like trends in TV-Land, there is always The Middle. And not as in finger. In this case later in fall. This was marked by the noticeable appearance of bunny slippers, but still sans ankle fabric, for a couple of weeks, then trending back toward tennies, and then returning just days ago to boots. This late week saw the manifestation of mukluk. And of course, if you don’t have it currently you can buy it, and these are the tenets. A local store has Eskimo gear, broadly, such as winter camping tents, at $30 off. At first I thought that was $30 on. As in what it takes from your wallet. Better look and check your list, twice.

She wasn’t by any means ugly, or frumpy at all, despite her quaint “Old Fashioned” shirt that was really a bulky sweater, maybe extra-long sleeves for “handling,” as per her clerking job. Neither was he, also with hard-to-miss-during-holidays hat, his happening to be cowboy size much like a Santa sombrero that really sleighs it on sight, even more than slightly, and this praise comes from an avowed hetero, so that means loads (enough to fill a ten-gallon variety of hat …)

But they both carried on an age-old tradition — OK maybe just since the last generation took root, and could go out on Santa’s again with parade newly minted town — that of sporting, and we won’t say boasting, a holiday ugly sweater. Well before the typical annual contest time for such. But it does not best the decked out on Halloween. (Although we have come a long way from, the next day, the many downtown doorsteps having only a lone pumpkin on the right side of the entry. Uncarved to befit, in decor, what will come four weeks later.)

“He” had his entryway-to-sweater-season worn during the night before Thanksgiving, that middle holiday, giving thanks for Blackout Wednesday, a not-so-keen-after shots observation in its own right, and what is to come. (Thus, a bartender and I revisited that shot-slamming scenario just last night, and she said the song of songs to inspire this activity plays on their music-run-list at least once every night.)

— This could be the latest mashup of a metal meltdown, again borrowing from classical, of a model Maiden and a modern manger general … It was up the irons a few weeks again in St. Paul, and I ran into two different couples with mostly the same concert (or non) story. One twosome was at a bar and the other at a boutique! Backstory of both: One of the spouses got to go to the recent metro mega-show, and the other ended up having to opt out at the last minute, and still shows some subtle-like-the-lyrics jealousy toward their significant other. Both recently came from the Twin Cities to party down across the river “and tell their tale wherever they go.”

This was not seen in the elaborate backdrop that is an Iron Maiden stage, although it could have been, knowing their tone, lyrically and not just sonically. In the middle of the downtown, pumped up with their decking out of holiday scenes, there are shops that go to the hilt in decorating their front window(s). One found a cool way to mix the secular and religious, much like Maiden. The sprawling Nativity scene, no doubt bigger than your actual average cave, although God could no doubt swing it with the innkeeper if he chose to, had as backdrop a guardian angel style backup from a couple of reindeer and on the side but a single Santa, (mono-thematic if not theistic), and above from bells set to carol … —

Back to the “He” man. Similar gender, to him, Santa hat? Check. Christmas colors, unevenly disbursed? Check. Checkered with also plaid and stripes? Maybe. Santa beard and/or with accompanying reindeer horns? I’ll have to think back … prelude to what I’ll say in a bit. But the brief message on his shirt was Chevy Chase-ish, as it would have been fitting when packing up the family, and possibly trying to revive grandma, with its large-lettered and thereby-it-would-need-be clever use of the prefix “un” in lampooning such as that very vacation movie. Thus Chasing Christmas … From a family sometimes poor, but never poor in spirit. And such spirits from that late-November night, granted a while back, are why exact wording escapes me.

Fast-forward, she did not have a beard, but her ugly sweater had plenty more words. It focused on the thought, maybe unintentionally, that this would be an Old Fashioned Christmas, in this the land of brandy and beer that made such drink(s) famous. Typically cool colors and big-pictured old home for the holidays design on her nowhere-like-that shirt, and yes, she wore a like minded hat, too.

“She” works at a store where the grip that comes from long-sleeve comfort is valued, and she might sell what she wore on her shirt, and it did say “to” and “from” with an oversize faux gift tag. I told her that she looked very holiday-ish, and after her thank you she noted that since she only gets to wear this outfit about three weeks a year — as need be, she has the timing down — she made sure to get it years back, about the time she was of age. I said this is like a bridesmaid dress, and you might think twice, whether naughty or nice, about buying it for just one wedding, so you’d best have a whole bunch of eligible girlfriends who might soon wed.

And she is married, and said her husband had offered to her that she was his Christmas present, which could in theory mean she could get decked out in this way 365. That mirrored the wording of what I had wanted to jokingly say to her but did not know if I could get away with it, that someone like myself could wrap her up and take her home for the holidays. So I blundered it out there and she took no offense at all at the silly comment.

And no one, at all, is sillier than those from The Isles, et all. So only in these parts could you find someone playing the bagpipes out in the old as a way to slot in Xmas tunes, like the guy in such gear just north of the middle of the downtown, on the sidewalk leaning up a foot over from the exterior wall, though standing straight up and blowing hard. West side of the street, as is typical of such acts, unless they go way up Locust. Entertaining shoppers who wandered from the east that are now really getting busy, now that we’ve gotten over the hump of Black Friday, (doin’ the Humpty Hump?)

He said that he does such gigs now and again, even when it’s only reasonably cold, and has a specialty of sorts in holiday music, adding that he starts re-rehearsing before Thanksgiving, as come the second weekend in December, you’ve got to get it right. Shoppers, as they want deals, have great expectations.

Back to the sweaters, with green sleeves. One guy had that obligatory two-inch-high side strip of dozens of designs, running just under his armpits, that appeared to be a combo of St. Nick style superhero (small figures) and snowflakes, or were they Xs? But the bank teller’s black sweater was more sporty, with two little strips of big frills running down the length of each arm. And we Must say Boo to the guy who had on just a plain gray sweater, with little sleeves and gaps where the zipper should more fully be.

Anyway, if you have any of those styles, or one strictly your own, check out the Hudson Green Mill ugly sweater contest on Saturday, Dec. 14 starting at 9 p.m., one that kicks the season for such in gear.

It’s 9 a.m., usual work starting time, on Cyber Monday, and the inch of snow seen on the sidewalk from the night before tells it all. By just who shoveled.

The cyber-hospitality industry did not necessarily lead the way for that, even with brushing with the broom, as Cyber Monday now had its biggest boom, and apparently the scant bit of snow was not seen as a barrier — hey, it’s all online baby!

— Hudson Community Action will again introduce the greater area to one of its biggest and earliest holiday festival craft fairs and bizzares, on this first Saturday of the month from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., and we’ll assume it lives up to its billing, at the Hudson Middle School and with more than 170 vendors — and live music, although no bands or genres are specified on signs around town or online. Boo! (They did add in a few late posters around town the fact that Hudson holiday stalwart Colleen Raye would play.) But that vagueness of note, is also true at Jethro’s BBQ Roadhouse, just north of town, where they have band(s) each weekend and maybe even on Thursday, but all it says online for each night is “live music,” and we don’t known if that’s salsa or Latin, jazz or classical, big band or orchestra, but more likely rock or country. (We’re lazy, and we don’t like to take notebooks into live venues to take down the details, as people — and owners — can get surly.) We will note that The Luck Band played at Ziggy’s Hudson on Friday night, with Lori Bahneman ripping through such styles vocally and including as everyone AC/DC, and the guitar was virtuoistic. —

The Cyber Monday places that had their snow shoveled, pronto, and apropo, often were such as insurance agencies, even though likely not open for the day. But there was the then Smilin’ Moose, shoveled completely on both the main drag and the side-street, and one other venue with just a small strip shoveled, and a last one with just a quaint, barely-yard-large-and-big square offed and offered.

— Hey psst, a last lingering notation from Black Friday and Cyber Monday and week, etc., and how to gas up to get there, as if you didn’t know it had (passed now eventually.)

A gas card given away by the dozens from Circle K — rapidly taking over the Wisconsin scene and challenging in this end and up especially north in the Badger State, and only there can you get away with such Packer-like sacrilege — allows you to get not a mere three or four and maybe five cents off but a full ten, per gallon, EVERY SINGLE DAY!! Up to 20 gallons, through 2025, so unless you are going to Thanksgiving-type distances …

And of course, there is that snowstorm starting south and then moving northeast, dumping up to several feet, that was said in this way, if you transpose a few letters: “Wi to NY.” That is much like winter, my last name, bad spelled. And yes, there are scads of my relatives in hard-hit lower Michigan too.

One other bad misspelling. If you do not read far enough along into the grid … “Get ready to bake your holiday tr …” Would that be badly botched turkey mentioned? No, actually if you read further its token “treats.” With Christmas soon coming, and the stacking of the weeks are thusly aligned. Cookies, etc. —

All other venues as of 9 a.m., had no snow foregoing as far as shoveling. (A tell-tale truck of, I believe, an owner did pull up, likely with a shovel in back.) But wait, there was that one other exception .. At the former Associated Bank site, the downtown one, and I do not know who owns the property right now … I’ll have my fact-checkers, and they need right now considering me to be many … the newfound snow was basically gone except a newer trickle on again, both the full length of their main drag and the side-street westward. (The building has been empty for years, and you would think this a prime location, despite ongoing pasted signs on the door from Comcast saying it was their business solution — apparently did not work — and that there (still) is Wifi available.)

A side note on what’s on the sidewalk: My apartment building mega-maintenance guru, Nichole, as a counterpoint, had just finished her shoveling, at least right out front, when I began my walk.

And again then going back to black, as in our recent Friday. A slew of online ads, reverting back to that day, (dark web?), in what are more legitimate sources … tout deals that despite it being called Cyber Week, end on either that day, or Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday. Skip Sunday. As per the Bible, no commerce.

And back then there was no air travel. These days, as far as travel, every holiday trumps itself in Biblical proportions, as far as people hitting the skies and the road. And do they stay well grounded? Will drones save the day? And can the Elon oil of Musk and his air travel, up to the heavens and beyond in a spacey way, save the day, just like the now plentiful, again, stowaways as far as accommodating numbers to reach that now record airline load? And Cyber Monday was supposed to peak not long before midnight.

Back at the Spirit Seller, that was about the only place that was busy, upon their 9 a.m. not p.m. opening time, and there were — careful here — three blue collar working men would coulda come from that country just south of ours, complaining about the cold but grabbing some frosty ones anyway. I guess there would be concrete poured, or at least hash browns prepped, before snow would be shoveled.

Cyber Monday night was a nightlife dead zone, but at least all the sidewalks, et al, had been shoveled, with the brave exception of in front of the Hudson Tap, but they did have a bare sidewalk strip below their ample awning and also big bench. As white and blue balloons from the weekend were still whafting in the wind, being tethered to such, but for whom?

It has been called, also and I was amiss for not calling them out as such in an earlier post, (see it for a Saturday band buildup), Blackout Wednesday (night) and of course, Thanksgiving Eve. And at least three other gnarlier names, the next couple of days included.

So now I’ll list going back, more than a week’s worth, of some made-up names of other days we’re seeing: One of the last tariff-free and tax-addled pre-turkey-day Tuesdays, waddled like turkey-flight widespread travel Wednesday, thrusting onward into Thanksgiving, watched-with-sleepy-eyes football Black Friday, saturated super Shopping Local Saturday, retail-returning-of-relics Sunday, Cyber attack addled and airline return late Monday, taking-back-taco-eating Tuesday, leftover wings of turkey not just buffalo Wednesday, a tavern-and-bar-based throwback to Thirsty Thursday, TGIF Finally if you were (un)fortunate enough to Find Yourself With Folks, The Only Day That Matters Saturday, and FunDay SunDay if you’re not dieting yet and then light beer.

Back to Blackout Wednesday, also known as Drunksgiving, in as much as can be done post-pandemic, the eve was “sick” and a banger. Music reactors reference aside.

The night, though, started out slow, with in the block of the Smilin’ Moose, there were five open parking spaces, make that six as a car pulled out, but still inside they were shakin’ their booty to DJ music.

— Black Friday was followed by Small Business Saturday, and as origins, I must lament the demise-of-all-real-journalism as shown by an entire front page that was just a Black Friday, Black car ad in the Hudson Star-Observer. So no off-the-top news in this (former) newspaper.

The next day there were placards all over the fortunately wide sidewalks — eight in just one long block with a gap on the north end, followed by two more just across the street — as businesses competed and said, essentially, shop with me not them. (I loved most the one that hawked hot scon(ni)es on a harrowingly cold day.) Having had it, or had at it, three MILFs were heard to say, as they stepped into The 715 and that’s not an area code, “and yeah we could stop in for shots.” The nearest bar was a full block away. —

In the next block, back to Blackout Wednesday, there roamed three large conglomerations of people, and at its end the Agave was hopping. There was that one single lady, (not for long), starting to mingle in the rare open space near the enterway.

Over to Hudson Tap … Some ladies were rockin’ their look, to top it off was the one with a tan off-the-shoulder what-could-be-a-sweater, with a bare midriff, too. Then there was that one little black dress, and someone with likeminded black boots too.

Over to Dick’s. And a short-term dilemma. I saw, not at first, but following that some of the old crowd from well before the pandemic. Tom and his bro, and a trio of women, and of course Mackenzie, from the old neighborhood. And that woman I was sure I knew, but she said it was her lookalike, also out that night.

Trekking back past Agave, again, four people running across the grain of the streetlight, to cross the sidestreet crosswalk.

The next day, no one out was on the a bit snow-filled street. All was closed but the Spirit Seller, which was busy, and very especially the guy who had to dig in his pocket for the last couple of bucks. Ziggy’s, kinda across the way, and usually and historically a big-bar-night starting point, had just enough lights on, largely via beer signs shining, to mask the fact that they were not open. This being deer hunting season, it was fitting that there was an even bigger “bucking” bronco whiskey sign advertising out in back.

Then St. Croix Bakery, with sign saying they would be closed on Black Friday, making that basically in league with no one, but open again on the Saturday to follow. Some other places have made it a four-day holiday, taking full advantage. Workers have at it, with your family and friends.

Fast-forward to the weekend … Some of the same back-from-college newbies were out again at The Tap, such as one who, we joked, just couldn’t seem to stop inadvertantly positioning herself, although shifting, to be standing, or sitting, in front of one of the two server stations/computers. Ouch!

What happens when you combine a “monastic” journey with a drum championship, twice, to take in a band that tops off your turkey weekend?

That makes for a musical resume, to top that festive title held by grandma on Thursday … So whether you call it, by name, Thanksgiving, Friendsgiving or the night before, Drunksgiving, as the night and its parties have been coined, competing for your coin …

— To start, I go back again, to before Halloween, when my bro and really all members of my family went all out with the decor, and it was dominated by … scarecrow figures, some without legs because that is just not the draw.

Back to decor, there is my mom’s mosted magazine. It has on its front, fall mums, plural. And then across the way at the Legion Hall, I spotted a pumpkin that might have been carved … or maybe its just a few mold spots, this late in the season.

But to conclude this interlude, the (non?)-ultimate Black Friday offering — aside from various 15 percent warranty extensions — and get your mind out of the gutter, that’s where the dropped-leaves-in-finally-recent-days are and put your eaves asunder … As I “Filter,” the name of the company, your full service gutter protection, and who does it this time of year? Maybe those with oaks all around, as our yard once were. Recalling fondly as I give thanks. —

The MoJo Monks make a return to the Pierce-St. Croix County area, the eve of Nov. 30, and they unlike so many bands based out of the Twin Cities, actually got a lot of their musical training here. So these Knights in White Satin are local through and through, not from Middle Italy or the Mediterranean, but trained middle aged men and lead singer Meagan, playing since before Middle School, though not from the Middle Ages. Their mojo comes from varied places, but mostly right here.

See these longtime musicians, since they were little kids, as young as four and five, again live right here, near their old stomping grounds, at the GasLite in Ellsworth, this weekend. Their experience spans many decades, and for some of them started with the Stagedoor Players in New Richmond before moving on and broader as rockers, and also a Northwestern College music degree. There was a stint, as well, with the Minnesota Vikings drumline, with also a varied and hip-hop background, that even included, as mentioned above, two-time snare drum solo world title(s). The lead singer has performed at Disney World and at Christmas shows at the Mall of America.

This following a band earlier in the fall, just ready for deer hunting, called Whitetail, that has, get this, a resume that describes “hopscotching from jangle pop and post-hardcore to math rock and shoegaze!” They, from Minnesota, are sure to be back soon, as they have plenty a deer there too …

These days, a holiday shot special, Wednesday night mind you, may still cost you $5, depending on where you go, and in what city in the area. (The Wild Badger, up in New Richmond, is cheaper and you still have some selection.) But go to the Smilin’ Moose in Hudson, for example, and they amp it up as you have three colors offered, and they go with the red, but not the white and blue. You can choose from cherry, Jag as we in the county are its national capital, and the Chuck Norris version if you want to boost your testosterone ahead of eating manly turkey. (Ladies can partake, too.)

On Thanksgiving itself, it’s again rare to have a whole day open, for your whole-on turkey. Again as an example, Dunn Brothers downtown is only open in the morning, while Hudson Tap is more typical, open only in the evening, so you can take the kiddies there for games if they are amped up on sugar, not weighed down by turkey enzyme.

All this even though if you missed out, Amazon was on my cell phone as early as Nov. 1 hawking and hunting you, by giving top billing and building up their Thanksgiving groceries and decor.