There still are and were several Santas seen, some on the more secularly sinister and not sacred side. Seriously. But one lingers and looms large most of all.

That Tall Man — necessarily unlike a short elf — set on the, get this, small yard of a small farmstead between Hudson and New Richmond, virtually clinging to a maple tree, was a high skeleton almost the size of Eddie, you know the massive Iron Maiden mascot, and now has been converted, so to speak, in holiday observance. The scene has Christmas-like, Santa vibes, with plenty of Xmas plinky lights. Among the rib and leg bones.
In NR itself, still atop of street sign, sits another skeleton, this one more human-height. It looks — sorry again Maiden — like the cover art creature, another version of Eddie, on the poignantly-positive-posturing Fear of The Dark album. Plopped on top of  — not (reaching toward Heaven?) — a star-crossed-to-invoke-its-sidestreet sign.
And a third theme on this, this time a somewhat sacred and actual scene of Santa, set the size of a football field away from the highway, on a long fence ahead of a residence, not a farm field.

A now harried hair place said that because of its cancellations, they can sooner see you in (an appointment?) and accentuate your accents, and get you ready for that (killer) holiday party. They opine that they have now openings, even if off the street and only one-off, and not just of gifts.
Another sign, as if you need another on which to act, and I have now seen that metaphor for a fourth, if not fifth time. It says to love your hometown — with heart as in another holiday, this time in mid-February and Hallmark beyond — and that being Hudson. But somewhat ironically, it is laid flat alongside browned-grass, next to a sidewalk, also in front of a high and stark brick wall.
But no more grinch get-go. Screw Scrooge. Happy holidays!

Thusly … This is the Three Days, or Nights, of Eves, of Christmas/New Years weekends at the Wild Badger in New Richmond. Could summa the bands be TBA? They can cancel! Then get a lump of coal.
We start with the 16th, in which we do among other things customer appreciation with two bands, one old and one newer with a long name, back to back starting early, and the seasonal intro (maybe and it could be late) of ugly sweaters.
Then the 23rd and more music, could be one of their many deejays, maybe the newer deejay BDay, to get you in the groove for The Next Night And Day. The Saturday is also a dweebs day, with that band helping you negotiate their naughty and nice night. Anything but bland.
More of the same, possibly by name, on the 30th, and you know what That Next Night is! They have that, too, and again the deejay and maybe more dejour. Much more.
I guess it has been a while since I had been back at Ziggy’s Hudson, for their relatively new karaoke. On that Wednesday night, back at the turn of the month, a staffer was kinda ignoring the karaoke deejay and putting up Christmas trees, plural, as a kickoff to the season.

A funny (not really) thing happened on the way to check-out the forum, at the market.

And the lines to wait in, thusly, the checkout aisle, next to all the trashy magazines, would be so lengthy, you’d think you had been their since the days and years of … the Romans. Read the latest about gladiators? Or newer celebs? They could be much the same as centuries ago.
The first line at the store was, of course, too long. So you could check out the tabloid headlines — hey we all do it — and I have admitted such to the person behind even me at times, adding that I’m (too) a writer and I know all the tricks, as you package it in such a way that there is typically a grain of truth to be found, but don’t hold your breath. (Ah would I write like that?) A typical response? I am to old and dull the be tabloid worthy. (I guess I’m not shopping at one of those trendy department stores.)

— I was not able to make in to Green Mill on Black Friday — no online sales — with their 4 for 6, as in the gift card dollar value, so 46 and 2 if you are a Tool fan, and save your dough instead and go to a concert. But so many such venues still have 4 for 5, to wit if you buy $100 in gift cards you get a free one of $25. Among those also chiming in with that is the Smilin’ Moose. And at other night spots you buy $25 and get a free five spot, such as Ziggy’s.

And so it is with the Sam’s Christmas Village. Seasonal new Christmas Cookie Lager — and alternative to eggnog — from Hop N Barrel, which is available at many area night spots including foremost the nextdoor Ziggy’s, can also be gotten at that mega-Santa-display in Somerset and you might win a (stocking stuffer?) prize that involves ugly sweaters.

Here’s a better shopping experience. It’s a free movie with Santa! With a peppery twist, not just candy canes. Offered through the “Polar Express,” the free movie and one soda and popcorn, at Hudson Cinema 12, is Saturday at 11 a.m. Meet the somewhat odd combo of the 2024 Pepper King and Santa, too. Done via the local Pepper Kings Club. One has to wonder if there is a connection to the North Hudson Pepper Fest, held each summer, but that would be a 2023 version, and this is for 2024, but hey I’ve heard Santa is capable of time travel!  So maybe gather up some ideas for peppering up your holiday ham, go beyond the glaze, but be careful with sprinkling such on your free popcorn. —

But back to the cashier crisis. From a friend’s grocery experience, the heads too were dull, when she was in the line. So went to self-check. It was closed, since it would not take either cash or credit, and take your pick, as I’ve seen denial of both over time. So bolted back to the main line, and I’m not being religious, for a change. This is where I started losing track of the main story, as it was quickly and so oddly excitedly being told to me. There were two people (still) waiting way in front. And a third, with enough food being bought to feed an even starving army. The cash register (I’m Old School) had glitches, on top of it, and not just paper jams. So back to self-serve? But line-hopping is seldom rewarded. Alas, since the subject of my story had but a few items, a couple of kind souls later let her to the front, it was western I believe.
On top of it, a guy midstream, who was more distracted, maybe by a mag cover, ran a cart into the back of her ankle as she tried to bolt (for a second time?) from self-serve.
A cashier had an explanation, of sorts. People (multiple in both cases) had either called in sick or come down, otherwise, with Covid. Like a nephew, who was running a 102 fever, and could indeed be another “19 case.” His high temp persists. There are many in this new wave, reported the Milwaukee paper.
And (with the main Christmas shopping coming) at least it was not on Black Friday and its even longer lines, cyber aside. But could it be the Black Plague?
But lets be happy instead. Somewhat recently, and I waited with this post to see if any such thing would come of it, it was National (could it, maybe, be even be International?) Kindness Day. Aww. So do one act of kindness? Save just one life as a start? I am fond of saying that this number is setting the bar way too low.
Those trapped in a checkout lane — watch your ankles, both of them — could use some of this.

It was an unusual Thanksgiving, with more running back and forth, with all hands having medical conditions or maybe even medical vans, then the annual turkey trots.

If those celebrating, as best they could, could trot at all.
Dad has been in a nursing home since summer, and mom came down with Covid on the Thursday before the holiday — one of a handful of people would could have been visitors, from both near and far, family members and relatives of those they are dating. And even running into the issue, they’d find later, on their other side that evening or the next day. It apparently is a thing again. Varients not very much vanquished.
So it was hard to transport dad, as most van services were on holiday or very expensive for it, and mom was in quarantine almost up to the day, taking rapid tests daily, (and the pink line got lighter but still existed), to see if she would even be able to attend at the (now-annual) feast at my brother’s house.

— What is it just now at Kwik Trip, with men even on our coldest days in their not so much slimy as its too cold, but slimly strapped — like a lady’s New Year’s Eve shoe, but that’s getting ahead of us — flip-flops of rubber, and short-shorts and sleeveless shirts of decidedly non-wool. And at a store across the street also, but a grocer, so no coats available to buy.

Not that many days earlier, as the rain and if not that just the cool got closer to freezing, there were not only a few men in T-shirts — and even a couple still in yes, baggy shorts — but the first sights of women wearing coats, even in long form, and bigger then usual boots.
Again goin’ downtown … Although now with XMas seen all over, it earlier had shown off, often, off-white although not quite oblong pumpkins, or could they be gourds, as to borrow a marketing catch phrase, you are gourd-eous, although in evil makeup. Even she said that back on the past fright night. But we have just recently seen yellow pumpkins, too. And on all kinds of different fronts, of buildings, there had been flashy orange on a black background, the Halloween colors beheld. Red and green would have to wait, until … —

As an acquaintance had jokingly said, back it the days when it was even less of a laughing matter, Happy Covid.
Or as mom had put it when getting back from the doctor and eventually (it was quick although sick) summoning the energy to call me, not just send a text, “It’s gonna be a ho, ho, ho, holiday!”

So it was a grind, but at least no ground turkey, rather the real bird showed. There also was offered to me, nextday when I could go back to moms, some pickle and pimento loaf, also often called olive loaf, that she bought, our family’s version of lefse, but I do actually love both. The squirrels would have to settle for some scattered Cheerios on the back patio, and nearing the end of my stay, mom was going to sweep off All That Remains, but one of the critters beat her to it, gathering up the last nugget that had been meant for the birds.

Mom would normally pick me up at the park and ride, after I exited the more-expensive-by-the-day bus, but my brother now would have to squeeze me into his schedule right after work, from home, on that Monday. Texts were shared back and forth: Don’t worry, I can wear extra sweatshirts and camp out there until the last conference call is placed. (But the bus was running late, so he got to the lot ahead of me.) How long would I stay, if at his place, as he suddenly would have a full house? Do I get the cool downstairs back bedroom? If I can’t shop with mom, could I with him? (But forget on Black Friday). And also find an ATM? Not to be more of a bother to my brother, but could he take me to the library so I could use their computer, with which I am more familiar? And lastly, something I hesitated to put forth, could her mild Covid actually serve as a bit of a respite for mom?
Later back at the nursing home, we boarded an elevator to go to the second floor, and were told you had to hit the blank button in tandem with the one with a big No. 2, or the contraption would not go. One more transportation snag? Good thing I was not flying solo.

But there was a saving grace. For the first time in ages, the night before not Christmas but this big meal day, I actually watched an entire college basketball game. As in start to finish. Go Badgers, in what was called a game for the ages. More rough though, than what’s in a turkey gizzard. And a bit of the Milwaukee Bucks game too! And even some of the Packer-Lions game on the day itself.
That noon, more or less, a fave for me was my niece’s sangria, made with apple cider and a bunch of not bananas, but many different kinds of “cooler” fruit piled in for full flavor. I loved most the mixing of apples and oranges in her medium-size vat. It reminded me of the tall-as-a-person tequila cylinder at the Agave Kitchen, that one filled with all kinds of Mexican-style veggies for marinading, if that’s the right word.

First there was the night before Thanksgiving, but few were nestled all snug in their beds, but partied larger than life on this big night for such goings-on. The next day, Turkey Day almost got missed by most, except for the pre-feast turkey trots held all over, but then there was Native American Heritage Day, and Small Business Saturday and of course Cyber Monday.

Locally, the flannel karaoke night at Ziggy’s Hudson that Wednesday before football, was not grungy but a big hit with attendance, led by DJ AO, who was not AWOL, but using AI. This was followed up by such success, at least early, come the following Wednesday at Ziggy’s.
Small business Saturday also created a big buzz, as shoppers were treated in Hudson’s downtown to a bunch of stores all in a row that were so decked out with Christmas decorations and lights that entire front windows were crammed full, even going high up, so jam-packed that they are like the current toy shop run by Santa’s elves. There also downtown is a nutcracker soldier who is almost my height keeping guard.

— It is that time of year again in our neck of the woods and indeed all of Wisconsin, for that tried and true, until your skin turns blue, pastime known as … snowmobiling. What better way to get set for it than to visit The GasLite just outside of Ellsworth, so snowmo trail friendly, for the signing for the semi-official use of such sleds in Pierce/St. Croix counties. So what does the signing consist of? To find out, bring your face-the-blustery-blast-of-winter-buddies and check it out bright and early on Saturday, Dec. 2, at 8 a.m. And begin with their killer breakfast too! Happy trails.

And there may be snow. My mom in Milwaukee said it is expected down there on the cusp of what this will be, so one can only imagine what there’ll be in the Great Northwest up here.

What else is new at The GasLite, on a related (cold) front? We will quote them, verbatem of course, on this: “WE ….. Are ….. Open! New cooler door changeout is complete and the beer is happily chilling.” —
But when it came to That Other Big Feast, cooks were advised to serve That Which Everyone Wants, and that does not include any green vegetables, especially God forbid brussels sprouts, so just stick to M&Ms or those cool striped mints if you need that fix over Thanksgiving, even if the Christmas stockings are not yet hung. And chefs and all their helpers, Santa’s or otherwise, were coached to wear comfy and loose-fitting clothes, as their waistbands would soon be expanding. A columist from the Milwaukee newspaper, which I viewed when I was down there for what ended up being a most unusual holiday, (more on that in a coming post), voiced his view that no one today really dresses up on this day, as what the Pilgrims wore is now passe.
Topping the shopping list of what people bought online, for themselves and others, to start off That Cyber Week were apparel, jewelry and restaurant categories, such as in gift cards. So are we talking virtual shoes? Can you try on such things to see if like Cinderella they fit? That’s almost as bad an idea as virtual beer; so get it not online but onsite, even if offsale, in Wisconsin. And (also) for your lady friend? Get her, as this is on the heels of such a holiday, some PJs as this is/was a pajama dress affair, a pendant, and then celebrate by taking her out for pasta — so you have all three ends covered.
In our data minefield that is the internet, starting back at Black Friday, another figure — and full-figured is fine — that was thrown out is that 40 percent of the sales were online. So if you are looking for sensationalist news, the only place you are going to find a report about people being crushed by a big push from behind them is likely not at the checkout line of a department store, but in line to get on an even more crowded place, as in an airplane, as the travel traffic this season was expected to set records.
Getting back to her — as isn’t that what’s it’s always about as diamonds are forever? — you could take her to a concert, as well, maybe even in a foreign land such as say, Kashmir, and hit both of those bases. The Rolling Stones have just embarked on their gazillionth globe-trot, the Hackney Diamonds tour, and I’d wager that if they come anywhere near Milwaukee, there will be some kind of sponsorship from that area’s Haack Diamonds store.
The authorities at Avira, the anti-virus people, were wishing you a safe Cyber Monday, as it is the season for protection. Although if Santa can’t do tracking on your devices, he might not know what you want. But you might not want him, as in naughty or nice, to know where you have been browsing. And not as in feeding his reindeer.
Elsewhere as this holiday season gets rolling …
On Saturday, it’s The Cookie Problem, a holiday show by the River Falls community theater, put on at the River Falls public library in its lower level gallery. This is so Hallmark-movie-style-sweet, like Cookie Monster and his conflicts, it merits two shows, one in the late morning and the other in the early afternoon. That’s at 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. if going by the ones, all three of them.
On Thursday night, to wrap up the month, it’s a new band locally with an old theme. Waking Wilderness plays at Ziggy’s Hudson. With that name, are we getting into lyrics on social issues such as the environment? Or still regular rock or country?

I just found out that there is actually a term for a holiday party a friend used to throw, back a couple of decades ago, called Friendsgiving. Before there was a show called Friends. And prior to all kinds of new fall color schemes being introduced, see the Notes From The Beat Department.

It can be celebrated at various times, with the month of November noted, but usually right around Thanksgiving. When I saw the term online, I first thought of the big eve before Thanksgiving itself, that being a huge bar night, especially since all the kids (older ones) are newly coming back from college and getting reacquainted. In also just found out that has been termed Blackout Wednesday. As opposed to Black Friday, which is referenced later.

An online search revealed that 30 percent of people celebrate Friendsgiving, broadly defined as getting together with people you really like to hang out with, and not necessarily family. (More on that below). In some generations, the figure goes up to 40 percent.

And this being the Thursday, or thereabouts, that it is, it seems to always revolve around food. Potluck too, can make you get lucky by being with your friends.

But back to that party a friend used to hold, for a few years running. It was on the late-night end of Thanksgiving, after you had stuffed your face to avoid having to talk to all your crazy relatives. She billed her gala as hanging with those people who you really want to. Hence Friendsgiving?

It is debated whether this new version of the old holiday came from the hit show. Especially now that the man who played Chandler has died. When I was talking to a young friend, and was asked which Friends character I was most like, I said Chandler. He said Ross. I could see that. After all, they both went after Rachel.

— Have not heard yet from Cami about her party concoction, if its being revived, and the clock has been ticking. She just might be logging some overtime at the place I last ran into her,  an eye doctor shop rather than shopping, as the eyes have it, in more than one way, or that’s how I view it, since seeing is believing. So, there is also now, I’ve been informed, a food-fest-based Happy Bev’s-Giving via the TV show The Goldbergs, and I hope its golden with tips you can glean — and quips too — for a late Friendsgiving. All this brings us to goose. We were watching the usually hapless Packers score 20 points in the first quarter (wouldn’t you know it, a mixed extra point or it would round out to 21), with a Madden-style matinee. His fave entree, from years that go back almost as far as the classic Thanksgiving contest — OK that also incorporates his time coaching the Raiders — with the Lions that usually ended up being losers …  Yes we are talking the iconic Turducken, put up in caps because you could still be the winning chef at your Friendsgiving potluck and more. How so? Add to the chicken inside a duck inside a turkey, a mix that brings in goose and Cornish game hen. That would make it — in an expanse that makes lefse and lutefisk look more normal, for those of you watching the Vikings play on Monday Night Football — a new term that I’ll expand and expound on to call Turgooseduckenhen! Is there a Booby prize for this contest? As we could be talking the Vikings here, and the barely there Bears, for your party. Depending on the further tolerance of your guests, leftovers or whole bird(s).

Just don’t bring a green vegetable, as an article claimed this is not kosher for even a post-Thanksgiving. You could serve what there was still available on Black Friday, if it has not turned brown yet.  But kosher are PJs — are you reading this Gopher Coach PJ Fleck? — as I have often wondered if the first Thanksgiving pilgrims really were all decked out in buckles and cool hats and knickers. That could be pricey for an impoverished pilgrim. —

But go after grub, too. Yes at one local venue they’re open, he says, and this server has to work much of the day, but also noted he can still have turkey at some point, early or late. But wait a minute, he added: In the offing is some better food, although that is lowering the bar. Could be Friendsgiving.

For example, Hudson Tap opens at 4 p.m. on Thanksgiving, like many other such venues, and they open earlier than usual, on Black Friday, at 11 a.m. Many bar and grills are closed completely for the day. Spending time serving their families rather than patrons. Or serving up Friendsgiving.

Still looking around? For specials? An ad online (seems like that’s all there is these days), that was pre-empted, so to speak, by those three dots or such to make you read inside, said you’ll want to check out our $1 … OK such a bonus was actually $10, but this is the beauty, or triumph, or debacle of (short form) internet ads.
Also, come the prior Sunday, (fun day for shoppers), were pumped like a holiday-ish pumpkin the “early” Black Friday discounts. One actually said starts “NOW!” (Their emphasis, if that is even needed.)

The Minnesota Wild were looking to pick up some slack with their trip to The Continent, and some locals have said they were making the trip also, much like when Adrian Peterson flew a whole bunch of his faves to a far-away place, twice over, as he too loves a party. The Vikings too have been in Europe for A Friendly, more than once. And so it goes …
But with the hockey team, we are talking a couple of games in Sweden.
A first contest was a 7 a.m. game time here, across time zones, so break out your Bloody Mary’s as you watch.
Three “Wild Swedes” from Minnesota were at a big movie premier in their country, or could this be read as Swedes acting up?
It was one of their own countrymen who scored while playing for Ottawa, I believe his first goal for the team, to send the Wild to yet another defeat. One European trumping — are they allies? — another, as in Kirill. Then going out and feasting on krill? OK that’s a fisherman-style (Swedish as on the sea?) stereotype.

— Or like those candies called Swedish fish. A pack was sent to me back in the day by a friend who was visiting there, and she also shared a postcard on one of our favorite fishy topics — the sturgeon that are prominent in a river where she lives.  This one showed a mermaid that was termed the new sturgeon, Swedish style, and the note indicated that maybe I’d go fishing more often — which I rarely have done — if I lived there. The blond locks on the mermaid reminded me of another friend, who is a lookalike for Daryl Hannah, and had suggested back in the day that we should go out on a Halloween, like the one recently passed, with her dressed as that cute creature from Splash.

The first friend also sent another postcard from the edge that showed a whole bunch of women chasing a naked man — shown only from the back. This time the note said that this is what they do for fun in Sweden.

Maybe I should visit. —
And more tales of the tape, this time with stuff that makes the Bad New Bears look good. Michigan Head Coach Harbaugh is at the center of a controversy over stuff like sign-stealing and bad recruiting. He will serve his suspension, and not suspended sentence, away from the sidelines, it appears, legal appeals aside, and since the penalty carries through season’s end, its three-game length seems magnified. The team quickly faced a squad they had beaten 22 straight times. How would you like to be an odds-maker in the midst of all this? Hey, Harbaugh might be able to help them.
The U-Michigan linebacker coach was back for a second stint, then was dismissed recently.
Was he unethically scouted? He allegedly deleted from a computer more than the weekly add to the playbook. This was said not to be tied to sign-stealing, although since the players he coached, when on the field, were right in the middle of things … There are so many legalish matters at play here that you’d think they were cases against Trump. Even makes Bill Belichik look good.

Hey, the hauntings are passed so they become passe, and I get that’s its the soon-held deer hunting holiday and also Thanksgiving, one more important than the other, it depends who you are. And even a bit on your status on an eve midstream, (a fishing rather than hunting reference), and the rub here is if you happen to be single, or part of a family demanding turkey or maybe both, on this often these-days-forgotten series of early sunsets between Those Two Other Late-Year Holidays …

But if you are free from 12-6 p.m. on the 18th, yes a Saturday, you could flock to, indeed, Cindi’s Flock You (Breast) Cancer Benefit at The GasLite in Ellworth.
It has all the usual event trimmings — with the holidays coming but also as seen before that — like their filling spaghetti feed, as this ain’t no frumpy fruitcake, but also has a formitable meat raffle. But what really makes this esteemed occasion different then what I’ve covered before is this:
Show up, off of your laboring day, and win a wheel barrel filled to the rim (could be with rum) or other boozes (plural), as size matters. I’ll make no warranties, but you betcha your booze might be a bounty of beer or brandy or even bourbon, but to know for sure what’s bottled, you’ll have to stop by and see, as this could be the earlier-than-thou start of secret Santa …
The exact name of the medical malady (with her mammories and that’s no joke) for the woman you’ll be benefiting is a particular wordy type: Just try to say it fast twice after you’ve won and imbibed.

And as far as wheel barrel versus barrow versus borrow, (like you would from your kindly neighbor, like the guy over the sitcom fence who provides wisdom to The Hapless Tool Time Guy), you might want to reference online The Charismatic Voice and her music reaction to Hallowed Me Thy Name, and see what she has to say about how to pronounce Hallowed, two different ways as it depends on the circumstances under which it is used. This is a seven-plus minute song, but she cuts to the chase very quickly in her reaction, in case the deer stand is waiting for you. Don’t want to disturb the deer as they approach.

One of those (regional) stores courting customers moreso than ever at this time of year, in IA or WI only: Orange Friday in honor of deer hunting. (Could have started with a solemn Saturday or Maundy Monday, especially if you are a doe or a buck, even moreso?) Of note, they do not mention MN, and for sure IL — hey IA, too, has plenty of corn to give cover — although there’s much more habitat, with all these states, as you head north with varying distances (also from Chicago, where Google says I have a lot of vacationy readers.) So if you have the right geography, happy “dear” hunting. Especially if you are a deer hunting widow out with women-friends. You (may) have a window. Wednesday?
On that night, there are two places you might try, moreso than most. In New Richmond, getting further into deer country, there is at the Wild Badger what they call Drunksgiving to honor the billed-as-biggest bar night, with music. They this coming holiday weekend, and broadly and/or before, even boast neon glow sticks, in I’m guessing, the colors of the coming Christmas season, as well as that orange and brown you might expect on this night ahead of Turkey Day.
Also Wednesday night, Ziggy’s Hudson is having one of the two or three cover bands out of the Twin Cities — holiday travel theme on this perhaps the biggest such weekend we’ve seen? — on I’ll add another theme, as in grunge broadly, with Smells Like The ’90s taking the stage. (Although the widows will still do their holiday eve best to look fantastic. Just from past experience with such bands, you’ll likely hear and see, if you can stand the probable flannel — such as I wore to garner a near-top place during a karaoke contest based in part of appearance — lots of the likes of Nirvana and Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam, and not to be Outshined, but maybe going farther south than Seattle in an eclipsed Blackhole Sun-versus- Southern Cross starry way — but only in metamorphical terms not musically — with covers of Soundgarden songs.

I loved a sign outside Agave Kitchen that spoke of a safehouse for deer hunting. Can those bucks and does hang out there, too, with no worries? Fawns also, I indeed hope. So deer in the house, and not just deer mice? And I think this establishment treats carrying guns inside as a turkey. Is that bird safe at what they call, themselves, a nachos farm? Or go more macho. Muchas …

Lastly, tis the season, if you have a coat, or boots and gloves to donate. Or need them? This Saturday from 9 a.m. 3 p.m. at the small but mighty Cornerstone Church that’s smack dab in the middle of old Hudson, there is a winter clothing dispersement, as part I believe of a greater church social and holiday event, and not even to mention their regular morning food giveaways, and traveling truck they help sponsor. I myself gave what I could stuff into not a trunk, but a bag, as I figured hey, two thick sweatshirts are almost the same warmth value as a jacket.

While it appears that the gap between the haves and have-nots may finally have taken a turn where it is narrowing a bit, decades of damage has been done. The Middle Class is not yet back, at all. So The Clash. Clearly not, not nearly not, the royalty and dignitaries, with their brandy and cigars.

In this new economic state, I think it’s twofold. Those who have means are doing quite well right now, as compared to the vast majority of the earlier part of the Millennium, and I’d guess that’s where our newfound consumer spending is coming from, the holidays pending, as inflation is somewhat being curbed. But those on the other end are continuing to find it harder and harder to get by.
The poor were not invited to the party.

Cheap beer, which is what many turn to, needs to become even cheaper. Have to think twice before even ordering that cheapest, even if its half-price at happy hour, potato-based, appetizer at the favorite haunt you can’t find the where-with-all and gas money to hit as often, even if just down the way, though you think it might aid mood control. Enabling all those extra work hours.

There of course are far greater needs. To meet all of those, social services agencies and charities, and their staffing and extra hours and the need for them, and their funding are, it seems obvious by attrition between them all, being more and more pushed to the brink. Logically, several of them locally, not just two or three, are beholden to this pattern, and have to deal with it as best they can.

— Here is one other barometer: The (still occasional) numbers of homeless, I’m assuming, some solo and some duos, people who have been sleeping or just camping out in the Hudson downtown doorways-that-jut-in of shops — but not in the music clubs, as that would be more visible past midnight. Despite their seeming need, one man offered ME some cigs. Some had 20-ounce bottles of Mountain Dew setting around, along with various kinds of clothing to change into as temps changed, and also sleeping bags and other standard gear, and one had a like-size can of Coors Light, (sorry to reinforce a sterotype). A third man had left a care home because he had issues with his treatment, and was soon befriended by a mom who has a son with a similar medical scenario, and also myself as I offered him some chocolate cookies and potato chips — I hope he likes spicy —  and I added not nutritional, but its all I had at the moment, so at least its something.

All this has not often been seen in Hudson, at least in the older business district, but we have also long had our invisible homeless, as not seen sleeping under bridges or folded in cardboard. A newer version of couch surfing with aid of families and friends, until these at times trying types typically wear out their welcome and then shuffle to another spot, is to have people move in for a while and take care of an older or (also often) disabled relative or offer cleaning in lieu of rent — and such people like all of us have skills to use, and I’ve seen some be very good at organizing on the fly, also — but a problem crops up when after a few weeks or months they have worked too well and are no longer needed, and are victims of their own success. The garage is cleaned and the leaves are raked. And the dishes have long been done. These things can be much more complicated than seen on face value.

So they are back, again or still, to trying to find an apartment — a privilege reserved these days for only the most premium applicants, and sadly even sparse availability for them. Just the cream of the crop get the loft, or location that’s prime or even a bit sub-prime. Lower-income applicants have to wait, on a list or otherwise, these days. Sometimes years.

On this, one thing I have long wondered about. On Walnut Street, a half-block west from the main drag, there are on each side of this route as again a jut in, two medium-sized enclaves — or nooks, over by these bar and grills, to use a kitchening word — surrounded on three sides by high building walls, where trash is disposed of, hey you can’t have it all, that could seem like great places to sleep out of the cold. And thus out of the wind.  The north side spot is more sheltered from strong breeezes than the south. There’s space there aside from those many garbage cans, and the occasional stairwell and such. This could be the antithesis of those times when we’ve had even early-on in our own country, the push to tell the homeless to get up and leave (did I type live?) the busy hub districts — and go where? — when something like the Olympics was in the Beautiful People offing. The key word here as far as keeping up appearances for the tourists acoming, and the dollars they bring to the ritzier parts of the economy, one that often could be invoked on various fronts: Sanitize. Or did I type Satanize. (OK people, the main way it is practiced, aside from the fringe element that exists in all religions, isn’t really that bad. Truly. Study it and learn. More on that in a future post. As Joe being Joe, he will bring in numerous heavy metal lyrics to back up his claim.)

One other measuring stick of the (bad) ecomony, for some. You can always tell times are getting worse when cheaper cross-state-or-country bus services do a much higher volume of business, a reflection also of high car prices and their skyrocketed loan interest rates. But at least with bus lines in most areas, like virtually all of Minnesconsin, competition these days is driving the prices down. So if you if you can put up with that odd, or sometimes quite engaging, person you end up sitting next to … Thank God for armrests. —
I thus theorize that many people who were getting by, swimmingly, since gas and grocery and home prices rose significantly in the last year and/or two, had earlier built up a rainy day account, but now have needed to raid it. It has run dry.
It seems to me that by the time the feds — and I gotta say it can involve cost of meds — get a chance to compile and analyze all their many sets of data, we are likely back out of a recession before they even name it as so.
Here are actual tales from the trenches, to build up my premise:
— A driving service, just call ahead a couple of days, that aids those with disabilities and aging has found themselves much more pressed for time for getting back to schedule rides, even if the route chosen is very familiar to them and thus boilerplate. That being said, my go-to person agreed that we are probably in a recession, already, now. That said on a day when she got pushed by a combo of late request and one that was not routine.
— That difficulty in answering phones right away was ditto with the state My Access line, which administers many government benefits programs. Along that line, many Social Security and SSI recipients haven’t yet gotten their customary notice regarding their cost-of-living annual increase, which could again be big, a good thing here, although some have gained a general idea through word of mouth.
— The local food shelf, open mornings, has often taken longer to return scheduling calls, and especially those newer volunteers have not been as up to speed with certain times, as with staffing constraints, the timing for training has likely ebbed. It seems the portions have been diminishing, although the shelves at the shelf are far from bare, its just that selection choices may be down, (as in the main, currently seen, as a worst-case scenario, having just one kind of spaghetti sauce, low salt, but plenty of that.) For a while, short-distance delivery was offered, in a pinch, and then ended.
These numbers may tell the tale, involving the fact that the $25 food vouchers to a local grocer that are so generously given with each visit have now been reduced from two to one a month: The ample store balance for this account that is listed on the bottom of purchase slips has in the last couple of months been seen to drop by about half, and then just recently even a bit more.
— In the other end of the church basement that houses the food shelf, the Hudson Backpack Program that aids local students with food has said their main numbers have, even since the school year its lunches started, jumped up by about 40 from around the earlier 200. They were crazy busy on a recent weekday.
— The woman who delivers excess commodities to low income people, (given out in about the third week of each month), about 500 across an area of a few counties, has said that the number clients has picked up by roughly 200 since late summer, and probably moreso since the last monthly drop. When making a recent delivery she found it necessary to really be on the run, and have to bolt immediately, even though she had a question to ask.
— At the six-morning-a-week produce giveaway at Hudson’s Cornerstone Church, numbers have increased steadily in the past six months, a pastor said. At their Friday max-out distribution with other kinds of food, there recently were even more people clamoring, to the point that there was a rarity in that some shelves were close to being barren.
At both ends of that offering, there have been many times when there was another rarity, signs posted that said take only one item, or two, from a particular large cupboard area. The “rescue” me silly food signs are also less frequent.
— At a place called The Source, open mostly over each weekday starting-early noon hour, which fills many gaps, they have had occasional gaps themselves in their basic-needs offerings. The number of the gas cards that were being given in these hard times was stepped up for a while, then cut way back. They had also donated farmers market vouchers, but that the means for that ended early.
— West Cap, open 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., which provides utility assistance, mailed out their annual notice of when to expect the appointment call, based on the alphabet of the first letter of their last name, by Oct. 15, the start of the “heating season.” That was tentative. Some appointments got pushed back, in the actuality of these times, to early December.
— Lastly, can it be, there is no social security and disability pay provision under new House Speakers keep-the-government-open plan? (A news channel had as an almost-footnote, making note of funding certain un-named other federal programs.) Almost makes you want to shut it all down.

You may have noticed that sprinkled into this post are references to when places are open, and for the sake of brevity their addresses are not listed, (that’s something we do here at HudsonWiNightlife, when there are multiple listings.) It is a requirement, even ethically, that you do your part also. So you have Google, as there are low-cost programs for that, you have the power, so go to town! You can get the help you need, even if supplies are running a bit short.

It’s Game Day in the beer and brat (and Milwaukee Burger) and Badger State, broadly speaking. But these are the pros we’re talking now, and you want to drink like a pro — not to Pack it in or to void-out the past 3-2 version Viking vibe — although those at UW are darn close to being far more than amateurs when imbiding. Then have enough money leftover, after you’ve paid your sports bar tab — and you know you’ll have one — to contribute in a meager way to salary cap considerations?!?

There is that 48-ounce Coors Light pitcher you can get at Green Mill, in Hudson and westwardly, during pro football games for $8.99. But just how does that stack up against the infinite number of places offering their bucket-of-beer-bottles special? (It may depend on what brew brand you desire, and they usually are a few of the main domestics, that come at differing prices, though usually only a slight variation, and you may be able to pair it and make it a combo, like that pool you may be shooting during halftime. Usually these are 12-ounce bottles, not the cans that can ramp it up to 16 ounces — or taps that often go up to 20 ounces. And you may or may not have to factor in tax. That’s a couple of paid ounces right there. And the pitcher is only a single tip …) But the server is at your table and this is a football Sunday, so she’s busy and you don’t want to make her wait in the wings, as she has plenty of them to serve, while you micro-calculate the best deal, and so get better service the next Sunday or other Game Day you are in, and you know you will do that at a favorite haunt or maybe two. So we at HudsonWiNightlife just did the math for you!

So here is a breakdown, and I must say I was a little surprised: If you go for the usual five bottles — possibly six once in a great while — and this may or may not be the Hotel California-ish “pink champagne on ice,” you are looking at a base rate of between $14 and maybe $20, and most prices are in the middle. Thus the best deal, all things considered, is this, measured by ounce and/or bottle: The Green Mill special comes in at, give or take a penny or two, 18 cents per ounce or $2.25 a bottle, as the best price. That number, and not on a jersey, of a $14 bucket at low-end sports bars, weighs in at about $2.80 a bottle, and if upwards, that being $18, you are looking at around $3.60 per bottle.

A secondary consideration, and this can be viewed more than one way, is that the Green Mill-type pitcher special equates to four bottles of beer. If you get the second pitcher, that amps it up to eight. You even if tipping a few can do the math: Five versus eight versus 10 bottles or its equivalent — that’s if you go with a second bucket round. So during pregame before you hit the sports bar, assess ahead what your party’s need happens to be. Don’t rely on reassessing at halftime. I have been told by favorite servers that people can lose track while in the moment, especially if it’s a great and close game — thus can you say overtime? — and drop a hundred or two on Any Given Sunday. So really, plan ahead and avoid looking at the void in your wallet come Monday morning. Or when drunk-dialing earlier in the a.m. So you can borrow money to get through Tuesday into Friday, (but wait, I only get paid every other week!)

Psst. Sometimes we go Badger Red with such specials. Relatedly: Saturday Night Football on ABC TV in some past years has been pre-empted by Spring Cup Series NASCAR and the World Series; those various responsibilities being shared by versions of ESPN (times 2), with those entities showing football owned by Walt Disney Co. So, so many layers. As this ain’t no Mickey Mouse. But moreso Madison. Conjure up Camp Randall.

As a followup, I must finally — as I’ve been readily checking in on Rodgers’ reaching-beyond-regionally rehab — post this little bit. Just after the non-trade but signing of the century, or at least the last decade, there was this now, not so little ol’ bar in the Milwaukee area that gained notice for the following offering. On days when the right number of points were scored, or yards applied to get to that — OK it actually was whether the pro football Jets won or loss — they’d pick up your bar tab. Apparently the whole thing! I think there was a proviso that you had to be there for the whole game which, wait, could mean you’d pick up, or they would for you, a bigger tab. I ponder if the offer so went down when Aaron and his Achille’s went asunder. First game. So that was the best chance to save your dough.
So if the local football specials currently listed in the Picks of the Week department aren’t enough, and you might be reminded by that metal Bulleit sign on the wall with its E before I, trek to the Brew City area and say hello to my mom and dad and brother and family while down there. (It was mom, a mostly non-fan it should be noted so not at a sports bar, who informed me of the injury to the star QB now with a new team. She said, and I should not quote her on this, that she thought it was his ACL, not his Achille’s. Close enough. Both are part of the (lower) leg. Or as Vince Lombardi so famously quipped, “The knee always the knee.” Except when its your heel.)

When the recent drops were only dribbles as people came and left County Market, no one was that concerned about the late-season dampness, but then the droplets became much more many, and how people dealt with it was determined by their clothing style. Its thickness and breadth of course, was the baromoter. Don’t forget the zipper.

A guy opened up to me and said, yup it may not be winter yet, so I coulda used that stemmed umbrella that I’d stowed at home, think in the garage. I added one word to him that told his tale too: December. It’s coming. So parkas. Your ‘brella might be by your closeted boots.
I being thus-prompted, as a woman happened by, passing by the on-special pumpkin bins with umbrella, then started the discourse between us — or she I? — with call and response, and it was much the same and well received. But not November Rain. That would be, if not then in snow form, in a couple of days. Maybe Purple Rain.
Third, a man came alongside me and paused, then spoke: “You have to work on your friend-making technique.” Seriously, was I that bad?!? And I wouldn’t have said anything if her umbrella had not unfolded right in front of me, when she was by a last display of flowers. And that unit from the woman before her, thus unfurled. Like those on a few guys still wearing shorts. The long form of these days. Extra pockets add added warmth.

— A singer I know says he is affected by the change in Daylight Savings Time like perhaps no other. Except when he gets it all out on stage when covering Sinatra, though the encore might be a couple of beats off and cut short. My germaine German family? No such notice.

But I must say, on Sunday, even though not a work day and having no set appointments, I found myself way thrown off by small matters of timing, starting with the going-on of football — just what hour is noon? I was on the phone with a — pajama-and-footies-clad as she told me — friend who signed off of our call since kickoff was fast approaching, but wait it was only 10:55! Not even a coin toss yet.

The rest of the day was better, as I thought I got in a full 90 extra minutes of work, not 60, but I still felt not on my best game. Like a QB being blitzed by all 11. Quick, what to do when a nose tackle comes at you? (But at a bad angle, so there is hope to side-step his big sorry butt.) I found myself often looking at the clock on the wall, and it says its 3 O’Clock — more than once? My routine of a two-hours-into-the-day constitutional, then trying to be slated for another two later, caffeine actually, felt like I just couldn’t get that timing right. And later, screw getting sleep meds timed well. So again, OCD anyone?

Across the way at the Hudson Public Library, which also houses the local police department, and is run by city crews actually, on Monday night the doors were kept closed and locked an hour ahead of time. Reason: Apparently no one in Hudson municipal government got the memo, about the time change, and thus put the doors on a different timing cycle. On Tuesday night, these same doors were kept propped open with wooden wedges from 7 p.m. to 8. They say it this way: “Where books are just the beginning.” OK. An OT locksmith probably could be used as well. —

Then a style foible, much like seen on a side street, where we go past the typical Michael Jackson one glove, and even the even harder to understand one tennis shoe, (how could someone not know you were missing it), and enters in the singular little black baby-or-just-bigger boot and a mere finger laying about, from a lime and olive glove.
There also has been seen a lone kiddo again glove, like a six-year-old would wear. After hours near bar time? Nearby, this white and blue, minus the red, glove also was roughed-edged, and it said, “Ruf flex Lite L.” Not Ice T.

Midstream, when outside County Market, the rains came more and more. Which way angled the walkers with their grocery goods? Using what aisle to get to their cars, far or near making a difference, changing their speed? Pace cars, picking up.
There could be a grocery bag or page of paper held over a head to block the wet? No, they are mostly hatless. No ear muffs yet. And coupon sheets were not quite 8-by-11.
But what was laid around their shoulders told the tale. It was not so cold that what’s around the waist, was not wasteage. And was that sweatshirt zipped up? And their cuffs folded over?
Down in falls comes the rain, first there are the sweatshirts, those people walking along with no sense of urgency, but no plastic coverings, just two kids in T-shirts who late were lukewarm to the lapping rain. Just strolling a bit. Before were the hoodies that brought a barely midstream response to the moisture coming down. Most had the necks puffed up, putting not much sprite in their steps.